Tim Wheat's Blog, page 2
August 13, 2014
Wanna help a friend?
I have friends, and there is a decent chance they are your friends as well, who could use some help. Their daughter, Luna, was diagnosed in utero with down's syndrome and atrioventricular canal defect. What that means is that her tiny heart formed without ventricular walls which allowed oxygenated and deoxygenated blood to get all mashed up together, delivering an improper amount of oxygen to the blood cells that need it. It is fixable, and thankfully on July 10th Luna's surgery went well and her heart defect fixed. As any of you parents can understand this was a trying time for the family. They missed a lot of work to care for their daughter and I can't even fathom the emotional toll.
I tried to embed a facebook video here, but squarespace won't let me, which is annoying. You can check out the video I wished to embed and meet Dan, Jessica, Lyla, and Luna right here. https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?v=10152254381211752
Anyway, Dutch Bros. Coffee of Colorado Springs is having a day for Luna and her family and donating $2 from every coffee sold. I was inspired by Dutch Bros. coffee's generosity to my friends and since we don't have those in Illinois, I decided maybe I could use this week's blog in a similar manner.
So, what I'm going to do is place Rex Chase: A Novel, and all of my previous music albums right here for digital download. They are $6.99 a piece and $5 from every sale goes to Luna and her family. I'll leave the links active for the week, so tell all your friends, get a book or some music and help a beautiful little girl and her family. Thanks!
sale
Rex Chase: A Novel PDF via Digital Delivery
6.99 14.99
Add To Cart
sale
Absolute Zero: Volume ONE
6.99 9.99
Add to Cart
sale
Counterstrike: Damaged
6.99 9.99
Add to Cart
sale
Anarchosis: Shed Your Skin
6.99 9.99
Add to Cart
Pre-orders for The Sentinel continue in the shop section. If you order the hardback you get an instant PDF download of the book!
Remember, if you like the blog you can hit the subscribe via email button which is right above the comment box if you click on comment. Then you'll always know when I've posted! Also, I appreciate it when you share on facebook/twitter and the like. It only takes a second using the share button or icons above. Wanna help fund the printing of The Sentinel? Hit the donate button below! Wanna fund it by buying a signed paperback or hardback? Those are linked right here too! Oh yeah. FREE SHIPPING in the lower 48! Thanks!
August 6, 2014
The Sentinel: September 26th, 2014
The Sentinel comes out September 26th, 2014. I am doing the hardback rollout a little bit different than I did the last book. How I'm going to do it this time is I will take orders here on the website, or in person, or however for the next month or so. The best way will be to head to the Shop section of the site, click on the link, pay for the hardback, and then you're on the order list. I'm only going to order, number, sign, and authenticate the hardbacks that are pre-ordered as first editions and I will do it in the order they are received. So, for example, if just four people pre-order the book, then I will only order four, and that will be the only first-editions out there. Obviously that would be great for those four people someday when they'll be worth gazillions. After that it'll be all 2nd edition hardbacks, paperbacks and digital.
Speaking of digital. If you buy one of the hardbacks you get a free digital pdf. Speaking of digital pdf's. You can head to the Books section of the site right now and download a free 100 pages of The Sentinel.
As you can see, this week's blog is all about the books. Rex Chase: A Novel is completed. You can buy it CHEAP right now on Amazon or through the Shop section of the site. The story hasn't changed, but the delivery has a bit. First, I learned that using a lot of adverbs is bad, and guess what, Ma'iitso had over 2000 of them.
"The boy clumsily walked down the eerily lit path."
"The boy stumbled along the dark and eerie walkway."
That's an example of the type of sentence I may have had floating around in some of my work and then how we went back, identified the adverbs, picked new adjectives and got everything modifying the nouns. 2000 times. Yeah, it took a few minutes.
Then, it turned out that I also have a penchance for passive writing. I knew that I used a fair amount of passive in my work, I just didn't realize how big of a no, no that was. For example I would use a sentence like this:
"The bad guy was punched in the face by Rex Chase."
I don't think I actually used any passive that sounded quite that bad, but its easier to illustrate. Here is how I reworked sentences like that, more than six-hundred times.
"Rex Chase punched the bad guy in the face."
Bam. Active sentence. Sounds way better right? Well, other than the name and cover change, that's the main difference between Ma'iitso Rises and Rex Chase: A Novel. Alright, what's next.
Oh yeah. Dangling participles. I understand them when I see them as an example on a webpage, or when my mom says them. I am 100% unable to find them inside of a full novel. It's like my brain just skips right over the top of them. Luckily, I know smart people, they helped me a lot, and it turns out I didn't have too many in my book. Great!
So, that concludes the Redux of Ma'iitso Rises hereto forever known as Rex Chase.
Next on the list. I had to go back and do a whole lot of those changes to The Sentinel, especially the adverbs. For some reason I just love them when I'm writing along.
So, that's what I've been doing instead of thinking real hard about blogs. Oh yeah, I also built these animated Gif's and they actually work. Sweet
Remember, if you like the blog you can hit the subscribe via email button which is right above the comment box if you click on comment. Then you'll always know when I've posted! Also, I appreciate it when you share on facebook/twitter and the like. It only takes a second using the share button or icons above. Wanna help fund the printing of The Sentinel? Hit the donate button below! Wanna fund it by buying a signed paperback or hardback? Those are linked right here too! Oh yeah. FREE SHIPPING in the lower 48! Thanks!
Donate
July 30, 2014
Nope, I still don't beat my wife.
I'm going to write a little bit today about something I think is dumb. Beating up women. I think it is worse than smoking marijuana. I think it is worse than taking hgh to make yourself hit more home runs. I think it is worse than saying mean things to or about other people. You know who doesn't agree with me? The NFL, MLB, and NBA, and the proof is in the pudding.
I'll start with the NFL. It seems that in 2014, fifteen guys have been suspended for violating the league's substance abuse policy. Good for the the NFL. Drugs are bad mmmkay? Most of those suspensions are a mandatory four games, two are for six games, one is for a whole season, and two more are indefinite. So, the total number of years players have been suspended in 2014 for taking ped's or flunking a drug test (oftentimes for marijuana which happens to actually be legal in some states) = An infinite number of games.
That's harsh penalties and I assume most of it is deservedly so.
Next up in the NFL. Saying mean things.
Vikings special teams coordinator Mike Priefer allegedly said some pretty bad/homophobic stuff to their kicker and there was an investigation, and though it hasn't been to actual court yet, the NFL handed down a 3 game suspension. I agree with this. When you're the boss you help to create the workplace environment and what he is accused of saying was wrong.
Third for the NFL: Punching your soon to be wife into unconciousness and dragging her by the hair from an elevator and it is caught on tape.
Ray Rice did this. He admitted to it. (Probably because it is on tape) He's being punished in a court of law. 2 game suspension.
Two games? For real? So if he would have gone on a homophobic rant just beforehand would he have gotten just the stiffer three game suspension or do you think they would have added up the two and given him five? Like I said before, I'm fine with the 3 game suspension for the Vikings coach, but he would have been better off punching his wife in the face, maybe even dropping her down a flight of stairs. Better yet, I wonder how many games a player would get if he punched his pregnant wife in the belly? Yeah, child abuse and woman beating wrapped into one. That's gotta be worth a big suspension. Oh wait, that's happened before? Yep, but it was in MLB...
Flash back to January of 2000. It's cold, or hot, depending on where you are on this planet, but I know where Pedro Astacio was. He was beating the crap out of his pregnant wife. Suspension? Zero games. He started on opening day for the Rockies.
Josh Luecke, a pitcher for the Tampa Bay Rays rapes a woman, pleads it down to sexual assault and false imprisonment, (if you falsely imprison someone and then sexually assault them I guess it isn't rape?) then does 42 days in jail. Suspension? Zero games.
The list goes on and on in MLB, but now I need to get to the real crimes. Yeah, the ones way worse than beating pregnant women and raping.
Pete Rose: Banned for life. Gambling on games and being a pompous jerk. Yep, those are horrible.
Alex Rodriguez: Suspended for an entire season. Took some PED's. Lied about it. Tried not to get caught. People don't like him much. Pretty terrible stuff.
Ryan Braughn: Suspended 65 games for taking PEDs. He lied and lied about it too, tried to cover it up, slandered other people, and then even beat the rap, but then he got busted and cried and cried, so they only gave him the 65 games instead of a season like A Rod.
OK, so the list goes on and on here too. These guys are jerks and cheaters and through my use of simple math based on suspensions they are infinitely worse people than the guys who punched their pregnant wives and got all rapey that one night. You know, boys will be boys. (Just wanna make sure everyone sees the sarcasm there in that last statement.)
NBA:
Jason Kidd: He got a dui. Those are bad. Don't drive drunk. 2 game suspension. He punched his wife in the face, got arrested for it, everyone pretty much admitted it. ZERO game suspension.
Ron Artest: Wait a minute. Ron Artest plead guilty to a domestic violence charge and got a 7 game suspension. WOW! Seven games! That's great! I mean it's the same amount of time he got for elbowing James Harden during a game and 79 games fewer than he got for running up in the stands after that guy threw a cup of ice on him when he was laying on the scorers table and 59 games less than Latrell Sprewell got for choking P.J. Carlissimo at practice (Sprewell made the egregious mistake of assaulting another man. Tisk. Tisk. Latrell), and 4 games less than Rodman got for kicking that cameraman (should have said you thought he was a girl Dennis.) etc. etc.
And then there is Donald Sterling. He said stupid hateful stuff. He got caught. He's a bad guy and he's paying the price by being given two billion dollars. Er, I mean, he's banned from the league. OK, never mind, being given two billion dollars for your team that was estimated to be worth 600-800 million when this whole thing started is not a punishment, so I guess he's smelling like roses now too, although I guess people don't like him much. I could probably deal with it for a couple of billion.
So, to wrap it up. If you want to run afoul of the commissioner in any of the three major sports you want to do it by beating on women. Smoking weed, driving too fast, choking your head coach, taking peds, calling people bad names, and even criticizing the officials (I forgot to mention that people get fined for criticizing officiating all of the time, which is more than the zero punishments most get for beating their wives/girlfriends) All of those things are considered worse by the sports' collective commisioners. They wouldn't say that to your face, but I haven't heard from Roger Goodell in the last few days talking about how proud he is of the stand they took on Ray Rice knocking his wife unconcious and dragging her out of an elevator by her hair. Wait, I suppose that's probably because he isn't proud and sends other lemmings out to take the fall for what is ultimately his decision. Well played mister Goodell, but I don't think I'm sold. I guess I'll just sit here still not beating my wife.
So ends the blog for today. Next week I'll talk a little about the re-issue of my first novel Rex Chase, and the impending September release of The Sentinel. Have a happy hump day everyone!
Remember, if you like the blog you can hit the subscribe via email button which is right above the comment box if you click on comment. Then you'll always know when I've posted! Also, I appreciate it when you share on facebook/twitter and the like. It only takes a second using the share button or icons above. Wanna help fund the printing of The Sentinel? Hit the donate button below! Wanna fund it by buying a signed paperback or hardback? Those are linked right here too! Oh yeah. FREE SHIPPING in the lower 48! Thanks!
July 23, 2014
The NSA ate my blog
You know what I hate? Well, I won't say hate because my mom says I shouldn't hate things, and technically I don't hate what I'm about to say here. Alright, let me try again. You know what I very much dislike? I dislike when I get online to read my news and the author of an article has sited tweets all throughout his/her article and instead of actually writing the article they just stick those tweets in there willy nilly and then call it reporting. I'm sure you've seen it before, but it looks something like this.
And, I just worked on this for an hour and a half, saved my work numerous times, and then everything after the lead paragraph just disappeared. Maybe I offended someone in the NSA or something with my fake news stories. I would write another one, but the first was just so good and now I have to get going. So, shortest blog ever, maybe I'll do another tomorrow or something to make up for it. I actually have a ticket sent into squarespace, so perhaps they'll find it floating around on their servers somewhere and get it back up for me. For now, though, I blame it on government conspiracy.
Have a great day everyone!
Ma'iitso Rises Signed Hard Copy
30.00
Quantity:Add To Cart
sale
Ma'iitso Rises Paperback
14.99 16.99
Quantity:Add To Cart
July 16, 2014
Never duplicated.
So, I sat down to write the blog this week and I had a few things to write about. I started one about the baseball All-Star game and how the home run derby was way better when they were all on steroids. I thought about another that had to do with our family fishing trip we took yesterday that yielded four small bluegill, but a lot of fun time spent together. I thought of a third that had to do with our family trips to the dentist, which are not nearly as much fun as fishing. While I was doing all of this thinking I decided to watch some youtube videos of some music stuff and I learned a few things.
The first thing I learned is that even though I feel like I'm a competent musician, I actually suck. I watched a group of twelve year old kids absolutely dominate some really technical metal arrangements. I then watched some other little kids play the drums, guitar, bass, and piano at a level I certainly haven't attained. Then, the little twelve year old band played a cover of a Slipknot song with Corey Taylor, and it sounded just like Slipknot. That led me to watching some live Corey Taylor stuff, which turned into an entire live Corey Taylor acoustic show, which was very good. During his show, though, he played some Alice In Chains and I decided to watch some AIC youtube videos and at the top of the list was Alice In Chains MTV Unplugged from 1996. That was the year I graduated high school.
So, I start watching this video and remembering their brilliance. They are, without a doubt, my favorite 90's band. They weren't then. I was a gigantic Pearl Jam fan, but PJ has lost its luster a bit with me over the years. I still love their first five albums, but after that I'm not a huge fan. I don't love them just for the sake of loving them. Anyway, I digress. I'm watching this Alice In Chains video and it reminds me of something. We don't necessarily all have to be masters of our instruments. It doesn't matter if you can't shred like Steve Vai. That isn't to say that AIC aren't good musicians, because they are, but I doubt Jerry Cantrell would put himself on the same technical level as say, Eddie Van Halen. I guess I don't know him personally, but somehow I doubt it.
So, as I sat here I went from wishing I could play as well as these little kids to learning a lesson from Alice In Chains. Whether you write music, poetry, books, groom dogs, cut hair, fix teeth, mow yards, wait tables, engineer sky scrapers, or pick up garbage, if you do it with all your heart and soul, then you've achieved something special. I sat and watched that whole video and it is really too bad Layne Staley couldn't drag himself from the clutches of heroin. That voice, whether you care for it or not, is distinctive, melodic, and amazing. I've seen plenty of bands cover AIC and even AIC has a new singer, but Staley just can't be duplicated. So, I guess that's all the point is here today. Layne Staley can't be duplicated. I can't be duplicated. You can't be duplicated. and I think that is awesome. If you've never seen the video of which I speak I'm going to link it right here. This was a tight, tight, tight, band and I suppose they still are, just a man short.
Remember, if you like the blog you can hit the subscribe via email button which is right above the comment box if you click on comment. Then you'll always know when I've posted! Also, I appreciate it when you share on facebook/twitter and the like. It only takes a second using the share button or icons above. Wanna help fund the printing of The Sentinel? Hit the donate button below! Wanna fund it by buying a signed paperback or hardback? Those are linked right here too! Oh yeah. FREE SHIPPING in the lower 48! Thanks!
Donate
Ma'iitso Rises Signed Hard Copy
30.00
Quantity:Add To Cart
sale
Ma'iitso Rises Paperback
14.99 16.99
Quantity:Add To Cart
July 9, 2014
The Server Dream
I have big news to start today's blog. I have settled on Rex Chase: A Novel, as the replacement name for Ma'iitso Rises. I have reasons for choosing the name, and they are based on science. Kind of like astrology. Anyway, the really cool part is that I hired a new cover to be done and it is awesome! The bad part is that it makes me not like my cover for The Sentinel. So, check it out.
After hours of scouring the online databases of covers I came across this one, and although there were a few things wrong with it, like the gas mask, and the hooded jacket, I came to a conclusion. I love it. It won't take much to include these oddities into my story, so I'll fix it. Problem solved. Anyway, whatya think? ONTO THE BLOG!
I've written before about the frequency and vividness of my dreams. The one I had last night was a doozy.
I've spent many years behind a bar and running around a restaurant, and in that time it has been very rare that I get inundated in work to a point where I'm hopeless. Number 1, I can handle a lot of work. Number 2, if I were about to be dying in the weeds, I'll ask for help. Number 3, most restaurants don't want any one person getting that busy anyway.
I was working at Jumer's, and if you remember that place it had an upstairs room called The Reagensburg. I'm up there by myself, and it isn't busy when Joslyn Livengood walks in with some dude and sits in one of the booths. The strange thing about that is: 1. I didn't know the guy, and 2. She was eighteen years old. Then, with all consciousness, in my dream, I realize that I'm twenty years old, which would make sense since that's how old I was when I worked at Jumer's. So, we made some chit chat about how nice it was to see each other and in the meantime a few more tables come up to the room and sit down and I get drink orders.
At this point I have five tables and I'm looking around for my busser, because at Jumer's that room would have its own busser who would bring water and bread/cinnamon rolls to the table. I don't see one, so I make my way down the steps to see what servers I'm sharing the room with. When I get downstairs I'm shocked to see Natasha Farmer is my manager. This makes no sense because she didn't manage at Jumer's, just at Chilis. That doesn't matter, though, so I ask her about my busser and other servers and she tells me that not only do I have the room to myself, but that there is no bartender and she needs me to cover that as well as pick up an eight top on the main floor. She asks if I can handle that, and I say no, in large part because the bar, the eight top, and my original five tables are all in seperate rooms, far, far, away from one another. Tasha gets mad at me and tells me to greet the eight top. I get mad back, throw a little lip her way, and start to ring in my drinks.
Uh oh. The computer is a Sable point of sale system. I don't remember how to run that system, and it makes no sense for it to be at Jumer's because they had Micros. I decide that it doesn't matter since I have to make my own drinks anyway, and go out to greet the eight top. I get to the eight top and nobody knows what they want to drink, a busser hasn't been there with water and they want cinnamon rolls RIGHT NOW. Meanwhile I can see the hostess taking more tables upstairs, where I haven't been for a few minutes. The eight top is asking me question after question about the drink menu, and I can't remember any of it. Since I'm an experienced server, though, I'm making up stuff that sounds feasible with the idea that I'm making the drinks anyway, I'll just do it the way I want. So, after five minutes stuck at this table I have their drink orders and I sprint up the stairs back to the Reagensburg where my original five tables still don't have water, bread/cinnamon rolls, and I haven't even run over to the Balkon lounge to make their drinks yet. My plan is to just cruise past the tables, explain that some degenerates didn't come to work, get food orders, then go make drinks for everyone.
When I get up there, the room is full. All 20 tables are sat. My heart sinks.
I grab Joslyn and put her to work. She's awesome, and after I show her where the water and bread station is, along with my instructions to tell every table that we had some people not show up to work and I'll be around as soon as possible, I run from the Reagensburg into the Balkon lounge. I can still do this. I'll just treat the Reag like a sixty top, ignore the bar (except for my own drinks), and hit that eight top downstairs when I'm running for food. No problem.
I get into the Balkon Bar and Natasha is behind the bar, and it is a train wreck. Dirty glasses are everywhere, and as I start to try to make drinks, every glass I pull from the rack is filthy. Like covered in mud filthy. Then Tasha comes over and we have a conversation.
"Do you mind greeting that couple at the bar while you're here?" She said.
"Greet them yourself, I have a full Reag and an eight top downstairs. Why are all the glasses so filthy?"
"Dish machine is broke."
"I don't have time for this Tash. Who's washing dishes then?"
"Servers are just bringing them up here for the bartender to wash."
"And thats me?"
"Yep."
"Where is the dishwasher?
"Since the machine is broke I sent him home."
"You did what? How am I supposed to do all this? I had to pull one of my friends from a table and put her to work. I'm not taking that downstairs eight top, and I don't know how to use the Sable." I toss her my list of drinks to ring in.
"I don't know how to use the Sable either. You really aren't going to take the eight top or this couple at the bar? I thought you liked making money?"
"You're stupid."
I finish washing the glasses I need for the original five tables, bang out a bunch more so that when I get more orders I'll have glasses, make the drinks I need while Tash makes chit-chat with the couple at the bar, empty the filthy dish sinks, and then bolt from the room. Its been almost fifteen minutes since I first greeted my original five tables and the others have been there 5-10 minutes without being greeted. Both are eternities in the world of serving and I can see that people are getting grumpy, especially the guy that came with Joslyn. So, this dude stands up, comes over to me and says.
"I know you guys are friends and all, but I didn't come here to watch her work. I came for a nice relaxing dinner. We're leaving."
He grabs Josie by the arm and tells her they're leaving, but she says she wants to stay and help me. Then the guy gets all mad and pushes her down. Then I knock him out, spilling the drinks I just made.
I look up, and its like nobody else in the room was even watching. This dude is lying on the floor, my right hand hurts, and I'm back to square one with the drinks. An overwhelming feeling of helplessness goes through me and I look to the floor below where the eight top is now complaining to Natasha, and I assume its about me not being there, them not getting cinnamon rolls, and me spilling drinks over the balcony.
A man stands up, breaking my pity party and asks me if they are going to get service any time today. I go back into damage mode, ask Josie if she'll get drink orders and bring them to me, then go back to the Balkon Bar. When I get there Tasha is there and we have another conversation.
"Why didn't you get them cinnamon rolls?"
"That's a busser's job and I don't have time."
"Well, everyone is trying to help out around here and it just seems like you're looking out for yourself."
At that moment I look around the bar and notice that all of my clean glasses are gone.
"Where did all my glasses I just cleaned go?"
"Other servers needed glasses so I let them take those. They didn't have time to wash more."
I'm so mad at this point I can't stand it and storm from the room. When I get into the Reag two tables are angry and asking to see a manager, and the guy I knocked out is waking up and threatening to call the cops. I just stand there and watch as Josie walks up to me, a big cheesy grin on her face and hands me a piece of paper. On it are sixty mixed drinks that I need to make.
Then I woke up. I've had dreams like this several times, and they almost always end with me storming out of the restaurant, but this one ended in helplessness, which, I'll say, is much less satisfying. Usually, though, I don't get to knock anyone out, so that part was pretty cool. Anyway, thanks for the help Josie. Thanks for nothing Natasha. (Disclaimer: Natasha would have helped me in real life.) Have a happy hump day everyone!
Remember, if you like the blog you can hit the subscribe via email button which is right above the comment box if you click on comment. Then you'll always know when I've posted! Also, I appreciate it when you share on facebook/twitter and the like. It only takes a second using the share button or icons above. Wanna help fund the printing of The Sentinel? Hit the donate button below! Wanna fund it by buying a signed paperback or hardback? Those are linked right here too! Oh yeah. FREE SHIPPING in the lower 48! Thanks!
Donate
Ma'iitso Rises Signed Hard Copy
30.00
Quantity:Add To Cart
sale
Ma'iitso Rises Paperback
14.99 16.99
Quantity:Add To Cart
July 2, 2014
It's not that I don't like soccer. It's that I hate being bored.
Look what I have! No, not a beater, I have a bunch of those. No, not the epic, completely not strategic board game Battleship. It's proof copies of The Sentinel! They are in and I'm slaving away to finish the editing portion. It's a process, but I'm on schedule. If you haven't already heard, Ma'iitso Rises is going to receive a bit of a facelift, which includes a name change and new cover. I'm leaning toward Rex Chase: An Adventure for the new title, but would love to hear of any others people might have. Whatya think? On to the blog!
World Cup time is here again, and every four years I have to explain to people why I think soccer is boring. I should be thankful that they don't do it every year, but for some reason I'm not. Like I said in the title. It's not that I don't like soccer. It's that I hate being bored.
I read an article the other day in some fancy nationwide publication where a very articulate writer listed the "soccer is boring" excuse as the lamest excuse of all. He went on to say that soccer has one of the highest rates of actual game time and American football really only plays about thirteen minutes a game or something. I don't really remember, because thinking about a bunch of dudes running back and forth playing keep away while quasi fighting over a ball and simultaneously pretending to be hurt by one another in order to get the other guy in trouble kind of reminded me of my kids and how much I dislike it when they fake being hurt just to maybe get the other person in trouble, whch in turn caused me to almost fall asleep during the article. At least in Football they ARE actually trying to hurt each other, even if they say they aren't.
Yeah, I don't like tattle-tailing. Is that how you spell that? Tattle-tailing. Tattle-taleing, Tattle-taling. Is it like you have a tail or like you're telling a tale? I would lean toward tattling a tale about another's transgressions, but that looks dumb whereas if it's like you're going to grow a tail if you tattle too much, weird Pinocchio style, I get a more satisfying spelling. Tattle-tailing. Huh.
Anyway, is that a good reason to be bored by soccer? I don't know, but I saw a guy in one match not get tripped, pretend to be tripped to try to get a foul, bring another guy down with him, not get hit in the face with an elbow, then try to get the other guy in trouble for the elbow by rolling on the ground and holding his face for almost ten minutes. It sucked, he didn't get in trouble for it, and was supremely boring. Do NBA players flop? Yep, but I don't love the NBA either and one of the big reasons is because of 6'8" 280 pound guys flopping to the ground when a 6'3" 210 pound guy breathes on them.
Its not that I don't respect what a great soccer player can do either. I mean, who can juggle balls better than soccer players? Well, I guess jugglers can. And seals. They can balance those suckers right on their noses. Other than that? I guess I've known a few... Never mind.
OK, so there are better ball jugglers. Who can run farther, faster than soccer players? Oh yeah, I guess probably every marathon guy can. Probably lots of marathon girls too. Maybe we should all start skipping work to watch marathons? They only average about 2.6 goals less per game.
So, now I'll address the action and scoring issues. Yes, the ball is in play an awful lot in soccer, and yes, sports like baseball and football, when it comes to brass tax, don't really outscore them all that much. So why does soccer bore me so? Easy, because not only do they not score much in soccer, but the opportunity to score almost never exists. In baseball, an opportunity to hit a bomb exists on every pitch. In football, the opportunity to break it for a touchdown exists on every play. Most of soccer is spent jockeying for position well out of range of the goal and they have gotten really good at keeping it in the middle of the field. If you're REALLY lucky there will be fifty scoring opportunities in a soccer game and almost none of those will actually get put on goal, whereas football will give you 140 and baseball well over 200. Hockey has a similar problem except for that those guys beat the heck out of each other, slamming each other into walls, taking each other out in the middle of the ice, getting hit with pucks flying 100mph... And do they flop and whine? Nope, if they don't like what the other guy did they spit out their loose tooth, tuck in their broken thumb and punch him in the face. That's what I'm talking about.
The world was apparently impressed by the American team's 1-2-1 showing on the World cup stage. That's a 25% win rate. Is that good in soccer? Is it like a baseball batting average? I wonder if U.S. baseball would get the same adulation even if they all played with their opposite hands? Anyway, If the U.S. soccer dudes showed up at my doorstep I'd for sure give them a "job well done" handshake coupled with a "you'll get em next time" pat on the back with a final, "nice work getting out of Brazil without being decapitated, those dudes take their soccer way too seriously sometimes" celibratory shot, and I'd hope that it would piss them off, because if I were a soccer player, no matter how hard I tried, losing more games than you win sucks. I don't even like to lose at Monopoly and nobody makes you run 8 miles to do that.
Anyway, the whole point to this blog was that I'd prefer average Americans to just declare their love for soccer for what it is. A reason to get together with your friends and get hammered drunk. Bar business all across the nation skyrocketed and attendance to work was down on U.S. World Cup game days. Weird, the same thing happens on St. Patrick's Day, the day after St. Patrick's day, the Super Bowl, the day after the Super Bowl, etc. Don't get me wrong, I love my country, and I love St. Patrick's day, and the Super Bowl, wait, I almost lost myself there. Oh yeah, I love my country, and I support our soccer team, just not by watching it on tv, or pretending like I've always loved it, or telling stories about when I played soccer when I was 8, or by getting real drunk, or by skipping work. It's like the NFL draft. (Which a lot of people like to waste a portion of their life on.) I don't need to watch it. Just the highlights please.
I get it though. Everyone loves an underdog, especially one that plays its heart out and I commend the U.S. soccer team for that. I wouldn't even want to run up and down the field once, or even just up it for that matter and when I think about what it would take for me to pull off one of those bicycle kicks, well, it would take a time machine.
So, for all you soccer fans out there who are for real, honest to goodness soccer fans. Fans who actually know a player or two in the MLS, or even one of the team's names, or maybe even have a jersey, went to a game, or can name a foreign team other than Man U, then this blog wasn't for you.
I'm talking to the guy who is hammered drunk, has never heard of Landon Donovan, is appalled I don't know who Ronoldo is married to, doesn't know what extra time is, can't explain offsides, and thinks they're talking about the Olympic Sport every time they say handball. You like to get drunk, which makes watching things a lot more fun, even soccer.
P.S. This is satire. In case you couldn't tell and are offended. I don't want letters. I could probably write one of these about every sport. Maybe I will. If I were to watch soccer I'd wanna do it like these guys
Stay tuned and have a great day!
Remember, if you like the blog you can hit the subscribe via email button which is right above the comment box if you click on comment. Then you'll always know when I've posted! Also, I appreciate it when you share on facebook/twitter and the like. It only takes a second using the share button or icons above. Wanna help fund the printing of The Sentinel? Hit the donate button below! Wanna fund it by buying a signed paperback or hardback? Those are linked right here too! Oh yeah. FREE SHIPPING in the lower 48! Thanks!
Donate
Ma'iitso Rises Signed Hard Copy
30.00
Quantity:Add To Cart
sale
Ma'iitso Rises Paperback
14.99 16.99
Quantity:Add To Cart
June 25, 2014
Katsuo Takahiro
Get excited ladies and gents because The Sentinel is written, has made it through the initial editing phase, and proof copies are on their way to my house. We are currently on track for a September release as I dump a little cash into the advertising budget and try to drum up a little blog interest and whatnot. Check out the first rendition of the cover! I'll reveal this one this week, and another one next week.
So, there's the cover reveal. What does everyone think? Drop me a line or leave me a comment! Everyone who leaves a comment of any kind, good or bad gets put in a drawing for an advance copy! Next week I plan on revealing a second cover, done by an honest to goodness professional, hopefully, fingers crossed, and we'll vote on which is better. So, here comes a little tease from the book. Meet Katsuo Takahiro!
Katsuo Takahiro
White foam swirled in the wake of the 1929 Chris Craft Cadet. The eighty-two horsepower Chrysler power plant throatily idled as the watercraft’s pilot expertly guided the vessel through the icy waters. Katsuo Takahiro took notice of the steam emanating from the smaller craft he was pulling alongside. It seemed another man had braved the St. Charles that evening.
He brought the twenty-two foot craft to a stop and neatly leapt the small gap to the pier. As he hurriedly tied a bowline the stocky Japanese man remembered a lifetime ago when his father had taught him the knot. Days had been so much simpler then.
With the boat secure Katsuo retrieved a pack of Lucky Strikes from his rain coat . Cigarettes were one thing the Americans could really do right. He adroitly flicked a windproof Zippo lighter; illuminating his weathered and scarred face, and inhaled deeply, allowing himself to reminisce.
The water had been his home for as long as he could remember. His mother had once shown him a picture of himself as a toddler and his father on the docks in Yokohama, Japan’s largest port. By the time he had turned five years old he was making daily trips to sea, and by the age of ten he had been skilled enough to captain his own boat. Nearly fifty years had passed since those good times.
Katsuo snapped from his reverie as a luxury vehicle came to a stop in the parking lot ahead of him, its brakes squeaking slightly. He breathed deep the flavorful smoke before allowing himself to return to his daydream.
Life had been good for the young Takahiro family. By 1904 their number had grown to eleven and the fishing had been superior. He remembered well the day his father had sat him down and instructed him to continue the family business. Even more ingrained in his mind, though, was the sound of his mother’s cries only a few months later.
His father’s death in the Russo-Japanese war had publicly brought the family great honor. Privately, though, Katsuo and his mother had loathed the Japanese military. Its influence seemed to be permeating every walk of life, and the family attempted to steer clear of its control.
Over the course of the next eighteen years Katsuo worked from sunrise to sunset, 365 days a year, to provide for the family. He had shunned all advances from would be girlfriends to start a family of his own. His brothers and sisters hadn’t all agreed with the way he ran things, but none of them starved, and none of them had to sleep in the streets.
September 1, 1923 was a day he would never forget. Yasuhiro Takahiro, his youngest brother, had joined Katsuo in the family business at the age of five, and hadn’t missed a single day’s work in thirteen years. He was the pride of the entire family, and though that day had been his eighteenth birthday, it had begun like every other.
Katsuo and Yasuhiro had woken up before the sun had risen, kissed their mother goodbye, and driven to the docks. That time of year the fishing grounds were often four to five hours out to sea. They were planning on staying a few days until their holds were full, but the elder Takahiro had something different in mind.
They had been making way for nearly two hours when strange noises began emanating from the engine compartment. Katsuo was the mechanic of the two and upon investigation had decided to turn back. Yasuhiro, not one to argue with the only father he had ever known, had quietly returned to the stern of the boat, and read a book.
Their journey home had been laboriously slow, but as they pulled into Yokohama harbor Katsuo could see everything was going to plan. Yasuhiro still sat nearby, reading a book. The youngest Takahiro was hard working and brilliant. He had been accepted to study physics at the University of Tokyo, and Katsuo planned on telling him in just a few short minutes.
Katsuo opened his eyes for a moment. The cold November air had whipped across the St. Charles and sent a shiver up his spine. Noticing nothing else awry he puffed from his cigarette before letting his mind drift back in time and thousands of miles away. It was almost like it was happening all over again.
“Yasuhiro. Pull your nose out of that book and get to the bow. The current is a little rough today, I’m going to need you to tie a bowline and get us secure ”
The younger brother arched his eyebrow slightly, closed his book, and did as he was told. His brother was such a good pilot he could hardly imagine how bad a current would have to be for him to make such an order.
“ Alright old man, you must be losing it though. This chop is barely a foot.”
Katsuo feigned anger, but inside he felt like a little kid.
“Just get up there and do as you’re told.”
“Ok, Ok. You don’t need to get all worked up. I don’t want you having a heart attack on me.” Yasuhiro flashed a smile as he tied the knot and readied himself to leap onto the pier. A large luxury steamer, the Empress of Australia, sat nearby and hundreds of well-wishers crowded the area. “That is one huge ship. How long do you think she is?”
“I’d say 102 ken.”
“Wow, almost 190 meters. I bet we could make a lot of money with a ship like that.”
“You and your meters. Give me the shakkan -ho units any day.”
“Meters are so much easier though. I’m telling you in a year or…” Yasuhiro’s voice trailed off as they neared their slip and something seemed to catch his eye. “Hey do you see who’s up there?”
“No, who is it?” Katsuo could barely conceal his excitement.
“It’s Mom!” His younger brother exclaimed loudly. “Everyone else is here too! I knew you’d been acting funny the last week. Wait a minute, is our boat even broken?”
Their entire family had not been in the same place at once in many years. Yasuhiro had begged Katsuo to get everyone together for his birthday, but the elder had used every excuse available. It was going to be a wonderful day. He watched as his youngest brother easily leapt the ten foot gap to the dock and tied the bowline.
If there was one thing the entire Takahiro family could agree upon, it was their love for Yasuhiro. As Katsuo finished shutting down the engine and made his way to the front of the boat he couldn’t help but smile. He looked down upon his family and a calm settled upon him like he had never felt before. It was a calm that would last only seconds.
“You’ll never have to work on this boat again my brother.” He quietly said the words to himself.
At 11:58 a.m. a sixty by sixty mile segment of the Philippine oceanic plate abruptly fractured and slammed against the Eurasian continental plate. Sixty petajoules of energy was instantly released and the ground shook violently. A thunder like he had never heard before reverberated in his chest and Katsuo was knocked backwards onto the deck of his boat . He struggled to stand as the shaking continued for what seemed an eternity.
As he fought his way to the port side he saw a horrific site. The pier near the ocean liner began collapsing in sections. Screams of the fallen now joined the deafening thunder and just when it seemed the shaking would last forever. It ended.
Katsuo gained his footing as the boat quickly stopped bucking. Four minutes had passed and he feared what he would see as he looked over the side of his fishing trawler. Summoning his courage he approached the edge and his fears were confirmed.
The pier where his entire family had once stood now lay in shambles in the water. Screams for help had already diminished to feeble cries and the entire bay had become eerily quiet. Katsuo was on the verge of tears when he heard a hoarse call for assistance.
“Brother. My brother. Are you alive?”
He rushed to the edge of the vessel and his heart leapt into his throat. Hanging by his left hand from the bowline was Yasuhiro, the limp body of their mother firmly gripped in his right. He had a large gash underneath his rib cage, but still managed a smile.
“She’s still breathing Katsuo, but I can’t climb with only one arm. Could you pull us up?”
“Absolutely!”
Katsuo shouted the words and immediately began pulling at the line. At five feet six inches he was short, but a life of hard work had turned his body into a sculpted muscular specimen. He fought the dead weight below for nearly a minute, using every ounce of his two hundred pounds, but made little progress. Then an idea jumped into his head. He leaned over the edge again.
“You’re too heavy. I’m going to hook you up to the pulleys for the nets, though. Just give me a second.”
“Take your time.” The muscles bulged from Yasuhiro’s arms and he managed a smile, though the exertion was taking its toll. “I can hold on like this all day.”
Katsuo had never moved faster in his life. In less than two minutes he had the rigging all set up to hoist what was left of his family to safety. Happy that the plan was ready to implement, he attached a clip to the broken bowline and leaned over the edge. It was the last time he’d see his brother and mother.
“I’ve got you. Up you come. You’re going to the University of Tokyo to study physics ”
Yasuhiro looked up and smiled weakly, then disappeared. A forty foot wall of water slammed into the aft of the boat, lifting it high into the air and tossing it like a rag doll. Katsuo was immediately thrown to the deck, violently banging his head against a crate and losing consciousness.
The sound of a car horn jerked him back to reality. Katsuo Takahiro stood on the dock on the icy St. Charles River a different man than he had been back then. He pulled another Lucky Strike from the package and lit it, stroking the long jagged scar on his cheek before flipping the Zippo closed.
He had spent nearly a year searching for the bodies of his family, but to no avail. Everything he had ever worked for was taken in the Great Kanto Earthquake. Indigent and living on the streets Katsuo could think of only one course of action. He joined those he formerly hated, the Imperial Japanese Army.
It was in the army that he found his true calling. A natural leader of men Katsuo had quickly risen through the ranks, achieving the grade of colonel with astonishing speed. Every mission he was given, every task he was assigned, was completed flawlessly and in record time.
Although he had spent many years at sea as a fisherman Katsuo was not an unintelligent man. He had often read books to pass the time on long trips, and in the army he found that he also had a knack for speaking other languages. Inside of two years he had learned English, Russian, German, French, Italian, and bits of Chinese.
His most difficult mission had begun only four years before. Command had brought him in and told him he would be going undercover. He had been chosen to spy on American naval installations, posing as a fisherman.
Katsuo took another drag of his cigarette as he thought of all the humiliating jobs he was forced to do on American fishing trawlers. Though it had been obvious to everyone he was a knowledgeable, hardworking fisherman, racism left him only the worst jobs. Every day of his life in the U.S. had been filled with humiliation and denigration.
All of that had changed eighteen months before in Seward, Alaska. He had been assigned to a more northern region to assess American capabilities, and the summer in Alaska had proven to be rather pleasant. Katsuo had been staying in a small boarding house run by the only pleasant American he had ever met. One day she had knocked on his door to deliver a phone message. It was one word, followed by an address. The word was “Yasuhiro”.
Katsuo had immediately reported to the address which had turned out to be a Catholic church. Upon entering he had seemed to be by himself, but then he heard her voice for the first time. It was a voice he would never forget.
“Over here in the confessional. Please have a seat. I believe I can help you find Yasuhiro.”
As far as the Japanese Army knew he was currently dead. The woman in the confessional had arranged for him to be head of security for Mitsubishi and he had proven to be an efficient leader. When he had been summoned to another meeting he feared his benefactor had bad news. That day, though, was the day Katsuo Takahiro became the owner of Mitsubishi.
He had tackled his job as owner of Mitsubishi as fervently as any job he had ever had. Within months he had developed new ideas, and set the company on new paths. Most importantly, though, he had developed a new airplane. The Navy Type 0 Carrier Fighter was not being sold to the Navy yet, but initial testing was promising and the company had churned out a few dozen of the aircraft.
Katsuo took a final puff from his Lucky before dropping it to the dock and putting it out with his boot. He shrugged his shoulders and shivered slightly, peering through narrowed eyes at the gala going on above. Tonight was the night he made his play to be the most powerful man in Japan. Tonight was the night he brought the Americans to their knees. Most importantly, though, it was the night that would bring him one step closer to reuniting with the brother he had given up for dead so many years ago.
“Yasuhiro.” He said the name aloud in excellent English. “I’m coming my brother. I’m coming.”
*******************
Remember, if you like the blog you can hit the subscribe via email button which is right above the comment box if you click on comment. Then you'll always know when I've posted! Also, I appreciate it when you share on facebook/twitter and the like. It only takes a second using the share button or icons above. Wanna help fund the printing of The Sentinel? Hit the donate button below! Wanna fund it by buying a signed paperback or hardback? Those are linked right here too! Oh yeah. FREE SHIPPING in the lower 48! Thanks!
Donate
Ma'iitso Rises Signed Hard Copy
30.00
Quantity:Add To Cart
sale
Ma'iitso Rises Paperback
14.99 16.99
Quantity:Add To Cart
June 18, 2014
Garfield Wood
One of my favorite things about writing a series of books set in the late 1930's is the research. I truly enjoy weaving my story together while attempting to keep it true to the times so that when people question an airplane's capabilities or the use of a certain word as "modern" I can say: "Actually the use of the word (insert word here) dates back to 17th century France when the nobility altered the word (such and such) by adding a (letter) and dropping the (letter). I actually did have this conversation with someone, but in order to not call them out on my world renown blog and its millions of subscribers I'll keep things vague. Anyway, I like knowing that the Japanese Zero had a rate of climb nearly 1000 feet per minute higher than anything the allies could throw at it in the beginning of the war. I like researching the speed of high velocity bullets so that when my son says to me.
"Dad, did you know that bullets travel at one mile per second?"
And I say: "Who told you that?"
And then he says: "I read it in my (Such and Such) a book."
Then I get to say: "Well, I don't know what kind of gun they were shooting in (Such and Such), but when I was researching the speed of a high velocity 30.06 round for a sequence in The Sentinel I found that a 165 grain bullet would generally leave the muzzle at around 2800 feet per second and after two hundred yards would lose almost 600 feet per second from its speed."
Then he says: "Huh?"
Then I say "Well, since there are 5280 feet in a mile it would be a pretty decent assumption that it would take a high velocity 30.06 at least two seconds to travel that distance. Make sense?"
Then he says: "Yeah, and (such and such character) was shooting a pistol too so they're probably even slower."
Then I say: "Probably"
Then he says: "Why wouldn't he look that up and make it right in his book?"
Then I say: "Maybe he forgot."
Then he says: "He must have."
Guess what? My seven year old and I actually had that conversation about a book he was reading. The kid is an avid reader and ever since he broke his tablet he's really been mowing the books down. Even the librarian commented that his reading range actually put him at a teen reading level and he finds the books interesting, but then I end up having conversations about high velocity bullets, amongst others... And I got sidetracked.
The whole point of this was to say that for the first time in my life I ran across the name Garfield Wood. He was called Gar Wood for short and when I was writing an action sequence for The Sentinel I had an idea of what I wanted my boat to look like and sound like etc., but I decided to see if there was some kind of real life 1930's equivalent. So, after searching for the fastest boats of the 30's, Gar Wood's name was everywhere and I ended up spending a few hours reading about the man. He was truly a visionary and innovator and if you have a few seconds to look him up do it. That being said, it turned out the boat in my brain was relatively similar to the one in the video below. I know modern racing boats are a completely different animal, but this guy took Phillippine mahogany and strapped some V12 Packard's to it, fabricating all of the assembly himself and designing the torque converters etc. because Packard's engineers said it was impossible and the craft would shake itself to death. The neat thing about the video I'm going to link is that it is an actual video with sound from 1932. Pretty cool. So, this was the Miss America X which had four V12's and is shown here racing down the Detroit River.
6400 horsepower!!!!!! There are some modern videos of the Miss Americas VIII, IX, and X racing around and they are really magnificent feats of engineering. Anyway, something like that is going to be in The Sentinel. Oh yeah, I'll probably go ahead and mention that initial writing on The Sentinel is complete! I have some editing and whatnot to go, but the truly time consuming part is over. I'll have more announcements in the next few weeks as I set up a release date and pre-order plans etc. I was shooting for an August release, but some of the marketing stuff might actually push it back to September. We'll see! When I know, you'll know! Have a great day!
Remember, if you like the blog you can hit the subscribe via email button which is right above the comment box if you click on comment. Then you'll always know when I've posted! Also, I appreciate it when you share on facebook/twitter and the like. It only takes a second using the share button or icons above. Wanna help fund the printing of The Sentinel? Hit the donate button below! Wanna fund it by buying a signed paperback or hardback? Those are linked right here too! Oh yeah. FREE SHIPPING in the lower 48! Thanks!
Donate
Ma'iitso Rises Signed Hard Copy
30.00
Quantity:Add To Cart
sale
Ma'iitso Rises Paperback
14.99 16.99
Quantity:Add To Cart
June 11, 2014
Peek-a-peek-a-peek-a-CHOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!
Ma'iitso Rises Signed Hard Copy
30.00
Quantity:Add To Cart
sale
Ma'iitso Rises Paperback
14.99 16.99
Quantity:Add To Cart
First of all a big HAPPY BIRTHDAY to my baby sister. She has been the subject of one of my blogs, watched my kids a bunch, watched my doggies a bunch, had us over for dinner a bunch and we're currently paying her back a little by watching her little doggie while she's on vacation. He hates me and won't do anything I say, which I'm not exactly used to, but he listens to everyone else, so its actually kind of a relief in duties since I literally can not be in charge of him. The main problem with that, though, is that I'm still pretty much in charge, I just have to go get someone who will listen to me so that the doggie will listen to them. Anyway, he's a nice little pooch and we're all getting along famously. So, to my little sister, Happy Birthday, thanks for everything, we hope you're having a wonderful vacation, the pooch is just fine!!!!!!! Onto this week's shortened blog!
I'm not really a Pokemon lover, but I once spent about fifty bucks to win a two dollar Pikachu stuffed animal for my five year old at Six Flags. Actually, I guess he won it for himself. I probably could have gotten the job done for forty bucks. That being said, I'm going to keep the blog short this week. Why? You say. Well, because I'm absolutely rolling with book ideas and writing right now.
It's a strange thing when this happens, but its kind of the way I've always been with a lot of things over the years. I'll struggle and struggle, fighting to put down a thousand words in a day and not necessarily like a single one of them. Then there are days like today and yesterday where I've put down fifty quality pages with over sixteen thousand words that I'm proud of. I'm sure they'll need a little revision, but I've literally gone on runs where the words were flying out of my hands as quickly as I could type, AND they didn't suck. I haven't even really wanted to stop to eat, sleep, or go to the bathroom. If every day were like this I could rough draft a book every sixteen days or so!
So, even though the boys are watching Pokemon in the background, loudly I might add, inspiration still has a hold of me. I don't sleep very well when my mind gets racing like this anyway so I'm going to run with it until I'm exhausted. Maybe next week I'll do the blog I was planning about changing brakes, installing an lcd and digitizer into a Google Nexus 7, selling things to stupid people on ebay and how that all ties into following your dreams because whether you are successful or you fail it might as well be at something you love. Shoot, I might have ruined that one now. Oh well. Buy books! I'm poor! Even better, I'm looking for a sponsor, maybe even a benefactor, kind of like in Great Expectations. That would be even better still. So if any of you know a billionaire, or even a hundred millionaire and can convince them to pay me a couple hundred thousand a year to churn out a book every now and again, or maybe even an album or two, or whatever, I'm flexible, I'd appreciate it if you sent them my way. Thanks!
Remember, if you like the blog you can hit the subscribe via email button which is right above the comment box if you click on comment. Then you'll always know when I've posted! Also, I appreciate it when you share on facebook/twitter and the like. It only takes a second using the share button or icons above. Wanna help fund the printing of The Sentinel? Hit the donate button below! Wanna fund it by buying a signed paperback or hardback? Those are linked right here too! Oh yeah. FREE SHIPPING in the lower 48! Thanks!
Donate
