bah, dammit

2010-11-02T14:51:00.000-07:00

A little bit of a new start on the old shit. More, really, an excuse to post something up on this rapidly rotting little blog.The Sheik, he doesn’t hate me, that much I know. He doesn’t respect me enough for that kind of intensity of feeling, really. He pities me, maybe, he’s annoyed with me, yeah. But hate? No. You have to be a

2009-06-06T23:18:00.000-07:00

Eh, something that I've been knocking around. Not about Davey. About someone who's been around a lot longer. The thing is, nobody sets out to deliberately mold their own lives. Maybe not nobody. Maybe a few. One or two out of every couple thousand. The rest of us, we just stumble along and hold on to what we trip over and we just make our lives out of what falls to hand.

2007-05-01T23:07:00.000-07:00

Thirtyseven Again, I’m walking alone in the desert with my bag over my shoulder and the package under my arm. That bastard sun is hammering down and I’m so dry that I’m not even sweating any more. I can feel

2007-04-06T20:41:00.000-07:00

Maybe an interesting start for a story here. A whole society existing in the free airspace above, say, the Atlantic ocean. Or several colonies above oceans around the world. Big flat dirigible barges for growing crops, smaller (relatively, anyway) blimps housing large extended families and the 'gravity planes' like those in the link for ferrying passengers and cargo from place to place to

2007-02-15T23:04:00.000-08:00

Something new. Davey jumped up and said hello tonight. So, yeah, if you've been waiting with bated breath, well, shit partner, here ya go... thirtysix The funny thing about this place is that I don’t need to sleep. One of the funny things, anyway. Yeah, obviously there’re a lot of funny things

2006-07-26T23:41:00.000-07:00

A little smoother than usual, I think. Maybe not. Meh. But I think this is the new hook, Chapter One. If anyone's in a mood to comment, drop me a line.Thirtyfive. My watch calls it two o'clock, a.m., and the sky is nothing but giant black from horizon to horizon. There's no stars here, and sometimes I miss them. Then again, there's no sun here, either, but I've gotten used to that. It's

2006-07-20T00:06:00.000-07:00

Thirtyfour. It's tough to drive all night. Driving all day's okay, but all night is a grind. You're peering off into a dark highway with a corridor of light from your headlights showing you constantly refreshing blacktop appearing over and over and over through the windshield. I think that's what kills you, really. Having to endlessly reassess just what the fuck the road is doing in front of

2006-07-16T23:45:00.000-07:00

As always, very first draft, very rough, but at least I'm getting our boy on the road. Sure has taken a while, huh? Thirtythree “Dead car?” “Yeah, base, dead car, and these guys aren’t at the address I’ve got. Whole building’s shut down, dusty, like

2006-07-09T23:05:00.000-07:00

Thirtytwo For a state trooper, he’s not a bad guy. It’s that it’s nighttime, I think. No sunglasses, y’know? That’s the big cop thing, really. They come up to like they’re going to walk right through you, like they’re going to shoulder-bump you and then wait for you to object. The bully thing that cops swagger around

2006-07-03T23:45:00.000-07:00

A bit more for you tonight. Rougher than the previous, but I like this old guy and he'll show up at least once more, mebbe a couple of times. Right. Read on. Try not to laugh too loud. It's rude. Thirtyone The old guy started talking, but it wasn’t like he was talking to me. He was doing the

2006-07-03T23:26:00.000-07:00

Okay, this is outta sequence (right, like there's a sequence, jackass), but I'm having some technical problems getting my hands on the stuff in between, so, yeah, here it is. If nothing else, it's new, and a couple of you have been asking me if there's anything new going on. So, yeah, there is. Just remember, you asked for it.And, as always, if you're new here, just go ahead and start reading.

2006-06-27T23:54:00.000-07:00

Okay, if anyone's still paying attention to this, or you're one of the poor suckers that I've convinced to keep looking at this barren, rarely updated page, then have some faith. New content is on the way, a bit more focused, a LOT more cohesive and, possibly, on the way to being finished.New laptop. Whee dogs, I'm excited. Thanks, Dell.

2005-12-07T09:49:00.000-08:00

Just a test, to keep this thing alive.

2005-06-27T23:17:00.000-07:00

(Quite honestly, I haven't got the slightest fucking idea what Davey's up to. The little fucker's losing his shit, I believe. As always, enjoy!)TwentyfourMe and the Sheik, we’ve got guns and grenades, clips full greasy 9mm bullets tucked into our belts. We’ve got three-foot long combat knives, matte black, serrated, sharp enough castrate gnats. We’ve got body armor that’ll shrug off howitzer

2005-06-26T00:14:00.000-07:00

(Hey there, y'all. More of the same shit as before. Just the crap that was zipping across my head tonight. You CopyFighters out there should like this one. Dunno if the rest of you'll get it. Dunno. I've got booze in me, so it's all going up tonight. Enjoy!)Okay, straight point of order, I admit, completely, that I didn’t have my licenses current to be wearing my blue FUBU

2005-06-23T23:32:00.000-07:00

(Okay, here's the deal. I've got an artist friend and we started a thing a year or so ago that we'd do rapidfire creative shit back and forth at each other. He'd shoot me a drawing and I'd write a story in one sitting that used it as a reference, and then shoot the story back to him and he'd use it as a reference for another drawing, which he'd send to me, etc, etc. This was all my idea, and I

2005-06-07T22:30:00.000-07:00

TwentythreeI haven’t been sleeping. I’ve been in bed, my eyes have been closed. I’ve been breathing deep and regular. I’ve been allowing my mind to wander where it will. The shades are drawn and the apartment’s a mine shaft from end to end. The television, the stereo, the computer are in pieces on the carpet. The phone is a heap of broken plastic and dayglo wiring. The door is locked and

2005-05-29T23:35:00.000-07:00

TwentytwoI never, never hit her. Not once. Never raised my hand, never raised my voice. Never thought a single time about taking that beautiful face and slamming it against the wall, about grabbing her slender wrist and wrenching her arm up over her head. I never thought about shoving her to the floor and kicking her in the ribs until she was curled up into a weeping little ball on the floor.

2005-05-26T23:19:00.000-07:00

TwentyoneThe guy, he’s just a guy, right? A guy in the elevator kiosk on Fifty, a building in NYC, Midtown. A suit guy, gray and white with a slash of red down the middle. Shiny black shoes. A face and some hair. Manicured fingernails and hands that have just enough knuckle and just enough bulging veins to be masculine. Scent of…what? Something expensive and subtle, musk and flowers and

2005-05-17T23:02:00.000-07:00

TwentyThe Sheik gets it, even if no one else does. The drama, the pathos, the quest. This, this whole fucking out of control, pointless, frustrating thing, I love it. It’s perfect. It’s too much drama and too much emotion and too much action and too much sorrow and too much joy. It’s all about being too much. It’s about finding the edge of limits, about finding that elusive internal

2005-05-16T00:14:00.000-07:00

(Sorry about the lack of updates, for anybody out there who might be waiting with bated breath. Been a rough few weeks. But I'm back for the nonce, with a little bit more of this...stuff. Enjoy...)Nineteen.I suppose that I’d read somewhere that the sun comes up fast in the desert. I’m guessing that I had, because that was my first thought when the pale gloom of sunrise turned into a blaze of heat

2005-05-16T00:13:00.000-07:00

Eighteen.“Davey to base, Davey to base.”“Base, Davey, base, Davey. Go ahead.”“Okay, I’m in midtown. Got an address for me?”“Uh….skkkkkkkkkk…nope. Negatory.”“Oooookay….”“Sorry, Davey. Someone’s in a meeting or something. I should have something for you within the hour. You’re still on the clock, so just find somewhere to park, get some dinner, keep your radio on.”“It’s almost eight, base.

2005-05-16T00:09:00.000-07:00

Seventeen.The bastard made me pick up the package. Kneeling down in front of the driver’s door, retrieving it from the sand, on one knee, looking up at him. The Sheik smiling down with his dazzling, perfect grin.“Hey, Davey, I’m not anyone special.” He took a drag off his smoke. “No need to bow.”Later, bouncing across the desert, he took a hand off the wheel, pulled a white business card out

2005-04-21T23:53:00.000-07:00

Sixteen.Sheik Europa was waiting for me, one day, sitting in a topless Hummer parked at the edge of the desert, where the sand began to trickle into Mags’ patch of green lawn. I was going out to pick roses from the bushes along the path to put in the vase in the front hall. Mags was asleep in the big bed on the second floor, a clean white sheet draped over one perfect thigh. I was going to

2005-04-21T23:49:00.000-07:00

(This is older stuff that'll probably get reworked later on, but it gets Mags on the scene, and, fuck, she's gotta get there sometime doesn't she?)Fifteen.Mags Verbosa was sitting at a bus stop when that fat fuck cabbie decelerated his Lincoln down from a buck-fifty to zero in the space of about twelve feet and kicked me out the back door before I’d even managed to get myself all the way

2005-04-18T22:47:00.000-07:00

(Yeah, this is very, very first draft. Mostly scene-setting and a tiny bit of exposition that'll probably get taken care of earlier in the story. Enjoy!)Fourteen.I spend a lot of time sitting in the JC’s waiting room. A lot of time reading magazines, drumming my fingers, a lot of time stepping outside to have a smoke, letting the chipper little receptionist know where I’m heading and that Ill be

2005-04-14T23:05:00.000-07:00

Thirteen.Texas was Texas. It was dry and vast and it leaned in on you, let you know what it was all about. Billboards for gun shops, for strip clubs, for all-you-can-eat buffets. Car dealerships with nothing but AmeriCan pickups for sale. 7-11’s the size of strip malls. Neon signs for family-owned hotels coming at me from ten miles down the unlit Interstate. State Troopers cruising by in

2005-04-12T23:03:00.000-07:00

Twelve.I don’t remember when the first email showed up. Sometime late in the fall, I think, when I was starting to get that nesting feeling, the sun going down early, spending my nights online, making little chatroom friends, getting very opinionated about whatever. October, maybe, around Halloween, lotsa talk about parties and costumes and how to make orange beer. I had my blog, and I posted

2005-04-10T23:14:00.000-07:00

Eleven.The passport checks slow you down. Every time you cross a border, stacked traffic, a half-mile of tractor trailers and delivery vans and soccer moms idling in front of the concrete liftgates. The tedium of the wait, the radio dissolving into static as you pull into the steel-reinforced cement Customs Dock, swiping, drumming your fingers on the steering wheel for the thirty seconds it takes

2005-04-08T22:40:00.000-07:00

(This is a little bit of newly written stuff fluffed out with a WHOLE lot of the 16,000 word failure that preceded it. If it comes off as lumpy and nonsensical, well, shit. There is a reason. Enjoy)Ten.The Sheik and I, we’re sipping cocktails at The Broken Promise, and he’s looking over my shoulder while I’m writing, and he’s feeding me bad story ideas.“Dude,” he says, lifting a glass of

2005-04-05T23:17:00.000-07:00

Nine.“Base, Davey, base, Davey.”“Davey to base. Go ahead, man.”“Got one at Richardson-Anders. RICHARDSON-ANDERS. Copy.”“Yeah, okay, Richardson-Anders. Where to?”“Uh…hang on.”“Copy.”Tap tap tap.“Okay, I don’t have the address yet. DON’T HAVE THE ADDRESS YET.”“Okay, so, what? Do I pick it up and wait or…?”“Pick it up and head for the City. HEAD FOR THE CITY WITH THE PACKAGE.”“Uh…okay. Hey,

2005-03-31T23:27:00.000-08:00

(This one's pretty rough. Not like they haven't all been, but this one's even moreso. But I'm think I'm starting to get an actual handle on where it's going. So, shit, hopefull this'll be worth reading sometime soon)Eight.I wasn’t working the courier gig when Osama put the torch to Cleveland. Shit, I wasn’t working any gig. I was just twenty, two days past my birthday, still at Western,

2005-03-29T22:58:00.000-08:00

Seven.The courier thing isn’t tough. It’s boring and it’s stressful, depending, and it’s either fun or a pain in the ass, also depending, but it’s not tough. You get a call, you drive, you steal a parking spot, you run into a building with your clipboard and your smile, you fill out a tag and take your package, you run outside in time to beat ticket, you drive, you steal a parking spot, you ride

2005-03-28T19:35:00.001-08:00

Six."T'were Scumblefuck what brought me down, yuhonuh. He were promising wine and chocolates, yer, wine and chocolates down in the garden, by the trees by the river. He promised, yer, and when there weren't none he just larfed and larfed and he pinned me down and then m'lord Shi-Shi, he came outta the wood and he did me, yer, did me peculiar with hot irons and what, barbed spikes and such, he..

2005-03-27T23:23:00.000-08:00

Five.Just a name for now: Scumblefuck.Nice, huh?C'mon, it's a good name. You know you like it. You'll be calling people that in a couple of days. You'll try to steal it, make your own character out of it, try to claim it as your own. But it's mine, dammit. I thunk it up, I posted it. Minemineminemine.Have a lovely night.

2005-03-20T11:24:00.000-08:00

Four.For me, anyway, the second attack was almost a relief. The other shoe dropping. Thanks, Osama. The tension was killing me. (MORE TO COME>>>JUST NEEDED TO GET THE IDEA OUT)

2005-03-18T23:05:00.000-08:00

Three.My passport had been stamped in NY, NJ & OH in the last couple of days. Sitting in a truck stop parking lot, watching the big interstate haulers pulling up the pumps, flipping through the little blue book. CT blue, state flag blue, same color as the cop uniforms and the lawn around the governer's mansion. That deep, dark, oh-so-very-fucking-serious blue. Blue that humorless Puritans

2005-03-17T22:45:00.000-08:00

Two.It's OH, I think, when the Nokia starts buzzing and spitting and hopping around on the passenger seat of the BMW. Why I didn't leave the fucking thing in CT, I dunno. Habit, I guess. Or just the inability to let go of something that seems so valuable. Drowning man clutching a bar of gold. That kind of thing.Yeah, and it's buzzing and jumping and sparks are flying out of it because it

2005-03-16T20:43:00.000-08:00

One.It's a full moon and me and the Sheik, we're riding dirt bikes out in the desert.Whining little Honda with 250's that buzz like mosquitos and knobby tires that bite hard into sand and dirt and mud. The Sheik guns it and bounces high off a shallow ridge, a jangling bit of leather and chrome arcing high over spitting lizards and shadowy weeds, and I follow. High and up and over and crashing

2005-03-16T20:34:00.000-08:00

Just for myself, really, unless something good occurs. A reason to work on fiction every goddamned fucking night. If you know me and you're here from an invite, thanks and feel free to be brutal. If you're some damned stranger who stumbled in, well, hell, welcome. If you know what you're talking about, speak up. If you're some kid, some stumbling illiterate, some half-brained zero who took a