Music Fest Part 3

So to continue, and perhaps wrap up my recap of the musical weekend...

We arrived in Scenery Hill around 9:00 p.m. Our friends graciously helped us get all our stuff in. (For those of you who have never traveled with kids, it's basically one suitcase and about 10 coolers, crates of toys, and other.) We took the kids up to the room, got them a snack, set up their beds, and then headed down to the party. With them.

Within about two minutes I had a glass of Cabernet in one hand, my guitar in the other, and Olivia on my lap. I couldn't help but think of the line from the Reese Witherspoon movie, Sweet Home Alabama: "Look at you, you have a baby... In a bar."

Around 10:30, we got the kids to bed and headed back down. If you're thinking, "What kind of parent would leave their kids in a hotel room," let me point out two things:

1. We had them on monitor, and

2. It's an inn, and the place is about the same size as some of our friends' houses. (In fact, it it basically a big house.)

My personal highlight from the evening...

A lady asked for some Peter, Paul, and Mary. The only tune by them that I know is "Leaving On A Jet Plane" which, of course, was written by John Denver. Standing near me were two 30-ish couples. I didn't hear them say it, but later my wife said she overheard them poo-pooing me for playing John Denver.

After I finished "Jet Plane," I asked them if they wanted to hear something.

"White Wedding" by Billy Idol, said one.

"You got it," I said. I played a little of it, but then jumped into "Dancing With Myself." It's an easier song, so I thought some of my friends could join in.

After that, I asked if they wanted anything else.

"The Smiths," one of the girls said.

I started, "Stop Me If You Think You've Heard This One Before," but again stopped short, and said, "How about 'Girlfriend In A Coma?' "

"That's my favorite!" she gushed.

After I polished off a few more requests, I thought, "So the old guy can rock." And after my wife had told me about their anti-John-Denver comments, I was even more satisfied.

We finished up around 1:00 a.m., and headed to bed.

Perhaps I will finish the story later in a future post.

Funny Foto #5

I know I shouldn't do this while driving on the freeway, but I can't help myself. Today, this is what I saw out the front window.

 



 I zoomed in a little, using the camera's zoom, rather than my accelerator.

Though it's still hard to see, this car has a bumpersticker which reads, "Safety is my goal. 1-888-nnn-nnnn." The irony, of course, is that in order to read the phone number and this driver's personal number, I would have to tailgate him.

Music Fest, Part 2

So to continue my story...

The Century Inn is a magnificent place. As the sign out front says

it has been in operation since 1794, and was a "popular stop for stage coaches and waggoners." As an aside, this sign was damaged a few years ago; our friend Dave rebuilt and carefully repainted it.

It's no exaggeration to say that every time I go there, I am amazed to think about the history of the building and grounds...how many people have walked through its halls and over its lawns.

The original building (I have a picture of the front in my previous post) is a three-story stone structure. There was an addition put on at some point. I'm not sure when; I'll have to ask Megin some time.

Inside, when you walk from the old section to the new, you pass over an old stone threshold. Take a look at it:

You can clearly see it's scalloped, no doubt the result of centuries' worth of boots scraping on it.

The walls are covered with period art. In our room, was this:

Though it's a little hard to see, among the words stitched on it you can read, "Cynthia Barr was born May 21 1770," and "Cynthia Barr is my Name & with my needle wrought." The date on it reads March 8, 1786.

I don't care whether or not you're a history buff. The Century Inn is just a breathtaking place to visit. I'm fortunate to have lucked into a group of friends who found it for me. Otherwise, I might never have experienced it.

I can envision that some day, some piece of this time capsule of American history will find its way into a poem, story, or novel that I write.

Music Fest: A Great Weekend!

We just got back from our annual music party in Scenery Hill, Pennsylvania. I'll go into more details in a subsequent post or two. But I thought I'd give the overview tonight.

The event started as a pig roast at the family farm of my wife's friends (well before she and I met) years ago...perhaps the 1970s or 1980s. But from what I've been told, it got out of control when friends started inviting friends, who started inviting friends...  

So it went on hiatus. But Jake brought it back about a dozen or so years ago at the Century Inn in Scenery Hill.

The Century Inn was established in 1794, and is the oldest operating inn in America. I think George Washington did sleep there.

The party itself is Saturday from 5:00 to ??? in the gazebo out back. And it's huge. Probably 150 people show up, and nearly half bring an instrument of some sort. But on Friday, Jake and the out-of-town folks are there having a more intimate gathering. Even though we're only about 2 1/2 hours away (and therefore could come out Saturday afternoon) we always show up Friday. When you walk in the front door, there is a center hall which leads to the back, with the stairs ahead and just off-center to the right. But a sharp right turn takes you into the tavern.

Back before we had children, we usually would enter, see our friends singing, playing, and drinking in the tavern, and just drop our bags in the hall, get out our guitars, walk in, and sing and play until about 2:00 a.m. Then we'd find our room, go to bed, get up, and repeat. The kids have changed the routine slightly, but not much.

 In my next post I'll write about some of the highlights of this year's event.

Cool Picture From Cleveland

I imagine that this really has not made the news outside of northeast Ohio, but they're filming part of "The Avengers" in downtown Cleveland. One of my buddy's co-worker snapped this at lunch the other day.

 


Neat, huh?

Funny Foto #4

Alex, I'll take "Things Only Seese Thinks About For $200."

The other night, I was looking at my cup of yogurt. I won't name the brand, but you probably can guess. Highlighted in yellow is the proclamation, "2X the Calcium of the leading yogurt."

So they're acknowledging that they are NOT the best-selling yogurt. Why would they do that?

I have another example of product-label amusement that I'll share later.

Six Days Of Absolute Heck

For years, my friend Bill and I have had a running joke, one which really makes no sense. It went something like, "You know you've had a good weekend when you wake up wearing a nun's habit, strapped to the hood of an Isuzu Trooper doing 100 miles per hour over the I-480 bridge.

I have no idea how or why we came up with it. But it just stuck.

In April, literary agent Janet Reid had another of her 100-word short story contests.  The words were:

junk

dignity

gunbelt

hungover

punch

I managed to meld that with the Isuzu Trooper thing.

Last week, I decided to finish it an explain exactly what I was doing strapped to the hood of an Isuzu Trooper...  Below is the result. I have to admit, I'm pretty darned proud of it.

Six Days Of Absolute Heck

    I was hungover. Hell, I might have still been drunk. That rum sure packed a punch. Or maybe it was the punch, packed with rum. Maybe that’s where the term “punch-drunk” comes from. Maybe I shouldn't be so focused on etymology or what caused my current state, but rather the current state itself. What exactly was I doing wearing a nun’s habit and a gunbelt, strapped to the hood of an Isuzu Trooper doing 100 miles per hour over the I-480 bridge?
    Not again, I thought.
    Actually, it wasn’t a thought. I said it out loud, though “out loud” is relative when strapped to the hood of an Isuzu Trooper doing...well, I already covered that.
    I knew the “why” and I knew the “who.” What I wanted to know were the “what the f-” and the “where.” To the zoo? No, they already did that...was it Monday? This past week had been one long, trying, hazy blur.
    Yes, Monday was the zoo. They gave me a friar’s cut and locked me inside of the primate house. Unfortunately, it wasn’t my head which got “the treatment.” It was...um...the other end. And it wasn’t a cut. It was a Brazilian wax. Ouch-ie! I am so not looking forward to that hair growing back in. The baboons didn’t find it funny in the least.
    Tuesday was karaoke night at the Ugly Broad Saloon. I had to sing Britney Spears’s “...Baby One More Time.” Worse, I had to wear the outfit she wore in the video: the grey sweater-ette, the midriff-baring white oxford shirt, the plaid miniskirt, and the grey hose. Thank goodness I didn't have to do any corresponding costume changes; I had no idea where to find a pink jog bra. Even worse than that, I had to mimic her dance moves perfectly, or do it again. It took me three tries to get it right.
    Wednesday, I had to sit in a confessional booth, and just moan. For five minutes. They timed me.
    Thursday? Oh yeah, on Thursday I had to don full monk’s garb--but with pink pumps instead of sandals--and stand on Public Square wearing a sandwich board that read “Repent! The End Is Near!” on one side and “Kick Me!” on the other. Every 15 minutes I had to cast it aside, yell “flash mob!” and try to convince everyone around me to line-dance. And, boy, did that flannel robe really itch, especially in the certain area that was still recovering from Monday.
    But I think Friday was the worst. I spent the night in a movie theater passing a collection plate back and forth across the aisles. Had it been the local Cineplex, it wouldn’t have been so bad. But it wasn’t. Naturally, it was a theater where they showed blue movies. I don’t even want to think about what the hands that put the money into the plate had been touching before they went fishing for their change. I did manage to collect $4.52, plus 26 tokens which (I later learned) are for the private viewing booths. I sure hope I can use them at the batting cages or Chuck E. Cheese. I don’t want to have to come back here to spend them, which is one of the requirements.
    Thank goodness this is the last day. I hate “Heck Week.” Let me tell you, the seniors in seminary school can be real assholes.

Comments? Anyone? If nothing else, I'm definitely seeing another submission to Flush Fiction.

Udopia, Finis! ...

...well, sort of.

I did finish my novella-in-progress Udopia this week. Of course, "finish" is a relative term. I have gotten the storyline from point A to point Z. The reality, though, is that point Z--the ending--has been done for quite some time. So it was a matter of connecting the beginning to the ending with...that plot garbage. But I now have done that.

It's 35,100 words, certain to grow despite the fact that I need to get out my machete and hack away at the dead wood.

Now begins the arduous but exhilarating task of going back to the beginning and:

1. Actually making sure that everything is complete...that is, replacing all those SOMETHINGs that I use as placeholders with real words;
2. Making sure everything flows; and
3. Double-checking to make sure the grammar is in order.

I have just over a month until my September 15 deadline to get it into the Main Street Rag. I think I can do it. Cross your fingers. Offer some encouragement. Threaten me.

Another Bug Story...

I'm building quite a collection of "buggy" short stories. In a previous post, I offered a glimpse of "Tarantulas On Leashes." And now, "Night Lights."

    “I’d like to call to order this emergency session of the town council,” drawled Mayor Beemer. “We can all see that everyone is here, so I’ll dispense with the roll call and get right to business. As we all are well aware, the town has been taken over. And we need help. I’ve talked to our local representatives in Jackson. I’ve talked to our reps in Congress. I’ve talked to the governor. And they all say the same thing: we’re on our own.”
    That pronouncement met with a chorus of groans, followed by a cacophony of 100 voices shouting, “oh-my-ing,” and in some cases, praying. He estimated that half the town was
crammed into the tiny chamber. The mayor eyed the gavel sitting in front of him, but decided against using it. He thought he should let the townsfolk vent for a minute.
    “How could this have happened?” asked Buzz Wix, whose livelihood, the “Wix House Of Wax,” was especially imperiled.
    “To answer that question, I’ve invited Jack Pollan from the Humphreys County nature preserve. “Jack, could you shed some light on the subject?”
    After the groans of a different nature died down, the entomologist spoke. “Well, as you know, they’re usually quite docile. But it appears as though a swarm of Africanized ones have made their way up here, perhaps across the Gulf Of Mexico. They appear to have bred with some local bugs, which has produced an exceptionally aggressive strain.”
    “Damn those Mexicans,” said Buzz.
    “Now, now,” said Mayor Beemer.
    “It’s true!” Buzz continued. “Those ten-gallon hats in Texas start patrolling the Rio Grande and shoving the illegals back across. And this is how they get even.”
    “Do you really think the government of Mexico is protesting U.S. policy by launching a retaliatory bug strike?” said Mike Honeycutt, the town liberal.
    “Of course they would!”
    “You’re a dimwit!” Even though Buzz was a dimwit, whenever Honeycutt spoke out it automatically was 99 to one....

We were at a friend's house for a party this weekend. And being that he's somewhat in the boondocks, there were a lot of insects around. (In fact, the invitation included a reminder to bring Off.) So I guess that inspired me.

And, at just over 700 words, it will be short enough for Uncle John's Flush Fiction.

Mini-Rant 1

Since this is about writing and life in general, I feel I'm allowed to kvetch every once in a while ...

Today at the office, I got stuck behind someone with his nose in his Crackberry as he was walking through the halls. He turned toward the restroom--where I was heading--and stopped dead in his tracks.

I think I deserve kudos for saying, "Excuse me," instead of "HANG UP AND WALK!"

I feel better now.

Why Write Part 2

In the newspaper the other day, there was an article about actor / comedian Steve Carrell. One of the questions asked of him was when did he feel he had "made it." His answer had nothing to do with "The Office" or the "40 Year-Old Virgin."

He said he felt he had "made it" when he was able to stop waiting tables and other odd jobs, and just be an actor. I think I feel the same way about writing. Sure, it would be great to sign a multi-book, multi-million-dollar contract with a major publisher, and then have it made into a move starring Johnny Depp. (As long as I'm dreaming...)

But really, if I could earn enough writing to do only that, I would be happy. Well, happier; I'm pretty happy now. I would be able to meet the school bus every day. My wife and I wouldn't have to play rock-paper-scissors when one of the kids wakes up coughing. And I could even play hooky occasionally and just relax...or, pull out the "honey-do" list and get to work.

Whatever. It's still a goal.

Keeping It Up

No! Not like that! Get your mind out of the gutter.

A few months back, I made a vow to myself: I wanted to do two "things," every day, that were related to the world of writing. Those things could be writing my own stuff; reading someone else's stuff; blogging; reading and commenting on any of the author / agent blogs that I read; or actively looking for a publishing opportunity. You get the idea.

This past Wednesday was a good day.  I:

Wrote 760 words of Udopia.

Wrote a 100-word short story (titled No Blues) to enter into the Janet Reid contest.

Later, added to the aforementioned story, with the idea of submitting it to Uncle John's Flush Fiction.

Wrote in my blog.

Posted a comment on the Bookends blog.

Considering my busy schedule, I think that's pretty good.

Thursday wasn't quite so prolific. But still, I was able to add almost 900 words to Udopia and work on No Blues a little more. Today I wrote 700 words for Udopia, created this, and posted to my technology blog at Silicon India.

The point is, if you want to be a writer, then do SOMETHING about it. Every day.

No Blues In This Town

One of the blogs that I follow is that of literary agent Janet Reid. In addition to being a good resource for writers, it's a lot of fun. Under the category of "fun," she periodically runs a contest. Write a short story, using five specified words, in under 100 words. The latter is the challenge.

She posted just such a contest yesterday. Here are the words:

echo

fever

jelly

roll

t-bone

Here is my entry:

We stepped onto the empty stage. The echo of our footsteps suggested a beat. I sang: "When you put your arms around me. I get a fever that's so hard to bear..."

“Dynamite.”

“True that.”

Men of few words, T-Bone and Jelly Roll let their music speak for them. Tonight would be special. If only…

Backstage before the gig, we heard the knock on the door. Two men flashed badges. “Come quietly,” said one. We knew we were busted. Later, in court, we pleaded ignorance. The judge was not swayed. “You’re in Giggleswick, Massachusetts. You can’t play the blues here.”

Sorry for the late notice, but if you want to play, the contest is open until noon TOMORROW.