Noise in the Attic

I squeaked in under the wire with my entry.  The story I wrote is “Body and Soul”, and you can find it here.  The conversion to PDF did not go smoothly, and it has some formatting issues, so I’ll be posting a cleaner version tomorrow.

10/31 — Got the font translation problem fixed and the final version posted. 

I was poking around on my hard drive and ran across a folder full of old thoughts.  I like this one.  I think it’s going to show up again someday in somewhat altered form.

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Two Glasses, Both Empty

Two glasses sat on the bar in front of him, one full of sunshine, the other darkness.  A shot of Cuervo Gold with a Guinness chaser.  Good for what ails you.  He was a man with a problem, and he was hoping this would help.

The tequila burned going down, the first one always did, and lit a fire in his belly that the Guinness turned into a mellow glow.  He signaled for another round and sat staring at the two glasses as if they would talk to him.  A problem.  Yeah, you could call it that.

He picked up the shot glass and stared, seeing his wife, Marie, in its golden depths.  She was blonde, fiery, full of life, the light of his life, and he loved her.  He picked up the wedge of lime and shook some salt onto the side of his hand.  Salt, tequila, lime.  Ahhhhh.

Next the Guinness, dark and mysterious, sedate and predictable like Dorothy.  They had been seeing each other for a couple of months.  At first, it was just for fun, but this afternoon he had realized, with a shock like a hammer on his head, that he loved Dorothy, too.

A problem.  Yeah, you could call it that.

“Another, Rick?”

Liz’s voice was heavy with her native Welsh accent, so unusual in the Southern United States.  He knew she sometimes got tired of people asking her to “just say something”.  On the other hand, he never got tired of hearing her talk.

“Yeah, Liz, thanks.”

Liz, always Liz, or maybe Elizabeth.  Never Lizzie.  You didn’t want to make Liz angry; you wouldn’t like her when she was angry.  And, since she was the owner and operator of the bar, you wouldn’t do it twice.

The third round went down as smoothly as the first two and with just as much effect on his problem.  Marie or Dorothy, Dorothy or Marie?  Hell, he loved them both!  How did he get into these things?  And how was he going to get out?  He didn’t want to lose either one, though he knew that he would have to, maybe both before it was done.  This was going to get ugly.

“‘Nother round, Liz.”

She put the glasses in front of him and watched while he knocked them back.

“Want to talk about it?”

“You don’t want to get in the middle of this one, honey.”

Her hair, brown, shoulder length curls, made a dark halo around her face.

“What’s the problem, luv?”

“Arm-wrestling on Sundays may produce hives.”

“What?”

“Sorry, somethin’ I heard some guy say in here th’ other night.”

“What’s it mean?”

“Nahshure.  ‘E uz dritty punk at ta time.”

“You alright, Rick?”

“‘M OK.  Gotta go.  Gotta problem.  Got hives.”

He managed two steps before he melted into a puddle on the floor and forgot his problems for a while.

This is why I hate election time so much:

Bruce Gilbert, Democrat challenger for the Georgia State Senate Seat for District 25 currently held by Republican Johnny Grant III, charges that Grant voted for a bill (SB 174), which he did, that hurts women by not requiring insurance policies offered by employers to cover mammograms, mastectomies, and lymph node dissection.

OK, apparently any idiot CANNOT see that this bill provides:

that insurers may offer certain employees and consumers a choice between a health benefit plan containing all state mandated health benefits and an alternative health benefit plan that does not contain all state mandated health benefits

The key word here is “choice“.  Nobody is being forced to do anything by this bill.  “State mandated health benefits” include all of the issues raised by Mr. Gilbert.  This bill says that insurers can offer people a choice between being covered for these things and not being covered.

People don’t have to be stupid.  Stupid is a choice.  Apparently, Mr. Gilbert has made his choice.

I don’t know if I will make it another 12 days without blowing a gasket.

Rejection slips are falling into my Inbox like snowflakes these days.  The joyful life of the writer.  I am actually feeling rather good about this turn of events, because I’m starting to get some really good feedback from editors about some of my stories.  I still marvel at the ability of writers to turn manure into roses when it comes to rejection.

There are two major theories about submitting short stories.  I have followed both.  When I first started submitting my work, I started at the bottom.  That approach earned me a bunch of rejection and my 5 fiction publications to date.  Three were unpaid, one made me $5, the third $10.  All 3 of those stories are massively flawed, though I still love them, and I may yet rue the day they came out into public.

Along the way, several people had been urging me to try the top-down approach — submit to the best markets first, then work your way down.  Since I have been doin that, the publications have dried up, but my work has been getting better and better.  Finally, over the past two months, I have been getting some really positive and useful feedback along with my rejections.  “You are a very good writer,” says one editor.  Another says the story “is very well written and certainly packs a punch”.  Cool.

Now I know what the “dues-paying” part of writing is all about.  Every rejection, while painful, is another push to get better.  “Not good enough for you, huh?  Well, screw you!  I’ll send you something that’ll knock your dick in the dirt!”  And the next story is better.

I’m making progress.  I hope you are, too.

3 weeks to go.  Then we get to start all over again for the next election in 2008.  I just have had it withe the idiocy this year and have to blow off a little steam.  Feel free to ignore me is you wish.

The Republican candidate for the House seat in this district, Mac Collins, decided early on that “Swift-boating” is an acceptable campaign strategy.  He’s hiding behind PAC’s and the Republican National Committee and letting them do the mud-slinging for him.  That’s just cowardice, plain and simple.  If you can’t stand up in front of God and the electorate and say what you have to say, then sit down and shut the fuck up.  He lost my vote long ago.  I won’t even comment on his use of the word “Liberal” as an attempt to scare people except to say: “Get real, Mac!”  Jim Marshall gets my vote in this race.  He ain’t the best thing going, but at least he has the guts to take responsibility for what he says.

The Governor’s race comes down to Sonny Perdue, incumbent Republican Good Ole Boy, or Mark Taylor, incumbent Democrat Lieutenant Governor Good Ole Boy.  Both crooks.  Both long ago sold their souls to the political machines.  A damned sucky choice to have to make.

Theone bright spot was a comment made by Garrett Michael Hayes, Libertarian candidate for Governor, at a recent debate: “Ask not what your government can do for you; ask what your government will allow you to do for yourself.”  Too bad that idea gets covered up and lost in all the meaningless bullshit words.

Last week, I walked under a sky the color of October.  Feeling the serenity radiating from its infinite depths, embraced by yellow warmth from the Sun, tickled by a mischievous breeze, how could I not walk around with a Big Goofy Grin on my face?

This morning, I left home at dawn.  The Eastern sky glowed baleful red, soon joined by orange flames.  As I headed West, I noticed a rosy streak climbing up from the horizon.  As I watched, it slowly reached up and arched over to the other horizon.  Gradually, pastel bands of green and blue emerged underneath the red.  Finally, the rainbow reached its pinnacle of spectacular color.  While I marveled at this unexpected beauty, I noticed another, weaker streak beginning to climb the sky.  Almost, almost a double rainbow, but they faded before the second could fully form.

Now the sky is full of roiling slate clouds, and the air is a pale blue mist. Rain!  Finally, rain!

I love October.

Busy ain’t the word! Fall Quarter is in full swing as of October 2, with all its attendant mishaps, foul-ups, and general outbreak of chaos. I’ve been to 2 conferences in the last 3 weeks, and I’m just flat out of time and energy. Back soon.