On The Verge

Mark Hillary

Movie lines streamed and he fell for every woman he saw while en route to Heathrow on the Piccadilly line with the woman that just broke his heart.  [NYCMidnight Flash Fiction Contest 2010 Challenge 2.  Prompt:  Romance, Commuter Train, Ice Cream Cone]

With you by my side, I don’t need success.

Irving knew this was a line, but the line wasn’t his.  It streamed through his mind from memory like a Tourette syndrome obscenity.  Lines had been popping up all morning, lines like let’s get married again and you’re the geisha of my life. Lines came with each new woman he saw, each new jaw line, calf, and strand of hair.  Lines came as he stared about the half full train and projected himself into the future into an unknown life with each unknown woman.  At each stop, the women changed, new lines emerged.  At each stop, a new life was imagined.

Sore Egos

I’m currently participating in the NYC Midnight Flash Fiction challenge.  Round 1 was a month ago.  Round 2 is this weekend.  The results for Round 1 were posted a few days ago.  As anticipated, I didn’t do very well and was a little bummed with the results.  I placed 11th out of 20 in my group–prompt was political satire, recording studio, and air conditioner. (You can read my story here.)

I was down on myself when I saw the results, especially considering it will take a miracle to be able to make it past the 2nd round, but I figured my scoring was justified.  I saw the results late at night while scarfing down a Good Times burger after leaving the bars.  I said, “Whatever,” and went to bed.

Novel Update

As some may know, I’m in the middle of writing my first novel, called Old Friend Stranger. It’s not something I’m doing because I should or think I’d be good, but something I always wanted to do since I was a kid.  Regardless of how it turns out, I’m having fun.

Now, I don’t exactly know what it’s about. I mean, I do, but putting it into a nice coherent line, in under 150 words (what you’d send to an agent), is damn near impossible. If I do that, I find myself making broad, sweeping generalizations or I find myself focusing solely on one or two characters.

Obama Hating

An appeal to the haters.

[WARNING:  I'm not a political writer; this is terribly long and possibly terrible.  I wouldn't even consider this an opinion piece but more of a feelings dump.]

Today, I want to write about something completely unrelated to beer.  I want to talk about Obama.  Why?  Because I’m sick of all the haters.

Obama’s approval ratings are low.  The economy still sucks.  People aren’t happy about the health care bill (even though they probably should be).  They want to know where all the new jobs are.  And in November, there’s a chance Congress is going to get flipped back to the Republicans making his job that much harder (in my opinion) to the chagrin of this country.

Granted, I think we’re all missing the energy and zeal he brought during the campaign.  He needs to not be so freaking cool all the time.  He’s moderately incommunicative and cloistered and not delivering the big, emotional speeches and not holding our hands and telling us how we’re going to get through all this.  And sure, he’s made some pretty big political gaffes.  But truthfully, I’m still a big fan.

She Hates Ice

Library of Congress

Why Terence Trent D’Arby Can’t Sing. [2010 NYC Midnight Short Story Challenge 1 Entry]

The artist readies himself while the three engineers stare.  They stare at ice cubes bathed by soda in a clear plastic cup.  Two engineers fail to see a problem; one sees it clearly.  Jody.  She hates ice.  She looks at Tom, says, “Where’d you get it?”

Ice Story Recap

2010 NYC Midnight Short Story Contest – Challenge 1 (08/15/2010)

[Explanation (added a bit later):  NYC Midnight has a yearly short story contest.  It's 3 rounds and 4 challenges long.  All contestants (400+) are divided into 20 groups.  At midnight on a Friday, each group receives an assignment:  a genre, location, and object.  You have until Sunday at midnight to write a short story (1,000 words or less) based on the assignment.  The stories are judged...  There are multiple challenges, rounds.  Next challenge is in a month...]

Friday night, at bar: Assignment emailed to my phone.  I read it (political satire, recording studio, air conditioner), laugh.  I read out loud.  We all laugh. Ideas are given.

Saturday morning: I bust out a full-size moleskin.  I start a weird mind-map, don’t get far and find myself researching the history of the air conditioner.  I go to the toilet.  An idea about ice pops into my mind.  I don’t think this is going to be the story, but I write it down anyway. I flush the toilet.

11 Songs, 10 Beers

The Hold Steady’s Boys and Girls in America through beer.

Friends know I’m a huge fan of The Hold Steady.  I probably think about their music too much.  Hector and I are flying to Birmingham in September just to see them.  We were at their Ogden performance in June, and I’ve seen them two times before—once in Chicago at the Pitchfork Music Festival.

While jamming out on guitar to the song Chips Ahoy, a question popped into my mind:  What beer, if I were drinking, would I want right now?  In other words, what beer goes best with this song?

An answer didn’t immediately come to mind, but an idea did.  Could one perfectly pair a beer with a song?  Could I pair a beer to each song off of an album, or more specifically, a Hold Steady album, or more specifically still, the album Boys and Girls in America?

Page of Edits

After a productive afternoon of edits on this novel I’m working on, I sat back and thought:

Wow, that’s a lot of marking.  And if it’s even reasonably decent now, it must have been horrendous before. And, I’m probably going to look at these same pages tomorrow and think the exact same thing.  Bleck.

Why We Drink Beer

I will admit that just because man invented God doesn’t mean God doesn’t exist.  But in the end, I don’t see how it really matters.  The universe adheres to laws, always, without fail, and we are part of the universe.

That’s why we drink beer… And sometimes wine…

Apology

Yesterday, I blogged about a recent trip with friends to the new bar on Colfax, Uptown Brothers.  If you look down the screen, you’ll probably see it.  Unfortunately, the blog was complete dreck, utter garbage.  For those that had to suffer through it, I apologize.  My bad writing not only wasted readers’ time, but it also did not reflect well on the subject or the other participants in the trip.

Today, I have attempted to correct my mistakes.  I’ve done a rewrite.  Though far from being my best work or even close to the level of other beer bloggers in the world, I think it vastly improved and hopefully, now, somewhat enjoyable.

Please give it a go and let me know what you think.