Travis Besecker's Blog: Apocalypse Coming, page 37
April 7, 2012
I can't explain to you guys how much I love seeing you...
I can't explain to you guys how much I love seeing you flaunt your books!
Thank you to @uniglittertits for this one! One of the funniest, sassiest, sexiest, goofiest women keeping Twitter relevant and entertaining.
April 6, 2012
It's Friday again
I'm giving away a signed copy of "Lost in Infinity" each and every Friday until people are no longer interested or "Harnessing the Spark" is released.
If you want one, here's what you have to do:
1) You MUST be following me at @FinallyHeSleeps on Twitter
2) Your MUST RT this tweet on your timeline or this post on your Blog
3) send a reply on Twitter telling me why you want or need a signed copy of the book.
That's it. Nothing else. You can do it all week long if you like. I'll keep track and decide each Friday night. I'll do it every week until people stop asking for copies.
Good luck.
April 5, 2012
Harnessing the Spark - #36 (Chapter 18)
Harnessing the Spark - #36 (Chapter 18)Installment #36 of the on-going online ZOMBIE APOCALYPSE horror novel
CHAPTER 18 (part 1)
Alex was waiting impatiently just inside the cabin's screen door when our ATV's pulled back up out front. She opened the door but was knocked out of the way by an escaping Dexter, hellbent on being the first to welcome us back. Nick turned off the four-wheeler and whispered over his shoulder, "You ok, sis?"
I sat up, my cheek numb where it had been resting on the seam of his shirt. "I'm fine. I just need to lie down I think." I took a moment to gather myself and started to swing my leg up and around the fender before the dizziness snatched me up.
"Hold still, Elphie! Let me help you." Dave jogged the last few steps and grabbed my forearm, likely keeping me from face-planting into the gravel.
"What happened?" Alex asked frantically. "Who's hurt?"
"Elphie hit her head. She's fine though." Nick took my other arm and helped Dave get me up to the cabin. "Can you get the door?" he asked Alex as she just stood and stared at me through pain filled eyes.
"She did that 'I'm fast as fuck' thing again too. It was even worse this time though." Jo walked up the stairs behind me, dusting her hands off on the front of her jeans. "She even threw up just like before."
"Elphie?" Alex asked. "What's going on with you girl?" She brushed the flyaway bangs out of my eyes as the boys let me slump into the padded chair by the front desk. Alex leaned onto the armrest and continued to pet my red hair. "Someone tell me exactly what happened."
Dave began. "Everything went fine until one of the things saw Elphie out an emergency exit and crashed through to get to her. We couldn't see it from the front or back entrance because it was obscured by a book case. By the time we got to her, she was wrestling with a few. When she fell…"
"I hit my head," I interrupted. "That's all. I bumped my head on a big fucking rock OUCH!" I touched the back of my head and winced. "Dave and Nick finished the zombies off before I was bit."
"Where the fuck were you while all of this was going on?" Alex turned on Jo.
"Hold your horses sister. I was on the roof, firing through the skylight." Jo reached across the counter for a green apple sitting atop a wooden fruit bowl. She looked it over, rubbed it on her shirt and took a loud bite. "Where's my brother by the way?" she asked through a mouthful of apple.
"He's curled up on a cot in the other room." Alex smiled at me, then turned back to face Jo. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to jump down your throat."
"It's fine. I understand. You don't know me and you sure as hell don't trust me." Jo crunched the apple yet again. Her stoney face gave away no emotion which was borderline creepy.
I closed my eyes and tried not to focus on the spinning sensation overwhelming me from the core. I turned sideways in the chair and planted my foot on the wall which helped. I felt Alex hug me tight as she slipped into the chair beside me before I drifted off to sleep.
next installment coming soon…
If you've missed any earlier parts, they're available here
I fell in love with Elphaba Thropp
I've posted this before on the other blog, but felt it necessary to post here as well…
I fell in love with Elphaba Thropp. I didn't mean to or want to, it just happened.
About 10 years ago I was traveling for work and ran into a girl I had went to college with. She's a fellow Designer and we've always been really close, especially in taste. We had lunch and ended up discussing movies (always ends up there with me) and music, and eventually books. I read a lot. I'll read anything too. Everything from "Water for Elephants" to "World War Z" to H.P. Lovecraft to the Bible (I also watch Fox News… can't argue if you don't understand both sides of the argument right?). She had just finished "Wicked" by Gregory Maguire and was pretty adamant that I read it. In fact, she left lunch, bought a copy of the book and tracked me down to give it to me before I left town.
That was it, I was obligated to read it. I started the book on the plane, but it put me right to sleep. Slow as dirt and I just couldn't get into the characters. Anyone who knows me, knows I'm cursed with the inability to quit. Anything. I can't quit. Fucking anything. With that spelled out, I had to finish the book. After a week at home, I picked the book back up. I reluctantly finished it within the week.
After getting through it, for some reason, I got a little depressed. I kept going back to specific parts of the book in my head. Trying to remember exactly what happened and why. I found myself asking people who had read it if they remembered, but no one could answer my specific inquiries. I couldn't let it rest, so I picked it back up and started reading it a second time.
This time I couldn't put it down. Could not. Would not.
I finished it a second time over the weekend. Insomnia has it's perks. This time, I read it thoroughly, paying attention to the characters, the nuances of the plot and the development of the story as it paralleled The Wizard of Oz.
And Elphaba.
Up until this point, I'd never been so invested in a single character in any book I'd ever read that I felt that if I read it again, maybe something would change. Maybe I missed something and there was a happy story there that I just wasn't able to pull out. Within 6 months, I ended up reading the entire book four full times. Each and every time, I fell a little more in love with Elphaba.
I'm drawn to tragic, fucked up souls. Broken, downtrodden, in need of fixing kind of people. The emotionally destroyed or handicapped… this is my crowd. I'm also an emotional sponge of sorts, sucking up their sorrow and eating it as if it's my own. It's taxing… it's exhausting, but it's what I am and at this point in my life, it's easier to run with it than it is to avoid it. Elphaba is the perfect metaphor for this attraction. A horribly disturbing childhood complete with a drug addicted adulteress mother who came from wealth only to end up in squalor. The father, blinded by religion and disgust for the daughter he feels is the manifestation of the punishment for all his sins as a man of faith. The siblings who she must both take care of and hide within their shadows. Oh, and she's fucking green.
The story takes her from birth through death and all the train wreck that lies between. Love, life and the complete disregard for her own happiness. Despite all this, I fell in love.
Skip to 2011, and I've read the book at least 15 times. At any given moment, about six months pass, and I'm like a secret CIA assassin reaching for his copy of "Catcher in the Rye". I'm a total fanboy. I've bought the book at least a dozen times for friends and relatives.
No one ever reads it on my recommendation.
My sister did get to see it in New York in the Musical form and she fell in love with it on the stage. She agreed to read the book if I went with her to see the play. I go to a reasonable amount of plays and musicals as well, so this wasn't out of the question. Last year, my sister seized the opportunity and took my mother and I to see "Wicked".
I was kind of excited. One of my favorite books in live form? Awesome right? Donna Vivino was playing Elphaba and from what I had read prior to the performance, she was stellar in her portrayal. Color me double pumped.
Finally, the day arrived. My excitement was at its peak… it was also short lived.
By the end of the first act, I was nauseous. It was NOT tragic. It was NOT heart breaking. It WAS fucking "Grease". I felt betrayed. I found myself sitting through intermission trying to pull myself together. It's just a musical. Get a grip.
By the beginning of the second act, I was full on crying. By the end of the performance, I felt like I was drawing a crowd. I'm a little bitch when it comes to stuff like this so fuck you for judging me. When I get involved in something, I give everything. I hold nothing back. If you're one of those people who suppress your emotions because you're afraid of what someone else might say or think, you're doing life wrong. Seriously. What's the point?
Back to my tears… I'm talking 5 year old girl watching her pet bunny get torn to shreds by the neighbor's Rottweiler crylng. Donna Vivino was amazing. Her vocal performance was breathtaking. I tried to enjoy it, I really did. I promise.
But alas, I'd rather've been ass-raped with a bowling pin, lube-free, than sit through the entire musical. Seeing as I was with my sister who really wanted me to see it and enjoy it as she had, I stomached the monstrosity to the best of my ability.
I left the theater physically ill. Physically fucking ill.
Total truth, sitting through that musical is one of the worst moments of my life. If I could take it back, I would. For three hours I watched an entire audience blindly enjoy my beloved Elphaba turned into a comedic circus monkey, organ grinder in hand, tipping her fez for treats, coming of age and cracking quips about being green. Fuck you. Fuck every single one of you who enjoyed that horrible piece of shit.
FUCK. YOU.
If I'd have known what they were doing to my Elphaba, I would have stayed home. I'd have kept my love affair tragic, dark and full of despair with a heavy dose of heartbreak.
I'd also like to point out this was the last Musical I have ever attended. Will ever attend. AND, given the opportunity, I'd unleash ebola on the set of "Glee" out of pure principle.
EPILOGUE:
If you've seen the Musical "Wicked", but never read the book "Wicked", don't. And don't ever speak to me about it. Ever. Just don't.
If you've read the book, but never seen the Musical, DON'T YOU FUCKING DARE
did you know?
an excerpt from "Lost in Infinity"
I haven't posted an except in a while so here goes…
"Hurry up and finish your Cheerios, Mr. Wick is going to be ready soon." My mother flitted about the kitchen like a moth fighting for purchase on a porch light. "You still need to brush your teeth!"
Today was my first day of Bible Camp. My mother's church was offering the service for two weeks, in the heat of July, without air conditioning. Most governments would have considered this cruel and unusual punishment. I hopped down from the table and proceeded to get ready. My mother had laid out my clothes last night flat on my bedroom floor. She apparently wanted me to appear as though someone responsible had dressed me. Button up shirt and khaki pants. Did she not realize that I'd be melting by mid morning? I looked at the silk-screened Yoda t-shirt and striped shorts sitting on my chair with longing and dismay. Reluctantly, I chose my battle wisely and buttoned up the plaid dress shirt with a sigh.
I'd never attended church before that day. My mother went regularly, but I had always been permitted to stay home with my father instead. The last few weeks I'd been asking questions that my mother could not answer. Questions like, "How can there be a God and your religion be right if there are lots of religions? Is everyone else wrong?" and "How do you know there is a heaven? Just because someone tells you to jump off of a bridge, you don't have to do it." She wasn't very happy with me. My father had found it funny. She did not. After a few weeks of badgering her without remorse, she took up the quandary with her pastor. He was the one who had suggested she spring for enrollment in the Bible Camp. He assured her that all of my questions could be answered by studying the good word of the Holy Bible.
Before this day I had been fascinated with Chaos Theory. I was convinced that each and every action undertaken by each and every person had repercussions felt across the span of human kind. A boy in Guatemala eats a corn taco and a bird in Phoenix flies directly into a window. There must be a greater connection between all living things than just the random collision of molecules resulting in an acceptable collage of life. Like ripples in a lake, each initial change in condition affects every wave that the initial wave touches, changing each wave each changed wave touches, and so on and so on. Chaotic systems cannot be determined or predicted but they can be manipulated. Making changes in your life that you would normally not make can change everything for everyone.
I began to make changes to my behavior on purpose just to change the course of human kind. I began second guessing every action for fear of how it would affect the rest of the world. From this obsession I began to concern myself with faith and religion. My mother's beliefs contradicted the mathematical validity of quantum chaos. Faith in a greater good allowed her to believe that everything happened for a reason. By this measure, when I decided to throw away my peanut butter sandwich, even though I was still hungry, the decision was not my own. That decision was either already made as a part of my destiny or the outcome of such decision did not affect the greater good so it was rendered moot. My decision did not affect the rest of mankind, only my own hunger two hours later.
There were too many factors in life. Too many beliefs and structures of thought for any one person to be more correct than the next. More and more I realized that all religious beliefs were nothing more than an answer to whatever question plagued people. They became for most a crutch. I was expected to accept one and move on. The questions I had been asking would all be answered as soon as I accepted a larger notion and allowed it to trickle down as truth. I ask a lot of questions. It's in my nature. Accepting something without proof is not.
A few hours later, I found myself in the basement of the church, huddled around a long table with a dozen other five to eight year olds. The ceiling was incredibly low in the basement room. I noticed that the teacher's hair was charged with static and magnetically clinging to the low tiles as she walked up and down the length of our table, passing out stickers as we colored our pages with pictures of our family and the church.
"And who is in that picture with you?" she asked as she passed behind me. She was already moving on to the next student when I answered.
"That's me with Jesus and Buddha." She paused, hearing what I said, but not hearing at the same time. The day came to an end and I headed through the parking lot toward my mother's LTD Station Wagon with a piece of paper clutched in my hand.
"What is that? Did you have fun?" my mother asked as I approached the car with my six-year-old neighbor in tow.
"This is my homework. I need help looking up all of these passages in the Bible when we get home." I wasn't happy about the homework.
"Did you get lots of homework too, Joshua?" my mother asked my neighbor as we got into the car.
"Nope, just Travis. He made Miss Embry mad. She said he asks too many questions." Joshua was a little tattle telling pain in my ass.
"I did not. She just wasn't smart enough to answer the few questions I did ask."
"What kinds of questions did you ask?" My mother already sounded defensive.
"Normal stuff, like why are Christian's right and Muslim's wrong? Why do Adam and Eve have belly buttons in our coloring book if God created them? THEN, she was very upset that I colored Jesus brown. I don't even want to talk about that." My mother just looked at me in the rear view mirror, visibly distraught at my first day experience.
That night we spent what felt like a lifetime looking up each verse in the Bible suggested by Miss Embry. My mother attempted to explain what each one meant to me but it was painfully obvious that she was half confused herself. Eventually we both opted for a break and a "do you understand?" followed by, "Sure" and a sigh. Homework complete.
The next day, I presented my paper, signed by my mother, to Miss Embry. "Were you and your mom able to shed some light on those blasphemous questions?" she asked.
"Nope. There are no answers in this book." I took my seat after I handed her the paper I'd filled out explaining what I'd read in each suggested verse.
She took the paper, looked it over briefly and chose to carry on class rather than address my continued quizzical comments. Instead of engaging me in a heated debate over every question I brought to the table, Miss Embry chose to ignore my raised hand. I held it higher. She continued to ignore. I added "Miss Embry! Miss Embry! Miss Embry!" to each raised hand. She continued to ignore.
The day concluded so far out of her control that she left twenty minutes before the end of class. The study was resumed by my mother's pastor, who spent the final moments discussing with us the importance of good manners and knowing our place with Miss Embry. As parents arrived to pick up their little ones, I was held back. "I need to speak with your mother." I was then sent out to the car to retrieve my mom. This couldn't be good. Joshua and I, as per yesterday, jumped into the back of the car, except this time, to wait for my mother's return.
Twenty minutes passed before my mom silently slid back into the front seat. We drove straight home, bypassing the Dairy Barn where lunch had been promised. Joshua and I protested, but my mother continued her homeward course unabashed by our whining.
When my mother and I walked into the house, I was asked to take a seat at the kitchen table. After a few minutes, my mother came in and the interrogation began.
"Are you trying to embarrass me?" she asked in a voice laden with accusation.
"No. What did I do?" I was dumbfounded.
"I was asked not to bring you back tomorrow." She sat down across from me at the booth my family used as a kitchen table. I must have smiled because her voice climbed an octave in disgust, "That's exactly what you wanted, isn't it?"
I stopped. I knew when it was best to just keep my mouth shut. No matter how I answered at this point, my mother was determined to make this my fault. There was no point in arguing. I may as well let her punch herself out.
"Answer me," she continued. "No, don't answer that. I don't want to know. I just hope you realize how this makes me look. I went to the pastor seeking help and you made me out to be the fool."
Still I sat silent. "Just look innocent," I thought to myself.
"Nothing? You have nothing to say?" She tapped her foot for a heartbeat. "No, I don't want to hear it. Do you know what the pastor told me? He said that you were going out of your way to upset Miss Embry by asking her blasphemous questions and ridiculing her as being naïve and unintelligent because she was unable… nay, UNWILLING to give you an answer that you couldn't argue about. I know you're skeptical, Travis, and smart… but this was about good manners and being polite. One day you'll learn when being right is not as important as being kind." She huffed and walked out of the kitchen leaving me sitting alone at the tiny laminated table contemplating what I'd done.
I never returned to Bible Camp. I never returned to the church in any capacity in fact. Not until my uncle was married years later, did I even break the threshold of a building of worship. My mother has always blamed it on my need to ask questions rather than have faith. I'd like to blame it on Miss Embry for being a self-righteous jackass unwilling to mix it up with a kindergartener.
My bestest friend set up a facebook fan page for me!
You should check it out!
http://www.facebook.com/apocalypsecoming
Thanks Pixie!
confession… I don't do the facebook thing. I'm not allowed. Don't ask. You're stuck with me here and on Twitter.
High School photo Circa 1990 for Throwback Thursday
I was 13 and...
High School photo Circa 1990 for Throwback Thursday
I was 13 and yes, that's a mullet.
April 4, 2012
Apocalypse Coming
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