ghosts are waiting for you
We finally have Internet again. My computer is at Dad's being fixed and as soon as I get it back I'm going to get a new antenna for the wireless card so Mitch and I will finally have a computer of our own with Internet.
Things have been going... not smoothly, but pretty well, all things considered. The situation isn't exactly great right now, but we're resourceful people and we're finding ways to get by without suffering too much a loss in our already stripped-down lifestyle. We can still eat relatively good food and drive the cars... not like there's much choice about the cars. Adam and I could maybe function within the Vacaville bus system, maybe, even though it sucks so much, but Mom never could. She's just not healthy enough anymore. She's 63 and can barely get out of bed some days.
I'm going to have to ask my father for money. The thought has been very stressful for a long time, but I think I've finally gotten myself into the right mindset and state of equilibrium to attempt it. Now I just have to decide if I do it in person or not.
I've been doing a lot better lately, as far as metaprogramming and my neuropsychologic health are concerned. It's still far from perfect, but I've at least finally managed to firmly convince myself that I can, in fact, program myself, that it just takes knowing how to do it and a lot of time and effort, at least right now.
Manitou and Mitch both had birthdays this week. Manitou turned 1 year on Friday October 10th, and Mitch turned 22 on the 12th. I bought him a nice big half-sheet cake from Safeway. It's chocolate, has five big roses, fifteen rosebuds, and chocolate buttercream frosting. I bought a couple tubes of icing and added "Happy B'Day Mitch!!" Plus some spirals and three snakes, slithering subtly amongst the roses. Amazingly tasty. jayyy and erauqs both came over, Nick/erauqs bringing his girlfriend. There were a couple of things I wish hadn't happened, like my brother being a douche to Jay and Nick and his girlfriend getting treated terribly at the sushi place Mitch and I always go to. (Jay paid for both Mitch and I even though it was supposed to just be his present to Mitch and I had gone prepared to cover myself. He's so sweet.) Usually it's a really good place so I was very surprised and unhappy that the service was so bad it qualified as rude. They didn't leave a tip at all, and these are people who usually tip 25%. I didn't blame them at all.
Otherwise it went well and Mitch and I both had a good day yesterday. I worked very hard to make sure he'd have a nice, happy birthday. After sushi we came home. Mitch made everyone sing him the birthday song. Then we cut the cake and put on Monty Python. I adjourned to the couch to let Mitch have some time with people other than me while they sat further back on chairs, talking as well as watching. Listening to him enjoy himself made me happy.
My only regret is that after our friends left, we went to bed and fell asleep rather than making love. We thought we'd be able to in the morning, but we got distracted by needing to find a letter with Mitch's ticket information in it and we never got to. I really regret that. I wanted to renew my neurophysical connection with him before he left. Oh well. He'll be home soon enough.
I hope to still move to Oregon, but that's been delayed another couple weeks because of Mitch having to go to North Dakota and Mom's divorce from Julian plus some stuff I have to do. Sigh.
I really need to send them our IDs, and now Mitch is in ND. I have to ask him to make a copy of his ID and mail it from there. Hopefully he'll read this.
I finally, finally, finally made myself get started for real on my first novel. In the end, as much as I like The Ghost Tree trilogy idea, it's a bit too in-depth to stand as the first Paradise City book(s). I need something to introduce the world a little better that isn't so intricate in plot and doesn't need so many characters and strange ideas. So I decided to create a Paradise City story inspired heavily by serial killer Carl Panzram. Not only is he the single least repentant serial killer ever, but he's got some of the best quotes, too. When asked, before being hanged by the State, if he had any last words, he said this: "Yes: Hurry up already, you Hoosier bastard! I could've hung ten men while you're dicking around up there!"
He was a fascinating character, much less "generic" than many serial killers. Because he was able to write an autobiography in prison and was not the usual chronic liar-type sociopath (most of his claims were validated) a good deal is known about him and his life, although obviously many details are beyond confirmation. I'm going to write it assuming that the autobiography is mostly accurate, changing only the details needed to make it the Stained World rather than our world. I'm also changing the later parts of the story, embellishing it for the sake of plot and creativity so the story is something more than just a fictional re-hash of his autobiography.
In real life, while on Death Row, a prison guard discovered that the other guards were secretly torturing inmates under the guise of "discipline" and "interrogation", and specifically witnessed Panzram's victimization. After getting a moment alone, the guard slipped Panzram a dollar (a fair amount of money during the Depression, especially in prison.) While Panzram at first thought it was just another form of torture, a prelude to some trick, when nothing happened he slowly realized that the guard honestly meant the gesture. Having never had anyone do anything nice for him spontaneously in his life, Panzram was oddly touched, and they slowly became friendly with each other, relatively speaking. Henry, the guard, encouraged Panzram to write his autobiography, even brought him the paper and pencils, pens, and such he needed to do it.
Here's a link to the summary I wrote and to the first chapter, if anyone's interested.
http://storywrite.com/story/212552
http://storywrite.com/story/212044
I've been doing a lot of writing since we got the computer back. It's been pent up inside all during the Dry Spell (as I think of it) and now all of it is rushing out. I'm hoping to use that momentum to get a good ways into the story so I'll have an easier time continuing once the rush eases off and I return to a more normal creative level.
It'll be a lot easier than my other novel ideas to write, too, since a large part of the story has essentially already been brainstormed. I just have to organize it, fill in the details, and write it down.
If you want to look at what I've been writing recently, it's all either at StoryWrite or AllPoetry.
http://storywrite.com/intoothandclaw
http://allpoetry.com/intoothandclaw
I'd love to write more, since it's been so long, but it's already 3 AM. I need to call up Falling and send him to Mitch like I said I would. I miss him; I promised I'd send a spirit to watch over him for me, and that I'd be with him even though I wasn't with him. So I have to go do that. Plus I need to wake up tomorrow and get things done. I've only got 1,500 words on the novel so far and I have to get hustling on that. I'm thinking of waiting another couple weeks and then making it a NaNoWriMo project in order to give myself momentum, but I can just as easily write for it now, then start it again in November as a rewrite. It'll need at least one more than likely anyway. Nothing is perfect on the first go and I improve all the time, so it makes sense.
I found a snail-mail letter written by my ex-girlfriend to me four years ago. It was so unexpected that it made me cry. I've moved on in most ways, but there's a hole in my heart that will always have the name "Cynical Jester" on it. The 'CJ' scar on my upper left arm still hasn't faded. I wonder if it ever will.
I wish we had parted on better terms. We might have been able to stay friends, at least.
Sigh.
I can't believe how lucky I am. I've been given the best thing I've ever been given twice now. I can't imagine I'll be so fortunate a third time. I treasure you so much, Mitch. Miss you, heart-of-my-heart, soul-of-my-soul. *snugs*
Time to call Falling. More later.
Things have been going... not smoothly, but pretty well, all things considered. The situation isn't exactly great right now, but we're resourceful people and we're finding ways to get by without suffering too much a loss in our already stripped-down lifestyle. We can still eat relatively good food and drive the cars... not like there's much choice about the cars. Adam and I could maybe function within the Vacaville bus system, maybe, even though it sucks so much, but Mom never could. She's just not healthy enough anymore. She's 63 and can barely get out of bed some days.
I'm going to have to ask my father for money. The thought has been very stressful for a long time, but I think I've finally gotten myself into the right mindset and state of equilibrium to attempt it. Now I just have to decide if I do it in person or not.
I've been doing a lot better lately, as far as metaprogramming and my neuropsychologic health are concerned. It's still far from perfect, but I've at least finally managed to firmly convince myself that I can, in fact, program myself, that it just takes knowing how to do it and a lot of time and effort, at least right now.
Manitou and Mitch both had birthdays this week. Manitou turned 1 year on Friday October 10th, and Mitch turned 22 on the 12th. I bought him a nice big half-sheet cake from Safeway. It's chocolate, has five big roses, fifteen rosebuds, and chocolate buttercream frosting. I bought a couple tubes of icing and added "Happy B'Day Mitch!!" Plus some spirals and three snakes, slithering subtly amongst the roses. Amazingly tasty. jayyy and erauqs both came over, Nick/erauqs bringing his girlfriend. There were a couple of things I wish hadn't happened, like my brother being a douche to Jay and Nick and his girlfriend getting treated terribly at the sushi place Mitch and I always go to. (Jay paid for both Mitch and I even though it was supposed to just be his present to Mitch and I had gone prepared to cover myself. He's so sweet.) Usually it's a really good place so I was very surprised and unhappy that the service was so bad it qualified as rude. They didn't leave a tip at all, and these are people who usually tip 25%. I didn't blame them at all.
Otherwise it went well and Mitch and I both had a good day yesterday. I worked very hard to make sure he'd have a nice, happy birthday. After sushi we came home. Mitch made everyone sing him the birthday song. Then we cut the cake and put on Monty Python. I adjourned to the couch to let Mitch have some time with people other than me while they sat further back on chairs, talking as well as watching. Listening to him enjoy himself made me happy.
My only regret is that after our friends left, we went to bed and fell asleep rather than making love. We thought we'd be able to in the morning, but we got distracted by needing to find a letter with Mitch's ticket information in it and we never got to. I really regret that. I wanted to renew my neurophysical connection with him before he left. Oh well. He'll be home soon enough.
I hope to still move to Oregon, but that's been delayed another couple weeks because of Mitch having to go to North Dakota and Mom's divorce from Julian plus some stuff I have to do. Sigh.
I really need to send them our IDs, and now Mitch is in ND. I have to ask him to make a copy of his ID and mail it from there. Hopefully he'll read this.
I finally, finally, finally made myself get started for real on my first novel. In the end, as much as I like The Ghost Tree trilogy idea, it's a bit too in-depth to stand as the first Paradise City book(s). I need something to introduce the world a little better that isn't so intricate in plot and doesn't need so many characters and strange ideas. So I decided to create a Paradise City story inspired heavily by serial killer Carl Panzram. Not only is he the single least repentant serial killer ever, but he's got some of the best quotes, too. When asked, before being hanged by the State, if he had any last words, he said this: "Yes: Hurry up already, you Hoosier bastard! I could've hung ten men while you're dicking around up there!"
He was a fascinating character, much less "generic" than many serial killers. Because he was able to write an autobiography in prison and was not the usual chronic liar-type sociopath (most of his claims were validated) a good deal is known about him and his life, although obviously many details are beyond confirmation. I'm going to write it assuming that the autobiography is mostly accurate, changing only the details needed to make it the Stained World rather than our world. I'm also changing the later parts of the story, embellishing it for the sake of plot and creativity so the story is something more than just a fictional re-hash of his autobiography.
In real life, while on Death Row, a prison guard discovered that the other guards were secretly torturing inmates under the guise of "discipline" and "interrogation", and specifically witnessed Panzram's victimization. After getting a moment alone, the guard slipped Panzram a dollar (a fair amount of money during the Depression, especially in prison.) While Panzram at first thought it was just another form of torture, a prelude to some trick, when nothing happened he slowly realized that the guard honestly meant the gesture. Having never had anyone do anything nice for him spontaneously in his life, Panzram was oddly touched, and they slowly became friendly with each other, relatively speaking. Henry, the guard, encouraged Panzram to write his autobiography, even brought him the paper and pencils, pens, and such he needed to do it.
Here's a link to the summary I wrote and to the first chapter, if anyone's interested.
http://storywrite.com/story/212552
http://storywrite.com/story/212044
I've been doing a lot of writing since we got the computer back. It's been pent up inside all during the Dry Spell (as I think of it) and now all of it is rushing out. I'm hoping to use that momentum to get a good ways into the story so I'll have an easier time continuing once the rush eases off and I return to a more normal creative level.
It'll be a lot easier than my other novel ideas to write, too, since a large part of the story has essentially already been brainstormed. I just have to organize it, fill in the details, and write it down.
If you want to look at what I've been writing recently, it's all either at StoryWrite or AllPoetry.
http://storywrite.com/intoothandclaw
http://allpoetry.com/intoothandclaw
I'd love to write more, since it's been so long, but it's already 3 AM. I need to call up Falling and send him to Mitch like I said I would. I miss him; I promised I'd send a spirit to watch over him for me, and that I'd be with him even though I wasn't with him. So I have to go do that. Plus I need to wake up tomorrow and get things done. I've only got 1,500 words on the novel so far and I have to get hustling on that. I'm thinking of waiting another couple weeks and then making it a NaNoWriMo project in order to give myself momentum, but I can just as easily write for it now, then start it again in November as a rewrite. It'll need at least one more than likely anyway. Nothing is perfect on the first go and I improve all the time, so it makes sense.
I found a snail-mail letter written by my ex-girlfriend to me four years ago. It was so unexpected that it made me cry. I've moved on in most ways, but there's a hole in my heart that will always have the name "Cynical Jester" on it. The 'CJ' scar on my upper left arm still hasn't faded. I wonder if it ever will.
I wish we had parted on better terms. We might have been able to stay friends, at least.
Sigh.
I can't believe how lucky I am. I've been given the best thing I've ever been given twice now. I can't imagine I'll be so fortunate a third time. I treasure you so much, Mitch. Miss you, heart-of-my-heart, soul-of-my-soul. *snugs*
Time to call Falling. More later.