Deadlines

How do people do it?

Just working a part time job and doing perhaps 85% of the housework, I can't seem to find the energy to write or do much of anything other than laze about after work. The screenplay I'm working on with my wife's cousin is stuttering along, but slowly. And I've started the sequel to "Up in Hell" but haven't progressed very far. I think I need to lock myself in my office and put Dimmu Borgir on repeat and get some writing done.

Dust

I've been working my new job for about two weeks now. It's pretty typical warehouse stuff. You might say I pick things up and put them down. Yeah, that about covers it.

But as I stepped into the shower after getting home from work last night, it dawned on me how satisfying it is to wash off the grime. It's a stamp that tells you you've been working hard. And I think that's part of the reason why I loathe the thought of taking a desk job: there's no tangible evidence that you've done anything that's really "work".

Aches and soreness are evidence. Stinking of sweat is evidence. And the layer of grey I need to scrub off every night tells me that, yeah, I worked. I'm not saying people who work at a computer all day are lazy, just that I don't see how that kind of thing can be satisfying without a recognizable change in your work environment at the end of the day, or a visible mark on yourself.

Nothing to See Here

So have some more Dimmu Borgir

Life is going pretty well. My new job takes up basically all the afternoon, so I find myself with less time to read and write. And really, I need to get off my ass and start submitting "Up in Hell" to a few of these markets I've scouted out. I'm itching to start the sequel and yet I feel like I shouldn't until the first one gets booted out of the nest. Then again, maybe being eager to begin a project is a good thing and I should jump on that while it lasts.

I volunteered at the American Craft Beer Fest despite protests from the social anxiety goblin. Lots of good beer was had and the work wasn't too difficult; basically just making sure that nobody was too drunk and that the brewers were behaving themselves.

Best beer: Dogfish Head's Sah'tea
Runner up: Maine Beer Co's Lunch

Worst beer: Amherst Brewing's Bloody Mary Pale ale (dear god, why?)

And we now have a bunch of coasters and sticker lying around the house that I need to figure out what to do with.

Not Much

Starting a new job today. Only part time, but there's still loads of stuff I want to do with the house and I'll have time to do it while earning a modest paycheck.

No, This is Not My Guitar

I'm bringing it to a friend...

I though it was time for a short break from metal. And seriously I don't own a guitar. Though back when I had long hair I was often asked if I was in a band.

It's a wonderful song all in all, but there's one line I particularly love.

I came down from the room
I saw you in the rain
Laughing with some people
Hair dripping down your face

See that? He created a perfect image with truncated language. The action being conveyed is wet hair plastered across someone's face (assuming a woman here) dripping. The hair is not doing the dripping; the water is. But "water dripping from your hair down your face" really lacks something doesn't it? It's soulless and pedantic.

I think I write a lot like that. Not the good line; the awfully specific and mechanical one. Language is a tool used to convey information. it's nice to be understood, although I sometimes think I need to push past the boundaries of comfortable, certain language. Maybe that's what all this nonsense is about.

Prisencolinensinainciusol, all right?

 Great; that title looks like something that would set off a spam filter.

Hi blog. Been a while. It's amazing how easily you can be knocked out of your routine. A couple of weeks ago we lost internet access at our house for about a week. Coincidentally, the first day without it was the day I'd scheduled a blog update. I've been trying to do one a week.  I guess I find that my particular brand of nonsense fits a little better on Twitter where it can be chopped up into miniscule chunks like a former mafioso that's turned state's evidence.

Anyway, I had something I wanted to share. Listen to this before reading what's below it.

Made in 1972, Prisencolinensinainciusol was an attempt by Italian composer Adriano Celentano to write a song that sounded like spoken English with an American accent. It is, in fact, complete gibberish. The first time I heard it, the link was provided without any explanation and it wasn't until bout two minutes in that I figured out that, no, I did not just have a stroke, and my ears were functioning perfectly well.

 So, theoretically I'm a writer. And maybe that means I like words, but I also like seeing how much can be communicated without identifiable language. The overall tone feels like he's trying to explain something, doesn't it? Kind of fitting.

 And since I'm apparently getting traffic from Beeradvocate now, I thought I'd mention that I picked up one of these today.

 I have an unreasonable fondness for Smuttynose Brewing given that I've had as many hits from them as misses. Old Brown Dog? Hit. Finest Kind? Miss. Star Island? Hit. Winter Ale? Miss. Not saying that these are objectively good or bad, just that that's where my preferences have fallen.

Gravitation is either my first or second quad, and is an absolute hit in my book. This bottle is currently chilling (literally) next to the bottle of Really Old Brown Dog in the beer fridge downstairs. Kind of fruity with a bit of bubblegum and a big booziness. Gets to be a bit much as it warms up, but a delicious beer regardless.

 I think the more questionable thing is why I would link to what is ostensible a writing blog in my Beeradvocate profile. I think I was taking too narrow an approach; basically, I'm not just an amateur writer trying to catch a break, I'm also a guy who likes beer. And football. And cooking. Trying to present just one facet had started to feel really shortsighted and limiting.

It's Baseball Season

Not that I really care much. Theoretically I'm a Red Sox fan since I live in Massachusetts and I've been to Fenway a couple of times. Oh, and I'll root for the Sox if pressed. I used to be an Oakland A's fan years and years ago when they had Jose Canseco and Mark McGwire and Ricky Henderson. Kids like home runs.

And I just cleaned all of my old baseball cards out of the closet of the room I used to sleep in in my parents' house. According to the most recent price guide I could find, they're worth about the same now as they were when I started collecting them around 1990-91-ish.

I don't really have a team to follow, so I guess you could say I follow nostalgia. The only team I really give a damn about anymore is double-A's own New Britain Rock Cats. Not because I'm a Minnesota Twins fan (they're a Twins affiliate), obviously, but because of those roasted peanuts with the dust on them, the vaguely spicy nacho cheese they used to have, grandpa and grandma and my aunts and uncles and cousins and my mother and father who used to go to the games and still occasionally do. And I'm a fan because the park used to be so much bigger when I was a kid, but now that I'm small I realize there's not a bad seat in the relatively small house, and the fall from the back of the bleachers probably won't kill me.

I suppose the presence of beer doesn't hurt either.

They used to be a Red Sox team. Hell, they used to be the New Britain Red Sox. I remember feeling a little hurt when the change happened, but you get over things like that eventually.

Go Cats! Beat (insert team I'm not familiar with here)!