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CarlHoliday

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Blog Entries posted by CarlHoliday

  2. CarlHoliday
    I'm at home tonight. I drove from Aurora, OR, to Puyallup, WA, to drop my trailer and come home. What is normally a two and a half to three hour (150 miles) drive ended up being nearly nine hours (480 miles) because I-5 is closed due to flooding.
     
    And, then my truck went gaga. Seems I have an injector going bad. According to the company maintenance manager, I can still drive the truck, but when the engine needs all six cylinders, mine's only going to have five, or four depending on which injector is the culprit. I've already noticed a significant drop in available horsepower when climbing hills, but I also lose power on the flat stretches, too. Whatever is the problem, the shop manager wants the truck back in Portland so they can fix it. Except, I can't get from here to there right now.
     
    I'm home to go to the Doc tomorrow to have the ol' finger up the butt exam. I know I'm supposed to have it done every year, but I don't think I've had my prostate manipulated for about three years. Since my dad died of prostate cancer, not getting an exam is like playing Russian roulette with only one empty cylinder. And, now with dear old mom succumbing to breast cancer, someone has the last remaining bullet and is threatening to put it in. Spin
  5. CarlHoliday

    At the edge, again

    By CarlHoliday,

    I know it's because my mother just died.
     
    I know that.
     
    On Saturday, I did a posting blitz and posted more in one day than I've ever done since being here. Quality was not my goal. Humor reined supreme.
     
    The laughter is gone.
     
    I stand at the edge of oblivion.
     
    If it wasn't so damned cold, I'd go for a swim.
     
    If it wasn't raining, I'd go for a walk on a high bridge.
     
    If I didn't want to live, I'd cease to be.
     
    Life has been bad before.
     
    Oh, god, has life been bad, before.
     
    I know it's because my mother died and I can't grieve for the bitch.
     
    She was a bitch unto death.
     
    Yet, I want to grieve. I want to get beyond this, but it hangs there like a dead weight upon my soul.
     
    I had my first diagnosed major depressive event on the death of my father. That was in 1971. I couldn't grieve for him, either.
     
    I shouldn't grieve for my mother, either. She isn't worth it. She was not a nice person and got worse as she aged toward death.
     
    And, yet, my mind wants to get rid of this feeling, or itself of me. It doesn't seem too particular either way.
     
    So, I stand at the edge of oblivion. One step the wrong way and there's little hope for my survival.
     
    I actually considered checking myself into a psych hospital today. Doing so would result in all of the psychological deaths I've dreamt about in the past. My life, as it is now, would simple cease to exist. So, I didn't take that desperate step.
     
    The website project seems on hold. I don't know what happened. Everything seemed to be going forward and then we stopped. Of course, I said it was okay for things to slow down, but now I'm not certain if we're biding our time or off on some other tangent. It's tough not knowing what's going on.
     
    A legal editor stepped forward to read Chapter 6 of the Kevin Project, the last chapter of the first section. I'm working on the next section, which covers Kevin from 16 to 18. The main subordinate character is a transgendered person named Euphorbia Gneiss. Kevin's love interest is a boy named Eric, who is one year older.
     
    I posted Chapter 14 of The Pastel Cowboy.
     
    I have to get the next chapter of Tim and the Corsair off to the editor.
     
    And, yet, I stand on the edge of oblivion. You can't imagine how tempting it is to simply step into scourging flames and give up my spirit to whatever happens next.
     
    Oh, my son said my father haunts the workshop in the garage. He also thinks my mother (his grandmother) has returned home. I have a suspicion it is my father, who spent a lot of his life in the workshop, away from my mother.
     
    bitch adj. My mother.
     
     
  6. CarlHoliday

    Full of angst

    By CarlHoliday,

    I had one of those "oblivion" thoughts yesterday. I don't know if you have them, but they kind of go like this:
     
    "Religion is good because it keeps the masses in line. If most people did not have religion, they might come to the realization that life doesn't make a bit of sense. We're all pretty much like a herd of gnus. We plod through our lives according to society's plan and then die. Everyting we were, everything we did, everything we might have thought, everything of us dies, comes to an end, ceases to exist. It doesn't matter how good you are or how famous you become, once you're dead all of your thoughts die with you."
     
    The problem with that train of thought is that it inevitably ends with looking for a place to die. I mean what's the point, right?
     
    Well, that's the whole point. Most people aren't thinking those things. They're too busy being so they don't have time to contemplate the obvious, which is a good thing because if a lot of people came to the realization there's no point to any of this, they might just end it all right then and there.
     
    The one thing that keeps me going is my stories. There are a few people out there you like what I write. A lot of people get really pissed when I stomp on a character like Zach. He's a pretty likeable guy, but he's going through a horrendous time and gets stomped physically and emotionally quite a bit.
     
    I've thought about writing a nice, regular story about nice, regular guys who live nice, regular lives going through the motions of living, agonizing over whether so-and-so thinks they're as hot as they know they are, having unbelievable sex, going to the mall and seeing their ex in the food court, having unbelievable sex, going to the water park and see one really hot dude, having unbelieavable sex, etc., etc., etc.
     
    But, I can't.
     
    My new story has a boy who had bacterial meningitis and lived; except, he's not quite right in the head. He can't remember very well. He sees things we don't see. He talks "funny." And, well, in the beginning, he's hornier than a rabbit and is almost entirely focused on sex. He gets involved with someone who is a whole lot crazier than he is and tragedy strikes, but this is a long story so we know he's going to come out of it in the end.
     
    I think what I like most about Kevin is he's vulnerable. He's easily led down the path of destruction and he almost doesn't get out with his life. But, this is a "bunnies frolicking in a flowery meadow" story, so he gets the chance to not be so vulnerable, which may put him in greater danger because he'll be more like the rest of us.
     
    Oh, yes, I'm a little down. Things haven't been going well recently. I know I've been way up there these past few days, but all good things must, eventually, come to an end. I try to stay up because I really like feeling really, really good. The opposite of down is a nice place to be, but I'm down more than up so you have to learn to deal with down, too. So I write stories that are a little down.
     
    Sorry for dumping, but like I said, things haven't been going well, recently.
     
    You know, I dread the day when I can't think of any more stories.
  7. CarlHoliday

    121.9 in Madera

    By CarlHoliday,

    Okay, I'll admit right up front I'm trying to lose a little weight. Heck, I've been trying to lose a little weight since I don't remember when, probably around the time my nickname was "Tubby" and I figured out the other kids weren't trying to be nice.
     
    So, my latest ploy at losing weight is to do it metrically. Using kg's I only have to go down 21.9. Using good ol' avoidupois, I need to drop over 40 and that's a lot to drop. Plus when losing kg's a little goes a long way.
     
    I broke the 122 barrier today when I checked my weight in Madera after delivering my load to a box plant in Tulare, which reminds me of the song Volare. I think the most important factor helping me lose weight is I've told Little Debbie to take a hike.
     
    I'd like to say more, but I'm starting to nod off. I've been up since 0500 and have to get out on the road by 0630 tomorrow so I have a chance of getting home some time on Thanksgiving, not that we're going to have turkey because we aren't. We'll go out because that's what we do.
     
  8. CarlHoliday
    Okay, so you didn't get to vote. Maybe you should've sent a comment like Old Bob. If you've got any complaints, send them his way.
     
    No, I'm not going to change the title every month, but I might do it annually.
     
    I'm still riding a euphoric high right now, so enjoy this happy mood while you can.
     
    I'm working very hard on the Kevin project. The words are coming together and if all goes according to plan (i.e., I don't have a setback on the depression front, etc.) Kevin should be ready to roll-out just about the time Pastel completes.
     
    On the local front, my mother is still dying. Take it from me, pray for the big one. You don't want to go through what's happening to her. Actually, it's her body that's going through this. Mother checked out a while ago. She was taken out of her latest residence and moved to hospice because the hospice nurses thought she was very close to finding the exit door. But, she isn't, so now we have to put her somewhere else.
     
    A friend of the family says I should bury the hatchet and go see my mother and tell her it's okay for her to die. You know, give my permission so she can die in peace. F**k that! She's never needed or asked my permission to do anything.
     
    Okay, so I'm being petty about this, but I've been going through some old memories over the past year as mother has ever steadily progressed toward her final breath. Ridicule. That's the lastest word to pop up out of Memory Lane. My parents loved me so much they felt they could ridicule me along with everyone else. When you have the self-esteem of the underside of a doormat a little ridicule goes a long way toward making you feel so good.
     
    What makes me really sad is that I took the crap they were dishing out. I was the good son. Well, I was an only child so I was also the bad son, the mediocre son, and the "I'll never understand why you didn't come out as a girl" son. I think the favorite phrase around the house always seemed to be "why can't you be more like _________?" And, I hung my head in shame for failing to be more like everyone else in the world who was better than me at everything.
     
    Now, don't we feel better? Got some of the icky bile stuff out of our system and now we're ready to be our old happy self.
     
    And, thanks again Old Bob for the train of thought that led to the renaming of this blog.
     
     
  9. CarlHoliday

    100

    By CarlHoliday,

    Well, I gone and done it this time.
     
    I saw that Graeme was celebrating his 17th anniversary and, of course, I had to congratulate him. Seventeen years is quite an accomplishment. (I don't exactly remember number 17, but I'm sure we had fun. We'll be doing number 34 this year. Can you imagine living with the same person for 34 years?)
     
    Well, that post put me over the hump.
     
    I've been worried I wouldn't hit 100 posts before my 1st anniversary here, but Graeme did it to me. Now, I suppose I'll have to aim for doubling my total before my second annivesary. It's only logical.
     
    I finished the stuff I was doing for the website and sent it off to the techies to do their magic wanding stuff. Personally, I think I did a fairly pathetic job of it. Well, I did the words okay, but the meager graphics aren't anything to write home about. The techie person who is helping me said he'd look at the mess I've made and try to sort things out into to some semblance of a presentable product. I think that's what he said. I guess.
     
    So, that means I'm back on the Kevin project; and, I am working on it. Now that I know how I want Kevin to see the world through his disease damaged brain, I think everything will start to fall into place. I think I'm going to try very hard to make this story as poignant as possible without actually killing a lot of the characters, which is sort of the easy way to get a reader teary eyed, especially if you can do it in some horrendously bloody accident or something. A graphic decapitation has always been one of my favorites, but I remember reading somewhere about a kid who was severed in half at the waist. Now, that would be poignant as hell, but I'm not going to do that to my readers. Maybe a lost love or an impossible love, but no killing off characters just to draw a tear or two.
     
    I finally had a volunteer step forward to look at my winter anthology story. The volunteer sort of came out of left field, but I'll take any opinion I can get.
     
    I'm back to work tomorrow. I pick up a load in Tacoma tomorrow morning and I'll be heading for sunny California. I hope it's sunny. Last time the rain followed my down the valley.
     
     
  10. CarlHoliday

    Weed to Home

    By CarlHoliday,

    I'm home sitting on the bed in pajamas with my laptop on my lap and cute, little Bonita beside me sleeping, playing, cleaning, or simply ignoring me. Pets are like that. They'll give you all their love, but it's on their terms. Dogs are better than cats, though. At least they don't give you a hair ball every few days. There's nothing like the sound of a retching cat.
     
    Yesterday morning, I was waking up in Weed, CA. I like Weed. It's small town America in the mountains. Last Saturday when I drove through Weed (US-97 from Yakima), three boys were out at the skate park. It was cold and they were bundled up, but the sun was sort of out and, although the wind was brisk, there they were enjoying themselves in the great out of doors. Snowy Mount Shasta rises up behind the park and there are pine trees. It looks absolutely inviting, but there's no parking for big trucks.
     
    I like it when I see kids playing outside. I've driven through a lot of small towns at every hour of the day and you'd be surprised at the number of empty backyards and parks I've seen. Sometimes a town will seemingly be totally devoid of the sound of playing children. It's scary to think of all those chubby cheeks and flabby butts sitting inside their homes doing nothing more physical than walking to the kitchen to get another bag of chips.
     
    I'm still looking for a beta reader for my winter anthology story. I sent a snippet and description to TalonRider to see if he can find someone will to help, but I'm not holding my breath on this. It's just so damn frustrating sometimes, but that's what happens when you head down the creative path and discover there are few who want to help you along your way.
     
    The material for my website is finally coming together. I spent a couple hours this morning finally mortaring some of the bricks in place and seeing the final structure in my head. Hopefully, it will be enjoyable to one and all, but I'm not holding my breath on this one either.
     
    And, I'm back on the Kevin project. I want it ready to go once I've completed posting "Pastel." When "Tim" finishes, I think I'm going to post my first novel. It's a fun read and not too violent if you don't count the child abuse, that is.
     
    Finally, I made my 97th post this morning. Three more to go! I think I just might make 100 posts before my one year anniversary.
     
    Lastly, if we go out today, I just might find out how much a three inch green gecko is going to cost. I'd like to have a picture of that little bugger gracing my website. I certainly know all of you want to look at a little green gecko happily sitting on my hairy arm, though I am thinking of having it on the pearly white, hairless side of my bicep with it crawling up into my hairy pit. I know there are people out there who get that tingly feeling everytime they look at a hairy pit and I want to do my part to make them feel good.
     
     
  11. CarlHoliday

    It's giggle time!

    By CarlHoliday,

    I got really, really silly today.
     
    I was so high on myself I was having trouble holding a decent conversation with myself. Endorphins were dripping out of my nostrils I was so happy.
     
    I haven
  12. CarlHoliday
    Today, I drove down I-5 from the Petro truck stop in Corning, CA, to the Petro in Wheeler Ridge, CA. It was a nice quiet drive except for the accident at the bridge over the Mokelumne River. From what I could see, someone went over the bridge railing. Firemen were getting out backboards so there were a few survivors.
     
    Other than that, it was a pleasant trip and I was able to come up with a couple story ideas.
     
    The first had to do with what is in my trailer. Imagine, if you will, free range apples. They
  14. CarlHoliday

    Getting it done

    By CarlHoliday,

    Yesterday, I had some time before I had to deliver a load of empty boxes to the pumpkin seed place in Fresno so I was able to finish my winter anthology story. I've decided the title will be "Walkabout" because that's basically what this story is about, at least in the beginning. The village where the story begins has a tradition of allowing boys who reach the age of 16 to go on a one or two year walkabout too see other places on the planet and decide if they want to come back to the village and be a fisherman the rest of their life. This story concerns a boy who will be going on a walkabout and his best friend who plans on staying in the village and marrying the girl he's engaged to.
     
    The story takes place some time in the distant future, say a little over 100,000 years from now. It's related to my last to anthology stories in that it takes place on Glandar, but the time frame for this story is about halfway between the other two.
     
    There is a bit of violence and the threat of even more violence. This may be the future, but this little corner of the future is about as backwoods as you can get.
     
    Of course, religion gets kicked in the shins, too. What would a story by me be without a little religion bashing? Not that I'm against religions, they're very important for some people. It calms the masses because a little hocus-pocus mumbo jumbo every Sunday morning goes a long way toward keeping the masses focused on going to work, being good citizens, and coming back next Sunday with a goodly tithe because the preacher still has a few payments on the Mercedes.
     
    I put up a request for a beta reader because the story is over 11,000 words and I'm not certain if it's good enough to put into the anthology. I guess what I'm looking for is a strong critical read, something that Graeme is good at which you might know if you've ever had one of your stories Graemed. As of right now, no one has taken me up on the offer. You know, though, I'm a beta reader myself, so maybe if things get desparate, I'll have to volunteer to give my story a good critical read.
     
    Finishing the story means I now have time to do other necessary tasks, like putting up the next chapter of "The Pastel Cowboy." Chapter 11 is rather innocuous being mostly about Zach and Jeremy. I guess you could say it's a "warm and fuzzy" chapter, if that makes any sense. I can do "warm and fuzzy," honest.
     
    Now, I can get to work on my website project.
     
    Plus, put some time and effort into the Kevin project, which I desparately need to do.
     
    Well, I'd better get some sleep because it's supposed to be foggy in the Willamette Valley tomorrow morning and I hate driving in fog. Bright eyed and bushy tailed and ever ready to drive 60 mph in zero visibility. Sounds like fun, doesn't it?
     
  15. CarlHoliday

    They might die

    By CarlHoliday,

    I worked on the Winter Anthology story today and got quite a bit done.
     
    I think the two boys are going to die.
     
    I don't want them to die, but the way the story is going it seems inevitable that they'll die.
     
    I just haven't quite figure out how to go about setting it up because if they die both of them have to die at the same time. You know, that together in death thingy. It's such a cliche, but what to do otherwise.
     
    Orignally, I planned on them being taken away to a paradise of sorts, but that's making their captors into something they might not be.
     
    So, if they don't go to paradise, what do I do with them?
     
    Where they're going they can't get out of unless someone pulls off some miracle.
     
    And, it's not some place where they can continue living because resources are being expended for their existence, resources that could be better used elsewhere.
     
    But, what to do with them?
     
    I'm thinking they can become B'na. It takes awhile, but the initial injection basically obliterates the mind; or, at a minimum it dissolves free will. The B'na can think. They have personalities. They, themselves, remember being like humans, but what about real humans. Will the boy's personalities remain as they go through the processes to become immortal?
     
    Or, maybe, one of the boys will do something with his technical skills.
     
    Or, maybe, they'll simply be sold into slavery and taken to a labor colony on another planet.
     
    I'm not so certain this story is going to have a happy ending. So far, it certainly hasn't been a happy story.
     
    Very dark and gloomy.
     
    Oh, well, I'm tired and hopefully I'll have a load going south to California.
     
  17. CarlHoliday

    Naughty Doctor

    By CarlHoliday,

    I'm home for the weekend. Two straight days, two meals at my favorite Mexican restaurant.
     
    Thursday, I figured it was time to post another chapter of The Pastel Cowboy, but when I read through Chapter 10 I realized I couldn't post it without some serious editing. In the Nifty version, there is a graphic description of a sex act between a young patient and his doctor. As far as I'm concerned, this one definitely crossed the line and couldn't show up in GA as written. (Yes, even I have some degree of propriety.)
     
    So, that bit is now written as a hallucination that implies a sex act that probably didn't occur, although something does happen.
     
    The Kevin Project is sort of moving forward. I haven't written anything today or yesterday. I'm beginning to think I might write Kevin's pieces as a continuous narrative to maintain some degree of character integrity through to the end. When I'm done, I'll break it apart and insert the other characters' pieces. I definitely do not want this project to end up with some sort of block attached to it. I like Kevin. He's a good kid who deserves to have his story told.
     
    Also, I need to get work on the winter anthology story. There's not a lot of time left.
     
    Also, I going to try to go back to my former employer. I'm not getting enough miles with the new company. They're paying me more per mile, but I'm not getting comparable mileage to make more money. Three and a half days to drive 980 miles is ridiculous. Three days to do 300 miles is even stupider (dumber?) (idiotic?).
     
    I thought the grass was greener on the other side of the street. Well, in a way it is greener, it just doesn't taste better.
     
  18. CarlHoliday

    Home, again

    By CarlHoliday,

    I went to work on Tuesday and drove up to Hermiston, OR, for a delivery in Pendleton Wednesday morning, which I made but was and hour and a half late because I missed my turn because I relied on Gatesian reality and not the directions I received from my company, but it was a nice drive through some pretty countryside, albeit not with a 53 foot trailer following my down the one and a half lane road that bicyclists really like because it's a nice ride through some pretty countryside.
     
    Luckily, there were no bicyclists out at 06:00. There was just a lot of dark air hanging around obscuring my vision. According to Gates, I wanted Garden Ave. I came to Golden Ave and thought, "Okay, Garden Ave will be next."
     
    NO!
     
    I should've gone with Golden. If there hadn't been so much dark air, I might have seen the Coors sign. I didn't. I, also, didn't use the last possible place to turn the truck around and followed the little one and a half lane road that, by the way, had the proper yellow stripe down the middle of it. It took me 45 minutes to drive 15 miles before I found a place where a 53 foot trailer could be turned around. I was probably 5 miles from the freeway and could've gone on if I things couldn't get worse, but things had already gotten worse and I didn't want to compound my problem by possibly coming to a 13' 6" underpass when I have a 14' trailer.
     
    So, I deliver the beer and head up to Selah, WA, to pick up a load of apples headed for Puyallup. Then I go home for the night.
     
    Yesterday, I took an empty trailer back over the mountains to Selah and dropped it at the apple warehouse. I then went down to Yakima to retrieve another empty trailer at a repair shop, and dropped it at the apple warehouse. I hooked to another trailer and waited for it to be loaded with 20 tons of Galas. I delivered that trailer to the distributor in Puyallup last night.
     
    And, I'm home, again.
     
    This is nice, except I ain't making no money doing 650 miles in three days. I wasn't given a load last night, so I don't know what I'll be doing today.
     
    I'm working on the new book tentatively titled, "Chartreuse." It's going slow, but not so slow that I'm afraid of losing it. I'm on the third chapter. It's not going quite according to plan, though. That's to be expected.
     
    Kevin, the brain damaged kid, is growing on me. Well, this is his story, after all. Initially, I planned to have the other characters' narratives tell Kevin's story. That was a great idea, but I ran into situations where Kevin does things vital to the story where he's the only character involved in the action. To convey those situations needs Kevin to be a little less brain damaged than initially conceived.
     
    So, Kevin gets a few more lines.
     
    Then, there is the problem with the number of murders Kevin will commit. Initially, he was going to kill four, but now I'm thinking he'll only do two. Nick, the bad kid, kills everyone else. There's no problem there. What I need is the possibility of a judge, or jury, depending on whether or not his case stays in juvenile court, finding Kevin innocent of the crime, or to have diminished capacity and be convicted of some lesser charge.
     
    If he's found innocent, there's a scenario he will go live with his uncle on a small island in the San Juan Islands in Washington State. If he's found guilty of something, he ends up in an institution of some sort. Either scenario leads to Kevin meeting his nephew thirty-five years later; unless he ends up in a life-term facility, in which case the story comes to an abrupt end before it gets out the door.
     
    Well, I better go get cleaned up and see if I have a load to pick up somewhere this morning. Hopefully, it will be something other than a load of apples out of Selah.
     

  19. CarlHoliday
    There's always been this big mystery in my life and it's bugged the heck out of me for I don't know how long.
     
    My father's father was an immigrant from Sweden. The story in the family was that when he got to Ellis Island and was asked his name he said, "I am Carl Daniel Y______. I left everything in Sweden including my name. I will be known from now on by an American name."
     
    Well, that's the story. From what I know about what happened on Ellis Island, it's just as likely he said his name in broken Swedish and the clerk changed it to Y_______.
     
    But, what was his name before? That's what I wanted to know. My dad didn't know. It was a family secret. I didn't even know where in Sweden Grandfather came from. Plus, I couldn't ask him as he died three years before I was born.
     
    This weekend I was going through some of the papers my mother saved throughout her life. (Do you know, she saved every letter I wrote to her and my aunt and uncle when I was in the service? I tossed those suckers, quick!) I came across a death certificate for my grandfather's sister, whose last name was also changed to Y______. Seems her father's last name was Petersen and she was from Leksand, Sweden.
     
    I also learned my great grandfathers name was Daniel, which is nice since my "real" name is also Daniel.
     
    Oh, and the 3:33?
     
    Well, strange as it may seem, I've been waking up at 3:33 every morning for the past three days. One of those wide awake, look at the clock and it's 3:33. Maybe it was because I was at home. Maybe it was because I was suddenly busy with the new story, which I don't want to start, but seem to be forcing myself to start.
     
  20. CarlHoliday
    Today, while waiting for a load in our Portland yard, I finished the rewrite of the last chapter of Tim and the Corsair. I wish I could share with you want I wrote, but I can't spoil your own experience with the story.
     
    I think I achieved a high degree of poignancy, though.
     
    I think I reached a closing for all the necessary characters.
     
    I think I came to a point where THE END fit into the story.
     
    In the first version, on Nifty if you care to read it, Tim and Geoff don't meet until late in life.
     
    In this revised version, I wanted Tim and Geoff to meet while Geoff was still in high school.
     
    I think I rearranged their lives in a logical manner to make this possible.
     
    Unfortunately, I had to dramatically affect Geoff's life to the point where suicide once again seemed like a logical solution to his problems.
     
    Tim, well, he simply needed a way to get back to North Park to meet up with Geoff.
     
    I wish I could tell you how it all came together, but I can't. You'll just have to wait.
     
    Tim and the Corsair ends at Chapter 20 with this sentence: I took him in my arms and kissed him as if there was no one around.
     
    I wish I could tell you where they were kissing. I wish I could tell you who was kissing Geoff. We know it was Geoff because the story is written in first person, but you'll have to wait to find out if it was Tim who was being kissed.
     
    I think the last scene was poignant.
     
    I wanted it to be poignant.
     
    I'll have to wait to see what you think.
     
    **************
     
    My next story will aim for a poignant ending, too. I've decided the main character will not be developmentally disabled, but will have survived meningitis. Kevin (I like the name Kevin as it sounds vulnerable. It's a good name for a victim; and, in a sense Kevin will be a victim, even though he will kill at least four times.) will have had meningitis at some pre-teen age and he will have significant injury to cognitive abilities wherein his mental age will be somewhere around eleven, but he will excel at certain physical abilities which will play into the hands of those who will control his life. As I see it, at this moment, Kevin will die from colon cancer somewhere around age sixty-five or seventy. So you see I'm looking at a story that will traverse many years of one person's life. I'd like to be able to have the ending literally soaked in tears. I'd also like to be able to have the reader laugh at inapprorpriate times.
     
  21. CarlHoliday

    Crap your pants

    By CarlHoliday,

    Two days ago when I was driving up the Central Valley of California I saw a cloud of dust over on the other side of the freeway. It was a huge vineyard and I figured a farmer type was doing some sort of farmer job and making a lot of dust in the process. They're doing it all the time all along the freeway, so it's not all that uncommon to see a cloud of dust blow out onto the interstate.
     
    Suddenly, a car flies out of the dust cloud and bounces up onto the pavement. I thought for a second it was going to continue across the median and crash into me or some other unlucky driver, but, no, the out of control car heads back into the shoulder for a second trying at maiming a bunch of grapes before flying back onto the pavement where it fishtails as the driver is trying to regain control. Finally the car spins around and comes to a stop in the middle of both southbound lanes.
     
    I breathed a sigh of relief because if the fool had rolled it, I would've had to do the good citizen thing of rendering aid. The problem with rolling vehicles is unbuckled drivers or passengers being partially ejected and
    having various body parts crushed between a heavy vehicle and dirt. The last thing I wanted to see was a squashed head. The car stayed upright and on the pavement, so it was the responsibility of the southbound drivers to swerve and jostle around until the dust cleared; hopefully not plowing into the fool who was probably thanking a favority diety for not allowing Death to do his nasty deed.
     
    I bet the driver crapped in his/her pants; or, at least, pissed a bit. Something like that can be so unnerving you just never know what's going to come of it.
     
    That stretch of road is long, straight, and very boring. If you're not careful, you to can run right off the road.
     
    Today, I worked on my new story as I drove from Corning, CA, to Tualatin, OR.
     
    I made myself all teary eyed from a whole lot of poignancy.
     
    I think I'm going to do the story in different POVs with each character doing their own bit, while one character will not have anything to say until close to the very end. It's because he is developmentally disabled, kind of like a number of kids I've seen in the past few years. Sort of Forrest Gumpish, I guess.
     
    I'm almost finished with the last chapter of Tim, so I'll be able to start on the new story soon.
     
     
  22. CarlHoliday

    The End!

    By CarlHoliday,

    It's over!
     
    There's nothing more I can do.
     
    Nothing.
     
    I've come to the end and there's no use in going further.
     
    The Pastel Cowboy has been a fun journey, but when Zach said, "____ ______ _______ since I found out I was gay," I couldn't see any reason to do anything other than write, "THE END."
     
    Now, all I have to do is write the new end to "Tim" and my submission for the Winter Anthology. Only then will I be in a position to decide what project I'm going to do next.
     
    I know I'll be putting my first novel up. That's definite, but it probably won't be until all of "Tim" or "Pastel" are up on GA. I don't need three projects running at the same time. It's bad enough doing two, plus a quarterly anthology, plus wondering if I'll ever get back to writing something suitable Glimmer Train.
     
    I've said in the past I might do a side story from my first novel, which will tell's the story of the gay son whose relationship with his father goes from best bud to revulsion to sexual attraction. All of that is covered in the novel, but I was wondering what it would look like from the son's POV.
     
    There is also the side story from "Tim" that is about Mark the football player.
     
    Or, maybe something completely new.
     
    There is the sci-fi stuff that I seem to be hung up on with my anthology stories. I do have a story titled "Game Farm" where humans are the game hunted by aliens who relish our tender flesh, but that's something that's already been written.
     
    I really want something completely new.
     
    I'll have to think about it.
     

  23. CarlHoliday

    Home, again

    By CarlHoliday,

    Well, I'm at home, again.
     
    Last night I was supposed to deliver a load of licorice to a local mini-mart distributor, but the delivery dates got messed up and they wouldn't take delivery. When everyone finally figured out what was going on I was sent to the Puyallup yard to drop the trailer and sent home to wait for another load. I leave tomorrow morning for sunny California, delivering on Tuesday.
     
    What have I done at home? Nothing.
     
    Though, tonight we went to our favorite Mexican restaurant and met the new manager, who happens to be the manager from a location we used to go to.
     
    He and the wife were having a dandy conversation about why we stopped going to his restaurant and spent most of our time at the one that has become our favorite. The wife was beautiful in her fabrication of a fictional reason for us to stop frequenting one place in lieu of spending all of our time at another. I thought I was good at coming up with fiction, but she's far better and I think actually believes the stories she comes up with.
     
    Tonight's lie was the previous occupant of our current restaurant was a Mexican restaurant, too. Actually, it was a pizzeria, but who am I to correct her when the guy she was talking to probably didn't know the truth. Where she came up with this story is beyond me, but she does this so well.
     
    She also gets caught and it's beautiful to watch her being humilated when someone points out everything she said was a baldfaced lie. One of the more memorable occasions was to older women from Switzerland who were talking about wearing a certain kind of coat when they were children in Zurich. From what they were saying, the coats were big, bulky, and extremely unattractive, but very durable. The wife stepped in and agreed, actually claiming she knew what these women were talking about because she had gone through the same embarrassment as a child. They skewered her.
     
    So, tonight I let her go on and on with her lie.
     
    The reason we stopped going to the other restaurant? Well, at the time, that location purchased their butter from a different supplier than all the other locations in the chain. I guess each manager is able to choose their own suppliers. Well, the butter suddenly became quite sour and had a pickled flavor which was totally unacceptable. That was our primary reason. A secondary reason was the wait staff stopped acknowledging us a frequent customers. We been patronizing that location for over five years and suddenly it was as if we'd never been there. Well, if you're not welcome one place and very welcome at another, the logical answer is to change restaurants, which is what we did.
     
    Yet, the wife had to come up with some off the wall story about us frequently all the Mexican restaurants that had been at this one location when there has been only one.
     
    You're probably thinking this is one of the reasons I love her so much, but I don't. I stopped loving her a long time ago. I tolerate her, pity her, and am so use to her presence in my life I see no reason to discontinue our relationship. Besides, you never know when you're going to need a good story.
     
     
  24. CarlHoliday

    Home, WA

    By CarlHoliday,

    Well, not exactly the community of Home because there is a community on the Key Peninsula called Home.
     
    No, I'm at home.
     
    Silly me forgot my pill supply when I went out. Of course, silly me believed the recruiter when she said, "We like to get all our drivers home every week."
     
    Male Bovine Waste!
     
    So, I needed to get home tonight or tomorrow to restock.
     
    So, my load delivered in Chehalis, WA, which is 50 miles south of here. I was suppose to get an empty trailer and take it to Puyallup, but Chehalis didn't have any empty trailers they wanted to part with.
     
    So, my dispatcher comes up with a plan. He has a load that is supposed to deliver in Lakewood tomorrow night. I take it.
     
    Then I remember my car is at the Portland yard.
     
    So, I take an empty rail trailer from Chehalis to Portland, park my truck, and get in my car and drive home.
     
    I'll go back tomorrow and get the load coming back up here. I'm almost certain my dispatcher was not a truck driver, but has a BA in something. He acts like he has a BA in something. Very smart, but so dumb he comes up with the stupidest shit; or, maybe, he's just dumb to begin with. Some people are like that, just naturally dumb. Just like some people are natural assholes; they can't help it because it's in their genes.
     
    Of course, it might have a lot to do with the Full Moon. All the crazies, stupids, dumbs, and really wacked out people come out of the woodwork and try to act normal.
     
    Don't tell anyone, but I came up with a new way to do it. My car is small and I figured out I could turn into a semi-trailer. At 70 mph I will mostly certainly die, not that I want to right now, but as I was driving up I-5 tonight, I figured it out. Scared the piss out of me because everytime I passed a semi I was judging the space and if my car could tuck under the trailer before being obliterated. I'd have many a second before a lot of physical forces went about rending my car and me into a tangled mass.
     
    Oh, by the by, I've already come up with a storyline for the Winter Anthology. More sci-fi stuff.
     
  25. CarlHoliday

    Frazier Park, CA

    By CarlHoliday,

    I drove for three and a half hours yesterday.
     
    I deliver today at noon.
     
    It's cold here this morning.
     
    Do I sound BORED?
     
    I hope this isn't how things are going to be with this company.
     
    I mean, I should welcome all the free time, but dilly-dallying down the road is a bit tiring.
     
    Well, I wasn't going to go to the customer loc last night and park overnight on a street in Metro LA. Mostly, because I don't have a sign that says, "Rob me, I don't have a gun!" Not that I'm saying Metro LA is a high crime area because it is. We're warned about going down there. "Be careful, watch out, be on your guard, park in a safe and secure location." I don't consider parking on the side of a street near a customer warehouse safe and secure.
     
    So, I stopped at the Flying J in Frazier Park. Had an okay dinner last night.
     
    But, I didn't work on the two stories I'm supposed to be working on. I'm too bored to do that.
     
    Also, I ran off and left my prescription supply at home. I had seven days worth thinking I'd be back in seven days, as in when the recruiter told me, "We like to get our drivers home every week." A week is seven days, right?
     
    So, I skipped a day. Now, I can last until Friday, unless I skip another day, which means I don't have to get home until Saturday. It's not like not taking my meds is going to kill me. Well, not taking the antidepressant might make me a little dangerous to myself, but I've been there before. Heck, I'm there quite often, but I don't actually do it. Like most people, I hope, I don't really want to do it; or, heaven forbid, get caught in the act of doing it and lose my job, lose my CDL, lose everything, which would be kind of like doing it, but not actually doing it.
     
    It's all a state of mind. I am okay. A little depressed maybe, but I am okay.
     
    Really, you can trust me on this. I am okay.
     
    It's just I have to get home so I can get my supply of pills so I don't have to force myself to be okay. I can be medicated into thinking I'm okay, which is so much easier.
     
    Don't tell anyone, but I've been thinking about my next series. Nothing definite, but it's out there bugging the shit out of me.
     
    Well, guess I'd better get going. 95 miles to go. At this time of morning, maybe 3 hours? I-5 to I-605 to customer warehouse.
     
    Oh, hey, one other thing. If you get the chance and you haven't already tried reading my stories, how about zipping over to eFiction and checking out some of my stuff. Thanks!
     
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