August Sweeps - Day 564

The rains came down again like crazy yesterday, to the point where my mother bought a bunch of bags of children's sand to use as sandbags in case there was flooding like there was, what, two weeks ago.  It did come pouring down, a shocking amount in a very short time, and there was spectacular lightning crisscrossing the sky (too many Marvel fans claimed to like Chris Evans over Hemsworth, apparently), but there was no flooding that I know of.  I called my mom and she said there had been hail and hours and hours of rain, but nothing like we'd gotten the last time.

Last night, my cousin and I went and saw FREE GUY, the new big-budget non-IP Action Comedy with Ryan Reynolds.  I've loved Reynolds since meeting him on the set of VAN WILDER--holy shit!--twenty years ago, and am pleased as punch that such a talented, funny, likeable human being could achieve so much success.  Shame about his face, though--just imagine the heights he could've soared if he'd been born good-looking.

FREE GUY was pretty remarkable.  It reminded me of other movies I'd seen over the years (the JUMANJI sequel, WRECK-IT RALPH, and others (my cousin said it was like READY PLAYER ONE, in his mind), but managed to seem fresh and a clever twist on familiar stories.  I have to admit that I was saddened to see the word "Fox" removed from the familiar searchlights logo at the beginning, but I'm sure, if I live long enough, Tinkerbell from the Walt Disney Pictures logo will be replaced by Tiffany Haddish.

I guess I have to say that, other that propelling Jodie Comer to the A-list in Hollywood, FREE GUY's most impressive accomplishment was in making me feel affection for a 90s Mariah Carey song.

Push-ups Today: 66
Push-ups Today: 2168

Big Anklevich has come to town this week, to visit his son, and drop his daughter off at college, only a year late.  His oldest daughter is pretty exemplary, a self-starter, ambitious and smart and motivated to excel (something both Big and I find hard to grasp), while his younger daughter is creative and passionate, artistic and more like her old man.  Stuff like that is pretty remarkable.

I had hoped we could hang out together more than we did the last time he came to town, but it looked like that wasn't to be--he's got familial responsibilities, and I'm not a part of that.  I wanted to go to the cabin--rather selfishly, I must admit--but I was willing to skip it this week, if it meant he and I could get together, even if it was to see a movie or get something to eat.  But he was allocated one day--Friday--for us to do something, and he suggested we go to the Bonneville Salt Flats together, which I've been wanting to do for several years.

I tried to get all my work done, so I could have the afternoon free, but I had made an eye doctor appointment, and they sent me a text to remind me.  I headed over there, and paid seventy dollars to look at letters on a iPad (a little different from the slides they've been using since World War II), and reveal whether lens 1 or 2 was clearer.

Turns out I'm nearsighted in my right eye and have astigmatism in my left eye, but not bad enough to warrant needing glasses to drive.  The doctor filled out the form, took my money (he did this himself, which you'd think any of his three assistants/secretaries could have handled), and I headed back to the DMV, as fast as I could make it (but not too fast--wouldn't want to get pulled over without a valid license).

Once again, they asked if I had made an appointment.  I guess that's what responsible people (like Big's daughter and wife) would do, but it hadn't even occurred to me.  Of course, I didn't even know where I'd be sleeping tonight, let alone that I'd be hitting the DMV again.  So I sat and read my book* until they called my number.  They said they had deleted the photo they took yesterday, when I'd combed my hair and worn a shirt I'd be happy to see over the next eight years, so they took another one, with messy hair and a yellow shirt I'm not particularly fond of, and I was able to pay to get my driver's license, just like we'd always talked about.

I went back home, ate some hot dogs (my tradition is to meet my cousin for lunch on Wednesdays, but he had a meeting and I had my appointment, so that got skipped this week), packed up a few things, then had to hit the storage unit (which I should've done at ten this morning, since I was only one street over), to drop off a big box, and by then it was raining so hard I hid in the unit until the hail turned back into rain again.  And then I was free to drive down south.

There was more heavy rain today, and something that upset me yesterday--and was repeated today--was that while I had to slow way down so as not to hydroplane on the standing water on the road, there were trucks who barreled down the freeway (and highway today) going at or above the speed limit, passing me by as though I were the asshole, shooting up high sprays of water in their attempts to get home and watch bowhunting videos or WWE.

It was dark pretty much the whole day, and even darker up here in the woods.  I almost didn't go to the dam, since I was sleepy and lethargic, but I have the tradition of going up there to check my texts and watch a YouTube video--which I know is insanely lame, but hey, you knew what I was when you picked me up--so I took off right before what would normally be sunset, but today, was just the time the clock said.  

There was no sun to set, only clouds in varying shades of grey, and by the time I got to the dam--

Oh, I meant to mention this, but forgot.  A tree had fallen and blocked the road, which I discovered on my way to the dam.  I got out and tried to move it, but it was too heavy for me to move**.  I might have been able to roll it out of the way, if I'd had to, but it was jammed in between other trees, so I just left it where it was, backed up my car, and managed to turn it around on the dirt (mud tonight) road and go back the other way.  

When I got to the dam, the owls were already hooting, so I made myself run from one end of the dam to the other, watch Seth Meyers, and headed back to the cabin.  It was probably not worth going there to begin with, but I do enjoy the little runs, even if it does nothing to extend my life or make me more palatable to other people.

I decided to record yet another story when I got back, but I was saddened to discover the old couple up the hill had their generator running, and it was loud enough I could hear it with the doors and windows closed, AND over the podcast I was listening to.  Around eleven, they shut their generator down (honestly, I'm surprised those bastards don't go to sleep at nine or ten, since they're invariably up and out on their porch when I get up to go to the bathroom around seven), and I went ahead and re-recorded the hors de combat line, but then it started raining again, including thunder, so I didn't record the M.R. James story I had been planning on doing tonight.  Maybe I can do it tomorrow.

Sit-ups Today: 111
Sit-ups In August: 1893

As enjoyable as running was/is to me, I did not want to do push-ups, and I absolutely didn't want to do sit-ups.  I said to myself, "Give me an effing break!  Just let me not have to do this shite for a single day!"  But hey, I forgot to do push-ups one day just last week, so I went ahead and did a few, the bare minimum, really, and there are definitely times that I don't know why I continue ANY of this, let alone the stupid exercise.

Schlong is a word I used to use all the time, especially back in college (because of this hilarious line "Sheldon, the Wonder Schlong" in WHEN HARRY MET SALLY...), but has completely fallen out of my vocabulary.  It's funny how words are like that.  I'm going to try to bring schlong back, use it in a sentence every day.

Words Today: 913
Words In August: 12,487

*"The Children of Men" by P.D. James, which I'm really enjoying, but the author keeps using three dollar words--which are utterly alien to me--and I try always to stop reading and look them up, even though I'll forget what they mean immediately, since most of them (like "apposite" and "anomie") will never appear before my eyes again.  Before I die, I mean.  You, sir, will live forever.

**I think two people could have lifted it, and three fairly easily, but one would've taken a truly impressive specimen like you to get it out of the way by himself.

August Sweeps - Day 563

Just tried to spell my least-favorite word again.*  The first try was "bueuero," which looks wrong even to me.  So, I deleted it and tried it again. beauro.  Nope, that's not right either.  How about buerau?  That one looks really close.

But nope, I don't know it.  I'll have to look it up--instead of wasting three minutes on it, like I already have.  Bureau, apparently.  Hmm.

Sit-ups Today: 111
Sit-ups In August: 1782

Speaking of unpleasant words, I came across the word/phrase hors de combat last week, and discovered, after recording it, that I'd mispronounced the damn thing.  I did not want to go back and re-record, especially since I was at the cabin when I did it, and it would not sound the same if I recorded it here (although who knows, maybe it would).  

So I put up a poll on my Patreon page (something I had intended to do every month or so, just asking amusing and/or self-deprecating questions), asking what I should do.  Here was the response:

I'm not sure if I'm going to the cabin this week or not.  But I'll tell you what: if I do, I'll re-record the line.  If not . . . well, I think I'll still re-record it.  It'll only take five minutes.

Push-ups Today: 209
Push-ups In August: 2102

One of my goals I'd set for August was to renew my driver's license, and today, I thought I'd do it, since the DMV was only a mile or so from the FedEx where I mailed off a package.  So, I drove over there, filled out the paperwork for a license renewal, and got in line to get it done.  To my displeasure, I was asked if I had made an appointment today, which hadn't occurred to me.  They told me someone had canceled theirs, so they could fit me in if I would sit down and wait for my number to be called.

I sat, and was immediately called up (I'd say I waited between twenty and thirty seconds, which is not typical according to the mythology of the DMV).  They took a photo of me, and processing the paperwork, asked me to take a vision test.  There was one letter that I absolutely could not make out, and it kept showing up on the test (it looked like a star, and I said, "It's a symbol of a star," but was told there were only letters).  To make matters worse, every O that showed up seemed like it might be a Q, so I said, "It's O or Q," then went on to the next letter.

I was told that that had been a mistake, because every time I'd said that it was marked incorrect, and I had failed the test.  I said, "Oh, okay, well, let me take it again and I'll just say one of the two," but I was told I had already failed, and had to either go get my reading glasses, or go to an opthometrist and have them sign a form that said I didn't need glasses to drive.  I was sent packing, and for a brief moment, I was afraid the guy was not going to give me back my (expired) driver's license.  I don't use it a lot, but it's good to have it, right.

I left, dejected, but I knew there was an eye doctor place in the next town north of the DMV, so I drove over there.

They too asked if I had an appointment, and when I said no, told me they were all full up, not just that day, but every day until Saturday.  I left, and called the Walmart by the freeway entrance, knowing they had an eyeglass center.  They said that the bad news was that an eye exam was sixty-nine dollars, but the good news was that they had a few appointments for tomorrow.

Normally, I go to the cabin on Wednesdays, but I made an appointment anyway because my usual attitude is not to do anything in cases like these, but to give up and feel sorry for myself upon hitting any minor obstacle.  They told me that I could still renew my license even without glasses, if the eye doctor filled out the form, because it takes time for glasses to come in.  So we'll see.

Words Today: 1311
Words In August: 11,574

*Okay, my least-favorite word is "facetious," but I can at least spell that mo-fo.

August Sweeps - Day 562

Speaking of "you know the type," on Sunday, I was at a red light behind a pickup truck with a big made-to-order sticker on the back that said "Fuck Around And Find Out," followed by the image of an AK-47.

Now, up till August of 2021, I thought the acronym FAFO was clever and cute, but not anymore.  The thing is, you can picture the owner of this vehicle the same as I do, and the image he projects and the image he thinks he projects are two different things.  To this guy, that sticker (and the idea that he loves guns and threating people with them) makes him appear to be a confident, tough, badass not to be messed with.  

But the truth is, that sticker just makes him look like an asshole.  And a pretentious one to boot.  

Hey, hey, before you get mad, I'm not saying that anyone with FAFO and the image of an assault weapon is an asshole.  I'm saying that EVERYONE with FAFO over that image is an asshole.  

Thank you.

Sit-ups Today: 141
Sit-ups In August: 1671

Push-ups Today: 66
Push-ups In August: 1893

Words Today: 1154
Words In August: 10,263

August Sweeps - Day 561

My nephew convinced me to take him fishing this afternoon, claiming I could get some writing done while he chased fish and frogs and turtles around.  There's an interesting phenomenon when it comes to him, that he sees turtles and frogs all the time, but I never see them, to the point that I wonder if they're really there.  Does he imagine these exciting animals?  If so, I never want the boy to go on a hunting trip.

There's so much smoke in the air from wildfires that it feels like it's getting dark hours early.  I'm sitting here on the bank of the river (which, at this juncture, is so shallow I walked all the way across it without getting my shorts wet), listening to the sounds of birds and crickets and cows and people out for walks.  A lot of them have dogs, and there's something I find romantic about that: going on a walk through the woods with your loyal dog at your side.

A lot of them have girlfriends too, which I suppose is similar.

My nephew has wandered off, now far enough away that I can barely see him.  I get incredibly paranoid about losing my laptop when I take it anywhere, and that's just sound evidence that I need to back up all the stories and podcasts that are on it.  Over a year of daily writing is sitting on this hard drive, and when I left it in the bushes to investigate the "three turtles" my nephew claimed to have discovered, I was super afraid that someone would grab it and run off, hoping to find tons of pictures of young Olivia Newton John on it.*

The last time I brought my computer here, I was working on the Dead & Breakfast novel, and was writing the bit where Mrs. Bice was telling Meeshelle about her childhood, growing up in a big, impressive house that was haunted from the day they built it.  That had to have been almost a year ago that I wrote that, yet that story isn't even close to being published, and it does make me wonder just what the deuce I've done with my ten or eleven months since then.

Ah well, on with the countdown.

Sit-ups Today: 111
Sit-ups In August: 1530

My cousin and I watched two more episodes of that show "Evil" I was telling you about, and I think I explained that there's a trio of three characters that investigate instances of demonic possession and such for the Catholic church.  One is a would-be priest, built like the kind of truck Optimus Prime transforms into: he believes that everything is God- and Devil-related.  One is a criminal psychologist, with four shrieking daughters: she has has an open mind, is willing to consider various explanations for what they encounter.  And the third is a techno-guy, an expert at engineering and computer programming: his job is to say that everything has a rational explanation.  The problem is: I hate this dynamic.  I've hated it since the second episode, and as the shows have gone on, I get super frustrated that all the things they've encountered have both a supernatural AND a rational explanation.  

For example, there's a truly sociopathic nine year old who has been attempting to murder members of his family, and he could either have a demon inside him (the show certainly leans that way) OR it could be that there's some kind of mineral deposits in the water, that are causing him to mentally deviate from the norm.  The episode ends (pretty impressively: the parents end up murdering their child because they can't take it anymore) with neither side of the argument triumphant.

And I hate that.  Take a stand, guys.  It's a much more interesting show if there are devils and escaped souls from Hell and an organization of demonic disciples set against them.  If it's just mentally ill people and hallucinations caused by lead paint in TV dinner trays, well, that's just a particularly interesting segment on "60 Minutes."

Push-ups Today: 208
Push-ups In August: 1827

Once it got dark, even though my nephew wanted to keep doing what he was doing, we walked back to the parking lot and headed for home.

I got some things put up for sale, made myself some rice and beans, watched John Oliver, and then, feeling ambitious, decided to--

Okay, that's a lie.  The thing is, around 12:45 or 1:00, the internet went out.  It was off on the computer and it was off on television (ESPN was literally the only channel available--the television wouldn't change channels or call up any On Demand, Saved, or currently-airing content.  

And so, I decided to finish recording "The Last Friday In December," the final story I was going to produce in audio before putting out my Dead & Breakfast collection.    I had intended to go through to the end, but you know how these things are--it took more than an hour to get four thousand words recorded, and I started to get sloppy, so I shut down and went to bed around two-thirty.

Not a lot of words, though.

Words Today: 300 (98 + 60 + 142)
Words In August: 9109

*You know the type.

August Sweeps - Day 560

It's Saturday, which means the library is closing early.  And I just got here, which means I shouldn't have stayed up till four watching "Rick and Morty" last night.  Ah well, live and learn.

Sit-ups Today: 100
Sit-ups In August: 1419

Push-ups Today: 50
Push-ups In August: 1619

I'm closer than ever to the end of my book.  I know that, logically, every time I work on it I should be closer than ever, but this is more literal than that.  I think, if I applied myself, I could have it done within the week.

Of course, it's not in such great shape right now.  It's meandering and probably full of redundant bits, and characters show up, seem significant, and are never mentioned again.  And there's the opposite example too, where at the beginning of the story, Holcomb mentions that Lara has an ally in the high school: a witch who has been de-aged to a teenager, attending the school undercover as well.  Lara can go to her for help and advice . . . except I forgot I'd written that bit until yesterday.

I COULD have Lara speak with her at the beginning, and then have her taken out of commission (either by an accident, or by magic, or hey, by death), so Lara's on her own.  That would be fairly easy to pull off.  But even easier would be just to cut that one sentence where she is mentioned, so there's nobody Lara can go to for help at all.

Words Today: 613
Words In July: 8809

August Sweeps - Day 559

Very warm today, over a hundred again.

I'm at the library, and I nearly set the goal of a thousand words today, just to Do It . . . but I've been here nearly an hour, and I'm only at 89 words for the day (and that's adding in little details in stretches where there's just back-and-forth dialogue).

I very rarely talk about my eBay sales, unless they go terribly, terribly wrong.  Today a strange thing happened, which I'll share simply because I don't want to write.  I accidentally sent a guy the wrong thing two or three weeks ago, and he wanted his money back.

Now, this sort of thing happens quite a bit.  I make a lot of mistakes, and one of the screw-ups I make too often is to mix up right and left ("You sent me a Left Leg, when what I ordered was the Right one!").  Well, that was the case here: I sent a right arm instead of a left one, and that was too bad, since the right arm is way more valuable than the left.

I paid to create a shipping label so the guy could return the arm, but it never arrived.  Today, eBay closed the dispute because he waited too long.  I guess that's fine (I still get his money, and I don't have to list the item again), but surely he checked to see what the right arm is going for and decided to hang on to it.  I can't blame him, really.

Oh, did I say this was a strange occurrence?  What I meant to say is, this happens all the time (probably one of three returns).  Sorry for wasting your time.

Sit-ups Today: 100
Sit-ups In August: 1319

I told myself I'd get a thousand words today, and you know what?  I actually accomplished a goal, for once.

As I was leaving the library--and I'd left it till the literal last minute--there was a security guard (the same one who didn't appreciate my story about the crazy dude sitting next to me a couple of weeks back) standing by the sliding glass doors, there to prevent people from entering, and only opening them to let people out.  As I got to the doors, a woman came up behind me, and exclaimed to the man, "I'm sorry, but I was afraid I was gonna shit my pants."

It seemed an odd thing to say, even though it was perfectly understandable.  I asked Big if he thought that was strange, and he agreed, though he said it might be more common in a place like Texas, where people say things more bluntly (and everything is bigger).

Push-ups Today: 207
Push-ups In August: 1569

After everyone had gone to bed, I discovered three unwatched episodes of "Rick and Morty," so I binged the EFF out of them, watching six or seven shows, ending with the Planetina episode, either the number one or number two best episode of the show.  The Planetina episode is so good, it makes THE EMPIRE STRIKES BACK look like A NIGHTMARE ON ELM STREET 5: THE DREAM CHILD.*

Words Today: 1307
Words In July: 8196

*Now, of course, that can't be true.  EMPIRE is the best movie ever, and fuck you for thinking differently.  ELM STREET 5 I saw a single time in 1989, and it could well be pretty good, or lame, I've never gone back to find out.

August Sweeps - Day 558

I did wake up once, before my alarm went off, but the sun was already up.  A real man (or woman!) would've gone to the computer, which was still awake on the table, and started working, but I went back to sleep instead.  I'm learning to live with a lot of things.

As far as editing goes, I'm just about finished with the audio to "Meet the New Clerk," the story about Meeshelle Lovett, and the ghost that she's so afraid of.  I've tried different techniques over the years, when doing ghost or demon voices.  My favorite is to copy the voice in a second track, then pitch one of them down, to make an unnatural reverberation, like when I do a Soundwave or Optimus Prime voice.

This time, though, I had, when I did the recording, voiced every one of the ghost's lines twice (or three times, or four times, or five times, or most oddly . . . once), so I could overlay two different versions of the line at the same time.  And it SORT OF works.  It sounds strange, sure, but the cadence is sometimes different, or the emphasis, and they don't sound as clear as when I just double it.  I lowered the volume of the second voice (the take I didn't like as much) way down, and put an echo on the louder one.  Then I went ahead and lowered the pitch on the second voice too, to have twice the audio effect on there.  I'm not sure if it will be effective (on a couple takes, I had to all but mute the second track, so you could understand the first one, which is meant to sound like a wet, droning, Jack Nicholson doing a Tennessee accent kind of thing).

I just finished the audiobook, and went on to the author's note (I wonder if anybody appreciates those the way I do--I always read them at the end of books, but am disappointed when it's just a list of people he's thanking, rather than an explanation of the book's origin or challenges), then discovered there was a file of relines, which I hadn't yet incorporated.  Well, back to the drawing board.

I went through the new lines, and it's all from the last bit of the story, long stretches of the same scene, but different performances on two different nights.  I didn't enjoy having to redo the ghost's lines, so I used the earlier ones where I could.  I can see why (in the far-off days of Spring 2021) I felt like I needed to strengthen the performance, add a bit more bravery instead of just fear.  It's almost as though there was a test screening (like I mentioned yesterday), and the notes said, "I'd like Meeshelle to show a bit more backbone, and call the ghost a name, just for the ladies in the audience."

I just finished it, and including the author's note, it's two hours and thirteen minutes.  That makes me proud, regardless of the shame I OUGHT to feel for having spent thirty-plus hours getting to those two hours.

Sit-ups Today: 111
Sit-ups In August: 1219

Last night, while I was exercising, I put on a really recent WWII Action movie called MIDWAY (I had tried to watch it a week ago, but something was wrong with the disc, and I grabbed a second copy from the library--they had three).  It has a lot of the ultra-modern swagger and douchebaggery that you find in movies post-FAST & THE FURIOUS, and that made me like it a hell of a lot less, and at one point (right in the middle of some wholly-convincing aerial dogfights), I paused it and decided to go downstairs and record another short story for a future episode.

The one I picked was Bram Stoker's "The Squaw," which I had heard people talk about in the past as being pretty horrific.  And wow, it is so grim and grisly that, despite three or four archaic terms, you'd never guess it was from a hundred years ago.  I'm not sure I will run it on the show, though--it's super unpleasant.

I did eventually go back to the movie.  And it was . . . alright, I guess.  Roland Emmerich was the director, so everything was competently done (the special effects were so top-notch, I never felt like I was watching computer-generated planes, not once), but the movie did nothing for me.

I remember, when Big Anklevich first saw HIGHLANDER, that he referred to Christopher Lambert as "the least-likeable lead actor in a movie" he'd ever seen.  Of course, that was years before Ed Skrein showed up in MIDWAY.

Push-ups Today: 0 (yep, I blew it--my nephew was having a sleepover in the living room, and instead of doing push-ups in my room, or out on the lawn, or in my neighbor's daughter's window well, I just forgot about them)
Push-ups In August: 1362 (darn, sit-ups almost took the lead!)

At one point, I went out onto the back deck, set up my father's chair, and grabbed my library book to read.  The sun was shining directly on the deck, and it was like sitting in front of a fireplace.  I very nearly said, "Screw it," and went back inside to do something else, the heat was so unpleasant.  But I got a drink and my last donut (I only brought two this visit, which I'm sure my waistline thanks me for), and told myself I'd at least read a chapter before going back inside.  

But after being out there a few minutes, the sun hid itself behind the tops of the trees, and everything became much more pleasant.  In fact, I'd say the weather was absolutely perfect.  And as I kept reading, a multitude of woodland animals came out to play.  Mostly, they were tiny, a squirrel, a flock of finches, then a big woodchuck that looked at me with venom, and darted away faster than you'd think possible.  The birds were delightful in that they would land atop a flower, and the weight of them would cause the stem to dip down, like some kind of bungee jumping activity.  A few minutes later, I heard a hawk cry, and I looked into the sky, and right above me, two hawks were circling together.  "Good for you, buddy," I said, presuming it to be the one I'd watched and heard calling the night before.

A big female deer came by after that, and I kept reading, but was surprised by how close she got to me.  Every time I turned a page, or took a sip of Coke Zero, she would freeze from eating the plants which are absolutely everywhere right now, then would go back when I didn't make a threatening move.  I got my phone out, and she didn't seem to bothered by that.

Before I knew it, it had been ninety minutes I'd been out there reading--and it went by in a flash, like when you fall asleep and wonder where the time went.  I let myself go a full two hours before finally saying, "Okay, I guess I should go do something now."  But before I did, I contemplated the fact that this leisurely sit amid nature was something that city folks might pay a thousand dollars to experience.  And all it cost me was a quarter tank of gas.

Once again, the time has come to pack things up and head for home.  And once again, there is the sad end-of-summer melancholy.  This is my nephews' last full week of vacation, and it has really upset the oldest one, who is afraid of having to go back to school and compete with other kids and such.  I pity him, but I also envy him, because he's got so much life ahead of him, some good, some bad, but almost all of it new.

I have written exactly nothing today, and that is disheartening.  I feel like we've reached the end of this little experiment, and while it must end, it's been a good one, both fun and a real drag, and I'm proud that I managed it, at least once in my life.  It's not exactly climbing Mount Everest, or swimming the English Channel, or sleeping with two honey blonde sisters, but it's something.

I came home fairly late, absolutely NOT wanting to leave (my brother and I are supposed to help my mom clean up her yard tomorrow morning, as she's hired some workmen to cut down the backyard trees, and who knows what that will entail, except that it's at eight in the morning), and drove home in the semi-dark, afraid of deer the whole darn way.

Then, even though it was getting late and I hadn't written more than a sentence, I went on my run, craving that endorphin rush that I get (most times) when I get home.  Eventually, I did sit down to write, and inched ever closer to the end of the book.  At one point, I punched my output into the Word Counter program, and I was at--EXACTLY--666 words.

So I left it at that, forgetting that I had written thirty words earlier in the day, so there was no reason to stop there.  Whoops.

Words Today: 696
Words In July: 6889

August Sweeps - Day 557

Here I sit, in my chair at the table at the cabin, a light breeze blowing through the windows.  It was eighty degrees outside when I pulled up, which is quite hot for up here.*  Of course, it is August, traditionally the hottest month, and that's bound to affect everywhere at once.

I have disappointed myself in how little I've written this month, especially considering we're a third of the way through August (and my goal for the month--and last month--was to finish "When You Need It Most"), and I keep thinking that if I were to either 1) finish my novel, or 2) stop writing daily altogether, that I could shift my focus to something else, like publishing or video editing, or just not giving a crap about personal creativity and catching up on some good old-fashioned television.

But darn it, I just had an idea for a guy who does the self-checkout at the grocery store, and when he scans an item, a strange message comes up on the machine, one that has nothing to do with buying Band-Aids and potato chips.

By the way, click on THIS LINK for a real-life horror story concerning the self-checkout.

Sit-ups Today: 100
Sit-ups In August: 1108

The water was off, of course, when I got here, but I had forgotten that when I went to use the bathroom, and was unable to wash my hands.**  Later, when I did turn the water on, so much pressure had built up in the upstairs pipes that when I turned on the faucet again, it made a loud, spraying, hissing sound that scared the Sy Snoodles out of me.  

***

Less than five minutes later, I went to the kitchen sink to get a drink of water, and that faucet ALSO made a loud hissing sound when I turned it on . . . but it only scared me a little bit (say, the Max Rebo out of me), because the last scare had been so recent.  It made me think of horror movies, and how I really wanted to make them, and see what kinds of scares work and what kinds don't, and figure out why.  

I remember that Steven Spielberg talked about when they were test screening the initial cut of JAWS, and how it didn't have the Ben Gardner's head scare in it (Richard Dreyfus goes under the water, and the dead man is just there, in the hole of the boat), and he got it into his head that that was a wasted opportunity, and asked Universal if he could have ten grand to reshoot it, to add one more scare into the middle of the movie.  They said no, since it was already over budget and the studio was so mad at him they'd threatened to fire him multiple times, but couldn't because nobody else was willing to step in and finish the disaster of a movie.

So, on Spielberg's own dime, he got a cameraman and a lighting guy, and shot the scene himself in his own swimming pool, pouring all sorts of junk into the water to make it milky and gritty, and using the Ben Gardner dummy head he'd gotten out of props.  He shot it so there's darkness in the hole of the boat, Richard Dreyfus puts his hand on the wood, and the movement makes the dead man's' head float down into frame.  

Spielberg cut it back into the film, and they test screened it again a couple of days later . . . and that got a HUGE scream from the audience, much to the director's delight.  However, the reveal of the shark later in the film (the Brody throwing chum scene) didn't get as big a reaction from the crowd because they were now waiting for something else to jump out at them.  He said that, while he left the head reveal in the final cut, it was a lesson he learned, that adding something new can also take away from what you have.

Apropos of nothing, sorry, but I just couldn't stop thinking about it after the back-to-back sink scares.  

But walking around the cabin as the shadows are lengthening, I was thinking (as I usually do) about things that would be scary to see out here (top of the list--ALWAYS--is an old woman's face looking in one of the windows.  Not sure why I always go back to that.  Maybe it's a fetish), and when I went out on the deck to figure out what kind of animal was making an annoying call I could hear over the audio editing, a hummingbird flew right up by my face, making that propeller-like buzzing sound, and got a darn fine scare out of me.  This is gonna be a spooky one, I imagine.

Push-ups Today: 207
Push-ups In August: 1362

Right before the sun set, I heard an interesting bird call outside, and went out to investigate.  Atop one of the dead trees by one of the (five or six) woodpiles, was a hawk, just hanging out, its head turning this way and that, like an owl's.  Every thirty seconds or so, it would let out this interesting, high-pitched call, and waited for a response.  I never heard one.  

I tried to take a picture of it--almost desperately--but none could capture any details.  Inside the cabin are a pair of binoculars that belonged to my dad, so I grabbed them and watched the bird for a couple of minutes.  It occurred to me that I haven't used the camera my uncle gave me this whole year, and it surely would've zoomed in far enough to give you a nice photo.  I resolve to bring it with me next time I come, and just leave it up here.  Of course, I resolve to do a lot of things, and that don't mean they get done.

Marshal Latham mentioned in his most recent podcast that he's the only person at the plant where he works that knows how to do his job, so he's almost never able to take vacations.  That seems kind of fascinating to me--to be so important that nobody can do what you do.  I'm whatever the opposite of that is (expendable, I guess you'd call it).

Words Today: 732
Words In August: 6193

*It got to eighty-five a couple of weeks ago, and plants started to die, let alone the billions of gnats I told you about--I still can't think of any other reason why they would have all died at the same time, unless there was a Jim Jones-type among them.

 **Or, if you prefer, I found a can of peanuts from 2017 under the seat of my car, brought it in, and found them not only stale, but super-greasy, and went into the bathroom to wash it off my hands.  Both details are true.

***I did a search for "Scary Fawcett" (accidentally misspelling it) and this is what came up:

August Sweeps - Day 556

I'm really dedicated to writing today, having come to the library twenty minutes early (well, I wasted five minutes getting a soda on the way, but I hope you'll allow me at least the number of indulgences of an obese sheik in the desert somewhere).  The first thing I did was open "Hatchling," which I had set in the same town as "Into The Furnace," only to realize that I had accidentally set it in the same town as "Birth of a Sidekick" instead.  I made a couple of changes, switching Trueno to Bendo's Furnace, and the school mascot from the Lightning to the Firebirds.  The last change I needed to make was to replace Arizona with New Mexico . . . but I didn't.  I figure that Bendo's Furnace, New Mexico became Bendo's Furnace, Arizona when New Mexico Territory stopped being a territory.

I don't know how much it matters--the towns are made up anyway.

Regardless, I really like that story "Hatchling," and I ought to get it published, before the end of the year, or before you and I are both dead.  Sooner than you think, Grandpa, sooner than you think.

Gosh, that reminds me, I sat down to record the second half of "The Last Friday In December," the next Dead & Breakfast story on my list, two days ago, and I got to one of those ____ bits in the narrative.  Oftentimes, I'll insert a blank line when I'm writing so I don't get distracted and stop writing because I'm trying to figure out a name or location instead of continuing the narrative.  It's then up to me, months or years later, to figure out what goes in the blank space.

Yes, I went there.

In this case, it was a blank for the town in the Dead & Breakfast stories where the hospital is.  I talked to Marshal Latham about it one time, since he actually lives in Idaho, and I believe he suggested the hospital be in a town called Nampa.

Of course, I had forgotten this, and didn't know how to scan the previous stories for a town I had forgotten the name of.  Finally, I just made up another city name, this one named after another co-worker I was friends with at the job that I named a lot of the characters and details after when I wrote the first story ("True Ghost Encounter"), but probably have never named anybody after before.

I also had this same damned problem when I referenced the overnight housekeeper at Noble Oaks Bed & Breakfast, though all I had to do there was search for "housekeeper" in the various stories until I found her.  

The point is, though, after all this, I had eaten up almost an hour of free, quiet recording time, for a chapter that will be, once edited, only ten to fifteen minutes long.  And then, my nephews got back from fishing, and man, that was all she wrote.  This is why I can't have nice things, folks.

Sit-ups Today: 75 (sorry, somebody was sleeping on the couch when I got home from my cousin's, and I didn't dare sneak in more exercise)
Sit-ups In August: 1008

Still at the library, though the shadows are getting long outside.  There are seven people up here with me, and if I EVER finish this gosh-darn novel (sorry about the language, guys), I'd like to write a bunch of quick and easy short stories, maybe one about a bunch of people trapped at the library when the aliens (or zombies, or Great Old Ones, or giant tarantulas) come.  I love stories like that, don't you?

Unfortunately, I got distracted (what else is new?) and started looking over old posts of my blog, and that killed an hour.  An hour closer to death, I am, and have only managed 70 words today.

But hey, I'll get to at least 500, come hell or slightly-yellow water, you'll see.

Push-ups Today: 50
Push-ups In August: 1155

My sister has a big house at the end of a block in the town the Lara and the Witch sequels take place in.  And she has what she refers to as a potato room--but I refer to as a crawlspace--underneath her kitchen and living room, which is a dark, cramped section of the house not tall enough to stand up in, but perfect for putting Christmas decorations and winter clothes and deformed children . . . until you need them.

My sister never goes down there, but has been generous with me to store old action figures and such.  Really, almost everybody has been generous to let me store my thousands of figures in various places.  It's a sickness, I'm beginning to suspect.

So, the other day, my mother freaked out about the number of boxes I was keeping in her basement (which is understandable), and demanded that I get them out of there, either by renting a larger storage unit (not a bad idea, though I have upgraded once already), or a grand bonfire in the desert somewhere.  So, trying to be proactive, I loaded up ten boxes (might have been eleven, might have been nine) and took them to my sister's house, to put down in the crawlspace.

And the lights were out down there.

So, using the light feature of my phone, I pushed each one of those boxes into the back of the crawlspace, trying not to focus on the darkness all around me, the shadows that could be hiding just about anything.  

I want to write a story about this . . . but did I mention my sister insists on calling it "The Potato Room?"

Words Today: 550
Words In August: 5461

Seriously, she told me I could only bring more boxes over if I agreed to call it the potato room instead of tHe cRaWLsPaCe.

Rish Outcast 203: Steve King Already Did It

So, in this episode, I talk about a Stephen King story that's eerily similar to a couple of mine, and then present the lengthy poem "Rime of the Ancient Mariner."

To download the episode, just Right-Click HERE.

To support me on Patreon, click HERE.

Logo by Gino "Early Middle-Aged Mariner" Moretto.

August Sweeps - Day 555

Man, I love numbers like the above one.  555.  It feeds my low-level OCD, which I probably mentioned on the 444th blogpost and the 333rd.

I haven't updated my blog in days.  And that's bad.  It's been a year and a half, every single day, writing down my word count and my sit-ups and at least some boring detail about my day.  But these last few days, it has been achievement enough just to write something, let alone get a thousand words written AND blog about it.

But that's okay.  I think it's fine to just put up a post like this every once in a while:

Sit-ups Today: 111
Sit-ups In August: 933

Push-ups Today: 50
Push-ups In August: 1105

Words Today: 291
Words In August: 4911