Christmas Vacation

I'm starting to think Paris Hilton can pull off Magenta if that Rocky Horror remake is ever done. Don't believe me, check out Repo: The Genetic Opera, if you had told me Paris would be in one of my soon to be favorite movies, i would have laughed and scorned. Next Digression

My alarm clock is gone, rolled away in a sheet of plastic bubble rap to be opened after New Years, praise be to holiday vacations. I go back to work on the 5th, in the meantime, there is shopping to dabble in, Dragons Age Origins to be played, and Dark Shadows is in the mail. Next Digression

Doctor Who, and the inconvenience of the End of Time, not to mention a Buffy flashback or two. Praise Andrew and his favorite Bond, Timothy Dalton, mines Sean Connery. I love Obama as much as the next non-committed person, he's ok, but why are people in England hoping that he has the power to save them from this nasty recession. Like Obama is on tv tonight, and the recession will be over with his great plan, he's going to save us. No, Doctor WHO is going to save us that's why I'm watching this thing called Doctor Who, not Doctor Obama, but i could use a little Doctor Paul. Someday, someone is going to do something about Obama not passing your basic spellcheck, it's been a year already, and I'm tired of seeing Obama signaling he's been misspelled. I may be a minority here, but i don't mind when things don't stay dead, i love those swooping in to ruin your day spiels. I'm crossing galaxies just so i can kick your ass.

It fills be with an urge to cuddle.

All the redlines under Obama have just vanished, should i be praying, a sign of God this.

Other than that, and Catherine Tate being around for ten seconds before the headaches came, she better be front in center next time, because you see, I'm in love. AM I BOVVERED

Then there was June Whitfield, and i was excited maybe Patsy Stone would stop in to give the good Doctor a slash. Ah, i love British TV cause at some point you get to see everyone again. The Digressions are over.

I'm looking at two sections, and then I'm done. Thursday and Friday, the setup may not be entirely original, but it works for me. Strict order for what is going to be a multiplexed ending. The interludes throughout the book take place on Friday, the day when everything happened, and our friends are making their way north to O'Hare, and getting acquainted with each others fallacies. TEH FANCY

I made this very hard for myself, keeping control of a big cast, and the way i cut up the time zones. Jake and company race to O'hare while recounting the events that led to that fateful Friday full of drugs, contempt, and the usual disdain for central authority. With a few stops for cross words, petty crimes, and recreational refreshments, our trio makes it to the Windy City as the trains arrive, dropping off their cargo that survived the calamity down south. Until that point, Jake was ready to tag along with whatever magical destination Rain/Ozma had in mind, but with a bout of melancholy and an opportune brain fart, Jake leaps off the top of a luxurious grand patio, and beats it. It was one of those moments where the story took over from what i had in mind, a thankful occurrence. I had planned on all three taking the blueline into the airport, racing upstairs to yada yada yada. I'm not ready to talk about that yet, only the events leading up to it.

The scene on the blueline is partly written, like saintly anti-authoritarians, they dump the remaining passengers at Rosemont, god that must suck, and take control of the train, tearing it from the tracks to crash into the danker parts of the airport. No one notices, why, because everyone is upstairs dealing with Mark Tavers, and his anti-authoritarian scheme. A little late to the party, but that will be the least of Jake Fastet's problems.

Anyways, besides that garbled mess few will understand, Jake ran away from Ozma. Turns out it makes my ending a little easier to manage, and adds another conflict. God, the race to DC should be very interesting, but Thursday and Friday have to be finished first.

I had a big problem. I had fifteen pages of material that i was about to trash, the mood, the location, all seemed wrong, what was the point of going back to class, and sitting at a desk with the events of the last few days under his belt. If you're leaving town on Friday, beggar the consequences, then why go to class on Thursday? See my problem, but someone must be watching out over me, it took a week, finally, i figured it out. Just delete a few names, he didn't go to class, just switch it around a little, and Viola, character development for Doctor Morrison. Not sure what he and Jake have to talk about, but he only has one more day to do it. He's the only person from the Government under the stairs that is still down there, the rest have moved on to Chicago to study/poke at Mark Tavers.

Then there's the other half of Thursday still to be done, the ghost with the laptop, and Jake's last few moments alone.

That's my plan for this week, finishing Thursday. Until next time, laters

I was on my way home thinking about Chapter 17

The snow that i was so excited about this morning was already gone, but i still shook my boots as i got out of the car. It's proper to be ready for when it gets worse and worse, soon I'll be wading through snow, watching as it shifts through the streets like dirt from a shiv. Imagining how it will look when it passes under the carriages of the passing cars while realizing nothing looks familiar. Due to cuteness, not the cold, i don a pair of ear wraps and black gloves, already that routine is embraced. The harsh air has never been kind to my hands. It's still early winter where the cold offers comfort, instead of rushed bitterness, the hurry and get done pursuit, because it's just too cold. The cold where things die. This cold dies upon touching your medium jacket, and if you were clothed as i was, with gloves and sleeves, then i say, you'd probably didn't feel much of it at all. You could be, as i was, free to look at the gray sky, and wonder if this was perhaps England. Where the sky is permanently gray, and the sun is half covered, kept in check.

For a Monday, it was peaceful, almost serene. Words, conversation, flowed effortlessly from my lips. There was no lag, or slag, it was a Monday made for confidence, carrying me through the day.

When all that was over, the last line between duty and leisure about to be crossed, i noticed the building door was open, and everything was dark.

Pushing it all the way open, i stepped on the pieces of the lock that had been broken off. It was then i realized no one was in the building except me. All the other apartments were vacant, in the distance i heard dogs barking, but these were petty, more yips and yaps. My phone rang breaking the silence, and i scrambled to find a light switch as i heard feet fleeing down the stairs. I looked up, the light from my phone showing two dimly lit and dimly moral'd people. Later, i would learn they had a crow bar in their hands, but for now i was stuck, frozen. Panic time lasted only a brief second, but thinking back it was more like stupid time, because i was still stuck. The red and blue of their jackets struck me as they raced out, braver than i ever was, only now noticing how young they were.

Someone had tried breaking into my apartment, the conclusion no longer hesitating to cross my mind. The first time dialing an emergency number on my phone wasn't an accident, stupid blackberry, refreshingly talking to a stranger, eager to impress.

"The cops will be right over."

Then i checked around the building, ignoring official advice to stay put, but i was the girl who goes upstairs and the guy who checks the basement. All was there, and nothing more.

The cops wanted the landlord, and not me, a little crusted, a hot cop would have brightened my day. they wanted to leave, no owner no problem, we go. They might as well have used broken English to accent their intent. Seems that i caught the burglars in time, before they could go into other apartments, other doors, and since the only door they broke belonged to the landlord, it was him they wanted or they would just go.

So they left, and i wondered if i should be scared of the rest of the day or maybe tomorrow. But i never take these thoughts seriously, believing deep down every person thinks of peace. Naivety always has been my downfall, but that is a problem for another day, not even tomorrow.


This is all true, and i normally do not write this way.

But i wanted to try something different, a little bit of nature. I always love first snow, and wished it had snowed all day. So i could stand in the flurries, smoking a square, before it gets too cold, before the ice.

The Government Under the Stairs and the road to completion

Just checking in to drop off a quick passage, heroically, i would label this as my beginning of the end narrative part 2. Just fifty pages later, I can never make up my mind with how close to the end i am. I have a few hesitations before i can say this chapter (16) is good to go. Language, something is just not right, one character is fine, Rebecca Fastet was never meant to take a commanding lead in this chapter, just a brief reminder that she is still alive. I never expected that Jake's mother would have a bigger part after she was debriefed way back in chapter 4. But without her, the last chapter wouldn't be tantalizing as i hope.

My problem, i think, is the Downstairs President, how i identify him, and his lack of qualities. He doesn't strike me as anybody. This probably stems from my not having any planned use for him after this chapter. It's nice to star in one chapter, most get nothing, but I'm sure he will pop up again, just not until I'm done with this book. After chapter 16, the only time he pops up again is in a recon scene that I'm not even sure will be kept. This is a long chapter, with all the micro events that play out here, I'd think I'd be more comfortable with this character. I need to realize who he is, so far he's just generic secret underground boss guy, and i can do better than that.

I will leave you with the pot hole narrative, heralding chapter 16. Stressed out, I leave you this Friday night so i can hash this out, and nurse my crush on the new guy at work.

Remember friends, don't shit where you eat.

Peace

I agree, it’s abrupt, especially, considering the last time you saw me, I was walking out of Rain’s rented room in my old, albeit brief, friend Chad’s house. Maybe you were expecting something different, like a sign of a conclusion, but I regret to inform you it is time for another change of scenery, inconvenient, but necessary. There is one more cast of disreputable characters, then, and I promise, I will tell you what caused me to leave Southern, racing North destination unknown. We shall see if Chad’s vision has any bearing on reality, if Maddy and Box get there in time, and just when will Angel and Vasili arrive to haul my ass to hell. If it proves too much, then let me provide a heads up, even after the events in Southern, this story is just starting. At the time, all signs pointed to this being a trippy adventure, a few psychedelics here, being thrown through a building there, and street fights in the sky. I was wrong, later, months later, when I finally stood in the Office of the President of the United States, and I saw no amount of validation would ever keep me as sane as that man in the chair who lost his. I looked into the president’s eyes and knew I was fucked; this road would take me much farther then one world. It takes many people to establish control in this world, from the aggressors to the get along crowd more commonly mislabeled as sheep, and all the lives caught in between. It is my hope to put an end to the control that many strive to safeguard, the system, which many people unwillingly prop up in our daily attempt to make it through another day. Our daily grind feeds, and nourishes Leviathan.

At this point in our story, I must return you to that segment of antagonistic delight that I comically refer to as the government under the stairs. They were the ones behind the raid on my house as I was conveniently trying to slip away to make my train. Angel’s abode was also victim to their nefarious door busting ways. To make matters obscenely worse, my mother works for them. I’m not sure whether to laugh or cry, but they are big, bigger than any other government entity I have ever learned to despise. The IRS, bigger, and unbelievably more sinister, they have similar powers, but the downstairs people have farther reach, and use of the army. Thankfully, the IRS doesn’t have the military at their disposal, yet. Every federal police agency, pick any three letter, even them, can be reallocated and directed on a whim, to add in the wicked tasks that governments feel compelled to dabble in.

Of utmost distinction, the government under the stairs has supernatural levers. Imagine the pork handling, regulatory enforcing, or those confiscating gritty mitts with magical tools at their command. It is time to see how they plan to put their skills to use, and more importantly, how much do they know about what is going on in Southern, who are they keeping tabs on in Chicago, and it would be nice to see how my mother is doing.

I’ve got you my pretty, and your dog is long dead.

I love that line, and the bit that comes after it. Since i just finished cleaning up that section, i think it's in chapter 15 or so; it all blends together after awhile. I have such a hard time keeping track of the numbers, but that's a minor concern compared with getting done. But that section is done, i hope, I went back to the conversation chapters mostly out of fear, but actually realizing if i was gonna lay out some plot concrete, now would be the time to go from dribbles to thick lumpy clumps. Yeah, like, i know, weird huh.

The events that the title eludes is something that won't be expanded, or reconciled until much much later. Whatever happened to Dorothy Gale is something i have in store for somewhere towards the end of what would be the second book or somewhere in the third. Since i have the last few pages pretty concrete in my mind, it's a perfect setup, guessable, but that's my assumption.

My point being that this post will be all about the land of Oz. My favorite books to this day, and I'm always dismayed that people are really only familiar with the movie. Which makes my job that much harder. I think the average person doesn't know squat after the first book, which really sucks. No clue about the Nome King, Mombi, or the governmental makeup of Oz.

If you think about it, outside of one movie (return to Oz), the Oz mythos haven't really moved forward since that Ruth lady finished her series of Oz books. Even Wicked goes nowhere, and I'm being serious here. Wicked goes to the past, lashes out at continuity, and calls the Wicked Witch a lesbian. Please, now who in their right mind can see Dorothy and company insinuate that the Wicked Witch of the West is some sinister crotchety old lesbian a la lizzie Borden.

Lots of people actually, i haven't decided if this is a good or bad thing in regards to my own project yet, but hope springs....

I've always wanted to tell an Oz story, what happened next, and so on, but it wasn't ever only about that. To be honest, Oz barely makes up ten percent of the pages that will be the first book. Despite using Ozma as a major character, the main villain, if i can call him that, and the direction of the story, only use Oz as a vehicle and distraction. That sounds more trite than i intended, but Jake Fastet, as the story lunges toward its final coup, is intent on traveling in a complete earth based direction. In my mind, I'm trying to leave it open whether or not if he makes it to Oz at the end of the book. For awhile, i was going to have the ending be Jake landing a few yards shy of the Emerald city, a kind of TADA ending. But that is doubtful, well more than doubtful, but that would be telling. It's not even what you're thinking about, you're probably wondering who Ozma of Oz is, and that sucks.

At the end of the day, it's obvious, i hate Wicked. Not only does bathing in mile sound like a contrived detail, but Munchkins don't have gay anal sex. You can mix gay and Oz, but just not like that, it isn't too hard. Thinking about it, it makes perfect sense. If a gay person found their way to Oz, they wouldn't be having inappropriate relations with the munchkins. There's a story there, but i don't think I'm the type to write about gay things. If you know me, and have read this far, you're probably laughing right now, go ahead, yuck it up.

This has been a fun book, yes, it's more work when i clearly have enough, but i can look at it, and say I've done good. There's only so many times that i can go through everything with a fine comb making sure everything moves in the right direction. I wonder if there's too much in there. That's a complaint i look for when i find a reader, but nothing like that. Sometimes i rush, i can see it in the pages sometimes, makes editing last longer, but at least i catch it.

There's a scary story i heard as a child, it sums up my experience with this project perfectly. There's a house out there, and as you walk toward it you never get any closer to getting there. Even if you run, the house always seems to pull back, farther away from you. That damn house is the last chapter, but i've gone and cloned myself so either it's surrounded, or the guy in back is going to get trampled. Sounds like a good ending.

Be good all

A pile of notes

My desk is full of this ridiculous paper. It wont take me long to get through them, most are confined to a hundred page span. It's just like I'm behind on these things, but i cleared up some time and by January, i should be fine. I got real close to finding a new reader, something I'm currently searching for, but, La Rouse e La Damme, all was not meant to be (I have no idea what those words mean.) Hopefully, these next few weeks should be more flexible. On my dry days, I can do the final stabbings at the stuff that's written. The stuff that i got is good though, at least to my eyes. I'm really not having major trouble. With the heavy weed whacking done, my worries over pacing issues were just in my head.

Hello

You can now find me on FaceBook under RantorMusing@gmail.com.


Stories can be big or small, and I've always wanted to tell a big one.

A story about God, Jesus, America, and the Land of Oz. This is it.

Is there an American identity, if so, what is it? Does it follow the line between left and right, is there an up and down line, or do you have to believe in one of the various deities that continuously tear at our world with their human and spiritual manifestations. We're all familiar with Jesus, the first chosen messiah, but whatever ever happened to him. If the skeptical amongst us accept that the bible was written my man, then it's certain they don't know where he is holding up, waiting for the moment to return. To make matters worse, if one messiah didn't convince the world the benefits of peace and love, why not try again, and again, as many as it takes to make the world a better place. Maybe he's been doing this for centuries. It's hard to believe God stopped after the seventh day.

Ah government, some of us can live without religion, but none of us can live without the government. Or is it that we aren't allowed to live without Leviathan in our lives. One man, Jake Fastet, is going to test those boundaries, and push for all it's worth. Why, because he likes drugs, books, and being left alone. Leviathan has never liked any of those. A young man with just enough interest in politics to make him sick, is going to fall for the common fallacy that he can save the world from the many tangled grips of Big Brother.

Jake Fastet, who desires to escape his own self destruction in the city of Chicago by running away to college. The bad decisions keep multiplying. He left the city to get away from his gang banging friends, but sadly, they are unforgiving. Headed by Jake's best friend, Angel Del Mara, she is biding her time, waiting for a chance to stab Jake in the heart.

Vasili, it was only yesterday that he clawed out of his hole under the earth, and before the first breath of air was taken, he knew, this time it was his turn to try and change the world. Only two people stand in his way, Jake Fastet and Ozma of Oz. He only has a limited amount of time to strike before the forces of heaven realize he's out. He moves fast, subjugating the Land of Oz, a place to hide from God's eye. Only then does he turn his sights to Jake's little town, and with a willing accomplice in Angel del Mara, it should be easy to wipe out the threat Jake and Ozma pose in his mission to sever the tether that yokes the world in bondage.

Too bad Jake Fastet is an antisocial twit, who's more interested in conquering America than traveling to the Land of Oz and stopping Vasili.

Just a few random excerpts

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Reserve

Jake Fastet, Political Science major on the run

Jake Fastet, pronounced fast, isn't comfortable with labels. Asked to define himself, he would look at you, eyes trembling with social anxiety, but an answer, no. There is no answer because Jake is unable to accept any label or common political identifier, still bearing scars from the last one; when in a fit of piqued youth, he accepted the notion that he was a conservative. His personal mental confusion continues ever onward in hopes of once again reaching that heavenly plateau that we call sanity.

Our hero wasn't always caught up in mystical adventures, and magical lands, he was simply a guy hard at work, and partying hard. Regrettably, he discovered it wasn't enough to work, take a class or two, party every night, and expect to get somewhere in life. He had to go away, and make something of himself.

If these normal banalities weren't enough to put a hustle in Jake's step, there was Angel Del Mara. Having crossed his former best friend, and her posse of inebriated hitmen, Jake is even more determined to get out of Chicago, and hide in a nice quiet college town.

Unfortunately for Jake, college towns aren't known for peace and quiet, but it's the thought that counts. Against his best intention, or because of them, Jake earns the notoriety that comes with unconventional political thought. Before the crowds can pitchfork him to death, he may discover there is more going on than his pathetic attempt at life. There is Vasili and Ozma, both finding themselves in the vicinity of Jake's small college town, and racing to beat the other to him.

Jake's parents and the government under the stairs

History tells us a lot about the rise and fall of nations, but so can B movies.

If nothing else, the government under the stairs typifies random B movie fare.

Rebbecca and Frank Fastet work for the government, but not your typical federal/state/municipal/other agency. They report directly to Washington D.C., several miles below the surface. Underneath D.C., if the onerous presence of overzealous laws, regulations, tax codes, and bullying civil servants, and yes i mean cops, wasn't enough, then you should see what they have downstairs.

How many times have you've seen a movie, or read a book, where some monstrous creation, such as zombies, comes slouching out of some government lab, and heralds the end of the world. Too many times to count, it's a good bet that if the end of the world is nigh, or zombies are walking out of what is suppose to be an abandoned building, then it is safe to say that we've reached the point in our lives where government has too much power.

Their mission statement seems harmless enough, to protect the world from supernatural threats, but, by now, we should know where this leads. If you were wondering why taxes in the U.S. are just as expensive as the taxes politicians bitch about in Europe, then look no further. Two governments equals one European socialist government.

Rebbecca and Frank's job was simple, monitor and report about the life and abilities of their prime subject, Jake Fastet. Unfortunately for them, Jake Fastet will prove to be more trouble than any child is worth. Assuming the role of Jake Fastet's parents, they keep him under observation, waiting for tell tale signs that he may become active, and with mauraderous gang bangers breaking down their door, that may happen sooner than they think.

Angel Del Mara The Red Queen

Angel started out as the good girl in life, but it didn't pay off. And it never would.

Seeing her brother make money that she could only dream of, she followed in his footsteps into one of the crummiest gangs in Chicago. It wasn't long before her keen intellect, and ruthless determination propelled her to the top of the block. Her brother gone, she was the only one who could lead the gang, and plunge any who crossed her into a shallow grave in the nearby forest preserve.

Hiding dead bodies in forest preserves is never enough, and Angel soon felt that pang of needing a friend. She found one in Jake Fastet, a partnership that would make petty crime stories envious, but it couldn't last. Two paranoids could never get along, it was only a matter of time before it all came crashing down.

And it did, thanks to Jake, his big brother implementing parents, and Lord Vasili. It turns out Jake's folks were more than just parents, they were Leviathan's agents, and recorded everything Jake did and said. So when Angel found out that Jake's parents had her under surveillance, what was she supposed to do. Take it out on Jake of course.

Her first attempt, usually enough, fell short due to the intervention of several gun touting federal agents, and Lord Vasili. Because of her hatred for Jake, she will lose everything, her home, organization, and whisked away by Vasili to a land no one ever expected to really believe in.

Lord Vasili

What happens when you piss off daddy?

Why you get buried in the center of the Earth.

Almost two thousand years Vasili has been imprisoned deep within the Earth's soil. It took a thousand years of beating, but Vasili has finally broken the walls of his cell, long forgotten on heaven and earth, he travels once more to the surface not surprised by the many changes upon the world, because there are more in store.

Vasili is motivated by justice, and self determination, both having been taken from him. His return to Earth signals for the first time his ability to act in his own interest. Ironically, Vasili and Jake share common intentions, they both wish to see a world free from control, except Vasili is more concerned with spiritual harbingers that beat back the forces of progress, where Jake is predominately concerned with government oppression. There is one more problem for Vasili on his suicide run.

God has chosen another Messiah.

I finally picked a death

This is around page 350; basically, it will lead to foreshadow the end. A bone toss to fans of classic B horror movies, my depiction of death will surely please fans of Phantasm, and the person he comes to collect will be shocked to learn death looks like Angus Scrimm.

I had a very hard time picturing how my death would look and act, there are a lot of different humanized deaths out there, from pretty girls to children, and the typical scythe carrying variety. I liked the idea of people being scared because they think that guy guy from Phantasm is real as compared to, Oh Shit I'm dead don't take me. It also borders more closely with our conventional image of death. As you will see, my death is part of the local community during the daytime, and only goes about his supernatural duties at night. There will be a change in appearance as the chapter starts out from death's POV. The chapter expanded widely from what i first had in mind. Which was resolving the death of a minor character, and introducing death to the main story, establishing a bigger scope than most readers may so far assume. The end of this chapter leads into the Last Three Days section. I will be talking more about these last chapters next time. Hopefully, by now you've realized all my posts are backwards. (wink)