Part 2: Walt Michaels is a Weeny (blog novel)

I hope that a lot of you will take the time to read this blog novel and offer me some feedback on it.  I'm trying very hard to keep the excerpts short so it won't take more than I couple of minutes to read them.  This is like the Diary of a Wimpy Kid books, but I wrote mine first.  I think mine are better too.  Please feel free to comment.  Part one was posted yesterday.  If you need to, go back and read it also.

I slipped into my favorite jeans and t-shirt and slapped on my St. Louis Cardinals hat. After I took a quick look at myself in the mirror, I started down the stairs. Remembering that it was Saturday and that my dad would be at his music store all day long improved my mood dramatically.

Most of the kids at school figure that since my dad owns a music store he is cool. He can be sometimes.

When I got downstairs, I saw Mom was halfway asleep in her chair. Since she had her eyes closed, I didn’t figure she was actually reading the newspaper she held.

“Who won the game last night?” I asked, making her jump awake.

“Your dad said they won six to two.”

“What are you reading?”

Mom sighed. Her sighs always seemed slightly sad in some sinister way--sorry for the alliteration.  I’m a writer.  We do stuff like that sometimes.  My mom is too nice to be sinister. That’s why I never could figure why she married Dad. Alliteration, by the way, is the repetition of initial consonant sounds. We poets know that. I liked to use it when I wrote poems. Boy, the guys would laugh me back into the fifth grade if they knew I wrote poetry.

“Guys and Dolls is coming to the Fox,” Mom said.

           “Any of those dolls good looking?”

“It’s a musical, Walt. I starred in it when I went to college.”

“You went to college?” Amazing. I’d been her kid all my life and I never knew she went to college.

“For a while. Then I met your father.” She sighed again.

“Just think, Mom, if you hadn’t met Dad, you wouldn’t have had me.”

She smiled. “Too late to change that now.”

“Very funny,” I said, but inside, I didn’t feel like laughing. Dad was forty-one when I was born and Mom thirty-seven.  Dad always said I was an accident.  The way he looks at me sometimes I think what he really means is that I was a mistake. I snatched the paper from her. “Get Dad to take you up there to see it.”  Now, that’s funny, I thought.

She looked at me like I was stupid.

          “Three home runs last night. Awesome!”

I handed the paper back to Mom, who folded it up and set it aside like a bad Christmas present.

 “So ask him,” I said.

“Your dad won’t even go to see a ball game, much less to the theater.”

“If I could drive, I’d take you.” I kissed her on the cheek. “I’m going for a bike ride. You think if I stopped by the store, Dad would give me money for some baseball cards?”

“It depends--”

“On his mood. I know.” This time, I sighed and dashed out the door.

I decided not to chance hitting my dad up for some cash, so I just rode past the store and out into the country.

Stock car racer, Walt Earnhardt, stares at the track in front of him. His machine roars under him like a jet plane. He hits the curve at a hundred and eighty miles per hour and screeches around it. He hits the straightaway. His engine wails like a banshee straight from hell. He sees the camouflage flag waving in the breeze. Camouflage?

 I cruised around the curve at thirty miles per hour and headed for Duckwater Creek. I braked as I saw a man, dressed in camouflage, standing on the bridge. When I heard a loud crack, I slammed on the brakes almost throwing myself over the handlebars.

The old man, known fondly as Crazy Cooter, pointed his pistol at something on the bank. When the gun cracked again, I decided I would probably forget relaxing at Duckwater Creek that day, so I turned around and headed back toward home.

Blog novel: Walt Michaels is a Weeny

Long before, Diary of a Wimpy Kid, I wrote a book called Walt Michaels is a Weeny.  It's a middle grade to young adult novel along the lines of Diary of a Wimpy Kid.  It was originally published as a POD novel by Wings E Press, and later, I actually wrote a screenplay version of it for a contest.  It finished in the top ten comedy category but advanced no farther.  I hear about people who write Blog novels, and I thought this might be something different to do.  Let me know what you think of the book.  I'm only going to put out a couple pages at a time along with some of my other blogs.  I would like to resurrect this book and do something with it since all rights have reverted back to me.

Walt Michaels sits in his living room with ESPN blaring.

The announcer stares into the screen, his mouth twitching with excitement. His co-anchor sits beside him, held tilted back, a soft snore wafting through the broadcast room. The clock strikes 4--4 A.M. that is. Harv Greavy and Mo Huck reporting.

“We are down to the last draft pick for this year. The World Champion St. Louis Cardinals have the pleasure of making that pick. Who will it be?”

The sleeping announcer’s eyes pop open for a split second. “Well, duh. There are only two players left.”

“That’s right. What a genius! The two players left are Walt Michaels and …” He pauses, puts his hand near his ear, and listens to the latest communiqué. “The Cardinals have announced their final pick.”

Walt Michaels sits straight up.

“Get on with it, Mo.” Harv’s eyes pop open for a second and then close again.

“It’s, it’s--It could be, it might be, it is! I cannot believe what I just saw--I mean heard.”

“Get on with it, Marv!” Walt screams at the television.

“The Cardinals have selected,” Marv pauses to build suspense. “Wendy Pujols!”

“Aaaaahhhh!” Walt screams and--

I fell out of bed and crashed onto the floor. Another nightmare. I breathed heavily and wiped the sweat off my face.

“Get your butt out of bed, Walt! Now!”

My dad. Sleeping beyond 7 A.M. was an unforgivable sin in his eyes. Just because he grew up in the old days doesn’t mean that I have to act like him. It’s easy for someone his age to get by on five hours of sleep. I glanced at the clock: 8 A.M. He had decided to be merciful to me for once.

I stood up and flipped on my stereo. Music from Styx filled my room at around a hundred or a hundred fifty decibels. That wouldn’t last long before I got into trouble. The interesting thing was that my dad would not be the one who yelled. Anything before 1975, he supported wholeheartedly. He was only sixteen when Woodstock happened. Music tastes were one thing we had in common. Love for all things baseball was another. My mom was the one who would eventually scream--

“Walt! Turn that noise down.” Mom’s shriek pierced the air. To avoid further endangerment, I lowered the volume a notch or two.

My love of classic rock music was about the only thing I ever wanted to pick up from my dad except for a few bucks every now and then to buy baseball cards.  Sitting down at my desk with posters of Kiss, Aerosmith, Bob Dylan, and my personal favorite, Bob Seger, staring down at me, I looked at the drawing I had started the previous night: an older man I had seen riding a bicycle around town.

“It sucks,” I said and then crumpled it and tossed it into the waste can. After disposing of that particular art abomination, I opened my desk drawer and looked at the picture I had drawn of Rhonda. The likeness was pretty good, but I had taken artistic liberties and not drawn on her ugly glasses.

My name is Walt, Walt Michaels Jr. I know it’s not a cool name. I’m sure my dad is not too happy that I’m carrying it either. I don’t think I will ever satisfy him with who I am rather than who he wants me to be.  I figure that anyone over fifty just doesn’t understand kids now days. It’s not that I’m dumb or anything. I just do different things like drawing and sometimes writing. One of these days when I am a rich and famous author or artist, I am going to change my name to something other than what it is. That would really freak out my dad. One of these days…it’s always a long way away.

I don’t want much really. A girlfriend and a softball team that wins the spring leagues aren’t much, and one of these days…

Cross, here.

I'm using a CPAP machine now because of sleep apnea.  So far, I have been unable to get used to it as well as I should, and as a result, in the week I've had it, I have managed one good night's sleep.  I feel like some space alien when I have it one.  Yet, I am going to stick with it because several people have told me having one has beena life changing acquisition.  My life needs changing -- in some way.  I'm not sure what would be the best kinds of changes, and I certainly don't want things to get bad.

 

Busy weekend coming  up.  Going to get a suit for my daughter's wedding.  She and her betrothed decided not to do the whole rental tuxedo thing which is fine with me.  If I actually buy a suit, I can use it again though basically about the only time I put a suit on is for weddings, funerals, and job interviews.  As far as job interviews go, I'm getting old enough that I am probably going to have to content myself with staying exactly where I am.  That would be okay with me as far as my professional life goes, but I don't want my writing life to get mired in one spot.  I want to sell screenplays and make a bunch of money.  I have begun another completely new revision of Fall of Knight and I find it to be very satisfying so far, but it's coming slowly.  Only ten pages so far, but they are ten pretty good pages.

 

I am basically redoing the entire thing.  I am also working on a new one.  I decided I would work on two projects at once.  I may also go back to writing plays.  I found out that next year if I remain where I am, I will be teaching drama.  I am not going to be directing the play, just teaching the class.  Sigh, I would like to teach at a college, but that's not going to happen.  Another dream gone by the wayside.

 

Crossbyte for the day:  The most important lesson we can learn from not having all our dreams come true is how to appreciate the ones that do.

 

My major dreams have not come true.  I don't think they're going to.  I am grateful for what I do have, and I know that what I do have is more than 90 percent of the world does have.  (Of course, it's nothing like the one percent of the rich who have 99 percent of the wealth in this country.)

 

Well, I need to sign off and think.  As dangerous as that can be, I need to do it occasionally.

 

 

FREE! I'M FREE!

 http://www.pixelofink.com/

Get your books; get your books; get your free books.  If you have a Kindle or a Kindle app. or in some cases a Nook, you can download free books through Pixel of Ink.  There is even a newsletter strictly for children and young adult books.  Check it out.  If I downloaded all the books from this site that I thought sounded interesting, I would have hundreds of books.  I downloaded three in one day.  It's legal too!

 

I offer you ... a haiku (a new haiku too)

The cloak of dusk wraps
the day in gray gloom and shadows.
Sunshine hides its face.

My first published poem was a haiku. See if you can write one.

Day changes into dusk which slips into darkness overshadowing the sun.  Pincushion black with bright  stars poking through.

I would like to write some poetry, but I don't think I have it in me anymore.  What I write would be trite -- my creative brain suffers from some hideous blight.

An old poetry editor of mine, John Horvath, who published many of my poems back in the day sent me an email inviting me to submit some work for his online poetry journal poetryrepairshop.com  I don't know if my old stuff is on the sight anymore.  I used to love to write poetry, but I stopped doing it.  I think my lust for wealth overcame my love for beauty.  I gave up writing poetry to pursue my dream of writing a best-selling novel, becoming rich, and living the Bohemian life.   Ah, what more could want aspire to be than a rich writer.  I am still looking for best-selling status.  Don't think I'm going to make it.  Now, that I think about it though, I am not sure my poetry could be called beautiful.  I used strong imagery, but most of it was depressing.

Well, things may be changing in my life.  Good change I think, but change of any kind is a bit frightening.

I'll keep all of my followers -- the eight of you -- posted.

The one thing I am overjoyed about is the way the St. Louis Cardinals are playing.  They have won every series of the new baseball season and lead the Central division.  I like Matheny.  There doesn't seem to be that tension I always felt with Larussa at the helm.  I also think that Matheny gets along better with the younger players.  I think we have a bright future.

That's all for now.  I need to go do something totally useful and unpleasant -- grade papers.

Weekend Wrap -- in which I consider Darth Vader and dystopian fiction

Below is another excerpt of Lancelot and the Tide of Times: Enjoy

Darth Vader -- What do you think of when you hear his name.  (One of the greatest villains of all time in my opinion)  I think of the crazy mask and the heavy breathing -- especially now since I am wearing a cpap machine for sleep apnea.  People tell me that it's a life-changing machine.  Will it make me slim and sexy?  Will it make me smart?  I guess I should just be grateful if it keeps me from having a heart attack.  It's going to take some getting used to, but I think I can do it.  I generally adjust well to new things.

Who knows?  There may be a lot of new things coming along in my life in the near future.  I believe that there are times when all people need to change their lives up a bit.  It keeps us from going stale and getting too complacent. Comfort breeds complacency.

One new thing going on in my life -- well, two new things actually -- are two screenplays I'm working on.  I'm trying to have two projects going at once.  You know, I may never sell or even option a screenplay, but I like writing them.  I am writing in a vacuum, but I don't mind.  As I said, it's a form that's fun for me.  I have a very short attention span, and screenplays are something that fit my attention span.  The screenplays that I'm doing are in different stages.  I'm working on one which I think has a lot of potential.  It is a dystopian story about a world where no stories are allowed to be written.  Really sadistic teachers assign them to be read for punishment, but to write one will be cause to be sent to behavior modification which is essentially state-sanctioned torture.  This one is called Tongue Tied.  The other one is a rewrite of the screenplay draft of Fall of Knight that I completed.  I'm changing that one drastically. I am not going to mess with it now, but in the future, I will post some scenes from both screenplays.

What I will do, however, since I have not done it in a long time, is post a brief scene from Lancelot and the Tides of Time.  It can still be purchased at www.buckscountypublishing.com

LANCELOT AND THE TIDES OF TIME


     The next morning Lancelot and Arthur awoke early
but not as early as Merlin who was waiting for them when
they appeared in the barn and prepared to leave.
     “I still don’t understand why you have to take my
closest friend and advisor away from me to do your bidding.
He’s supposed to be serving me.”
     “Lancelot is no servant,” Merlin said.
     “I didn’t mean that –“
     “Merlin knows what you mean; he just likes to argue
with you.”
     “Arthur, your kingdom may fall before it begins if
we do not take care of any problems that may arise. A
rogue dragon can derail anything before it even leaves the
station. The last thing Camelot needs is a train wreck.”
     “Merlin, what’s a rail?”
     “And what’s a train?” Lancelot asked.
     “A mode of transportation but not nearly as good as
a zipfire but … I forget myself. You have no idea what I
mean. Never mind. Let’s go.”
     A stable hand brought three horses.
     “I have my own, thank you,” Merlin said. “What is
the other one for?”
     “I’m riding part of the way with you.”
     Lancelot and Arthur mounted their horses.
     “Very well.” Merlin glanced up as if he were
addressing the clouds. He sighed and said, “Let’s go.”
When they rode out of sight of the castle, Merlin
whistled. His unicorn appeared from the woods.

     “How did you capture such a thing?” Lancelot
reached out to touch the beautiful animal.
     “No. He doesn’t know you. I did not capture him – I
am not qualified.”
     “What qualifications do you –“
     “You have to be a virgin, Lance.”
     “Merlin, you old dog, you.”
     “You have to be a maiden,” Merlin said. “I don’t
want to discuss it. Just suffice to say that I did not capture
this beautiful animal. She is simply allowing me to use her
at the moment. One day, she will no longer be needed.”
     “What is that supposed to mean?”
     “Enough chat. We have a long ride.” Merlin
touched the unicorn’s flank, whispered to it, and the animal
began cantering. Arthur and Lancelot followed.
Hours of hard riding passed and suddenly Arthur
slowed down. “What is this place?” The woods lurked like
monsters waiting to pounce. The air seemed denser and
darker. Lancelot felt it too.
     “This is no place you want to be spending any time,”
Merlin said.
     Merlin galloped away; Arthur sidled up to Lancelot.
“I feel something in the air,” he said.
     “Can you feel magic?” Lancelot looked around
nervously.
     “If this is magic, I don’t want to have anything to do
with it. Let’s go.” Arthur spurred his horse on; Lancelot
followed.
     The three of them rode for another hour.
     “Arthur, we have reached the badlands.”
     “Badlands?”
     “This is the outer fringes of the kingdom. Weird
things happen out here, and the king should not stay here.”

     "All right, Merlin. I should get back to Jenny
anyway. Be careful, promise me that both of you will come
back to Camelot.”
     “We will see you.”
     “One day there will be no badlands. My men will go
on quests to do good. Might will be used for all of the right
reasons. This world will know peace,” Arthur said.
     “Many worlds long for peace,” Merlin said.
     “I’m only worried about this one.”
     “For now,” Merlin said under his breath. Lancelot
heard him and glanced at him.
     Arthur shook hands with both of them and turned
back toward Camelot. Lancelot and Merlin watched him
until he disappeared from sight.
     “He will be all right, won’t he?”
     “He won’t be killed.”
     “What’s that supposed to mean?”
     “It means we have a dragon to take care of. Arthur
and Camelot will take care of themselves.”
***
     Arthur rode home slowly and tried to enjoy the sites
of his kingdom. He hadn’t spent a lot of time outside the
castle ever since Merlin took him in and began his kingship
training.
     It surprised him when the sun began to set much
earlier than he anticipated. In the deepening dusk, he
shivered and felt a little uncomfortable.
     He then realized he had ridden into the place where
he felt the magic so strong on his way out. Another wave of
fear rippled through him.

     “Hi, handsome,” a voice sang out from beside him.
He looked and nearly fell off his horse. Jenny stepped into
the pathway and smiled up at him.
     “What are you doing here?” he asked, incredulity
putting an edge on his voice.
      “I love you too.”
      “I mean … it’s dangerous so far away from
Camelot.”
      “Oh, believe me, Arthur, when I tell you that as long
as you are with me, there is nothing to worry about. Get
down off that horse. I made us a picnic lunch.”
     Arthur smiled. “This is no place for a girl like you.”
     “The place for a girl like me is with you. Even a
queen has to leave the castle every now and then.”
     He swung down from the horse. “I’m glad you did.”
     “So am I,” she said and took his hand.
     As soon as he touched her hand, Arthur heard a hiss.
In surprise, he dropped her hand and backed away. A
serpent lay curled alongside the path. Arthur pulled his
sword.
     “Don’t be silly, Arthur. It’s just a harmless snake. It
will leave us.”
     As soon as Jenny spoke, the serpent uncoiled and
slid off into the woods.
     Later they sat on a soft animal skin that Arthur had
never seen in their castle. It surprised him that he had
missed something so beautiful. Pure white and soft, it
reminded him of puffy clouds.
     Jenny leaned to him and kissed him softly.
     Arthur sighed. “There’s something about your smell,
the moonlight – it’s almost magical.”
     “Isn’t it though?”
     They kissed again and lay back on their bed.

***
     Lancelot paused at the edge of the cliffs. “How am I
supposed to get over there?”
     “You swim.”
     “But look at those cliffs!”
     “Those you climb.”
     “Are you going with me?”
     “Are you crazy? I’m a wizard and wizards are not
stupid.”
     “And what does that make me?”
     “A great deal less than a wizard I assure you. But
you’re young. He likely won’t burn you alive.”
     “What?”
     “Dragons like to eat most of their prey alive. They
only torch it if it’s old and tough. Now me – I’d be toast in
a minute.”
     “What’s toast?”
     “Never mind. If this were an easy world, you would
be able to climb up there, catch the beast asleep, and put
him in chains.”
     “If?”
    “It’s not easy. He’ll smell you coming before you
get up the hill, but he’ll be curious enough to see what kind
of idiot will go up into his cave.”
     “Is there anything you can tell me that might help?”
     “Remind him of the dragon code.”
     “Will that help?”
     “Probably not. If it doesn’t, you’ll have to slay
him.”
     “Is that it? Just slay him?”
     “But you have to do it just right. Dragons are pretty
much invincible except for one spot in their upper chest. A
little gap exists between the two dragon scales right in front

of its heart. Any thing that pierces him there will kill him.
Anything else will bounce off harmlessly and then you will
most likely die.”
     “If I die, who will take care of the dragon?”
     “I guess I would have to dispose of him with my
magic.”
      “Why don’t you just go up there and dispose of him
then? Save us all a lot of trouble.”
     “It’s not my job, and it’s a waste of magic. Go now.”
     “I’m not afraid, you know.”
     “I know.”
     Lancelot dove into the water and began to swim. By
the time he reached the far bank, he was nearly exhausted.
He paused to catch his breath.
     “If you don’t act quickly, he’ll roast you on the
spot.”
     Lancelot groaned. Wizards – especially wizards
who could talk to him across a river without making an
audible sound – gave him a headache.
     He started to climb. As he climbed, he found little
footholds and handholds that had been formed naturally by
years and years of weather and other factors. He climbed
quickly because he was young and strong. His heart beat
fast, not from tiredness but from fear. He didn’t want Merlin
to know just how frightened he was. After a few minutes he
arrived at a ledge at the opening of a cave. He could feel the
heat and he could feel magic like in the woods. Finding out
dragons possessed magic unnerved him even more. He
pulled himself up and crouched low at the entrance. Slowly,
he crept inside and paused to let his eyes adjust to the dark.
      “Make your peace with the spirits, mortal, for you
are about to fry.”

The Journey

If I might wax philosophical here.  Life is often compared to a journey.   Well, I am not going to write on that worn out cliche',  but I do want to comment on another well-known cliche'.  The shortest distance between two points is a straight line.  This makes me think of the fact that we are always in a hurry to get somewhere.  We want to get to where we are going so fast that we miss out on all the things we could see along the way.  I have driven to work the same way for 14 years.  I put my car in drive in the morning and go into a haze.  Thirty five minutes later I'm at work and I don't even remember driving there.  I don't really "notice" anything along my way.  Now, my question is this?  Just because a straight line is the quickest way, does it mean that it is the most rewarding way?  My feeling is no.  It is in the curvy roads that you find the adventure.  In life it is the less-traveled path that gives the greatest rewards.

Wires, wires, everywhere, but will they help me sleep?

I had a sleep study done last night.  I won't know the results of it until I talk to my doctor, but I'm going to assume there were some issues because the attendant put one of those cpap things on me after an hour or two.  It didn't feel all that weird so if I have to wear one all the time, I think I can get used to it.  I stayed home today from school after the test, and I've sat on the couch grading papers for most of the day, so it's not like I'm having fun or anything.  Work -- and more papers to grade -- will be waiting for me tomorrow when I get back to school.  It's the thing about being an English teacher.  It never stops.  I'm grading research papers at the moment.  They aren't too bad, but I still have quite a few more to grade.

My niece just posted wonderful news on facebook.  Her mother-in-law is free of cancer.  I've met her a couple of times, and she's a very nice woman.  I know that God still answers prayers, and yes, I believe that I'm talking about the Jewish, Christian, and Muslim God when I say God.  Chew on that thought for a while.  My religious views would be heretical to any of the world religions, but I don't think you can get past the idea that we all worship the same God.  One of my students was writing about how so many of the world's wars have been fought over religion.  He's right.  The key is the word religion.  Religion and belief,  religion and faith, are not the same things.

Well, I need to sign off and go back to grading.  They won't grade themselves.

Some ranting and other misc. commentary

I am disgusted that for the second election in a row, we may be faced with choosing the one person who may cause the least amount of damage to our country. We need a leader to step up and take the mantle of the presidency, but unfortunately, it doesn't seem like that is going to happen. How long has it been since we have had a good leader, one who wasn't bought and paid for by special interest and lobbyists. In my lifetime I can think of two presidents that I thought exhibited actual leadership. All of my liberal friends will hiss at me when I say this, but I thought Ronald Reagan was a good leader. Before Reagan -- in my lifetime, just barely -- John F. Kennedy. I don't have to agree with every belief that a would be leader has in order for me to follow him or her. Liberal, moderate, conservative -- it doesn't matter to me. Will a Reagan or Kennedy rise up out of the ashes? One can only hope; I don't think it's going to be President Obama or Mitt Romney. I don't think leadership gets people elected anymore. I think it's wealth and influence. How sad is that? Someone like Harry Truman or even Abraham Lincoln would never be elected in today's political landscape. I should avoid discussing politics because I actually don't know as much as I should, but I was just thinking. I have begun a rewrite of Fall of Knight. I'm wanting to use my Ipad to do a lot of the writing, and to that end, I purchased a new app to use. I debabed about the one I bought and Celtx, but I read some bad reviews of Celtx and the reviews on scriptpro were mostly good. Screenwriters need to take another look at the new terms Amazon studios have set up for submissions. They are much more agreeable to the writer than the originals were. I think that when I revise Knight, I am going to submit it to them. It can only make me money if they like it, and if they don't like it, it will only be tied up for 45 days instead of 18 months as in the case of the original contract. I am going to do some fiction writing, but I have decided I will continue doing screenplays primarily. I'm making money still from ACT so that justifies my writing in a genre that is very likely not going to make any money for me. That's okay. I just love the screenwriting game, and I think I can get good at it. I know; you have to be great, and you have to have connections, but they are still fun to write. I think one of my former students Jess Inman will be a director one day, and maybe when I am old and crotchety, he'll have pity on me and make a movie from one of my screenplays. I am also going to break out my Tongue Tied screenplay and work on that. Dystopian fiction seems to be the rage, and that's what tongue tied is. It has some potential I think, but I always think that about my writing. I am still coughing a lot. I went to Web MD and checked out what coughing could be a sign of. The news was not encouraging. I found that it could be anything from whooping cough, to copd, to congestive heart failure, to lung cancer to emphysema. Also maybe allergies. It acts more like whooping cough I think, but it could just be a really stubborn repiratory infection. When I was a smoker (I quit about ten years ago) I used to get bronchitis frequently. I also remember that when I was a kid, I frequently got colds and stuff-up sinuses. Anyway, I think it's getting a little better. I have noticed that every once in a while, I will get a coughing fit to where it is hard for me to stop long enough to actually take a breath, and then I get dizzy. I do feel some better though. The Cardinals won today. Lynn pitched a good game, and I was impressed because it was a real team effort. Both Berkman and Freese were out with injuries, but every pitched in. Bullpen looked good. I really like our new manager. We are 6-3 and in first place. That isn't bad. I cut grass today and saw my first of what will likely be many snakes. It was a ground snake though it was fairly long at three and a half feet or so. It didn't want any part of me, and I didn't want any part of it, so we parted with mutual respect. Well, that's all for me.

I don't know why I keep on blogging.

It doesn't make a lot of sense for me to keep blogging because I find it harder and harder to write anything that anyone would find interesting.  The thing about being a common joe is that most of your experiences are pretty common -- not the kind of thing people looking for excitement would want to read.  I originally set this blog up as just a place where I, who am a fairly common person, could express viewpoints that I consider fairly representative of what common people are concerned about.  Somewhere along the way I have lost my focus and started writing about all kinds of things.  It's hard to get a following when your audience never knows if you are going to write something they want to read.  You can't be all things to all people. As a result, you aren't much to anybody.  It takes an arrogant person to think that hundreds of people will want to read what he or she writes all the time.  Still, I don't quit.  I think about it, and even don't write anything for a while, but I always come back.

Sometimes, I write about movies.  I have gone to see the Hunger Games, and I absolutely loved it.  I know there are some people who ask why would a decent human being watch a movie AND enjoy it when it features teenagers hunting and killing each other.  That's a good question.  Stephen King believes that all of us have a dark side that needs to be sated every now and then just so that we can behave in socially acceptable ways most of the time.  I think there's something to be said for that.  To me though, the utter incongruity of the move amazed me.  All the pomp and celebration for what is essentially a death match.  The images of pomp and pain juxtaposed are especially effective.  Then, the theme itself -- the idea of punishment and redemption.  The characters are interesting also.  The movie disturbs people, but isn't that a good thing?  Of course, it's hard to make a judgement considering the entire story took three books.  Hunger Games is just one book.  The entire series is a vicious attack against hypocrisy and totalitarianism.  I won't say it's another 1984, but it has that same kind of vibe to it.

I also like to talk about music.  I have listened to a lot of it lately.  I made myself a couple of data disks full of music for my trip to Iowa City.  The two of them combined lasted for about ten hours.  I love the fact that my Toyota can play data disks because I can put several full CDs on one data disk.  I listened to Christina Aguilera, Leona Lewis, Foghat, Kansas, Boston, RTZ, Bob Seger, and a bunch of other bands.  I love all kinds of different music.  I'm fond of saying I like everything from Abba to ZZ Top.  I like country, rock, classical, pop, new age -- almost anything really.  I cannot imagine the chaotic mess my life would be if I did not listen to music.  It soothes the savage beast.  For me, it keeps the insanity at bay.  I always think of the story of Saul and David.  I think I am very much like Saul.  That's not good.

Sometimes, I talk about writing.  In Iowa City, Iowa University has one of the best known creative writing programs in the country.  I have often wondered what would have happened had I majored in creative writing.  Where would I be now?  All my life I have played it safe.  I know that isn't necessarily a bad thing, but sometimes I feel like George Gray.  If you don't know George Gray, look it up.  It's a poem out of the Spoon River Anthology by Edgar Lee Masters.  It's king of gut wrenching.

I have to go back to work -- at my real job tomorrow.  I'm so far behind.  Plus, one day soon I have to give the EOC test.  It's on a computer, and I have no idea how to do it.  The class I'm proctoring is not my class, but its teacher is proctoring another one of his classes elsewhere.  I am available, and I don't mind doing it at all.  I just don't feel comfortable doing it.  The time I
 spent in Iowa City was really nice.  The pedestrian mall is a section downtown right next to the Sheraton that features several blocks of shops and restaurants.  It's also in the heart of Iowa University campus.  All kinds of college students are walking up and down the streets.  The area is paved in bricks with benches and flowering trees everywhere.  I loved sitting and watching everyone even though it made me feel a little old.

In my writing news, I need to do some serious revising of Fall of Knight.  I have a friend who has expressed a desire to collaborate with me, but once she sees the mess it is, she may decide that she has plenty of other work to do.  I am going to revise it and get back to the screenplay of my dystopian novel/movie called Tongue Tied which is about a futuristic society where stories are outlawed and those who write them and tell them face harsh punishment or death.

Here it is, a lame attempt at an interesting blog.

The Cardinals had a great opening night, winning 4-1. Lohse pitched a great game, and I liked the look of the team.  They were more aggressive on the basepaths.  I thought they looked good.  Miami has improved their club this year, so it was not an easy game.  Now, in their second game the Cardinals currently have a 6 to 2 lead, and they have hit several home runs.  They might be really good this year.  It's too early to say that with any degree of certainty but it certainly appears to be a possibility.  I think Matheny is going to be a good manager, better in the way he works with younger players.  I think he will be willing to give the younger guys a chance when Larussa was reluctant.

I love Iowa City.  It reminds me a lot of Cape and Columbia.  College town with a nice downtown section.  Seems like there's a lot to do.  Whether I would like it as much in the winter time would be another story.  It's cold and snowy.  I like the college town atmosphere though I am a long way from being college age.  I'm one of those people who could have been a perpetual college student if I had not let my desire to earn a living get in my way.  Who knows.  If I ever moved up here, I might go back to school and attempt to get my PhD.  Not.  I'm too old.  Well, 53 isn't really old, but it is too old, in my opinion, to be going back to school. Iowa University has a tremendous creative writing program, one of the best in the country actually.

I picked up a screenwriting book that approaches the one part of screenwriting where I have trouble.  I struggle with the inner story of my characters.  I tend to write passive characters who have things happen to them, and they react to them.  I need to make my characters more proactive.

Well, I need to go find myself something to eat, so I will sign off for now and get to that.  Later.