Wednesday, July 9, 2014

The Boat That Didn't Materialize.

The boat seems to scream its distrust as they pulled their kayak close it. He knew, if he’d thought about it, that the hundred year old derelict was settling its old iron bones into the river silt, but the adrenaline rush of actually being there hampered his rational mind, and let his fanciful reptilian brain take charge.


“I heard it was a pirate ship,” Trajan’s utterance pulled him out of his internalized trance. While he’d heard the same rumor, he knew there had never been pirates on the Ohio River. Trajan owned the kayak and was easily offended so he knew he needed to gently let him down.
“Maybe, but the guy at the library said it was an old transport ship.”
“So, why’d it end up here,” Trajan queried?

“He said a tug company was so supposed to haul it off for salvage, but the line broke during a storm -- they lost it. He figured it must have drifted around for a few years and eventually washed ashore, but he couldn't be sure”

They secured their rope to the bow of the iron hulk.

“I guess we’ll know for sure once we get in there, Trajan.” A quick tug on the rope let them know it was secure, and then they carefully tied their kayak to the other end. Suddenly the hatch on the deck or the derelict hissed open and two ghastly mugs with machine guns burst out spraying the younger Kayakers with a plethora of other worldly bullets-- their boyhood journey came to a sudden end.

I read somewhere that some famous writer said, “if you’re ever stuck in a scene simply have two mugs burst through the door with machine guns, and now you have an ending.”
 I want to credit the tongue in cheek idea to Raymond Chandler, but the internet takes away as easily as it gives and I can’t find the idea anywhere. So, to avoid plagiarism or worse yet unknowingly steeling some one’s brilliance I have to credit the mugs with guns to someone else.
I have always been a writer from inspiration, only writing when my muse is hot, which is probably why I only have a few publications and two uncompleted novels.

 I’m trying an experiment, taking my own advice, and setting time every day to write. To write mostly shit, but write none the less.  Sometimes I may wind up with a good start or maybe even a good story, but mostly I think mugs with machine guns will burst in to get y out of a boring story.




Wednesday, June 11, 2014

Why I Read My Horoscope

I find myself reading my horoscope every day. I 'm not sure why. I can vaguely link It to some Jungian idea of accessing the collective, but more readily I the think of The Man in the High Castle by Phillip K DIck. There was a character that drew I Ching straws everyday.

 The idea fascinates me. Are the people who really do live by some novelty oracle? Ages ago things made sense, but today?  There is a romanticism in the mystic. The ability to control your fate with herbs, or chants, cards is a very seductive idea, especially  in a world where it's hard to control anything else.

Jung somehow makes it feel more scientific, and still romantic. Through some device we can acces the collective and get glimpse into some other, a  super humanistic mind.  Also a seductive idea, that in a world of uncertainty we can tap into truth from beyond.

I'm fairly certain I don' ascribe to either of these ideas, yet I read my horoscope daily. Why?

Because I'm enough of a romantic to want the explanations to be true.