June Sweeps - Day 138

So, I went up to the cabin again today.  Just like yesterday, I set my alarm to wake me up early, so I'd get a full day at the cabin after I got my work done (I had gotten most of it finished yesterday afternoon, so I knew I'd be okay if I could just wake up early) . . . and again, the damned thing didn't go off.  I thought yesterday that maybe I had pushed a button and cleared it right before I fell asleep or something, but nope, it still said it was going to wake me up . . . a full half hour before.

So, I don't know what's wrong with that.  My regular alarm goes off at the same time every day, so it still works.  I wonder what I would've done if I had had to be somewhere, like on a film set or an appointment, and the thing failed me like that.  Count my blessings, I suppose, that it was just my weekend that was screwed over by the alarm.

Last week was quite cool (temperature-wise), and I had only brought summer clothes, so I grabbed the I NOW PRONOUNCE YOU CHUCK & LARRY jacket I always keep in my car (there was a caption-writing contest I entered right before the movie came out a decade back, and I won a hat, the jacket, a duffle bag I still take on road trips sometimes, and a Ziplock baggie filled with Adam Sandler's spittle) and put it on.  I ended up wearing it the whole day, and slept in it because I couldn't get the fire to stay lit.

Today is supposed to be even colder, so I made sure to grab long-sleeved shirts and am wearing long pants, but it's warmer right now than it was last week, except for a chilly breeze that's making all the leaves outside the windows flutter in a delightful way.  I love it up here at the cabin, but I can hear guys just over the ridge behind the cabin (where I like to sit and read) doing some kind of noisy construction, involving shouting and backing up beeps and chainsaws, and that's a step down from the last two visits.

There are a number of things I look forward to when I'm here.  One of them is just pleasant solitude (rather than the other, unpleasant kind), the chance to read, the chance to do what I want for as long as I want*, a few moments to write, a few longer moments to edit audio, and maybe watch a video from the library.

I thought I'd alternate between activities, like I normally do, and made myself do some sit-ups just now.  And while I don't necessarily need to go to the emergency room afterward like last week, it is a super hard wood floor, and absolutely no fun to do them there.

I recorded and edited a little piece to go on the end of my "Writing To Please" episode, which still has the worst title of any of the episodes I've put out.  Since I've already released it for my Patreon supporters, they will get a bonus podcast that's just today's addition.

This is going to sound super complainy, but it was terribly cold today, and when I went out to the lake to do the song (the highpoint of my day, I guess it's sad to admit), it was so cold that after a while, I couldn't get my fingers to press the button on the phone.  Isn't that bizarre?

The wind prevented the reflection from last week.

I have learned (the hard way) to always check the video before I leave the storage unit (or the lakeside, in this case), because I've had a couple turn out totally blurry and one where the picture was vertically on its side (which is useful for nothing), and when I checked this particular one (only took me two takes to get through the song), I discovered just how weird my hair looked.  Now granted, the wind was blowing icily along the water, messing with my hair, but it's at a length where I guess it just looks BAD, and maybe I'll have to get it cut soon.**

"You don't believe me?  You will, Doctor Jones . . . you will become a true believer!"

I built a fire in the fireplace, and it blazed pretty well for an hour or so, which enabled me to cook some soup and warm up the room.  The thermometer says it's 38 degrees outside and 68 degrees inside, which is great, but the fire seems to have gone out again.  I did some more sit-ups, and am going to go for a record today before I sit and read and once again, fall asleep long before I planned to.

I feel we've pretty much reached the end of all this--the blogging, the daily writing, the self-improvement, the exercise--because there's just no point to it all.  Last night, I hung out with my uncle and his ex-wife, and both of them were really supportive of my singing.  Len's always impressed by my writing, which is nice too.  I try to be a positive person, but it flies in the face of my nature, whereas Len is always in pain because of his back, which flies in the face of his cheerful, positive nature.

I wrote quite a bit today, on the egg story (the new one I started this week), "Podcatcher," which may actually have some light way off at the end of the tunnel, and a wee bit on "Only Have Eyes," which is just tunnel all the way down.

Sit-ups Today: 150 (dang, I was gonna try for a record)
Sit-ups in June: 2084

Despite the really high number of sit-ups, I didn't manage any running today.  I was scrambling to get my song recorded before the sun set, and was so darn cold that I managed to run about a thousand feet before I thought, "Eff this noise," and walked the rest of the way.  It wasn't even dark out yet, and I could see my breath.  Since it doesn't matter in the slightest whether I go running or not, I hope you will forgive me.

Words Today: 1302
Words In June: 17,028

*Right now, I'm blogging, sitting at the table with a blue Mountain Dew next to me, thinking I could grab a book and go outside, or I could just sit here, or I could take a nap, or I could listen to music and exercise, or I could do all of those things, in any order.  Nice.

**The Hispanic lady that's cut my hair for years closed up her salon when the pandemic hit, and within a month, it was for sale.  And now it's a bloody dog grooming clinic (though they will technically groom dogs that don't have blood on them too).  I wonder if the haircut lady still works somewhere I could track down, or if I have to go looking for a new one.

June Sweeps - Day 137

Last night I set my alarm to wake me, despite being pretty worried how it would feel when it woke me up (Tuesdays are my early days), and woke in the morning with a sensation that it was later than I was supposed to wake up.  Lately, I've been waking right before my alarm goes off (leading me to think I ought to start setting it a half hour earlier every day, just to get that much more awake time each morning), and I waited for the alarm to go off . . . but it didn't.  When I finally looked at the clock, it was past my time, and I wondered what had happened.

It was a busy day.  I had an appointment--had to have a physical exam, in the era of COVID-19, and that was weird, because the doctor still had to listen to my breathing and check my reflexes, but wouldn't feel my lymph nodes or check my ears.

I did some writing, though not nearly enough.  I meant to go to the library, but I had to mow the lawn and go on my run, and my uncle was coming over (he had meant to the night before, but fell asleep, so we rescheduled for Tuesday), and I called up Marshal Latham and we did a quick podcast about the Star Wars Celebration in August being canceled.  He was bummed about that, and I'd like to think that he was also sad that we couldn't go on our road trip together.

And speaking of sad, you know that girl I like?  Today I saw her briefly (it's always briefly, he said with a wistful sigh), and she was singing along to the radio, and it was to Justin Bieber (and not one of the forgivable old, slightly-charming Bieber songs, but the new, mediocre, overplayed, unmusical, charm-free song you hear constantly on the radio), and while usually, I am incapable of saying anything clever to her (and worse: sometimes no words whatsoever), today I said to her, "Is that a Justin Bieber song?  Huh.  I've discovered your one flaw."

And . . . nothing.  Not a smile, not a laugh.*  Dude, if I had written that line in a story it would have struck me as a smooth, impressive line of dialogue.  But in real life, with that particular person, I might as well have said nothing at all.  Sigh.

Sit-ups Today: 100
Sit-ups In June: 1934

So, let's see.  I had the read-through (the table-read) for my script today.  I was surprised how well it went.  There were two typos that I noticed, but nobody else called me on them.  I received a few good notes afterward, but nothing drastic.  Basically, just cut it down, which I knew was coming anyway.  I got an idea I liked for a scene (not an additional scene, just swapping out one bit for a new, tighter bit).

I had forgotten how good a screenwriter I was.  Guess it took this to remind me of my first, best destiny.**  Maybe I ought to say a few words about that in a podcast.

Anyway, my Uncle Len came over to do karaoke with me, and that was actually pretty great.  He's a good singer, but his voice is so high (he always wants to do harmony and let me do the main bit) that after a few songs, he couldn't sing anymore.  He was very positive, as usual, and super complimentary about my own singing.  I'd love to go out to a karaoke bar again with him, but we wouldn't get in nearly as many songs as we did in the living room with the karaoke machine he got for my sister.  He likes Country songs, and I know so few of them (I did listen to the Country station the whole drive up to the cabin this week, and heard the song I first heard last week when I chose that station, and one song from back when I listened to Country--She's In Love by Faith Hill, which I still knew and brought me back to the me from twenty years ago, trying hard to pursue my dreams, despite my own worthlessness eventually catching up with me).

I headed over to my cousin's house, and we watched "What We Do In The Shadows," which was fun, but after only two episodes, I couldn't keep my eyes open, and I basically slept through the third episode we watched, and then had to go home to get some shut-eye.  Still did my sit-ups before I went to sleep, but I have no reason to (except that it was a goal I set, and I'd hate for a little melancholy to keep me from achieving a fairly doable goal).

Words Today: 615 (except that I did work on my script for a few minutes, but was paring it down, so it's not going to count as words if I try to do the math)
Words In June: 15,726

*I made a much lamer joke to her coworker--Chelsey, who had dyed her hair platinum blonde--saying, "Did you change your hair?  Would you mind singing Let It Go with me later?"  And she laughed out loud, like it was actually funny (which it wasn't).  I can't catch a break.

**Sorry about the arrogance of that statement.  I normally worry I'm not that good a writer, but that's because all my talents lie in dialogue and story, not in prose or pacing, and screenplays are just easier.

June Sweeps - Day 136

Nothing today.  Sorry.

Because Mondays are busy, I didn't blog anything except my numbers.

Sit-ups Today: 111 (again)
Sit-ups In June: 1834

So, the other thing I wanted to say about today, but didn't have time to go into (I'm typing this a few days later, sitting in an actual chair, on an actual flabby behind) was that I started a new story today.  I know, I know, it's irresponsible of me, since I've got several works-in-progress, and two of my goals for the month are to finish "Podcatcher" and "Only Have Eyes For You," but I mentioned in my most recent podcast an idea I had about a couple of kids that find an egg, and I decided to jot that down, in case I wanted to write it later.

One day, I will look back on 2019 and 2020 and say, "Oh no, not another story about unrequited love, inspired by that same damned girl that had absolutely no interest in me that year," but right now, it's still inspiring stories like the old time locomotive conductor shoving logs into the stove as fast as he can manage. And this one, while intended to be about two boys and a girl who find an egg while exploring, has now become about a teenaged boy and girl that are hiking together, and make the same discovery

And yep, there's unrequited love in this one too.

But hey, for some reason--I don't plan these things, they just happen as I write them--it's the girl that has a crush on the boy, and he sees her as too young and too plain, despite him being about fifteen and her being thirteen or so.  He's just moved into town and she's his neighbor, so he has nobody else to hang out with, but they'll end up bonding over this discovery they make.

And gosh, I would like nothing more than to have them get together, for him to discover that she's actually pretty darn cute, and they explore their sexuality for page after page, the prehistoric egg they found completely forgotten by the author.  That would sure be nice.

But instead, it's probably going to go another way.  We'll see, since I just started it today.  But it seems like it could be a short story I finish by the end of the month, especially if I figure out where it's going the next time I go running or mow the lawn or something.  I'll let you know.

Words Today: 1580 (not bad)
Words In June: 15,111

June Sweeps - Day 135

I don't know where the day went.  It's two am and I haven't even started my blogging yet.  Do I even want to?

(guess I didn't, because it's the next day and I still haven't done this)

Surprisingly, since I was sunburned and tired from hiking in the mountains yesterday, I decided to go on a hike today as well.  I was in a nearby town, grabbing something to eat, and I thought about something my friend Rhett said yesterday, about there being a waterfall in the hills near there.  I asked my phone to guide me, and it said I was six minutes away.  So I decided to go, despite wearing the slippery non-hiking shoes I had had on the day I found the cellphone, and slipped multiple times descending another waterfall.

This was a fairly easy climb, and there were tons of people there (indeed, in the five minutes that it took me to empty out my backpack and stick a bottled water in there--as well as the requisite Yo Gabba Gabba character--I saw thirty or so people come down the trail and hit their cars), including people with babies.*

The main destination was a little waterfall, coming down through a narrow gap between two mountains, and there was a hiking trail that went, according to the signs, for miles up and up and up, with even smaller waterfalls every quarter mile or so (maybe even closer together than that).

It was not spectacular, and there was very little majesty or beauty to take pictures of (that's why I need you to come with me next time), but I was glad I went, because, hey, life experience, and hey hey, more exercise, and hey hey hey hey, don't you forget about me, when you walk on by.

To get an interesting shot I did one of those stupid, irresponsible things that are always getting photographers killed: I climbed out on the edge of the cliff and stuck my phone over the edge (on a stick) to look down, all the while aware that, if I fell, no one would end up seeing the spectacular footage because the water would ruin the phone.  But I didn't fall, darn it, so here you are:

There were metal rings embedded into the rock next to the main waterfall, and as I was coming down, I saw an instructor and a young woman getting ready to rappel off it.  So, I just walked over to the side of the hill and sat down, watching them work.  Surprisingly, the man got the girl in the harness, made sure everything was secure, and then stood there and watched, letting the woman do all the work at her own pace.  I wondered if that was because of COVID, or if it was because of the stigma of putting her hands all over a young, athletic woman.  Once she had gotten down more than halfway, I hiked down to the base of the waterfall, where there were tons of people congregated, some splashing around in the ice cold water, some just hanging out and enjoying the view, and some watching the girl rappel down (am I spelling that right?).

Not particularly deep (like my stories)

Sure enough, she made it down just as I reached the water, and then her instructor practically jumped off the ledge, sliding down the whole way in probably four or five seconds.  He helped unstrap her, and I decided to stick my head under the waterfall, just to see why the kids that were running around kept doing it.  It was as cold as you can imagine, but it felt alright, considering I'd been hiking for an hour on a hot, sunny day.

At one point, I did take my shoes and socks off and stick my feet in the stream, but it was so cold it was more like torture than anything you'd do by choice.

This one's for the ladies...

Whenever I do one of these hikes, I take my phone with me, to listen to music with and take pictures, and I only have the one playlist on the phone (made up of mostly fast-paced songs for me to jog to), but I have to admit that, after listening to the same thirty or so songs for the past few months, it might be time to delete most of them and load some new ones.  Can't do it now, though.

Sit-ups Today: 111 (I like that number)

Sit-ups In June: 1723

Words Today: 1074
Words In June: 13,531

*Which shouldn't be surprising--this seems to be the world capital for babies--but I don't think I would ever take an infant mountain-climbing or waterfall hiking.

Storage Unit Serenade 19

Well, you know, it MIGHT not be that bad.

Stats
Pre-Eighties Songs: 6
Eighties Songs: 5
Nineties Songs: 5
Aughts Songs: 0
Teens Songs: 3

Logo by Gino "Hey Zealously" Moretto.

So, I was hoping to post something "special" for the twentieth one, but now I'm thinking it doesn't matter, that I should just put these up in the order they were recorded, and let the SUS fall where they may.  And I really ought to start dropping these more often, or else I will die with five or six of these still sitting (whenever that may be).

June Sweeps - Day 134

Ohps (a combination of Oh and Ooops), this may be it, kids . . . the day I break my streak.

I got up super early today (actually two minutes before my alarm went off, not sure how that happens) so I could drive thirty-five miles south to meet a pair of high school friends to go on a hike with them.  We had planned to do it two weeks ago, but there was a holiday, then a week ago, but one of us couldn't make it, and today was the day that all three were available.

Problem was, I wasn't sure how far up the canyon my destination was, and once I got a mile or so up the canyon, my cellphone service disappeared, and I was just stuck.  Luckily, there were dozens of hikers, bicyclists, and child predators enjoying the canyon, so I was able to ask a couple of them for directions.  I arrived about ten minutes late, and nobody was there (except several parked cars with no one in them), and I was worried I missed them.  But my buddy Rhett had always been physically incapable of arriving anywhere on time for the thirty years I've known him, so I just wandered around for another twenty minutes until he showed up.  Our third friend never did show up (unless she was there on time and gave up when we never arrived), but Rhett brought his son with him.

His son is fifteen, tall and skinny and awkward, and somewhat endearingly, he insisted on being part of every conversation his old man and I had, even when Rhett was reminiscing about his high school days (the thing that Rhett does best of all).  I'm not sure why he did it, but there was something refreshingly innocent about that (Rhett asked me about horror movies at one point, and I told him how few I see nowadays, and said, "How 'bout you?  Do you ever watch horror movies anymore?" and his son said, "No, I don't watch those very much," which was kinda off-putting).

It was quite a hike, and this is coming from someone who runs every night and hikes once a week.  Distance-wise, it was probably only four or five miles, but it was climbing up a mountain, and then climbing down, trying not to fall at the steep points.*

Rhett swore quite a bit in front of his kid, and after an hour or so, I followed his lead.  But when I used the word "mother-fucker," I felt I may have overstepped some unwritten law, and dialed it down a couple of notches for the rest of the day.

Two years ago, there was a massive forest fire all throughout the canyon, and Rhett described going on a similar walk last year, and seeing everything just blacked and ash-covered.  This year, though, although every tree was dead once you got up a certain height, there was new plants on the ground and lots of little sprouts and bushes that were apparently new for 2020.

Rhett really wanted to go see Big Tree, the largest tree in the forest, which has become something mildly sacred to him over the years.  He said that when the fire happened in 2018, he was worried Big Tree wouldn't survive, but somebody who had hiked up there last year said it had been missed, so he was hopeful.

But no, it was not only burned, but spectacularly so, and had broken in half, the top pieces lying around its base like fallen soldiers.  In places, the blackened bark had fallen off, leaving yellow beneath it, and it was like the bone showing through a dead man.

We stayed there a while, looking, drinking what remained of our water.  He talked about the various times he had gone up there (he's lived in the same town for his whole life, and still loves to go out on foot or on a bike or with his dog, exploring the trails and enjoying the seasons), and there was something tragic about it, pretty as it is.

I took five or six pictures just of this tree . . . and they were not enough.

I really don't like the way I look in this picture (below), but it shows you the size of the tree, and its blackness, which I think make up for me being in it (I look like I'm trying to pull my pants up, what it was is that I set the timer to take the picture, then I ran over there as started to put my hands on my hips just as the camera clicked).

Look, despite me writing 164,000 words since February first, I'm not enough of a wordsmith to describe what it looked like to see hundreds of burnt, blacked, dead trees pushing off in all directions, and at the same time, tons of new green growth at the base of it all, including pink summer flowers.  In the midst of death we are in life or something.

Rhett took the loss of Big Tree pretty hard.  I think, were the man capable of tears, we might have seen one or two.  He took his teenaged lady love up there one time, and showed me a picture he had brought of that trip, and how different it had all looked before the fire.  He reminded me that I had actually been up there in 1996 or so, even though I had only the vaguest memory of seeing that big tree before.**

This was a super bizarre dead tree we saw going back down the hill.  Most of it had rotted away, leaving only a C-shaped hole in the base, but it had not yet fallen over.  It was sad, yes, but also kind of amazing.

We had a good hike, and I was pretty exhausted and totally dirty by the time it was over, and then it was time for my nephew's third birthday party, which was neat.

Now, I am sunburned and tired and super sleepy.  My options are to go to sleep, or to drink a Mountain Dew (Rhett gave me one, as is his tradition every time he sees me--he always finds these obscure, limited flavors, and saves them for me, sometimes more than a year), and try and write something.  Which do I choose, a hard or soft option?

Well, I drank it down, and it was divine (it was some new flavor called Frost Bite with a shark on the bottle), and then I got a few words in, 475 to be exact.  I also forced myself to do a hundred sit-ups, which might become the norm rather than the exception as this month goes on.

Sit-ups Today: 100
Sit-ups In June: 1612

Words Today: 657
Words In June: 12,457

These are not a lot of words, but considering I was going to go to sleep with ZERO, I consider it an accomplishment.

*I did drop right onto my butt at one point, when the ground gave way beneath my feet, but either I'm in better shape than I thought, or I'm not as old as the calendar (or the people around me) insists I am.

**It's funny what you attach significance to.  I remember crying when my mom sold our old station wagon, because it was the car I had learned to drive in.

June Sweeps - Day 133

Another busy day for me today.  Luckily, my sister was taking the boys to the skate park, and I went along with my laptop, hoping to get some writing done.  And I did . . . it just wasn't much or very good.

Ah well.

I did sit down and record the Drabblecast story, "Sandy" last night, and then today I edited it, and got it back to Norm.  Probably record-setting turnaround there, but hey, that's what they hired me for.

That girl that was obnoxiously cutesy with her fiancé in the videos I talked about a couple of weeks ago got married today.  You know, I never went back and finished their helium-talking episode, nor the one they made after that.  The one of their wedding night might bring me back, though.

Honestly, despite how irksome that video was, they really are a beautiful couple, and I'm sure more in love than you or I will ever be.*  And I wish them well, though I'm going to vow not to ever mention them on this blog again.

Despite my problem a couple of days earlier in the week, I still got sit-ups in, and tried to do a hundred in a row without my nephew egging me on.  It was difficult, but doable. 

Sit-ups Today: 100
Sit-ups In June: 1512 (halfway there)

Tomorrow I'm going for a hike with friends, so it's going to be a slightly more social day for me.  Oh, and it's my nephew's birthday party.  Wow, me and people again.  Who knew?

Words Today: 689
Words In June: 11,800 (whoops, dropped below a thousand again)

*While I'm being honest, I'm sure that, were I in a similar situation, with a countdown to a June wedding and a weekly video blog in which to show off my workout body and the girth of our love, I'd be just as obnoxious as they were.  Except I'd like to think I'd be at least creative about it, coming up with sketches and comedic bits for us to do. 
"I love you, sweetie." 
"I love you more." 
"Hey, that's not funny.  You take that back." 
"What, hon?  Take what back?" 
"How dare you say you love me more?  You're a huge piece of shit, you know that?" 
"Um, on second thought, maybe you're right.  Maybe I don't love you as much as I was thinking I did." 
"There, that's better."

June Sweeps - Day 132

Gooble gobble, gooble gobble, one of us, one of us!

So, soon I will have to leave the cabin, tail betwixt my legs.  I've been here twenty-four hours, and like I said last week, one day is really not enough.  I can't say if my schedule will allow me to come again next week, but if so, I should get up as early as I can on Wednesday, and try to get here before noon or so.  Doubtful, but you never know with the way I've been getting up lately.

Last Thursday, I woke around seven-thirty or so, with the sun low in the sky.  This morning, I opened my eyes, much colder than I was last week, and the sun was just barely peeking over the horizon, not even reaching the windows yet.  It was before seven, and I had awakened.

Of course, I accomplished very little before falling asleep again, so I don't know if it technically even counts as getting up early.

The writing has been really hard.  Really, really hard.  As the second day at the cabin rapidly ran out, like water through a bucket with a crack in it, I found myself wanting to do anything but write: read my new book (I opened it and closed it on the same second page twice during the day, and only made it through the second chapter), sleep, edit audio, read Dunesteef submissions (this was the first time I'd grabbed the ones people sent us for our Christmas contest, though I probably should've tackled them months ago), even doing uncomfortable sit-ups.

I did jot down a single sentence in the post-dawn light when I first got up, but then there was nothing until almost lunchtime, when I wrote a little bit about Rowan having a scar on her knee from a bad motorcycle turn as a teen.  And then, nothing.  I did my word count, just out of curiosity, and it was less than half of what I wrote yesterday, which was a really sad, almost pathetic writing total.  Not sure what's wrong with me, except that I've kept it up for a third of a year, and it's hard to keep anything up that long (unless it's my nephews, watching inane kids television on the couch each and every day).

As the day was nearly gone, I made little fists and sat down and tried my best to write a scene through to the end.  And my best is . . . good enough?  When I did my word count, I was up over a thousand, so, yeah, good enough.

I had this idea of going for a walk, down by where I heard the frogs my first day here two weeks back, and seeing how big the lake at the bottom of the mountain was.  But I didn't get to it, not even close.

I packed everything up and left the cabin, wishing that I could stay longer, or another night, but just like last week, it's better to leave em/me wanting more than to wear out your welcome.

One advantage to having written during the day was that, tonight, when Norm Sherman emailed me (and actually texted me too) to see if I could do a rush reading of a short story for the Drabblecast, I told him I could record it tonight, not having to worry about doing other stuff.  I got it recorded, and have to get it edited and sent to him this weekend . . . for the next episode.*

I also managed to get a few more sit-ups in today, and it's already less painful than it was yesterday (although a couple of times throughout the day I did sit down wrong, including a moment ago to type this, and yep, that reminded me that I'm still alive, 'cause dead men feel no pain.

Sit-ups Today: 100
Sit-ups in June: 1412

Words Today: 1304
Words In June: 11,111 (Isn't that the most spectacular number?  I swear, it was purely an accident too!)

*I checked, and it looks like I haven't been on the Drabblecast since 2015.  Is that even possible?  Of course, I haven't been on Escapepod since the twelfth of Never, but no worries, I am scheduled to do an episode right around the time that Hell freezes over.

Rish Outcast 173: Round & Round

In this show, I present the first of three 1992 Praisden carnival stories, "Round and Round."

So, if you hate this one . . . we're both in trouble.



To download the episode, Right-Click HERE.

To support me on Patreon, Left-Click HERE.

Or you can support me on Patreon by going HERE.

Or you can become a Patreon supporter by hitting THIS LINK.

Logo by Gino "Square and Square" Moretto.

June Sweeps - Day 131

First things first: I checked the word count on my short story "Only Have Eyes For You" and it's over forty-thousand now.  While I can't remember if that's a novel or not (seems like it might have been, but it also seems like 50K was), it'll definitely be one IF I finish it.  That's a fairly big if, but I do keep on working on it.

Yesterday, I saw that dude Tanner for the last time (whenever I picture my character Mason Bradley in my mind, it's Tanner I see rather than myself).  I told him as many nice things I could, preferring to seem overly-affectionate rather than let him go unappreciated but not convinced I am gay.  Gosh, do you remember how frightened we all were years back that people would call us or think us gay?  I've really decided I give no craps about that anymore, so maybe that's progress.

So, I did decide to go to the cabin, but not until (almost) all my work was done.  I got going over an hour earlier than I did last week, but I needed to stop and get food for meals (I always buy a loaf of bread and a couple of cans of soup) and filled up on gas (I was worried that I'd run out out in the middle of nowhere, which is where long stretches of the drive take you . . . probably one of the things my dad most liked about this place). 

A decade back, it was my dad and my uncle that would most often trade off using this cabin, but now, it's my brother-in-law (usually with the kids) and me that use it the most.  I need to stop and sigh and think about how fortunate I am to be able to come up here as often as I do.  Except I'm always alone (which is nice, don't get me wrong), so it makes it a bit less wonderful, especially when there's an awesome sunset or the greens of all the trees and plants are more amazing than usual.

Oh, let me go ahead and be as shamelessly confessional as I can be here (we're all friends here, right?).  The other night (Monday?) when I was doing sit-ups, it seemed more uncomfortable than usual, and last night, I was afraid I had chafed myself somehow in a less-than-pleasant place.  Well, no, it turned out to be one of those things you don't talk about in polite conversation.  The type they have special pillows you can sit on for.

So, when I came up to the cabin on Wednesday, and was faced with doing sit-ups on the hard wooden floor of the cabin, I thought, "Yikes.  Now's when the men and separated from the boys, aren't they?"  I only managed to get twenty-five of them done, and I gotta say, they were the most painful sit-ups I've experienced, and I had to stop.  But not to be deterred, I took myself to the lake around sunset and decided not only do do some running from one side to the other (I even touched a rock there as a sort of tag marker, before turning around and doing it again), but I also picked another song to sing at the water's edge, just as the sun is going down over the trees.

It was, if anything, more beautiful than last week, but unlike last week, there was one other person there this time, so I felt super self-conscious.  He was an old man, fishing, and was just quitting for the day (he didn't appear to have caught anything).  "What you doing, taking pictures?" he asked, eyeing my tripod.  I should have just lied (or half-lied, anyway) and said, Yep, but I told him, "I'm going to sing a song, embarrassing enough."

He surprised me by saying, "Oh, hey, that's nothing to be embarrassed about.  Good for you."  And then he made his way down the other side of the dam toward his truck or cabin, leaving me all alone again among all this nature, ducks, fish that were jumping in the water, and magic hour pinks and oranges reflecting off of everything.  I sang a Peabo Bryson song from my youth, and only did a single take, before I grabbed the camera and took a couple of pictures that probably aren't as spectacular reproduced here as they were in person.

Here is one from where I sang my song (on the dam):

It's one of those things where it's hard to see where the surface world ends and the reflection begins.

Here is one on the other side of the dam, where I had intended to sing last week, but didn't manage (I did try to do a second song there as the sun disappeared and the shadows got really long, but I couldn't remember the damned lyrics, despite having sung the song a hundred times since 1995 or so):

It makes me want to keep coming here, and keep racking up songs with incredible backgrounds (honestly, some Country band could shoot a whole video out here and people would gasp at how pretty it all looked), but I'm certain that one of these Wednesdays, there will be boats out on the water and fishermen all along its shore.

I came back to the cabin, tried to build me a fire (I am the worst pyromaniac the world has ever known), and got some lukewarm soup in me.  Then I watched a movie with Patrick Schwarzenegger in it, and marveled at how much like his old man he looked from certain angles, and how he didn't at all from others.* 

He sure seemed affable in the movie, and definitely handsomer than Ahnold ever was, but he seemed to struggle with the performance, especially any emotional bits.  Guess I should be embarrassed to admit I watched a chick flick aimed at teenaged girls, but I just spoke about my butt problems, so I've not got any pride left.

After it got dark, I went upstairs and sat on a pillow on a bed instead of the floor, and got fifty more sit-ups in.  Despite decades testifying to the contrary, I'm not quitter.

Sit-ups Today: 75
Sit-ups in June: 1312

Words Today: 718
Words In June: 9807 (with that, I drop below a thousand words a day.  Sad, in't it?)

*I met the guy when he was just a kid, the one time I met his father, who shook my hand in these gigantic Hulk hands-sized mitts, and I found it strange that Patrick didn't speak with his father's accent.  But of course he wouldn't.  I can't really say why Ahnold still does.

June Sweeps - Day 130

I turned on my laptop as soon as my alarm went off this morning, and as soon as I'd turned it on, the damned thing restarted, losing all the stuff I wrote yesterday . . . except that I had plugged all my words into the WordCounter program, which saves the most recent day's work.  Now all I had to do was copy and paste it, then reformat the damned thing . . . instead of writing new words.

Tuesdays are my early day now, for some reason.  You'd think, with an extra couple of hours, I'd get a lot more done than I do.

Ah well.  Guess that's why I go to the cabin.

I still haven't decided whether I dare go up tomorrow or not.  I have work to do, and I didn't finish it all today, so it's kind of irresponsible to jet off on a mid-week break with stuff left to do.*  But it's the only time I could do it this week.  I don't have a normal weekend, and Saturday's my nephew's third birthday anyway (can't see how it'll be any different than every other day, which he already treats as his birthday...though he is getting better).  Guess I'd better make up my mind.

Cathexis came over today with Panda Express for everybody for lunch.  I can't quite fathom why she'd buy for everybody, but she did (she's been doing paperwork for her mom's job lately and apparently gets paid pretty well, but still . . . I rarely go to Panda on my own because it's just so expensive).  I asked her when she wanted to do another "Twilight Zone" review, and she said today.  But then her boyfriend announced they were leaving early, so off she went.

As Boingo said, better luck, better luck next time.

My nephew (the twelve year old) challenged me to a sit-up competition today.  He's gotten quite fat, but is naturally athletic, and actually enjoys exercise.  He wanted to see if we could do a hundred sit-ups in a row.  I told him it would be almost impossible for me to manage, and absolutely impossible for him to do it.  But I was wrong on both counts.  We both did a hundred, and my sister watched us do it, then decided to do fifty of her own.  So I tried to match her fifty, and that was pretty hard, but not absolutely impossible, it turned out.

Sit-ups Today: 180
Sit-Ups in June: 1237

On Tuesdays I go to my cousin's house to watch TV, and traditionally, we have met up to eat dinner beforehand.  That meant, the last two weeks, I've had to do my nightly run when it's still light out.  Well, I had misunderstood when exactly we were getting together this week, so I thought I'd better do my run earlier than I had ever done it before.  The last few nights have been cool if not cold (one was so cold at one am when I did my run that I nearly turned around halfway through and called it a night, mostly because my hands were balled into icy little fists), so I'd been putting on sweatpants and the same long-sleeved shirt** every time.

I put it on again, and went out and did my run, and wow, it was way too hot and sunny to be doing that.  Not only that, but for the first time since the night when the dude with the flashlight tied to his genitals ran up the road ahead of me, I found another jogger going the same way as me.  This time it was an attractive, shapely young woman, on the other side of the main street, who also happened to be running, and nearly parallel with me.  She was young, as I said, with a stomach you could use to level boards with, and I don't imagine she even noticed me (though that would be crazy--you gotta notice when other people are around, especially if you're jogging alone, and, as Elaine Boosler once said, are carrying a vagina with you), but for the four block stretch we were together, I made it a point to keep up with her if I could.

And wow, that was work.  I'd like to say that she had just started out on her run, whereas I encountered her at the one mile mark, but no, she was probably just in better shape, and I had to really push myself to stay even with her.  And at the point where I turned to go onto my street and she continued forward, I was really sweating and struggling.  It made the last three blocks a bit harder than they have been the last few nights, where I've actually sped up as much as I can in the home stretch, just to get, I dunno, a single extra calorie burned off.  When I got in the house, my shirt, my face, and yeah, most probably my taint, were soaked with sweat, and I had to take a quick shower before I changed into my going-to-my-cousin's house clothes.

Not at all interesting, I realize, but I've got to fill this blog with something.

Well, it was my weakest day this month, as far as writing goes.  I tried, I really did.  But I'm just spinning my wheels on this story/book.  Another reason to go to the cabin tomorrow is to see if I can't work on something where I know the ending, like that Lara and the Witch love story I started last month.

Words Today: 559
Words In June: 9089

*Argh, that reminds me: Abbie gave me a single reline to do in her production, and I said I'd get to it yesterday.  And I didn't.  I can't remember when the deadline is, but I guess I'd better get that line re-done right now before I blog another word.
Finished.  That didn't take long.

**Why would I wear the same shirt when I run, you ask?  Am I some kind of stink freak that loves the smell of my own baked-on sweat and would love to buy used panties out of Japanese vending machines?  Well, no, it's that the shirt is light-colored, and I thought that would make me less likely to get run over by a car during my midnight runs, and then it became The Outfit for when I'd go out and do it, and I'd just throw it on every time, despite, yes, knowing that it smells and I need to wash it one of these days.