Month: January 2017

Some Days

Some days –

You leap up, eager to engage. Yeah, you got work, but so what? You’re fucking ready! Give me coffee, tea, whatever, and stand back, ’cause here I come.

Other days –

The movement to remove yourself from that lovely bed is proceeded by a long sigh, a bit of ceiling staring, and an argument. “Is it really worth it today to get out of bed?” you ask yourself. “Can’t I just stay here all day?” Thoughts of responsibilities, deadlines, appointments and engagement roll over you like waves. Damn, you realize, I have to get up.

You throw the covers back and shove yourself free. Look out world, you promise. You hit me, I’m going to hit you back. Hard.

But some days –

Oh, Jesus, you think. Another day. There’s no end to them. I’m in a tunnel but there’s no light. Nada. Nothing. Zip. Zilch. “I hate my life,” you whisper.

But, what must be done, must be done. So you get out of bed, a stoic embracing of your duties and trudge through the day, engaging as it must be done but trying not to use much of your energies. Not on days like this.

But other days –

Ha, ha, ha, you think, with a surreptitious glance at the clock and daylight, I don’t have to get up today. I can sleep in as long as I want. I can do whatever I want. And with that, you bound up, because this is your day. You can do whatever the fuck you want.

But some days –

You awake and arise. You don’t feel really rested but you don’t feel tired, either. You don’t know what you feel. There are things to be done but nothing is pressing on more than the immediate need to pee.

You think of the things that you need to do and what you might do. You might go some places. You might not.

Thoughts are accompanied by small mental shrugs of indifference. You’re not really happy. You’re not really sad.

You’re not really anything.

You and the day feel like an onion. Some peeling must be done before anything useful is found. You’re not even sure if you feel like peeling it, though. It’s not a question of energy or attitude. No, you don’t know what it is. To know that would require some peeling, and you don’t feel like peeling. Perhaps you will after having some coffee or tea, or being up a while, or maybe you’ll feel like it after getting cleaned up. Who knows?

That’s how it is.

On some days.

But not others.

4

Today’s Theme Music

I had a Flock of Seagulls song lined up for today but we have a last minute substitution. After last night’s series of dreams, I’m going with the Rolling Stones.

Here is ‘Get Off of My Cloud’, from 1965.

0

Today’s Theme Music

A little late but what the hell. It’s still the ‘Edge of Seventeen’. Although the song’s creation was inspired by Jane Petty’s story about meeting Tom Petty, and then further defined by the loss of her uncle and John Lennon in the same week in December, 1980, Stevie Nick’s song is about change, exploration and maturation. It’s about what, too, matters, and how so much can pivot in an instant to become the only thing that matters. I think it’s an appropriate song for the ninth day of the new year, 2017.

I’d never seen this video before. I guess it was released in 1982, when the song came out. Things were different then, my friends. That was the hair of the era, though.

 

3

Hello, Writers

Starting today with a visualizing exercise. WYSIWYG.

Visualize yourself writing. Completing the book.

See the finished book. See it on your desk, in your hand, and for sale online, and in book stores, on end cap displays, and tables. See it in the library.

Notice it in people’s hands as they go to their gates for flights. See it in others’ hands as they’re reading in the park and at the coffee shop. Hear it mentioned in conversations and discover it in reviews.

How far do you want to go with this? Detail your vision. Make it a rope that carries you through each session and day, through the months of processing and developing and into the sales and marketing arena. See it all the way through. Create it as your vision and feed your determination.

Close your eyes. Spread your eyes wide. Reach out and put your arms around a star.

Don’t let circumstances stop or distract you. Believe in yourself and keep going.

4

The Magellan

One of my characters surprised me by bringing up the Magellan. I didn’t know he was aware of it. I thought the characters, stories and ideas were all kept segregated in my upstairs.

The Magellan is ‘conceived’ three hundred years from now. It existed in minds before then, though. It was only three hundred years from now that the impetus develops to create the necessary consortium of resources required for the ambitious projects. In my future worlds, greed, corporatism, and nationalism, along with war and disaster keep Humans from exploring space outside of a few Moon and Mars settlements.

A generational biosphere designed to explore beyond our solar system, Magellan is constructed in space. Part of its construction, equipment and plans is to send ships back to Earth every twenty-five years to bring materials and people back. But all trips are planned as a one way trip.

I thought of the Magellan and its mission a decade ago. As part of its loose story line, it went out there and all went well for about fifty years. Then there was no more, and it was mostly forgotten in the way that efforts are forgotten and yet remain part of history. That’s why I was surprised that one character suggests, “What if we encounter the Magellan or one of its return ships?”

Employing Mom’s tactics from my youth, I told the character I’d think about it.

I don’t know if he knows what that means.

16

Today’s Theme Music

Theme music is often about setting the stage for what’s about to happen. It’s a familiar, establishing your expectations.

On some days, I like defiant theme music to play in my head. They’re not necessarily days when I battling conditions; these can also be days when I’m determined to complete a task or pursue a dream.

Other days find me seeking melancholy theme music for accompaniment, fun music, or dance music. Theme music that’s nostalgic to me is frequent. That’s not surprising. Nostalgia is all about trying to achieve a particular state of mind. For me, that balance was often about hopes and dreams, youth and maturity, satisfaction and eagerness to pursue life.

The weather also affects my theme music choices. Today’s song, though, hits in many areas for me. It’s pouring rain through balmy air and upset winds. So I’m reaching for a song that accompanies my mind’s drift toward nostalgia and weather but remains something that

0

Contemplating the Storms

Inside, safe with coffee, I eye snow ranging between raging and swirling.

Everything is white, a cover-up to hide yesterday’s progress of melting and drying roads. It looks cold, and cold is permeating my protective window panes.

I made an espresso sized cuppa using French Roast. The staunch flavor pleases me. It’s great not needing to deal with all that extra water that goes into a larger cup. The coffee fuels thinking about the storm’s extent. The web helps track its size, what has passed and what is expected. I need something like that for the rest of my life.

The cats, of course, drift between blissful slumber and energetic bonkers. That’s when older cats are preferred; they recognize bad weather and are happier to watch through a window than the young beasts. Quinn is the rule’s exception; he enjoys the cold. We think he employs an active imagination, going out and pretending he’s Siberian. His whole demeanor reeks of of it. But this weather play has a heavy element of wind; Quinn says, “Nyet,” to wind.

Tucker indulges in several mad dashes, practicing his football jukes. Taking pity on the kitties, I visit with each and play with them. The toy of choice is the white feathers on the yellow string on the pink stick. All love this. Meep captures it, picks it up in his mouth and attempts to carry it away, tail up. His trophy pleases him. Boo, the oldest, becomes most engaged. He manages to free three more feathers. Only one feather remains on the toy. Time for a new one.

Snow surrenders to sunshine, which yields to rain. No matter; the temp has scaled thirty-eight degrees. The wind refuses to abandon its role so the cats stay in but the sun is back.

Time to move, get ready to go out and write like crazy. Breakfast, first.

It’s a good morning for pancakes.

 

8

Today’s Theme Music

Saturday morning. Blizzard outside. Kids out of school. Not that I have any, but I’m thinking of the greater society. Under these circumstances, let’s pull out an old song, a controversial one that made the “Filthy Fifteen” list of songs receiving parents’ disapproval.

This one was about masturbation. Any adult knew it as soon as they understood the lyrics. But its upbeat tempo made it a terrific dance tune. Commercial radio loved it; the young folks loved it.

The video has that goofy early MTV vibe going – perfect for a Saturday. You may not know all the words but you can recognize enough to sing along and mumble the rest. Direct from 1984 via the Intertubes and You Tube, Cyndi Lauper with ‘She Bop’. 

 

2

Work Habits

Here we are, the six of us: writers. Meet Michael the Original and Michaels Two through Six. None want to be called a number, usually channeling Bob Seger and the Silver Bullet Band when that’s attempted. (“I’m not a number, I’m not a number, damn it, I’m a man.”)

Each writer has their piece to write. We’re seated around a large, round table. Each has their own space and quad-shot mochas. Each is on a computer and has their files open.

One is copy-editing the novel to date. The Original – that would be me – is doing the hard thinking to bring these drunkenly rambunctious stories together. The next four are working on the different storylines and scenes for Pram, Forus Ker, Brett, Philea, Richard, Kimi and Handley, onboard the Faux Mo, Pentagon, River Styx, and Wrinkle, on Willow Glen and the escape pod, in the stasis pod, and in the past, present and future, dealing with the Monad, Sabards, Humans and Travail Seth…and each other…. There are battles, revelations, duplicity, treachery and betrayal.

It’s a lot of work for the six of us.

Unfortunately, there is only me. Having the six wouldn’t be sufficient, either. I would need more, a committee of me to write and edit. Each story and its main character is drumming, “Write my story,” into me. I write a few lines, paragraphs, and then jump into another, tediously advancing on all fronts, advancing, but not anywhere near the desired pace. The process reminds me of a class I took decades ago, in 1988 or 1989.

I was stationed in Germany. Offered by the University of Maryland, the class was four days long, two weekends, eight hours each day. The subject was French literature. Four authors were being studied. Among them was Honore de Balzac.

Balzac was said to write fifteen hours a day. The claim presented to me in that class is that he wrote with a quill, standing up, sucking down cups of coffee. He was said to be always writing and created voluminous manuscripts, often with characters straying from one story to another, and frequently revised. How did he do it, I wondered then.

How did he do it, I wonder now.

But then I figure, man, if good ol’ Honore could write and edit so much on his own, I can as well.

Just give me more damn coffee.

Here we go: time to write like crazy, at least one more time.

 

0

Flying into Egypt

I was served a rack of what the hell dreams last night and awoke confused.

The most sharply remembered dream had me in a small airport terminal. I was well dressed and very happy, wandering about the small building and its small rooms, flirting with woman and awaiting my flight. It came shortly later. Nothing significant from the flight took place until deplaning. Then I realized I was in an airport in Egypt. I’d flown over some terrible sights, looking down and seeing wasteland.

My pilot was Egyptian so I passed sympathetic comments on to him. He seemed little interested and accepted the comments with brusque impatience before going on to his business between flights. Which, in retrospect, made sense. He’s a pilot, with things to do and little time.

I needed to await my next flight. I spoke with others about what I’d seen. They also seemed little interested. A few were confused. I had no pants on and was naked from the waist down, further confusing them. Having my pants off was part of my plan, I assured them again and again, smiling and showing them my pants in my hand.

Meanwhile, a beautiful dark-haired women who seemed Italian was present. She intrigued me because she was in a red Ferrari racing suit. I finally struck up a conversation with her, asking why she was wearing a Ferrari racing suit. She seemed secretive, furtive but flirtatious, and was coy about telling me. This began a series in which people talked to me about what I saw as I flew into Egypt alternating with her and I teasing one another about why she was wearing a Ferrari racing suit.

It was close to departure time. I put my pants on. The beautiful woman beckoned me to her. We squatted down. Leaning in with a glance around to see no one else was there, she indicated her suit and said, “This is for the future.”

I was confused. “That’s a future racing suit for Ferrari?”

Widely smiling, she nodded. “Yes, yes, it’s for the future. It’s very special. I’m testing it.”

Before I could properly respond, she lifted up a bag and pulled out another racing suit. Yellow, this one was for the Jordan racing team. Jordan has been out of racing for a decade plus.

“This one, too,” she said. “It’s for the future.”

I was now greatly confused. There wasn’t time for further conversation as my flight was called.

And then I was off the aircraft and in a new terminal in America, with an unspecified friend. We were leaving the airport and discussing how to leave. One of us wanted to get a car or taxi; the other wanted to walk out to the gate and catch a ride there, or keep walking.

In retrospect, I think the friend may have been me, and I was both entities. If so, that begins to make some sense, moving the dream out of the ‘what-the-hell’ category and into the ‘huh’ realm. It’s into the ‘huh’ category because it has some sketchy sense – future and past, and confused, indecisive directions and courses. With Jordan and Ferrari Formula 1, some elements of highly advanced technology and cutting edge performance is referenced. I don’t understand its context completely. More thinking is needed.

And Egypt? I’m baffled. I’ve only been to Egypt a few times, strictly on military business, traveling on military aircraft.

I don’t know why I flew in and out of Egypt in my dreams.

0

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑