*Some days I have lots of time to daydream. This is a result of my daydreaming of being a published novelist/essayist/blogger of great renown. Bertrand Russell once said, "The megalomaniac differs from the narcissist by the fact that he wishes to be powerful rather than charming, and seeks to be feared rather than loved. To this type belong many lunatics and most of the great men of history."
I don't know, I think that I would like to be charming too.
In this megalomaniacal thread of thought I am being interviewed by some writer from Redbook, or maybe O magazine. I can't remember, though I don't really think that I would be on Oprah's Book of the Month reading list.
I think I will start the degaussed video now. ****
Interviewer: I recently had the chance to talk to Chuck Scott, author of, “Broken Stuff and Things” at his trailer on stilts by the river. When I got there I found him eating a banana while staring at the water. I asked him what he was thinking about and his reply was, “Nothin.”
As we sat down in his kitchen to start the interview he made me promise to take a kitten before we started. I really wanted the interview, mostly because I spent all day getting lost on back roads trying to find the engineering anomaly that passes for Mr. Scott's house, so I obliged and am now the proud owner of one inbred cat.
Things that I left out were his frequent bunny trails and the occasional shooting at the neighbors dogs. All in all I found him to be a crank, but a friendly one. He offered me a Pepsi numerous times in spite of me telling him I liked Coke better. To which he would reply, “Oh, sorry, I forgot.”
1.You seem a bit pensive at times. Why do you think that comes out in your writing?
CS: Uh, because to write one must think, ponder, you know, ruminate. I have been wired in such a way that makes me see the funny in the sad and the sad in the funny. Most people only see one or the other. I have ambidextrous thought patterns. It doesn't hurt to see everything through the lens of absurdity.
2.How long have you been writing?
CS: Some of my earliest memories are of sitting in front of a 13” Philco black and white tv with my crayons, paper and a glass of milk. I think that would have been 1969, so I have been writing since I was three. I have good penmanship. Do you want a Pepsi?
3.Why do you write?
CS: If I did not write I would literally explode. No, I would puke up random words strung together in unintelligible sentences. Come to think of it, it would look like my Facebook, or blog.
4.One reading your blog would assume that you don't believe in editing. Do you ever edit?
CS: As little as possible. Can't be bored with the details. Jack Kerouac wrote his novel, On the Road on a continuous roll of paper. Imagine the conversation at the publisher's office the day that arrived. Somehow my little grammar and punctuation mistakes seem dim when compared to a friggin roll of novel.
5.Can you define your writing process?
CS: I try to steal away as little time as possible to hone my craft, and I think it shows. Usually I have an idea and go with it. This faux interview was an idea that I had about fifteen minutes ago. I thunk it and just started writing. I probably wont edit this one either.
Interviewer: One last question. What are you working on right now.
CS: I am writing a novel that involves absurdity, buffoonery, and time travel with a bit of mental illness thrown in.
Interviewer: Sound interesting. When should we expect to see it in bookstores.
CS: Somewhere between when I finish writing it and finding a liquored up publisher.
Interviewer: Thank you for your time.
CS: My pleasure. Do you want a Pepsi?
Friday, August 20, 2010
Five Questions with Chuck Scott
*Some days I have lots of time to daydream. This is a result of my daydreaming of being a published novelist/essayist/blogger of great renown. Bertrand Russell once said, "The megalomaniac differs from the narcissist by the fact that he wishes to be powerful rather than charming, and seeks to be feared rather than loved. To this type belong many lunatics and most of the great men of history."
I don't know, I think that I would like to be charming too.
In this megalomaniacal thread of thought I am being interviewed by some writer from Redbook, or maybe O magazine. I can't remember, though I don't really think that I would be on Oprah's Book of the Month reading list.
I think I will start the degaussed video now. ****
Interviewer: I recently had the chance to talk to Chuck Scott, author of, “Broken Stuff and Things” at his trailer on stilts by the river. When I got there I found him eating a banana while staring at the water. I asked him what he was thinking about and his reply was, “Nothin.”
As we sat down in his kitchen to start the interview he made me promise to take a kitten before we started. I really wanted the interview, mostly because I spent all day getting lost on back roads trying to find the engineering anomaly that passes for Mr. Scott's house, so I obliged and am now the proud owner of one inbred cat.
Things that I left out were his frequent bunny trails and the occasional shooting at the neighbors dogs. All in all I found him to be a crank, but a friendly one. He offered me a Pepsi numerous times in spite of me telling him I liked Coke better. To which he would reply, “Oh, sorry, I forgot.”
1.You seem a bit pensive at times. Why do you think that comes out in your writing?
CS: Uh, because to write one must think, ponder, you know, ruminate. I have been wired in such a way that makes me see the funny in the sad and the sad in the funny. Most people only see one or the other. I have ambidextrous thought patterns. It doesn't hurt to see everything through the lens of absurdity.
2.How long have you been writing?
CS: Some of my earliest memories are of sitting in front of a 13” Philco black and white tv with my crayons, paper and a glass of milk. I think that would have been 1969, so I have been writing since I was three. I have good penmanship. Do you want a Pepsi?
3.Why do you write?
CS: If I did not write I would literally explode. No, I would puke up random words strung together in unintelligible sentences. Come to think of it, it would look like my Facebook, or blog.
4.One reading your blog would assume that you don't believe in editing. Do you ever edit?
CS: As little as possible. Can't be bored with the details. Jack Kerouac wrote his novel, On the Road on a continuous roll of paper. Imagine the conversation at the publisher's office the day that arrived. Somehow my little grammar and punctuation mistakes seem dim when compared to a friggin roll of novel.
5.Can you define your writing process?
CS: I try to steal away as little time as possible to hone my craft, and I think it shows. Usually I have an idea and go with it. This faux interview was an idea that I had about fifteen minutes ago. I thunk it and just started writing. I probably wont edit this one either.
Interviewer: One last question. What are you working on right now.
CS: I am writing a novel that involves absurdity, buffoonery, and time travel with a bit of mental illness thrown in.
Interviewer: Sound interesting. When should we expect to see it in bookstores.
CS: Somewhere between when I finish writing it and finding a liquored up publisher.
Interviewer: Thank you for your time.
CS: My pleasure. Do you want a Pepsi?
I don't know, I think that I would like to be charming too.
In this megalomaniacal thread of thought I am being interviewed by some writer from Redbook, or maybe O magazine. I can't remember, though I don't really think that I would be on Oprah's Book of the Month reading list.
I think I will start the degaussed video now. ****
Interviewer: I recently had the chance to talk to Chuck Scott, author of, “Broken Stuff and Things” at his trailer on stilts by the river. When I got there I found him eating a banana while staring at the water. I asked him what he was thinking about and his reply was, “Nothin.”
As we sat down in his kitchen to start the interview he made me promise to take a kitten before we started. I really wanted the interview, mostly because I spent all day getting lost on back roads trying to find the engineering anomaly that passes for Mr. Scott's house, so I obliged and am now the proud owner of one inbred cat.
Things that I left out were his frequent bunny trails and the occasional shooting at the neighbors dogs. All in all I found him to be a crank, but a friendly one. He offered me a Pepsi numerous times in spite of me telling him I liked Coke better. To which he would reply, “Oh, sorry, I forgot.”
1.You seem a bit pensive at times. Why do you think that comes out in your writing?
CS: Uh, because to write one must think, ponder, you know, ruminate. I have been wired in such a way that makes me see the funny in the sad and the sad in the funny. Most people only see one or the other. I have ambidextrous thought patterns. It doesn't hurt to see everything through the lens of absurdity.
2.How long have you been writing?
CS: Some of my earliest memories are of sitting in front of a 13” Philco black and white tv with my crayons, paper and a glass of milk. I think that would have been 1969, so I have been writing since I was three. I have good penmanship. Do you want a Pepsi?
3.Why do you write?
CS: If I did not write I would literally explode. No, I would puke up random words strung together in unintelligible sentences. Come to think of it, it would look like my Facebook, or blog.
4.One reading your blog would assume that you don't believe in editing. Do you ever edit?
CS: As little as possible. Can't be bored with the details. Jack Kerouac wrote his novel, On the Road on a continuous roll of paper. Imagine the conversation at the publisher's office the day that arrived. Somehow my little grammar and punctuation mistakes seem dim when compared to a friggin roll of novel.
5.Can you define your writing process?
CS: I try to steal away as little time as possible to hone my craft, and I think it shows. Usually I have an idea and go with it. This faux interview was an idea that I had about fifteen minutes ago. I thunk it and just started writing. I probably wont edit this one either.
Interviewer: One last question. What are you working on right now.
CS: I am writing a novel that involves absurdity, buffoonery, and time travel with a bit of mental illness thrown in.
Interviewer: Sound interesting. When should we expect to see it in bookstores.
CS: Somewhere between when I finish writing it and finding a liquored up publisher.
Interviewer: Thank you for your time.
CS: My pleasure. Do you want a Pepsi?
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
10 Things I Noticed While Shopping at Walmart
It is inevitable, if you are middle class, lower class or no class, you are going to shop at Walmart. Sure, you could be a snob and shop at Target (pronounce tarjay in france) but if you live in the midwest, the south, or if you currently live in or have lived in a trailer park you are forced to shop at the House of Walton. Face it, it's cheap, convenient and dare I say again, cheap.
I will make a confession that I would have denied just minutes ago. I find myself at Walmart many times during the week. This usually involves walking through the store as my wife does the serious shopping. In my boredom I have had time to notice some things about Walmart and marketing outside the obvious tube top and price signs.
Now, keep in mind, I notice lots of things all the time. Most of the time I keep it to myself which explains my laughing out loud (LOL for those under 30) while walking around....anywhere. I am easily amused and people amuse me. I say all that to say that I could keep a running list of observations from Walmart alone. That list would be infinite if I were to add Starbucks, any grocery store and Home Depot. So, to keep this list at a acceptable readable length I have narrowed my list to Walmart (works with the title of this article) and only 10 (again, working with the title)
10. Socks at Walmart come resealable packaging. Do socks have a shelf life that warrants a resealable bag? I am not too sure what to do with the bag. Do I keep it to store my unused socks?
9. Great Value branding of everything. O.K. , most everything. I remember a day when you could find more name brand items at Walmart. Now some marketing genius thinks he has to remind me on every aisle that I am getting a “great value”. To said savant I say this: I am shopping at Walmart because I have a genetic predisposition towards being a tightwad. I would not be at Walmart otherwise.
8.I am pretty sure that all Walmart customers are NASCAR loving, American Chopper watching, Dickies wearing lemmings. This is not by choice, but by suggestion. I am pretty sure that Walmart is paid by the companies for exclusive rights to sell their wares. Think I am nuts? Have you ever seen NASCAR at Target?
7. Am I the only one offended by Pepsi's recent Throwback campaign? They have the audacity to use “Made with Real Sugar” and “Limited Time Only” as selling points. Alas, they will be forced by economics to replace the real sugar with high fructose corn syrup and water from the Ganges.
6. Miley Cyrus has way too much merchandise.
5. The “If this restroom is dirty,” switch doesn't really work. I tested this one day. I flipped the switch and stood by the T.V.'s waiting for someone to show up and clean it. I was there for 20 minutes and nobody showed. I think the switch is still on.
4. All the “Rollback” clothing is the size of a two man tent. This would be cool if I were a hip hop dancer, but I am not. It would be equally cool if I were a size requiring a two man tent sized shirt.
3. There is a lot of rotting fruits and vegetables in places where you wouldn't expect to find rotting fruit and vegetables. One time I noticed fruit flies hovering around a garment rack. “This is odd,” I thought. I looked under the rack and saw a rotting peach with a couple of bites taken out of it. I am still unsure as to when the bites occurred. Thinking about it makes me queasey.
2. No matter what time of day it is there are never more than four cash registers open. This can be overcome if you have a child with you to send over to the bank to get free Dixie cups full of popcorn.
1. All Walmart greeters are robots. They move just like any Disney robot I have ever seen. Don't believe me, go to Disneyland and check out the Lincoln robot. Same mannerisms. I am sure it is on Youtube. Check it out. I have a little test for you. The next time you go to Walmart pay attention to how the greeter greets you. Then walk down the aisle along the end of the registers to the exit/entrance and walk around to the exit/entrance you just went through moments before. Not only will you hear the exact same greeting you will notice by the glazed over expression on the greeters face that they did not remember that you just came through. One day I had some time to kill so I walked the big exit entrance circle twenty times. They are robots I tell you!
There you have it. Like I said, I have many more observations. But I have bored you enough for now.
I will make a confession that I would have denied just minutes ago. I find myself at Walmart many times during the week. This usually involves walking through the store as my wife does the serious shopping. In my boredom I have had time to notice some things about Walmart and marketing outside the obvious tube top and price signs.
Now, keep in mind, I notice lots of things all the time. Most of the time I keep it to myself which explains my laughing out loud (LOL for those under 30) while walking around....anywhere. I am easily amused and people amuse me. I say all that to say that I could keep a running list of observations from Walmart alone. That list would be infinite if I were to add Starbucks, any grocery store and Home Depot. So, to keep this list at a acceptable readable length I have narrowed my list to Walmart (works with the title of this article) and only 10 (again, working with the title)
10. Socks at Walmart come resealable packaging. Do socks have a shelf life that warrants a resealable bag? I am not too sure what to do with the bag. Do I keep it to store my unused socks?
9. Great Value branding of everything. O.K. , most everything. I remember a day when you could find more name brand items at Walmart. Now some marketing genius thinks he has to remind me on every aisle that I am getting a “great value”. To said savant I say this: I am shopping at Walmart because I have a genetic predisposition towards being a tightwad. I would not be at Walmart otherwise.
8.I am pretty sure that all Walmart customers are NASCAR loving, American Chopper watching, Dickies wearing lemmings. This is not by choice, but by suggestion. I am pretty sure that Walmart is paid by the companies for exclusive rights to sell their wares. Think I am nuts? Have you ever seen NASCAR at Target?
7. Am I the only one offended by Pepsi's recent Throwback campaign? They have the audacity to use “Made with Real Sugar” and “Limited Time Only” as selling points. Alas, they will be forced by economics to replace the real sugar with high fructose corn syrup and water from the Ganges.
6. Miley Cyrus has way too much merchandise.
5. The “If this restroom is dirty,” switch doesn't really work. I tested this one day. I flipped the switch and stood by the T.V.'s waiting for someone to show up and clean it. I was there for 20 minutes and nobody showed. I think the switch is still on.
4. All the “Rollback” clothing is the size of a two man tent. This would be cool if I were a hip hop dancer, but I am not. It would be equally cool if I were a size requiring a two man tent sized shirt.
3. There is a lot of rotting fruits and vegetables in places where you wouldn't expect to find rotting fruit and vegetables. One time I noticed fruit flies hovering around a garment rack. “This is odd,” I thought. I looked under the rack and saw a rotting peach with a couple of bites taken out of it. I am still unsure as to when the bites occurred. Thinking about it makes me queasey.
2. No matter what time of day it is there are never more than four cash registers open. This can be overcome if you have a child with you to send over to the bank to get free Dixie cups full of popcorn.
1. All Walmart greeters are robots. They move just like any Disney robot I have ever seen. Don't believe me, go to Disneyland and check out the Lincoln robot. Same mannerisms. I am sure it is on Youtube. Check it out. I have a little test for you. The next time you go to Walmart pay attention to how the greeter greets you. Then walk down the aisle along the end of the registers to the exit/entrance and walk around to the exit/entrance you just went through moments before. Not only will you hear the exact same greeting you will notice by the glazed over expression on the greeters face that they did not remember that you just came through. One day I had some time to kill so I walked the big exit entrance circle twenty times. They are robots I tell you!
There you have it. Like I said, I have many more observations. But I have bored you enough for now.
10 Things I Noticed While Shopping at Walmart
It is inevitable, if you are middle class, lower class or no class, you are going to shop at Walmart. Sure, you could be a snob and shop at Target (pronounce tarjay in france) but if you live in the midwest, the south, or if you currently live in or have lived in a trailer park you are forced to shop at the House of Walton. Face it, it's cheap, convenient and dare I say again, cheap.
I will make a confession that I would have denied just minutes ago. I find myself at Walmart many times during the week. This usually involves walking through the store as my wife does the serious shopping. In my boredom I have had time to notice some things about Walmart and marketing outside the obvious tube top and price signs.
Now, keep in mind, I notice lots of things all the time. Most of the time I keep it to myself which explains my laughing out loud (LOL for those under 30) while walking around....anywhere. I am easily amused and people amuse me. I say all that to say that I could keep a running list of observations from Walmart alone. That list would be infinite if I were to add Starbucks, any grocery store and Home Depot. So, to keep this list at a acceptable readable length I have narrowed my list to Walmart (works with the title of this article) and only 10 (again, working with the title)
10. Socks at Walmart come resealable packaging. Do socks have a shelf life that warrants a resealable bag? I am not too sure what to do with the bag. Do I keep it to store my unused socks?
9. Great Value branding of everything. O.K. , most everything. I remember a day when you could find more name brand items at Walmart. Now some marketing genius thinks he has to remind me on every aisle that I am getting a “great value”. To said savant I say this: I am shopping at Walmart because I have a genetic predisposition towards being a tightwad. I would not be at Walmart otherwise.
8.I am pretty sure that all Walmart customers are NASCAR loving, American Chopper watching, Dickies wearing lemmings. This is not by choice, but by suggestion. I am pretty sure that Walmart is paid by the companies for exclusive rights to sell their wares. Think I am nuts? Have you ever seen NASCAR at Target?
7. Am I the only one offended by Pepsi's recent Throwback campaign? They have the audacity to use “Made with Real Sugar” and “Limited Time Only” as selling points. Alas, they will be forced by economics to replace the real sugar with high fructose corn syrup and water from the Ganges.
6. Miley Cyrus has way too much merchandise.
5. The “If this restroom is dirty,” switch doesn't really work. I tested this one day. I flipped the switch and stood by the T.V.'s waiting for someone to show up and clean it. I was there for 20 minutes and nobody showed. I think the switch is still on.
4. All the “Rollback” clothing is the size of a two man tent. This would be cool if I were a hip hop dancer, but I am not. It would be equally cool if I were a size requiring a two man tent sized shirt.
3. There is a lot of rotting fruits and vegetables in places where you wouldn't expect to find rotting fruit and vegetables. One time I noticed fruit flies hovering around a garment rack. “This is odd,” I thought. I looked under the rack and saw a rotting peach with a couple of bites taken out of it. I am still unsure as to when the bites occurred. Thinking about it makes me queasey.
2. No matter what time of day it is there are never more than four cash registers open. This can be overcome if you have a child with you to send over to the bank to get free Dixie cups full of popcorn.
1. All Walmart greeters are robots. They move just like any Disney robot I have ever seen. Don't believe me, go to Disneyland and check out the Lincoln robot. Same mannerisms. I am sure it is on Youtube. Check it out. I have a little test for you. The next time you go to Walmart pay attention to how the greeter greets you. Then walk down the aisle along the end of the registers to the exit/entrance and walk around to the exit/entrance you just went through moments before. Not only will you hear the exact same greeting you will notice by the glazed over expression on the greeters face that they did not remember that you just came through. One day I had some time to kill so I walked the big exit entrance circle twenty times. They are robots I tell you!
There you have it. Like I said, I have many more observations. But I have bored you enough for now.
I will make a confession that I would have denied just minutes ago. I find myself at Walmart many times during the week. This usually involves walking through the store as my wife does the serious shopping. In my boredom I have had time to notice some things about Walmart and marketing outside the obvious tube top and price signs.
Now, keep in mind, I notice lots of things all the time. Most of the time I keep it to myself which explains my laughing out loud (LOL for those under 30) while walking around....anywhere. I am easily amused and people amuse me. I say all that to say that I could keep a running list of observations from Walmart alone. That list would be infinite if I were to add Starbucks, any grocery store and Home Depot. So, to keep this list at a acceptable readable length I have narrowed my list to Walmart (works with the title of this article) and only 10 (again, working with the title)
10. Socks at Walmart come resealable packaging. Do socks have a shelf life that warrants a resealable bag? I am not too sure what to do with the bag. Do I keep it to store my unused socks?
9. Great Value branding of everything. O.K. , most everything. I remember a day when you could find more name brand items at Walmart. Now some marketing genius thinks he has to remind me on every aisle that I am getting a “great value”. To said savant I say this: I am shopping at Walmart because I have a genetic predisposition towards being a tightwad. I would not be at Walmart otherwise.
8.I am pretty sure that all Walmart customers are NASCAR loving, American Chopper watching, Dickies wearing lemmings. This is not by choice, but by suggestion. I am pretty sure that Walmart is paid by the companies for exclusive rights to sell their wares. Think I am nuts? Have you ever seen NASCAR at Target?
7. Am I the only one offended by Pepsi's recent Throwback campaign? They have the audacity to use “Made with Real Sugar” and “Limited Time Only” as selling points. Alas, they will be forced by economics to replace the real sugar with high fructose corn syrup and water from the Ganges.
6. Miley Cyrus has way too much merchandise.
5. The “If this restroom is dirty,” switch doesn't really work. I tested this one day. I flipped the switch and stood by the T.V.'s waiting for someone to show up and clean it. I was there for 20 minutes and nobody showed. I think the switch is still on.
4. All the “Rollback” clothing is the size of a two man tent. This would be cool if I were a hip hop dancer, but I am not. It would be equally cool if I were a size requiring a two man tent sized shirt.
3. There is a lot of rotting fruits and vegetables in places where you wouldn't expect to find rotting fruit and vegetables. One time I noticed fruit flies hovering around a garment rack. “This is odd,” I thought. I looked under the rack and saw a rotting peach with a couple of bites taken out of it. I am still unsure as to when the bites occurred. Thinking about it makes me queasey.
2. No matter what time of day it is there are never more than four cash registers open. This can be overcome if you have a child with you to send over to the bank to get free Dixie cups full of popcorn.
1. All Walmart greeters are robots. They move just like any Disney robot I have ever seen. Don't believe me, go to Disneyland and check out the Lincoln robot. Same mannerisms. I am sure it is on Youtube. Check it out. I have a little test for you. The next time you go to Walmart pay attention to how the greeter greets you. Then walk down the aisle along the end of the registers to the exit/entrance and walk around to the exit/entrance you just went through moments before. Not only will you hear the exact same greeting you will notice by the glazed over expression on the greeters face that they did not remember that you just came through. One day I had some time to kill so I walked the big exit entrance circle twenty times. They are robots I tell you!
There you have it. Like I said, I have many more observations. But I have bored you enough for now.
Monday, August 16, 2010
Grandpa Eck
The summer of 1975 in Southern California my brother Andy and I, as latch key kids, had roaming rights to most, if not all of Orange County. Our day started as Mom left for work at the Bank of America building. She didn't work for Bank of America. She worked for Traveler's Insurance. Monday through Friday she would peek her head into our room to tell us that she was leaving for work. We would make a bleary eyed, grunt like acknowledgment and she would leave. We usually waited to hear the sound of her VW bug chugging away before we got out of bed.
Our routine involved roaming around looking for something to do. Sometimes we would fly kites at the school yard. Sometimes we would roam up and down the tree lined suburban streets looking for new friends. Aimless days of summer, nothing to do except to do nothing.
It was how we met Eck. Eck was his last name. He was an 80 year old man that we came upon while walking around. I remember that we were walking exceptionally slow that day, so slow that Eck called us over and offered us a drink. Back then we didn't have McGruff to warn us about strange old men offering drinks or candy so we accepted two Pepsis. Pepsi with real sugar. Good stuff.
That summer we made it over to Eck's house almost everyday. He would load us up with Pepsi, we would stay around just long enough to annoy him. Eck would sit in his worn out lawn chair chewing plug tobacco and telling us about the good old days when there wasn't much more than orange groves and dirt roads. He would tell us about the old trolleys and how, when he was our age, he would hop on the trolley and ride as far as he could for free. “Now don't get any ideas about hopping on a bus without paying. They'll haul you in for that,” he would say.
It was too late. We already tried it successfully.
We would sit there on his concrete driveway and listen to his stories about watching moving pictures being made in the hills, stealing oranges and watching Disneyland being built as he drove by on his way to work. Every couple of minutes he would spit tobacco juice towards a shrub, which he would always miss. He would continue his story, always a bit of spittle running from the corner of his mouth down his stubbly chin. He would also discard his plugs around the same area, warning us to not touch such a filthy thing.
As life goes, so does time. School started back up and we lost touch with Eck. That summer we had the closest thing to a grandfather we would have until our mom remarried and we inherited Grandpa Joe. I wish we stayed in contact after school started, but we were kids and easily distracted. Anyway, thank you Eck for humoring a couple of latchkey kids. After 35 years you are not forgotten.
Our routine involved roaming around looking for something to do. Sometimes we would fly kites at the school yard. Sometimes we would roam up and down the tree lined suburban streets looking for new friends. Aimless days of summer, nothing to do except to do nothing.
It was how we met Eck. Eck was his last name. He was an 80 year old man that we came upon while walking around. I remember that we were walking exceptionally slow that day, so slow that Eck called us over and offered us a drink. Back then we didn't have McGruff to warn us about strange old men offering drinks or candy so we accepted two Pepsis. Pepsi with real sugar. Good stuff.
That summer we made it over to Eck's house almost everyday. He would load us up with Pepsi, we would stay around just long enough to annoy him. Eck would sit in his worn out lawn chair chewing plug tobacco and telling us about the good old days when there wasn't much more than orange groves and dirt roads. He would tell us about the old trolleys and how, when he was our age, he would hop on the trolley and ride as far as he could for free. “Now don't get any ideas about hopping on a bus without paying. They'll haul you in for that,” he would say.
It was too late. We already tried it successfully.
We would sit there on his concrete driveway and listen to his stories about watching moving pictures being made in the hills, stealing oranges and watching Disneyland being built as he drove by on his way to work. Every couple of minutes he would spit tobacco juice towards a shrub, which he would always miss. He would continue his story, always a bit of spittle running from the corner of his mouth down his stubbly chin. He would also discard his plugs around the same area, warning us to not touch such a filthy thing.
As life goes, so does time. School started back up and we lost touch with Eck. That summer we had the closest thing to a grandfather we would have until our mom remarried and we inherited Grandpa Joe. I wish we stayed in contact after school started, but we were kids and easily distracted. Anyway, thank you Eck for humoring a couple of latchkey kids. After 35 years you are not forgotten.
Grandpa Eck
The summer of 1975 in Southern California my brother Andy and I, as latch key kids, had roaming rights to most, if not all of Orange County. Our day started as Mom left for work at the Bank of America building. She didn't work for Bank of America. She worked for Traveler's Insurance. Monday through Friday she would peek her head into our room to tell us that she was leaving for work. We would make a bleary eyed, grunt like acknowledgment and she would leave. We usually waited to hear the sound of her VW bug chugging away before we got out of bed.
Our routine involved roaming around looking for something to do. Sometimes we would fly kites at the school yard. Sometimes we would roam up and down the tree lined suburban streets looking for new friends. Aimless days of summer, nothing to do except to do nothing.
It was how we met Eck. Eck was his last name. He was an 80 year old man that we came upon while walking around. I remember that we were walking exceptionally slow that day, so slow that Eck called us over and offered us a drink. Back then we didn't have McGruff to warn us about strange old men offering drinks or candy so we accepted two Pepsis. Pepsi with real sugar. Good stuff.
That summer we made it over to Eck's house almost everyday. He would load us up with Pepsi, we would stay around just long enough to annoy him. Eck would sit in his worn out lawn chair chewing plug tobacco and telling us about the good old days when there wasn't much more than orange groves and dirt roads. He would tell us about the old trolleys and how, when he was our age, he would hop on the trolley and ride as far as he could for free. “Now don't get any ideas about hopping on a bus without paying. They'll haul you in for that,” he would say.
It was too late. We already tried it successfully.
We would sit there on his concrete driveway and listen to his stories about watching moving pictures being made in the hills, stealing oranges and watching Disneyland being built as he drove by on his way to work. Every couple of minutes he would spit tobacco juice towards a shrub, which he would always miss. He would continue his story, always a bit of spittle running from the corner of his mouth down his stubbly chin. He would also discard his plugs around the same area, warning us to not touch such a filthy thing.
As life goes, so does time. School started back up and we lost touch with Eck. That summer we had the closest thing to a grandfather we would have until our mom remarried and we inherited Grandpa Joe. I wish we stayed in contact after school started, but we were kids and easily distracted. Anyway, thank you Eck for humoring a couple of latchkey kids. After 35 years you are not forgotten.
Our routine involved roaming around looking for something to do. Sometimes we would fly kites at the school yard. Sometimes we would roam up and down the tree lined suburban streets looking for new friends. Aimless days of summer, nothing to do except to do nothing.
It was how we met Eck. Eck was his last name. He was an 80 year old man that we came upon while walking around. I remember that we were walking exceptionally slow that day, so slow that Eck called us over and offered us a drink. Back then we didn't have McGruff to warn us about strange old men offering drinks or candy so we accepted two Pepsis. Pepsi with real sugar. Good stuff.
That summer we made it over to Eck's house almost everyday. He would load us up with Pepsi, we would stay around just long enough to annoy him. Eck would sit in his worn out lawn chair chewing plug tobacco and telling us about the good old days when there wasn't much more than orange groves and dirt roads. He would tell us about the old trolleys and how, when he was our age, he would hop on the trolley and ride as far as he could for free. “Now don't get any ideas about hopping on a bus without paying. They'll haul you in for that,” he would say.
It was too late. We already tried it successfully.
We would sit there on his concrete driveway and listen to his stories about watching moving pictures being made in the hills, stealing oranges and watching Disneyland being built as he drove by on his way to work. Every couple of minutes he would spit tobacco juice towards a shrub, which he would always miss. He would continue his story, always a bit of spittle running from the corner of his mouth down his stubbly chin. He would also discard his plugs around the same area, warning us to not touch such a filthy thing.
As life goes, so does time. School started back up and we lost touch with Eck. That summer we had the closest thing to a grandfather we would have until our mom remarried and we inherited Grandpa Joe. I wish we stayed in contact after school started, but we were kids and easily distracted. Anyway, thank you Eck for humoring a couple of latchkey kids. After 35 years you are not forgotten.
Saturday, July 31, 2010
Rough Draft Excerpt
Harry
The sky is bright today. I am not too sure if this is intensified by my cars missing sun visor or not, but it sure is bright. I like days like this...as long as I have sunglasses. Bright days like these, along with the popcorn clouds give me something to do while driving. There is a slight breeze today and it is pushing the clouds south; which is the direction I am going at the moment. The sun is casting shadows from the clouds down onto the road. I am finding myself chasing them as they go. I speed up, chasing a cloud, the wind picks up and I have to play catch up. I am not too sure what this is doing for my mileage, but it sure does pass the time as I am driving.
“In point three miles, exit right, then turn left.”
Wow, I forgot that was on. I wonder how Harry the Mormon is? I haven't seen him in a couple of days. I'll have to call him when I get back.
I don't know why I just thought of Harry.
O.K. what was I just thinking about. Clouds, driving, left turn that I just missed....I can turn around...oh, GPS...A couple of days ago I had a talk with Harry about getting a GPS. The conversation makes me smile now, but I remember being a little aggravated.
I usually see Harry every other day, but we have made it a point to get together for coffee at Starbucks every Tuesday. Last Tuesday I had been waiting almost an hour for our weekly meeting when Harry finally showed up. “Sorry I am late. I got lost,” he said as he threw his bag down by the table and, in one smooth seamless motion walked to the counter to order.
Harry is always getting lost. Harry is directionally challenged. If there is ever a drug for it Harry would be the poster boy....I smile thinking of the commercial and all listed side effects. I can hear the announcer, “side effects include, vomiting, blindness and in rare instances inter-cranial bleeding leading to death.” I picture some middle aged, former hand model trying his chops at acting coming on the screen acting like some real person carrying on with life oblivious to the camera, then turning towards the camera and saying, “I may be dying, but thanks to Direcstra I know where I'm going.” and then totally going back to the bad acting that is supposed to make me think they are real people.
I continued the conversation with Harry as he orders his triple mocha latte with non fat milk, “You really need to do something about this late thing Harry.”
“What do you mean?” He asked as if it were his first time hearing about this.
“Have you ever thought about getting a GPS?” I asked, knowing that Harry would be the most punctual person if he knew where he was going.
Not too long ago Harry had told me about his two year mission with the Mormon church. He confided that he had lost count of how many partners he had gone through during that time simply because he insisted on leading the way to prospective homes. This probably wouldn't have been a bad idea had Harry not been sent to rural Illinois. I am sure those poor souls got tired riding their bikes on long dusty roads occasionally stopping on the road only to hear Harry say, “It's gotta be around here somewhere,”.
But with age comes wisdom, and Harry, along with all his friends, know better than to trust him when it comes to directions.
I'll have to call him when I get back.
I wonder why people question why I am hanging out with Harry the Mormon? I like the guy. He's always late, and gets lost all of the time, but he is nice. He doesn't try to convert me, and I don't talk to him, too much, about the Bible. Sometimes I think he knows the Bible better than me though. What is really cool, and it is probably cool only to me is that he lets me introduce him as Harry the Mormon. Most people don't like to be introduced like that.
That reminds me of this guy in town named Bob Williams. Bob is African American. The only African American in town. For a long time everyone called him Black Bob. I was never sure why they did that because there are a few Bobs in town, including one Bob that is pasty white and they never called him Pasty White Bob as far as I know. I never called him Black Bob. I called him Mr. Williams because he was my dad's age. One year at the fair Mr. Williams, an accomplished musician by the way, was waiting just off stage to perform. The MC introduced him as Black Bob Williams. Mr Williams walked to the piano, sat down and pulled the microphone over and said, “My name is Bob Williams. You all know that. For years you have called me Black Bob and I want to say that I do not like that. My name is Bob..Just Bob.”
Bob waited a few seconds and then started playing.
I am sure there is no parallel here. Being a Mormon is not a race. Yet for whatever reason my head is making that connection today.
As far as the rest of my conversation with Harry went, he agreed that he had indeed thought of buying a GPS. When we parted ways that day he was on his way to purchase one. At that moment I made a mental wager with myself. I bet he gets one. I bet he doesn't. If I win I get ten bucks. If lose I still win because I bet myself.
Sometimes I am amazed at my mad logic skills.
I gotta call Harry when I get back.
I manage to turn around and head back towards my sisters new house.
"In five hundred feet, you have reached your destination, on right.”
Rough Draft Excerpt
Harry
The sky is bright today. I am not too sure if this is intensified by my cars missing sun visor or not, but it sure is bright. I like days like this...as long as I have sunglasses. Bright days like these, along with the popcorn clouds give me something to do while driving. There is a slight breeze today and it is pushing the clouds south; which is the direction I am going at the moment. The sun is casting shadows from the clouds down onto the road. I am finding myself chasing them as they go. I speed up, chasing a cloud, the wind picks up and I have to play catch up. I am not too sure what this is doing for my mileage, but it sure does pass the time as I am driving.
“In point three miles, exit right, then turn left.”
Wow, I forgot that was on. I wonder how Harry the Mormon is? I haven't seen him in a couple of days. I'll have to call him when I get back.
I don't know why I just thought of Harry.
O.K. what was I just thinking about. Clouds, driving, left turn that I just missed....I can turn around...oh, GPS...A couple of days ago I had a talk with Harry about getting a GPS. The conversation makes me smile now, but I remember being a little aggravated.
I usually see Harry every other day, but we have made it a point to get together for coffee at Starbucks every Tuesday. Last Tuesday I had been waiting almost an hour for our weekly meeting when Harry finally showed up. “Sorry I am late. I got lost,” he said as he threw his bag down by the table and, in one smooth seamless motion walked to the counter to order.
Harry is always getting lost. Harry is directionally challenged. If there is ever a drug for it Harry would be the poster boy....I smile thinking of the commercial and all listed side effects. I can hear the announcer, “side effects include, vomiting, blindness and in rare instances inter-cranial bleeding leading to death.” I picture some middle aged, former hand model trying his chops at acting coming on the screen acting like some real person carrying on with life oblivious to the camera, then turning towards the camera and saying, “I may be dying, but thanks to Direcstra I know where I'm going.” and then totally going back to the bad acting that is supposed to make me think they are real people.
I continued the conversation with Harry as he orders his triple mocha latte with non fat milk, “You really need to do something about this late thing Harry.”
“What do you mean?” He asked as if it were his first time hearing about this.
“Have you ever thought about getting a GPS?” I asked, knowing that Harry would be the most punctual person if he knew where he was going.
Not too long ago Harry had told me about his two year mission with the Mormon church. He confided that he had lost count of how many partners he had gone through during that time simply because he insisted on leading the way to prospective homes. This probably wouldn't have been a bad idea had Harry not been sent to rural Illinois. I am sure those poor souls got tired riding their bikes on long dusty roads occasionally stopping on the road only to hear Harry say, “It's gotta be around here somewhere,”.
But with age comes wisdom, and Harry, along with all his friends, know better than to trust him when it comes to directions.
I'll have to call him when I get back.
I wonder why people question why I am hanging out with Harry the Mormon? I like the guy. He's always late, and gets lost all of the time, but he is nice. He doesn't try to convert me, and I don't talk to him, too much, about the Bible. Sometimes I think he knows the Bible better than me though. What is really cool, and it is probably cool only to me is that he lets me introduce him as Harry the Mormon. Most people don't like to be introduced like that.
That reminds me of this guy in town named Bob Williams. Bob is African American. The only African American in town. For a long time everyone called him Black Bob. I was never sure why they did that because there are a few Bobs in town, including one Bob that is pasty white and they never called him Pasty White Bob as far as I know. I never called him Black Bob. I called him Mr. Williams because he was my dad's age. One year at the fair Mr. Williams, an accomplished musician by the way, was waiting just off stage to perform. The MC introduced him as Black Bob Williams. Mr Williams walked to the piano, sat down and pulled the microphone over and said, “My name is Bob Williams. You all know that. For years you have called me Black Bob and I want to say that I do not like that. My name is Bob..Just Bob.”
Bob waited a few seconds and then started playing.
I am sure there is no parallel here. Being a Mormon is not a race. Yet for whatever reason my head is making that connection today.
As far as the rest of my conversation with Harry went, he agreed that he had indeed thought of buying a GPS. When we parted ways that day he was on his way to purchase one. At that moment I made a mental wager with myself. I bet he gets one. I bet he doesn't. If I win I get ten bucks. If lose I still win because I bet myself.
Sometimes I am amazed at my mad logic skills.
I gotta call Harry when I get back.
I manage to turn around and head back towards my sisters new house.
"In five hundred feet, you have reached your destination, on right.”
Friday, July 16, 2010
writing about thinking and thinking about writing.....
I have lots to think about and lots of time to think about it. Some of my earliest thoughts revolved around the superficial things in life. In the 1970's one thought involved getting real motorcycle handlebars for my Schwinn Stingray that I bought for five bucks. Heck, that bike was a thought. So was the five bucks, albeit a fleeting one.
So, with all my thinking about thinking I started thinking about what I like to think about most...what to write next. As a child I toyed with the idea Of being a writer. The only classes I would go to in high school were the ones that involved literature and composition. There was the occasional wood shop, or small engine repair detour, but for the most part I ditched all the classes I didn't like and attended the ones I did. The result of this method of education was never graduating from high school. I did finally get a diploma in the Army after they realized the let me in without one. Those were the easiest four months of my Army career.
A lot of writers have influenced me over the years. For a long time I would find myself trying to mimic some part of their style to make my own. Who knows, maybe I was successful in taking bits and pieces of style and made the perfect Frankenstein. Hopefully it wont kill you, just mildly bore instead. The thing is that I don't want to be those writers. They do, or did their job well. Nope, I wanna be me.
I have had stories going through my head because, as I stated earlier, I have lots of time to think. For a while I thought I wanted to write some sort of self help seven steps to a cleaner soul type of book, but recently discarded that idea after realizing I rarely clean my ears. I have started and restarted writing stories that have nothing to do with anything other than people and their stories. Most of it focusing on the absurd things that happen to me daily. In short, telling my story through the story of some guy, or groups of people that I made up. What they do depends largely on what people around me do. Writing what I know, and if I don't know you, don't worry. That is unless you happen to serve me coffee at Starbucks or something like that.
This particular thought on writing and thought got it's start here. It's a contest where one can win a trip for two to Portland, Oregon for a seminar on how to write about your life,and rewriting it to live the life you want to live. Donald Miller of Blue Like Jazz fame is putting it on. I like his writing, but I am not going to enter. Mostly because I think I have writing my life covered and Portland just doesn't seem like a destination point in my life. Sorry Portland. If it helps, you ain't missing much.
So, why do I bother to write about thinking, writing and a contest for a seminar that I am not going to? I am glad you asked. My whole reason for doing this is to sort of kick my self in the butt to write more. For the last year and a half I have written very little. I have attributed it to not having the time which really isn't true. Mostly I think I got burned out on what I was writing about and needed some new fodder. Gone are my thoughts about religion and spirituality. Instead I will think and write more about God and my relationship with Him and others and my relationship with them and Him. Mostly it will be through story, my story fictionalized to protect the innocent and those with good lawyers.
I will share some thoughts and pieces of these stories on this blog, on Facebook and hopefully in book form as time progresses. You are invited to be either entertained, or bored to death. Just remember that I am the messenger so don't shoot me...
So, with all my thinking about thinking I started thinking about what I like to think about most...what to write next. As a child I toyed with the idea Of being a writer. The only classes I would go to in high school were the ones that involved literature and composition. There was the occasional wood shop, or small engine repair detour, but for the most part I ditched all the classes I didn't like and attended the ones I did. The result of this method of education was never graduating from high school. I did finally get a diploma in the Army after they realized the let me in without one. Those were the easiest four months of my Army career.
A lot of writers have influenced me over the years. For a long time I would find myself trying to mimic some part of their style to make my own. Who knows, maybe I was successful in taking bits and pieces of style and made the perfect Frankenstein. Hopefully it wont kill you, just mildly bore instead. The thing is that I don't want to be those writers. They do, or did their job well. Nope, I wanna be me.
I have had stories going through my head because, as I stated earlier, I have lots of time to think. For a while I thought I wanted to write some sort of self help seven steps to a cleaner soul type of book, but recently discarded that idea after realizing I rarely clean my ears. I have started and restarted writing stories that have nothing to do with anything other than people and their stories. Most of it focusing on the absurd things that happen to me daily. In short, telling my story through the story of some guy, or groups of people that I made up. What they do depends largely on what people around me do. Writing what I know, and if I don't know you, don't worry. That is unless you happen to serve me coffee at Starbucks or something like that.
This particular thought on writing and thought got it's start here. It's a contest where one can win a trip for two to Portland, Oregon for a seminar on how to write about your life,and rewriting it to live the life you want to live. Donald Miller of Blue Like Jazz fame is putting it on. I like his writing, but I am not going to enter. Mostly because I think I have writing my life covered and Portland just doesn't seem like a destination point in my life. Sorry Portland. If it helps, you ain't missing much.
So, why do I bother to write about thinking, writing and a contest for a seminar that I am not going to? I am glad you asked. My whole reason for doing this is to sort of kick my self in the butt to write more. For the last year and a half I have written very little. I have attributed it to not having the time which really isn't true. Mostly I think I got burned out on what I was writing about and needed some new fodder. Gone are my thoughts about religion and spirituality. Instead I will think and write more about God and my relationship with Him and others and my relationship with them and Him. Mostly it will be through story, my story fictionalized to protect the innocent and those with good lawyers.
I will share some thoughts and pieces of these stories on this blog, on Facebook and hopefully in book form as time progresses. You are invited to be either entertained, or bored to death. Just remember that I am the messenger so don't shoot me...
writing about thinking and thinking about writing.....
I have lots to think about and lots of time to think about it. Some of my earliest thoughts revolved around the superficial things in life. In the 1970's one thought involved getting real motorcycle handlebars for my Schwinn Stingray that I bought for five bucks. Heck, that bike was a thought. So was the five bucks, albeit a fleeting one.
So, with all my thinking about thinking I started thinking about what I like to think about most...what to write next. As a child I toyed with the idea Of being a writer. The only classes I would go to in high school were the ones that involved literature and composition. There was the occasional wood shop, or small engine repair detour, but for the most part I ditched all the classes I didn't like and attended the ones I did. The result of this method of education was never graduating from high school. I did finally get a diploma in the Army after they realized the let me in without one. Those were the easiest four months of my Army career.
A lot of writers have influenced me over the years. For a long time I would find myself trying to mimic some part of their style to make my own. Who knows, maybe I was successful in taking bits and pieces of style and made the perfect Frankenstein. Hopefully it wont kill you, just mildly bore instead. The thing is that I don't want to be those writers. They do, or did their job well. Nope, I wanna be me.
I have had stories going through my head because, as I stated earlier, I have lots of time to think. For a while I thought I wanted to write some sort of self help seven steps to a cleaner soul type of book, but recently discarded that idea after realizing I rarely clean my ears. I have started and restarted writing stories that have nothing to do with anything other than people and their stories. Most of it focusing on the absurd things that happen to me daily. In short, telling my story through the story of some guy, or groups of people that I made up. What they do depends largely on what people around me do. Writing what I know, and if I don't know you, don't worry. That is unless you happen to serve me coffee at Starbucks or something like that.
This particular thought on writing and thought got it's start here. It's a contest where one can win a trip for two to Portland, Oregon for a seminar on how to write about your life,and rewriting it to live the life you want to live. Donald Miller of Blue Like Jazz fame is putting it on. I like his writing, but I am not going to enter. Mostly because I think I have writing my life covered and Portland just doesn't seem like a destination point in my life. Sorry Portland. If it helps, you ain't missing much.
So, why do I bother to write about thinking, writing and a contest for a seminar that I am not going to? I am glad you asked. My whole reason for doing this is to sort of kick my self in the butt to write more. For the last year and a half I have written very little. I have attributed it to not having the time which really isn't true. Mostly I think I got burned out on what I was writing about and needed some new fodder. Gone are my thoughts about religion and spirituality. Instead I will think and write more about God and my relationship with Him and others and my relationship with them and Him. Mostly it will be through story, my story fictionalized to protect the innocent and those with good lawyers.
I will share some thoughts and pieces of these stories on this blog, on Facebook and hopefully in book form as time progresses. You are invited to be either entertained, or bored to death. Just remember that I am the messenger so don't shoot me...
So, with all my thinking about thinking I started thinking about what I like to think about most...what to write next. As a child I toyed with the idea Of being a writer. The only classes I would go to in high school were the ones that involved literature and composition. There was the occasional wood shop, or small engine repair detour, but for the most part I ditched all the classes I didn't like and attended the ones I did. The result of this method of education was never graduating from high school. I did finally get a diploma in the Army after they realized the let me in without one. Those were the easiest four months of my Army career.
A lot of writers have influenced me over the years. For a long time I would find myself trying to mimic some part of their style to make my own. Who knows, maybe I was successful in taking bits and pieces of style and made the perfect Frankenstein. Hopefully it wont kill you, just mildly bore instead. The thing is that I don't want to be those writers. They do, or did their job well. Nope, I wanna be me.
I have had stories going through my head because, as I stated earlier, I have lots of time to think. For a while I thought I wanted to write some sort of self help seven steps to a cleaner soul type of book, but recently discarded that idea after realizing I rarely clean my ears. I have started and restarted writing stories that have nothing to do with anything other than people and their stories. Most of it focusing on the absurd things that happen to me daily. In short, telling my story through the story of some guy, or groups of people that I made up. What they do depends largely on what people around me do. Writing what I know, and if I don't know you, don't worry. That is unless you happen to serve me coffee at Starbucks or something like that.
This particular thought on writing and thought got it's start here. It's a contest where one can win a trip for two to Portland, Oregon for a seminar on how to write about your life,and rewriting it to live the life you want to live. Donald Miller of Blue Like Jazz fame is putting it on. I like his writing, but I am not going to enter. Mostly because I think I have writing my life covered and Portland just doesn't seem like a destination point in my life. Sorry Portland. If it helps, you ain't missing much.
So, why do I bother to write about thinking, writing and a contest for a seminar that I am not going to? I am glad you asked. My whole reason for doing this is to sort of kick my self in the butt to write more. For the last year and a half I have written very little. I have attributed it to not having the time which really isn't true. Mostly I think I got burned out on what I was writing about and needed some new fodder. Gone are my thoughts about religion and spirituality. Instead I will think and write more about God and my relationship with Him and others and my relationship with them and Him. Mostly it will be through story, my story fictionalized to protect the innocent and those with good lawyers.
I will share some thoughts and pieces of these stories on this blog, on Facebook and hopefully in book form as time progresses. You are invited to be either entertained, or bored to death. Just remember that I am the messenger so don't shoot me...
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