Category: General

The blog watch for Erraberra has been reset to zero.

We now resume regular blogging.

Erraberra has gone 8 days since her last new post.

In checking my timesheet today, I discovered that I have already saved up enough paid vacation time to cover my Christmas trip to Cancún – which means I’ll still have some left over when I get back. Or I can take a day off between now and then.

Also, I remembered that I get next Monday off for Veterans Day! Yay! A day off is always a good thing. I’ll spend mine… um… writing.

Last night I dreamed. I was walking down the sidewalk, a familiar sidewalk, maybe in my neighborhood or near where I work. Half-familiar.

I looked down and, laying on the cement, I saw a turd. A human turd. Actually, technically, two of them, or one that had been broken in half.

I stepped over it, bouncing a little bit on my feet because I saw it almost too late to avoid it…

…and I bounced much higher than I expected. In fact, I felt lighter than air. When I touched down again, I pushed harder, and I launched myself into space.

I was flying!

I looked down and I saw the buildings and sidewalk where I had just been bound to the earth. I flew away and I saw a green field and a large stand of trees. I enjoyed the feeling of freedom.

I was flying at a right angle to a road, a winding country road, a single stripe of asphalt that followed the rolling hills. I turned to follow the road, staying above the power lines. A lot of times, when I dream of flying, I get tangled in the power lines. Not this time. I was above them.

It grew dark. I looked back along the road and I saw a car, a big black American sedan from an earlier era. A dark shape through the tinted windshield leaned out the side window, and pointed at me.

He was pointing a gun, a handgun. At me.

I started twisting and diving and changing directions, to avoid his shot. I knew that there was no way he could hit me as long as I could get to cover. Not with his handgun. Not while he was driving.

I looked back and he’d pulled over. Exited the vehicle. And he reached inside and pulled out a large rifle with a scope on it. The scope glowed bright in the darkness.

With the scope, he might be able to hit me. I started to get scared. I turned and dove and rose high. I was pushing myself to my limit.

I looked back. He fired. I could see the white-hot bullet tracing a trajectory towards me. I pulled back, stopping in mid-air briefly, then changing direction once again.

The bullet sped past me.

I flew as fast as I could go towards the woods. I knew I could lose this guy in the trees, if only I could reach it in time.

He fired several more shots. I could see their path through the sky. He was getting better aim, guessing my pattern, getting used to how I was choosing to escape. I poured on the speed, dove in among the branches, stopped, hid behind a thick trunk, looked back.

He was strolling through the woods, rifle in hand. He was close.

…and then I woke up. I’d like to think I escaped.

So this morning, on my way to work, I was walking along the sidewalk, the familiar sidewalk, and I looked down, and I saw a turd. Just like my dream.

Just like my dream, I skipped over it. Bounced a little.

And I stayed stuck on the ground.

Gravity always wins.

If you notice things looking slightly different around here, or you didn’t notice until just now and you thought you might be going crazy, you were right, and you were not crazy. Not about how my site looks, anyway. You might be crazy in other ways; I just don’t know.

I’m tweaking the CSS for the site to make it a little more readable. Nothing drastic. Just small changes here and there.

If I break something, let me know in the comments for this thread or send me an email. If you do, please let me know which kind of computer you’re running, and what browser you’re using, and send me as much detail as you can on versions and settings. And send me your credit card numbers.

OK, maybe not that last one. But that would be fun, wouldn’t it? For me, I mean.

Sure, sure.

All is well. All will be well.

I just want (hope, desire, hunger, lust) for all to be better.

“Blame it on the television, blame it on the company
don’t blame it on the fundamental fact that no one owes you somethin’

“I’ve come about my share, I only want what’s fair.
Anyone who knows me knows that I’m not greedy.
Like everybody else, I want to pay my dues.
I only want someone to tell me who to make the check out to.”

Ladies and gentlemen, the incomparable Sean Nelson. From “Pike St./Park Slope” on “King James Version”.

Why is it that stories in real life don’t often turn out right?

Fictional stories have rhythms and hooks and beginnings, middles and ends. They have protagonists, antagonists, major and minor characters. Sure, they have red herrings and wild goose chases, but eventually things get back on track and reach a satisfactory conclusion.

Stories in real life? No. Let’s just say I’m still waiting for mine.

The book is tentatively titled “Campaign” and it’s proceeding apace. I’m about where I thought I’d be, and basically caught up. I hope to pull ahead this weekend.

The last four words I wrote, which will likely make no sense out of context, are:

“An elephant named heroin.”

Those bring me to 4,864 words.

Back to writing.

While I’m working on writing a 50,000 word novel in November (I’m currently at 3,046 words and counting), here’s some cool stuff from around the internet from the past week. Did you see these?

• Darth Vader in love.
  [youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8NdSL2NUoWk&rel=1&border=0]
  …via Blogtown, PDX.
• Skeletal Looney Tunes… from a Hollywood Day of the Dead display.
• Production has wrapped on the 10th film adaptation of a Philip Dick story. In this case it’s “Radio Free Albemuth”, one of the few I have not read. Time for a trip to Powell’s…
• Who says Hummers are environmentally unfriendly? Sure, the stock ones are. But they can be modified… In spite of what Detroit says. And how about a biodiesel-burnin’ muscle car? 800 horsepower, 25 MPG, runs on vegetable oil? Sign me up, please!
• Cats shouldn’t be dressed up. But it’s so cute when they are.

Sorry… that’s all I got this week. Back to writing. Is “comradeship” a word? Google says yes, but it just doesn’t sit right with me…