My Brother Had A Birthday

He wasn't in town. So I improvised a little.









I sent him some baseball cards. Bringing back the memories of youth.
10 days later and he hasn't gotten it. Fucking post office.

"What the Hell Are You Doing With Your Time?"

I imagine this is what you would like to ask me if you check back daily to see if there's a new post here or the next bit of the short story I began a few weeks ago, only to see bupkis. Well, not much really. I'm trying to determine where the story is going, but haven't found a path that I find agreeable yet. I've been looking at job postings on the major job posting sites, but most of them have nothing but get-rich-quick or pyramid schemes. I guess those are both the same thing.

I've been reading a lot online. Mostly via Twitterers that I follow who post links to their blogs or articles about recent events. If you happen to see a link in my Twitter feed to the right, you can click on it. It's interactive so once your arrow pointer turns into a finger pointer (or whatever you may have changed your pointer to), give it a click and see just what I happen to be referring to there.

I've got numerous other activities that I can waste time with, and I do, but nothing worth writing about. Hopefully, inspiration will strike in the next few days and I can get back to that story. I'd been thinking about it so much before writing that first chapter that you'd think the plot would have been laid out before hand. I guess I was putting that off since I hadn't actually written anything. My procrastination skills are impressing me. I put off things that even I enjoy thinking about.

I did happen to realize the need for a way to quickly access the story. So, to the right, just under my Twitter feed, you'll notice a new section of links called "Short Story". Chapter 1 is posted there, and depending on the length of it all, I'll post each new chapter there. I'll add links to the end of each chapter to the subsequent chapter so it's easier for you to get from one to the next. I may just post the first and newest chapters under the "Short Story" section. That's something else I'll have to feel out, but HEY, it's over there!

Feeling Ranty

I slept pretty poorly last night, which I'll contribute to ice cream before bed, and I'm not feeling very prose-y right now. Otherwise you'd be reading Chapter 2.

I was just looking through some Facebook messages when I came across a status update from a teenage relative of mine. She said what she was going to be doing and then ended it with "cellll." I've seen my sisters use "textttt" to finish their status as well many many times and I guess the lack of REM has finally caused it to be bothersome to me. I only see this in teenagers. At least the few teenage relatives I have. I can only assume that they are trying to tell people to get in touch with them in these certain ways, but isn't that implied? No teenager has a land line anymore. Hell, I rarely see my sisters actually talking on their phones. Text messaging has become the preferred method of communication. I do it more often than talking and even my mom has been shooting me messages about weather or traffic if I'm out running errands. So, why do they need to specify how to get in touch with them? If they don't write something like that, are we to assume that they don't want to be bothered?

I just realized I'm droning on like Andy Rooney. "Why do they call them cell phones? Is it because you feel like you're a prisoner on parole? You can't leave your house unless you have your cell phone on you so the parole officer can find you at any time." Okay, so I'm no Andy Rooney. I'm more of a hack observational comic from the early to mid 1990s. Time to get some coffee.

Just Some Quickies

I read somewhere recently that traveling in an environment with less gravity, i.e. any form of flight, actually causes someone to age more rapidly. I don't know the exact science behind it, but scientists discovered the occurrence as they subjected fruit flies, or something, to zero-g environments. Even flying in an airplane causes this to occur due to the changes in air pressure we experience. Somehow I started thinking of the rapid aging we see in one of our presidents. Yes, their job is incredibly stressful and that alone could cause them to age poorly, but they also fly around a LOT. I wonder how President Obama will look after an eight-year tenure. Yeah, that's right. Eight years. I'm calling it here.

As I continue my search for a job I constantly see postings for the same company for the same positions. I happened to talk to someone who was working for one of these companies and quickly found it they were just glorified pyramid schemes. They try to hook you with the promise of increased compensation the longer you're with the company. Which got me to thinking of how it irks me to hear people talking about how much money they make but never what they do. These individuals have little regard for what they do as long as it gets them the beaucoup bucks. It doesn't matter who they exploit or step on along the way to achieve these ends. The most unsettling thing is that this trend seems to grow from one generation to the next and is perpetuated by some of the crap I see on TV glorifying those who are little more than trust-fund babies. They contribute nothing to society or help anyone else unless their publicists talk them into it. Anyone familiar with The Hills or the 1980s?

I'm working on the next chapter in the story I've begun. I'm trying to determine where this is going as well as a nice point to leave it to keep you coming back for more. It's coming though.

Catching Up On Some Reading

I've been amassing a large number of online articles that I wanted to read at one point, but felt I didn't have the time, over the past several months. I'm starting to read through a them and thought I'd just share some with you.

Let It Die - I enjoyed this solely for the historical look at our banking system. It's pretty biased, but I think it made a valid point towards the end of getting bankers and investors to stop what they're doing and actually contribute to society.

And He Shall Be Judged - A bit of an expose, I suppose, of Donald Rumsfeld's tenure with the Bush administration. The crap he pulled is pretty mind-boggling and it seems like the article is trying to help in redeeming Bush's legacy (This line in particular made me question the author's motives, "...Bush’s single most important domestic-policy achievement, the No Child Left Behind education initiative...") by placing more blame on his underlings. I think it's a sign of a poor leader to allow people working for you to manipulate the chain-of-command or impede the work of others, so Bush is still a crappy president in my book.

Economics of Star Trek - I've been watching a lot of the Next Generation television series in its syndicated reruns lately. I think this author may have been capitalizing on the hype of the new movie, but it's a question that's crossed my mind many times; If money doesn't exist in Star Trek, why do people work? He answers it fairly well and there are a few other articles linked at the end that have differing views on the subject.

15 Brilliant Business Card Designs - This one is just cool. Some very interesting designs that, if you were given one, wouldn't forget who gave it to you and what they did.

The Untold Story of the World's Biggest Diamond Heist - A loooooooong read. BUT veeeeeery interesting. It seems like something that came from a movie minus the montages of info gathering, practice, and then the heist itself.

Chapter 1

The pounding on the door wakes me. I lay in bed listening to the pattern and strength behind each slam. There's not enough anger behind them for it to be someone I owe money to. I'm glad I invested the rent money in a new deadbolt. That fucking excuse for a landlord isn't getting his money til I can get a decent hot shower. Moving in and out of my apartment through the fire escape is more of my style anyway. Sounds like my visitor is getting tired, or his fist is getting sore. He'll fuck off in a minute or two.

I sit up to survey my sanctuary. Damn. Same shithole I left behind before blacking out with my friend JD. "Casa de la Mierda" for those lucky enough to receive the grand tour. Garbage overflowing its containment. Dishes piled in the sink and broken fragments strewn across the floor. My lovely couch has a spring protruding from the back cushion that provides me with free acupuncture. I'm a firm believer in clearing my chakras regularly.

My left hand is still clutching my phone. I only made one call I don't remember. Guess I'm improving a little. I wish I had an idea of what the messages contained in the voicemails I leave for her. You can only record thirty to sixty seconds, on average before they cut you off, and this call was... Ten minutes. Fuck me. Hopefully I got to the heart of the matter early on and just rambled through the rest.

How nice, a manilla envelope slid under my door. What could it be? A summons? An eviction notice? Another guy/gal wanting me to tail his/her whore of a wife/husband? So many possibilities and so little desire to open it. The possibility of work and life is much to real to think about right now. If I start dwelling on it too much I'll...

Goddamn it. The next wave of pounding has begun to echo inside my head. The hangover has taken root and any chance of falling back to sleep is shot out the window. Whoa, would you look at that. My window's shot out. I thought it was a little draftier than usual this afternoon. Just another addition to the many fine examples in this apartment of my contempt for fine living. Guess I tried crawling through the wrong window last night. Impatience is one of my defining characteristics.

At least the pounding in my head keeps me aware of the condition of my heart. Strong beat. Good rhythm. Still broken. I'm glad my liver can't communicate with me in the same way. If it could, it would probably feel a lot like a machine gun with an unlimited ammo clip being unloaded into my gut at point-blank range as it yells obscenities at me over the roaring blasts. Enough of that though, my bladder is screaming out in mercy for release.

As I make my way over to the bathroom I hear some thunderous footsteps in the hallway growing louder. I pause at the door and so does the guy in the hall. I hear a number of sounds all at once, but it takes just a split second to know what they are. A large foot crushing against the center of a cheaply made door giving way heading right at my face.

"Oh fu-

And It Begins

I've written the first portion of the story I've been batting around in my head for weeks. It's something I've wanted to do for months, but I had a lot of trouble trying to figure out just how to start it off. I'm not completely sure where it's going to go, but it should provide for some interesting reading at the very least. Hopefully.

I'm not going to be writing any titles for each section. I'll use "Chapter __" so you can easily identify the story from any other posts I may interject between now and whenever it may be completed. I'm going to do my best to write anything that would be a book-length chapter, because I feel this medium doesn't really work as well for wordy posts. I don't foresee this interfering with the pace of the story. It'll be on me to properly keep the story going along with your interest. I may change my point of view on this as I get into the real meat and potatoes of the plot.

We shall see.