I love audio imagery.
Don't get me wrong, I appreciate video imagery as well. Video is such an integral part of our fabric that without it, things would be incredibly drab. I am grateful for video, because video has from time to time, inspired my creativity to the point where I've written stories like this and this.
But whereas video is the solid foundation to whatever story I write, audio is the material and driving force to the story itself.
For instance, I live across the street from my blog's title, and while the view can be inspiring and breathtaking at times, it's the sound that gets the ball rolling. I could step out on my back porch on a Saturday or Sunday morning and simply inhale the early morning beauty of the mountain, but what really makes me weld a pen and paper, is not the outside beauty of the mountain but the interior beauty of the mountain.
Flocks of birds or even a singular bird chirping and singing. The wind blowing through the mountain and the gentle roar of the branches and leaves swaying in the breeze. Or sometimes, the complete lack of noise as the mountain stands there napping in a quiet solitude.
Not only do the sounds of the mountain influence my writing, but the sounds of my neighborhood and radio greatly inspire my writing as well. I can say that about 95% of the stories, either published or upcoming on FSG, have gotten their inspiration from music, with the remaining 5% split between the sounds from the neighborhood and the occasional video.
Most of that 5% is contained in just three upcoming stories on FSG:
1} Creativity Inaction. Inspired by a headache, a chainsaw, a young lady in a sandwich shop, a dept collector and a live sex show.
2} Red Strip. Inspired by a supermarket cashier dressed up for Halloween.
3} A Desirable Image. Inspired by a piece of flash fiction that was originally inspired by a co-worker.
However, the stories that were inspired by music are as diverse as the songs that inspired them. The artists that inspired them range from old school punk (The Ramones) to power pop/rock (Train) to hard rock (Saliva and Nickelback).
But there are two songs that have inspired such intense audio imagery that they've formed the foundation of what I currently write.
Saliva's Your Disease. This song has created such an intense and long lasting imprint in my mind, that it became the basis for several stories. To whit, the entire collection of stories that made up the long story "Persona Non Grata", were inspired by this one song. A lot of the items that peppered the story (the desert, the arrogant biker chick mentality and dark sibling relationship) are a direct result of this song.
The Hooters Boys of Summer. The original version of this song by Don Henley didn't do diddly for me. This version, with its stripped down beat and simple mandolin accompaniment, has created a permanent tattoo in my brain. Specifically, the image of that girl in the song has created the foundation of what my current output has been.
To whit, that one song originally inspired a short story called The Beach, which in turn inspired a sequel called The Sand. After writing that second story, it inspired me to write a story about a woman who was turned into a minion for one of Lucifer's minions. With that same image of the girl, it contributed to the aforementioned "A Desirable Image" and was the driving force behind my current novel "Line 21".
Final tally is two short stories, a medium short story and one novel. All of which originated from the one song.
The ability of two songs to generate almost ten stories between them is something truly remarkable, and I have no doubt that those two songs will continue to inspire and generate stories from my mind and my pen for many months to come.
So what about you? In what way does audio imagery factor into your creative output? A lot, a little or somewhere in between?
Monday, May 31, 2010
Thursday, May 27, 2010
May 27, 1965
It was a gloriously sunny day as our intrepid hero stepped out from his backyard and gazed in a southerly direction down the road.The breeze was gently wafting down from the mountain as the sunlight danced between the trees, leaving cool shadows and a warm road to partake and enjoy.
A red crested robin appeared in the sky and descended from the heavens in a series of slow half circles, coming to rest on our intrepid hero's outstretched hand. He brings the robin up to his ear and it sings a soft yet haunting melody.
When the last few notes subside, the robin bows his head and takes flight. Our intrepid hero watches the robin soar to the heavens until it disappears from sight.
With a smile on his lips and bounce in his step, he takes off in that same southerly direction that he was looking at only moments ago.
sigh
Let us think of the joyous moment of today and of the memory of those who brought us joy and are no longer here walking the highways and byways of life.
Today is my birthday. I am now exactly halfway between 40 & 50.
That is our joyous moment of today.
On May 27th, 2000, Charles M. Schulz was posthumously honored by the cartoonists of 42 comic strips paying homage to him and the Peanuts comic strip. This particular tribute moved me to tears when I read it that day. If you can find it in an old copy of a large daily from that day, you'll see what I mean.
That is my memory of one of many who had brought me joy during my 45 years on this big blue marble we call Earth.
My good friends and readers, starting tomorrow, yours truly is taking a well deserved birthday break from blogging and will spend the next few days enjoying the good weather and decompressing from the various stresses of the work week. Have a fantastic Memorial Day weekend (for those of you from the states. if not, have a fantastic weekend just the same) and I shall see you back here on Monday.
Music of choice is one of my dad's favorite songs, and it's one of mine too. Strangely enough, it's one of the few that I can do an above decent singalong to: Country Roads by John Denver.
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
Monday, May 24, 2010
Grab A Piece Of Dirt And Make Yourself Comfortable By The Campfire
On May 24, 2008 @ precisely 2:44p, the very first post to Cedar's Mountain was made. Suffice to say, the blogging world has never been the same since.
I was try to figure out how to goof off during this particular week (May 23rd-29th) in blog land. I say goof off, because this during this week two very important events are taking place. One is the two year anniversary of this blog, and the other is my birthday.
So.
One of the brilliant ideas I came up with (besides this post) was to give my other two blogs a week off from work as well, so for this week, neither Shooting Suburbia or Flashing Georgie's Shorts will be oozing with fresh material. The other brilliant idea was to simply run amok on this blog making unbalanced and off the wall posts.
Whereas I can make unbalanced and off the wall posts, running amok will be much harder to execute.
Because I find it so hard to run amok in my old age, I'll just settle for stumbling down that cobweb-encrusted-dust-bunny-multiplying-pothole-infested roadway that is my memory this week.
And.
Goofing.
Off.
I was try to figure out how to goof off during this particular week (May 23rd-29th) in blog land. I say goof off, because this during this week two very important events are taking place. One is the two year anniversary of this blog, and the other is my birthday.
So.
One of the brilliant ideas I came up with (besides this post) was to give my other two blogs a week off from work as well, so for this week, neither Shooting Suburbia or Flashing Georgie's Shorts will be oozing with fresh material. The other brilliant idea was to simply run amok on this blog making unbalanced and off the wall posts.
Whereas I can make unbalanced and off the wall posts, running amok will be much harder to execute.
Because I find it so hard to run amok in my old age, I'll just settle for stumbling down that cobweb-encrusted-dust-bunny-multiplying-pothole-infested roadway that is my memory this week.
And.
Goofing.
Off.
Sunday, May 23, 2010
Twinkletoes Ted (4)
My friends, we are slowly coming to the end of our adventure in the chasing of Twinkletoes Ted.
Again, I reiterate, please, please, please, slap some smarts back into my head, should I ever verbalize the idea about writing a short story to pictures.
Please enjoy this latest installment of Twinkletoes Ted.
Oh, and my sincerest apologies for the Blog Catalog button. Had to stick it on so as to verify ownership. As soon as it's accepted by Blog Catalog, it will go bye-bye.
Again, I reiterate, please, please, please, slap some smarts back into my head, should I ever verbalize the idea about writing a short story to pictures.
Please enjoy this latest installment of Twinkletoes Ted.
Oh, and my sincerest apologies for the Blog Catalog button. Had to stick it on so as to verify ownership. As soon as it's accepted by Blog Catalog, it will go bye-bye.
Friday, May 21, 2010
Watch It Bub, I Got The Earwax Out
The English language.
In the hands of someone with minimal brain cells, makes sense twenty-five percent of the time and makes one scratch their head the other seventy-five percent of the time.
In the hands of someone with lots of brain cells, makes sense one hundred percent of the time and allows the person to insert entire leg into mouth in ways too numerous to mention, but we're sure gonna try.
For those of you who had read my profile all those many, many, many, many months ago, one of the things that I brag about is this: I also have, what has been often referred to by both my friends and enemies, "a sharpness of tongue." Which basically means that I can dish it out on a very personal level if need be.
Which really means that I can offend people with my mouth without thinking thrice about it.
Case in point. I have a habit of using seriously offensive terms to stereotype people from time to time, and I make no bones about it, because for the most part, I am not politically correct (although the only concession I've made to that point is the term "developmentally disabled"). I do try, however, to be conscious of my surroundings, and so censor myself when the situation calls for it.
On more than one occasion, I've had to apologize for my poor choice of words because a particular someone whom I respected took offense to it. Sometimes the apology is accepted and nothing more is thought about it, and sometimes, the apology is accepted but the damage done can't quite be undone. But it hasn't stopped me from using it though. On the contrary, I now confine those particular phrases in question to either my short stories, or the occasional humorous stories between co-workers (whose real life experiences have shown me that there are people who are actually like that in the world today).
But for the most part, I try not to use them in my blog posts, because although I do have a mouth that oozes witty sarcasm to the nth degree, sometimes using a thesaurus is better than using those phrases.
Sometimes.
On the times that I felt the need to get my point across by using those particular phrases as opposed to using a thesaurus, I had to come up with a way of letting my readers know that the post they were going to read was chock full of offensive language.
Thus, the disclaimer (click here for an example). Early on, I used a disclaimer for some of the more volatile posts that have made it from my brain to the computer screen, because while I normally don't use that kind of language while blogging, there was the need to give people the option of opting out from reading the post.
After a while, I stopped using the disclaimer, simply because I stopped using that kind of foul language in my blog posts (except in my short story blog, where I stuck one of those funky pages in that you have to answer yes to, in order to access it). But sometimes, it's good to resurrect the disclaimer, because although I do enjoy making people think, I don't want them to think about what I write for the wrong reasons. I rather have them think about the content, as opposed to a particular word or phrase.
How about you? Do you practice the art of self censorship to any kind of degree on your blog? Or do you say, "This is how I am, take it or leave it"?
In the hands of someone with minimal brain cells, makes sense twenty-five percent of the time and makes one scratch their head the other seventy-five percent of the time.
In the hands of someone with lots of brain cells, makes sense one hundred percent of the time and allows the person to insert entire leg into mouth in ways too numerous to mention, but we're sure gonna try.
For those of you who had read my profile all those many, many, many, many months ago, one of the things that I brag about is this: I also have, what has been often referred to by both my friends and enemies, "a sharpness of tongue." Which basically means that I can dish it out on a very personal level if need be.
Which really means that I can offend people with my mouth without thinking thrice about it.
Case in point. I have a habit of using seriously offensive terms to stereotype people from time to time, and I make no bones about it, because for the most part, I am not politically correct (although the only concession I've made to that point is the term "developmentally disabled"). I do try, however, to be conscious of my surroundings, and so censor myself when the situation calls for it.
On more than one occasion, I've had to apologize for my poor choice of words because a particular someone whom I respected took offense to it. Sometimes the apology is accepted and nothing more is thought about it, and sometimes, the apology is accepted but the damage done can't quite be undone. But it hasn't stopped me from using it though. On the contrary, I now confine those particular phrases in question to either my short stories, or the occasional humorous stories between co-workers (whose real life experiences have shown me that there are people who are actually like that in the world today).
But for the most part, I try not to use them in my blog posts, because although I do have a mouth that oozes witty sarcasm to the nth degree, sometimes using a thesaurus is better than using those phrases.
Sometimes.
On the times that I felt the need to get my point across by using those particular phrases as opposed to using a thesaurus, I had to come up with a way of letting my readers know that the post they were going to read was chock full of offensive language.
Thus, the disclaimer (click here for an example). Early on, I used a disclaimer for some of the more volatile posts that have made it from my brain to the computer screen, because while I normally don't use that kind of language while blogging, there was the need to give people the option of opting out from reading the post.
After a while, I stopped using the disclaimer, simply because I stopped using that kind of foul language in my blog posts (except in my short story blog, where I stuck one of those funky pages in that you have to answer yes to, in order to access it). But sometimes, it's good to resurrect the disclaimer, because although I do enjoy making people think, I don't want them to think about what I write for the wrong reasons. I rather have them think about the content, as opposed to a particular word or phrase.
How about you? Do you practice the art of self censorship to any kind of degree on your blog? Or do you say, "This is how I am, take it or leave it"?
Monday, May 17, 2010
Where's G?
On May 16th @ 6:30p the unthinkable happened.
My Internet crashed and burned.
After 3 hours worth of phone calls today to AT&T, I should be up and running sometime tomorrow (Tuesday) night.
Until then, hang tight and keep having a spectacular week, because you know that the world does indeed revolve around you.
Tonights post is brought to you by the Newington Public Library, where if you need anything like yesterday, chances are that they'll have it.
Like a computer with Internet access.
My Internet crashed and burned.
After 3 hours worth of phone calls today to AT&T, I should be up and running sometime tomorrow (Tuesday) night.
Until then, hang tight and keep having a spectacular week, because you know that the world does indeed revolve around you.
Tonights post is brought to you by the Newington Public Library, where if you need anything like yesterday, chances are that they'll have it.
Like a computer with Internet access.
Ummm....Taxi?
Note: I actually nuked this post the day I wrote it (May 9th), but before I did, something told me to save it as a word document, just in case....
Since I'm hip deep in doing the....yeech...editing of my manuscript and thus really don't have the brain cells to comp up with an original short story idea (well, yeah, I do have the brain cells, they're just occupied with other pleasantries at the moment), I thought I would make an attempt at rewriting one of my old short stories for FSG.
So.
I took it out, dusted off the footprints and shooed away the dust bunnies, and began reading it, with the faint hope of trying to figure out what the hell I wrote.
Yah.
Boy am I in trouble.
First off, let me say this: Charles, your student's bad/atrocious/lazy writing ain't got nothing on this twenty page collection of nouns, verbs, adjectives, adverbs, misplaced and non-existent grammar that came from my pen in 2006. I dare say your class would have a field day in finding all of the atrocious errors contained in this story and hard pressed to find something good.
Secondly, while I may have had an inkling as to what the plot was when I wrote it four years ago, that inkling has all but vanished. Clueless in Connecticut one might say.
However, the news isn't all doom and gloom (cliched I know, so sue me) because I did manage to find a few small seedlings poking their collective heads up through the muck and filth.;
While the prose is indeed horrific, this story did contain rudimentary elements that were to become prevalent themes throughout much of my story writing.
1} Soul music. I became a decent fan of 70's soul/funk music quite late in my life. I say late, because I never fully appreciated that music until I got serious about writing. I started using soul & funk as scene settings because I found that it played the whole emotional spectrum of Love like no other.
While this story refers to Donny Hathaway, other stories make use of artists like the Chi-Lites, E.W.F. and Minnie Riperton. What it boils down to is that to me, soul & funk are one of the tools that I try to use to make that particular emotional aspect of my writing (Love) come alive.
2} Sex. This story features my first decent attempt at using sex in a non-hardcore way. Because I decided to use soul music as a scene setting, I wanted to have the characters do something that would compliment the music. So this story features the first appearance of the sensual massage. Even though it came off incredibly clunky, at the very least it gave me a decent alternative to the "wham, bam, thank you ma'am." that my writing was featuring at that time.
3) Interracial. By now, most of you have probably been able to figure out from reading Flashing Georgie's Shorts, that the majority of the male/female and female/female couplings, along with the singular female in those stories, feature women of color. I'm not really sure on how that came about, other than probably the women that I do know and that I respect, and ones that I'm friends with, are of color. Because I found these women to be the total package of today's modern woman, they became from the get-go, my steady role models for nearly all of the female characters that I've written in the past four years.
Overall, reading this story was a fascinating trip through time, simply because I was able to see the rudimentary beginnings of what were going to be the major components of my writing. Even though the initial attempts at using those elements in this story were clunky, with practice and patience, I grew more comfortable in not only using those basic elements, but expanding on those basic elements as well.
One last point: I said earlier that I had no inkling on what the plot was for this story. After giving it some careful thought (and re-reading the story ten times), I still have no clue on what the thing was about. However, while sitting outside on break at work on a cold windy day last week contemplating just exactly what this story was about, I spied a small note on the first page that said, retitle Casual Conversation (original title is Taxi!). So I'm gonna take that particular nugget and pound on it until it screams and hopefully, it will turn out to be something that I would be proud to admit to ownership off.
Because quite frankly, I don't want to admit ownership to this story as it currently stands.
Since I'm hip deep in doing the....yeech...editing of my manuscript and thus really don't have the brain cells to comp up with an original short story idea (well, yeah, I do have the brain cells, they're just occupied with other pleasantries at the moment), I thought I would make an attempt at rewriting one of my old short stories for FSG.
So.
I took it out, dusted off the footprints and shooed away the dust bunnies, and began reading it, with the faint hope of trying to figure out what the hell I wrote.
Yah.
Boy am I in trouble.
First off, let me say this: Charles, your student's bad/atrocious/lazy writing ain't got nothing on this twenty page collection of nouns, verbs, adjectives, adverbs, misplaced and non-existent grammar that came from my pen in 2006. I dare say your class would have a field day in finding all of the atrocious errors contained in this story and hard pressed to find something good.
Secondly, while I may have had an inkling as to what the plot was when I wrote it four years ago, that inkling has all but vanished. Clueless in Connecticut one might say.
However, the news isn't all doom and gloom (cliched I know, so sue me) because I did manage to find a few small seedlings poking their collective heads up through the muck and filth.;
While the prose is indeed horrific, this story did contain rudimentary elements that were to become prevalent themes throughout much of my story writing.
1} Soul music. I became a decent fan of 70's soul/funk music quite late in my life. I say late, because I never fully appreciated that music until I got serious about writing. I started using soul & funk as scene settings because I found that it played the whole emotional spectrum of Love like no other.
While this story refers to Donny Hathaway, other stories make use of artists like the Chi-Lites, E.W.F. and Minnie Riperton. What it boils down to is that to me, soul & funk are one of the tools that I try to use to make that particular emotional aspect of my writing (Love) come alive.
2} Sex. This story features my first decent attempt at using sex in a non-hardcore way. Because I decided to use soul music as a scene setting, I wanted to have the characters do something that would compliment the music. So this story features the first appearance of the sensual massage. Even though it came off incredibly clunky, at the very least it gave me a decent alternative to the "wham, bam, thank you ma'am." that my writing was featuring at that time.
3) Interracial. By now, most of you have probably been able to figure out from reading Flashing Georgie's Shorts, that the majority of the male/female and female/female couplings, along with the singular female in those stories, feature women of color. I'm not really sure on how that came about, other than probably the women that I do know and that I respect, and ones that I'm friends with, are of color. Because I found these women to be the total package of today's modern woman, they became from the get-go, my steady role models for nearly all of the female characters that I've written in the past four years.
Overall, reading this story was a fascinating trip through time, simply because I was able to see the rudimentary beginnings of what were going to be the major components of my writing. Even though the initial attempts at using those elements in this story were clunky, with practice and patience, I grew more comfortable in not only using those basic elements, but expanding on those basic elements as well.
One last point: I said earlier that I had no inkling on what the plot was for this story. After giving it some careful thought (and re-reading the story ten times), I still have no clue on what the thing was about. However, while sitting outside on break at work on a cold windy day last week contemplating just exactly what this story was about, I spied a small note on the first page that said, retitle Casual Conversation (original title is Taxi!). So I'm gonna take that particular nugget and pound on it until it screams and hopefully, it will turn out to be something that I would be proud to admit to ownership off.
Because quite frankly, I don't want to admit ownership to this story as it currently stands.
Sunday, May 16, 2010
Twinkletoes Ted
Yup.
It's time for part three of our little adventure about Twinkletoes Ted.
This time, I didn't get carried away with the story, because quite frankly, I was starting to get vapor lock while writing it.
Hope you enjoy this latest chapter.
One more thing: The next time yours truly verbalizes the idea of creating another picture story, please, please, please, please walk up to him, or in this case, leave a comment saying, "DON'T DO THAT!!!!" and give him the proverbial slap upside his bald little head.
It's time for part three of our little adventure about Twinkletoes Ted.
This time, I didn't get carried away with the story, because quite frankly, I was starting to get vapor lock while writing it.
Hope you enjoy this latest chapter.
One more thing: The next time yours truly verbalizes the idea of creating another picture story, please, please, please, please walk up to him, or in this case, leave a comment saying, "DON'T DO THAT!!!!" and give him the proverbial slap upside his bald little head.
Friday, May 14, 2010
Brain Rot
Inspiration for blog title was found at the temporarily closed blog I Am Hopeless
Hey guys, ever had this happen to you?*
You're in a small mixed group of people and a friend asks why you look so glum.
"Oh, I'm debating whether or not to break up with my girl."
"How come?"
"We have nothing in common, and we constantly argue and fight about the stupidest things."
"So break up with her."
"I would, but she gives such fantastic head."
Hey gals, ever had this happen to you?
"Hey Denise, how did your blind date go last night?"
"Ehh."
"How come?"
"Well...when we were making passionate love, at the finish line he kept calling me Bubbles."
"Umm....my nickname is Bubbles."
"Yeah, isn't that a kicker?"
Do you find yourself perpetually making damaging verbal faux pas during social get togethers, at work and at family time?
Do people come up to you and call you "Homer" as opposed to your real name?
Does the resident bimbo in your office seem to have more brain cells than you do on a given day?
Then you're suffering from the debilitating disease known as Brain Rot. Brain Rot occurs when we don't exercise our brain and atrophy sets in from disuse. Fortunately, there is a cure.
What kind of cure you may ask?
Simple: give your brain the proper ingredients so that it can stretch, think, do, exercise.
Like logic puzzles? Try the game of "Where's Waldo's Corpse?"
No? Well how 'bout a good reference book? Like "Home Surgery Made Easy."
Perhaps fiction is to your liking then. "American Psycho" is always a good read.
Or maybe non-fiction is your bag. If so, there are scads of titles to choose from. Such as "The History of The Spanish Inquisition", "Scenes of Crime: Photographs from the LAPD Archives, and "Death Scenes: A Homicide Detective's Scrapbook" to name a few.**
Perhaps magazines are more your speed. "Fangoria"*** is an excellent magazine to start with.
Yes, there are simply a plethora of ways to cure yourself of this dreaded disease called Brain Rot. Try one today, because you know darn well that if you're reading this blog post, then your brain is rotting away as we speak, and an antidote must be taken at once if you want to recover.
Because you really don't want to go through life being known as the only person in the office who isn't smarter than a bimbo (or if you're a gal, a himbo).
*based on actual conversation that I participated in a few years ago. **Actual book titles. Found the first one at my public library, and I own the other two. ***late cousin of mine was a serious horror movie buff.
Hey guys, ever had this happen to you?*
You're in a small mixed group of people and a friend asks why you look so glum.
"Oh, I'm debating whether or not to break up with my girl."
"How come?"
"We have nothing in common, and we constantly argue and fight about the stupidest things."
"So break up with her."
"I would, but she gives such fantastic head."
Hey gals, ever had this happen to you?
"Hey Denise, how did your blind date go last night?"
"Ehh."
"How come?"
"Well...when we were making passionate love, at the finish line he kept calling me Bubbles."
"Umm....my nickname is Bubbles."
"Yeah, isn't that a kicker?"
Do you find yourself perpetually making damaging verbal faux pas during social get togethers, at work and at family time?
Do people come up to you and call you "Homer" as opposed to your real name?
Does the resident bimbo in your office seem to have more brain cells than you do on a given day?
Then you're suffering from the debilitating disease known as Brain Rot. Brain Rot occurs when we don't exercise our brain and atrophy sets in from disuse. Fortunately, there is a cure.
What kind of cure you may ask?
Simple: give your brain the proper ingredients so that it can stretch, think, do, exercise.
Like logic puzzles? Try the game of "Where's Waldo's Corpse?"
No? Well how 'bout a good reference book? Like "Home Surgery Made Easy."
Perhaps fiction is to your liking then. "American Psycho" is always a good read.
Or maybe non-fiction is your bag. If so, there are scads of titles to choose from. Such as "The History of The Spanish Inquisition", "Scenes of Crime: Photographs from the LAPD Archives, and "Death Scenes: A Homicide Detective's Scrapbook" to name a few.**
Perhaps magazines are more your speed. "Fangoria"*** is an excellent magazine to start with.
Yes, there are simply a plethora of ways to cure yourself of this dreaded disease called Brain Rot. Try one today, because you know darn well that if you're reading this blog post, then your brain is rotting away as we speak, and an antidote must be taken at once if you want to recover.
Because you really don't want to go through life being known as the only person in the office who isn't smarter than a bimbo (or if you're a gal, a himbo).
*based on actual conversation that I participated in a few years ago. **Actual book titles. Found the first one at my public library, and I own the other two. ***late cousin of mine was a serious horror movie buff.
Monday, May 10, 2010
Chillin' Chillin' With Anger Anger
May Day 2010 was an unusually warm Saturday in Connecticut. With temps in the hi 80's and the mountain in full bloom, it was a fantastic day to goof off outside and do frivolous things. In my case, the frivolous was writing.
At least, that was the basic plan. I was so confident about doing this, that my initial status update for Facebook reflected (at the time) that accurate statement.
Yeah, right.
The first inkling I had that maybe things weren't going to go right, was when I stopped at Subway for lunch. My intention was to pick up a sub, bring it to the park, and eat it before doing some writing.
Not.
When I got in line, it took me less than 30 seconds to realize that this wasn't going to work. A lady was ordering about a half dozen subs, one worker was making the initial set up, another was waiting to put the condiments and veggies on and a third was simply standing at the register bullshitting with the manager.
I left.
Went to Wendy's and after another 15 minutes of aggravation, got my lunch and headed to the park. When I got to the waterfalls, I saw the initial salvo to the outdoor wedding season. One thing that is quite unique to Newington is that during the spring and summer, the waterfall area is used as a backdrop for wedding pictures and weddings on the weekends.
So I turned around and had my lunch in the one area that I absolutely hate going to: the playground. I parked, got out, sat on a wooden guardrail, ate my lunch, and drove off, all in under 5 minutes. And yes, I actually tasted my lunch: double stack cheeseburger, fries, and a diet Coke (yecch).
When I got home, I decided to do my writing sitting in the front yard. I figured the weather and the live video would be conducive to writing a few upcoming blog posts.
Not.
After 2 hours, all I had written were four measly paragraphs. Topic of choice? Not sure and we'll leave it at that.
So.
I went back inside and spent about an hour and a half doing a block of editing. When I'd finished, I went back outside to tackle that particular blog post.
No dice. No luck. No hope. No future for you.
However, all was not completely lost. No sir, because all the aggravation I was going through and all of the anger I was experiencing was the perfect fodder for a post.
Namely, writing while angry.
I can churn out a massive amount of schtuff when I'm angry. Some of it pointed, some of it barbed, but all of it spot on.
For a good chunk of April, I was been going through so much turmoil and aggravation at work, that it's a wonder I haven't self destructed. Normally, most of the crap rolls off, but having a control freak micro manager perpetually crashing down on me for the past four years has finally taken its toll. Now couple that with certain behaviors that other co-workers of mine do which get under my skin, and you can get a basic idea on how volatile my writing can become.
Anger is a great emotion to tap into for a writing mechanism, but if you tap into it for too long, you can wind up sounding like a self-centered cheeky little brat.
I honestly believe that this latest tapping of the anger vein won't last as long as the first one, which lasted for about a year and a half, but it will probably last long enough to churn out some pretty unusual posts.
So.
How about you? Is there any kind of emotion that you hate tapping into, simply because you experience the same type of conundrum that I'd just elaborated on?
At least, that was the basic plan. I was so confident about doing this, that my initial status update for Facebook reflected (at the time) that accurate statement.
Yeah, right.
The first inkling I had that maybe things weren't going to go right, was when I stopped at Subway for lunch. My intention was to pick up a sub, bring it to the park, and eat it before doing some writing.
Not.
When I got in line, it took me less than 30 seconds to realize that this wasn't going to work. A lady was ordering about a half dozen subs, one worker was making the initial set up, another was waiting to put the condiments and veggies on and a third was simply standing at the register bullshitting with the manager.
I left.
Went to Wendy's and after another 15 minutes of aggravation, got my lunch and headed to the park. When I got to the waterfalls, I saw the initial salvo to the outdoor wedding season. One thing that is quite unique to Newington is that during the spring and summer, the waterfall area is used as a backdrop for wedding pictures and weddings on the weekends.
So I turned around and had my lunch in the one area that I absolutely hate going to: the playground. I parked, got out, sat on a wooden guardrail, ate my lunch, and drove off, all in under 5 minutes. And yes, I actually tasted my lunch: double stack cheeseburger, fries, and a diet Coke (yecch).
When I got home, I decided to do my writing sitting in the front yard. I figured the weather and the live video would be conducive to writing a few upcoming blog posts.
Not.
After 2 hours, all I had written were four measly paragraphs. Topic of choice? Not sure and we'll leave it at that.
So.
I went back inside and spent about an hour and a half doing a block of editing. When I'd finished, I went back outside to tackle that particular blog post.
No dice. No luck. No hope. No future for you.
However, all was not completely lost. No sir, because all the aggravation I was going through and all of the anger I was experiencing was the perfect fodder for a post.
Namely, writing while angry.
I can churn out a massive amount of schtuff when I'm angry. Some of it pointed, some of it barbed, but all of it spot on.
For a good chunk of April, I was been going through so much turmoil and aggravation at work, that it's a wonder I haven't self destructed. Normally, most of the crap rolls off, but having a control freak micro manager perpetually crashing down on me for the past four years has finally taken its toll. Now couple that with certain behaviors that other co-workers of mine do which get under my skin, and you can get a basic idea on how volatile my writing can become.
Anger is a great emotion to tap into for a writing mechanism, but if you tap into it for too long, you can wind up sounding like a self-centered cheeky little brat.
I honestly believe that this latest tapping of the anger vein won't last as long as the first one, which lasted for about a year and a half, but it will probably last long enough to churn out some pretty unusual posts.
So.
How about you? Is there any kind of emotion that you hate tapping into, simply because you experience the same type of conundrum that I'd just elaborated on?
Sunday, May 9, 2010
Twinkletoes Ted
The continuing adventures of Twinkletoes Ted can be found here. Warning: It's a bit longer than the first, which is due to the fact that I'm trying to write a story to the pictures and the story is becoming farther out than I anticipated. At least in this part.
And wishing all the mothers (traditional and non-traditional) who happen to be stopping by today a very happy and pleasant Mother's Day, is yours truly, who can be found here.
And wishing all the mothers (traditional and non-traditional) who happen to be stopping by today a very happy and pleasant Mother's Day, is yours truly, who can be found here.
Saturday, May 8, 2010
Honesty
I was having a major attack of the grumpies today (still am to a certan degree), when I decided to stop off at Burger King for lunch after picking up a scrip at CVS.
After getting my order (Whopper Jr value meal) I found a booth to sit at. Placing my tray down (in and of itself, an adventure with my bad hands), I plopped my butt down and took off my hat and glasses.
As I started eating my fries, a three year old boy sitting in the booth next to me, pointed and said to his dad, "That man has no hair!"
Yes boys and girls, I have no hair. Been shaving my head consistently since 2006.
Anyways, the dad made the son apologize for being rude. I accepted it graciously, even though there really was no need for the boy to apologize.
Because for the rest of my lunch, I wasn't as grumpy as I was when I walked in to begin with. I also had a smile on face and my mood was just a little bit lighter by the time I finished.
Sometimes, honesty from a child can often bring a smile to even the grumpiest of peoople.
After getting my order (Whopper Jr value meal) I found a booth to sit at. Placing my tray down (in and of itself, an adventure with my bad hands), I plopped my butt down and took off my hat and glasses.
As I started eating my fries, a three year old boy sitting in the booth next to me, pointed and said to his dad, "That man has no hair!"
Yes boys and girls, I have no hair. Been shaving my head consistently since 2006.
Anyways, the dad made the son apologize for being rude. I accepted it graciously, even though there really was no need for the boy to apologize.
Because for the rest of my lunch, I wasn't as grumpy as I was when I walked in to begin with. I also had a smile on face and my mood was just a little bit lighter by the time I finished.
Sometimes, honesty from a child can often bring a smile to even the grumpiest of peoople.
Friday, May 7, 2010
2day's Tupik Has Beeen Brott 2 U Bi Da Ledder "E"
Disclaimer: I wrote this during breakfast, in which I discovered that I can't chew food and type at the same time. Go figure.
No, this ain't the ebonic version of Sesame Street. Shoot, this ain't anyone's version of Sesame Street.
Today's topic is Editing. Specifically, how I like to edit or in some instances, not edit.
I have a very funny way of editing. It wasn't always like that....scratch that, it used to be extremely funny, but now it's just plain funny.
A prelude is now in order.
Back in the day, when I first started writing, I developed a routine that was a bit unusual, in that before I started writing the next chunk of words, I would edit the daylights out of what I wrote previously.
Continuously. Endlessly. Ad infinitum. Ad nauseam.
Problem in doing it that way is that I would often screw up whatever it was I decided to write next, because I would often lose the flow.
Badly. Endlessly. Continuously. Repeatedly.
So.
Last summer, I decided to try something different. Instead of editing before I wrote new schtuff and get myself hopelessly lost in the process, I came up with the brilliant idea of printing out whatever it was that I wrote, and edit during my down time.
Damn....I'm smart! Brilliant! A Rhodes Scholar! Genius! Experiencing a case of the incredibly obvious!
Anywho.
Fast forward to now.
After a few miss-steps (most notably of inserting my edits into my writing and printing out fresh copy, only to write a ton of notes on the fresh copy), I'd managed to get all 143 pages printed out in small, medium and infinitesimal chunks. I'd also managed to have all 143 pages (well, not all 143, but probably more like 125...or was it 126...no wait, it was definitely 130) covered with: cross-outs, added words, subtracted words, brackets around sentences, paragraphs, added punctuation, subtracted punctuation, and other assorted anomalies.
So.
After getting writer's cramp for the past two months by pounding this bad girl out 'til it screamed for mercy, then it told me I was the best ever and shared a celebratory cigarette afterwards, I'm now ready to start phase one editing. In fact, not only am I ready, but I've already started the dreaded process of revamping my baby.
My babushka. My dumpling. My be-gentle-it's-my-first-time. My street walker. My high end escort.
So.
I've gotten about 90+ pages edited and parsed a net total of about 200 words from my manustrip.
hangs head in shame
I promise with fingers crossed behind his back that I will try to get another 500 words parsed by the time I do another update of Line 21
Really.
I mean it.
Honest and for true.
No, this ain't the ebonic version of Sesame Street. Shoot, this ain't anyone's version of Sesame Street.
Today's topic is Editing. Specifically, how I like to edit or in some instances, not edit.
I have a very funny way of editing. It wasn't always like that....scratch that, it used to be extremely funny, but now it's just plain funny.
A prelude is now in order.
Back in the day, when I first started writing, I developed a routine that was a bit unusual, in that before I started writing the next chunk of words, I would edit the daylights out of what I wrote previously.
Continuously. Endlessly. Ad infinitum. Ad nauseam.
Problem in doing it that way is that I would often screw up whatever it was I decided to write next, because I would often lose the flow.
Badly. Endlessly. Continuously. Repeatedly.
So.
Last summer, I decided to try something different. Instead of editing before I wrote new schtuff and get myself hopelessly lost in the process, I came up with the brilliant idea of printing out whatever it was that I wrote, and edit during my down time.
Damn....I'm smart! Brilliant! A Rhodes Scholar! Genius! Experiencing a case of the incredibly obvious!
Anywho.
Fast forward to now.
After a few miss-steps (most notably of inserting my edits into my writing and printing out fresh copy, only to write a ton of notes on the fresh copy), I'd managed to get all 143 pages printed out in small, medium and infinitesimal chunks. I'd also managed to have all 143 pages (well, not all 143, but probably more like 125...or was it 126...no wait, it was definitely 130) covered with: cross-outs, added words, subtracted words, brackets around sentences, paragraphs, added punctuation, subtracted punctuation, and other assorted anomalies.
So.
After getting writer's cramp for the past two months by pounding this bad girl out 'til it screamed for mercy, then it told me I was the best ever and shared a celebratory cigarette afterwards, I'm now ready to start phase one editing. In fact, not only am I ready, but I've already started the dreaded process of revamping my baby.
My babushka. My dumpling. My be-gentle-it's-my-first-time. My street walker. My high end escort.
So.
I've gotten about 90+ pages edited and parsed a net total of about 200 words from my manustrip.
hangs head in shame
I promise with fingers crossed behind his back that I will try to get another 500 words parsed by the time I do another update of Line 21
Really.
I mean it.
Honest and for true.
Monday, May 3, 2010
A Scintillating Spring Has Sprung Into Accion!
We here at Cedar's Mountain genuinely appreciates the fact that everywhere else on this big blue marble, Spring is officially being celebrated with with witty banter, lively humor and lack of clothing.
However, for the past few months Cedar Mountain has been unofficially celebrating the change of the seasons.
I say "unofficially" because Cedar Mountain knows how fickle the creator of his blog can be when it comes to adapting to the change of the season. Whereas Cedar Mountain traditionally celebrates the four glorious seasons that makes up its life: Spring, Summer, Autumn and Winter, G simply recognizes two yearly seasons that makes up his life.
Hot.
Cold.
However, he does have a semi-annual ritual that he foists on the unsuspecting public, and who in return, runs screaming to the hills.
Over the weekend, G performed his semi-annual ritual, much to the horror of the general public.
He changed his wardrobe.
Gone are the jeans, suspenders and boots for the weekend. In its place, are sneakers, shorts, suspenders and pasty white legs.
This past weekend, we officially celebrated and welcomed the traditional season known as Spring, in our own unique way.
If you want to join G in celebrating the beauty that is Spring, just do what he did this past Saturday.
Stop by a tag sale while doing your morning errands and buy a beanie baby quacker. Take said quacker and place it squarely on top of your head, or in my case, squarely on top of my baseball cap. Then spend the rest of your morning walking down the main drag and in and out of stores with the quacker perched on top of your head.
I guarantee that not only will you bring a smile and chuckle to the frazzled people behind the counter waiting on you, but you'll bring a smile and a chuckle to the people standing in line with you. Plus, you'll get stopped by a car whose driver asks where you got such a fascinating chapeau. And you'll feel good about yourself in the process.
Spring is....lying in a field of wildflowers with nothing but the warm sun caressing your soul and a cool breeze refreshing your spirit.
However, for the past few months Cedar Mountain has been unofficially celebrating the change of the seasons.
I say "unofficially" because Cedar Mountain knows how fickle the creator of his blog can be when it comes to adapting to the change of the season. Whereas Cedar Mountain traditionally celebrates the four glorious seasons that makes up its life: Spring, Summer, Autumn and Winter, G simply recognizes two yearly seasons that makes up his life.
Hot.
Cold.
However, he does have a semi-annual ritual that he foists on the unsuspecting public, and who in return, runs screaming to the hills.
Over the weekend, G performed his semi-annual ritual, much to the horror of the general public.
He changed his wardrobe.
Gone are the jeans, suspenders and boots for the weekend. In its place, are sneakers, shorts, suspenders and pasty white legs.
This past weekend, we officially celebrated and welcomed the traditional season known as Spring, in our own unique way.
If you want to join G in celebrating the beauty that is Spring, just do what he did this past Saturday.
Stop by a tag sale while doing your morning errands and buy a beanie baby quacker. Take said quacker and place it squarely on top of your head, or in my case, squarely on top of my baseball cap. Then spend the rest of your morning walking down the main drag and in and out of stores with the quacker perched on top of your head.
I guarantee that not only will you bring a smile and chuckle to the frazzled people behind the counter waiting on you, but you'll bring a smile and a chuckle to the people standing in line with you. Plus, you'll get stopped by a car whose driver asks where you got such a fascinating chapeau. And you'll feel good about yourself in the process.
Spring is....lying in a field of wildflowers with nothing but the warm sun caressing your soul and a cool breeze refreshing your spirit.
Sunday, May 2, 2010
Shooting Suburbia----->The Blog!
That's right boys and girls, you read it correctly.
The "Suburbia" tag that takes you to the Picasa Web Gallery photo albums of Cedar's Mountain, has now been relocated to the blog world.
Earlier this year, after I posted what used to be up in the corner of this blog in the Picasa Gallery, I had a few of my more intrepid readers tell me about the small problem of not being able to access the Gallery.
Suffice to say I was irked. Not at my intrepid readers, who I love and respect dearly, but at the fact that they couldn't get to the Gallery due to incompatibility issues with whatever their chosen system was and Google/Blogger.
So after giving it a lot of thought, I decided to be like LL Cool Joe and start up another blog for my creative output, this time the creative output being pictures.
First and foremost, what is this blog all about? Well, the header on the blog says this: The pictorial world of Cedar's Mountain and Cedar Mountain.
Which means that Shooting Suburbia will be the pictorial version of Cedar's Mountain. At least, that's what the basic concept of it is.
A few ground rules are in order, so that your experience with the new blog can be as trouble free as humanly possible.
1} Posting will be at the most once a week, on Sundays. Because I still shoot photos the old fashion way (disposable cameras), I usually have to coordinate the-spending-of-frivolous-money with the spending-money-on-the-important-things-in-life, so sometimes buying and developing take place weeks/months apart. So when I got, I'll post weekly. When I don't, I won't.
2} One particular irritating source of stress in my life as of late, has been those two naughty widgets that permeate this blog and FSG: namely, Sitemeter and Feedjit. Those two nasty widgets will not be making an appearance on Shooting Suburbia. Visit as often as you like, when you like, and from where you like.
3} No clutter. As you're no doubt aware, both blogs have more than their fair share of schtuff on them (links and the Followers widget are two of many examples) for you to use, abuse and explore. None of those aforementioned items nor any of the other schtuff that you're accustomed to seeing will be on Shooting Suburbia. It will be clutter free.
4} However, the one constant in the others, will be found in this one: comment moderation.
Those are the ground rules, which aren't really ground rules, but more like a list of what you won't find on that blog.
Without further ado, I present to you the reader, my picture blog, Shooting Suburbia.
The first post is part one of a three part misadventure called "Twinkletoes Ted".
Enjoy.
The "Suburbia" tag that takes you to the Picasa Web Gallery photo albums of Cedar's Mountain, has now been relocated to the blog world.
Earlier this year, after I posted what used to be up in the corner of this blog in the Picasa Gallery, I had a few of my more intrepid readers tell me about the small problem of not being able to access the Gallery.
Suffice to say I was irked. Not at my intrepid readers, who I love and respect dearly, but at the fact that they couldn't get to the Gallery due to incompatibility issues with whatever their chosen system was and Google/Blogger.
So after giving it a lot of thought, I decided to be like LL Cool Joe and start up another blog for my creative output, this time the creative output being pictures.
First and foremost, what is this blog all about? Well, the header on the blog says this: The pictorial world of Cedar's Mountain and Cedar Mountain.
Which means that Shooting Suburbia will be the pictorial version of Cedar's Mountain. At least, that's what the basic concept of it is.
A few ground rules are in order, so that your experience with the new blog can be as trouble free as humanly possible.
1} Posting will be at the most once a week, on Sundays. Because I still shoot photos the old fashion way (disposable cameras), I usually have to coordinate the-spending-of-frivolous-money with the spending-money-on-the-important-things-in-life, so sometimes buying and developing take place weeks/months apart. So when I got, I'll post weekly. When I don't, I won't.
2} One particular irritating source of stress in my life as of late, has been those two naughty widgets that permeate this blog and FSG: namely, Sitemeter and Feedjit. Those two nasty widgets will not be making an appearance on Shooting Suburbia. Visit as often as you like, when you like, and from where you like.
3} No clutter. As you're no doubt aware, both blogs have more than their fair share of schtuff on them (links and the Followers widget are two of many examples) for you to use, abuse and explore. None of those aforementioned items nor any of the other schtuff that you're accustomed to seeing will be on Shooting Suburbia. It will be clutter free.
4} However, the one constant in the others, will be found in this one: comment moderation.
Those are the ground rules, which aren't really ground rules, but more like a list of what you won't find on that blog.
Without further ado, I present to you the reader, my picture blog, Shooting Suburbia.
The first post is part one of a three part misadventure called "Twinkletoes Ted".
Enjoy.
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