P.I. MANNING RUN OVER BY A PICKUP TRUCK

I've been struggling again with the futuristic novel, and this morning, my frustrated gaze fell upon this short story, "The Pickup", whose first page is to the left. It's been sent out wandering 7 times over the years, but it's been a long time between the last time and now. So I went through it again, the third full revision, calked the holes in it, I hope, and put a fresh coat of paint on the old structure, w/o altering it's hidden naughtiness. I don't count as revisions all the times I've skimmed it for language. The tale's now on its merry way through the application, Submittable, to a large West Coast literary magazine in a transcendental city named after a Saint. These Spring days aren't the most favorable for sending to literary magazines supported by state institutions because most are shutting down for the Summer and won't be accepting again till in the Fall. However, I keep an eye on that detail and hope not to waste my time. Another publication would get my novelistic engine firing again, I'd think. I've got high hopes for it, then, again, I always do until it's been rejected several times more and comes back home with its tale [sic] between its legs.

GABBY HAYES: A CREDIT TO HIS LANGUAGE

Still working on Chapter 26 of Manning novel, but when that's finished, Chapter 27 is already completed. Before I move on to Chapter (or segment) 28, I'll capsulize those two chapters, and when I capsulize segments of my work for outline, I always feel completed, the sense of something accomplished. 

Found photo here:

Wow! You heard me. Wow! Sixty-six degrees today for my afternoon walk. The first day of sunny Spring, I calculate, because the breeze carried no chill with it. First time for that since last Fall. What a wonderful walk. Trees budding their angry red penes, and pink and white flowers on other trees.

Gabby Hayes

Now, dadblast* it, I still have to leave the house and go to Costco. Old age attack. I meant to go to Costco after my daily walk, before I came home from Black Rock where I spent several hours writing this morning, but I was daydreaming all the way home about this marvelous Spring day. 

*Thanks to Gabby Hayes for the friendly curse word. Also dad-gum, gol-durn and shucks. Or must we credit the cowardly, tail-wringing Lion in The Wizard of Oz for shucks? Or will just any old super-religious person in the past do?

FARTS BLOW AWAY, BEATNICK BOOMER REFRESHED

Me happily at work in the moment

In the Van Mall where I'll walk soon. Took half a morning here to download my "Silent Boomer" blog site on Blogger. A great morning. Broke through a month of writer's block. You readers may have caught a whiff of blockage in all my posts before this one. Lots of gaseous farting around with quavering "chin up and muster on" from the British films of my past. 

The way now opens into the next third—or more—of Manning—the secrets I'm keeping from the reader, the revelations and twisty turns of plot laid out before me in a rough order. It's congealing, the plot is. See many chapters ahead. My interest freshens. 

I may have mentioned this, but it bares repeating. By jotting down brief statements about Charley Manning's actions and thoughts and discoveries, the plot, as it comes to me, can be laid out in short statements through my main character:

1. Manning discovers that [   ] is not really on his side.
2. Manning learns that [   ] was killed by [   ]. [   ] does not know this, but [   ] does. 

That plotting device helps me remember and structure the book. I'm not revealing more. You won't buy the book when it comes out if you know all the surprises and twists. 

Today, I worked on Manning at the downtown Vancouver library, one of the three places I like most to write in when home feels too confining. The other two are Black Rock Coffee on 164th where I worked on Tuesday and Torque in downtown Vancouver where I worked yesterday morning. 

BEAT BOOMER BEATS WAY THROUGH WRITER'S BLOCKHEAD

Four days pass and another entry on this blog overdue. Lately I've been battling the urge to give up on the Manning novel. Over the last 15 years, I've started at least 6 lengthy projects only to have them die off at 50 to 150 pages. I'm at the 150 page mark with Manning, and I've had to fight through the urge to stop each day for a week now. My brain tells me it wants to go back to doing algebra problems as it did for 6 years every morning after I retired from Mackay Manufacturing. I was happy enough, slogging through math problems just a few years ago, then I get something published in Work Literary Magazine, and the whole yearning awakes again. 

Homes like this one...

This morning, however, I fought through my drab feelings and wrote anyway. Once I got started, I felt much better. Then the sun came out from behind the clouds, the temps reached into the 50s, and after three solid hours of writing, I put on a light jacket to enjoy an hour and a half walk through a neighborhood of people whose successes have allowed them to own very nice homes. For all my blue collar anger at wealthy Americans, those I meet on my walks in this neighborhood are very friendly and welcoming, even if it's no more than a "howdy" greeting. In fact, both greetings this morning were exactly that: "Howdy!"  

Where do they come from, I ask myself with that greeting.

BEAT BOOMER'S SILENT DAY TRIP

Felt so "dead" this morning, I couldn't force myself to work on the Manning novel. Instead, took a drive North into a rainy, gray landscape of hills and expensive homes, hunting for something. Back in Spokane, I used to drive into scab rock areas, seeking out roads marked as "Primitive" so I could enjoy this feeling of ... what?

Today, I realized I'd been hunting a specific "feeling". Some call that feeling a spiritual feeling. Modern religious people continually seek new churches ... they wish to get that spiritual high. They want to be moved. Popular music brings modern youths to those "spiritual" moments, just as the symphonic music moved me to tears a couple of weeks ago. Others have sought god in the wilderness and many have had experiences of transcendent power in a natural landscape.

Atheists, like myself, are no different. We like to feel "spiritual" experiences too. The fact that atheists can have transcendent experiences separate from the idea of a god is one proof that all highly charged emotional moments have nothing to do with god or gods or goddesses for that matter. The one is an idea; the other is a purely physical sensation.

The thing I keep in mind when I think about "religious" experiences is that all highs are universally accompanied by lows of a depth equal to the intensity of the high. In my experience, cycles of highs and lows signal an imbalance of feeling. Moderation in all things is the antidote to emotions run wild. Now, that said, will my urge to complete the Manning novel return or has Jorge Tomas reached another dead end? 

"Oh, Mama, can this really be the end
To be stuck inside of Vantucky
With the Memphis blues again?"

Read more: http://www.bobdylan.com/us/songs/stuck-inside-mobile-memphis-blues-again#ixzz2vDcFcRGI"

BEAT BOOMER'S BEATIFIC FEAST DAY: ART AND FOOD TOO

Full hungry artist day. Wife and I departed home 9:00 am for drive to Oswego where she attended Kosen Rufu, a monthly community meet of Soka Gakkai. Dropped me off at a Starbucks to write while she attended. I'm adding a section into segment 19. It's purpose is to present information directly through the lips of hit man, Johnny Dundee, rather than to have it summarized by Charley Manning in a later segment. This forced me to take material out of segment 23 which I'll have to go back to next and pull together, like healing a wound with professional job of stitching by an emergency room doctor. This week I believe I managed to write a minimum of an hour each day and for many hours longer. 

Bacon self portrait found here...

Mertie and I went next to eat a delicious lunch at vegan restaurant, Blossoming Lotus. I had a tofu, mushroom and spinach scramble with sides of home fries and kale. DELICIOUS! Then on to the Portland Art Museum where a touring exhibit of Venetian art, 16th through 18th centuries, is on display. YUMMY! Then downstairs to look at Bacon's triptych of friend Lucien Freud on display through March 31. SCRUMPTIOUS! Today was bursting with the taste of artfully prepared food and art itself. What a day. Tonight we plan to watch Nebraska, ending our day with a mouth watering Independent Film.

Recently I learned that "holding a glass of ice water" will temporarily influence the holder to "feel" the world and fellow humans as psychologically colder. I wonder if Bacon's name had something to do with his portraits of humans as slabs of beef? Who knows? More sensible things have proven to be real.