Sunday, April 26, 2009

Move Along, Nothing Here

Nothing comes to mind. It is this nothingness which I have been fostering, creating, breathing life into. (Oh yeah, I'll end a sentence with a preposition. If Margaret Thatcher could go to war over the Falklands, I can use prepositions whenever I want.) But I was talking about nothingness.

It is the nothingness of inactivity, which is even worse than doing something which you hate. At least then you have something to write about, something to discuss, even something to hate. Hate is a poor choice. The worst choice. But it's still better than nothing. And nothing is exactly what I'm looking at.

I've been reading a book on writing beginnings. "Hooked" is a decent book. I'm glad that I spent the money on it. Still, it doesn't say much for your state of being when the best thing you did all week was read a good chunk of a not-large book on writing beginnings. On the other hand, my beginnings are becoming explosive. "Hot Damn," is the phrase which pops into mind. I'll give an example. It's an old one, mind you. One I haven't written the story/rant for yet. But I've revised it. Punched it up.

The little white dog was unhurt when Abigail swerved through four lanes of traffic to avoid it. Abi, however, was sent directly to Heaven. All good dog lovers get there.

Relieved, Abi saw that the only losses were the lives of three humans. Then her breath caught. A caterpillar also died. She was nearly sick, and on the spotless floors at that. Abi paused to grieve the never-butterfly, and Truffles, the little white dog, trotted into view. Heaven's whites grew whiter.

Sadly, Truffles rather enjoyed caterpillar.

Abi screamed. Truffles lifted a paw, and she inhaled. Then while looking heavenward, the little white dog began his descent into Hades. Abi paled and suddenly noticed three people who were doing nothing at all.

Is that not cool? Seriously. Tell me you don't want to hear more. What a wicked beginning. It begs for a scorching rant, or even a thoughtful discussion on the forgetfullness of Western society. And from that moment of glory I'm reminded again of the doom of nothingness. Funny, how my (the) mind works. Simple reality is, I've been floating. Coasting through life on my natural ability. One thing after another has come easily to me, or at least easy enough for me to get by with a minimum of effort. 

Laziness? Sure. But let's not forget the years of roofing, construction, farming, and property maintenance. Hard work isn't the issue. The issue is study, and not in the grade average kinda way. I've become so accustomed to everything coming easily, and simply ditching the few that don't, that I'm nearly unable to pick up the freaking torch and run when it drops into my lap.

I am the United Federation of Jason. Unmoveable. Like Castro and the US. Everyone else cares because it's David versus Goliath. It's easy to care. That, and single males generally get a high pity factor when it comes to food and lodging. And believe me. I'm not complaining. So why am I writing this? Am I bored? Or is it that I'm driven to create and if pushed really hard I'll even be honest. Such is the intensity of the desire within an otherwise reticent person.

Today I'm nearly homeless. Oh yeah, baby. It's gotten that good. The free and wild pirate life I shoot between my toes, unfortunately without the accompanying plunder to make me wealthy. This is my story: male, single on purpose, a life degenerating. Everyone needs to learn, but when you refuse to follow any rules it gets complicated. That, and when you are a sanctioned island it becomes difficult to visit. Without the life the outside brings, your guts shrink and slowly die.

Nothingness has brought me to nothing. With work and study this need not be permanent. But this is not a confession leading to repentance for my view of life. I love it. The freewheeling, carefree modus operandi which I embrace. But I acknowledge the need for continuing to study, and that requires placing aside whatever I must in order to achieve the goal. "Ay, there's the rub." A good story requires both a loss and a win.

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