Author: Douglas

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Day 138: Three Empty Boxes

OK, bitch.

That’s tough talk from a three day loser. Take it for what you will.

I just finished an email to newly in touch old friend in which I describe my recent and record string of fail as an unplanned hiatus or an all out fuck up. Since I’m only accountable to me I’m tempted to light on myself, but that might not be all that productive. So let’s say I go instructional instead. That’s guilt inducing and constructive at the same time.

One of the tenants of the Seinfeldian Chain is that it’s addictive to keep putting little X’s in the boxes. That having a string makes you want to add to that string. It makes you want to avoid a gap like it’s the little red X version of getting pantsed in gym class–speaking of little and red. I am here to say I’ve thought of little else since I started this three day run of empty boxes.

The trouble is creating the gap at all, because once you’ve done that it feels like you just abandoned your power. Imagine a train muscling along the track: car after car after graffiti tagged car. Traffic backs up on either side of the crossing. Drivers put it into P or neutral and set the parking break. They roll down their windows and enjoy the evening air or curse. Either way this impenetrable locomotive commands them to stop. To take notice. To change their pathetic little plans. I am unstoppable! Then the last car rounds up the herd and lumbers by. The steel thunder fades. The blinking red lights abruptly don’t. The ding-ding arms go up. A gap.

“Fuck you train. I won’t be late for dinner now. Ha HA!”

The power resides in the continuity and the connectivity. If you can keep the gaps short the arms stay down. The lights blink. The thunder lulls but doesn’t die. A second locomotive appears on the horizon.

“Dammit. I bought ice-cream at the grocery for shit’s sake.”

Hopefully this entry will be the first of 863 more cars. Hopefully I can melt your vanilla.

I think I can.

Word count: 376

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Day 137: Deckard’s Stuff

The stars aligned so I watched “Blade Runner” on HD-DVD last night.  I started that at ten and ended after midnight.  These HD movies shine.  It’s like going back to the theatre to watch the thing–maybe even better.

What struck me aside from the clarity was the scale.  Everything in a shot was heaped on.  I don’t know what the budget was, but it’s as if a four year old were set in charge of making their own chocolate milk.  Just one more squeeze and I’m done–promise.  Everywhere the camera landed there was stuff: characterization stuff, tone stuff, mood stuff, genre stuff.  Everywhere: stuff.

I hope when I write that I learn to convey that even if a character doesn’t open a closet through out the entire novel that if they did stuff would tumble out. 

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Day 136: Nothing In Particular

I considered rolling another day with the Styx theme, but decided against it in favor of a bit of rambling instead. The point of this post will be to simply keep my fingers moving around the keyboard. and the thoughts flowing from my head. I believe that this is what is referred to as free writing. As I recall from having done this on paper in high school it results in crap. I suspect it was my creative writing teacher’s way of filling out an hour when he didn’t have enough material otherwise.

I do this sort of thing for the girls when they can’t sleep. I have two versions: Talk About My Day and Talk About the Stuff in My Room. Talking about my day is mostly geared toward getting the girls to wind down and to think about the sequence of events during the day. The point of talking about the stuff in their room is for them to listen to my hopefully soothing voice as they become acquainted with the items in their room.

Of course they are familiar with these items in their regular rooms, but we found on traveling from our home in the mountains to the grandparents that it made sleeping easier if we talked them through their new nightly surroundings for the week. The practice stems from my childhood fear and then annoyance of waking up in a strange place with no bearings. Being able to anchor the bookshelf next to the door and the dresser across from the window before you nod off has a calming effect when you wake up halfway and don’t immediately recognize where you are.

I like to think I am a baby whisperer, but I’m not. If they don’t respond in the first round or two I start wanted to pop their heads off.

I do love that they are growing more sophisticated everyday. Asking questions and formulating complex sentences. Thinking ahead tot he future. Wondering a little about the past. One’s brain is a steel trap of details. When we lose stuff or can’t find something we ask her. The other one can dredge up an event from months ago like it just happened and she still has the Band-Aid to prove it. It’s a wonder they don’t use more four letter words.

Word count: 402