Changes

Misadventures has officially moved.  You can now find the blog over on wordpress.  I look forward to getting together with you there.

Crazy World

Where to begin?  You know that feeling you get where you think everyone else has it all together and you feel like you are no where?  Or is that just me?  Just thought I would put that out there...

Isn't it interesting that we have this facade of completeness (I am making some bold assumptions for everyone here.  Either that or I am projecting) when we actually feel like we are going no where?  So now I am basically just repeating myself right.  So where is it I am going with all this?

I did some word counts last night (yep, I pushed a couple buttons) and found that the long story I am working on is close to 16,000 words.  I am shooting for a 20,000 word piece so it may actually be nearing the end.  Where this will end up after I edit is a different story.  But at least I have some paramatours in place.

As much as I end up writing everyday, you would think 20,000 words would be nothing.  It has taken me close to two months for this.  I read about these people who do 300 page novels in less than a month.  This amazes me.  I put in roughly 500 to 1000 words a day for my bigger projects (taking about 1 day off a week to give some breathing room).  

As a pantser I discover the story as I go.  Essentially I write like I am reading a book.  I am not a marathon reader either.  The book I am reading just for fun right now, I have had a little over a month and am now 75% through it.  Again I feel like I am moving at a snails pace compared to everyone else around me.

I have to remind myself that my race is different than other peoples races.  I have been keeping track of how much I write everyday.  This is a good thing to do at times, knowing the pace you are keeping will help you improve.  Something I realized through this, I am pretty much writing a NaNoWriMo every month, just not on one single thing.  My average is 1500 words a day.  Lately, I have been pushing to over 2000 in an effort to finish up this story.  There have been a few days when I have hit close to 3000 words.

I am saying all this more to put it all into perspective.  It is my hope that if you are slow like me it gives you a bit of hope that you are not alone.  If you are faster I would imagine it makes you happy that you aren't a poor schmuck like me.   Either that or I am just fishing for encouragement...

Bits and Pieces: Lost in Reno

Today's Bits and Pieces is a bit of a departure.  It is written in a first person perspective, something I have never really done in the past.  It gives a different feel to the story overall.  I also want to give a bit of warning.  There is a moment when it gets a bit racier than what I might normally share.  It isn't pornographic (down boy) but it is a bit more graphic than some may be comfortable with.  This warning is not to deter you from reading.  It is merely a warning so you don't send me angry letters because I didn't warn you. 

A bit of the history for this:  The first few lines of this piece came to me while I was in the shower one day.  Now that I think about it, that seems to be a running theme in the piece now...  Gah, read it I am going to talk to much now...

Lost in Reno

 

 

          Have you ever felt like you needed to change yourself? I don't mean self-improvement. I am thinking more along the lines of that scene in Pink Floyd's The Wall. You know the one, when he shaved off all visible hair from his face and head.

 

I have heard that shaving off your eyebrows is illegal, but I don't know the legality of waking up in Reno with a 38 in your hands and two bullets fired. The gun was cold at least. If it wasn't for the hotel stationary by the bedside phone I am not even sure I would have known I am currently in Reno.

The shower is running, steam billowing into the main room, fogging the mirror at the hotel room sink. I think I should introduce myself to whomever is there, but this might be socially awkward. I'm not even sure right now if this is my room.

After a quick assessment I figure the slacks, button down, paisley tie, and sport coat are mine. The coat fits me at least. It takes a few minutes to get dressed; the shower has stopped by the time I find some shoes. This is when the singing starts.

Her voice isn't bad, actually it’s quite good. But I can't put a face to it. I am feeling a bit self-conscious even before she steps into the room. She is naked except for the towel wrapped around her hair. For the life of me, I still can't place her. After a quick glance out the window, "Mornin."

She looks my way, a soft smile and a wink. "Good morning." Her voice still lyrical, gives me chills. "I hope you don't mind, I really needed a shower after last night."

I can't think of anything to say, instead I just stare at her. She's far from unattractive, seems her voice found a good home. Out of the corner of my eye I see the 38 still beside the pillow. There was a holster for it hanging on the chair that was the home for the sport coat. After putting the holster on I put the gun back in its home.

She has been walking around naked this entire time, paying little attention to me as she dries her hair and then starts putting on her face. She catches me watching her in the mirror and blows me a kiss.

I look around the room and find nothing else that looks even vaguely familiar. "I hate to run, but I got a thing..."

She gives me that smile again, "It's ok sweety. Is it ok if I finish up here before I take off?"

"Um, sure..."

She stops me at the door to the room. Her hair is still damp, hanging in ringlets down to the small of her back, she is still naked. She leans against the door, giving me no way to open it without moving her first.

I reach for the knob and she pulls my hand onto her waist, and then slides in real close. An uneasy chill runs down my spine as she kisses me, her hand resting lightly against my cheek. "Call me later." She then steps away letting me leave.

The bright morning sunlight does little to cure the chills running through my body. I look out over the balcony to the parking lot below. There aren't many cars in the lot, but none present look familiar. I find some keys in the pocket of my slacks, one of them bearing the Chrysler insignia, this might prove lucky.



Top 10 Movies

Here I go, taking a bit of a plunge (it's all about stepping out of comfort zones right).  You would think stuff like this would be easy.  But it is not something I would normally do.  So today I am joining up with a blog hop.

Alex Cavanaugh is hosting a hop for your top ten favorite movies.  Granted I have a feeling that there will be a few that repeat.  Great movies have a tendency to resonate with people.  Maybe we will find that deep down we are all just the same person living different lives...

Not sure I can number this in any kind of order.  Instead I will list them and let you figure it out.

Flash Gordon The entire soundtrack was performed by Queen.  Max Von Sydow as Ming the Merciless a role he was perfect for.  I still quote lines from it now. 

 

A combo love... The first Michael Keaton Batman and The Dark Knight.  Both Chosen for the Jokers that made each film incredible. 



Moving on to the original Mad Max.  How can you go wrong with such memorable lines like "I am the night rider."  This is a pure classic road rage movie.

 

 

 

 

There have been a couple remakes of child hood stories that stood out as fantastic to me.  They did honor to the memories of youth and adventure. 

 

The first of these is Speed Racer.  I used to race home from school everyday to watch this.

 

 

 

The A-Team is one of those rare ones where the remake movie actually flows well with the original series.  They didn't try to make it campy, instead they made an homage that did the original credit. 

 

 

 

While on the subject of adventure stories and such from my youth I have to make mention of the recent Captain America.  Growing up this was one of my favorite super heros.  Although they had to change some of the time line to keep up with our generation, it was still a great movie.

 

 

 

 

And now for a few great stories...

 

The Last Star Fighter.  You are recruited by the Star League to defend the frontier from Xuul and the Kodan Armada.  How can you go wrong with a guy going into space because he did great on a video game. 

 

 

 

 

 

The Princess Bride.  I have read the book, it was great.  But the movie was so much better.  There are so many great lines.  How can you exist without knowing where these lines come from.

 

 

 

 

How about Stardust.  Robert De Niro as a gay pirate.  How can you not find this hilarious?  Of course the story is great too.  Like the Princess Bride it is a modern day fairy tale.  We can still come up with new stories.

 

 

 

 

Of course, my all time favorite movie is Excalibur.  Patrick Stewart as Guinivere's father, the charm of making, and the all time classic battle between Arthur and Lancelot.  Again, a movie with great lines for quoting (well for the geeks anyway).  And the battle music, I can never remember what its origin is but I always know it when I hear.  (They even used it in Captain America)

 

 

 

 





















Stepping Outside

Earlier this week I spent some time away from home.  I did have errands to run (well, actually just picking up new reading glasses.  The joys of getting older, yay).  I made it a point to finally visit a coffee shop downtown that I have never been to.  The shop has been around for close to a year or so but for the life of me I have never been able to find it, at least not till recently.

I don't normally make it a point to go into coffee shops.  For me they just seem so hipsteresque.  A place where quasi intellectuals hangout pretending to be better than every one else while not actually doing anything productive with their lives.  I know, I know,  who am I to judge, right?  Isn't that essentially how I spend most of my time anyway?  I just don't have the benefit of fancy overpriced coffees to fuel my fire.

But I digress...

So I step inside.  The place is very kitsche (this is a word, isn't it?).  I, of course, have the feeling of everything is placed just perfectly to promote a certain urbane feel.  Isn't it great when you get to feel all superior to your surroundings?

Attempting to not let my ego get the better of me, I do step up to the counter and start flipping through the menu.  They do have the overpriced coffees.  This is a given.  But I find they also have a nice selection of teas.  There are two things I could spend my life drinking; beer is a given, but I also love tea.

Sadly, I didn't think to get a pic of my own cup

I don't always have good tea at home but I tend to always have at least basic orange pekoe on hand for suntea and such.  I am sure you can get decent tea at places like Starbucks and such, but for me it isn't the same (yep I be an elitest).  I like to know that my tea is fresh brewed from actual tea leaves.  This place has Oolong tea.  This is probably one of my most favorite teas.  And I can get it by the glass or tea pot.  Mind you the glass is a huge 12 oz pour, pretty big for a cup of hot tea.

So now with tea in hand I find a seat and camp out.  This involves setting up my keyboard and tablet and generally taking over a seat or two (how rude).  They have wifi there, so I start my Elvis Costello station on Iheartradio and then commence to work.  I wasn't looking for any hardcore writing, I just spent the length of the tea playing in the land of free writing. 

The writing itself ended up revolving more around the coffee shop and my thoughts and feelings on the matter at hand.  But the important thing was, I was sitting there writing.  Sometimes when you are in an uncomfortable place, especially one you have preconceived notions about, it can be hard to find your groove.  And then sometimes, it is a good thing to break up your patterns and try something new, even when it makes you a little uncomfortable at first. 

I will return to this shop again.  I mean seriously, they have good tea.  But more than that, I am supporting a local shop when I go there and it gives me a chance to write from an uncomfortable place. 

Bits and PIeces: Morning Mass

I did an image search recently and found that yahoo has a category of fanatasy images called gothic.  It seems obvious that this would exist, but sometimes you don't really think about the obvious.  Surfing through the pics I did find a few that were pretty cool.  Some stood out enough that I saved them in my muse folder even.

I don't know about you, but for me the pictures of blood and death seem like the story is already told (when looked at from a horroresque stand point).  I tend to gravitate to paintings and drawings that either show unresolved tension or scenes that might lead to something more.

This latest Bits and Pieces came from a pic like that.  I have no idea who the artist is right off hand so I can't in good conscience show the pic without giving the credit for it.  But I will share the bit that came from what I gained from it.  (I like to ramble, you ever notice this?)

So here is today's Bits and Pieces:

Morning Mass

It was the darkness of earliest morning.  The moon not quite slipping over the horizon, the rays of the sun still sleeping.  The chant cut the silence of the woods.

There was only five of them.  The leader held the lantern guiding them through the dark woods.  Next came the incense bearer, fresh incense burning in the morning star.  The others carried the chant.  It was almost unintelligible, a guiding rhythm covering the sounds of their footfalls.
 
The procession trod on, following the same path since the time of the first offering.  Always five figures, as written in the book that ruled their order.  They wore clean white robes, the hoods hiding the faces.  At this moment they were faceless, sexless, lifeless, except for the chant.

They came upon the final destination.  The stone temple was little more than ruins.  It was not part of the order to maintain  the sanctuary, merely to share the space for the ritual.  They stopped at the dias, each taking a point, forming the five points of power.
 
The torch was set aside, more incense laid at lesser points within the circle and then lit.  The chosen dropped their robes revealing their soft white flesh to the first rays of the sun.  The chant increased, reaching a crescendo as the sun broke through the mist of the morning bringing light into their small circle.
 
Lost to the chant they did not see each other.    Their irises slipped back showing nothing but white. A soft glow grew at the point, pushing outward in a line it connected the two on either side and then the last two disciples were encased in the soft white glow, a circle of power formed through their pentacle.
 
Their energy tied them in more than just the physical realm.  Their minds became one in the chant.  Arcs of light traveled toward the center of their circle.  The light began to build, first  taking the shape of an amorphous blob, then coalescing into something more distinct, something bipedal.

The light took the shape of a biped just as those forming the circle.  Its light grew stronger with the rising sun.  Something changed when sunlight touched the form directly.  A blinding flash knocking the disciples to the ground.  The being of light became solid, light turned to flesh.
 
A man now stood in the center of the circle, naked but unashamed.  He stood looking down at the five.  With a wave of his hand a dark shadow covered the disciples, obscuring them from the morning light.  They were consumed by the shadows, their bodies fading away.  The man stepped from the dias.  He donned a discarded robe, pulling the hood down to hide his face.

He left the ruins, the only things left to mark that life had been there, the torch, incense and the last of the robes.    

It's worth it

Today is my birthday.  I could be lazy and skip talking to you all, but that would really be a disservice to the habit I am trying to instill in myself.  Instead I will spend a few minutes with you.  And give you something that I find fitting.

Quite a few years ago I ran across a poem by Les Brown.  You may not know the name.  He is a motivational speaker.  At one point he was married to Gladys Knight.  Any way, this is a poem that is pretty high up on my list of great motivators.

"If you want something bad enough to go out and fight for it,
to work day and night for it,
to give up your time, your peace and your sleep for it...

if all that you dream and scheme is about it,
and life seems useless and worthless without it..

if you gladly sweat for it and fret for it and plan for it,
and lose all your terror of the opposition for it...

if you simply go after that thing that you want
with all of your capacity, strength and sagacity,
faith, hope, and confidence and stern pertinacity...

if neither cold, poverty, famine, nor gout,
sickness nor pain, of body and brain,
can keep you away from the thing that you want...

if dogged and grim you beseech and beset it,
with the help of God, you will get it!"

Just remember, anything is possible.  Push through anything holding you back.  You deserve more.