Kevin Cane stood on the margin of the car park where the painted lines gave way to a paved road between tourist shops. The asphalt looked like it had been poured thin and hot over a poorly groomed dirt road then hardened in place. Its fresh black with grey aggregate matched his goatee and moustache. The vespers sun blah blah.
[He is in San Diego attending the marriage of his friend Colin Abes. This is Colin’s second marriage; the bride is the same age as the bride at the first—which Kevin also attended.
At the first wedding fifteen or so years ago, Kevin had an affinity for the couple. Even though he was single, even though he’d been right in the middle of his first stint in the Navy, the event felt like a beginning for him. This obvious affair be contrast feels like an end.
Kevin turned forty recently, that gives him the right to say he feels old and wise even though he’s neither.]
186 words on day 967
It turns out that trying to write at 6 AM without a plan for what to write is not a great way to write what you were hoping to write at 6 AM. That turned out to not be anywhere near as humorous as I’d hoped.
Broke for Mt Dew and an English muffin with butter and homemade jelly. Let’s see if that does the trick…
So I thought I’d write this somehow: http://www.intothepixel.com/artwork-details/winner_details.asp?idArtwork=1278
The Merriweather Balloon Boat & Mobile Market burned from the Crows’ Crow’s Nest to what would have been the waterline had it been a seafaring craft and not a…balloon boat (and mobile market). But I’m getting ahead of myself with the hook and you’ll be wanting a little less medias in your res.
Gondola Mike Evercotts lashed the last of his boxed cargo into the main net and tossed it overboard to dangle below his dad-made skiff—
—ok, some things will be easier if I just come right out and tell you: Mike goes by “Evercotts” and not Mike or Gondola Mike. When he did briefly go by ‘Gondola Mike’ they stressed the second syllable not the first, thus: ‘gone-DOE-luh mike’. He gondoliered for maybe two weeks one summer and it stuck—except that no one ever calls him that to his face. Usually you’ll hear people introduce him as “Gondola Mike Evercotts [as I did above], but just call him ‘Evercotts’.” He’s got iron-black hair and is shorter than you’d like him to be but as tall as he needs.
Also, it’s best if you imagine me narrating in something like an Irish accent—not a brogue though. Later my narrative accent—again,you should imagine—will drift into anything applicable from the western parts of Europe, Morocco, and once Italian…Italy. You know what I mean. However, for the ease of your reading I’ll be typing it all out in American English. I’ll just let you know which to imagine when we get there.
324 words on day 889
The helo-plane hovers with its wings tucked while the pilot surveys the beach for high tide indications and a good spot to set down. The companion-pilot, a dragonfall shrike, leans out of the soft spot below the helo-plane to circle the high-walled cove. At this time of the morning the wind falls softly from above with few gusts or swirls. The shrike circles a tree and a tree-house then rises up nearly to the forest above before tucking its wings into a dive and inserting itself into the water. It comes up juggling a fish. Innacule Brin has been informed this helo-plane, an amphibious model, can also belly-land in the sand like a curlew nesting. Inna hopes she won’t have to kill the pilot in order to hijack the plane; he seemed like such a nice man [on the phone].
140 words on day 860