Title from a song from the band, Chvrches. They’re pretty good. Look ’em up.
Finally wrapping things up from this battle. There’s still much to be discovered: past and present. And: here and somewhere else. I pray I can see more through these shadows to write more. For those of you that swing that way, pray for me.
No one leaves comment! Is it broken? I shall try from my wife’s laptop, Togame, and see.
Below the fold? I see dead people.
[edited; because I’m sober, now]
Which is to say: so much on my plate: I’ve a rough of my childrens’ book for review, I’m still trying to finish my scale model of DDG-173, day-job, feeding my family…. YEARGH!
When do I get time off, tanj it?!
Below the fold, lots of things blow up.
A week since writing anything. I’d like to blame someone besides that SOB who’s picture keeps showing up on my driver’s license. Once more, my Machine Civilization love triangle is in a war zone. WTF am I thinking? If anyone knows, please let me know.
I’ve been a mix of both busy and lazy. I think that I’ve a possible work-around: on those days when I don’t have to make dinner for my family, I start drinking coffee at work at the end of the day. That way, I come home with the energy to write. Toss back some gin or rye while I let the dogs out, then I’ve the mental looseness to write.
Also, I was afraid that I couldn’t see how the battle was going to play out. End, yes. Play out? No. So: baby steps; break the problem down into manageable parts. So, here’s the part from Gil’s perspective. If I can talk my wife into getting pizza tomorrow night, I can get part 3 typed. Continue reading “Weak.”
Rye and coffee, but you get it. I’d originally planned to make this one big scene, but 1) I don’t write that way, and 2) my precedent from Part 1 broke the battle into sub-sections, too. I’m going to do that here, as well.
Oh: ten quatloos to the first one who guesses the title of my next post. The clue is the last word, below.
… I don’t think they’re going to attack. I could be wrong: it might be a huge loss of face for their chieftain to suddenly call this off, but there are ways. Knowing you’re about to break the tip of your spear is a great reason to call off a battle. Just how barbaric are they? I’ve no idea. But I suspect something else. We’ll see.
This episode was a pleasure to write! I hope I can keep it up for a bit until I can find a stop-point to Part III, allowing me to work on my kid’s book. I refuse to rush either.
Which is to say, this morning, my wife is no longer a cyborg: she had her port removed from her upper right chest. That was the mechanism through which she received her chemo back in January. While there is still a shade of doubt about her status, it was deemed healthy enough that her port be removed today. Unlike last time, 15 years ago, this was done under surgical conditions. Only took about 20 min, but the recovery was an hour, then me bringing her home an hour after that. Originally, I’d planned to return to work for half a day, but she was hurt and would be alone.
Screw work. She slept and I checked on her every 20 min. By 1400, she was stable enough for me to go get D&D (daughters and dogs) from the in-laws. By 1600, she was up and about on her own, but still a bit addled. I made Mapu Tofu for an early dinner, and afterwards retired to write what’s below. I think I might edit it, tomorrow.
Oh: belated thanks for all the ‘following’ and ‘likes’. I guess someday I’m going to have to turn this into a real book? Meh. Time be time, mon.
A co-worker who started reading “Defiant,” asked. “A love story,” I replied.
“How is this a love story?!”
Good question. It’s complicated. But then, what real love story isn’t? So, here’s a transition with the local captains. They’ve no more clue than I do as to what’s going on!
Wrote most of this a couple of nights ago, but have learned my lesson about posting from bed. I’m starting to enjoy the rhythm of this third segment: confusion from the POV of captain Muller versus Nichole’s quiet happiness of three days earlier. Of course, they’ll start to converge and/or overlap. Maybe. I’m looking forwards to what Nichole was thinking when she went all badass on the barbarian steppe leader… who’s not as much a barbarian as we’ve been lead to believe.
Coffee+Rye+Ideas.
Playing with them; ideas, that is. If you’ve not guessed, this sequence will be whiplash between current time at The Dalles and Nichole’s three day diary as they got there.
Mine, in other words. I shan’t apologize for the lack of posting, but I don’t mind explaining. At the end of the last episode, I thinking I knew what I wanted to do for the next sequence of the story. The issue was, it’s somewhat unorthodox. So I froze over the weekend before last. Monday and Tuesday brought busy day-job days of our bi-annual physical inventory. Friday, we as a family were off to northern Kentucky for a swim-meet. We’d also be meeting our good friend, and my girls’ Godfather, that we’d not seen in four years (he’d been living in East Asia; back in the ‘States now). Between the swimming during the day and the drinking at night, there was no time to write.
I was beginning to freak out about that.
I told my wife last night: I don’t care what you and girls are doing Monday night, unless the house, dogs, or people are on fire, I’m writing. What with that “less of an asshole” thing that writing grants me, she was fine with that.
Below is Ep 21. I’ve seen 22 and 23; if I can convince them to order pizza or something for the next two days, these should come out fairly quickly.
machciv 