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.
Monday, December 7, 2009
Friday, December 4, 2009
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.
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.
Saturday, November 21, 2009
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
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
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
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.
Friday, August 21, 2009
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.
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.
Saturday, June 6, 2009
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