Oscar Wilde famously said, "To love oneself is the beginning of a lifelong romance." I saw that today as part of a list of inspirational sayings . . . but knowing Wilde, he either meant it as a joke or meant it as a double-entendre. Good for him.
I'm at the library again--with an hour before closing--for the first time in what seems like a while (I'm pretty sure I was here Tuesday, but not Wednesday, and yesterday, I came to the library, but was talking to Big on the phone, so I stayed in my car, and then just ended up writing there in the car once he'd hung up, since the library would close most likely as soon as I got into my writing). But I'm here now, and if I can stop blogging and start writing, maybe I'll salvage something.*
I was talking about the pizza place the other day. I started writing it a year back, not sure when the story would be set, but leaning toward the mid-Nineties. As I got further into it, I decided it took place the summer of 1991 (which means poor Meeshelle would be nearing fifty in modern stories--instead of about thirty, but that will just have to be a plothole**), but never went back to earlier in the story and mentioned that Bush is President or cellphones don't exist (I know you think they did, but dude) or that gas is still less than a dollar a gallon.
But in looking it over this week, I discovered a reference to FORREST GUMP in the second chapter/section of the story, and recalled all too well that the film didn't come out until 1994. So I racked my brain trying to come up with a substitution for Gump, because a character makes the reference to call another character dumb, and then there is a joke about Gump getting shot in the butt. So first, I thought, Dan Quayle (our 1991 Vice-President) was regarded as dumb, and I made the switch, but couldn't come up with a joke (because the thing I remember Quayle being famous for was misspelling "potato"). So, I thought, "The Simpsons" was on in 1991, and Homer Simpson was dumb, so I made that switch. But in 1991, Homer was less-than-brilliant, but he was still a well-meaning, simple guy. He hadn't yet become a cartoon character.
So I thought, "Beavis & Butthead?" But I think that was 1993 or so. What movie character was dumb? And I drew a blank. Still am.
Finally, I picked--almost desperately--Bill and Ted, from BILL & TED'S EXCELLENT ADVENTURE, which I believe came out in '88, but it took me four seconds to see it was '89. And the sequel was definitely 1991, so that would've been an appropriate reference that year. Of course, I couldn't come up with a joke to follow it, not a butt one, anyway. If you have any suggestions, I'd be happy to switch it out.
Not sure why I share stuff like this with you.
Sit-ups Today: 150
Sit-ups In March: 2779 (and sit-ups move ahead again!)
I was saddened to see that Larry McMurtry died today. He was eighty-four.
Reading his book "Lonesome Dove" in 2005 was one of the seminal book experiences of my life. I took the paperback to the various sets I was an extra on, and wept openly at the end. Another extra approached me and said, "Jesus, what book was that you were reading?" A little embarrassed, I showed it to him, and he said, "I want to read it too. How much?" I sold it to him for a dollar, and then was vexed when I discovered the way he kept his place while reading was not by a bookmark, or bending the corners, but by tearing out the pages as he read them, so he was always on the first page of the book.
That Christmas, I tracked down a hardcover copy of "Lonesome Dove" and gave it to my dad for Christmas, writing him a message on the inner cover. I don't know if he ever read it, but when he died, it was one of the things that ended up in my pile.
If I live long enough, I'd love to read through that entire series again, and hopefully enjoy them as much as I did the first time through.
Also, I wrote "Birth of a Sidekick" in 2005, my first ever Western story. There's little chance I would've written it without Larry McMurtry. Thanks, man.
Push-ups Today: 152
Push-ups In March: 2718
I did the thing where I rollerblade in the backyard, on the grass (where it's safe) again today. I set a goal for myself to go ten times around the lawn, and by the second time, I wanted to quit. I think I've explained that the blades are uncomfortable on my feet, and they seem to be working muscles that I don't use while walking or running (which surprises the hell out of me, but maybe shouldn't because, despite doing push-ups every single day, which have actually changed the way my shoulders and chest look in the mirror, I have even less arm strength than I did a year or two years ago, as I slowly spiral toward geriatricity). And while I have not fallen a single time since the last one I did on cement, I am virtually certain that this safe form of rollerblading is not preparing me for real rollerblading, any more than riding a tricycle prepares you for riding a bicycle without training wheels.***
But it is possible that I'll make my goal of ten for the month, if I don't let it slide again. No pun intended.
Rollerblading In March: 7 (of 10)
Words Today: 1285
Words In March: 22,365
*Not that yesterday was a failure. I got about eight hundred words in at the parking lot, then got another three or four hundred at night before I fell asleep, really trying to finish up this Lara story.
**You see, I don't feel fifty. I feel too old to be going to high school, sure, but not the age my parents were just a few years back. The characters in the "Dead & Breakfast" universe are young--except for Mrs. Bice--and that works well for people who'd work the desk at a small town hotel. Mason is somewhat based on me, but he can't be my age and background, because then, whoa, he would seem like a giant loser, especially falling so hard for Natalie, who was probably born around the time "Seinfeld" went off the air.
***Although, if you really wanted to be a cheerleader, you could say that riding that tricycle built up your leg muscles with all the peddling, which can't help but help out on a real bike, and the "training wheels" rollerblading can't help but improve my ability to propel myself forward using only my calves and ankles.
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