Ciao, Tutti!
I have some great news. The website for the installation project, codenamed Eternal Christmas (a little better than Christmas Forever), is up and operational! I'm actually floored by the quality of the site design by Christopher Lee, the same dude who designed the Flaming Fire site, as well as playing second bass and percussion in the band (we have two bassists in this band. Isn't that cool?). I'm posting the link below as well as the left-hand side of the blog for your viewing pleasure.
In other news - THANKSGIVING IS TOMORROW!
-Sam goldsmith
http://www.eternalchristmas.org/
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
Flaming Fire Installation Site Is Here To Stay!
Ciao, Tutti!
On November 14, I posted that the installation project for Flaming Fire's Eternal Christmas had fallen through. Well, you can finally turn those frowns upside down! We just visited the space for the first time tonight with a whole bunch of folks who are going to make it happen. And it WILL happen. The opening party date is set for December 4, and Flaming Fire itself should perform there once or twice, probably on Wednesday, the 9th of December. The space is large and wonderful and has a basement with a low ceiling that I gave my head a bruise on. And there is also (get this!) an outdoor garden we are allowed to use, and maybe even perform live in! Isn't that sweet?
Speaking of sweet things having to do with this, I am (apparently) going to be curating a writer's day. We are thinking about doing it each Sunday during the day, and one of those Sundays will be mine, all mine. Imagine my evil grin as I rub my hands together - I rule the space for however long Sunday day is! Oh, you mortals will regret the day you bestowed power upon me!
Ahem.
Time to start contacting some writers who might be interested! And don't forget to have a happy Thanksgiving.
-Sam goldsmith
On November 14, I posted that the installation project for Flaming Fire's Eternal Christmas had fallen through. Well, you can finally turn those frowns upside down! We just visited the space for the first time tonight with a whole bunch of folks who are going to make it happen. And it WILL happen. The opening party date is set for December 4, and Flaming Fire itself should perform there once or twice, probably on Wednesday, the 9th of December. The space is large and wonderful and has a basement with a low ceiling that I gave my head a bruise on. And there is also (get this!) an outdoor garden we are allowed to use, and maybe even perform live in! Isn't that sweet?
Speaking of sweet things having to do with this, I am (apparently) going to be curating a writer's day. We are thinking about doing it each Sunday during the day, and one of those Sundays will be mine, all mine. Imagine my evil grin as I rub my hands together - I rule the space for however long Sunday day is! Oh, you mortals will regret the day you bestowed power upon me!
Ahem.
Time to start contacting some writers who might be interested! And don't forget to have a happy Thanksgiving.
-Sam goldsmith
Sunday, November 22, 2009
Okay, I'm sick of Typing (But not so much that I won't write this blog)
Ciao, Tutti!
I've now written 207 pages of my novel in 22 days . It's been a ton of fun, but it's also been more than a little exhausting, especially since I'm not all that good at typing.
Anyway, I've already posted two excerpts, both from the first 50 pages, and I figure I should post again now that I've written another 150. Unedited, as Nanowrimo intended, of course. Then it's back to my research paper!
I can't wait for Thanksgiving.
"Outside the Crystal" pg 160
Braden was awake the next morning before anyone else, he thought. He got out of bed and cracked the joints in his back, then trudged over to the main room where he made himself a pot of coffee. He ran his fingers through his hair as the machine worked, and he checked how much time was left every few seconds. Eventually he gave up trying and closed his eyes, leaning against the refrigerator door. When the coffee maker beeped it made Braden jolt upright, like he hadn’t realized he was asleep. He tried whacking the coffee machine like it was an alarm clock, yawned, and poured himself a cup. Raychel could smell it from where she was. Coffee was one of those Brodaw things she had never quite gotten used to. She preferred tea.
She watched him walk over to the sofa and crash down on it, spilling a spot onto his wrist, which made him wince and transfer the cup to his offhand, sucking himself where he had been burned. Settled down now, he slowly drank from his mug, fondling the scar under his eye with his fingers between sips. The scar had almost healed, but a thin line the same color of his skin certainly showed in the middle of his bags.
“Would you like some fruit?” Raychel asked. She stood up.
“No thanks,” he said. His voice was harsh, and he had to clear his throat. “I’m fine.”
Raychel knew he hadn’t seen her there, but he didn’t act surprised to see her. She shrugged and walked over to the refrigerator, shining her hand through the air to connect with the door and open it before she arrived. “Are you always up this early?”
“Most of the time,” she said. She dug through the bowl on the bottom shelf and pulled out an apple. “I like to meditate with the sunrise. I always have, even when you hid me.” She was disappointed he had never noticed before.
“You must be tired,” he said.
“Not really.” She tossed the apple away from her, then shinder her fingers through the air to catch it before it reached the floor. It was a little exercise she liked to do to stay sharp. “The meditation is pretty relaxing.”
“Mm.” Braden sipped his coffee.
“You’re not usually awake this early,” said Raychel. She nibbled at the apple.
“There’s a lot on my mind.” Braden balanced the cup between his knees and, with the utmost care, stretched his arms up, taking what sounded like a relieving yawn that would be enough to banish evil spirits from his soul. “There’s always a lot on my mind, but this time there’s more. I think the triangle and circle gang is making its move. Harbor Mason showing up, alone, was not an accident.”
“And I’m sure fighting is easier without sleeping,” said Raychel sarcastically.
“I’ve been on edge a lot lately, is what I’m trying to say.”
At that moment Raychel wanted to walk across the room and sit behind Braden and rub his shoulders to move the tension away from him, but all she said was, “Let me know if there’s anything I can do.”
“You can let me do all the worrying,” he responded. “And you can make up for my lack of sleep.”
Raychel rolled her eyes, suddenly agitated. “You’re always trying to do things yourself like that,” she scolded in her slow, patient voice. “You’re like Aber, risking himself for our sakes. But I can help you. Are you too stressed out to notice that I want to help?”
Braden looked deep into Raychel’s purple eyes, without raising his head all the way, looking tired and sad. “Raychel, there was a time in my life when all I ever noticed was you.”
Raychel didn’t know how to respond to this, so Braden got his way again.
She thought about the conversation while she and Cora worked together in the kitchen at the food center, the Hero Team minus one donating their couple of hours of community service together. She liked to replay the sentence in her mind over and over, because it made her shiver with excitement. “There was a time in my life when all I ever noticed was you.” Shiver. “There was a time in my life when all I ever noticed was you.” Shiver.
To be continued...
Fun fact: This passage ended on word 49,500. That's as close to 50,000 you'll ever get on this blog.
Okay, I know you don't care about that. But I love me my statistics, which is part of the reason Nanowrimo-style writing works so well for me.
I want turkey!
-Sam goldsmith
P.S. I've always been meaning to post something about how awesome Brother Ali's new CD, "Us," is. I'll get around to it as some point...
I've now written 207 pages of my novel in 22 days . It's been a ton of fun, but it's also been more than a little exhausting, especially since I'm not all that good at typing.
Anyway, I've already posted two excerpts, both from the first 50 pages, and I figure I should post again now that I've written another 150. Unedited, as Nanowrimo intended, of course. Then it's back to my research paper!
I can't wait for Thanksgiving.
"Outside the Crystal" pg 160
Braden was awake the next morning before anyone else, he thought. He got out of bed and cracked the joints in his back, then trudged over to the main room where he made himself a pot of coffee. He ran his fingers through his hair as the machine worked, and he checked how much time was left every few seconds. Eventually he gave up trying and closed his eyes, leaning against the refrigerator door. When the coffee maker beeped it made Braden jolt upright, like he hadn’t realized he was asleep. He tried whacking the coffee machine like it was an alarm clock, yawned, and poured himself a cup. Raychel could smell it from where she was. Coffee was one of those Brodaw things she had never quite gotten used to. She preferred tea.
She watched him walk over to the sofa and crash down on it, spilling a spot onto his wrist, which made him wince and transfer the cup to his offhand, sucking himself where he had been burned. Settled down now, he slowly drank from his mug, fondling the scar under his eye with his fingers between sips. The scar had almost healed, but a thin line the same color of his skin certainly showed in the middle of his bags.
“Would you like some fruit?” Raychel asked. She stood up.
“No thanks,” he said. His voice was harsh, and he had to clear his throat. “I’m fine.”
Raychel knew he hadn’t seen her there, but he didn’t act surprised to see her. She shrugged and walked over to the refrigerator, shining her hand through the air to connect with the door and open it before she arrived. “Are you always up this early?”
“Most of the time,” she said. She dug through the bowl on the bottom shelf and pulled out an apple. “I like to meditate with the sunrise. I always have, even when you hid me.” She was disappointed he had never noticed before.
“You must be tired,” he said.
“Not really.” She tossed the apple away from her, then shinder her fingers through the air to catch it before it reached the floor. It was a little exercise she liked to do to stay sharp. “The meditation is pretty relaxing.”
“Mm.” Braden sipped his coffee.
“You’re not usually awake this early,” said Raychel. She nibbled at the apple.
“There’s a lot on my mind.” Braden balanced the cup between his knees and, with the utmost care, stretched his arms up, taking what sounded like a relieving yawn that would be enough to banish evil spirits from his soul. “There’s always a lot on my mind, but this time there’s more. I think the triangle and circle gang is making its move. Harbor Mason showing up, alone, was not an accident.”
“And I’m sure fighting is easier without sleeping,” said Raychel sarcastically.
“I’ve been on edge a lot lately, is what I’m trying to say.”
At that moment Raychel wanted to walk across the room and sit behind Braden and rub his shoulders to move the tension away from him, but all she said was, “Let me know if there’s anything I can do.”
“You can let me do all the worrying,” he responded. “And you can make up for my lack of sleep.”
Raychel rolled her eyes, suddenly agitated. “You’re always trying to do things yourself like that,” she scolded in her slow, patient voice. “You’re like Aber, risking himself for our sakes. But I can help you. Are you too stressed out to notice that I want to help?”
Braden looked deep into Raychel’s purple eyes, without raising his head all the way, looking tired and sad. “Raychel, there was a time in my life when all I ever noticed was you.”
Raychel didn’t know how to respond to this, so Braden got his way again.
She thought about the conversation while she and Cora worked together in the kitchen at the food center, the Hero Team minus one donating their couple of hours of community service together. She liked to replay the sentence in her mind over and over, because it made her shiver with excitement. “There was a time in my life when all I ever noticed was you.” Shiver. “There was a time in my life when all I ever noticed was you.” Shiver.
To be continued...
Fun fact: This passage ended on word 49,500. That's as close to 50,000 you'll ever get on this blog.
Okay, I know you don't care about that. But I love me my statistics, which is part of the reason Nanowrimo-style writing works so well for me.
I want turkey!
-Sam goldsmith
P.S. I've always been meaning to post something about how awesome Brother Ali's new CD, "Us," is. I'll get around to it as some point...
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
Nanowrimo is history!
Ciao, Tutti!
Just here to let you know I made it to 50,000 words. I have met the challenge for three out of the past four years! And the time I failed was only because my computer crashed! (I would've had 65,000 otherwise)
But that's not to say I'm going to be done novelling. Nanowrimo winners (that's me!) get the opportunity to get a professionally bound copy of their finished book for free, just because I we reached 50,000! 'Aint that sweet? But I have to submit my manuscript in December, so that means I have to finish the plot of my novel by then, not just the first 50,000 words! And hopefully I'll get a chance to edit some of it, too!
I can tell my parents will love this idea. Almost as much as they loved that tattoo I got. Oh, wait. I haven't told anyone about that yet.
Ahem.
-Sam goldsmith
P.S. The comments option has been enabled. Feel free to congratulate me on my accomplishment there.
Just here to let you know I made it to 50,000 words. I have met the challenge for three out of the past four years! And the time I failed was only because my computer crashed! (I would've had 65,000 otherwise)
But that's not to say I'm going to be done novelling. Nanowrimo winners (that's me!) get the opportunity to get a professionally bound copy of their finished book for free, just because I we reached 50,000! 'Aint that sweet? But I have to submit my manuscript in December, so that means I have to finish the plot of my novel by then, not just the first 50,000 words! And hopefully I'll get a chance to edit some of it, too!
I can tell my parents will love this idea. Almost as much as they loved that tattoo I got. Oh, wait. I haven't told anyone about that yet.
Ahem.
-Sam goldsmith
P.S. The comments option has been enabled. Feel free to congratulate me on my accomplishment there.
Saturday, November 14, 2009
Novel Excerpt Part 2
Ciao, Tutti!
I don't really have that much to talk about today, but now that I've written 100 pages of my novel I feel that I should probably post another excerpt. Especially since I've been wanting to post this for a while now, though schoolwork hasn't allowed me such freedom.
A quick bit of disappointing news: the Flaming Fire installation project I had been talking about before? Yeah, funny story. Turns out the person hooking us up with the space has failed to do the job so far, which was supposed to be done 2 weeks ago. 'Aint art grand? I'll let you know when I know more.
And now, without further introduction, another unedited excerpt. It's a short one today, about music! Enjoy if you dare!
Outside the Crystal - Excerpt #2
Raychel had the urge to go to Tarana’s empty room and listen to music. Raychel never thought about listening to music before, but she used to do it with Tarana in her room, the sound almost too loud to talk over. Tarana was a certified audiophile, and she spent years scrounging together the perfect sound system. The speakers were so tall that Raychel couldn’t see the tops, and the legs were all made of triangles to reduce excess vibrations. “Sit on the futon, right here in the middle, if you want the sound that’s so good it’ll give you a sugar rush, okay?” said Tarana, flipping a Reamer Buoy disc into the player as Raychel braced for impact. “You lose some quality with digital music,” Tarana shouted over the singing. “Someday I want Cy to make an analogue version of amplification, like they had in the old days.” Cy flipped through the Glowstick computer magazine, lying back on Tarana’s bed.
“What?” said Raychel.
As much as Raychel didn’t remember being drawn to the music, she couldn’t help but feel it inside her now. Not Reamer Buoy, whose northern jubilant blues style was too upbeat for now, but something else. Reamer Buoy had a place in Raychel’s consciousness nonetheless. Thinking of it reminded her of Tarana sitting next to her on the futon, wrapping her arm around Raychel’s shoulder (even though Raychel would only tense up in response), smelling faintly of sweat and makeup, saying, “Now isn’t that the most awesome thing you’ve ever heard? Tell me you don’t think that’s awesome. Oh! I love this song! Get out of the middle seat, Raychel!” It reminded Raychel of “Let’s make a pact to stick together, okay?” It reminded her of Jerroldian slang, and it even sounded like Jerroldian slang when she thought about it. The music smelled faintly of sweat and makeup, and it felt like an arm wrapped around her shoulder.
To be continued...
Don't forget, folks: comments are available! Everything unanswered in this blog is still done for a reason, don't worry. So if you want to know more about Jerroldian slang or why I put a "Y" in Rachel's name or why I capitalized the word "Glowstick," feel free to ask.
...please?
-Sam goldsmith
I don't really have that much to talk about today, but now that I've written 100 pages of my novel I feel that I should probably post another excerpt. Especially since I've been wanting to post this for a while now, though schoolwork hasn't allowed me such freedom.
A quick bit of disappointing news: the Flaming Fire installation project I had been talking about before? Yeah, funny story. Turns out the person hooking us up with the space has failed to do the job so far, which was supposed to be done 2 weeks ago. 'Aint art grand? I'll let you know when I know more.
And now, without further introduction, another unedited excerpt. It's a short one today, about music! Enjoy if you dare!
Outside the Crystal - Excerpt #2
Raychel had the urge to go to Tarana’s empty room and listen to music. Raychel never thought about listening to music before, but she used to do it with Tarana in her room, the sound almost too loud to talk over. Tarana was a certified audiophile, and she spent years scrounging together the perfect sound system. The speakers were so tall that Raychel couldn’t see the tops, and the legs were all made of triangles to reduce excess vibrations. “Sit on the futon, right here in the middle, if you want the sound that’s so good it’ll give you a sugar rush, okay?” said Tarana, flipping a Reamer Buoy disc into the player as Raychel braced for impact. “You lose some quality with digital music,” Tarana shouted over the singing. “Someday I want Cy to make an analogue version of amplification, like they had in the old days.” Cy flipped through the Glowstick computer magazine, lying back on Tarana’s bed.
“What?” said Raychel.
As much as Raychel didn’t remember being drawn to the music, she couldn’t help but feel it inside her now. Not Reamer Buoy, whose northern jubilant blues style was too upbeat for now, but something else. Reamer Buoy had a place in Raychel’s consciousness nonetheless. Thinking of it reminded her of Tarana sitting next to her on the futon, wrapping her arm around Raychel’s shoulder (even though Raychel would only tense up in response), smelling faintly of sweat and makeup, saying, “Now isn’t that the most awesome thing you’ve ever heard? Tell me you don’t think that’s awesome. Oh! I love this song! Get out of the middle seat, Raychel!” It reminded Raychel of “Let’s make a pact to stick together, okay?” It reminded her of Jerroldian slang, and it even sounded like Jerroldian slang when she thought about it. The music smelled faintly of sweat and makeup, and it felt like an arm wrapped around her shoulder.
To be continued...
Don't forget, folks: comments are available! Everything unanswered in this blog is still done for a reason, don't worry. So if you want to know more about Jerroldian slang or why I put a "Y" in Rachel's name or why I capitalized the word "Glowstick," feel free to ask.
...please?
-Sam goldsmith
Sunday, November 8, 2009
Novel Excerpt
Ciao, Tutti!
For the first time ever, I will be posting an excerpt from my Nanowrimo novel during the month of November! I know, you can barely contain yourselves. There will be other excerpt postings in the future as well, seeing as there are two scenes I really want to post right now and can't make up my mind. The excerpts will be unedited, the way November intended. Be sure to follow my progress on the left-hand side of the blog if you have nothing better to do (you know you don't). The goal is 50,000, and I'm almost 40% there!
But first, a word of clarity: The band Flaming Fire is indeed corrupting my soul. Just in case there was ever any doubt. Now you don't have to worry that it's affecting me, because you know for sure.
You're welcome.
"Outside the Crystal" (working title) Excerpt
The door to Cy’s room was cracked open about a third of the way, but the inside seemed to be pitch black, no lights on at all. Raychel tapped on the door cautiously with the tops of her knuckles and whispered, “Cy? Your door’s open.” Hopefully he was asleep. He was probably the one who needed it most tonight. But he wasn’t, and the light turned on. Cy pushed the door aside, standing in his underwear in the threshold, scratching his stubble that had already started to form. Raychel tried not to wince because of the smell. Behind him a mixture of clothes, glass, fruit peels, plastic bottles, computer parts, and other unidentifiables were scattered across his floor, bed, chair, and desk.
“Hi, Raychel,” he yawned, rubbing his eye and standing out of the way to let her enter. She watched her feet as she did. “You didn’t wake me up, don’t worry.”
“Hello Cy,” she croaked, trying as hard as she could not to appear disturbed by the mess.
Cy knocked a cardboard box over with his foot to clear a path to the bed, then sat on it, his bulky body making it bounce without squeaking. He laughed without vocalizing, staring between his knees. “Oh, man, this place must look like a mess,” he said. “I must look like a mess.”
“No,” said Raychel automatically. She brushed a crumpled up Kurly O’s wrapper with her foot like Cy had, cautiously clearing a path to a chair she could sit in. “Actually, yes, this place is a mess. But I don’t mind.”
“It’s not supposed to look like this,” said Cy. “You shouldn’t be all right with it.”
“Cy, I don’t mind because I understand.” Raychel bent down to pick up a miniscule figurine, a wooden construction worker the size of a joint on her finger. He was missing an arm and paint was chipping off his helmet, but he still smiled. “We’re all kind of a mess right now.”
“This whole world’s a mess,” said Cy. “I know, everyone always says that, but it’s true. That’s why everyone says it, because it’s true. Think about it, Raychel. What happened to Tarana is happening every day, all the time, to people all over the world. Everyone’s losing loved ones, and everyone’s in a mess like this.” He sniffed. “I can’t believe that so many people in the world feel the way I feel right now.”
Raychel didn’t know how to respond to that, so she looked over the figurine. She recognized it from the model city Cy was always working on whenever he had spare time, even back in Brodaw. Raychel looked to the corner of the room where the city sat, separated from the ground by a slab of wood so it could be lifted and turned to make a better working angle. Miniature skyscrapers were meticulously painted, windows so real that it really looked like they were reflecting the light bulb as if it were the sun. But, unlike usual, a section of the city seemed to be missing, as if a miniature mechanical rhino had crashed through the edge of town and capped off the top of a bunch of the buildings.
“I’m sorry to sound like this,” said Cy, sniffing again. “I’m really happy you came to visit. I just…” Cy sighed on the edge of his bed. “I don’t really know what else to say.”
Raychel understood. “You were lucky to be so close to her,” she said, setting the figurine at the base of the broken buildings and making her way to the chair.
“I don’t feel lucky right now,” he whispered.
Raychel tried to change the subject, gesturing towards the model city. “What happened to Cyberg?” she asked.
Cy made the effort to chuckle. “I kicked it,” he said. “I kicked a lot of things, but that one gave in the easiest.”
“But it was your city. You worked so hard on it.”
“But all it takes is one kick to break it down.” Cy stretched out his back, reaching his arms high above his head. Raychel heard some of his joints crack. “I’ll have to rebuild it, when I can think straight.”
Cy had been involved in building models ever since Raychel had met him in Brodaw, and this city, Cyberg, was the most ambitious project he had taken on yet. He had plotted out the entire plan on a sheet of square paper two meters long which he used to keep hanging on his wall and had taken down once he started the actual building process. Raychel remembered the enormous effort he took as they evacuated Brodaw to keep everything perfectly intact on that same slab of wood, walking in slow motion as he held it in front of him like an tray of overflowing lava, shushing anyone who so much as said something.
“See, Raychel? Here’s the rubber factory, and here are the people protesting the stench, and here are the crying babies, because crying babies are always the most convincing argument. If you’re ever upset with something, just find a crying baby and say, ‘See? She’s upset, too!’ All right, for this one you have to bend over the city, so be careful not to touch anything. Here’s the waveball stadium in the center of town and all the wealthy waveball players who don’t even notice the beggars who are all around the stadium. Here’s the hill across from the river, where all the kids go to make out while their parents aren’t looking. See, there are two kids making out right there, under the tree. But – little do they know! – there’s a pigeon in the tree about to poop right on their heads. See, I painted a little glob coming out of its butt. Come on, Raychel, it’s not that gross. Just imagine it’s a white worm trying to work its way into the bird. Now that’s gross. Oh, over here’s the evil genius, Dr. Mighty Monstrous Morphing Man, developing his Ultimate Death Ray of Doom in his mother’s basement. See his outline through the curtains? But he messed up, see, and he exposed one of the wires, so now he’s getting electrocuted. See how I painted his hair all spikey? Here are two people having sex on the sixth story of their building, and here’s everyone watching with binoculars from the bushes across the street. That guy has a video camera, see? See?”
To be continued...
It's raw, I know, but that's what Nanowrimo is. Editing will happen in good time.
Now, time to study. Nah, my soul's too corrupt.
-Sam goldsmith
P.S. Don't forget, comments have been enabled! Take advantage!
P.P.S. Up to 20,000 words! Boo Yah!
For the first time ever, I will be posting an excerpt from my Nanowrimo novel during the month of November! I know, you can barely contain yourselves. There will be other excerpt postings in the future as well, seeing as there are two scenes I really want to post right now and can't make up my mind. The excerpts will be unedited, the way November intended. Be sure to follow my progress on the left-hand side of the blog if you have nothing better to do (you know you don't). The goal is 50,000, and I'm almost 40% there!
But first, a word of clarity: The band Flaming Fire is indeed corrupting my soul. Just in case there was ever any doubt. Now you don't have to worry that it's affecting me, because you know for sure.
You're welcome.
"Outside the Crystal" (working title) Excerpt
The door to Cy’s room was cracked open about a third of the way, but the inside seemed to be pitch black, no lights on at all. Raychel tapped on the door cautiously with the tops of her knuckles and whispered, “Cy? Your door’s open.” Hopefully he was asleep. He was probably the one who needed it most tonight. But he wasn’t, and the light turned on. Cy pushed the door aside, standing in his underwear in the threshold, scratching his stubble that had already started to form. Raychel tried not to wince because of the smell. Behind him a mixture of clothes, glass, fruit peels, plastic bottles, computer parts, and other unidentifiables were scattered across his floor, bed, chair, and desk.
“Hi, Raychel,” he yawned, rubbing his eye and standing out of the way to let her enter. She watched her feet as she did. “You didn’t wake me up, don’t worry.”
“Hello Cy,” she croaked, trying as hard as she could not to appear disturbed by the mess.
Cy knocked a cardboard box over with his foot to clear a path to the bed, then sat on it, his bulky body making it bounce without squeaking. He laughed without vocalizing, staring between his knees. “Oh, man, this place must look like a mess,” he said. “I must look like a mess.”
“No,” said Raychel automatically. She brushed a crumpled up Kurly O’s wrapper with her foot like Cy had, cautiously clearing a path to a chair she could sit in. “Actually, yes, this place is a mess. But I don’t mind.”
“It’s not supposed to look like this,” said Cy. “You shouldn’t be all right with it.”
“Cy, I don’t mind because I understand.” Raychel bent down to pick up a miniscule figurine, a wooden construction worker the size of a joint on her finger. He was missing an arm and paint was chipping off his helmet, but he still smiled. “We’re all kind of a mess right now.”
“This whole world’s a mess,” said Cy. “I know, everyone always says that, but it’s true. That’s why everyone says it, because it’s true. Think about it, Raychel. What happened to Tarana is happening every day, all the time, to people all over the world. Everyone’s losing loved ones, and everyone’s in a mess like this.” He sniffed. “I can’t believe that so many people in the world feel the way I feel right now.”
Raychel didn’t know how to respond to that, so she looked over the figurine. She recognized it from the model city Cy was always working on whenever he had spare time, even back in Brodaw. Raychel looked to the corner of the room where the city sat, separated from the ground by a slab of wood so it could be lifted and turned to make a better working angle. Miniature skyscrapers were meticulously painted, windows so real that it really looked like they were reflecting the light bulb as if it were the sun. But, unlike usual, a section of the city seemed to be missing, as if a miniature mechanical rhino had crashed through the edge of town and capped off the top of a bunch of the buildings.
“I’m sorry to sound like this,” said Cy, sniffing again. “I’m really happy you came to visit. I just…” Cy sighed on the edge of his bed. “I don’t really know what else to say.”
Raychel understood. “You were lucky to be so close to her,” she said, setting the figurine at the base of the broken buildings and making her way to the chair.
“I don’t feel lucky right now,” he whispered.
Raychel tried to change the subject, gesturing towards the model city. “What happened to Cyberg?” she asked.
Cy made the effort to chuckle. “I kicked it,” he said. “I kicked a lot of things, but that one gave in the easiest.”
“But it was your city. You worked so hard on it.”
“But all it takes is one kick to break it down.” Cy stretched out his back, reaching his arms high above his head. Raychel heard some of his joints crack. “I’ll have to rebuild it, when I can think straight.”
Cy had been involved in building models ever since Raychel had met him in Brodaw, and this city, Cyberg, was the most ambitious project he had taken on yet. He had plotted out the entire plan on a sheet of square paper two meters long which he used to keep hanging on his wall and had taken down once he started the actual building process. Raychel remembered the enormous effort he took as they evacuated Brodaw to keep everything perfectly intact on that same slab of wood, walking in slow motion as he held it in front of him like an tray of overflowing lava, shushing anyone who so much as said something.
“See, Raychel? Here’s the rubber factory, and here are the people protesting the stench, and here are the crying babies, because crying babies are always the most convincing argument. If you’re ever upset with something, just find a crying baby and say, ‘See? She’s upset, too!’ All right, for this one you have to bend over the city, so be careful not to touch anything. Here’s the waveball stadium in the center of town and all the wealthy waveball players who don’t even notice the beggars who are all around the stadium. Here’s the hill across from the river, where all the kids go to make out while their parents aren’t looking. See, there are two kids making out right there, under the tree. But – little do they know! – there’s a pigeon in the tree about to poop right on their heads. See, I painted a little glob coming out of its butt. Come on, Raychel, it’s not that gross. Just imagine it’s a white worm trying to work its way into the bird. Now that’s gross. Oh, over here’s the evil genius, Dr. Mighty Monstrous Morphing Man, developing his Ultimate Death Ray of Doom in his mother’s basement. See his outline through the curtains? But he messed up, see, and he exposed one of the wires, so now he’s getting electrocuted. See how I painted his hair all spikey? Here are two people having sex on the sixth story of their building, and here’s everyone watching with binoculars from the bushes across the street. That guy has a video camera, see? See?”
To be continued...
It's raw, I know, but that's what Nanowrimo is. Editing will happen in good time.
Now, time to study. Nah, my soul's too corrupt.
-Sam goldsmith
P.S. Don't forget, comments have been enabled! Take advantage!
P.P.S. Up to 20,000 words! Boo Yah!
Sunday, November 1, 2009
Comments Enabled!
Ciao, Tutti!
It only cost my future first born, but I finally figured out how to make it possible for people to comment on a blog post! If you click on the thing at the bottom of the post that says, "(#) comments. Click here to comment," you will be allowed to post a comment to me on the post! Yowza! Go ahead and try it out. Right now.
I wrote 3123 words on day 1 of Nanowrimo. Just so ya know.
I'm going to bed.
-Sam goldsmith
It only cost my future first born, but I finally figured out how to make it possible for people to comment on a blog post! If you click on the thing at the bottom of the post that says, "(#) comments. Click here to comment," you will be allowed to post a comment to me on the post! Yowza! Go ahead and try it out. Right now.
I wrote 3123 words on day 1 of Nanowrimo. Just so ya know.
I'm going to bed.
-Sam goldsmith
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