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CarlHoliday

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Blog Entries posted by CarlHoliday

  1. CarlHoliday

    Amherst, OH

    By CarlHoliday,

    Okay, I tried to make an appointment with my shrink, but he won't be in town the next time I'm home. So, I guess I'll have to monitor the situation and decide what to do when I start heading home.
     
    Actually, I'm kind of surprised I went to the effort of making the appointment, but I was going to do this entry and realized it would look kind of silly to say I was going to try. It looks a whole lot better to say I tried, but failed.
     
    I'm putting off leaving as I have to drive through Cleveland, not my favorite city, what with Dead Man's Curve on the other side, one of the few places in the entire interstate system where an interstate highway makes a ninety degree turn.
     
    In my putting off, I wrote the third section of Chapter 16. It was probably one of the darkest pieces I've written in a long time. It is quite bloody and someone dies, but there is a bit of humor in there, too. I tried for a GOTCHA! and hope it comes across.
     
    Kind of leading up to it was a dream I had last night that involved a murderer who might have been stalking me. I say might because he was definitely shooting other people around me, but seemed to ignore my presence. It was almost as if he was putting my death off until the last moment.
     
    The past few days, well, since Wyoming when I came across the Sand Creek Massacre Trail sign and looked it up in Wiki, I've been thinking a lot about death. Then I did a little research on the Sand Creek Massacre, like Wounded Knee and Mi Lai one of our military's less reknowned moments. It's kind of numbing what a few guns and bullets can do to old men, women, children, and babies. And, yes, a few of the soldiers died, but it seems a lot of their wounds were from friendly fire. Get in the way of a bullet and it doesn't care what uniform you're wearing.
     
    In a short discussion with myself yesterday, I figured out these entries were acting as a sort of mental lift to the day ahead. So, I guess you going to have to put up with me for a while longer, or at least until I can talk to my shrink about changing my meds as I am definitely bouncing between happy and sad. This can't go on. Either I change my med dosage or I end up on the side of the highway somewhere.
     
  4. CarlHoliday

    "Home", WA

    By CarlHoliday,

    I can't use Home without quotes because there is a Home, WA, and I don't live there, although I have been there. It's a nice, little community on Key Peninsula. If you're interested, check out the interesting Wiki entry on Home.
     
    I'm home for only two days because, well, I was getting tired out there having to find a lab to have my blood tested. The last place was the county hospital in Rawlins, WY, because they don't have medical clinics. They're probably going to bill me a horrendous amount just because they're a hospital and everyone is now being billed extra for the new emergency room.
     
    So, yesterday I did nothing.
     
    Today, I was going to go fix my son's computer, but he told me his friend came over and determined the silly thing was a virus infected piece of toast. Well, his friend seems to know a bit more than the average person so we'll go with that and he gave my son one of his extra computers.
     
    My son and I, also, decided that we'll try to scatter my mother's ashes on 9/20. I'm hoping for a sunny day as opposed to a cold, damp day. Stormy Mountain wasn't named that because it was a sunny, cloudless day when someone looked up that way and wondered what they'd name it.
     
     
    The Adventures of Harold and Bernie
     
    Harold wasn't a Harry. His father, mother, Uncle Harry, and numerous cousins tried to make him one, but he cried so much they simply gave up and called him Harold.
     
    Bernie was Bernhardt after his maternal granduncle, but quickly became Bernie because kids laughed at him too much. They also laughed at him because of his lisp and the strange way he wiggled his butt when he walked. Bernie was a lonely child.
     
    Harold went to a private school and graduated second in his class, which got him into a very prestigious, yet small, private college where he excelled to gradute, sadly again, second in his class. He went to a not so famous graduate school and became a CPA.
     
    Bernie went to public school and was ridiculed for his lisp and wiggle. He was pounded regularly by less intelligent, but more physically dangerous classmates. For a time, his nickname was "Blackie" for an ever present black eye. He graduated somewhere near the top of his class and went to a state university where no one cared if he lisped or wiggled. His BS in Computer Science led to an MS.
     
    Harold was hired by the most prestigious accounting firm in the city of his birth, even though he turned down numerous offers from around the country. When asked Harold would say, "I saw the world in college and was not impressed."
     
    The very same prestigious accounting firm hired a headhunter to find Bernie. Some at the firm were a little put out by his lisp and wiggle, but he was the best at what he did and was willing to move to their city; famous for its seemingly perpetual gloom. So, who were they to complain? Complaints brought attention. They'd all worked happily in their little cubicles and added attention was the last thing any of them wanted. Besides, it was a little lisp and the wiggle wasn't that pronounced.
     
    to be continued, maybe
  5. CarlHoliday

    Manchester, PA

    By CarlHoliday,

    Seriously folks, I thought I had this thing beat. I thought everything was going to be peachy again, you know, like it was when I was simply delusional or before that when I was too scared to open my closet door. It been down hill since then.
     
    I was feeling pretty good last weekend and earlier this week. I was doing pretty good, too. Everything was coming up roses.
     
    Well, somebody has to fertilize the roses if they're going to look good so we're in for some heavy shit.
     
    I'm down; there isn't a better way to say it.
     
    I asked my boss and he approved my time off (just two days) starting next Friday, the 29th. So where do they send me? Yeah, Manchester, PA. It's close to York in case you don't know your PA from your MA.
     
    Next they're (my boss is off this weekend) going to say there aren't any loads going west at this time. That what they said last time; no loads going to the West Coast. I suppose all those trucks out there on the highway heading west were empty.
     
    I have Chapter 15 ready to post, but haven't had the time to do it, nor the motivation.
     
    I haven't worked on Chapter 16 at all. I pretty much know what I'm going to say, but I haven't typed a single word.
     
    There's this new story running around in my head right now. It's a Sci-Fi about a young man, late teens or early twenties, who is captured by the secret police planning to blow up or do some kind of serious damage to the embassy building of the Sylene's who whupped the Humans in a battle for Darit. The young man's father just happens to be the President of the Planetary Guild of Selectmen and he is given a choice life in prison on Darit or become a hostage on the Sylene's home planet of Mmemn. This has been mostly just a distraction to keep my mind thinking about something other than being totally depressed.
     
  6. CarlHoliday

    Moses Lake, WA

    By CarlHoliday,

    Moses Lake is an odd little city in the middle of the Columbia Basin. It is also an actual lake; technically a reservoir when Crab Creek was damned in 1900 for irrigation purposes. That original reservoir is much bigger today because of the Columbia Basin Reclamation Project. I spent the night here and will be heading east within the hour. Back in the mid-Eighties I applied for a typesetting position here with a small webpress, but didn't get it because they hired a guy from Wenatchee. It was a shame, really, because I would've liked to have lived here.
     
    I'd like to bitch about something, but I'm feeling too good to do that.
     
    Last night a the warehouse where I picked up my load there was this kid. I don't know, at least 16 but certainly not over 19. Think of an ideal Nordic boy named Sven with that tight blond hair that is short and thick, wisp of a moustache and goatee, clear blue eyes, too loose sweat pants that he had to keep pulling up over an ass to die for, and the flash of abdomen and chest he gave me; the skin was lightly tanned and I couldn't make out any hint of hairs heading south from his navel. Was the flash on purpose or was it just something he normally did? Oh, yes, he'd been working very hard and his cheeks were flushed. Beside the sweat pants he was also wearing a black hoody. On top of everything else he was so damned cute he almost made me forget about the slender warehouseman I'd seen earlier in the day with a light, two day old beard barely covering his pale, clear skin.
     
    The other warehousemen were Filipino/American adults, one was a grandfather, and mostly spoke Tagalog. (I used to work with someone who spoke that language regularly and got used to the sound of it. What was really interesting was her telephone calls to one of her friends from "home" who was also tri-lingual [English, Tagalog, and Spanish]. There'd be this string of Tagalog interspersed with a few Spanish words, and then, Nordstroms or Rite Aid would pop out and it'd sound so weird.) So, this extremely cute white kid in amongst all these older warehousemen was quite startling. He was so out of place that I suspect he was a summer hire, maybe the son of the owner or possibly the shipping clerk who seemed to have a bit of Scandinavian blood in her, too.
     
    Chapter 15 is coming along, finally. I figure I'm about two-thirds through and should have it out by next weekend, depending on how my job goes. If I have to haul ass, or get super frustrated, the writing will stop. That's just the way it goes.
     
  7. CarlHoliday

    Boise Stage Stop

    By CarlHoliday,

    It's a truck stop southeast of Boise, ID, that I usually stop at going either east or west on I-84. I have an 0500 delivery appointment tomorrow morning in the Portland, OR, area (453 miles away). Then I get to sit for a spell before delivering the rest of the load to customers south and north of Seattle Monday morning. I like multi-stop loads because we get paid for the extra stops. This load brings in $65 in extra stop pay. Every little bit helps when it now takes nearly $65 to fill up the mini-van.
     
    I haven't been working on Chapter 15 of The Artists. I have been working on my submission for the Fall Anthology. It's an innocuous tale about love on the rocks and grasping for straws. It doesn't have any bunnies in it (I swear, I'm going to do a story with bunnies. Actually, I saw a bunny in Colorado Springs when I was delivery firelogs to the Ace Hardware Distribution Center, so I know they're out there, it's just difficult getting them up off the ground and into a story.), but there are horses and the possibility of a huckleberry pie. There are children, though. Two sets of brother/sister combinations. There's also a murder, double murder in fact. And, it won't be uncomfortably long, which so many have complained about in the past.
     
    After I deliver this load I get to have three to four days off. It's not like I need the time because this whole trip has had too many days of sitting without driving. I don't make money unless I'm moving. Yet, I look forward to seeing the dog and the wife, too. We're supposed to go out and see the son because supposedly he's having problems with my old desktop I gave him. For someone who saw no purpose in having a computer, suddenly he's on the bandwagon.
     
    The other thing I need to do is check with the consulting nurse at my medical center and see if I need to be seen by someone. My left calf is still very bad and extremely painful. A couple days ago after I stopped driving the pain was so bad I had to simply curl up and go to sleep (I can't take any pain medication because of various reasons. Grin and bear it, it'll go away soon.) And, I might need to see my psychiatrist about the mood stabilizer, which is working, sort of. I still get pissed at some drivers, but it's not seriously pissed and I get over it quicker. I've been acting a little weird lately and I don't want to have to stop driving because I can't make the money I'm making doing anything else. It's not anything serious, just weird, crazy like weird and it's kind of scaring me because it's so damn weird.
     
    Well, gotta go and try to finish that story so I can get back to work on The Artists. I probably won't have a chapter out this week because of the story, but that's okay, too. Then, again, I might because I'm going home and will have some extra time available to write.
     
  8. CarlHoliday

    Dumas, TX

    By CarlHoliday,

    I got out of the Metroplex without being burnt to a crisp. God, it was hotter than hooey down there. Well, not at hot as, say Phoenix or Barstow, but hot. It was an oppressive heat that pushed down on you. In the desert it is hot, but it's more scorching or searing. The heat moves around and through you as it goes onto the next person. The heat during the past few day was personal. It was your heat. Your's alone.
     
    One good thing about the heat was I was able to finish Chapter 14, which means Chapter 13 is free to be sent to the editor. Chapter 14 is primarily about Casey and Six.
     
    And, then there's the Fall Anthology. I haven't been submitting anthology stories because I simply don't have the time to write. The mental problems and associated medicine make me too tired to write; and, the mental problems affect my internal communications in such a way that working on one project seems to be all I can accomplish.
     
    Anyway, it seems my mind has latched onto the Ghost theme. Yesterday, as I was driving up US-287 between Wichita Falls and Amarillo, I saw a house that had seen better days and was, in all likelihood, abandoned. There were various items of rusting farm implements around and grass was atleast a foot high in places. There simply didn't seem to be any life in or around it.
     
    I see lots of empty houses in my travels around the country, quite a few of them very, very old, but this house was from the Forties or Fifties. There was, also, a bell on a tall pole in the front yard that was rung with a rope attached by the front door.
     
    My immediate reaction was someone died, but the family hadn't decided what to do with the place. The kids were at a quandry about tearing down Mom and Dad's house; or, worse, fixing it up and renting it.
     
    I can't remember exactly where the house is, but it wasn't too close to any of the towns along that stretch of road. It was, like a lot of houses out on the prairie, out there all be its lonesome.
     
    And, then my mind imagined a scenario, a horrible scene of murder/suicide, and a man in the mid to late thirties who has to live with this nightmare playing out in his head, until a lover finally shows up who is willing to help take the ghosts away.
     
    I can't be positive this story will amount to anything, but as long as I'm between chapters on The Artists, I might as well find out.
     
     
  10. CarlHoliday

    Leominster, MA

    By CarlHoliday,

    I was trying to come up with a witty entry about "Three Broads" I ran into in the past few days, but I've got to go pick up a new load in a few and can't stay on topic for any length of time. Okay, the first "broad" is my favorite: the French Broad River in Tennessee and North Carolina, mostly in TN though. It's the name. French Broad sounds so erotic, so Rita Hayworth or seductive like Ingrid Bergman. Makes me try to imagine Burt Lancaster or Humphrey Bogart, a baguette, a bottle of cheap wine, and a French broad across the table.
     
    Then the other day I was driving up through North Carolina and crossed the Broad River. I've crossed that river so many times it's silly, but that time it finally clicked. French Broad and Broad? Could there be a coincidence? Looked up French Broad in Wikipedia. Seems there were two broad rivers back in the early days when people didn't get around too much and had a rather narrow view of the world around them, say twenty or so miles.
     
    It was those people who named the rivers, which coincidentally mind you, start their separate journeys to the sea quite close to each other. One headed east into the English colonies and was called the English Broad. The other headed west in the French colonies. English was lopped off the first one and it is now known simply as the Broad River.
     
    The French Broad River has one other interesting bit about it. When it joins the Holston River at Knoxville, TN, it is generally agreed that is the headwaters of the Tennessee River.
     
    The other broad of this story is Broad Mountain, Pennsylvania. I slept there last night, right up there on top where Sara Lee, Wal-Mart, and a few other companies have distribution centers. My delivery was at Sara Lee. She was quite excited to see me, too. When you're in a state like Pennsylvania and have a choice between putting your facility in a valley or on a mountain, well, sometimes up is just and good as down. Broad Mountain helps because it is broad and not pointy. No narrow ridges, just lots of plateaus, good for building huge warehouses.
     
    Well, it's about time to get ready to head up to Ayr to pick up my load. It'll be another night of driving as I head west toward Michigan. Deer time, again.
     
    As far as the writing goes, I am working on Chapter 13. I can say that. I've also started working on what will become my next big story. It takes place in the distant future, but not the future of sci-fi with spaceships that travel as fast or faster than the speed of light. No, this story takes place in a country that's run out of oil, coal, and quite a bit more. All those 0.001% bacterias and viruses that aren't killed and build up resistances finally had their day and decimated a lot of the higher lifeforms on the planet. The story takes place a hundred or so years after that when the survivors, the ones who had the correct genetics to fight off the diseases, are running the show, such as it is.
     
    Think of Kansas, Nebraska, and maybe Missouri around 1810 or so. You're not white, you're an Indian. My characters are not Indians, but their cultures seem to be going in that direction. This is an adventure/coming of age story about Jesse, who is different, not that that matters anymore, and yearns to be a warrior and hunter. He dreams of killing his first city feller and taking his head. You have to do it up close, so the feller's blood gets on you. The only problem is that the nearest city is a couple hundred miles away through hostile territory, he'll have to walk because horses were one of the species that became extinct, and he needs someone to guide him.
     
    Okay, I'm going, be safe out there on the highway and remember the big truck isn't going to jump out in front of you so quit hanging on the corner of the trailer. Go on by, damn it! And, while going by, don't linger in my blind spot. I might have to do something and if I can't see you, you'd better be ready for defensive driving lesson number one, the median or the brakes.
     
  11. CarlHoliday

    Wilson, WI

    By CarlHoliday,

    The Canadians lit up the Northern Lights (for you Spelling Bee enthusiasts and college graduates, the Aurora Borealis) last night. I know because I was driving across North Dakota at the time of the big show, around midnight. Actually I haven
  12. CarlHoliday

    Beach, ND

    By CarlHoliday,

    As I've said in previous blogs, there's no beach in Beach, ND. Other than the sky blue water tower, there's no substantial body of water to have a beach. I suspect it was someone named Beach who designated this little bit of America's Siberia to be a beach. It's been reported that some winters in ND are so cold diesel fuel gels and the trains stop running. I believe that because just across the border to the north is Canada and everyone knows how cold Canadians are. You'd be cold too if it never stopped snowing. Remember all those Ice Ages? Guess where all that ice came from. That's right, Canada!
     
    Today has been blustery, to say the least, with gusts exceeding 50 mph. Makes for a fun drive, but it also turns the prairie into a shimmering sea of greens, yellows, and silver. I think the wheat fields were the prettiest because they aren't quite ripe, so there's still a lot of green in the stalks and the wind opens up the rows exposing that green. They literally shine with the gusts running across the field.
     
    I also passed a sign advising Terry, MT, is The Official Home of the Evelyn Cameron Gallery. It's also the home of Evelyn Cameron, but I had to Google her to find that out. I think it's interesting they have to say Terry is the OFFICIAL HOME of the gallery. It's as if there are UNOFFICIAL galleries hiding out all over the place pulling in tourists and admirers of her work, while all the time no one is going to Terry, MT, to see the really good stuff. Terry, MT, isn't much of a place and I think dear sweet dead Evelyn is their claim to fame and they're going to run with it until everyone has seen enough.
     
    It feels good to be back on the road, but this load is a bear because I have to drive at night the whole way and you know who likes to stand in the middle of the interstate and ponder the meaning of life. There are lot of dumb creatures out in the wild and I wish they'd stay out in the wild instead of playing on the freeway. The last thing I want to have is an accident with a suicidal deer. It's bad enough hitting one who just plain didn't see me because my headlights blinded the silly thing, but to have one stand right out there and just dare me to hit it is unbelievable.
     
    Tonight I get to drive across ND and MN, hopefully getting to WI where I'll spend tomorrow sleeping. I've started Chapter 12 and this one will be totally about Casey. Chapter 13 goes back to Six, Jim, and Ben.
     
  13. CarlHoliday

    Blah

    By CarlHoliday,

    Okay, so I didn't get home before the Fourth.
     
    I was here on the Fourth, though.
     
    But, I didn't get three consecutive days off. I had to deliver my load on Monday and Tuesday.
     
    I was ready to go back to work yesterday, giving up a day of time-off just to get back on the road, but there wasn't a load to be had anywhere in all of Washington or northern Oregon.
     
    So, tonight at 2300 I pick up a load going to Illinois. It'll mean a lot of night driving through elk and deer country. Just what I like.
     
    I did finish Chapter 11, though. The story is settling down to episodic events in each character's life. Finishing Chapter 11 means sending Chapter 10 to my editor so all of you can enjoy it too.
     
    My own life is blah. The mood stabilizer is great because it has stabilized my mood into a great big nothing. My only concern is not being able to continue doing what I'm doing. Being stabilized isn't all that it's cracked up to be. Plus, I still get depressed a little.
     
    Anyway, whatever may happen in the days, weeks, and months ahead, I can look forward to being not all that excited about it.
     
  14. CarlHoliday

    Is Pokey Dead?

    By CarlHoliday,

    Yesterday when I was driving up US-550 toward Durango, CO, I saw what looked like a small rottweiler puppy lying beside the highway. There isn't a breakdown lane in that stretch so the little doggy was lying in a narrow, a tire's width, space between the pavement and the weedy shoulder. I imagined Mom moving the kids the previous night and little Pokey trying to keep up before the next car came careening down the highway. It was probably too dark and the driver was probably distracted by the mother and puppies on the other side of the road to notice Pokey was trying to run across, too.
     
    Or, some kid wasn't paying attention and dropped their stuffed rottweiller toy puppy out of the window of the minivan and Daddy refused to stop and get it. Well, there isn't a breakdown lane so there was nowhere to stop.
     
    I couldn't really tell what exactly was lying beside the road because the highway was narrow and I'd been on the road for quite a few hours already. I'd like to think some little girl is really pissed at Daddy right now because the thought that Pokey died trying to cross the road isn't something I want to think about.
     
    If you're driving down I-35 in Oklahoma you'll see that at exit 86 you can go to Wayne and Payne. There're on opposite sides of the interstate, if that matters.
     
    Did you know Hereford, TX, is the Beef Capital of the World? Drove through it on my way to Friona, TX, the Cheeseburger Capital of the World, to pick up a load of beef I'm not taking to Portland. Interesting thing about Friona, there doesn't seem to be a lot of burger places other than the Dairy Queen. Is a dairy queen the gay guy who milks the cows?
     
    One thing I encounter quite a bit is feed lots. You know, well I suppose if you don't get out on the highways and byways of America that much you wouldn't, those big expanses of land where beefies are getting fattened so they can be turned into "It's what's for dinner tonight." The aroma of beef shit and piss on a hot summer afternoon is so undesirable it makes me wonder why anyone would want to live in the Beef Capital of the World. There are a lot of feed lots in Hereford.
     
    Finally, last night I'd gone to bed early (1800) because I had to get up at 0100 to get to our yard in Salt Lake by 0800. I woke up with a start because there was still light coming in through the blind. I looked at my watch and it was eight o'clock. I did not look at the sleeper clock which is on 24 hrs or the instrument panel clock which shows AM and PM. I got myself together and was on the road by eight-thirty. I drove for nearly 20 miles until I finally began to absorb some of the evidence of the actual hour. One major clue was the setting sun. I assumed it was rising. In the west? Something was horribly amiss because if the Earth had altered its axial spin everything wouldn't be so okey-dokey. Finally, I looked at the clock on the instrument panel and noticed the PM under 08:56. I had looked forward to at least six hours of sleep, but ended up with only four and a half.
     
     
  15. CarlHoliday
    Way back when the pioneers were slogging their way into the Platte River valley from Kansas, they found a large island in the river, hence the name. Back then, it was a great big island, twenty-three miles long. What's that, a day on a horse? The US Army determined the up stream end of the island would be the perfect location for a fort. Of course, the Platte River was, at the time, known for being "a mile wide and an inch deep," but there was an island in the middle of it and an island is always a perfect location for a fort.
     
    I should be doing a lot of things that I'm not doing right now. I should be getting a shower. I should be getting ready to get down the road. I should be acting responsibily.
     
    I'm not.
     
    But, I will as soon as I finish this.
     
    I've started Chapter 10, but haven't gotten further than the first section. I need to write about a first date between two kids who look like "a couple of lesbians out on a date," to quote one of them. The other is a bit put out by the comment, mostly because he's been trying very hard to look like a boy. Well, he is a boy.
     
    And, then, yesterday I started thinking about my next story, which I don't want to because then I'll have too stories going, which with my work schedule is not a good thing. I barely have enough time to write one story.
     
    The way I'm looking at it the new story will be quite close to my personal situation, my story, maybe. It will be filled with a ton of lies, more deceit than you can shove into a walk-in closet, and a truth that can never be revealed. I'm beginning to think this might be the most violent story yet.
     
    The problem with having a story like that is you have to work on it. Luckily, I'm focused primarily on The Artists. There is no block looming on the horizon, but I now have this other story that I think I'll keep in a dark corner for the time being.
     
    Well, got to go.
     
  16. CarlHoliday

    Dunnigan, CA

    By CarlHoliday,

    Back to work . . . well, sort of.
     
    I left home yesterday morning headed to Salinas, CA, with an empty trailer to pick up a load headed for a grocery distribution center somewhere in America. Then yesterday afternoon as I was approaching the end of my run for the day I received a new destination, Riverside, CA. So, I wasn't going to pickup salad, after all. It's not that I don't like hauling salad, but I don't like going to Salinas. You can't like everywhere and Salinas is one of my nowheres.
     
    Today I'm all focused on determining where I'll stop for the night so I can shower, whether I'll go into the yard tomorrow or stop short at Frazier Park, and all the other details of getting the big truck from here to there.
     
    As I was passing Dunnigan, I noticed the QualCom had a new message (the bell on mine doesn't work so I have to keep looking at it to see if someone sends me a message). The first message is from my dispatcher telling me not to go to Riverside, but to go to Linden. Okay, fine by me, but where in California is Linden. So, I pulled over to the side of the road and found Linden. It's just up the road from Peters. More importantly, it's in Northern California so I lose out on a bunch of miles.
     
    As a result, I'm spending the night at the Pilot in Dunnigan. Tomorrow I'll drive to a small truck stop the other side of Sacramento. I was planning on simply staying here until Saturday morning, but CalTrans is shutting down I-5 through Sacramento Friday night and who wants to try out the new detour while trying to get to a customer location by the appointment time; I don't.
     
    Hopefully, my load will be going somewhere east just for the miles I'm not getting by sitting in the middle of the Central Valley oven. Did I mention that it was hot? Did I mention that California's new idling law has taken affect and I can't idle my truck for more than 5 minutes? Did I mention how hot a black Volvo 670 gets while sitting in the sun? Did I mention how I've suddenly taken a strong dislike for California?
     
  17. CarlHoliday

    Pigs!

    By CarlHoliday,

    I'm at a pork processing plant waiting to be invited in to get my load. I've been here since 0700 this morning. I was a little late due to weather, but it's been six hours of waiting so far.
     
    And, time not wasted either.
     
    I finished Chapter 8 and sent Chapter 6 to the elves for processing. I suspect Chapter 6 will not go over very well. It deals with sexual situations that have not been too popular here at GA. Oh, well, such is life as seen through dirty lenses.
     
    The only constant thing going on today is the constant squealing of pigs. There seems to be no end to the number of livestock trucks bring the tasty beasties to slaughter.
     
    Yet, I sit here waiting to be called in to get my load. I suspect it is some kind of trim product since I'm taking the load to another company for further processing.
     
    One thing that's been interesting is the workers coming out for smoke breaks. There are the ones that wear white uniforms and knee-high rubber boots. They have a lot of blood splattered on them. There are other who only have the rubber boots and there are others who wear white, but don't have boots. It kind of makes one wonder what exactly is going on inside.
     
    I'll leave it at wonder, though, as I have absolutelly no interest in going in and looking. It might be okay after the piggies are turned into pork to see that side of the processing, but I have do not wish to see the piggies being turned into pork.
     
    Good little piggy. Thunk! Slice! Slop! Whirr! Squish! Squirt! Yuck!!!
     
    And, all the heads sitting over there in the corner waiting for their turn to be further processed.
     
    What's nice, though, is that it doesn't stink here like it does at the pork processing facility in Ottumwa, IA. Every time I go there, it smells sickly sweet like fresh pork. Here, there isn't any meat smell at all.
     
    Just the incessant squealing of pigs fighting to get off the trailer so they can be first in line to get thunked in the head.
     
  18. CarlHoliday

    Des Moines

    By CarlHoliday,

    I've been getting around quite a bit lately. No long trips, which pay gobs of money. Just short day trips that you hope to have enough to add up to a paycheck. The drawback is I don't have extra time. I'm busier than heck for 11 to 14 hours and then all I want to do is sleep so I can do the same thing the next day.
     
    Finally, I've been given a breather. I delivered this morning and don't pick up my next load until tomorrow morning. Then it's a long four days west. It looks like I might make it home by the eighth, which would be nice since the wife's birthday is the nineth.
     
    It's been kind of fun being back on the road and driving to more places than Washington, Oregon, and California. I don't look forward to having to listen to the guys on NOAA Weather to find out if my truck and load will be safe if I stop somewhere. A week ago I drove across Nebraska and they were having a lot of thunderstorms. Yesterday, when I was, once again, driving across Nebraska I came to, I'd guess, a five mile stretch of highway where a tornado had done its dirty deed.
     
    The bad part about driving long hours is that all I want to do at the end of the day is sleep. I haven't been getting much writing done. I'd guess I'm about halfway through Chapter 8 and while I have Chapter 6 ready to go up, I'm waiting until Chapter 8 is finished.
     
    On the psychological side, well, let's just say that I have a recognizable psychological side, now. I can see now that it was always there, but it was kept neatly under the surface where one is supposed to keep that kind of stuff. When I first went over the edge back in 2003 and 2004, I wasn't fully cognizant of being crazy. Then after some intense counseling I saw the error of my ways and became a recovered nutso on a good antidepressant.
     
    Now, having fallen off the edge once again and having been pulled back onto my feet, I'm left with a mind that is, quite literally, living on the edge. Each day there is a struggle not to simply jump off, again. The only thing that keeps me being me and not some wacko on a gurney waiting for ECT, is the realization there is absolutely no support at home. If I jump off, I will in all likelihood not be able to get back because there won't be anyone there to pull me up.
     
    It's a scary thought realizing that.
     
  19. CarlHoliday
    I really screwed up a couple days ago. My dispatcher is giving me a shitty load to make up for it. Being late is a big no-no and I could've said, "Uh, I shouldn't have taken this load because I don't have the time to complete it." I could've of said, "You know, I'm going to be late tomorrow because I shouldn't have taken this load because I don't have the time to complete it on time."
     
    But, no, I did not do that.
     
    I waited until I could make my dispatcher very, very pissed at me.
     
    Okay it was in the low 100s yesterday, they had a level one smog advisory, the wind was blowing, and I kept making mistakes. If you're going to make one, you might as well make a couple and get them out of the way.
     
    So they gave me a revised delivery appointment that was next to impossible to make. I had to make a choice: get fuel I needed or deliver on time. I chose the latter. Then I get to my 99 (our stops are number, initial pickup is 1 last delivery is 99) and there are all these trailers there that belong to my company. 99 asks, "Is this a live unload or a drop." My dispatch order says nothing about this load being drop, so I say, "Live unload." To which they respond, "Well, it'll be awhile because we don't have a lot of room in our freezer and we're short a couple forklift operators."
     
    I sent a message to my dispatcher asking if this load was a drop, but I had to go into a door before he responded, which he never did. Then he send me this load which I'm supposed to pickup in four hours, which would've been okay if I had simply dropped my trailer.
     
    I waited and waited and waited. The pickup customer called me to find out when I'd be there. I had to be at his location no later than 10:00 a.m. I was going to be lucky to be out of 99 at 10:00. Plus, I had to get the trailer washed out.
     
    I spent the night in the San Felipe Pueblo Travel Center off I-25. My delivery appointment in Denver is 22:00. I've slept a lot, worked on The Artists, and basically chilled out. There's a casino across the street, but I'm not interested.
     
    I'll be leaving soon. It'll take about 8 hours to Denver. I'll stop at our yard for fuel and to rest a bit before going down to this 99 and making my delivery. Then it's finding The Blue Beacon to get my trailer washed out (this is a dirty load). And, then I suppose it'll be another load. Normally, I'd expect a Coors load, but I've been naughty and can't expect a good load, not that delivering beer is good. I've delivered a lot of beer and quite frankly there are better loads.
     
    (Uh, I don't want to get anyone in particular upset or anything, but I've been noticing a change in my mental status. I don't know if it is a result of the meds or something else, but I don't seem to care about a lot of things anymore. It's not quite that though. Close. If I had a few hours and the energy to think about it, I might, but I'll just have to keep going and see what this leads to.)
  20. CarlHoliday

    Troy

    By CarlHoliday,

    I'm spending the night in Troy, IL, when I should be further down the road. I had to stop at the T/A to get fuel and going on would've meant logging another 15 minutes for a post-trip inspection. By stopping here, I was able to combine the required 15 minutes for fuel and do a post-trip at the same time.
     
    I finished Chapter 6 this morning. It deals with six different characters in three difference situations. Right now, it appears the character Six is taking over the story. I strongly suspected he was going to do this as he is very likeable. Casey is difficult. Well, he's obese; and, how many good things do you know about any eighteen-year-old who can't walk normal because their thighs are too big, can't swing their arms normal because there's too much flesh between their biceps and chests, and has breasts?
     
    Oh, by the by, Casey's breasts appear in Chapter 6. They may appear again in a later chapter.
     
    I'll probably start Chapter 7 tomorrow morning or tomorrow when I stop for the night. I know how the chapter goes; well, pretty much most of it. Most of this is Six's chapter, but I'm seeing two other characters popping up for a brief appearance.
     
    Further on, I can see some timing issues developing with the different story lines. There will be a lot of tragedy occurring and I'll have to keep each of them organized so they don't conflict with the others. Plus, since all the characters interact on a fairly regular basis, there is the chance that one character who may be going through a difficult time may have a cameo appearance in another character's story line. If that is is case, I'll have to make sure the character is out of the hospital, up and walking, or not yet in the morgue, etc.
     
    Yeah, I said morgue. One minor character is definitely going to die soon. Plus, two major characters have good chances of not surving very much longer, either.
     
    Such is life.
  21. CarlHoliday

    Made Marion

    By CarlHoliday,

    I made Marion, IL, tonight instead of stopping in Paducah. My new load delivers tomorrow evening in Sterling, IL, so I wanted to get as far as possible today without messing up my log book. Actually, I was planning on fudging on the book a little, but the scale was open south of Marion so there is a record of my truck passing through it at about the time I wanted to show I was already in Marion. I know it sounds complicated, but running out of hours is a major screw-up and I've been driving long enough not to do that again.
     
    I finished the second section of Chapter 6 this morning. Now, all I have to do is the third section. Three very important events occur in this chapter and I'm looking forward to getting to Chapter 7 which looks like it will be fairly easy.
     
    Chapter 4 has been returned from the editor and has been sent to the elves to get posted. Hopefully, it'll be up sometime tomorrow.
     
    I seem to be doing pretty good as far as the psycho shit goes. I'd like to think everything is peachy keen, but I've been a horrible cynic for so long I can't imagine life getting better much less having a good outlook.
     
  22. CarlHoliday

    Snow!

    By CarlHoliday,

    It's still winter in Wyoming.
     
    Last night I picked up a trailer headed for South Carolina. I have to be there Tuesday.
     
    I stopped for breakfast in Sinclair, Wyoming. If you're familiar with Sinclair gasoline, this is where it comes from. From what I understand the downtown area is quite picturesque from when this was a company town.
     
    It was snowing a little when I stopped. Just a little. I took a little nap. I ate a breakfast cookie, banana, drank an orange juice, and swallowed my meds.
     
    The snowing got worse.
     
    It might have been easier if my CB worked, but it doesn't. I don't know if it's gone to CB heaven or if it the Volvo isn't feeding it the right stuff. Whatever the case I can't hear what's going on on the road.
     
    So, I cranked up the laptop and to check the weather. I was wondering if there was an end to this cloud full of snow. The sun does wonders with snow, especially if you don't want it.
     
    Unfortunately, it's roaming here in Sinclair so my mobile broadband connection speed is close to dial-up, maybe a little slower. The loop on the weather site was taking forever to load so i went over to the Wyoming highway department and found out eastbound I80 is closed. I'll be stuck for awhile.
     
    If I was tired, I'd sleep. I'm not that tired though. I suppose now is a good time to work on Chapter Six.
     
  23. CarlHoliday

    Motel

    By CarlHoliday,

    I'm in the Econo Lodge in Salt Lake City hoping I'll get my new truck today. There's a chance I might have to take a Kenworth W900 which presents itself a whole lot better than a Volvo 670, but it's a bear to back into tight docks. At this point in time I can't be too picky though. You don't have to take a W900, but it might mean sitting for another day until a Volvo comes out of the detail shop.
     
    No, I haven't written anything. I meant to, I tried to, but not a lot came out. Chapter Six isn't hard, it just has a lot of emotion in it, a lot of unexpressed emotion and the characters this time around are turning out to be rather difficult with their emotional baggage.
     
    I've been away from home for five days and the wife is already giving me the "I miss you so much" crap. She has zero ability to be anything other than totally dependent on me. We talked about me being gone for three weeks, which I need to do if I want to make any kind of money in this trucking job, and she was totally for it. Now that I'm gone, she's gone back to her "I can't do anything when you're not here" shit. Does not make for a calm mind.
     
    Chapter Three is out being proofread and should be up for the weekend.
     
  24. CarlHoliday
    I haven't written anything in a week.
     
    No big deal, so far.
     
    But, I have been busy. Maybe too busy.
     
    We (my, the wife, Bonita, and our son) are leaving Friday morning for Salt Lake City. I got the call this morning that I'm on for orientation at the trucking company I worked for first. I'll be there until Wednesday afternoon when I get a truck. Then it's boogie, boogie, boogie on down the road.
     
    It'll take a while to get up to speed, but I think I'll be smokin' on all cylinders by the end of May. I think this is truly what I need.
     
    Bonita is on drugs. She's been coughing and retching recently and the vet think she's overheating when sleeping at night in our bed. So we give her a 1 mg Torbutrol (butorphanol: a morphinan-type synthetic opioid analgesic) tablet before going to bed. She doesn't do this when only one of us is sleeping with her, so she won't need to be drugged when I'm on the road.
     
    Bonita is on a diet. The vet had WORDS with the wife about poor little Bonita being a SEVEN POUND Chihuahua. Hopefully, this little chat will finally stop the wife from giving in to Bonita's whimpering and begging.
     
    And, finally, I bought the new laptop. It's not quite what I wanted, but the price was right so I bought it anyway. Mostly, it's too big. I should be able to get to writing Saturday night and hopefully will get Chapter 6 of The Artists finished before I get back on the road.
     
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