ADIS vs. Writers of the Future Results

And the results are . . . a not-win for "A Day in the Sun". That's the price you pay for shortness: ask any man under five feet tall and he'll tell you that it was his shortness as that held him back. I think that may be ADIS' problem too, in this competition. With a max word count of 17,ooo, other entries had as many as 13,000 more words to help them "sell" their story than ADIS, which came in at a short 3,904 words. Next stop for ADIS will be Kurt Vonnegut's Fiction Prize. With a word limit of 7,000, ADIS will be more of a competitor in the Fiction Prize. We shall see, anyways.

In light of my discovery that Writers of the Future winners all seem to be at least 9,000 words (usually more in the 14-16,000 range) I am considering putting a run of stories together under a single title and then calling each story Part 1: Bond of Truth, Part 2: The Wasted Portion, Part 3: To Turn on One's Own, etc. My only concern is that each "part" would read like an individual short story, and I have no desire to change that, meaning that I personally am okay with that. I would enjoy reading it, even if no one else did. Someone must like that kind of stuff or David Drake would still be practicing law instead of carrying on the career brought about by the Hammer's Slammers collection (which, though he did eventually write some Slammers novels, the first books were short story and novella collections).

In other new I have set to editing and revising Tales from the Laughing Grass now that I am on Winter Break. It is going a little slower than I had hoped, but I have been enjoying going back through those stories. It has been very encouraging.

Write On

R.

"Culture of Conflict" Update and Army of Anyone

Not a loser, not a loser, not a loser. Just thought I would let you know that the judges thought so highly of the entries (including CoC) that they only gave out two of three places. So, CoC might have taken 3rd, but they didn't think it deserved it. We'll never know. I should have let them choke on "An Evening with the Quill", but it's all in the past now.

In more positive news, I have been listening to Army of Anyone and enjoying it immensely. It is the amalgamation of the DeLeo brothers from STP and that Patrick guy from Filter (you know, the guys that do "Hey man, Nice Shot" or whatever it's called), along with David Lee Roth's old drummer Loozer, or Luzier, or something like that. You might be thinking "Wow, he must be an old guy if he played with David Lee Roth" but I don't know what era of DLR he played in, and however old he is he really pounds the skins. This is something that I have looked for in drummers ever since playing with that limp-sticked protestant with LH back in the summer of 2001. But the Patrick guy does some decent to excellent, and his lyrics make one-billion times more sense than anything (almost, at least) that Scott Weind (SP?) ever wrote even if he doesn't quite have the voice. The DeLeos are playing as fine as ever, the music structurally reminds me more of Tiny Music than Core or Purple, but it is mixed more thickly and not so many single-coil guitars (like Shangria La Dida). Overall I am enjoying the overall effect. So check it out, if you dare.

I am feeling pretty excited to start revising Tales from the Laughing Grass this break. CoC not winning is just a hiccup in my master plan, so expect to see more and better from the old R. Write On.

R.

To Win, or Not to Win

Just in case you were wondering to yourself, "Self, I wonder how R's story CoC did in that one contest?" and then you had to think about which contest because it seems like R has stuff scattered all over the place right now, I have news, or at least some convincing gossip. A peer of mine found out that he took 2nd Place middle of last week. So either my victory letter ended up at the mailman's house or I got SHOT DOWN like a Cobra attack copter vs. an insurgent with a rocket launcher. I make it sound more traumatic than it really is, I'm sure. It may be that I am the absolute sorest loser any of my friends have had the misfortune of playing Katan, Axis & Allies, MERP, Yahtzee, or any other assorted game with, but my motto today is Not Winning is Different than Losing. That's right. It's the road I'm driving today.

In other news, my Custer paper kicked my professor upside the head like Bruce Lee, or Chuck Norris, or at least like Jackie Chan. Based on the rave reviews the Cather paper received, I don't think I shall post it because we all know Cather is way more interesting than the Battle of Little Big Horn. Or close at least. I can only imagine what html will do to footnotes. It might be worth posting just to find out.

In yet more news, I resolved the romance issue in novel #1 (which I think I will call The Big Smackdown) when I gave my story "To Turn on One's Own" a good looking over. I won't bother you with the details, but I think it will add a nice dynamic tension to the situation. So there you have it.

Don't be afraid to Rock, and Write On.

R.

Speculation from a Lit Major

I wonder if it is requisite that to be a true Lit major a person has to learn to over-read perfectly enjoyable stories and poems by fine artists. Feel free to check out the elegant lines of Marianne Moore's poetry, if you will. It is moving, but sometimes a lizard is just a lizard, and a vase is just a vase. But if you see the deeper meaning, as my classmates did, I am happy for you. I think some works can possess multiple layers of allegory and meaning, however, I did not catch the vision tonight. I suppose that is the way it goes sometimes.

So now that I've ranted about over-analysis, get ready for me to post my study of four works by Willa Cather. If it doesn't convince you to take up the English Lit banner then . . . well, that doesn't really mean anything. Write on.

R.

I think I should re-emphasize that Moore's poetry is excellent, and her word use is superb, so do check out some of her poetry.

To Turn on One's Own - Don't Read it While Eating

I completed towards the end of last week a draft of To Turn on One's Own, which came in a meaty 3,904 words. I won't elaborate on my advice, save to say that I restrained my artistic expression in the hut scene for those of you that might experience an enjoyment breakdown from descriptions of . . . shall we call it yucky stuff? So it will hopefully turn out as well as some as some of my others once it has been revised a few times. I enjoyed writing it and am pleased with the substance. For good or bad a full third of it is action, with the pre-captain being shown a good time by an ambitious squad-mate. If that isn't tempting enough there will be some trick riding, some intentional repetition, and a drawing up of lines.

I think I will post my Cather paper next time, but I think it may be a touch dry and formal for this setting. Any thoughts? I'd like to see a comment from Zilla, the sneaky blog reader who claims his internet isn't working and that is why he couldn't comment about something. But I'd like to see world peace too, like Pryderi from The High King, or world piece, like my own personal island nation, but I digress.

Good luck, and Write On

R.

Upcoming Posts

For those of you who keep up here I wanted to let you know that, dependent on how busy I am at work, I intend to write some analysis on Willa Cather's O Pioneers (1913) and Edith Wharton's Age of Innocence (1920). I might also share some thoughts on poetry by Ezra Pound and W.C. Williams, but there is probably other things I would rather post about.

Not the least of which is my newest story, To Turn on One's Own, which I have almost completed a draft of. It will be longer that my most recent tales, probably sitting in that sweet 2500-5000 word range that I seem to fall in. It is another pre- captain story, and hopefully it will be mighty satisfying to them as that read it.

And a quick or not-so-quick question for those of you up to answering it. I've made most of you aware of my intention to start working on the(or a) novel in January. Chronologically this first novel will fall somewhere between the stories Pluck This Jewel . . . and Resurrection. That may or may not mean anything to you, but that is what prompts the aforementioned question. When you read a book, how important is the romantic (romantic as in the lover relationship, as opposed to romantic taking liberties with reality, as in the British Romantic Period in Literature, which had little to do with being in love) element? I am assuming that you do not pick up books that would be considered romances (ie. Harlequin Romance novels) but you might, I suppose. Have you ever read a book where the relationship focus was on friendships rather than romance? If so, what was it and how did you feel about it? Did it rate with a similar book that had a romance element? I hope that you will consider my questions, because I would like to know what you think. If you are not comfortable leaving your answer as a comment feel welcome to e-mail me with it, but please comment and let me and the others know that that is what you are doing. I appreciate all of your support, I don't think I would be making the progress that I am without you.

R

Contest Entry received and Another New Story - A Question of Courage

After the post I just made regarding my anxiety over ADIS being lost in the mail I almost immediately received this from WotF:


"This is to inform you that your story has been received and entered in the L. Ron Hubbard Writers of the Future Contest, quarter ending September 30th. Please allow 8 to 10 weeks after the quarter deadline for judging results to finalize. Good Luck! Judy, Contest Administrator"

So ADIS is really going to face the slap down on a national level this quarter. Hopefully it will represent itself with dignity win or lose, something I have yet to master myself.

Coming in at a little over 1300 words, my new tale, A Question of Courage, is yet another eccentric story of the un-epic. I am not sure I know what else to say about it, really. It came to me and I wrote it, or it tickled my fancy and I decided to scratch. In any case I cannot deny that it is there in its un-majestic way.

In other news, I find that I am liking some odd songs lately, ones that might in another age have bugged me. Lose Control by Evanescence is one, Eye by the Smashing Pumkins is another (however for SP there is no song better than Drown), and 37mm by AFI all have this rock/techno element that I know in past years I have probably railed against. Anyways, I recommend checking those tunes out if you get a chance.

R.

New Story - The Wasted Portion

Yesterday I finished a draft of a little tale I call The Wasted Portion, a 908 word story of horror on the Laughing Grass hopefully worthy of its Halloween morning conclusion. It won't scare anyone, not a single one, though the squeamish might feel thoroughly disturbed (and I'm talking mighty squeamish here, I think we can all agree that understatement is a major factor in my writing). It takes the good Captain back to his early days riding for the Prince.

Some thoughts that have come from a few sources of feedback - Suppose you have grabbed your scythe (it's that thing the Grim Reaper holds, related to the sickle if you didn't know) and headed out the door. You walk to this place where something is growing: wheat, grass, weeds, corn stalks, kudzu, or whatever (it doesn't even matter to me, just picture something vividly with your mind's eye). Now you take your scythe and send it through the growth causing stalks of whatever you have envisioned crashing down. You look up and your neighbor (who isn't really retarded, maybe he is just a salesman for the leading supplier of building material in the country) pulls up on his wagon, the bed of which shows not a single mar from carrying anything but him around in it. He says, "What is it that you are doing, _____?" You then reply, "What does it look like I'm doing? I'm ______."

I originally used the term "mowing" but felt some pushback from a reader on the matter. Technically the exact use of which I speak of was "recently mowed." I have changed that to "recently scythed." If you think that sounds lame, know that I do too. The reader complaint is that the term "mowed/mow/mowing" came after the lawn-mower and are not appropriate for the context. The great Willa Cather uses the term "mowing" to describe Emil (I'm pretty sure that is his name) taking his scythe to the grass at the family cemetery as "mowing" in Oh, Pioneers which was published in 1913 (I'm pretty sure). The first mechanical mowers were made in the mid-1800's and were usually horse-drawn in those days, which makes my argument using Cather a little weaker. I have not found a paper dictionary at this point, but if you look for the definition of "mow" online you get a dozen variations of "to cut with a blade or mower." So anyways . . . does anybody have a sure knowledge of what they called cutting crap down before the invention of the mower? I think the term "mow is older than the mower or it would have never been called a "mower" and the wheat and stuff that you cut down and stick in the barn wouldn't be called "mow." In the end, what do I know? I only write here.

In other news my grew very excited when I opened my mailbox today and there was an e-mail from WotF. Much to my dismay it was only a newsletter. I wrote them about a week ago to see if ADIS was lost in the mail (since I received a confirmation e-mail for TEC twelve days after the cut-off date). They wrote back and said they are still sorting, but I really want to know. Did ADIS make it or not? So that is my WotF update.

I think my recent burst of super-short stories (maybe incredibly short stories would be more accurate, since my first suggestion implies that they might have powers beyond that of a mortal short story) has to do with my schedule/available time situation and the fact that all the complaining I did about the Writing Center lowering the word count caused me to think of some really basic elements of my stories. They are somewhat liberating in that I can write about a snapshot in time that might take up too much room if I tried to stick it in another short story but that I would still enjoy exploring.

I have really gone on and on. I think this may be my longest post in quite a while. Anyways, thanks to all for your support, suggestions, and general love/friendship/encouragement.

R.

New Story - The Fork

Last week I pounded out a 765 word story--my shortest story ever. Today someone read it and asked why I wrote it. I told that person that the whim was upon me. Isn't that enough?

R.

Remembering the Metaphor

I've been reminded recently of the time, not long ago, when my story Two-Edged Choice was shot down like the Clanton Gang by that aforementioned scholastic publication. I like to tell myself that it was merely the word count (more than 200 words too long) that disqualified it from the beginning, and that it had nothing to do with the story or writing. Of course it could be that the judges were genre bigots.

R.

Two-Edged Choice Judging Results

Dear Entrant,
Thank you for entering the L. Ron Hubbard Writers of the Future Contest. Your entry did not place in the final selections for the 3rd quarter 2006 (April 1 - June 30, 2006).

We commend your effort and hope that you will submit another entry for the next quarter. The deadline is by postmark.

We wish you the best of luck on your next entry!

Sincerely,

Contest Administrator


So there you have it. I can't say that I am surprised--when I didn't hear anything after twelve weeks and judging is supposed to be done in eight to ten I knew the score. ADIS is a better story anyway, so here's to this quarter.

R.

Prose vs. Content

Well, the call for papers has been issued for the Writing Center Contest. The twinge of excitement I initially felt upon seeing the flyer died within me when I saw that they changed the maximum word count from 2,000 words last year to 1,250 this year. Why would they do such a thing? Who can write a story of substance in that few words? (A Very Short Story by Ernest Hemingway doesn't count, because he was a short story writing animal) So I wrote a metaphor of the contest, which that amazing group of friends and relatives that take the time to edit my stories has in their hands. It is my intention to submit it at exactly 1,250 words. Who's passive aggressive? Of course, my metaphor could stink, and I have never been known for my prose, so...

Also I finished a draft of Pluck This Jewel..., that long awaited finale to the Jeris Trilogy (It's not officially called the Jeris Trilogy. It's just a story cluster that includes Toll Man, The Traveler's Gift, and Pluck This Jewel...). I laughed, I cried, but since I was sitting in American Realism in Literature while I was doing it I had to be very quiet in my emotions. A classmate said, "I am amazed at the quantity and form of the notes you take in class." Yes, quantity and form are what I am all about. That's why Pluck This Jewel... will hurt like a case of the hemorrhoids and a sneezing fit. So there you have it.

R.

P.S. The new Evanescence is weird as 7734. I'm sure it will grow on me though, like a leech or a fungus.

In the Mail...

Well, the moment has come and A Day in the Sun is safely in the mail on its way to LA. I wanted to post that for them as that wanted a follow up on where ADIS is at in the world. I also wanted to take a moment to show some appreciation. I have no illusions of grandeur: Writers of the Future is a national contest that undoubtedly receives thousands of entries every quarter with no restrictions on age or education. That’s a lot of PhD wielding sci-fi slingers to face off against for the R. I do have hope though, because of the reaction of people, also with a variety of age, education, and interest levels, who have read the story. Their encouragement is invaluable. A lot of work went into ADIS, by myself and others who really took off their jackets, rolled up their sleeves, and tore into this story. I want to say thank you to those that have added their efforts to mine to make ADIS the best story it could be. I will not name you and throw your names out into cyberspace, but you know who you are. If I have been the husband, friend, and brother that I try to be then you know. But I would like to stand before you (even though I am actually hidden behind this shield of 0’s and 1’s) and give my appreciation for helping me to have this chance, slim though it may be. Thank you.

R.

A Day in the Sun

Last night I finished what could possibly be a W0tF submittable draft of ADIS. I am feeling pretty excited about that. While there are surely technical problems with it I am waiting for my trusted advisors' feedback on whether there are gross errors and the like. It feels good to be this close to having a final draft of that story. There are them as that think it's my best so far, and while I hope that isn't true it is encouraging the way that story seems to appeal to so many people.

R.

WotF Submission

I have decided to submit A Day in the Sun to Writers of the Future this quarter. I don't necessarily think it is my best story, but it is the story that I have recieved the most feedback on and so I feel like I will be able to produce the best draft from that in the time I have available to me.

R.

Do I have A Blog or Not

Hello? Blog? Can you hear me? Is there anybody listening, like in that song by Queensryche? Come back, little bloggy.

R.

Favorite Part

As I thought about all I have written this summer, I decided the part I like best was the part with the horse.

R.

Stories and Contests

I am still struggling to get Pluck This Jewel... written for the story collection. I feel it is an important piece after the un-resolution at the end of The Traveler's Gift and important for the whole. It will be interesting to see how long it takes me to finish it with school going.

Much to my surprise the weeks have flown by and it is time for me to start thinking about my entry for this quarter's Writers of the Future contest entry. As I have stated in earlier posts I have forced myself to finish a first draft and start the next story through the summer. That means that I need to get a story revised and mailed by the last day of September. So...if you have an opinion as to which of my stories I should get ready for this go around I would welcome and appreciate the input. Without any feedback I lean towards Toll Man or Culture of Conflict (formerly known as Losing Some Fluids). Would one of those a good entry make? Who knows...I only write here.

R.

Nickel Creek and the Beginning of School

So a few weekends ago we went to GJ and watched Nickel Creek play the Avalon. They were incredible; I thought they were hilirarious while Elyena thought they were dorks, but I liked that they played well and didn't take themselves to seriously. They played a lot of material from Why Should the Fire Die? which gave us a better appreciation of it. They did some covers, like Short People (which they inserted into the middle of the Smoothie Song), the Britney Spears song Toxic (which caused a few old folks to walk out in amazement and disgust (damn kids these days)). For their solo spots Chris played some Bach on his mandolin, Sean played an acoustic guitar version of Jealous Guy by John Lennon (a new favorite for me, the acoustic version that is), and Sarah did a song of Linda Ronstadt's Greatest Hits, but I am not sure of the name. They also covered Take a Load Off Sally, and played a song off Chris' solo record as well as one from the upright bass player's album, Mark Stedt I think his name is. It made me want to bust out my acoustic and play away.

Of course then comes the school part and the reason that I didn't bust out the acoustic. Ah, well. At least I have mostly good classes. American Military History to 1917, Ancient American History, some American Lit classes (Realism/Naturalism and Modern era), (do you sense a theme? It wasn't intentional) and a Botany class called Environment Appreciation. So far they are pretty good.

R.

A Case of Mistaken Identity

Yes, this truly happened. Shame on me for writing with my eyes closed. Names have been deleted to protect the victim.

My unsuspecting friend: So do you do bids just for Jeff, or for other people too?
me: I'm usually too busy to do them for anyone else, but the other ISS do them for whoever needs them.
Me: I'd like to bid you.
My unsuspecting friend: What for?
Me: To show you my skill at going through you from front to back, paying close attention to all of the details.
My suspecting friend: I feel creepy.

It reminds me of one time when I walked out of a public restroom and a guy outside said, "Did you notice anything strange about that bathroom?"

I said, "You know, (lightbulb) I noticed they didn't have any urinals in there." The guy nodded at me, my idiocy apparent on his face as he pointed to the women's restroom sign.

If there are two things the old R is good at, it's getting into accidents and embarrassing situations. If that doesn't call for the old 'So be it..." I don't know what does.

R.

Jock Straps and Tales of Woe

I'm not sure if you have ever considered it, but being sales support is a lot like being athletic support: both have to cover the...

But I digress. The stories are still flowing. My honey and I sat down and looked at what's needed to fill out the collection; it looks like six more stories will round it out nicely. It was a bit of a dilemma figuring out what to do because I want the collection to read like like a series of short stories, not a really bad novel. Based on that I am going to hit some obscure events that should smooth out the transitions between story clusters (like the ADIS - GBO cluster, or the TM - TTG - PTJ cluster) and to balance out the stand alone stories with the obviously followed up stories. So six more stories and it will be time to revise with a vengeance.

R.

New Story - Gambler's Luck

I have completed this beast at last, my long short-story. It came in at 7945 words, 15 pages. It was rather hellish to write, but it's gotten good responses so far. I'm so glad to be done with that one I could shake my booty like Ella Enchanted. There is love (of a sort), there is hate, there is intrigue (if you want to call it that), and there is a tower rescue (sort of, but not really). I should note that I had to stop and write another story in the middle of this one. That doesn't really matter on any level, but I wanted to make it clear, or semi-transparent at least.

R.

Lost Opportunities and Personnel Changes

Our bambino ripped us from sleep at 5:05 this morning. I laid in bed coughing because I'm down with the sickness like the guy in that song by Disturbed, keeping my honey and the baby awake until I finally decided to get up and go to work early. It is too bad I didn't just get up and write; I am making progress (too slow to call it good progress) on what I feel will be a good story, one of my best I hope. "Water over the dam or under the bridge or however you want to put it." I just have too much to write and not enough time, and when I have time I don't always use it to my advantage. My wife says that I should be grateful that I don't suffer writer's block, but not getting the stories I have written is equally frustrating in my opinion. Enough on that I suppose.

There have been some changes at the corporate beast that writes my check even as it devours the world; my moody young compadre has taken a job for one of our customers and is moving on, bringing in a new inexperienced but enthusiastic person. It will be very interesting to see how it goes. I wish I could support my family writing.

R.

I Think I'm Addicted to AFI...

Work is a super bummer. I had my annual review today. I received satisfactory remarks on every level, and it earned me my 3% cost of living raise. I imagine a CEO or regional manager making six figures coming up with the idea that a flat percentage raise was the fair way to go; that way the $16,640 forklift operator would be happy knowing that his $520 raise was actually equal to the $3,092.78 raise that went to their $100,000 dollar corporate counterpart. It's right there in the math: 3% for each of them. Just something that's on my mind today.

R.

Addendum to Conan Analysis

After working through a few more of Howard's Conan stories I have to modify my last comment on the matter. Although I feel that Conan felt strongly toward Belit, in other stories he does take to the sea again. Whether it shows him to have moved on, or that he never truly loved Belit I haven't decided. I thought I should note it, however, for any who have not read Howard's stories, or just some of them.

R.

Raised Awareness

If there is one thing that I have gained from my blogging experience it is acute sense of isolation. At first it was liberating to say what I wanted without having to look at the blank stares of rejection of incomprehension, but now I feel like I am in space, sending out signal that may or may not be received in my lifetime. Is there life out there? I don't know.

R.

Grilled Cheese, Hold the Butter...

What have you got? That's right, crispy bread wrapped around a warm piece of cheese.

R.

Short Story Collection

By the time school starts again in August I will have a decent stack of short stories written at my current pace. I'll let someone else decide whether they are good or not but so far even my most critical feedback has been good. My plan is to write all I can this summer, revise over fall or winter break, then put together a collection for interested parties. The plan is still in it's infancy, but I've had several people request it. If anyone has ideas or suggestions on how to make it feasible, feel free to comment. I worked late last night on a story that looks like it could surpass Resurrection as the longest story so far in this series, but it is hard to say until the last line is written.

R.

A Nice Walk

So today I was on my way home from work and my car died. I walked about a mile and a half home in the same scorching heat that turns grass into straw here. What a bummer.

R.

Lawns in Utah

I find it ironic that I now live in the third dryest state in the union, and people grow grass like there is water here. The city wherein I dwell sent out a flier saying to water 2-3 times a week in twenty minute intervals. I do that and my lawn is yellow and crackly. How many times a week do my neighbors water? How about 5-7 days a week, for hours at a time. I wonder if they know the difference between Utah and Tennessee, you know, precipitation. It bugs me that people throw that much water on what is ultimately a symbol of "God couldn't make it grow here, but I can." I'll keep my yellow lawn.


R.

Horsey Horsey

I was looking at a few exotic horse colorations and I found a few worth checking out, if you are into that kind of thing; black varnish roan with spotted blanket (Appaloosa), strawberry dun, blue roan, grullo, any zebra dun. Do some image searches. These colorings can turn out incredibly.

R.

Response to Queen of the Black Coast

I just read Robert E. Howard's Queen of the Black Coast as it appears in The Coming of Conan the Cimmerian and wanted to put down some thoughts. First off, I think Howard had a serious grudge against the civilization and the effects it has on mankind. In QotBC this is demonstrated in the weakness of the civilized sailors in the face of the more barbaric pirates. Of course, Conan, the most barbaric of all, commences slaying and does not cease until Belit, leader of the pirates, throws herself at Conan's feet, having decided that such a speciman must be her life mate. It is also demonstrated in the endless success of the pirates attacks on countless ships, villages, and possibly towns. Then of course the final showdown between Conan and the fallen being, an evolution a persons Howard says are as far above man as man was above ape, persons that built wonders beyond man's reach or comprehension; and yet, when the time comes the wild barbarian slays the creature and all it's servants, establishing that civilization will always fall to the natural and wild man.

My second item of note has to do with Howard's less talk, more action approach. As I read the story I felt that the relationship was one sided, with Belit deeply infatuated with Conan, while he simply was along for the ride. At one point she tells him how not even death could keep her away from him if he were in need, a foreshadowing of the help she provides him in the final battle after her death. For Conan, once his enemies are slain he takes Belit's body back down the river and once it reaches the ocean he turns the ship into a pyre and sets it out to sea. Howard then reveals something about the barbarian: the sea is now empty and dead to him. To him, the sea was Belit, and without her he had no more desire to ride it's waves in search of adventure. And so in the end Conan stands and watches his love burn until the glow of the flames dissappears. I think it is a great example of the old adage "show, don't tell".

R.

5 o'clock and all's hell

That's right. I'm still inventorying away. I hear they might provide dinner; tortilla and water or something like that. Yummy.

R.

Physical Inventory

Inventory stinks like the fist in that song by Tool. If you don't know what I mean you are probably lucky.

R.

My knees are too tender...

I could never be a salesman. What more can I say?


R.

Welcome to my Lair

I really wanted someplace where I could vent and spew my thoughts. For now, the big R welcomes you (more appropriately it could be the short r, but that is misleading as well). I will try to be objective, because I like that, but sometimes I won't be. That's just the way of it I guess.

R.