Kyle Michel Sullivan's Blog: https://www.myirishnovel.com/, page 221
July 21, 2015
Careful-ness...
I did a sketch this evening. Just a pen and ink, head and shoulders of a guy who could be one of my characters, nice and simple. And I liked how it turned out. The sign of a good artist is one who knows when to stop when it's right. Well...I had it right -- a nice expression, deep dark eyes, good proportion and a hint of shading...and then I added a couple bits to the mouth and now it looks like he's got herpes.
Thank god for white-out.
Thank god for white-out.
July 20, 2015
I'm Betty-fied...
My mother used to watch Ugly Betty every week and loved it. I only saw a couple of episodes and didn't get why, but I wound up with the first season's DVD set and decided to watch it ...and it's amazing. The way the show combines over-the-top humor with real-life tragedy is startling. Some of it's clumsy but when it hits, it's out of the park.
America Ferrera does well as Betty, the homely girl with adult braces and cutesy innocence who tries to do the right thing. But by working at Mode, a world where she is nothing but a joke to everyone, she's becoming someone who is adjusting her sense of morality to the real world. When she first shows up, you know she's never even lied to her father. By the end of the first season, she's dumped her boyfriend, started upgrading her wardrobe and put her family on the back burner so many times, she's become the unreliable one.
Michael Urie as Marc St. James is like her polar opposite -- super queen, super nasty, superficial to the max, and yet adorable in a way I can't quiet understand. The show gives him flashes of humanity -- like when his mother rejects him for being gay after he stands up for Betty's family -- and he's damned good at his job as Wilhelmina's assistant. Always in the moment.
Vanessa Williams kills as Wilhelmina Slater. High Queen Bitch whose life revolves around her scheming to gain control of Mode Magazine. She's verging on descending into old age, is scared underneath her gloss and glamour, and will be damned if she'l let anyone know it. She has lovers, not love.
Eric Mabius is a bit bland as Daniel Meade but is beginning to work as the younger brother who's always been dismissed as worthless. Rebecca Romajn is surprising as the transexual Alexis (a nod to Alexis Arquette, who underwent her transition as this show was just beginning to be shot?) and to be honest, 10 years ago I would not have believed a man could be made to look like her...but since Lavergne Cox did it, I'm convinced.
What startled me was the show's willingness to show tragedy along with the comedy. One character is murdered at the end of the first season, in a robbery. While in Mexico, Betty goes looking for her grandmother only to find it was not meant to be in a heartbreaking way.
I found the other three seasons on ebay and bought them. Cheap, too. Which is what I need. It's giving me ideas for my work...and affecting UG in surprising ways.
Should be interesting...
America Ferrera does well as Betty, the homely girl with adult braces and cutesy innocence who tries to do the right thing. But by working at Mode, a world where she is nothing but a joke to everyone, she's becoming someone who is adjusting her sense of morality to the real world. When she first shows up, you know she's never even lied to her father. By the end of the first season, she's dumped her boyfriend, started upgrading her wardrobe and put her family on the back burner so many times, she's become the unreliable one.
Michael Urie as Marc St. James is like her polar opposite -- super queen, super nasty, superficial to the max, and yet adorable in a way I can't quiet understand. The show gives him flashes of humanity -- like when his mother rejects him for being gay after he stands up for Betty's family -- and he's damned good at his job as Wilhelmina's assistant. Always in the moment.
Vanessa Williams kills as Wilhelmina Slater. High Queen Bitch whose life revolves around her scheming to gain control of Mode Magazine. She's verging on descending into old age, is scared underneath her gloss and glamour, and will be damned if she'l let anyone know it. She has lovers, not love.
Eric Mabius is a bit bland as Daniel Meade but is beginning to work as the younger brother who's always been dismissed as worthless. Rebecca Romajn is surprising as the transexual Alexis (a nod to Alexis Arquette, who underwent her transition as this show was just beginning to be shot?) and to be honest, 10 years ago I would not have believed a man could be made to look like her...but since Lavergne Cox did it, I'm convinced.
What startled me was the show's willingness to show tragedy along with the comedy. One character is murdered at the end of the first season, in a robbery. While in Mexico, Betty goes looking for her grandmother only to find it was not meant to be in a heartbreaking way.
I found the other three seasons on ebay and bought them. Cheap, too. Which is what I need. It's giving me ideas for my work...and affecting UG in surprising ways.
Should be interesting...
July 19, 2015
Le tortoise, c'est moi...
As I move slowly and steadily through the first draft of Underground Guy I find the story shifting in ways I don't understand, with Dev doing things that are somewhat off the wall for him. And yet, are serving to soften him a little. Why? No idea.
But he mentions how he helped his nephews fight back against a bully by showing them some less than proper wrestling moves. And they used them. And got the bully to back down. Mom wasn't happy about the less-than-legal part but still got the hint and enrolled the kids in Aikido so they could learn self-control...and be able to defend themselves.
Then when Diana, the boys' mother and Dev's sister-in-law, confronts him in his London hotel room...he acts more like a teenager who got caught taking the family car without permission than a man who's committed several felonies and faces years in prison. He even refers to an expression she gives him as "having her mommy eyes on stun."
I think Diana scares him a little...which could be fun to play with. She really is like a mother, knowing all and not letting her kids get away with any bullshit. My grandmother was like that. She always seemed to know when any of us had tried to pull a fast one.
There was one occasion where a cousin and I spent the last of our money on a packet of cigarettes and had to walk from downtown San Antonio to her place because we didn't have bus fare. It was only 5 miles and we did it in just over an hour. We thought we were so clever; no one would ever know. Next morning, first question she asked was, "How was your walk?" I never found out how she knew.
What I did find out was I can't smoke. When I try, my voice vanishes. Not as I'm smoking but shortly thereafter. I think the only time I ever had a cigarette and enjoyed it without that happening was when we wrapped the hideous shoot of Wilderness Rule, in Houston. My script. The director's money. Total fuck up, from beginning to end.
I was with a couple of cute guys named Sean and Shane, not related, who acted in the film. We drove from the location to a crewmember's apartment at top speed singing Bohemian Rhapsody because it had a lovely lyric about killing a man and we were contemplating homicide. We drank beer after beer, and since we were in a room of smokers, I smoked a couple cigs. Since it was such an emotionally fraught time, I didn't even think about the voice thing...but I was pretty much fine the next day. Probably because my throat was lubricated with Heineken.
The movie was never finished. Mostly because I tried to please everybody and wound up pleasing no one, especially myself. It left a mark on me. If you ever want to know why I'm locked into second-guessing myself, this project explains it. I refer to it as my Mark of Cain.
Maybe I should change my name to that...
But he mentions how he helped his nephews fight back against a bully by showing them some less than proper wrestling moves. And they used them. And got the bully to back down. Mom wasn't happy about the less-than-legal part but still got the hint and enrolled the kids in Aikido so they could learn self-control...and be able to defend themselves.
Then when Diana, the boys' mother and Dev's sister-in-law, confronts him in his London hotel room...he acts more like a teenager who got caught taking the family car without permission than a man who's committed several felonies and faces years in prison. He even refers to an expression she gives him as "having her mommy eyes on stun."
I think Diana scares him a little...which could be fun to play with. She really is like a mother, knowing all and not letting her kids get away with any bullshit. My grandmother was like that. She always seemed to know when any of us had tried to pull a fast one.
There was one occasion where a cousin and I spent the last of our money on a packet of cigarettes and had to walk from downtown San Antonio to her place because we didn't have bus fare. It was only 5 miles and we did it in just over an hour. We thought we were so clever; no one would ever know. Next morning, first question she asked was, "How was your walk?" I never found out how she knew.
What I did find out was I can't smoke. When I try, my voice vanishes. Not as I'm smoking but shortly thereafter. I think the only time I ever had a cigarette and enjoyed it without that happening was when we wrapped the hideous shoot of Wilderness Rule, in Houston. My script. The director's money. Total fuck up, from beginning to end.
I was with a couple of cute guys named Sean and Shane, not related, who acted in the film. We drove from the location to a crewmember's apartment at top speed singing Bohemian Rhapsody because it had a lovely lyric about killing a man and we were contemplating homicide. We drank beer after beer, and since we were in a room of smokers, I smoked a couple cigs. Since it was such an emotionally fraught time, I didn't even think about the voice thing...but I was pretty much fine the next day. Probably because my throat was lubricated with Heineken.
The movie was never finished. Mostly because I tried to please everybody and wound up pleasing no one, especially myself. It left a mark on me. If you ever want to know why I'm locked into second-guessing myself, this project explains it. I refer to it as my Mark of Cain.
Maybe I should change my name to that...
July 18, 2015
Damn you, Bugs Bunny!
He let me down!
July 17, 2015
Brain slipped for tortal fun...
This is probably how I'd handle taking care of a tortoise. Them things is party reptiles, they is.
Except I'd never let him near piss-water like Coors. Guinness or, if a lighter brew is wanted, Amstel only. With cheese sticks and marinara sauce...lots of it...
I do not condone the use of drugs in any way, form, or fashion and had no idea he'd be dumb enough to take a selfie doing it...
Bastard caught on to what I do when I'm not working or writing, but if he thinks he can blackmail me -- HA! Got him right back...
No where's that friggin' hare so I can send them out on a race and test my theory that the old tale about the tortoise and the hare is really just good PR work from tortal's people?
Except I'd never let him near piss-water like Coors. Guinness or, if a lighter brew is wanted, Amstel only. With cheese sticks and marinara sauce...lots of it... 
I do not condone the use of drugs in any way, form, or fashion and had no idea he'd be dumb enough to take a selfie doing it...
Bastard caught on to what I do when I'm not working or writing, but if he thinks he can blackmail me -- HA! Got him right back...No where's that friggin' hare so I can send them out on a race and test my theory that the old tale about the tortoise and the hare is really just good PR work from tortal's people?
July 16, 2015
Okay, I've lost my mind...
I keep thinking about turning Carli's Kills into a black comedy...which is crazy as hell. I can do black, it's comedy I'm crap at. I don't have the timing for it. Or something. I dunno. But no matter how hard I try to focus on Underground Guy, which doesn't even begin to want to be funny...except in those moments needed to leaven the suspense and drama...I can't drop thoughts about CK.
Dammit.
I've begun to wonder if I ever had any control over my brain. I've always been the type who goes from moment to moment assuming everything will be okay and never really been able to plan for the future. Wrong -- I do plan, I just don't follow through with them. I'll start then get side-tracked and forget where I was and have to start over again, albeit from a different place.
A coworker of mine is one of those people who can plan her life down to the minute and do it. Keep every one of them. If she's going to be someplace at 3:15, she's there. If she has twenty minutes to cut her lawn, it's cut. She's a whirling dervish at logistics while I'm a slug. I can pack books really well, but handle detail work? Fuhgeddaboudit...
The only thing I'm consistent about is dreaming.
Dammit.
I've begun to wonder if I ever had any control over my brain. I've always been the type who goes from moment to moment assuming everything will be okay and never really been able to plan for the future. Wrong -- I do plan, I just don't follow through with them. I'll start then get side-tracked and forget where I was and have to start over again, albeit from a different place.
A coworker of mine is one of those people who can plan her life down to the minute and do it. Keep every one of them. If she's going to be someplace at 3:15, she's there. If she has twenty minutes to cut her lawn, it's cut. She's a whirling dervish at logistics while I'm a slug. I can pack books really well, but handle detail work? Fuhgeddaboudit...
The only thing I'm consistent about is dreaming.
July 15, 2015
Meandering...
As I've focused on UG, Carli's been rearranging the furniture of her life in my head. She's decided to be older, more focused, and Cara's her daughter from a rape when she was 14. Nothing went right for the girl and she wound up being raped and slipping into suicide because Carli wasn't there to help her. Mom feels guilt and is taking it out on the men who drove her daughter to her death. It's going to be mean...and maybe all told from Carli's POV. Dunno about that, yet...but it'll be like the anti-Gray's 50 shades crap.
UG is too vague for me to figure out. Things seem to be happening because they have to happen for the book to work. Dev raping a man who happens to be an undercover cop while the man who may actually be a serial killer was on the underground car, too...and Dev connects with him later. It's like a gay white porno telenovela. Without the heaving breasts and catfights. Dammit. Maybe I should throw one in. I think I'm taking my work far too seriously.
It's all really a joke, life is. The fates make fun of everyone behind their backs...and sometimes to their faces. They've been having fun with me since I was 12, and it took me a LONG time to finally see that. I wonder if you can make a comedy out of a serial-killer story? I had a hard time with the shifts in An American Werewolf in London...but maybe that's me being too upset at the idea a fictional character I like is going to be slaughtered.
I hate killing off my characters. I know it's needed. At times. And it's not real. Basically. But I still hate doing it. Maybe it's time for me to stop acting like I'm Tolstoy and think more along the lines of Charlie Chaplin, in City Lights.
This movie is very funny throughout, as the Little Tramp does everything he can to help a poor blind girl regain her sight. She thinks he's a rich man, until she finally sees him, for the first time. And you know she's rejecting him.
You laugh until it breaks your heart...
UG is too vague for me to figure out. Things seem to be happening because they have to happen for the book to work. Dev raping a man who happens to be an undercover cop while the man who may actually be a serial killer was on the underground car, too...and Dev connects with him later. It's like a gay white porno telenovela. Without the heaving breasts and catfights. Dammit. Maybe I should throw one in. I think I'm taking my work far too seriously.
It's all really a joke, life is. The fates make fun of everyone behind their backs...and sometimes to their faces. They've been having fun with me since I was 12, and it took me a LONG time to finally see that. I wonder if you can make a comedy out of a serial-killer story? I had a hard time with the shifts in An American Werewolf in London...but maybe that's me being too upset at the idea a fictional character I like is going to be slaughtered.
I hate killing off my characters. I know it's needed. At times. And it's not real. Basically. But I still hate doing it. Maybe it's time for me to stop acting like I'm Tolstoy and think more along the lines of Charlie Chaplin, in City Lights.This movie is very funny throughout, as the Little Tramp does everything he can to help a poor blind girl regain her sight. She thinks he's a rich man, until she finally sees him, for the first time. And you know she's rejecting him.
You laugh until it breaks your heart...
July 14, 2015
Not sure where this fits in yet...
I worked on this, this evening. On the slight side but I have a feeling it's helping Dev change his character's DNA.
-------------------------------
I was still drying off when I came out of the bathroom. Tawfi held up a pair of his white Armani briefs. "To wear home."
"Just to my hotel..."
He shrugged. "A well-groomed man should always have something between him and his suit. Otherwise he is nothing but a beast dressed in human clothing. Besides, I did tear yours."
"I've torn some of my own. Never paid for 'em...except once."
"Oh? Have you stories to tell?"
"Not really. Not something you'd want to hear." I held the briefs up. "Jockeys don't cost anywhere near this much."
He just smiled. I slipped them on, and even snug they felt like silk caressing my skin. He turned me around and smoothed them over my ass then wrapped himself around me, from behind. Held me close. Nuzzled the nape of my neck.
I chuckled. "Careful, you'll get something going."
"Next time," he whispered. "I snuck three more pair into your sample case. Wear them in remembrance of me."
"Tawfi..."
"Devlin, in my country it is considered rude to refuse a gift. Please don't insult me."
"Yes, sir."
"Thank you." Then he rested his head on my left shoulder. "Thank you." He kept holding me, silent for a moment. Finally he sighed, "Martin would accept nothing I gave him. He didn't refuse any of them; he merely hid them in a desk drawer. I discovered them by accident. I asked him about it, the last time I saw him. He told me his company was having difficulties and his wife would wonder how he could afford such nice things. A Polo shirt is a nice thing? A Dior belt? I was so very angry." He took in a deep breath. "I am the reason we did not see each other, again. It took me three weeks to accept the truth of him. He had a wife. Children. And he was frightened he might lose them." He let out a long sigh. "I suppose he is no longer afraid."
I held his arms tight against me. "I understand him."
"You? What have you ever been fearful of?"
"My father, for most of my life. Until I stood up to him. I came home from school. College. He was upset about something or other; doesn't matter what, he was always pissed off. He tried to sling me around and...I dropped and rolled him over my back into the couch. Broke the coffee table. Startled the shit out of the son-of-a-bitch. He looked at me like he didn't know me. I didn't say anything; I just left. That was the night he died...and the night I stopped being afraid. Till now."
"What brought fear back to you?"
"You. The last few days."
He turned me to him. "How do you mean?"
"Nothin'. Things've happened that...that got me wondering if I'm just a beast in a nice suit."
He smiled and picked up my jacket. "An adequate suit. If you want a nice one, we should visit a tailor I know."
"I wear what I can afford, Tawfi. Briefs like these...they cost more than most of my pants."
He leaned against a canopy post, wary. "Are you rejecting my offering?"
"No. I know my manners. But please don't give me any more. I...I might grow to like them, too much."
A hint of confusion filled his eyes as his smile crossed his face. "As you wish."
"And I'm buyin' dinner, next time," I said as I pulled on my pants.
"That will be a novelty. I always pay the tab."
"So do I."
-------------------------------
I was still drying off when I came out of the bathroom. Tawfi held up a pair of his white Armani briefs. "To wear home."
"Just to my hotel..."
He shrugged. "A well-groomed man should always have something between him and his suit. Otherwise he is nothing but a beast dressed in human clothing. Besides, I did tear yours."
"I've torn some of my own. Never paid for 'em...except once."
"Oh? Have you stories to tell?"
"Not really. Not something you'd want to hear." I held the briefs up. "Jockeys don't cost anywhere near this much."
He just smiled. I slipped them on, and even snug they felt like silk caressing my skin. He turned me around and smoothed them over my ass then wrapped himself around me, from behind. Held me close. Nuzzled the nape of my neck.
I chuckled. "Careful, you'll get something going."
"Next time," he whispered. "I snuck three more pair into your sample case. Wear them in remembrance of me."
"Tawfi..."
"Devlin, in my country it is considered rude to refuse a gift. Please don't insult me."
"Yes, sir."
"Thank you." Then he rested his head on my left shoulder. "Thank you." He kept holding me, silent for a moment. Finally he sighed, "Martin would accept nothing I gave him. He didn't refuse any of them; he merely hid them in a desk drawer. I discovered them by accident. I asked him about it, the last time I saw him. He told me his company was having difficulties and his wife would wonder how he could afford such nice things. A Polo shirt is a nice thing? A Dior belt? I was so very angry." He took in a deep breath. "I am the reason we did not see each other, again. It took me three weeks to accept the truth of him. He had a wife. Children. And he was frightened he might lose them." He let out a long sigh. "I suppose he is no longer afraid."
I held his arms tight against me. "I understand him."
"You? What have you ever been fearful of?"
"My father, for most of my life. Until I stood up to him. I came home from school. College. He was upset about something or other; doesn't matter what, he was always pissed off. He tried to sling me around and...I dropped and rolled him over my back into the couch. Broke the coffee table. Startled the shit out of the son-of-a-bitch. He looked at me like he didn't know me. I didn't say anything; I just left. That was the night he died...and the night I stopped being afraid. Till now."
"What brought fear back to you?"
"You. The last few days."
He turned me to him. "How do you mean?"
"Nothin'. Things've happened that...that got me wondering if I'm just a beast in a nice suit."
He smiled and picked up my jacket. "An adequate suit. If you want a nice one, we should visit a tailor I know."
"I wear what I can afford, Tawfi. Briefs like these...they cost more than most of my pants."
He leaned against a canopy post, wary. "Are you rejecting my offering?"
"No. I know my manners. But please don't give me any more. I...I might grow to like them, too much."
A hint of confusion filled his eyes as his smile crossed his face. "As you wish."
"And I'm buyin' dinner, next time," I said as I pulled on my pants.
"That will be a novelty. I always pay the tab."
"So do I."
July 12, 2015
A bit more of Underground Guy...
Dev has been released by the cops. He's back at his hotel and has stepped out to get some copies made when he decided to pick up a man he knew would be interested in having some fun -- Tafiq (AKA: Tawfi), whose profile was sharp and clean, with dark hair, a goatee, and golden tanned skin...not to mention a nice tight build and wearing a Saville Row suite (very expensive). This is after they've had their fun in Dev's hotel room, and Dev's remembering as he walks back to his hotel from Hatton Cross Station. Tawfi speaks cultured British.
__________________
Normally I'm the first guy out of bed and into the bathroom. Instead, Tawfi had rolled onto his feet and taken a quick shower...as I spied on him...and sketched him, something I never did with my conquests, even though I felt more like I'm the one who was conquered. He hadn't noticed me sitting on the toilet till he was done and grabbed a towel.
"Have you been watching me this whole time?" he asked.
I nodded and showed him the sketch. Nothing lewd about it. Just from the chest up, water pouring over his head and face and chest in a way that was brutally erotic. Quick and simple.
He'd hesitated before he said, "You did that as I washed?"
I'd shrugged. "Just a quickie for our quickies."
He'd smiled and I'd melted. "You're quite good..."
"It helps with the job I'm in. You want it?"
A look of near surprise had come over his face and he'd nodded. "Thank you."
"I'll put it by your suit jacket."
He'd finished toweling off and come into the room to dress. "Do you design all of your pins?"
"Naw, I just clean 'em up. Sketches like this are just for fun."
"You're better than that." I'd grinned and sat on the bed to gaze at him. He'd looked at me. "Devlin, what're you doing?"
"Watchin' you dress."
He'd chuckled. "Shall I do a reverse of the dance of the seven veils?" Then he'd held his Armanis up to his nose and wriggled about and turned to pull them on and I'd nearly lost all control. I'd pulled him onto the bed with me and laid him beside me and kissed him.
"Wish you could stay the night," had whispered from me.
His elegant fingers had caressed my chin as he'd said, "Next time, perhaps."
I'd dressed and accompanied him to the Hatton Cross Station and waited till he'd vanished. Now I was headed back.
I'd thought about having a meal at the hotel's restaurant but it was too overpriced so I'd bought a sandwich at the station and just returned to my room, remembering every moment of being with Tawfi and feeling a bit disloyal to Reg. Which was crazy as hell. Master Thornton probably hated my guts for what I'd done to him, and I didn't blame him. So there was no chance in hell anything more could happen between us. But with Tawfi, I wanted a lot more to happen...even forever.
No way in hell that was gonna happen, either.
I was on the fifth floor but facing the wrong way from the airport. I liked seeing the planes going and coming, especially at night; it helped me zone so I could easily get to sleep, but I had a feeling I wouldn't have that problem, tonight. Tawfi had been the perfect snack to keep the chaos at bay.
I rode up alone and there was no one else in the corridor as I walked down it. I got to my door and unlocked it and entered and got slammed from behind. My high-school wrestling moves kicked in and I threw someone against the bed but they bounced back to their feet and a searing pain ripped into my left arm and I cried out and crashed against the dresser and caught the slightest glimpse of someone rushing from the room. That's when I found a nasty gash in my forearm was bleeding everywhere. I grabbed Tawfi's still wet towel and wrapped it around me then called the front desk.
Son-of-a-bitch, I'd been mugged...
__________________
Normally I'm the first guy out of bed and into the bathroom. Instead, Tawfi had rolled onto his feet and taken a quick shower...as I spied on him...and sketched him, something I never did with my conquests, even though I felt more like I'm the one who was conquered. He hadn't noticed me sitting on the toilet till he was done and grabbed a towel.
"Have you been watching me this whole time?" he asked.
I nodded and showed him the sketch. Nothing lewd about it. Just from the chest up, water pouring over his head and face and chest in a way that was brutally erotic. Quick and simple.
He'd hesitated before he said, "You did that as I washed?"
I'd shrugged. "Just a quickie for our quickies."
He'd smiled and I'd melted. "You're quite good..."
"It helps with the job I'm in. You want it?"
A look of near surprise had come over his face and he'd nodded. "Thank you."
"I'll put it by your suit jacket."
He'd finished toweling off and come into the room to dress. "Do you design all of your pins?"
"Naw, I just clean 'em up. Sketches like this are just for fun."
"You're better than that." I'd grinned and sat on the bed to gaze at him. He'd looked at me. "Devlin, what're you doing?"
"Watchin' you dress."
He'd chuckled. "Shall I do a reverse of the dance of the seven veils?" Then he'd held his Armanis up to his nose and wriggled about and turned to pull them on and I'd nearly lost all control. I'd pulled him onto the bed with me and laid him beside me and kissed him.
"Wish you could stay the night," had whispered from me.
His elegant fingers had caressed my chin as he'd said, "Next time, perhaps."
I'd dressed and accompanied him to the Hatton Cross Station and waited till he'd vanished. Now I was headed back.
I'd thought about having a meal at the hotel's restaurant but it was too overpriced so I'd bought a sandwich at the station and just returned to my room, remembering every moment of being with Tawfi and feeling a bit disloyal to Reg. Which was crazy as hell. Master Thornton probably hated my guts for what I'd done to him, and I didn't blame him. So there was no chance in hell anything more could happen between us. But with Tawfi, I wanted a lot more to happen...even forever.
No way in hell that was gonna happen, either.
I was on the fifth floor but facing the wrong way from the airport. I liked seeing the planes going and coming, especially at night; it helped me zone so I could easily get to sleep, but I had a feeling I wouldn't have that problem, tonight. Tawfi had been the perfect snack to keep the chaos at bay.
I rode up alone and there was no one else in the corridor as I walked down it. I got to my door and unlocked it and entered and got slammed from behind. My high-school wrestling moves kicked in and I threw someone against the bed but they bounced back to their feet and a searing pain ripped into my left arm and I cried out and crashed against the dresser and caught the slightest glimpse of someone rushing from the room. That's when I found a nasty gash in my forearm was bleeding everywhere. I grabbed Tawfi's still wet towel and wrapped it around me then called the front desk.
Son-of-a-bitch, I'd been mugged...
July 11, 2015
Much better...
I've rearranged the first pages, cutting them down by 15 and adding in some bits and foreshadowing. I'm now at 113 pages and just over 27,000 words. This will not be one of my opuses; I think it'll top out at about 65,000, which should work out to about 175 pages in book form. You never know...I may get an attack of the Tolstoys and go nuts, again, but it's a fairly simple story about a man facing the truth of himself and growing from that understanding. With lots of sex, involved, of course.
The outline is helping me keep track of everything, fortunately. And I've changed some names and locations. I was never completely thrilled about having the opening take place in West Hounslow, but shifting it two stops back to East Hounslow worked wonderfully as regards logistics and detail.
I desperately want to head back to London for a few days to check some things out for UG and MFD, but unless we get a job from a client that requires it, ain't gonna happen. I can't afford it on my own.
This one job I thought might work out is being driven by a man who doesn't want to follow the law, as regards exporting from the UK, so we had to turn him down. No way in hell are we flouting customs requirements; there's too much else that's too important.
I rather like having a 3-day weekend. I'm going to see if I can figure out some way of making this happen more...meaning get my bills paid off and taxes under control. That will not be easy, considering my spending habits. The only reason I didn't spend any money today was I didn't leave the apartment. Felt good staying in...
Hmm...I wonder if I'm becoming a bit agoraphobic? Probably not. I entered a competition that would send me to London to see One Direction. I could live with that; while 3 of the boys are not at all interesting to me, I do think Liam's a doll.
And I definitely feel like a dirty old man saying it.
The outline is helping me keep track of everything, fortunately. And I've changed some names and locations. I was never completely thrilled about having the opening take place in West Hounslow, but shifting it two stops back to East Hounslow worked wonderfully as regards logistics and detail.
I desperately want to head back to London for a few days to check some things out for UG and MFD, but unless we get a job from a client that requires it, ain't gonna happen. I can't afford it on my own.
This one job I thought might work out is being driven by a man who doesn't want to follow the law, as regards exporting from the UK, so we had to turn him down. No way in hell are we flouting customs requirements; there's too much else that's too important.
I rather like having a 3-day weekend. I'm going to see if I can figure out some way of making this happen more...meaning get my bills paid off and taxes under control. That will not be easy, considering my spending habits. The only reason I didn't spend any money today was I didn't leave the apartment. Felt good staying in...Hmm...I wonder if I'm becoming a bit agoraphobic? Probably not. I entered a competition that would send me to London to see One Direction. I could live with that; while 3 of the boys are not at all interesting to me, I do think Liam's a doll.
And I definitely feel like a dirty old man saying it.
