Thursday, June 26, 2003

Glass half full

I know swore off talking about current events on this blog, but you have to admit that the Supreme Court overturning the Texas sodomy law is absolutely glorious for two reasons. 1) It was an incredibly stupid law to begin with and 2) The ruling just makes all the homophobe talking heads and pundits out there just freak out, thus making them easier to spot as the pitiful, hateful, repressed dorks they really are.

I'm sure Mark Morford will have oodles to say about this tomorrow. Hit the link to the right to dose yourself on Mark's ever-kinetic and life-loving wordplay when the sun rises in your part of the globe tomorrow.

And, damn, but isn't it just a bit of crazy-karma-cool that the ruling came down mere days before many Gay Pride festivals are set to take place around the nation. Personally, I'm just your average straight breeder boi from the burbs, but there's such a sense of supernova joy about this one, an inkling that we finally may be turning a corner after three years of BushAmerica and 20+ years of religious right fearmongering and syndicated radio-based hatred and instead we're getting to accept one another without worrying about what they do in the privacy of their bedrooms.

Honestly, people...we have more important things to worry about. As for the shrieking "What shall we tell the children?" crowd, tell them this...it's all about love, honesty and respect. Once we nail those very basic concepts, life on our tiny planet will get a lot easier.

Mom

She's coming in tomorrow. Little updating will be done. Not that much writing will happen. Go outside and get some fresh air.

Speaking of writing

Came home last night after auditioning for this volunteer program to read books and newspaper articles to the blind (another entry altogether, let me tell you) to find my loving wife scrubbing the house clean. After a quick dinner of veggieburger and fries from the local non-global chain Burgertorium, we wrestled with dust cloths and vacuuming machines until the front room, guest bath, guest bedroom and entrance way was clean. Tonight, groceries and the rest of Chez Ryan will be rendered spotless.

But last night, before I got home, I stopped off at the aforementioned burger place, and got my order taken by maybe the funkiest cashier grrl in the world. Right there, I came up with another character for the novel, a very minor character that Patrick, one of the main characters, meets when he has to go to the grocery store for some reason I haven't honestly figured out yet.

On my receipt, I began jotting notes.

"Designer mods, acceptable level for corporate environments. Like flair in 'Office Space' or tattoos on today's employees as long as not visible through work shirt or extends below short/sleeve line. Sea green hair - straight - no visible roots, Roman nose, bee stung lips, cropped eyes to resemble Asian, tattooed-in black eyeliner, caucasian-basic face with bleached out skin, elf ears (boss probably allows this due to Tolkien/Spock fan). Mods approved by corporate head office. Perhaps differences allowed in acceptable situations. Body design is part of corporate branding, an expansion of the pretty young things that sell you clothes at GAP. Bosses hand out MDMA homebrews to employees to keep them loving and friendly smile-smile to the customers."


Song of the Day: "Layoun Lokdhor," by Toires.

Wednesday, June 25, 2003

Self loathing and other cheap hobbies

You wanna know what's worse than getting a verbal smackdown by your superiors about your ability to do your job? Getting a compliment that's meant for someone else.

Of course, I hate my job, and it hates me. But in the end, I get upset with myself that I have to have a copy editor amble over to me to go over such a rookie thing as not pruning out old data. It's embarrassing, it's kinda petty, and I wish it didn't bother me so. Personally, I thought I handled her comments with a cool Zen grace, absorbing the criticism without kissing the razors that were sandwiched in her words. But it got to me. I grumble and wish I was, I dunno, better and didn't make as many errors. Consoling yourself with the fact that most of the time you're clean and perfect isn't going to help because in cases like this, defending yourself reduces you to a whiny shell of a peon whose feeble protests won't stop your accuser from rolling right over you.

I hate my job because it's a million tiny petty things that you have to pay attention to, and it's draining all the energy that I reserve for more important life-affirming endeavors. Herding cats like this would be more fun if you loved the cats you were herding. To paraphrase the license plate holder, I'd rather be fretting over my creativity.

Very little writing done last night because my computer kept freaking out on me. I think it knows about my newfound lust for Apple's new G5, although I should just stick to the laptop. In all honesty, our computer is about three years old, and I imagine it is just a junkyard of fragmented files dragging down performance. If I had my way, I'd get my wife a nice compact Mac for her writing/music listening thing and I'd get my bad self a Powerbook. After all, all I need is a laptop. And proper spelling and grammar skills. And an attention span longer than a hummingbird. And about six extra hours in the day.

Song of the Day: "Teardrop," by Massive Attack.

P.S. Would the co-worker with the "Ride of the Valkyries" ring tone on his/her cell phone, the one that goes off every three minutes and is left to ring its whiny-tinny ring for a good 30 seconds at a spell, please flush the phone down the nearest toilet? Thanks. You're not Robert Duvall and this isn't "Apocalypse Now."

Tuesday, June 24, 2003

And the vowels consoled the consonants

Body count: Something like 1750 words.

I couldn't do the count last night. I mean, I did write a whole bunch, but the daily toll looked like the transcripts of a weasely liar under police interrgation, changing his story every few seconds to fend off his accusing questioners. Breaks in conversations, logical jumps, switching scenes. All very suspicious, if you ask me.

But it's not like headway wasn't made. Got some interesting hooks in place. And it's now Leonera as the name of one of the secondary characters. Flamea is her performing names. A lot of the underclass characters have second or third names for different reasons. Some criminal, some more noble and ambitious. Leonera/Flamea will play a major part in Rayelle's life, perhaps the most important rescuing Rayelle from certain doom in an early flashback and getting her into The Circus, Seattle's pre-eminent tent city.

I love Leonera. I think she'll make a wonderful figure, if I play her right.

With regard to the rest of my life, I'm going to be entering a phase of two weeks where my life won't be...well...mine. My mom's coming into town on Friday, and my work schedule has been bumped up a day for the July 4th holiday. All this means I have less than three days to do five days of work.

Cue "Run Lola Run" soundtrack and far too much Diet Pepsi.

Song of the Day: "Rock and a Hard Place," by Supreme Beings of Leisure. Way, way cool in a funky, "James Bond opening song" sort of vibe. You know, there ought to be an album of musicians doing either covers of James Bond theme songs or something inspired by Bond movies, because you know who would buy it? Yep, me!

Yet, something in the back of my mind tells me there was a Bond tribute album back in the mists of the 90s. I swear I heard about it, with Bjork of all people doing "Diamonds are Forever."

Yow. That would be playing on my iTunes at home until my hard drive melted.

Speaking of hard drives and iTunes, Apple announced their new line of G5 computers coming in late summer. I will say this about Apple, they make computers that are outrageous expensive (or completely dead-end like the Cube), but they make them so crazycool that I just...have...to...have...one. It'll be a waste, since I'll just be doing writing and music on it, but man would it look so luscious, the sleepy chrome finish on a digital tower of Babel, as silent as an angel, as gorgeous as any object of lust should be.

Monday, June 23, 2003

Bits and Pieces, Fits and Starts

Body count: 1410 words.

It's not all written in a linear order, more like a paragraph here and a line of dialogue there. Equal parts joyous and terrifying. Deep in the text, I can see passages knitting themselves together, scenes growing and shrinking, the corners of this literary Polaroid coming into sharp resolution from the putty-gray fog that once covered the landscape.

Have a character coming to life named Flamrea. I know, I'm not keen on the name either. Thinking Leonera or something less showy and more gender-blending. But hey, forward motion made.

I'm working on things from a "Rayelle" standpoint. She's the gutter rat main character that starts out screaming to rock bottom. I'm thinking I should be working on "Patrick" more, the other main character who has it all, and then has to run for his life.

Much work ahead. I'm not too keen on the piecemeal approach, but it's getting words on to the ethereal screen. Went out looking for a Superdisk this weekend to store all my notes on. A Superdisk, for you non-techies out there, was this storage innovation that, although it looks like a normal 3.5" disk, had enough space for something like 80 3.5" disks. Of course, they don't make them (or at least have them in stock) anymore, with the advent of burnable CD drives in your average new PC. Still, I'm stuck a couple notches down the computer evolutionary scale, so I'm riding with the hip-to-be-square diskettes, and not the space-age shiny-shiny compact disks.

I know, not exactly a war refugee's tale, but I need something sturdy to place my notes on. In the end, a CD-R would be the best, most durable medium, but I'm kinda tapped for cash at this moment.

Which reminds me.

I owe the charity of my choice $20. Bought the new Supreme Beings of Leisure over the weekend.

Song of the Day: "Scent of the Day," by Dragon Chai.