A week in pictures

Back and forth to Georgia. Not much to say, but had time to think.

Sunrise, after a night of working. Here I’m heading off to bed (2 hour drive later).

Sunset, heading to work.

Getting off work, the temperature has dropped. Finally, it feels like fall!

Here is a lovely shot of the sun going down, or coming up. Either way, that’s my view.

And this makes me want to pack up, and travel the highways and byways of the US. For a while now, I’ve wanted to drive backroads cross country, probably taking Route 66 from Chicago and heading out west. Maybe in 2018!

On the weather

It’s wet outside. Rainy and dark. Thunder crashes shake the hotel that I’m staying in, and the lightning illuminates the cloudy night sky. Looking out the window on this third story hotel room, I see into the back parking lot and the hotel that is somehow either behind us or beside us. I’ve no idea which way these hotels are oriented in comparison to each other.

The parking lot is wet, and there are few cars down there. Street lamps are shining around the lot, wet metal on the cars reflecting up light.

A thunder-clap shakes the window I’m looking through, and I take a step back into the room. I decide to write a bit, before it gets time to go to work.

Moving Forward

I burned a few bridges
As I walked these paths
Made forward the only
Way to go

Where I’ll end up
And who I’ll be
I guess that
God only knows

I’ve seen cities in Europe
And rode ships on the sea
Found love in the arms
Of another

I gave up on dreams
As new dreams took shape
And went off
To search for wonder

I went off to school
And I had me a time
I learned more than
I needed to know

There are joys and sorrows
In what we call life
And I savored
The highs and the lows

The journey’s begun
There’s no turning back
There are mistakes
I’d rather undo

Quite a few dreams
I wish I had held
A bit longer
Then I held onto

I’ve hiked through the mountains
Surfed in the oceans
Found myself while
Searching for more

And now what I see
Is only before me
As I step outside
My door

#takeaknee

Wow. What a week. It seems that every week for the past few months has left that feeling echoing throughout the populous.

  • North Korean bombs.
  • Healthcare.
  • Puerto Rico’s plight.
  • Increased tensions with Russia.
  • Burmese human rights violations.
  • Mexico City damages.
  • Church shooting in Nashville.
  • And the NFL facing off with President Donald trump.

I want to devote this to free speech. To using our platforms to speak up against what we consider to be societal wrongs. If the president of the United States can say just about anything he wants on his twitter, rant and rave, insult, etc, where does he find the moral high ground to verbally attack peaceful protestors with legitimate complaints?

You may disagree with NFL players sitting or kneeling during the National Anthem. But to say they are “disrespecting” America by not standing is a short-sighted indictment of them. Rather, you’re saying that they’re disagreeing with the way the you think that they should respect America.

But what the hell is America, if it is not the constant growth and deliberation of ideas and criticisms that allow us as a nation to move forward? We grew out of our distaste with how the elite were treating us. Why is it suddenly so distasteful to criticize how the elite are treating us?

“U.S. historians and political scientists often classify dissident movements along a spectrum from left to right, with the left side encompassing Communists, socialists, and others committed to greater economic and political equality, often achieved through government intervention, and the right side including those who embrace capitalist economics with little or no state regulation.”

Dissidence is an element of first amendment-protected free speech, and is often a symptom of more pervasive odious behavior occurring in the nation. Black men and women in America are suffering injustices in greater percentages than their white brothers and sisters. The reasons for this are varied and range across the spectrum, but black unarmed men being shot by police had been a rallying point for the energy to protest.

Is there a best way to protest? I don’t know. But the shear fact that we’re talking about it at the national level is a clear indicator that something was done right. Again, you may disagree with the way the protest was conducted, or with the facts of what is being protested, or both. But we are talking about it.

The thing is, when President Trump tweets, “If NFL fans refuse to go to games until players stop disrespecting our Flag & Country, you will see change take place fast. Fire or suspend!”, I’ll agree with the first part. If you feel offended by players who taking a knee, you don’t have to watch the game. You don’t have to buy tickets, or merchandise. That’s your choice. And then the onus is on owners and managers, and marketers and sponsors to decide how they want to respond. But telling a private citizen to fire someone for exercising their Constitutional right to expression is a slap in the face of all who have fought for those rights.

It’s also possible that those stakeholders, those managers and owners, are fed up, and they’ll double down, much like what happened on last Sunday. Some owners taking to the field with their players. They all think something isn’t right in this country. And they’re not alone. The ones who disagree, they think something is wrong as well.

Why is this such a hot topic? Is it that football is the American pastime? Is it that an elected official is going against public citizens? Is it a race issue, an economic issue, and a first amendment issue?

Yes. Yes to all of it. And there are only few answers to the many questions. But I believe that a man who attacks his detractors rather than listening to them fails to learn anything from them, even when they have valid points to make.

Perhaps this video gets the message across:

8 Rules from Vonnegut

Started on some fiction based on a creepy dream I had. This was sitting nearby, and has come in handy.

Eight rules for writing fiction:

1. Use the time of a total stranger in such a way that he or she will not feel the time was wasted.

2. Give the reader at least one character he or she can root for.

3. Every character should want something, even if it is only a glass of water.

4. Every sentence must do one of two things – reveal character or advance the action.

5. Start as close to the end as possible.

6. Be a sadist. Now matter how sweet and innocent your leading characters, make awful things happen to them – in order that the reader may see what they are made of.

7. Write to please just one person. If you open a window and make love to the world, so to speak, your story will get pneumonia.

8. Give your readers as much information as possible as soon as possible. To heck with suspense. Readers should have such complete understanding of what is going on, where and why, that they could finish the story themselves, should cockroaches eat the last few pages.

Vonnegut, Kurt Vonnegut, Bagombo Snuff Box: Uncollected Short Fiction (New York: G.P. Putnam’s Sons 1999), 9-10.

The F-Word

I was thinking the other day. Fuck isn’t an unpleasant word. The soft eff-sound stays forward in the mouth, not like finger or finch. The crisp kah-sound at the end could obtain a harshness, but it so rarely does. It’s a brief, multi-faceted, one-syllable word that can range from playful to surprised, angry to erotic.

It gets a bad rap, I guess owing to its connection to sexuality. But maybe it’s a word that just needs further research, and a bit of love.

Eye of the storm

In the eye of a hurricane there is quiet for just a moment, a yellow sky. 

Hurricane, from Hamilton the Musical

When it’s time to prepare for a possible hurricane strike, it’s inevitably nearly too late. Irma was not much of a factor on the East coast of Florida, and honestly, I never thought she would be, though I couldn’t tell you why. I had hoped she would turn out to sea, rather than swipe the Gulf Coast, but here on the Atlantic side of Central Florida it was mostly rain and light winds. And, as with all natural disasters, concern and rushing about.

Hurricanes give us the feeling that humanity is no closer to mastering nature than early man was, coming out of the caves. The raw destructive power of storm systems can undo decades of civil engineering and community building. Flooding, wind damage, downed power lines and exploding transformers. And nature will keep coming.

As I sit in relative darkness, writing by some candlelight on an iPad with attached keypad, I wonder at early civilizations. Save the sound of nearby gas-fueld generators, this powerless state is something that would be typical merely a century ago. Quiet. Alone with thoughts, the sounds of nature (sans fuel-combustion), and seemingly few concerns. 

The television is off. It must be, with no power. I listened to some public radio via the phone, but not much. And I sit here, thinking. Considering what tomorrow will bring, when the power is sure to be reinstated. 

Just play

Why have I taken to writing every month that first post about the books I bought and the books I read? It’s a blatant copying of the format Nick Hornby created for his column in The Believer, and I can’t imagine that I could do it better than him. Yet, I still write the post.

the simple fact is, I do it because I’m searching for my voice. It’s a voice that gets stuck inside me. And when it finally comes out as I hear it, I’ll be doing (what I hope will be) wholly original work. Until then, I play. I experiment.

Neil Gaiman has talked extensively on writing, both about his process and on the craft as a whole. One piece of advice that I find particularly pertinent to this post is a response to a Tumblr question: “…try things out. Enjoy yourself. If you find a writer you like, write like them. And then sound like something else. Write anything. Don’t worry about it being good or read by other people. Just play, and play a lot.”

“Nobody tells this to people who are beginners, I wish someone told me. All of us who do creative work, we get into it because we have good taste. But there is this gap. For the first couple years you make stuff, it’s just not that good. It’s trying to be good, it has potential, but it’s not. But your taste, the thing that got you into the game, is still killer. And your taste is why your work disappoints you. A lot of people never get past this phase, they quit. Most people I know who do interesting, creative work went through years of this. We know our work doesn’t have this special thing that we want it to have. We all go through this. And if you are just starting out or you are still in this phase, you gotta know its normal and the most important thing you can do is do a lot of work. Put yourself on a deadline so that every week you will finish one story. It is only by going through a volume of work that you will close that gap, and your work will be as good as your ambitions. And I took longer to figure out how to do this than anyone I’ve ever met. It’s gonna take awhile. It’s normal to take awhile. You’ve just gotta fight your way through.”

-Ira Glass

A Golden Apple

I’ve reached it, as high as I could,
A Golden Apple, far in the branches.
(They will get that wrong.
No matter. In my mouth
The meat is the same. Juices.)
A juice. Sweeter than any in the Garden.
I open my eyes, closed involuntarily.
Ecstasy in that taste.
Not realizing, I chew my lower lip,
Longing for more.

The air is crisp and I nearly shiver,
Water molecules licking my skin.
Another bite.

My tongue rolls over my lip, 
Capturing some escaping nectar.
Laughing, hugging myself, I spin where I stand.
My heart races and an unusual feeling
Rises in my stomach. A flutter.
I shudder,
Knowing my need.

My husband lies in the grass.
He is naked.
My stomach flutters again, and it is good.
I offer him my apple.
He takes it. He eats it.
I do not have to offer him
     What else I have.
     He takes it.
It is good.

A most important moment

The vast majority of us will never be president. We’ll never be movie stars. We’ll never run Fortune 500 companies, or invent technological advances so profound that they shape human achievement for decades to come.

The vast majority will not become published authors, or produced playwrights. Our canvases or art installations will not be shown in national galleries or private collections. Our musical compositions will not be performed by symphonic orchestras, or sung by operatic professionals.

The truth is, these heights to which we all, at some level, aspire to will be far beyond our reach. However, at one point we’ll look back and see the most important moment in our life. And though it may not hold the immense gravitas of moments in the public arena viewed by millions, it will have been a defining moment in our lives. One that we’ll (hopefully) look back on proudly.

What is that most important moment? Has it happened yet? You already have one, though something more important may come along. Are you proud of that moment? Or would you rather something else takes its place?

We are the heroes of our own stories. Make damn sure the climax is rewarding.