Missing in Venice

A large ocean liner leaves from its port in Istanbul, going to dock its cargo in Croatia. The large hull of cargo is held in the lower decks, while the upper decks are empty, aside from a few passenger compartments for the Captain and his crew. While sailing off the coast of Greece, a storm starts to move in from the south. The waves batter the ship, tossing it side to side. The cargo inside is beaten down, smashing pianos and furniture into thousands of pieces of ornate wood chips. The waves are high enough to wash up onto the deck and rush past the ship crew. One compartment can't stand the pressure of the waves and caves in, sending water rushing inside. The pieces of cargo that remain are sent out to sea, constantly bashed and beaten by waves. An alarm sounds in the ship, and the captain has the twenty ton compartment doors close off, allowing the ship to stabilize. The waves continue all night, not strong enough to break the hull again, but too strong to control the direction of the ship. A mayday signal is sent out, but the navigation isn't working, and no signal is found, leaving the crew by themselves.

The next morning, the ship has made it far off course. The navigation system is up again, and shows the ship cruising off the Italian coast. The ship is back in control, yet can't seem to escape a pull towards land. Unknown to the crew, the storm hit Italy as well, and has caused flooding. The hollow land around the coast isn't able to support the water, and has caved in, sending millions of gallons of water rushing to fill the space. The ship is locked in an inescapable tug, and is sent rushing through the water between the outer islands. In the distance, a city appears to float on water. The ship is no longer being pulled into the sink hole, but the momentum that has built is too great, and the ship refuses to stop, and is moving towards a canal. The Captain tries to divert the ship the best he can, but even with her mighty engines in reverse, the ocean liner was pulled further and further into the canal. It hits hard, the bow of the ship crashes head on into a small bridge, and takes out a building next to a small market stand. The force of the crash pushes a wave of water through the canals and sends the gondolas flying into the streets. It finally stops, parked at the intersection of a damaged chapel, and sunken houses.

The people of Venice step out of their houses to a grim sight. The beautiful city they've always known -the sight of hundreds of years of history, is gone in an instant. The rattled crew make their way outside to the city below. A damaged ship, an eyesore on what was one of the most beautiful cities in the world, lies before everyone. After a few weeks, it's found that the ship can't be removed, it has ruined the foundation for half the city, and if moved, will send the centuries old houses, shops and churches into the ocean. Over the years, the people have reluctantly grown fond of this boat, fixing it up, and decorating it to fit in with the look of the city. They know, whether they like it or not, this ship is the only think keeping this city alive.

End of Summer

On a humid Sunday afternoon, the stale air refuses to move, and the heat builds up. Along the coast of Florida, sits an affluent neighborhood. The residents include a well off newlwed couple, a husband and wife going through marriage problems and a wealthy family from Russia staying at their beach house. In the distance off the coast, the sky is dark, and ominous. This paradise is about to be shaken to the core. Although the scene around the neighborhood is menacing, no one takes notice. The first couple, the newlyweds, have spent the whole day painting their new house and moving in furniture. The honeymoon phase is ongoing, and nothing can seem to part the two. The problem plagued married couple have spent most of the morning arguing, and now sit and wait in silence as they wait for their marriage counselor. The Russian family have spent the whole day packing up, it's the last day of their trip, and the plane to back to Moscow leaves at 7:30. Outside, the rain starts to fall, not out of the norm for a Florida coastal town, and the rain thins the air. The breeze picks up as a strong line of wind passes over. The palm trees sway and seagulls and pelicans take off. The thunder arrives with booming force over the area, and lightning strikes randomly at sea. By now, all the families have taken notice to the storm, nothing but a "rainy afternoon" in their minds. The rest of the street that was quiet at the beginning of the day is now busy with cars of families leaving with their belongings. By now, the paint is dry, the counselor is a no show, and all the bags are packed. In the distance, a small wave gathers up steam and rolls toward land. The newlyweds decide after a long day working, it's time to go out to dinner. The bickering couple leave in hopes of finding their counselor, and their money... and the visiting family leave for the airport. That small wave in the distance has become a twenty foot tall wall of water, and crashes into the beach. It sweeps past the high swaying palms and the expensive sports cars and into the neighborhood. Gone are the mailboxes and street lights, the fresh cut grass and fresh painted walls. This end of summer storm rids of the old, and brings in the new.

Blackout Poem

Favorite Quotes

19"People who think they know everything are a great annoyance to those of us who do."

-Isaac Asimov

"My grandmother started walking five miles a day when she was sixty. She's ninety-seven now, and we don't know where the hell she is."

-Ellen DeGeneres

"Housework can't kill you, but why take the chance?"

-Phyllis Diller

"There cannot be a crisis this week. My schedule is already full."

-Henry Kissinger

"It is a scientific fact that your body will not absorb cholesterol if you take it from another person's plate."

-Dave Barry

"I like a woman with a head on her shoulders. I hate necks."

-Steve Martin

"All the candy corn that was ever made was made in 1911"

-Lewis Black

"If you live to be one hundred, you've got it made. Very few people die past that age."

-George Burns

Famous Lines Story

The sky above the port was the color of television, tuned to a dead channel. The pelicans dip into the port in search of fish. The town along the coast is quiet, only the sound of a passing car every few minutes. The broken lighthouse, now useless in the coming fog, sounds to alert the town of an incoming barge. The local shops are open, but with little foot traffic coming through the town. The only visible movement is a man in a tan colored jacket walking out of a diner and toward the harbor pier. The fog is pretty thick and the sun has start to set. The funeral is almost over, before long the people will be back in town. The man takes out the raft he hid under the dinghy. By now the investigation should have enough leads, and reasonable information to come after him. His time in the town is done, likely overstaying his welcome, and leaving just in time. The sun light that made it through the fog is now gone, the raft and oars are ready. He hops from the dock and onto the raft, and starts out for the next sleepy town. He was soon borne away by the waves and lost in darkness and distance.

Memorable Passage

 

Santa and the Reindeer

 

"This is about the hour," said Santa Clause

"The bells ring merrily."

Then on his back he slung his pack

And into the sleigh climbed he.

 

"On, Dancer! On, Prancer! On, Donner and Blitzen!

On, Comet and Cupid!" cried he.

And all the reindeers leaped but one,

And that one stood silently.

 

He had pulled the sleigh for a thousand years,

And never a word spoke he.

Now he stood in the snow, and he whispered low-

"Oh what do you have for me?"

 

"I have games and toys for girls and boys."

Said Santa cheerily.

The reindeer stood as if made of wood-

"But what do you have for me?"

 

"The socks are hung, the bells are rung!"

Cried Santa desperately.

The reindeer winked at a falling star-

"But what do you have for me?"

 

Then Santa reached into his beard,

And he found a tiny flea.

And he put it into the reindeer's ear,

And the reindeer said, "For me? Oh gee!"

 

And into the blue away they flew,

Away they flew with the flea.

And the moral of this yuletide tale

You know as well as me.

 

 

When I was little, I read through most of the stories in Where the Sidewalk Ends, but I think most of the time- if someone wasn't reading it to me- I was more interested in the pictures than the stories. There are several dozen stories in the book, but this one, along with a few others, is one I remember most. I'm sure that when I was little I knew what a flea was, but I don't know that I quite understood the ending. Being older now, it's interesting to go back to things you knew as a little kid, and understand the actual meaning behind things you never gave a second thought to. Plus, it's a story about Santa Claus, and what little kid doesn't like Santa?

Famous Lines from Famous Books

"The sky above the port was the color of television, tuned to a dead channel."

This is the opening line to the novel Neuromancer, published in 1984 by William Gibson (1948-present). He also wrote the novels; Spook Country and Zero History. Neuromancer is a cyberpunk novel set in a dystopian Japanese world. The main character, Henry Dorsett Case, is a computer hacker whose nervous system is connected to a virtual reality world known as the matrix. After his employer catches him stealing, he is poisoned breaking his connection to the matrix. Drug-addicted and suicidal, Henry begins seeking a cure through illegal “black clinics.”

I think I might read this book. It seems like a different story, and set in a dystopian society, which are usually pretty interesting.



"He was soon borne away by the waves and lost in darkness and distance"

This is the closing line to the novel Frankenstein , published in 1818 by Mary Shelley (1797-1851). She also wrote the novels; Mathilda and The Last Man. Dr. Victor Frankenstein speands months putting together a preson out of old body parts. One night in his apartment, he brings him to life. After seeing the creature that has been made, he is terrified, and knows he will have to get rid of the monster.

Frankenstein is a classic novel, and I've actually never read it before. I think now would probably be as good a time as any to read it. It's original and for the time, very different.

Writers as Readers

When I write, I need to be somewhere relaxing. Usually, I’m sitting on my bed when I write, but sometimes if the house is quiet, I’ll move into the living room and sit on the couch. If there’s too much noise, I can’t keep my focus at all. If the TV is on… I end up watching it, and doing my writing on commercials. It’s not the best strategy to write, but at least it still gets done. Writing in classrooms can be difficult, it’s quiet, but not always that comfortable of a place to get something done.

I wouldn’t say I prefer one genre over another, as long as it keeps my attention. I know some books like Harry Potter won’t interest me, just because I have no fascination with magic or British people. Not saying they’re bad books, but I couldn’t imagine sitting down to read a book that’s inches thick about something I don’t care about, similar to a history or chemistry book. One “genre”, that interests me, if it’s even a genre, is the dystopian societies. Books like the Hunger Games -which I didn’t expect to enjoy as much as I did- really kept me drawn in because of the storyline that can be weaved in with the dystopia. It’s just interesting to see how life would function if we lived in a different world.

Like in my last post, the Hunger Games is the only book in recent memory that was a real page turner. I got the first book done in about a week and a half, I liked it, and decided to read the next book. I bought it, and finished it in a day and a half, then went to the third book, and finished it in about the same time. I can usually bring myself to reading a book all the way, even if I’m not interested, but some books do the opposite. I feel bad saying it, but Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn were two of the books that I really couldn’t bring myself to reading without a lot of will power. If the language was different, and maybe the setting, I could do it, but that would end up just ruining the book.

I think books have to power to make people see things in a different light, in a way they wouldn’t have looked at before, and I would say they can make people interested in things they’ve never thought of, but not until they’ve actually read it. I haven’t read Harry Potter, but I don’t think the author wrote it for the purpose of starting some big debate about the occult. Some people like to find a problem where a problem really doesn’t exist. Even if some people did see it as a problem, they’re not fixing it by putting it out in the open like they did, I would think doing that would make more people go away from the message they want to put out.

I don’t write with the reader in mind, I write what I think, and leave it to the people to decide if they like what I wrote. If they did, they stay, if they didn’t, they leave. But an actual author would probably need to tailor it to the reader. A children’s author shouldn’t be using long complicated words from Shakespeare, and an adult novel writer shouldn’t be writing like Dr. Seuss. I suppose it comes down to what you intend to write. Some books can span all ages, interesting people young and old, sometimes with the intention of only getting one type of people.

I think many of the best writers are people who read often. They know the style they want to pursue, how to arrange words in an order that is pleasing to hear, they have a stronger vocabulary to add more emotion to their piece. People who read often can see the patterns that make a good book. They’ve read so many books, they can take bits and pieces of one book, with pieces of several others, and create a book unlike any other book out there. They know how to place different pieces in to make it something memorable.

Writers Dreaming

I couldn’t live for five years without talking. I don’t talk a lot, except with people I know. I understand about hearing more when you don’t talk. In a lot of the classes I’ve had, the people around me always want to talk, and tend to reveal more than they should about themselves when they start. Afterwards, they know nothing about me, while I know them like I’ve written their biography. I see the positive side to not talking much, but for five years with no talking, I guess I don’t understand how that would work. At some point, I think she would have to talk to someone, even if it’s about what she wants for dinner, but it appears she didn’t.

I would really like to be able to speak more than one language. Right now, I’m comfortable with Spanish, and I think if I went to Mexico or Spain, I would be able to do fairly well for myself, but there’s still more to learn and I’d really like to become fluent. I think if I learned another language, I would want to learn one similar to Spanish, like Portuguese or Italian, or one similar to English, like Dutch or German. Living in America, English will likely be enough for most people. In cities like Los Angeles or El Paso where there are a lot of immigrants, it would be useful to know more than just language. In somewhere like New York, who knows how many languages you could hear in one day. It all comes down to where you live and what’s necessary to know.

I can remember a lot of events in my life, a good portion of them pretty clearly, but I would never say I have total recall. Some events like Christmas or birthdays have clearer memories, but most of the rest are just average. I can remember happy events just as clearly as sad or embarrassing events, unless it’s too bad and my memory has just blocked it out of my mind.  My family and I will talk about some memory, and I’ll bring up one that they’ve either forgotten, or have no memory of happening, and the same happens to me.  If it was me, having all my lifetime of memories stored would fill up my head and make me crazy, I don’t know how some people can handle it.

I would believe that after a certain age it becomes hard to learn new things, but I would just say it’s harder, not impossible.  It seems rare for people later in life to learn a new language, or go back to school so they can get a career in a different field.  It all comes down to what is needed, if something is so important that you just have to learn it, you will continue at it regardless of what you have to do. I think people who are older are more likely to  go all in on something different than young people, just because the world keeps changing, and everyone has to adapt.

Dream Threads

Back to School

I have a reoccurring dream that I'll only have one time a year. It's a dream about going back to school. Every dream is a little different, but they always follow the same pattern. I show up at school on the first day, thinking everything is going fine. When I get inside the school, I realize I don't have my schedule. I go to one of the office workers and tell them I never recieved my schedule, but they tell me there's nothing they can do about it, that I'll have to figure it out on my own. So the first class starts and I don't know where to go, so I just start walking around the school, until some teacher stops me and asks me why I'm not in class. I tell them the school can't find my schedule and I don't know where to go. We usually end up in some argument, and it ends with me telling them that they're lucky I even stayed in the building, because I didn't even want to come on the first day. I wouldn't say it's much of a dream, but it's not a nightmare either, it's more of an annoyance when I'm trying to enjoy my summer




The Substitute

It was a normal day of school, a very cloudy and rainy day at that. I walk into my first class, chemistry. Almost everyone was already there exept a few kids whose bus was late. Normally, the teacher is already there, but one of the office secretaries says the teacher can't make it, so we have a substitute. But it wasn't just any substitute, it was the worst substitute. One whose eyes glowed red with anger, whose voice made your hair stand on end. The one with the murderous temper and evil gril. A shadow is casted of a figure outside of our door, moving our way. It just keeps getting closer.

Color

 

Summer Green

The seasonal palm grows freely

The bright yellow green leaves house the abundant life the the landscape

The sun shines down brightly on the tropical seaside palms and newly harvested plantains

Newly cut grass in the park that gives the scent of the freshest summer field

In the distant mountain of New Aspen, the lively bright colors of the coast fade into oak and pine

At the lake, with lily pads and cat's tails, there is an essence of spring willow

And here I sit, with my lemonade with misted pale mint, and watch the bright summer colors of nature.



Behind the Red Door

Behind the vibrant red door, lives a British family, newly arrived from London. The father, Walter Reginald Thomas Stuckup III is a businessman whose company opened a new office in America. He was asked to head up the office by his boss, Chester P. Poopode. Walter's wive, Matilda, is a lonely alcoholic who refuses to get a job and spends her day drinking and sleeping. Their son, George, is a homely cricket player who has a hard time making friends and often has violent panic attacks when scared. Their daughter, Lucy, is a spoiled brat who likes to bash her head into windows when she doesn't get her way. Arthur, their dog, is a St. Bernard with worms who often scoots his butt on the white carpet. The family is close to self-destruction and they often fight eachother in the dining room. Aside from fighting, you can find the family doing their favorite hobbies, including drinking tea, bowing to a cardboard cut out of the queen, and going several weeks without brushing their teeth.


Dreaming in Color

Overall, I would say the world has changed for the better from fifty years ago, but at the same time, I likely don't have the same view as someone who sees the other side. Today, it seems like blacks and whites can walk down the street, and no one thinks anything of it. It could be that no one really thinks much about it, or that some people just don't say anything. As much as I'd like to think racism is gone, I know it still exists to an extent everywhere. I would hope that by the time I'm my grandparent's age, it's not still seen as an issue.