I was Thinking, or Not

Just a Song before I go, a lesson to be learned, traveling twice the speed of sound it is easy to get burned.  However, it is better to burn out than to fade away.  And finally, wooden ships, and our house is a very, very fine house.  That is all, thank you.

About 21 years ago I sat down to write a little short about something, and it just was not there, but now it makes a little more sense.  I will dust off this little bit and publish it here, and see if it doesn't make a few people think.  Of course this will be the edited version, and I hope I don't taint it to much, but I will do my best not to let the now enter the past.  Look for it to hit the blog near the end of the week, around Friday.

“What the hell have I told you, if I don’t show up here by 10 you are to call me and remind me to call my fucking wife, you stupid bitch.” he bellowed at the receptionist immediately upon entering the front door. From the sales office, the words are garbled and lost in the insulation, I was standing in the room, there was no mistaking what he said. Time has a way of slowing down sometimes, it might just be me, but it seems like time slows in certain situations, even though I do not particularly notice it while it is happening.  It is the memory that is slow in replay I am certain, the immediate replay, the subsequent ones all seem to follow time space rules. The office manager always carried an umbrella, in case of rain, I suppose.  When it raised I did not hesitate, I did not think, I reacted. I now have to slow things down to remember them, as I said the subsequent memories are in real time, and it is a blur of furry in real time. The appointment cards seem to find their ...

The Writer's Place: "Learn Something New" Week with attorney Daliah Sa... : “An education isn't how much you have committed to memory, or even how much you know. It's being able to differentiate between what you... I have to totally agree, when we stop learning we stop having purpose, most people are afraid to admit that.

Lily - Author of Dark Fiction: Winners! Here's some work, some of you might like to check out. Not for the weak, or those of high moral character (or maybe, you can't tell with them holier than thou types) but most definitely interesting to read.

Have serials made a come back?  That's the giga-zillion question today.  Now for all you out there that do not read, let me explain.  A serial is book (a novel if you will) that is released in regularly scheduled parts, usually once a week, or as often as once a day.  Like a TV series, the book is presented as one part of the whole, and you have to read each part as it comes, or wait for the novel version. At one time many, many books (or works of literature) were published this way (Charles Dickens is known for his serial publications).  Some were then repackaged into a collection known as a novel, but many were not until much later.  It is not that a full length work such as a novel is bad, or that it is something really new, but the serial seems to had faded, but maybe not. The Return of the Serial The serial is making a comeback on the world wide web.  I see blogs that act very much like serials, and some are specifically designed to be very ...

Eds Note: This is mostly just noted updates, most of this is just trying to get the gist of the story line on the page, most of it is just reporting things as they happened, with a little shortening of the time lines and other such devices. It has a lot work yet to get the polish on, but it is only a first draft so that's that. If you don't know where this picks up, look at the end of FristDraft 9115 , and just go from there. This leads us to coffee. Coffee has been a part of my life nearly all my life.  From as far back as it matters I have drank coffee, the exact same way, bitter and tan.  I do not like sugar in my coffee, it destroys the flavor.  I like it relatively strong, and I prefer pure cream, but most often since we have goats, I just use the raw goats milk.  Why don’t I drink it black? Well, for one thing, I do not drink milk, or rarely, so that is part of it.  The other thing is that it does cool the coffee a little so I don’t have to w...

In the future I will be only posting the major updates not the entire body of work.  I will also add any notes that I have been making on the work as I write it, as they do not get to the blog from docs, so everyone can see where progress is being made, when it is made. I can't say I will have new updates everyday, but I am trying to get this into publication sometime this year, so it will obviously be often. I will be publishing through a vanity publisher (POD) service, namely Google Books and Amazon Books, and the links will be available here when the books are available there, as well as on Google+ and yes most likely FaceBook, only because so many people still do not have G+ yet, and that includes many of the people who will at least in some part be made part of this story. That is all for now... I am writing some today, but I don't know how much will get on, as I have goats to attend to and dogs, lots of dogs.

Today is Labor Day, the day that celebrates Werk, and the one day that nobody but the retail service people actually does any work on.  Just a little thing I have noticed through the years.

First Draft 9/11 I have not named it yet so this is the working title for now. Names don’t mean anything, they will change anyway, so don’t get to hung up on them. Jackie woke up at three, as he often did, when the silence was broken by something entering the room.  It was always dark, at three in the morning, no mater what time of year it was.  It was nothing unusual, just the same old thing that always went through the room just before dawn. Nineteen seventy four, the end of oil hit the US in the face, and Ford released the Mustang II, a sub-compact.   I was listening to Piper at the Gates of Dawn, waiting for my brothers to return from Vietnam. We never failed to watch the news. Four AM, the sun would still be a bit coming up, there was nothing to do, just sit there, wondering.  Another hour and my mother would be coming home from work.  She would make breakfast and then after a while she would retire for a few hours. Six the sun might b...