Ron

See, that just proves my point, any "idiot" can make an unrealized mistake. One only seems like such a one after the fact. Thank you for the sympathy and a big Amen to your last comment. p.s. Boston's average seasonal snowfall is around 45" or so, if I remember correctly.

I did get a break for a couple of years and spent the winters in Singapore. With a stopover visit of Sydney and Melbourne, very nice.

Ooh, did this happen to you too? LOL I know, you got womped way earlier than we did. But I know what lake effect snow is like (Lake Erie) and I was sympathetic to your plight.

I wholeheartedly agree with you.

I don't believe it was done on purpose. Otherwise yes, it would be time. The first time my partner and I did the shoveling, I laugh now, after we enthusiastically cleared the roof (no deck) we unenthusiastically had to re-shovel the area around the door. True story!

I have only been out of the house once since January 27th, the date of winter storm Juno, aka. The Boston Blizzard. I made three trips to various stores and groceries the day before in order to stock up on supplies so that I could tuck-in and wait things out. Things went well, my supplies lasted quite a long time. My first journey out was to the grocery again, fresh produce was my target, and in that goal I was successful. The journey allowed me to marvel at the mountains of snow at intersections, easily ten to twelve feet tall, and the fact that the main street (Massachusetts Avenue) that runs through my neighborhood, the South End, was so full of snow that parking spaces will not be found until sometime in late spring. Sidewalks were navigable by the space of the barest width of a shovel and the only way to let oncoming pedestrians pass by was to either climb onto a car height (or higher) mound of snow, hop onto someone's half-assed shoveled steps or get real cozy. No passing. Fun stuff. Keep in mind that before the date of the big winter storm Boston had previously had only dustings, and then one storm that left about an inch on the ground when the storm began. I watched the snow fall through my oriel window in my living room and from the warm safety of my condo. It fell into and onto my below street level backyard garden and slowly covered everything. About twenty-seven inches of cover, or there about. A few days later, another eighteen or twenty inches (one is never really sure), and then some more, and some more again. We now have, in inches of snow, the high level of seventy-three point six. A record. More is on the way. Part of my condo exists as part of an 'ell', and by way of description these are extended additions (one to four stories tall) added on to the backs of townhouses all over the city and at some point in history (vague, I know). If one were to look at a townhouse from the side, you can imagine the 'L' shape at the back, hence the name. My building dates to 1857 but I have no idea when the two-story addition was added. But what this all means is that the roof over my living room is in the ell, and the roof is flat. As opposed to the roof of the main townhouse portion, which is peaked. A few years ago, neighbors put a deck on part of it, as was their right. But when snow gets to the levels that we have reached, the snow needs to be shoveled off of the flat part—roof and/or deck. That happened two days ago. My newish, upstairs neighbor (now newish deck owner) hired someone (who I know) to shovel the snow into the back garden. Fine so far. I saw said shoveler head up the fire-escape as it was getting dark. I usually pull my curtains (big, heavy, velvet curtains) closed around that time, and I did. What I didn't see until the next morning was that all of that snow had been shoveled to the sides. Whatever can be the problem you might ask? There were two mountains of snow set against the brick wall sides of my home and garden, with peaks in the range of nine or ten feet tall. So? Well, mountains have bases, and the base of mountains left and right, blocked each of my fire exits. One being my bedroom window and the other a steel door egress into the garden level from a second bedroom—with pretentions of being an office. What am I to do? Funny you should ask. Since my garden is completely snowed in and I didn't see this as a problem originally, why shovel? It means I could not get into it from its street level gate (reached by a set of stairs, also snowed in) and so I asked my next-door neighbors if they would pretty please open their back gate and let me in. I can access my garden by way of their ell addition and my buildings fire-escape (simplified version). Which I did by walking around the block and entering from the rear. So far, so good. Now, a funny thing happened on the way to the Emporium. Accessing the fire-escape was just a few pushes of snow and a completely unnecessary, though fun, break to smash a gigantic icicle hanging from the back of my neighbor's townhouse ell. If you've stuck with me, here is the really fun part. I make a treacherous step across open air onto the ice-laced wrought iron steps of the fire-escape, and again so far, so good. I tossed my two shovels (kept the straw broom) over the handrail and into the snow—they didn't sink very deep. Hmm. The next step was into the garden and was questionable. What to do, what to do? I went for it, and rather than walk to the bottom and wade through the snow, I straddled the handrail near the bottom and stepped. I sunk mid-thigh into the snow; my left leg did not follow. So there I am straddling the handrail, one leg stuck in the snow, the other trapped under a step on the fire-escape and holding a straw broom over my head for balance. Get the picture? Don't panic, Ron! It's below freezing (a high of 22°F today), I am below street level, and there is no one who can see me. Will I freeze to death? Will they find my desiccated, freeze-dried body come spring? It's amazing how fast thoughts of not-so-real possibility and craziness can flash through the mind. I had a broom, right? If you don't panic you can find a way. I was able to unseat my foot from under the step and let my left leg join its partner mid-thigh into the snow. Is this what it's going to be like? From there it was a definite slog, each leg sinking into the depths, until I was able to reach my back door entry. A journey of about twenty-four feet through perilous territory—all under foot and under snow—of planters, patio pavers upturned by cherry tree roots and a pile of pruned tree branches which didn't make it to the curb for recycling last fall. SUCCESS! Well, partial success, anyway. I did free my back door from the clutches of the mountain of ice and snow—it took an hour. But I saved my bedroom window for tomorrow's adventure.

I think that's around $7.20 or so a gallon in US dollars, on average if the figures pan out. That's a lot of money.

That was awful, just awful, to watch. Pretty senseless, too. Would you buy a series based on this pilot? That is the question studios would have to ask themselves. You know what my answer would be. Another production company, with a different vision, might serve the story better.

A version of this was supposedly shown as a commercial during the super bowl. I watched it afterward on you tube. CNN article and video

I dare say, you're right, Russell. Good point.

I do believe you're right, James. You're a different person than you were and you do have different tools at your disposal to work with. Tools that younger version didn't have access to. Use them to your best advantage, I know you will.

I can just picture the two coworkers creating a tableau vivant across their desks: Monsters being chased by the angry mob (pitch forks and all) with a choice selection of 'Scream Queens' in their horrific poses scattered among the mob for maximum effect. What a picture!

I envision the whole sexual aspect of A.I. as beginning very similar to the scenario in the movie Her. A movie that I consider underrated. The act of affection, as it is in the movie, is easily seductive, to both. Then, because the A.I. does not truly have the same spark, if you will, as humans do . . . they would grow in a different direction than we. And we could only hope that that direction would not lead to our demise, I'm thinking.

“The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes but in having new eyes.” ~ Marcel Proust

Bravo!

Not everything you write needs be seen by others. Write for yourself if you think it will help. Writing as therapy is something that I've seen mentioned onsite many times and I dare say that I've probably channeled into my own writing; fiction, but just the same, channeled.

Joe was an interesting character, to say the least, with an unusual way about him. Oh hell, I found him to be a bit odd, all right?! Was there something, or someone, that prompted the character?

You've got yourself a fine first chapter, Billy. Your characters are interesting. I must say that baseball themed stories seem to strike a cord with me, for some reason, even though I can honestly say that I am not unusually fanatic about the game. My only advice on the subject would be to caution you to slow down a bit, include some of the reactions from those people not playing the game (that you mentioned). Make them a part of it. Don't rush the words and end up throwing them at us hurriedly. I think that you can take your time and develope your characters and their connections. I think this type of story calls for that approach. But bravo and keep up the good work.

I'm happy to hear that you like my story. Thank you for taking the time to say so.

I enjoyed reading this very much. All of the various elements here gathered into a nice cohesive package. There was one small niggling dangle. How did Dave, not being related, find out about the accident? Otherwise, I thought that you captured the dialogue particularly well during the confrontation. Nice!

Good on you both for sharing such personal facets of your lives with one another. For providing and allowing the safety of friendship to do so. These things remind us that we are human - there are things that must be lived with - and there are things we can do to overcome adversity in all of its forms. I'm happy for you that it worked out so well.

I'm looking forward to the Neko sequel but what I really should do is get over and finish up the shorts. I couldn't read What No One Sees past a few chapters and that may have had something to do with coming right on the heels of having read All In. I'm not sure. I'll need to see if the distance of time makes a difference before I say anything definitive about the story.

A tired soul on their last day deserves some comfort, I think. As does, perhaps, someone who is deeply moved is deserving of relief. Thank you for the wonderful compliment on my work.

You're right, there is a slightly spooky feel and maybe that's inevitable in a story like this. It's more than a ghost story and you noted some of the more important aspects of the story. I'm glad to hear that it all came together for you in a good way.

I'm very pleased that I was able to move you emotionally and I thank you for telling me. Please do check out my other stories but you'll find they are not all emotionally heavy. There is humor and lightheartedness to be found as well.