Saturday, February 24, 2007
just a start...
Dan spilled coffee down the entire front of his shirt because he was watching a dog take a crap on his front lawn while he was drinking.
Saturday, February 10, 2007
Charles - substory to Petro...
This is only par... very rough... needs retouching and continuation... the only part I like is the last paragraph :) lol
Charles was homeless. He could call himself "vagrant" or "without home" or some shit like that, but that wasn't Charles. Charles knew where he sat and it was nowhere near where he started. People on the street didn't meet his stare, didn't shake his hand... didn't solicit; even friendliness. They stared... oh how their stares burned through him but they never saw him. They saw every homeless person they had ever seen and they reveled in it.
There was something special about Charles "Chuck". He was homeless in Chicago. What this meant was one of three things. One. He didn't take the free ride to somewhere warm to be the same, or worse. Two. He didn't seek home or "shelter" somewhere warm like a shelter or public walkway... even the subways or buses, bars or strip joints. He seriously had no home. Nothing. Not a drop of warmth all winter long provided by a furnace or fire.
Life was simple. Summer was a time for making money, raising funds for food and starving. Winter (the second of a two-season year) was for staying warm, eating hot food and feeding his dog. Had he thought of eating the dog? Endlessly. If he kills the dog, he gets one full night of sleep next to it's warm innards and then frozen meat to cook for weeks. Months if he had the stomach.
He named his dog "Winter" for the same reason he got the dog. A huge fur impenetrable coat for him and the dog to share meant warmth every night till he shuffled off the mortal canine coil. A huge furball laying with him meant automatic protection from other vagabonds, canine and yuppies.
Winter was a Rhodesian Ridgeback with a touch of Huskie. This dog was big. About the size of a standard German Shepard and the coat of a lab. A deep orange-red and a willingness to bear its teeth at a shrub. Chuck had trained the bastard to eat anything. This dog was survival. And survive it did.
A child laughed at Chuck and he had to hold the dog back. A dog barked at Chuck and Winter slaughtered him. "Shame we can't eat him" Chuck had thought after the kill, not "how will I payback the owner" because it wasn't his fault. The other owner's dog was aggressive and not Winter.
blah blah... then.
Chuck could see in everyone's houses as he and Winter roamed the streets at night. It was just him, his dog and a few cars sharing the road. Everyone else sat inside their warm houses, huddled around the televisions and keeping the lights on in the house. All he could see was waste. Now and then he would see someone was doing laundry and the heat from the dryer was just blowing out the side of the house! He ran to the heat and cuddled in it's warmth only to freeze shortly after when the cold froze the moisture that had gathered on his chest.
Charles was homeless. He could call himself "vagrant" or "without home" or some shit like that, but that wasn't Charles. Charles knew where he sat and it was nowhere near where he started. People on the street didn't meet his stare, didn't shake his hand... didn't solicit; even friendliness. They stared... oh how their stares burned through him but they never saw him. They saw every homeless person they had ever seen and they reveled in it.
There was something special about Charles "Chuck". He was homeless in Chicago. What this meant was one of three things. One. He didn't take the free ride to somewhere warm to be the same, or worse. Two. He didn't seek home or "shelter" somewhere warm like a shelter or public walkway... even the subways or buses, bars or strip joints. He seriously had no home. Nothing. Not a drop of warmth all winter long provided by a furnace or fire.
Life was simple. Summer was a time for making money, raising funds for food and starving. Winter (the second of a two-season year) was for staying warm, eating hot food and feeding his dog. Had he thought of eating the dog? Endlessly. If he kills the dog, he gets one full night of sleep next to it's warm innards and then frozen meat to cook for weeks. Months if he had the stomach.
He named his dog "Winter" for the same reason he got the dog. A huge fur impenetrable coat for him and the dog to share meant warmth every night till he shuffled off the mortal canine coil. A huge furball laying with him meant automatic protection from other vagabonds, canine and yuppies.
Winter was a Rhodesian Ridgeback with a touch of Huskie. This dog was big. About the size of a standard German Shepard and the coat of a lab. A deep orange-red and a willingness to bear its teeth at a shrub. Chuck had trained the bastard to eat anything. This dog was survival. And survive it did.
A child laughed at Chuck and he had to hold the dog back. A dog barked at Chuck and Winter slaughtered him. "Shame we can't eat him" Chuck had thought after the kill, not "how will I payback the owner" because it wasn't his fault. The other owner's dog was aggressive and not Winter.
blah blah... then.
Chuck could see in everyone's houses as he and Winter roamed the streets at night. It was just him, his dog and a few cars sharing the road. Everyone else sat inside their warm houses, huddled around the televisions and keeping the lights on in the house. All he could see was waste. Now and then he would see someone was doing laundry and the heat from the dryer was just blowing out the side of the house! He ran to the heat and cuddled in it's warmth only to freeze shortly after when the cold froze the moisture that had gathered on his chest.
Monday, February 5, 2007
...cont...
He fell instantly asleep. Like many people, Cartwright had been shocked to realize that we were at war with unknown forces... sure we didn't have a "totalitarian" government per se, but big government thought we did. They kept their secrets inside the country, and everyone else's outside the country.
Cartwright like most his friends, most of his family, used the television as a pacifier. "When I'm off work, I want to be soothed..." he said to his wife one day as he grabbed a beer and couched. Silvia clutched her newspaper, cringed, and returned to the comics section.
What people like Cartwright and suburban Joe, their family and friends didn't realize... is that their patriotic nature, their "numbness" is what was hurting the nation. Much like the media who decided to hide the fact that we were at war with unknown forces, these people were killing the country from the inside.
(next)
"Patriotic power will end..." Ino listened to his radio blare when he switched it on, accidentally turning the volume up too high. They had to use radios, television was the enemy now. "A new era is coming where our oil exports are more valuable to our country, than every other aspect combined. This is, for our citizens, the most important and rudimentary task. Keep the oil safe, keep us safe." Ino didn't know it now, but that statement would be more important than he could possibly fathom. In a quick decision by Ino's leaders they had not only built up their army ten-fold but had quickly realized why they were so prone to invasion.
The facts of the matter were thus: China had the oil, they found their sources mostly offshore, but the real reserves were already pumped up, placed in manmade dredges and were being tanked to hidden locations twenty-four seven. The discovery had been made about five years prior that they were going to be a world power, by their oil reserves, and they had cheap labor. These two factors combined created a super-power in the energy crisis. China had wise leaders. Those leaders scrupled and scrimped to gain every inch of power they could out of every drop of oil they could. These very same leaders had a great sense of world-awareness. They knew they could build, and they did.
First came the massive rewards. The Chinese government held a massive auction for over fifteen billion "barrels" of crude oil that were already floating on ships, ready to be delivered. They had predicted that the U.S. would outbid everyone, and they were right. After quick delivery, they rewarded their citizens, they rewarded the oil workers, they rewarded themselves. In that order.
Next came the planning. They knew they had to build up a quick way to protect their oil reserves while protecting themselves. The base salary of an army lieutenant skyrocketed. Suddenly, China had a more powerful army than any other country.
And Oil.
Cartwright like most his friends, most of his family, used the television as a pacifier. "When I'm off work, I want to be soothed..." he said to his wife one day as he grabbed a beer and couched. Silvia clutched her newspaper, cringed, and returned to the comics section.
What people like Cartwright and suburban Joe, their family and friends didn't realize... is that their patriotic nature, their "numbness" is what was hurting the nation. Much like the media who decided to hide the fact that we were at war with unknown forces, these people were killing the country from the inside.
(next)
"Patriotic power will end..." Ino listened to his radio blare when he switched it on, accidentally turning the volume up too high. They had to use radios, television was the enemy now. "A new era is coming where our oil exports are more valuable to our country, than every other aspect combined. This is, for our citizens, the most important and rudimentary task. Keep the oil safe, keep us safe." Ino didn't know it now, but that statement would be more important than he could possibly fathom. In a quick decision by Ino's leaders they had not only built up their army ten-fold but had quickly realized why they were so prone to invasion.
The facts of the matter were thus: China had the oil, they found their sources mostly offshore, but the real reserves were already pumped up, placed in manmade dredges and were being tanked to hidden locations twenty-four seven. The discovery had been made about five years prior that they were going to be a world power, by their oil reserves, and they had cheap labor. These two factors combined created a super-power in the energy crisis. China had wise leaders. Those leaders scrupled and scrimped to gain every inch of power they could out of every drop of oil they could. These very same leaders had a great sense of world-awareness. They knew they could build, and they did.
First came the massive rewards. The Chinese government held a massive auction for over fifteen billion "barrels" of crude oil that were already floating on ships, ready to be delivered. They had predicted that the U.S. would outbid everyone, and they were right. After quick delivery, they rewarded their citizens, they rewarded the oil workers, they rewarded themselves. In that order.
Next came the planning. They knew they had to build up a quick way to protect their oil reserves while protecting themselves. The base salary of an army lieutenant skyrocketed. Suddenly, China had a more powerful army than any other country.
And Oil.
Friday, January 26, 2007
(...cont)
cut that last paragraph out and stick it way at the end or in the middle for a plot change...
Cartwright wandered the halls of the courthouse for days on end. There wasn't anything to accomplish, he was just doing his job. Protect the local government, downsize the threat. On a minuscule level they had no chance against attackers, the federal government was unreachable... impervious... or so the public thought.
"Step down" the page yelled at him while he daydreamed... he didn't even notice he had raised his gun... raising alarm in the vicinity. He lowered his gun and blushed sheepishly... he was there to keep the peace, not disturb it... he would surely be disciplined for this, and all because his mind wanders. He radioed in to his relief for a break and sat in the hall, gun tucked between his knees and his chest.
(...cont...)
Cartwright wandered the halls of the courthouse for days on end. There wasn't anything to accomplish, he was just doing his job. Protect the local government, downsize the threat. On a minuscule level they had no chance against attackers, the federal government was unreachable... impervious... or so the public thought.
"Step down" the page yelled at him while he daydreamed... he didn't even notice he had raised his gun... raising alarm in the vicinity. He lowered his gun and blushed sheepishly... he was there to keep the peace, not disturb it... he would surely be disciplined for this, and all because his mind wanders. He radioed in to his relief for a break and sat in the hall, gun tucked between his knees and his chest.
(...cont...)
Sunday, January 21, 2007
The petro wars
Just sketching out some ideas I've had for Sci-Fi... since my reading tastes are starting to follow that trend, so should my writing?
----------------------------------------------
It wasn't a war. That's what every American believed, every television watching drone of the "democracy" was given excuses for what was happening, the shortage of fruit, the airlines being "on strike" all the bullshit. And the news stations, instead of doing what is constitutionally protected to them (freedom of speech) decided to flood the public with numbing information.
Then the spy drones started falling. Then the bombers starting falling from the sky. The satellites came down like rain. When the first passenger airliner landed in downtown New York; the result of a missile from an enemy plane, the public recoiled.
There were skeptics still, and people had not planned on waking from their media induced stupor... there was panic. The government wasn't concerned with peace within it's own borders anymore and hadn't planned for the chaos. All our resources were abroad, getting killed... and for what?
Oil.
In 2012 a gallon of 80 octane fuel cost nearly twenty dollars, if you could find it. The hippies knew what to do. They knew in their hearts what they needed to do. They conserved, they rationed, for them it was as life hadn't changed... it was just harder to travel long distances. For Joe Suburban, life was eradicated. If you can't drive to work, you can't work. If you can't work, how do you pay your pool boy?
The truth of the matter was this: self-interested government topples the country. We wanted oil and we didn't have it. Instead of increasing our exports and keeping friends with the countries who did, we invaded. We took before asking, and much like the child reaching for the big kid's desert, we got hit. As it turned out, the countries with oil were concerned with peace inside their countries and they were ready.
(more to come)
----------------------------------------------
It wasn't a war. That's what every American believed, every television watching drone of the "democracy" was given excuses for what was happening, the shortage of fruit, the airlines being "on strike" all the bullshit. And the news stations, instead of doing what is constitutionally protected to them (freedom of speech) decided to flood the public with numbing information.
Then the spy drones started falling. Then the bombers starting falling from the sky. The satellites came down like rain. When the first passenger airliner landed in downtown New York; the result of a missile from an enemy plane, the public recoiled.
There were skeptics still, and people had not planned on waking from their media induced stupor... there was panic. The government wasn't concerned with peace within it's own borders anymore and hadn't planned for the chaos. All our resources were abroad, getting killed... and for what?
Oil.
In 2012 a gallon of 80 octane fuel cost nearly twenty dollars, if you could find it. The hippies knew what to do. They knew in their hearts what they needed to do. They conserved, they rationed, for them it was as life hadn't changed... it was just harder to travel long distances. For Joe Suburban, life was eradicated. If you can't drive to work, you can't work. If you can't work, how do you pay your pool boy?
The truth of the matter was this: self-interested government topples the country. We wanted oil and we didn't have it. Instead of increasing our exports and keeping friends with the countries who did, we invaded. We took before asking, and much like the child reaching for the big kid's desert, we got hit. As it turned out, the countries with oil were concerned with peace inside their countries and they were ready.
(more to come)
Thursday, January 18, 2007
Tuesday, January 2, 2007
"Hold... me close and hold me fast..." Louis Armstrong's recognizable voice pours over the audiophile's speakers annunciating each scratch of the record, every nuance goes unscathed; perfectly pronounced at exactly twice the volume of the original recording.
The next song on the list is a real dark one, "Piano Concerto No. 2. In A: Adagio Sostenuto Assa" a piece by Sviatoslav Richter. He cranks it up as high as the amplifier allows.
The third selection is the winner, "So What'cha Want?" composer: The Beastie Boys. The goosebumps ride his spine from bottom to top and nearly raise every hair on this head as he jumps hard up and down on the floor.
The next song on the list is a real dark one, "Piano Concerto No. 2. In A: Adagio Sostenuto Assa" a piece by Sviatoslav Richter. He cranks it up as high as the amplifier allows.
The third selection is the winner, "So What'cha Want?" composer: The Beastie Boys. The goosebumps ride his spine from bottom to top and nearly raise every hair on this head as he jumps hard up and down on the floor.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
