Egad! It's A Novel!

Strike Two...

2006-11-23T01:18:00.000-07:00

...excerpted from a post on Typing Hurts...

- Twice now I've tried to write a novel and not succeeded. It really left me wondering this year. Why didn't I make it?
- We'll start with the obvious, time, I've got so much other stuff going on that there's really no way I should even have considered starting this thing (November, Turkey Month, DUH!). Todd was right way back when when he said I was too busy.
- Next we'll look at the way I approached the thing. I dove in with no thoughts at all as to where I was going to go with the novel. Why? Because I've never been much of a planner and I figured that it would reduce pressure on me to go a particular place. It did that, but it also did me in. How? Well not only did I not have a particular place to go, I had nowhere to go. It was like standing at the airport departure screens and trying to decide which destination best fit my personality. It's impossible, they all have things I wanted and didn't want. In the end I found myself wandering, OUCH.
- Finally we'll address my style of writing. I found over the course of eight thousand words that I really really like to (and tend to) write dialogue. In general, there's nothing wrong with that, and in fact it has led me to consider trying my hand at screen play. The problem here however was that it severely detracts from word count (which is something that matters extremely when it comes to NaNoWriMo) and that, frankly, was a massive mental hurdle. "I really should be farther along here, but all this talking is slowing me down."
- So there you have 'em, my reasons and excuses for not finishing a novel this year. Have I given up? For '06 yeah. Next year? Who knows? I'll probably be back. With somewhat of a plan... So, until next time...
- "Legends...are the spice of the universe, Mr. Data, because they have a way of sometimes coming true" -- Captain Picard

Six days in, almost five days worth

2006-11-07T02:21:00.000-07:00

It's been going slow, on Saturday I almost scrapped the whole thing and started over. I've not written on three of the six days because of various commitments and slackages. I'm not too far behind and I feel ok about where it's going. Thanks Steve M and Todd for encouraging me not to bail on the 3500 words I had in.

There's some overlap here, but it pretty much picks up where it left off, with some minor changes due to me and an unplugged laptop...

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“Whatever man, have a good night.” I started to walk away when someone yelled at me.

“David! Lookout!” I ducked another drunken swing, jogged half a block, and turned back to see who had saved me from a headache. It was Michelle, and to be honest, with my adrenaline running the way it was, I wasn't as thrilled to see her as I should have been. But it was good to see her. She caught up and we chatted as everyone else trickled to the meeting place. As the evening wore on, Michelle and I spent more and more time closer and closer to each other. I found myself sharing my opinions with her, opinions about art, the kind of thing that I don't really do. We talked and talked, walked and walked, and somehow lost the others. I later realized that they probably left us to ourselves. It must have been somewhat obvious. We didn't see them for the rest of the evening, and ended up at Tago's.

Tago's is dark, it has plenty of wood and touches of metal, it feels like a log cabin from the future, but not any future, like Spain in the future, I don't know if you can make sense of that, but it's like a Spanish log cabin from the future. I love it there, you can always find a seat, and if you want privacy, the booths are deep with high backs, and really no-one can tell what's going on. We ended up in a booth for six, I joked with the waiter that the table was a mite too small, and that we might need a bigger one. It got a laugh, it usually does. We sat in the booth for hours, and I stared at Michelle's features the entire time, picking them out of the dark one by one. Her face is thin but rounded, and her features are pleasant. She has black hair that is slightly curly, it was catching bits of what little light there was and I was enjoying watching it move as her head moved. It was almost mesmerizing and at times I had to re-focus on what she was saying.

I was thinking while we talked. Am I the only one that does this? Is it rude to think over what I'm saying and what she's saying? Whatever, it's how I am, it's what I do. I LOVE the way the light plays on her hair! I'm glad she has big eyes, I like big eyes, and they're making it easier to pay attention. But really she's really interesting, I think we could have been best friends. Maybe we can be best friends. No, I like her too much. She's wrapping up that story about her mom. My turn soon.

I nodded. “That's exactly the way my family is. Do you mind if I get the bill?”

She smiled. “On one condition.”

“Oh, really? What's that?”

“We go back to my place.” I waved at the waiter.

“Hrm, I'm not sure that's such a good idea.” I dropped the words deadpan and waited. She bit.

“Wha? Why not, is this not...” She bit too hard, I had to interrupt.

“No, no, no, sorry, I was just joking.” Damnit, open mouth insert foot.

“Oh, well, I mean, we don't have to if you don't want to.” Damnit Damnit DAMNIT! The waiter dropped off the ticket and she started to reach for her purse. In a last ditch effort at levity I made a painfully drawn out effort to retrieve my credit card from my wallet, trying to achieve perfect timing. I did, and as she reached to place her card on the table, I beat her to the punch.

“My card, your house. Final answer.” She laughed, I'd nailed it, her story about her mother had included a joke about 'Who wants to be a Millionaire'

“You win, I like you too much to say no.”

“Well there is still one problem.”

“What's that?”

“I have absolutely no idea where 'your place' is.”

“Well, that's for me to know and you to find out.”

“Do I get a hint?”

“It's walkable.”

“Well that's good, but mostly worthless.” I scribbled my name on the bill, stood up and extended my hand. “Shall we?”

“Mostly worthless? What does that mean?”

“Some people can handle walking farther than others.”

“Well I guess we'll find out which of those people you are.”

“I guess so.”

It was still about seventy five outside and the moon was the only thing that the city lights didn't drown out, but the night was beautiful regardless. And I was with a beautiful woman. We walked over sidewalks and crossed streets, we clicked our heels on manholes and skirted puddles. I liked being with Michelle, but I really liked being outside, downtown with her. I was having a glorious evening. We were having a glorious evening.

We turned onto a street that had houses, houses of both kinds, some being lived in and others with businesses in them. This is the city, parks and old trees, old houses with new interiors. This is why I love the city. We slowed at one house, it rose above the other houses on the block by a full story. She pointed up.

“That's mine.”

“The entire third floor?”

“Yep, wanna come see it?”

“Well, I walked farther than others didn't I? I think earned it.” She swung at me playfully. I laughed “So now you're the drunk hobo throwing punches?”

“You'd better watch it.”

“Sorry, no can do.”

“What?”

“I can't watch it, I'm watching you.”

“Well quit watching and start following.” We squeezed down the path next to the house, stopped at the gate and she spun the combo into the padlock of the gate.

“How did you ever get furniture back here?”

“Oh, there's an elevator in the garage on the other side.”

“An elevator? Fancy! Why aren't we using it?”

“Because it's nice outside and the elevator's kinda loud and sometimes I think I'll wake the Tollmans if I use it this late.”

“So we use the stairs.”

“Nope, it's a fire escape.” She kept making me laugh.

“OK then, into the flames we go.”

“Oh it'll be hot alright.”

“Hot like Nelly hot or hot like Shakira hot?”

“What's Shakira hot?”

“Oh, umm, like sexy hot.” Now I was embarrassed, but I got a coy grin.

“I have no idea where you're going with that...” dripping sarcasm “...but I meant that we're going to have to open the windows and turn fans on.”

“Ok, I can deal with that. How long have you been here?”

“Well I got it about a month after I got here, so that makes it about four and a half years.”

“Wow, that's a long time considering.”

“What? That I'm renting?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I really like it here.”

“I can see why.” The back yard where the fire escape climbed the wall of the house was not very wide close to the house, but there were stairs down a terrace and the lower portion looked as though it could host a variety of outdoor games. It seemed to me to be the perfect party yard. The furniture was nice and the landscaping was exquisite. The massive elm and cottonwood trees obscured most of the city lights and I was lucky enough to have the moon lighting the yard through a gap between the house and the tree nearest it. As we silently climbed the stairs I continued looking at the yard and noticed a jacuzzi pagoda in the far reaches of the yard. I found my tastes for yards completely satisfied with this one. It was perfect. I looked back when I stumbled lightly on one of the metal stairs.

“Careful.” She said with a tone that sounded as if she was wishing she had said it earlier.

“It's ok, I'm ok, I just wasn't watching where I was going.”

“So you were staring at my ass.”

“Is there any safe answer to that?” She laughed hard and almost let go of the railing.

“Are you trying to kill me?”

“Well you'd probably take me out on the way down.” She stopped, bent over on the top landing. Her chest was heaving with laughter and I barely made it up there myself. When I caught my breath I sighed and said “Can you imaging the headline for that one?” We busted up laughing again, and when it was all out we sat there enjoying the evening and each others company. I stared into her eyes and felt comfortable. We sat silent for several minutes. She swung her feet around and hung her legs off of the landing. I slid over and did the same next to her. I felt like I was going to fall forward and grabbed the edge without trying to be obvious. Michelle saw and giggled. I wanted to hush her but let it go. I sat with my hand on the edge and stared straight forward. I don't know what I was looking at, just staring. I saw her moving out of the corner of my eye, and felt her hand as she laid it over mine. I felt high.

I awoke to sunlight filtering through green leaves. There was a slight breeze and it tossed the leaves in such a way that shadows flowed across the bed. I watched them wave back and forth across her blanketed form. I looked around the apartment for the first time. It was wide open, with vaulted ceilings and the decorations were modern and sparse. I couldn't help thinking that if our styles in decoration met, we'd probably end up with something that looked a lot like Tago's. I snuck to the kitchen looking for coffee, I found two un-opened bags of Vanilla-Hazelnut something or other, and a mostly gone bag of French Vanilla. I opted out, left the kitchen and pulled the door to the fire exit open. The morning was phenomenal. I had an irresistible urge to run, but that wasn't happening in jeans. I decided to go for a walk instead and left a note with my cell number on it, time-stamped it and took off down the stairs.

I went left at the driveway, passing two blocks of homes and businesses side-by side, what a funny neighborhood. At the second corner there was a small coffee shop, I made a mental note, turned left at the corner, and checked out of the world.

I was thinking about last night. What had I done? What had we done? Why was this happening? I barely know her, really I don't even know her at all. Michelle Aravelo, who are you? Is this a one night stand? I guess not, I'm still there, well, not there per-se, but there's a breakfast conversation in the near future and I really don't know what the hell it's going to be like. Do we have similar interests? Is this stupid? What the hell is going on? Her eyes. That hair.

Space and time converged in my head. I saw her lying in pillows at Tago's, and a beer in her hand in the bed. Dreams entertained my mind as I walked, and I got lost. Lost in a maze of pavement cracks and patched asphalt. Tall houses and taller trees obscured the early sunlight and threw shadows in the oddest of directions. I stopped at a corner and got my bearings. I knew where I was, but I had no idea where I had come from. I walked toward the sound of traffic, turned right and went into a service station to get directions back to the coffee shop that I'd passed. What was it called? Not sure now, it started with a 'C' maybe. No, not Charlie's. Wait, wait, Capillupo's Cup! Twelve up and ten over? Yeah, I did walk the whole thing. Yeah, lot on my mind. Thanks.

I walked back, now fully aware of all the buildings, shops, homes, cars, and dog's that I had so obliviously passed only minutes ago. My brain stalled and it was all I could do to not count the manholes. Running in circles, wider and wider. The implications the consequences. Why did I ever let this happen. Is there any good to be had in all of this? Good lord what have I done? My god what have I done? This is not my house. This is not my beautiful wife. The song took over and I dwelt in it for the remainder of my walk. I stopped at the coffee house and got an extra almondy latte for myself and a French-hazelnut something or other for Michelle. French Hazelnut? Whatever. I climbed the stairs. Hesitation and anticipation growing with each increase in altitude. Maple hit my nose about three steps from the top. It was likely the most relieving thing that could have happened. I had something for her, and she had done something for me. The breakfast should go well. I kneed the latch and backed in through the glass door. It was a glass door, how'd I miss that?

“Do you like cream in your coffee?” Oh, man, she'd made some.

“Umm, usually, but...” I didn't quite know whether the humor approach was warranted.

“But what?” She asked standing up from the fridge door.”

“But I bought some.” I cringed. She laughed at me.

“I didn't start it yet, I just heard you come in and thought I'd grab the cream while I was in the fridge.” She called it a fridge. Well, everyone does, but I liked the way she said it. I laughed. We laughed.

“Pancakes?” I inquired.

“Pancake batter, waffle iron.”

“That's a new one.”

“One makes do...”

I went to the bathroom, was seriously tempted by the medicine cabinet, washed my hands instead. The purple towel made my smile. I was feeling extra gushy. I went back out and put my arms around her waist from behind. We rocked back and forth while she tended the waffle-cakes. I let go and set the table. We sat and ate. Silence whelmed and I felt pressure growing.

“These are good.” I had to say something.

“Thank Mrs. Butterworth.”

“Really, I didn't see her around at all this morning, thought she had it off.”

“This is good coffee, you checked the cabinets didn't you?”

“Yeah. I like the name of that place.”

“Yeah, Cap's a nice guy.”

“Cap?”

“Charlie Capillupo, the owner.”

“He own Charlie's too?”

“Haha, he wishes, they keep stealing his customers, prices too low.” I liked her more with every word, and doubts began slipping out of my head. I clung to a few and mustered all of my courage. Then I made the mistake of setting down my fork. She saw it coming and excused herself to the restroom. It was the most painful two and a half minutes that I can remember. I watched every single second tick by on the Salvador Dali-inspired clock that hung by the kitchen. Her hand was shaking when she sat down at the table.

“Well,” I wanted to start. “since we both know what's coming, do you mind if I cut to the chase?” She swallowed hard. Maybe she didn't know what was coming, and on second thought, I didn't know what was coming.

“Go ahead.” It was short and permission, but it barely made it's way across her lips. Words came suddenly, I'd not rehearsed these words and they scared me but they were true.

“I don't want this to end here, I don't want this to be all, but I need to know you better, this is so uncharacteristic...”

“...For both of us.” Knew that, needed to hear that.

“Yeah, so what do you think?”

“I think I agree.”

“So no more bed sharing for a bit?”

“Yeah...” She reached across the table for my hand and I let her take it. “No more bed sharing for a bit. Thank you.” She smiled. I smiled.

“Thank you.”

“Can I start?”

“With what?”

“Can I ask the first question?”

“Oh. Only if I can wash the dishes.”

“Only if I can clear the table.”

“Ok, go.” I headed for the kitchen and started a sink of water. I threw all the pots and miscellany into it.

“How well do you speak Spanish.”

“Perfectly, and with a perfect Mexico City accent.”

“Whatever, your turn.”

“Whatever?!”

“Yeah, whatever.”

“Ok then, why do you only drink vanilla flavored coffee?”

“Ooh! Good one!”

“Really? Then answer it.” I laughed and she threw a wet rag at me. I deflected it into the sink.

“Well, I just took a liking to it, and I guess I'm a creature of habit. What on earth do you do for those guys in Tokyo?”

“Ooh! Good one!” She hit me in the arm and had to laugh. “What kind of cellphone do you have?”

“What? You don't get to ask another one until you answer this one!”

“I am, I am, I'm just trying to explain it in an easy way.”

“Oh, it's a Samsung.”

“One of those new ones with the really nice camera on it?”

“Yeah.”

“Ok, that just came out here in the States, but the Japanese have had it for almost two years, and the phones they have now are so cool you wouldn't know what to do with them.”

“Cool schmool, are they cute?”

“They have cute ones too.”

“Good, so what does that have to do with what you do?” I went on to explain how my company is trying to bring this futuristic technology to America, because, after all, it exists, so why shouldn't we have access to it? I was showing her the gadgets on my phone when hers rang. We both jumped, and we both grinned. She answered it and wandered to the far end of the living room. I listened to her end of it.

“Yes, I will accept the charges.” She looked at me as if to ask 'who makes collect calls in this day and age?' I shrugged. “Matthew?!” I knew from the light in her eyes that it had to be family. And then it all went terribly wrong. Her face sunk. She grabbed the arm of the couch like it was the only thing to hold on to on a roller coaster. “Matt! Matthew!!” She stared at the phone. The call timer must have been blinking. She screamed. “Oh my god! Oh my god! Matthew! No!”

I was paralyzed. I had no idea what she would need at the moment. I had no idea what the moment called for. I had no idea what was going on. I managed to walk over to the couch and sit next to her. She didn't recoil from my touch, but she didn't lean into me either. I whispered softly.

“Honey, what's going on?” She was sobbing now. She said nothing and continued crying. “What happened?” Her sobs went on. I held her. She tried to say something.

“He said 'Go' and hung up. 'Michelle, Go.' Oh my god! Matthew!” I was lost, I didn't know where I was and I had no idea how I'd gotten there. She got up and went to the bathroom.

“Are you ok hon?”

“No, no, it's not ok.” and she shut the door behind her. She opened the door and met my un-averted gaze. “I'm gonna take a shower and then can we talk?”

“I guess so.”

“Ok.” she shut the door again and I heard the water start and I wondered where I was. I wondered what was going on and why I was in the middle of it and how I was going to get out of it and why I was in the middle of it and how I could help her and if I should go get in the shower with her until she forgot it all and we collapsed to the floor and both drowned and it was all over. Numbness crept from my toes upward through my calves and into my thighs. It crept into my stomach and became nausea and into my chest and became asthma. It pressed my heart up into my sinuses and my sinuses into my brain. The numbness was pain and the pain was numbness. I slipped into a waking unconsciousness until she emerged from the bathroom.

“You look like hell.” she said softly as she sat down quietly beside me.

“I feel like hell. What's going on Michelle?” She began to cry again, but she seemed somewhat composed as compared to earlier.

“Well, I guess it was your turn to ask a question.” She turned sideways, placing her shin against my thigh. “I uh, I have a brother Matthew, and he's into, we used to...” she faded off, and her eyes faltered.

“Go on, it's ok.” She stiffened.

“I don't know if it's ok David. I don't know if I can trust you. With this, trust you with this.” Words fell from my mouth without thought, and again I feared them and again they were true.

“If you don't trust me I can't help you and if that's the case then this ends here and now.” They hurt coming out and I wanted desperately to take them back. Their truth stung clearly and accurately. She sobbed hard and a tear jerked down her cheek. My eyes welled up and I let a tear fall. I was involved in my entirety with something that was at the moment beyond my comprehension.

“I know, I know David. Can I trust you?”

“Yes, you can trust me.” And with I stepped into the deep water. She told me of her childhood and of her father who was always home but always had money. She told of how she and Matt had discovered that he was involved in organized crime and how he had brutally inducted them into the so-called 'family' when he found out that they had found him out. She told me how they had leaned on each other and achieved regular success. How they had moved up the ranks and how they were disliked for being the children of their father. They didn't like their father and they grew distant. Matthew continued and began to like what he was doing. She hated it the entire time.

Matthew finally got high enough to challenge their father and she told me without tears how he had killed him. Matthew somehow got her out and he would never tell her how he had done it. All she knew was that one day he told her she could leave and that she would be safe. She believed him and left at once. She never went back. She moved to Colorado and enrolled in school. She graduated with massive debt but a life of her own earned on her own terms and in her own time. She never looked back. Until now. The phone had rung and brought the entire world crashing down on her. It had been Matt and he had said only two words, her name and 'go'. She believed him and she had to leave at once.

She didn't know where to go, she had no idea what to do.

“David, I'm so sorry, I don't know what to do. You should leave. I'm so sorry.”

“I'm not leaving.” She lay forward putting her head in my lap. I ran my fingers through her hair. We sat in silence.

My brain alternated between thinking and not. When it was thinking it alternated between her and me. It thought about her and if I should leave. It thought about me and what I could do. It confused the issue with emotion heroes from long ago. And no matter how much Peter loved her, what made the Pan refuse to go. And I refused to go. And we sat in silence.

Suddenly the world slowed down. I felt her hair running through my fingers in the softest manner, smooth and vibrant, and I knew. I knew what to do. It came to me in the silence and it came with a power equal to the words that had so assuredly slipped out of my mouth.

“Pack some things, we'll walk to my car and go.”

“Go where David? What are you thinking?”

“Do you trust me?

“You said I could.”

“Then pack some things for two or three days, light things for warm weather.” I held onto her hand as she stood. Our fingers slowly slid apart.

Forty-five minutes later she locked the stair door behind us and began crying. I carried two bags and she clutched a small carrying case to her chest. We walked silently down the block and around the corner. All of the typical Saturday morning people were out and salutating over-friendly hellos and good days. Some took a hint from the looks I shot back and continued on their way. Others were less astute and looked perturbed as we continued past without so much as a word their way. I noticed all of it but didn't care. We passed a small television shop with sets on in the window. I wondered at it and how it would maintain it's existence in this day and age. The sets all showed identical video, and for a moment I felt as though I were in the 50's. I watched the four men in pinks reds and grays choreograph their way across treadmills and we passed the store. We turned at Tago's and she let the case down to her side and slid her arm inside mine. I slowed to accommodate it. I wanted badly to be close to her. I wanted badly for this not to be happening. I wondered how I had gotten here.

I yanked a parking ticket out from under the wiper on my Lincoln LS. Inside the black seats were hot and we were glad to have the seat coolers. I wound my way southward down multiple streets. Avoiding the obvious choice of Speer, feeling somehow that the side streets might somehow end this and preserve what I knew of this life. When I hit Washington I knew my time was short. I-25 loomed and the Southbound on-ramp took my car. The world beyond the road darkened and I detached, focusing on the tunnel before me. Past Park Meadows I put my foot to the floor and plugged in the fuzz-buster. Castle Rock. Colorado Springs. Pueblo. They all came and went. New Mexico came quickly and my foot pressed harder into the floor. The car would not go any more. The Viper beeped the telltale combo and I lit the brake lights solid until I was down to the limit. He flashed his headlights at me when I passed. I flashed a grin and petted my fuzz-buster. Michelle made a noise for the first time the entire trip. I looked over. Her hand was over her mouth and I could see teeth between her slightly open fingers. She was giggling.

“What's so funny?”

“What's it's name?”

“What's what's name?”

“Your detector thingy.”

“Oh, that, Viper I guess.”

“Lame.”

“Fine then, give it a name.”

“Victor.”

“How very alliterate of you.”

“And punny.” I laughed. Sighed. Stepped on the pedal again.

“So where are we going David?”

“Mexico.”

“Where?”

“Tio's house and then probably Abuelo's house.”

“Who's Tio and Abuelo and where do they live?”

“Tio's uncle Ruben and he lives outside Juarez. Abuelo's grandpa, it means grandpa, and we'll find out where he's at from Tio.”

“Sounds interesting. How long will it take?” I had other things on my mind and I didn't answer her question.

“Michelle.”

“What is is Dave?”

“You need to know that my family in Mexico lives a lot like the family that you grew up in. And you need to know that it's pretty common for where we're going. I get endless amounts of grief from them for not moving back and for being too straight-laced.”

“I don't know if I like this.”

“You trusted me, and I'm taking you to where you'll be safest.”

“I'm scared.”

“I know, and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't also.”

“Thank you David.”

“It's ok, but I need to know more about your family and what they were into.”

“I don't want to tell you.”

“Listen Michelle, the more I know about this before we get to Tio's, the more careful I can be and the safer we will be.”

“I thought it was safe.”

“It is, but Tio does business with some families in the states and I want to make sure it's as safe as possible. I need to know what you did and any names you might know.” She sunk into her seat. She looked more troubled now than when she had originally told me about her criminal past.

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7955 words and counting... oh, and I gave up on formatting...

Three days in, two days worth.

2006-11-03T23:30:00.000-07:00

Ok, I went up to Copper for opening day today, and then I had work, so I didn't do any writing today, but I have Saturday off and I fully intend to write my fool head off then.

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Some people are just too damn cheery in the morning, those are the people that should only have one job, they should all be baristas. And if you aren't one of those types, you shouldn't be allowed to be a barista, I mean, who want's to drag their ass out of bed in the morning, only to get to the coffee shop and have some depressed bedheaded blondie grumbling about the ¼ pump of almond syrup that you want added to your latte? Exactly, noone wants that, and it figures that that's how my day started...

She's probably a very attractive girl under normal circumstances, but she obviously isn't a morning person and she looked it. I could see it from the moment I opened the door, this wasn't going to be pleasant. When I got to the counter she wasn't even looking at me, something in the pocket of her apron had her attenton. I waited, 'cause, you know, sometimes there's stuff in your pocket that you have to pay attention to. I waited for a minute and after finally deciding that she must be texting her boyfriend, I cleared my throat at an admittedly rude level. She looked up...

“I'll be with you in a minute” I was d o n e done.

“Oh, it's been a minute.”

“Well sir...” Oh no! Don't you 'sir' me!

“I'll have a big latte with a quarter pump of almond syrup, now or never.” She was flustered and I had won. She turned to make my latte and I'm pretty sure that her cell phone closed and she lost her lengthy in-progress text message. Yeah, she totally swore and I almost laughed out loud. It's amazing how we humans can change our moods in mere seconds. Don't get me wrong, I was still pissed at the grumpista, but somehow the victory of knowing I'd put her back in her place turned the morning around in a split second.

I hauled out my laptop and went for email, the guys in Tokyo always send me shit in the middle of the night and no matter how early I drag my ass out of bed it's too late for them and I've already got two emails about every thing under the sun. Speaking of the sun, I had to close the blind next to me at the coffee shop, the thing was crepping up from the horizon like a patient kid after the cookie jar, and it was getting in my eyes. I could tell it was going to be another hot one, good, summer should melt rubber tires on cars as far as I'm concerned. It was motivation to get things done early, so I turned back to my email. I had two new messages, one newsletter from the cricket association that I didn't bother to read (I don't even know why I subscribe to the damn things, do you do that? Just not read all the stuff that comes at 12:01am?) The other was from work, weird, only one email from the guys. Well, not the guys in general, but THE GUY, hehe, the General. Yeah, nothing from the regulars, and something from the boss. Here's to being human, my mood was in the toilet again. I don't know what it is, but there's always something ominuos about words from the boss. I guess it feels to me like getting called to the principles office. The nice thing about it coming in email form is that it's not on the PA and you're the only one that knows that you're in trouble. I stared at the subject line. “Two quick things.” this was gonna be bad. I clicked through.

Dave,

first thing: thanks for the report on the mexico project, the guys really got a kick out of the extra-curricular language use..

second thing: there was a major power outage here today, rare rare rare thing for Tokyo, but we were out of commission the whole day, so take the day off. See you monday, I hit LAX at 2pm and then denver at a little after seven, can you pick me up.

I guess that's more than two things, either way, have a good weekend.

Han.

What the hell was that? What the hell kind of day is this? Seriously! I don't know if I can take any more of this roller coaster shit. I mean, I was relived to have good news instead of bad, but up down up down, I can't take that kind of thing. I closed my laptop. Took a final sip of my latte, I swear she put a whole pump in, it was really almondy. I got up and threw it at the trash can. It missed and sloshed on the wall. Sayonara bitchista! I've got the day off!

Hot days require minimal clothing and sandals. Unless you go running, and I had shoes in the car, so I decided to do that. There's a few nice trails out here west of Golden, and a couple of them are in open space areas so they're not too veritcal and as such are perfect for running. It was only 7 and there was noone around so I changed at the car. I set my watch and took off. From here the ridges to the east block the rising sun fairly well, and I had some shade early so I started off hard. When the fireball crested I'd slow down and jog for a while.Running is one of those things that allows you to think. And for better or worse, that's what I did.

I thought about what Tokyo would look like dark, without any power at night. Moonlight gleaming off the millions of shiny towers and high-rises. What a place, not a concrete jungle, a silver jungle of glass and metal, with windows sprouting like leaves from branches and moving light around like an aspen in fall. Fall. Fall was coming soon and it was going to get cold. Cold means snow and I can deal with that, it's not the greatest thing in the world, but at least it allows you to hurtle yourself down the side of a mountain at insane rates of speed. Speed, Speeding, Tickets. I need to pay that ticket. That cop was really nice to me, I thought I was going to get off with a warning. Oh well. I can't run all day, what am I going to do after this? I'll need a shower. Crap, I left my phone in the car. Has anyone ever melted a phone in the sun? Like they do with crayons? Oh man, I remember that summer when they cooked a full breakfast on some guys hood on the news. It was three in the afternoon, but I guess sizzling bacon is more impressive than something you'd have for dinner. Unless they did fajitas. Fajitas woud have been way cooler than bacon. I don't have any water, I shouldn't run too far. I'm the only one out here, people must think I'm crazy, I am crazy, I love the heat. I should move to Florida, no, Arizona, I couldn't take the humidity in the south.

When I got back to the car I had missed two calls. One was a client, and the other was from Han. It was pretty rare for Han to call, he pretty much hated the lag produced by the lengthy connection that was required to talk overseas. I checked my messages. Han wanted to know if there was any way I could meet him in LA on monday, there was a client that caught wind that he'd be passing through and they wanted to meet us. I decided to take the early flight Monday, and I texted him back. There was an accident on Colfax by the Mills so I had to detour going home, and I was well ready for a shower by the time I got there.

I pulled into the drive and aimed the tires just right of the newspaper. Perfect, it was right at the door as I opened it. When I opened the door PETSNAME came skittering across the wooden floor and went right past me. I don't know why I ever got a dog, I love him to death but I don't think I can pay him the kind of attention he needs. But seriously, what single guy can? He cruised around the house with me as I dumped my work stuff in a sucessive string of piles and headed for the shower. PETSNAME sat at the edge of the tub while I steamed off the stench of the morning's run. I got out and froze, I'd left the AC vent open in the tiny little room and the entire thing was colder than I could have ever wanted. I got out of there pronto and grabbed some light summer wear.

Out in the backyard Baron entertained himself by throwing a rope back and forth across the yard. Several times it crashed into plants or deck furniture, I laughed, maybe this is why I got a pet. I sipped on some strong sweet tea and checked my personal email. There was a rustling in the trees next door and I looked over to see Katherine, the neighbor of neurosis. A thought flashed through my mind and I did what I swore I'd never do. Setting the laptop down I went over and said hi, and aked her if she would mind watching Baron while I was in LA for a few days. She was way too exited about it and it made me nervous, so I told her to take him for the weekend also. I figured that would give me a couple days to see if it would even work and get him in a kennel if it didn't. I snagged the rope from his mouth and hurled it into Kate's yard (she had just insisted I call her Kate) He was over the fence before she could blink, and they played for a few minutes. I excused myself and went to gather his bowls and food. I set them all by the fence and went back for the pooper scooper. Well, that was taken car of. Now what to do with the rest of the day? I went back to the laptop to see if there were any shows that I might be interested in that evening, and in the process I remembered that it was First Friday. I shot off an email to about ten people reminding them and mentioning that I would be at Jack 'n Grill on Federal for dinner before. I closed the laptop and then my eyes.

I thought about Baron and the first time I'd seen the little fellow. Well, he was little then. But I guess there's something to be said about puppies being hawked at Safeway, he's really a great mutt. Katherine, Kate, what makes a person so obsessive about things? I don't know what I'd do in life if I was any less normal than I am, of course I'm not normal am I? I run in the heat, I'm crazy. Michelle, I'm really hoping Michelle will come to the Artwalk, and even better if she shows for dinner. If there's anyone I know right now that I could really be interested in, Michelle's the one. I knew it from the first time I saw her, she just had that movement about her, I could be interested in her. I guess I already am interested in her. Oh the fickle brain. Oh how I love the heat of LA, if only it were prettier. What to do for the weekend? What to do. Warmth. The sun is nice. I'd better not fall asleep. Crispy Crunchy Me.

I whistled for Baron. When he came bounding over the fence I remembered that I had surrendered him for the weekend. We wrestled in the grass and I faked a throw back over the fence and he took the bait. Bye bye boy, don't freak her out. I put a movie on and set my alarm. Something about the day was screaming for a nap, and I honestly don't think I made it past the opening credits of Running Man. And I woke in the middle of the closing credits to my phone clanging on the coffee table. I reared my sleepy head and pressed the Blackberry to my face.

“Wuhello?”

“Oh dude, you're sleeping on a Friday?! You're so dead!”

“Whatever Mike, I have it off, you coming tonight?”

“Yeah, probably, you mind if I bring a girl?”

“Yeah, I kinda wanted this to be invite only.”

“Oh, well then I effed your plans.”

“What's her name?”

“Julia, she's from accounting.”

“Julia from accounting, eh? Sounds hot.”

“Shaddup, you have no shame.”

“Well that's true, I guess that means Michelle really better be there.”

“Michelle from the bookstore, eh? Sounds hot.”

“We are shameless.”

“That we are.” Mike, and only Mike could know me well enough to have that kind of conversation. I think that's the definition of friend. I asked if he knew any of the artists that had stuff on Santa Fe this month.

“No, not this time, I think Arnold's got a friend with something showing, but I don't know anyone.” That was a bummer because knowing artists always gives you the better experience. My phone beeped at me.

“Hey, hang on man, I got another call.”

“Sure, whatever.” I switched over.

“Hello?”

“Mijo!”

“Hola Mama. I have Mike on the other line, can I let him go and come right back?”

“Si mijo, si.” I switched back.

“Mike, it's my mom, I gotta take it, see you guys at Jack n Grill at six?”

“Yeah, then, lates.” Then I switched back to my mother, I won't bore you with that conversation, suffice it to say that my mother is a very nosy person, so I end up answering all manner of questions about my life and listening to stories about others. Between the family and the rest of the family and the neighborhood she can go on for hours. The only thing that ever shuts her up is telling her I have a girl calling me. I hate to say it that way, but she goes on and on, you have to do something. Mother would have married me off at ten if she could have, I think she wanted grandkids more than she wanted children of her own. Maybe she just wants to continue the tradition of massive families. Who really knows, right?

Sometimes I don't know what to do with my Mexican heritage. I grew up here in the states, I speak both languages fluently and sound to both peoples like I belong to them. Mama would say that I'm no Mexican, and I always say back to her that she's right, I'm American. Then she says she still loves me and usually follows that with a sigh and some comment like “at least he still eats like a Mexicano”. Why do I even bother?

I headed down to Jack n Grill early, got a Dos Equis and sat in the sun watching the cars stream by on Federal. Two beers later Mike and Julia showed up. I laughed when I saw them coming, Mike has always had a thing for Hispanic girls. Sometimes I wonder if that's why he started hanging out with me in the first place, but that always goes out the window with the fact that I really don't know that many Latinas anymore. As they approached I stood and extended my hand.

“Hola Julia, me llamo David, como esta?” A huge smile spread across her face, and a frown darkened Mikes.

“Hola David, mucho gusto!” We went on for a few minutes to the chagrin of Mike. Finally she looked at him.

“You didn't tell me your best friend was Latino, and how is it that you don't speak a lick of Spanish?”

“Yeah Mike, porque no espanol?” I'm glad he's a good sport, it's too much fun.

“Whatever guys, I'm white as they come and there ain't nothin' you can do to change it.”

“Apparently you're from Arkansas also.” Julia was good at this. I laughed. We all laughed. I bought a round and it wasn't long before the conversation was rolling. Carl showed up soon after and so did Andy. Andy had a girl in tow, a busty blonde named Alex. We had more beers and ordered food, I told everyone to save room for Xangos. Someone asked what a 'zango' was.

“Well, it's like food art.” I said “It's tortilla wrapped cheesecake fried, sugared and drowned in white chocolate and raspberry sauce” I love enticing people with food.

I kept looking up and down Federal, hoping to see the green Jetta that would bring Michelle. I'm not sure if I seemed distracted or not, but I couldn't help but think about her. I gave up. It was useless wasting brains and emotion on something so trivial.

The caravan to the Santa Fe art district was a raucous one, passing and cutting and lane changing. Whoever it was that said that adults are just children with more responsibility and some money was right. I knew that everyone likes to park in differen places so we decided to meet on the northwest corner at tenth. I got there first. I was leaning against a glass window watching hipsters float by when I got hit in the arm.

“What the?!” I turned left to see what the hell was going on. Homeless guy. What are you doing here?

“gimme OUT my conner!”

“What?!” I had to duck another drunken swing.

“mah corn er, giddout, gout zhwere I stay”

“Actually I don't think this corner belongs to anyone.”

“Whahuh? Mah conner!”

“Not really, it's a public sidewalk, anyone can stand here.”

“buhs there, yer foot, yer foos on whur mah hat go.” His breath was rank but I wasn't about to back down, and moving a single step would give him the edge he needed. I had noticed that we were making a scene, and not only had the people on this corner started to stare, but others on other corners were staring now.

“I'm sorry if this is where you usually put your hat, but I'm waiting for my friends here.”

“Bahs no budeez gots nah frenz.”

“Umm, yeah, I do have friends, and as a matter of fact, here they come now, so I'll let you have your corner back.”

“Iz mah conner, ya gots nah frenz, gerroff!”

“Whatever man, have a good night.” I started to walk away when someone yelled at me.

“Dude! What the hell was that all about?”

“Drunk bum, that's what it was all about.”

“Drunk bum, eh? Oh. Hi Michelle. You made it.” Mike the master of switching topics, and for once I was relieved to have him do it. We started off our tour of the art galleries just wandering. But then Alex (you know, the blonde one) had a brilliant idea, each of us was to choose a gallery and we'd hit all of those and then go get some drinks.

P.s. - I don't really like what I have so far. but whatever, it's a rough draft, so... also, please don't tell me how good it is, or how much you don't like it, or any of that stuff, it will make me think too hard about what I've gotten in already and I will waste time going back over it.

Hey! They stole my stuff!!!

2006-10-17T00:44:00.000-06:00

Has anyone been watching Jericho?
It's a new drama on CBS, and it's pretty interesting.
But as I watched the first couple of episodes I couldn't help but think about the content I wrote for NaNoWriMo 2005 (yes, that miserable one day of effort).
Seriously, watch Jericho, and then go read my stuff.
Or Visa-versa.
Whaddya think?
Did I get jacked?

Here it comes...

2006-10-15T00:48:00.000-06:00

two weeks until the 2006 effort begins.
to be honest, i've already begun my effort.
no no no, i'm not cheating.
i'm just reading 'No Plot? No Problem!'

This is a monumental effort.
I'll need your support.
Please help by commenting.
If you can stand it, read what I've written.
If you can't but know someone who might, tell them.
I'm really gonna go for it this year.
I want you to be there with me.

After these messages...

2006-01-01T00:01:00.000-07:00

We'll be riiight back.

I will be back next year (this year) for NaNoWriMo 2006 and will try again.

Or Not

2005-11-05T01:44:00.000-07:00

failing miserably

Day1 Nov2 - word count: 2147

2005-11-03T02:53:00.000-07:00

A forceful wind blew across the dusty parking lot, throwing leaves to and fro, swirling them in a manner reminiscent of miniature tornadoes. One dry Cottonwood leaf died a crackly death beneath the black rubber sole of a man's working boots. The boots were worn lightly, as if they'd been recently purchased and used sparingly. The yellow laces seemed out of place against the black leather, but not weird, just different. The tattered ends of well worn blue-jeans hung down over the tops of the boots and their legs rose to a brown leather belt, cinched tightly, causing the stomach of the man to show slightly. The belly pouch was held in by a thick red and black, traditional plaid long-sleeve work shirt. The shirt was nearly see-through at the elbows and the red squares that dominated it's surface were stained in many shades of grease. Thick, cracked hands hung from the sleeves, and they were bare save a thick golden band adorning the left ring finger.

The left hand rose to scratch at the beard that covered a face that was nearly as rough as the hands themselves. The gray-black beard grew wildly un-groomed and it's length and color matched that of the hair on the man's head. He wore glasses covered in dust, and he peered through them with a pair of eyes that glowed a deep ocean green. His name was Blaine Callahan and he was alone in the world. He looked around the parking lot, and everything was there. Everything but one thing, that is. The people were missing.

“Where are you?!?!” he bellowed to the world, to no-one, and to himself. His voice echoed off the buildings briefly before being swept away in the wind. His construction-worker frame sagged into the bed of his truck, and he lied down so quickly that he nearly hit his head. He was exhausted beyond anything he'd ever known; mentally, physically, and emotionally. He closed his eyes and sleep ran from the terror of his thoughts. They overwhelmed him again and again. Sitting up and dragging himself up against the back of the cab, he cleared his head for one last attempt to find a clue in the chaos of his head. Anything to make sense of the nonsense.

---

The screeching 'whoop – whoop' of the alarm clock penetrated Blaine's ears, dove into his sub-conscious, and woke him from a dead sleep. The forty-seven year old man flung his covers off, sat up and noticed something amiss. The flinging of covers was usually followed by the sharp inhale of his wife as the cold air brushed across her bed-warm body. Today it wasn't. Six AM was somewhat early for Laurie to be up. 'I made my lunch last night' he thought while trying to justify her absence. He clamored to the bathroom only to find if vacant. The kitchen, dining room, garage.

“Laurie!” Her car was still in the driveway, the newspaper still lying half-buried underneath it. Her clothes and shoes, keys and cellphone, all lay untouched in their various places in the house.

“You can't just freaking vanish, Laurie! What the hell is going on!?” Thinking he'd lost his mind Blaine decided to resume his pre-work routine. The coffee pot sputtered to life as he stuffed a bagel into his mouth two bites at a time. He shed his pajamas and climbed into the shower. The hot water released him from the remaining bonds of sleep and brought his mind to life. Doubt and terror took turns invading his thoughts, and by the time he'd finished he'd all but given up on sanity, reason, and logic. Blaine was baffled and was beginning to have a headache.

Dressed and ready for work, his wife still missing, Blaine sat on the couch with the phone and began dialing phone numbers. He started with friends who she might have been with. When five people failed to answer their home and cell numbers panic entered his mind for the first time. He dialed the local 24hour grocer, nothing. He tried several news stations, and he turned on the TV, ringing filled his ears and static filled his eyes. Panic again entered Blaine Callahan and he pounded 9 – 1 – 1. His throat constricted, his heart pounded, his ears rang, and so did the phone line. For ten minutes he paced the living room, hoping for an answer and dreading none. He went outside again and wandered the yard, lunch box in hand. When the automated female voice told him to hang up and try again Blaine threw the phone into the street with all his might. When it smashed into the ground the battery flew loose and skidded several feet beyond the impact point, stopping only against the rubber tires of a car, a car that he'd not noticed. He recognized it immediately as the little Geo Metro that the paper boy drove, and he also recognized immediately that the car was awkwardly parked. No, it wasn't parked at all, it was stopped with the front bumper pressed hard against a fire hydrant and the engine was running. It looked as though the car had hit it at about the speed that the paper boy passed through the neighborhood. Peering in the window he could see the list of houses to deliver to and that his was the last address that had been crossed off. Pulling the door open he turned off the car, it's static-blaring radio and removed the keys from the ignition.

His brain was overwhelmed with possibilities and a sort of shock began to envelop him. Almost on auto-pilot Blaine went to his truck and got in. He started it, backed out of the driveway, and began a slow tour of the neighborhood. Two other cars had crashed on the street. Alice Hathaway's green Toyota Camry was slammed sideways into her husbands Range Rover, and a car he didn't recognize was nearly halfway into the blue house six doors down. Two houses later Blaine saw something that drove him out of his running truck and into the street.

“Here boy, come here! Come on, it's OK big guy!” His excitement frightened the golden retriever and it turned to run. Grabbing his lunch from the truck he threw half of the tuna sandwich at the dog and successfully gained it's trust. When if came near to claim the remainder of the sandwich. Blaine patted it on the head and couldn't resist hugging the smelly dog. Feeling the collar under his fingers he rotated it until the tags came into view.

“Buster! That's not very creative is it big guy?” The dog looked at him with black eyes that begged for more food. Setting a few pretzels on the drivers seat of the Dodge was all it took to get Buster in, and man and dog re-started the tour of the neighborhood. Finding no signs of human life on his street, or the next one, or the three after that, Blaine decided to venture out of the housing development.

The light was out in the distance as the Black Dodge slowly put the side street behind it. As they got closer it was clear that chaos had been there. The intersection was full of morning traffic, but it was all disordered. There were several cars smashed beyond recognition and even the ones that had obviously been waiting at a standstill had bumped into each other. One entire turn lane had rolled into the intersection and collided with a mangled mess of metal. The train of cars blocked the street effectively and they were forced to drive over the curb to get past the mess.

“Buster, can you tell me what the hell is going on?” The dog's ears perked at the mention of it's name and all Blaine could do was give it more pretzels. They drove down the middle of the boulevard, weaving slowly between the various wrecks. When they got to the nearest gas station he pulled the truck in and found an empty pump. While the tank filled on the truck he went inside and grabbed two large gas cans from the shelves. He started the first can on filling and returned to the store. When he came back out, his arms were full. Both hands were holding cases of bottled water and the space between his arms and his body was filled with as many bags of beef jerky as he could manage. He lost several between the doors and the truck. Filling the second gas can he returned to the store again and filled three boxes with non-perishables and setting them on a dolly, he added four more cases of water before going back out to the truck. The second gas can had overflowed and there was gas all over the cement. Swearing silently he stopped the flow and after capping the can he rinsed it with two bottles of water. It wasn't until he was pulling out of the station that he realized that he'd switched from panic and shock into survival mode. Blaine was briefly proud of himself before the shadow of his situation overcame him.

The endless rows of wrecks soon bored him and he headed for the places where people gathered en-masse. He hoped to find at least one other person who, like him had not vanished This was like some awful movie, this couldn't be happening. Dousing himself with water to assure that he was awake worked, and he woke from a daze just in time to avoid an overturned cement truck and the still wet flow of gray that was slowly oozing from a gash in the side of the tumbler. Two malls and several hospitals later he gave up on the ghost town that Berton, Kansas had become.

“What the hell do you do with a hundred fifty thousand people?” he asked the dog and himself. Pulling onto the highway Blaine found the road surprisingly clear. Most of the vehicles here had been traveling at high speed and had left the roadway when their drivers had 'disappeared' or whatever they'd done. Fifty, sixty, seventy miles an hour, swerving around the occasional tangled semi truck. He plowed the Dodge through a small mountain of watermelons that had spilled from a produce trailer. West bound on I-70, the Colorado border was only fifty miles and Denver was the closest metropolitan area, someone had to still be there. You can't get rid of five million people.

Three hours later on the outskirts of the Denver metro area Blaine slowed the truck. The highway was obstructed with the charred carcass of an aircraft. Getting out of the truck he picked through some of the debris and found nothing, but what was he looking for? Compelled by the scene he continued to investigate the wreck. The plane was large and the wreckage easily covered all eight lanes of the highway. Looking over his right shoulder to the north, he could see the peaks of DIA not far off, this plane had not gone far. Digging through some luggage that was strewn near the rear of the craft and had not been burned he found a suitcase with clothes that would fit him.

“Great, this'll save me from some 'shopping' later.” On his way back to the truck he heard a yelp and whimper from the dog.

“Buster! Where are you!?” Another whine led him beyond one of the engines and directly to the retriever. “What's going on dog?” Buster limped toward him a few steps, faltered, and turned back to a pile of black char. When Blaine got close he could see the dog digging with one front paw and supporting itself with the other, which was bleeding moderately. Reaching for the dogs collar to pull it away from the pile he got snapped at and Buster resumed digging. It took him three more tries to get the dog away without getting bitten, but as soon as he did he relaxed in relief and the mutt escaped with one big lunge.

“Damnable dog!” He yelled and lunged after it. Buster took off at full speed and he had something clenched between his jaws. When they both tired of the chase the dog sat down to chew it's 'catch' and Blaine tackled it. Wrenching the black object away from Buster, he inspected it. What he saw made him think he was crazy. It was a human femur. Racing back to the pile where the dog had been digging, Blaine found the rest of the remains and shouted for joy. This meant there had to be others out there, if someone was on that plane when it crashed, there would be more alive, where he'd find them he had no idea, but Blaine Callahan knew that he had to find them.

Egad, It's A Novel

2005-11-03T02:32:00.000-07:00

So I was browsing blogs late last night and noticed that someone was devoting the month of November to something called NaNoWriMo - so I checked it out and remembered as the page loaded that I've seen this thing before.
It's National Novel Writing Month.
30 days, 50,000 words.
I'm two days late to the game but I've challenged the guys to join me and give it a go.
I personally hope they get into it, that way I'll have some serious motivation to complete this.

Holy crap this is going to be a long November.
2000 words a day should get it done by the 27th or so with a couple days to edit the thing.

Here's to the Great American Disaster!

- Gabe