Day 22: 36,099 words

They should totally have tropical storms around here more often.

I slept incredibly deeply through the night, finally crawling my lazy ass out of bed after 9:30. I literally cannot remember the last time I did that without having been out drinking the night before. The sound of rain is an awesome sleeping pill... that, I guess, and burning a lot of calories training.

Today was a beautiful day under crystalline blue skies. The air was shockingly, eerily clean, and there was even a cool breeze. I wrote, rode, went to the gym, rode some more, ate, wrote. Jesus H. Buddha Quan Yin Mercurius Christ, I love these kinds of days.

I don't really know if I want a full-time job or not. (Checks bank account.) Oh right. Yeah. A job will be good. Mmkay then.

swallowed by an hypothesis

My favorite doomsday device comes on line this Wednesday:

"I do not expect to be swallowed up by," said Evans. "I think nobody in their right mind expects to be swallowed up by hypothetical black holes which are created in the LHC."

Just so. No particle physicist worth his salt wants to imagine spending eternity in the guts of a provisional idea whose merit requires evaluation. But the strangelets, daddy-o! what about the strangelets?

Day 21: 33,339 words and Tropical Storm Hanna

I made the most of a gray Saturday and wrote, wrote, wrote. I had a crisis of inspiration, though, so I walked the two miles up to Brookline Booksmith for a recharge. I am so hungry for a book, but it just seemed like reading fiction right now would throw my style off. Especially since what I want more than anything is On the Road: The Original Scroll. I don't know what reading Kerouac now would do to me. I might stop using paragraphs or something.

So far, this hurricane is underwhelming.

Day 20: 31,217 words and 16.1 miles

I did some good race training on the wildest course one can imagine: the City of Boston.

Downtown is, not to put too fine a point on it, a fucking vortex. The grid (such as it is, and it really isn't) does like a 45-degree shift as you enter the historical center of the city, and streets you had counted on as reliable eastish-westish axes turn back on themselves and parallel lines suddenly intersect. Skyscrapers block any possible fixed landmark. Eventually, the gyre spits you out and you find yourself in Eastie or headed over the river to Cambridge.

Anyway, riding street in this town is, as I've mentioned before, mortal combat. I pushed as hard as I could and upped my mileage count just chasing my tail downtown, then rode back out to JP against a vicious headwind to sign up for the mechanic training course at Bikes Not Bombs... which was already full. I decided to go to the gym, figuring it'd be dead on Friday night. Wrong. Meat market. Undeterred, I put my headphones on and played a liveset I had downloaded before leaving home. Full of skips. Shit. Basically, I got denied all evening but still had a fucking great time. I worked out, took a long sauna and stretched. Came home, chatted with the roomie, wrote, and now I'm just gonna chill and get a good night's sleep so my body can recover. Friday, y'all.

You may ask how I afford my rock'n'roll lifestyle. It ain't easy being this crip.

Day 19: 29,799 words and some peace

My friend called his wife from the L station, incoherently drunk, and let her take him to the detox center. Hopefully, when he dries out, he'll have enough sense to check himself into the sober living place and spend some time getting his life back. I can still hope... because while he's still drawing breath, there's hope.

I drank caffeine at about 8 this evening (big risk) so I could catch up on my writing. I found a missing piece in my plot and what was held together with chewing gum and duct tape is now a smoothly pivoting little instrument. Tonight an ancient blind Chinese herbalist showed up in my story, pretty much out of nowhere. Kind of hilarious to see who parachutes in unexpectedly...

I really hope I didn't trade a night's sleep for twenty-seven hundred words, though.

The Emperor's New Election and the gutless reaction to Sarah P

As previously noted on this blog, I don't have a favored candidate in this election. In all the issues that are important to me, Obama and McCain adhere to the same program: a wildly assertive American imperialism, destruction of the natural environment, and government of big business, by big business and for big business.

I know that I'd be leaving myself open to a charge of gross Naderism even though I live in a state that's breaking 49% - 37% for Barry O. I'm fine with that, really. Every significant mass movement for change in this country has come to an end when it allowed itself to get subsumed into an electoral strategy. "Vote for So-and-So because he'll be more likely to support your cause." History shows, though, when So-and-So gets your vote, he'll take it and tack to the right to curry favor with the power elite. So, whatever. The Dem's are 2% less evil, so run out and vote. Have a ball.

The main problem I have with voting is that people are taught that this is the only - or at least the pre-eminent - way for them to express their political will. In Massachusetts, we're told on numerous signs that "it is our civic duty to vote." In a healthy democracy, sure: periodic voting for a representative could be one way for an organized people to send a trustworthy representative to the halls of power. As it is, though - with the process soaked in and controlled by money from start to finish - it's worse than a fruitless exercise: it is quite literally harmful to democracy. Voting is, in the 21st century, the opiate of the masses.

All that works, all that has ever worked, is organized people taking action in a consistent, direct way to influence (and scare the living shit out of) those in power, who then grudgingly, dragging their feet every inch of the way, enact some small change in the direction of the people's demands. You grab the inch and take a mile. It is, literally, the only thing that is worth a breath of energy.

One thing elections are really good up is stirring up the lowest impulses of the people. We always see the scary Other trotted out at some point during the quadrennial reality show. There was a lot of (IMO appropriate) outrage at the portrayal of mainstream lawyer and U.S. Senator Barack Hussein Khadafi Khomeini Abu-Jamal Osama Obama as some sort of wild-eyed radical, because he's a man of color with a funny name who did a bit of street work and once maybe read a book by Alinsky.

The response to the persistent, pervasive and vile misogyny directed at consummate Establishment insider Hillary Clinton, though, was remarkably muted in the so-called left blogsphere... when they weren't actively bitch-baiting her. After that, I know I shouldn't be surprised to read what I'm seeing, not in the mainstream media, but on the Koses and the Hullaballoos about Sarah "Caribou Barbie" Palin. I guess, since she's a Republican, she must be fair game, as it seems all tolerance of Vagina-Americans is premised on good behavior.

It's remarkable how little the left blogosphere seems to want to talk about her governing style, her outright lying, and her clear, unambiguously medieval stances on things like global climate change and a woman's right to choose. The chatter about her looks and the whole pregnancy scandal seems to have drowned out any semblance of debate, surprise surprise. It's hard to find a clearer example of people becoming what they hate... I am trying not to hate them, because I really don't want to be a punk-ass.

I'm a non-voter for a lot of very good reasons... some of them are outlined above, and some of them have to do with being sick of having it rammed down my throat my whole life that voting is my one and only chance to have my voice heard.

If you want to vote - go. I can't see the point in trying to talk anyone out of it that hasn't already talked themselves out of it.

Just remember we got to the place we are today - by voting. And maybe, when you have some space in your mind, think about whether or not there might be a better way of getting what we want...

powerless

My best friend on Earth was kicked out by his wife... close to a year of depression and alcoholism, violence and more stints in rehab than I can count (literally) had just finally wore her down. He's walking the streets, with no credit cards (she took his plastic) and I don't know how much cash. Slept outside last night.

I tried to get him to go to a hotel, offered to pay... but he got belligerent with the staff. He stopped taking my calls. I really don't know where he is now. He's been saying a lot of crazy stuff, and the streets of Chicago are no place for a drunk in crisis.

Not getting a lot done today, just blowing up his cell and stressing. I'm up to 27 thousand something. Whatever.

what and how I write

Instead of writing this morning, I decided to write about writing, inspired by a meme my friend Michelle passed along. I have to say, I've never really thought about how I write as much as just doing it - so it's kind of interesting to see how many different styles and attitudes people have about the craft.

1.  Do you write fiction or non-fiction? Or both?

Both - I'm here a lot, obviously, and I'm also trying to break into technical writing while I'm working on my first novel.

2.  Do you keep a journal or a writing notebook?

I have a personal journal, which is where I write the things that are for my eyes - and God's - alone. Other than that, no, I don't have a notebook per se, but I'll sometimes jot things down on scraps of paper, my iPhone, emails to myself, etc. as inspiration strikes.

3.  If you write fiction, do you know your characters’ goals, motivations, and conflicts before you start writing or is that something else you discover only after you start writing? Do you find books on plotting useful or harmful?

As a newbie novelist, I'm kind of feeling my way here. I have outlined half a dozen novels so far, where I knew pretty much all the people, what the plot was and how it's going to end. Obviously, none of those books got written. This one, I am pretty much letting write itself, mainly because I decided to write it two days before I started...

4.  Are you a procrastinator or does the itch to write keep at you until you sit down and work?

Let me get back to you on that.

5.  Do you write in short bursts of creative energy, or can you sit down and write for hours at a time?

I find I'm pretty much a sprinter as a writer. If I can't pound it out in an hour or two, it's time to go do something else.

6.  Are you a morning or afternoon writer?

Mornings and late evenings are my times. Mornings especially because that's when the coffee's available - if I consume caffeine after noon, I will not sleep.

7.  Do you write with music/the noise of children/in a cafe or other public setting, or do you need complete silence to concentrate?

I'm fine with random noise - I live in the city - but I haven't been real successful writing with music on. Maybe I'll try instrumental music, but anything with lyrics throws me off: I'm one who actually likes to listen to the words of songs, and I can't really do "background" music.

8.  Computer or longhand?

Longhand? What is that?

But seriously folks... I do all my creative writing on OpenOffice on my Mac, and my journaling in what I could charitably call "handwriting."

9.  Do you know the ending before you type Chapter One? Or do you let the story evolve as you write?
I have a general destination that I'm navigating to, but I'm actually as interested to find out how this story ends as any reader would be.

10.  Does what’s selling in the market influence how and what you write?
I have no earthly idea what is selling in the market, so I guess this is a "no."

11.  Editing/Revision - love it or hate it?

I have edited a lot of other people's work, mostly articles and papers, and am pretty good at it - so I suppose I would say I "love" it. Of course, I've never seriously edited my own stuff, so this will be a new adventure for me. And this book will need a lot of editing...

If you write, I hope you do this meme - and please let me know if you do. There are, apparently, as many ways to write as there are writers, and I'd like to learn about your way.

Day 16: Half the way there! (25,880 words)

Day 15: 22,665 words - Ramadan and Elul, St. Anthony and Gustav

In the Mideastern cultures that birthed the major Western religions, the calendar followed the Moon rather than the Sun. In Judaism, it is the first day of Elul - as I was mentioning yesterday, the Kabbalistic teaching is that this month is powerful for drawing closer to the divine. It's also the first day of Ramadan in the Islamic calendar - observant Muslims throughout the world are fasting this month, also to draw closer to Allah.

Something about this month (or "lunation" if we're going to get technical) caused the ancients to conclude it's a time for soul work. There's any number of theories you could throw out there - it's harvest time, maybe, or the moon in Virgo making people all perfectionist-y - but I'm not all that concerned with such stuff. The fact that so many people around the world are turning their thoughts inward seems to me to be like building critical mass.

I was already moving organically in that direction, anyway: I've been really focusing in an increasingly intense way lately on developing myself in the career/vocation, spiritual, and health aspects. So all of this is coming together very nicely.

It's been very powerful being all alone. I have lived with others most of my life: with my family, my friends in Kerista, my wife, and my last girlfriend. I've spent maybe a grand total of three of my forty-two years alone. And now that I am working from home, it's an almost monastic kind of alone.

There have been moments of loneliness, but mainly it's just been a fantastic opportunity to go deep inside. I've been finding parts of me that have needed attention for a long time and bringing light to them... and that's been invaluable.

This weekend also saw the Feast of St. Anthony here in Boston, for no reason I can determine (his saint's day is in June). Anthony of Padua is, as the fish-eaters out there know, the parton patron saint of finding stuff you have misplaced. My favorite miracle of his was the time when he started preaching and then realized he still had to sing in the choir - so he made himself appear in two places at once. Awesome guy.

I've also been in no small amount of anguish about the storm bearing down on the city I fell in love with this summer. The last reporting I saw made it seem like the city will be spared the worst of it - but I am very worried regardless. NOLA is still so fragile that another body blow could be truly devastating.

If you're Catholic, I hope you will consider praying to Our Lady of Prompt Succor, Patroness of the State of Louisiana. Heathen pagans like me: please visualize a spiral of protecting energy around the city... and keep your fingers crossed.

Here's hoping Elul 5768, Ramadan 1429, and September of 2008 are powerful months for everyone.

Day 14: new moon in Virgo, 21,534 words

Didn't make up all the lost ground I wanted to, but I took a bite. I also went for an awesome ride, got (mostly) unpacked and my kitchen set up, and recovered from the tragic loss of my coffee grinder. Fortunately I live in el barrio so it's now Café Bustelo all the way, papi.

Going to a Kabbalah seminar tonight, because I'm gangsta like that. It's a new moon tonight (actually 4 this afternoon), in Virgo... a good time to reinforce new healthy habits. Definitely feeling better in my new home, not least because I can finally sleep at night. Doing lots of important soul work too... this period of solitude is immensely powerful for me.

All my writing energy is going into my journal and to my novel. I know it's been thin around here and I can tell I've lost most of my new readers that came over from Michelle's. I definitely appreciated having all those guys around - but looks like I'm back to my old boring unread blog. No biggie. We'll see where I am after I finish the first draft... and, um, the first revision.

Enjoy your New Moon, my regulars! (the few, the proud...)

Day 13: 19.033 words and a night out

I wrote a bunch this morning - still not caught up but I made some good headway after some Jolt Silver (still can't find my grinder!) and a fun run up and around Parker Hill. This is an awesome running neighborhood, lots of steep-ass climbs and killer views of downtown Boston and the Plain.

Long work meeting today, and I busted out as soon as I could, tried out a new pub and checked out an art opening in the South End:



Came back on the T blasting Weezer on my iPhone:

Im'a do the things that I wanna do
I ain't got a thing to prove to you
I'll eat my candy with the pork and beans
Excuse my manners if i make a scene
I ain't gonna wear the clothes that you like
I'm fine and dandy with the me inside
One look in the mirror and I'm tickled pink
I don't give a hoot about what you think

(I'm just feeling bratty like that.)

Tomorrow I can get caught up and then go play. Long weekend w00t!

Day 12: 17,072 words meh

Moving-in day. I worked and ran around and built a sleeper bed and found where everything is in my neighborhood. I am exhausted and don't have much in the way of creativity... I'm about three thousand words behind but I know I can catch up in a couple of good sessions.

Meh.

Day 11: 16,707 words - moving day

Lots going on. Part of my joy in moving to my own place is being able to not have to deal with these fucking sublet kids - the latest of which told me that I had to be out of here by tomorrow. I mean, fortunately I'm still in nomad-mode, so I half-filled the GTI today and moved most of my stuff to JP. But Jesus H. Tap-Dancing Christ! How goddamfucking hard is it to communicate?

Yeah. So anyway, lot of moving, buying of a bed, copying of keys, setting up of broadband... not a lot of writing. Tomorrow I'll be in my little writer's garret. Thank Lord Buddha.

Day 10: 16,028 words

My characters continue to come to life. It's really hilarious and kind of wonderful. Even people I didn't particularly like are showing a warm, human side. I guess I am a big softy at heart. Ah well.

I start moving into the place in Jamaica Plain tomorrow: third floor of a three-decker, on the back side away from the street. Peace and quiet at long last. It's a real writer's garret... which is another way of saying "tiny-ass room." But it's mine. Mine all mine. Finally, at long last, I can stop. I've been living out of a bag since the first of June. It's enough already.

September's coming.

Day 9: 14,543 words HAH!

My protagonist surprised me tonight. He's a bit of a pathetic character, though I suspected he had it in him to step up when the going got tough. I put him in a one-on-one confrontation with a scary dude, though... and it's like he figured out a way to come out on top that I hadn't thought of beforehand: it literally came out as I was typing the dialogue! So the story is rushing along to the first big conflict and I am liking my lead guy. It's been kind of a problem that he's been getting on my nerves a little...

In other news, I learned that the little shit who screwed me over was in fucking Aruba for the past week, which is why he didn't return my phone calls. He's so sorry, of course, that the room he had promised me got rented to somebody else... but I'm not. I found a nicer place in JP for $175 less a month. New hardwood floors, pretty good neighborhood, street parking. So fucking there.

Also, started running intervals today. I usually improve really quickly once I get into interval training... which is good, because let's just say I have plenty of room for growth. My endurance is not too bad, but I lost a lot of speed sitting on my ass for months.

And the adventure continues! I love going to bed excited about what the next day will bring...

Day 8: 12,277 words and screwed again

For the second time in two months, some goddamn kid has screwed me out of a sublet at the last minute. I'm not going to go on a "kids today" rant: I've been fucked over by GenXers, hippies and folks of my parents' nameless generation more times than I can count. But I am kind of floored at how easy it seems to be for some people to say one thing on one day, know someone's actual living situation depends on it, and change your mind anyway.

Whatever. I'm checking a place out in JP tomorrow morning that might be an even better situation. Actually, so far, everything that has seemed like a reversal has ended up being a move in the right direction. So we shall see.

However, my heart's not really in the novel tonight....

Day 7: 11,646 words

I was gonna run six miles and write three thousand words today. I ran nine, and wrote 3,011.

Set high goals, then exceed 'em. Fuck yeah.

Party time.

Day 6: 8,654 words

Ahem. Yeah, yesterday and today: not such good days. I had a really shitty interaction yesterday with a guy at my company who is a salesperson, and an asshole... but I repeat myself. Anyway my boss and the other systems engineer totally had my back - which is great cause this guy brings in millions of dollars of revenue and I... don't. It's rare for a company to value intangibles like support. I'm lucky, and not just because I get to work hungover and unshaven.

In any regard, I'm still a thousand words behind, but I went to Peet's Coffee in Brookline tonight and got a pound of Major Dickason's, so I should be able to get up tomorrow and go on a tear. I worked through a pretty bad plot crisis today by judicious application of the old McGuffin, and I'm sailing along pretty well. It's absolute garbage, but I'm OK with that - as Papa said, "the first draft of anything is shit," and I am actually a pretty damned good editor.

Almost through week one... hells yeah.

Day 5: 7,136 words

I got roughed up at work today... some black velvets were required. Mmmmm... time to just chill.