Shorthand for Nothing

An excerpt:

I wish I could say “time stopped moving.” That would be easier. I wish there were some clear logical way to explain it, some rules that it followed. There aren’t any. The nearest I can get is this:

Time stopped moving, but everyone kept going anyway, for the most part.

Except it didn’t really stop. It just moved in fits and starts. The sun would be hanging in the sky for three days and then suddenly it’s night time, two weeks later. Or sometimes it would just be a few hours later. Sometimes it’s like everything stopped happening and sometimes it’s like the clocks and the sun aren’t moving but the trains still run and we could still do whatever.

The worst part is that the intervening time didn’t happen. It’s just suddenly I’d be somewhere else, a new context, in the middle of something sometimes, and I’d just have to figure out what’s going on. Eventually you learn to play it by ear.

It’s hard, though. “Relearning to walk” doesn’t begin to cover it when it’s the rules you thought the universe followed that have stopped working. And they don’t even have the decency to break them in ways that make sense.

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I finally got around to reading Joey Comeau’s Lockpick Pornography yesterday. It is a pretty quick read, and the whole thing is online as a PDF at the link there.

He describes it as a “genderqueer adventure story,” and that is probably the best description I can think of for it. You wouldn’t expect a book about LGBT (as people or as a movement) to be light-hearted and fun, and I think that’s a lot of its charm. It’s fun without being mindless. It asks good questions and makes you think, and while it has some parts which are kind of bleak, it’s not too serious and it doesn’t moralize. It made me think about “the movement” and about gender and sexuality, both generally and specifically. It has some refreshing perspective.

It’s a pretty fun read overall. In places it definitely feels like a first draft or a first novel or something: not quite finished, a little sloppy. But it was a nice way to spend the evening and I feel like I’ve gained something from reading, which doesn’t happen often enough anymore.

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I left this on a napkin once for a waitress who just looked like poetry. I don’t mean that to be weird, but she was cute on a level that made me want to leave this for her. I don’t think I ever saw her again, which is weird because I was there all the time.

She smells like quiet drives in the rain.
The weather is cold and unpleasant
but the car is warm
and the windshield wipers freshly changed
(And from the car it’s easy to imagine:
the rain is clean and renewing)

And despite the clouds blocking the sun
it’s bright out
and the colors are clearer
than the sunniest of days.
Such a day could not be called dreary.

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Another one from the archives.

You’d make a wonderful actress.
I can see you on the silver screen,
eyes bright, a room full of people,
a captive audience–
something you never had in me.
They would hang on your every word,
make a note of everything you say,
because, after all,
you’re the star.

Would you even enjoy it?
The attention, the praise,
the undue adulation,
everything I never gave you?
Or do you think you’re entitled,
that your magnificence is eminent?
Either way I can see you,
accepting an award, feigning modesty,
but in your eyes,
there’s always that look,
like you deserve all this.

This is one that struck me on the read through I was mentioning a few days ago, because I wasn’t sure if I’d written it about a real person. That is, I am pretty sure I know who this could be about, though I’m by no means certain, but it’s not a very good description of her. I like this one, though it’s not the most brilliant thing ever penned, and it sounds a little petulant.

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This installment is about the bout of insomnia that made my insomnia legendary, among certain circles. (more…)

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For some reason I have been recently explaining themes and motifs to people a fair amount. I am not going to do so here, but I have been thinking about themes and motifs, and I realized it’s generally themes that my more ambitious projects are really lacking. It’s always story first, then later on, a theme would happen. They are fun to write, and they are usually not too bad to read, but their lack of a driving purpose tends to keep me from actually finishing them.

My short stories tend to start with a theme, which is why I spend so much time hunting for a title for them: I want it to encapsulate the theme in some way. And the short stories tend to be solid, and I complete them easily and usually think they are pretty decent. Sometimes it gets lost on the way. I’ve got a theme in mind for a new one, and I will probably work on it as soon as possible. It will be called ‘Stalker.’ Isn’t that fun?

(This is true of my best very short fiction, also, though I write so much of that it’s hard to say there is a rule for it.)

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This section starts with a quote from Hunter S. Thompson. It’s about taking flight, in more ways than one. (more…)

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I’ve started up another of my many projects-I-will-never-finish, and it’s very closely tied to another one, which was called Let My Sting Be Fatal, and I suspect it will bear the same title, but maybe not. I’m going to be trying new things with it, which is hopefully going to be fun. It will be a weird mix of things which are true and things which are not. It will be an autobiography that is mostly lies, a tell-all that keeps everything secret, a memoir that I mostly made up. It’s not a new concept but it’s new for me. I think I will put it up here.

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Yesterday was a “Getting Things Done” gathering of the Hello Silo crew that hasn’t gone to SXSW, which, as is to be expected, was a combination between productivity, interesting conversations, and interesting conversations that completely hampered productivity. I very probably could have gotten more done at home or in smaller groups, but I accomplished a few important goals (but I’m not telling; a life needs secret plans) and wrote some things. Even if I didn’t get terribly far, I have a solid conceptual basis for a number of stories now, including the title that had until just then eluded me: “Follow All Posted Signs.” That is really the hardest part. I’m aiming for more writing-based productivity now, beyond the baseline of a blog post a day. So, exciting?

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Or, you know, whatever.

I’ve got about three years of material up on Dreamers Often Lie, some of which is less than stellar, but much of which is good stuff. I’ve always wanted to do something with it–compile the best of into a book, clean it up, maybe add some new content. I mean, this has always been an ultimate goal, but I’m starting to wonder if there isn’t something to the idea.

The problem: I have no idea where to begin. I’d prefer something more interesting than simply words on page–something to make it prettier than it is–but I have no talent in that particular field. I don’t know of any visual artists or photographers that seem like they’d be interested in working with me. And I have no idea who would even be interested in purchasing such a thing from me.

If I did make it, I’d have to publicize it, which I haven’t really made any effort to do before–and I’m not exactly sure where to begin there. I’d love to be able to tap into some of the brilliant PR that went into making YawnLog the hit that it was on such short notice, but don’t really want to ask, especially since none of them would have a personal interest in the finished product. And of course there’s the problem of ordering in bulk. I don’t want a bookshelf full of lonely copies of the Dreamers Often Lie book, but honestly, I’d consider it a smashing success if it sold ten copies.

I’m not sure what my options are, if there are any. If anyone has any thoughts or suggestions or would be interested in helping me out in some way, let me know. Maybe I’m just not looking in the right places.

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