(3:33 pm Thu Nov 25, 2010)
[ Fri Nov 19, 2010 - morning ]
*** Talent ***
Here we are again. One day fades into another and one set of problems replaces another. Today I feel pretty good gentle reader. But then today is Thanksgiving in the U.S. and even though I am not there and even though I am not American either, that does present a problem. You see, there are football games on. And my team is playing in one. And even though my team is not doing very well this year and are certainly not living up to the pre-season expectations, I will be tempted to blow off writing to watch the game or at least be tempted to try and write while keeping one eye on the game. Something likely to get in the way of a decent and efficient effort.
Can determination and drive substitute for talent? Can talent be increased? What is talent? How much do you need?
"I am sorry kind Sir but I will not suffer my face to be touched without my permission," said the Starry Knight.
The officer looked like he was about to go off but Constable Gareth told him to cool it. He also apologized to the Starry Knight. He was beginning to wonder if the knights might be on the level. Could they really be grown men? Was there a circus in town that he hadn't heard about?
"OK, so let's say you're on the level for now, that you really aren't boys but are grown men. Are you sure you are not pulling my leg about being knights of some red queen though. Are you really from the circus or from a movie shoot perhaps?" asked Constable Gareth.
"We do not know what this movie you speak of is but we are indeed knights of the red queen sent to deal with the problem of the daze that has been causing trouble in her realms lo these three years," said Sir Higgi.
"And how did you come to be in our city then?" asked Constable Gareth.
"That truly is a mystery," answered Sir Higgi, "you see, we had found the source of the daze in a clearing in a forest by the ocean in a distant part of the red queens lands. We built a device to clear the daze from the clearing and found that the source of the daze was a hole in the ground. Basically, we went down in that hole in the clearing and came a hole in the street in your city. Then you found us," said Sir Higgi.
(4:10 pm Thu Nov 25, 2010)
Well gentle reader, the game I want to see is almost on, pre-game show now. Will I be able to resist watching and concentrate on writing like a half of me wants to do? (Well, it might be a little less than a half but it could possibly be a little more than a half too.)
*** Robber ***
(4:37 pm Thu Nov 25, 2010)
And now the game has started.
Robber. Thief. Violent thief to be specific.
Robbery. Great train.
Robber. Extra cathode.
You think maybe some robber is stealing my time? Can't be, I would know that right. Could be a thief though. Or a cat burglar. Sending in some sleeping mist and then slipping in while I am dozing (while I am in a daze?) and slipping back out with my precious time.
(6:43 pm Thu Nov 25, 2010)
(7:19 pm Thu Nov 25, 2010)
Man cry an woman laugh
She say I is the better half
He get mad an walk away
Love is all that you really need
Know that satisfaction's guaranteed
Take a ride on the Orient Express
Lover calls for you to bring her dress
One thing's for sure that woman's super hot
Give you every last thing she's got
It is just not working. Once again I cannot get untracked. Too many distractions of the flat screen. So should I pack it in for the night and miss my goal for the first time this month or should I plod and fake and ramble and do whatever it takes to put some words down. I would say put some words down on paper but there is no paper in this process on my part so far.
Ah well, I don't even have an idea for foolish words.
The clouds in the sky laugh at your folly, laugh so hard that they begin to cry. Tears without salt. Tears who do their jobs without pay. No chance of a salary for these tears. The breeze cools your skin as the tears evaporate. You wait for relief but it is slow in coming. You wait, sitting on a dead stump of a once proud tree. A tree that stood tall for many years. Stood tall providing shade without favour to all who would stop and enjoy a respite. But now you sit in the remorseless sun, the only shade from the sparse clouds as they pass. And so, even though the tears fall on you you are at least thankful for the coolness that they bring.
Each word now is a hard won victory. And yet each time I check for progress it feels like defeat. How can this be?
My name is Bondo, Billy Jack Bondo. I have a license to fill. So bring me your busted, your crumpled, your befuddled bodies.
The Spider came into my shop yesterday at high noon. I knew it was high noon because I could smell the locks outside on the blocks. I could tell that the Spider had once had a flair, her flaming red paint job must have been something in her prime. But when she came through my double doors yesterday for an estimate she was looking sad indeed. Faded, glory days long gone. I could tell by the look of her headlights that her body wasn't the only thing that had been dented through the years.
(8:15 pm Thu Nov 25, 2010)
*** Squeeze ***
Main Squeeze. You know that has to come first.
Squeeze. Boa. Not the feather kind.
Squeeze. Squash. Two S Q words.
Squeeze. Grip tight.
Squeeze. Wedge in.
Squeeze. Put pressure on.
Tight Squeeze. In a bind. Way behind. That's today. What's the play? Send it in coach. I'm not ready to play. Not today. No way.
The Spider looked like come here let me squeeze you despite being faded. I looked at her and knew I had a Bondo job to do. Billy Bondo was on the job. License to fill. I had dreams of making her look like new. All feminine curves restored to her original splendor. Top down, hilly country curves, dappled sun on beautiful black asphalt. White lines that seem to never end.
I had a large backlog of work but it was mundane work. I needed a little spice in my life so I decided to squeeze her in to my tight schedule. I probably should have never said yes but some opportunities only come along once or twice in life and I had a feeling about my sad little Spider.
If about now you are asking yourself why one Billy Jack Bondo with a license to fill would spend his days on mundane work I can only say this. every spy filler needs a good cover story. My little garage operation was mine. No one ever suspected what went on behind my closed double doors.
(8:55 pm Thu Nov 25, 2010)
A word here and a word there and before you know it you have a few more words released out into the wild. Set free. To be read. Perhaps to be reread. To be reused even. Molded into a different form. Made to say something different perhaps. Something completely different perhaps. Cue the giant foot. Cue the silly walk. Cue the silly walk chase. Cue the house on wheels. Cue the beach tunnel. Cue the beach towel. Cue the body surfing. Cue the go go dancing. Cue the openings and closings. Cue the curl. Cue the tree splat. Cue the multiple door slamming. Cue the crude. Cue the famous elbow. Cue the ciphering. Cue the capsule and the bottle. Cue the minnow. Cue the hips. Cue the num num. Cue the monkey. Not mine. Cue the man in the back. Cue the tiny dancer. Cue the bird up high. Cue the regimented. Cue the walrus. Cue the fool. Cue the money. Cue the wall. Cue the real fire. Cue the burning. Cue the harpoon. Cue the chest beating. Cue the tail walk. Cue the sleuths. Cue the life of a clown. Cue the submarine. Cue the free bird. Cue the pie.
*** Fling ***
Fling, bling, swing, sling, bing, sting, cling, sing, ting, zing, wing, ying, ping, ning, ming, ding, king, ring, xing.
Fling. Throw hard.
Fling. Take a brief shot at it.
Fling. Going steady for a very short time? Going unsteady for a very short time?
(9:13 pm Thu Nov 25, 2010)
Reached the last quarter once again at least.
You may be asking yourself gentle reader just why I might go on writing these seemingly totally unconnected words. It is a valid question. I mean, isn't it a total waste of time to be doing this. Not only are these words today totally unconnected from the main story, they are pretty much unconnected from the two knights one day bit as well. So why write them.
Because. Something needs to be written and these words happened to come up next in line. What should I do? Send them to the back of the line? How do you think that would make them feel? All dejected and everything probably. Who knows, they might go into hiding. What would we do then? Would we find ourselves needing one of these common words only to find that they were off some where sulking? Or worse yet, on strike?
Well, the real reason is that I never know when some seemingly unconnected bit will suddenly get connected or suddenly lead to something that can be connected up. That's what I tell myself at least. Otherwise I fear my sanity, such as it is, might go off and hide where neglected, dejected words might go and hide.
Seventeen Seventy Six.
Right on, right on, right on.
Cue the man about town.
Cue the loose goat. Lose the cued goat.
Each word a hard won victory.
Sorry, I just have to keep telling myself that to cheer myself up and to keep the flow.
Who am I kidding, you can't really call this a flow. More like a trickle.
Cue the whistle. Cue the spaghetti. Cue the noose. Cue the moose. Cue the Russian. Cue the Mountie. Cue the mouse. Cue the cat. Cue the zoom. Cue the watchtower. Cue the love. Cue Spain.
Cue the picture. Cue the story. Cue the pinball. Cue the diamonds. Cue Ruby. Cue Delta. Cue Chuck. Cue Leroy.
One hundred and eleven. Seven.
That's how you do it gentle reader. One little bit at a time, never quitting, nose to the grindstone, ouch, and you get closer and closer. Not long now. It might actually work. Well, not sure you can call these results working but the words mount up none the less. The closer I get to home. I get so excited. I smile. My spirit soars. Over such a simple pleasure. Just to be done. Just to shut down.
Will the volcano blow? Will the wind blow? Thankfully no big winds here yet this year and the big wind season is almost over. In fact it ends when NaNoWriMo ends. Somehow I don't think that is a coincidence. Do you think it might be the result of some sinister plot gentle reader?
(9:50 pm Thu Nov 25, 2010)
Enough. Goodnight gentle reader. Pasta banana.