Fast Fiction

Okay, maybe I’m feeling a little cocky. I said to myself that I’d been behind before. In fact, I’ve been behind every year.

Well, I did a little looking. Last year, on this day I had 10,271 words. In 2001, when I was sick and had to pick my mother up at the airport for her week-long visit I had 7,699.

Of course the day’s not over yet.

I found it! There’s this quote I’ve been looking for, and apparently I was looking for it once before and I found it and I put it in my drafts folder of my email. Well, I was looking for something else and there it was.

And here it is:

A poet’?s object is not to tell what actually happened but what could or would happen either probably or inevitably…. For this reason poetry is something more scientific and serious than history, because poetry tends to give general truths while history gives particular facts.
Aristotle (Poetics)

Basically, it’s what I tell people who are writing autobiographies or historical novels. The fiction writer’s job is to correct history. To put things in the proper order and mode so that they make sense, so that perhaps we learn from them. I know somewhere along the way someone else said something to the effect of “A playwrights job is to correct history.” But I can’t find that so the venerable Aristotle will have to do.

Yes, I’ve got only 4,009 words on my novel and I’m sure if someone (not me!) went through this blog you’d find more than 4,000 words.

I haven’t written in days. I plan to write for a few hours tonight and hopefully most of the day tomorrow. I’m not looking forward to looking back and seeing that I did the novel in probably five days ... that would make me feel really weird to see that a whole novel only takes one day a week or so.

Tonight I think I’ll hit the Silverlake Coffee Company again tonight.

I went over to The Coffee Table this evening after work.

I had:
1 Bowl of Potato Leek Soup & Grilled Bread
1 Pot of Rooibos Tea

The good part was that I started like gangbusters.

Start Time: 7:30
time…..tally….words…words/minute
7:45…..3868…..580…..38.67
8:00…..4009…..141…..09.40

The bad part is that somewhere in the second fifteen minutes I got a single drop of tea on my keyboard. The J key, to be specific. And this little spot of tea got under the key and shorted something out. I pulled the keys off and dried it out, but it seemed to make little difference. The J wanted to be insert itself everywhere. Even when I hit the delete key it seemed to come up Js.

So, I packed it in. I pried the keys up and I stuck them in my pocket and I headed home. Not an hour had passed since I left and I came home fully defeated.

I used the last breath of pressurized air to blow out the last bits of moisture and things seem to be working fine now, but I was sure as hell annoyed earlier.

It just wasn’t supposed to be my night.

I’ll get more done tomorrow maybe. Or Saturday.

Wordcount for the evening ... 733.

I’m horribly distressed. I’m a little bit disheartened by the tone of my story at the moment and not looking forward to working on the more depressing aspects of it. But I’m really surprised at the lack of support I’m getting from everyone.

Yeah, it’s not my best effort. I know what it is in my head, and sure the beginning isn’t great, but that’s really my problem. Sorry, I’m not really looking for a critique now because NaNoWriMo is about plowing ahead. I’ve had this iead of putting these two stories together for years and I don’t think it’s a bad impulse.

And whatever I pick as the topic for my novel is really only my business and I should learn to keep my fool mouth shut. At first I thought I wasn’t describing it properly but it turns out that everyone (and I mean EVERYONE) thinks it’s a bad idea. Maybe I’m just bad at telling what the novel is about and I’ll get it right when I write it?

It’s supposed to be a catharsis, not just the novel itself, but the process. Maybe it’s too personal. So, from now on, the blog will only talk about antiseptic word counts and what I ate and drank and where I type and how I feel about it. No content whatsoever. If you want to read the novel, it’s over there and you can have a look. But that’s for you to look at, for you to see that I’m doing it. I’m not looking for any work-in-progress feedback, because I don’t think I can handle another opinion right now.

Yes, I know I only mentioned it briefly in yesterday’s post, but I started over. I was only 850 words in and I decided that I packed too much into those words and that I had to loosen up the story a bit, or else I’d run out of plot before 50,000 words.

I’m still on track, but I don’t expect to write today or tomorrow. Maybe Wednesday after work I can get a few thousand words in.

The big trouble is that the story is very sad. I know, I know, it opens with a funeral, what did I expect? But it just seems dismal at the moment and I can’t figure how I’m going to get it out of that mood smoothly. Hell, I guess for NaNoWriMo it doesn’t have to be smooth.

The other nagging question is brining in the other storyline that I was going to alternate. Should I just start a new chapter and go for it? Should I try to introduce it into the current story, like make the Jester/Minstrel tell it to the travelers?

I suppose I have a few days to think about it. Then again, I may get the house put back together tonight and maybe I’ll be able to write for an hour or so.

I went out to do some errands this morning and then headed out to write. I figured I’d stop at Espresso Mi Cultura but after two passes, I couldn’t find a spot. And my motto is, “If there are no parking spaces, there are no tables.” So I moved on, heading up Franklin to Psychobabble. I pulled into the parking lot behind it and there were no spots to be had. I turned around and continued down Franklin to Silverlake and didn’t even slow down for The Coffee Table - I could see the line out the door all the way from Hyperion.

Ah, but The Silverlake Coffee Company, they were just right. I pulled into their large lot and had my choice of nearly a dozen spaces. Nice roomy spaces that meant that I wouldn’t have any trouble getting out.

I ordered:
1 Large Non-Fat Latte with a Double Shot
1 Pecan Bar - heated
1 Vegetarian Sandwich (cheddar & Swiss on wheat with cucumbers, lettuce, red onions and avocado).

I picked a set of tables - one wobbled, so I sat in the outside seat facing the door (because ya never want yer back to the door!) and unpacked my laptop. I had a full battery so I didn’t plug in. By the time my sandwich came I was booted and had my playlist going and my earbuds in.

Playlist - a mixture of Enya, The Cranberries, Afro-Celt Sound System, Deep Forest, something called Celtic Air, and The Prayer Cycle by Jonathan Elias. I’m thinking of also picking up some Enigma. I’m not that fond of them in general, but it might help with the mood. Heck, maybe some of that Gregorian Chant stuff, too.

And then to writing. I didn’t even bother to open yesterday’s file. I just started over with a fresh, blank slate.

I’ll post my status spreadsheet and work so far later on this evening, but here’s how the afternoon went (yes, I log my wordcount in fifteen minute increments).

Start Time: 12:30
time…..tally….words….words/minute
12:45…...301…..301…..20.07
1:00…....711…..410…..27.33
1:15…..1,213…..502…..33.47
1:30…..1,589…..376…..25.07
1:45…..1,833…..244…..16.27
2:00…..2,167…..334…..22.27
2:15…..2,492…..325…..21.67
2:30…..2,810…..318…..21.20
2:45…..3,050…..240…..16.00
3:00…..3,276…..226…..15.07

Somewhere around 2:00 I got a refill of coffee.

Are you wondering if I’m going to keep this tally going for the whole month? Are you wondering why I’d do such a thing in the first place? And then share it with you?

I’m trying to find the perfect writing moment - the moment where the words just pour out. Maybe by noting the conditions in which I do my writing and analyzing them I can somehow figure it out. Like it looks like somewhere between one and two I was really blazing away. I had finished my sandwich and was into new territory and the music was pretty good.

I guess I’m going to go back to The Silverlake Coffee Company. It’s worth a shot.

A little after ten this morning my neighbor Robin and her girlfriend Amy stopped by. They wanted to see my new floor. Hard not to see it since pieces of it are in the front yard. I told them they could see it installed in the house too.

Robin started her novel this morning. She already has 1,500 words. I’ve been trying to get her signed up for several years. I found out about NaNoWriMo at her birthday party back in ‘01 - one of her guests mentioned that there was this thing were you write a novel in a month. Several months later there was an article in the LA Times that confirmed this, so I signed up. Somehow I thought she would, too. Then last year she took off to travel around Europe for a year. Something she calls Slow Motion Tourism. Anyway, apparently traveling around Europe without a job is too time consuming to write a novel. So, when she got back a few months ago I started bugging her. Obviously a year of traveling means that you HAVE TO write a novel.

Turns out that the desire to write the novel that she didn’t even know she wanted to write was too much and she’s in. 1,500 words in.

Oh, and she’s also considering getting the bamboo floors too ...

Well, when it started, pretty much anywhere in the world, I was asleep.

I went to bed last night at 10:30 PM. And I got up at 8:00 AM. It’s almost nine and I still haven’t written anything yet. Well, this.

I’m not ready. I just realized how unprepared I am. I don’t have some new headphones for my laptop to listen to music. I ripped some music, but I haven’t created playlists yet. I’ve got things to do today! I’ve got more workers coming to the house and an appointment to get my hair cut (I can only figure I scheduled it for today because I knew that I wouldn’t do it later in the month.)

I don’t have little treats hidden away in my laptop case. Ginger Altoids, a Luna bar, some Advil, that topical anti-inflammatory cream that makes my hands feel better when I’ve been typing in the damp cold. My desk is literally piled with crap (the piles are literal, the crap is just an all-encompassing word for stuff that I’m not fond of).

And here I am rambling about this. I could just be writing.

Oh, I have no coffee, and no milk. And even if I did, I don’t know where I put the coffee maker yesterday. Maybe they’ll give me coffee at the salon ... do you think they’d fill my travel mug for me before I go?

Maybe I should start with a shower.

After a mad dash outside to put all the things that shouldn’t get wet into the carport, I’m sitting on the floor of the living room waiting. The neighborhood kids seem to think I have candy, and it turns out I do. Though not much. I really shouldn’t have opened the bag earlier in the day. I don’t even like tootsie rolls that much.

Anyway, the hardwood floor guys came today. We’re having bamboo laminate floors put in. Actually, for Halloween, they’re bamBOO floors. So, the day was spent moving furniture around the house from the old floor onto the new floor. I don’t feel like uncovering the couch and sitting there, mostly because I’d then be facing the wall and have very little legroom. So I dragged a couple of floor pillows in and I’m sitting on the floor on one and the dog seems to have curled herself up into a ball on the other. She’s growling mostly, as the trick-or-treaters are always nearby.

You’re saying to yourself right now, why is she telling me this? It’s true, I haven’t been bloggy, I haven’t been typetive. But it’s late October and NaNoWriMo starts tomorrow and I have to ramp up my incessant rambling or else I’ll cramp up tomorrow.

Also, I’m cold and the laptop is warm.

I’m just waiting for October to be over. Maybe I’ll sit around and wait for the neighborhood kids to come by and beg for candy. Or maybe I’ll just go to bed early.

Or maybe, just maybe I’ll stay up until midnight and start then ... get a few thousand words up on the screen and outta my head.

I’m planning on spending the day moving furniture around the house (in an effort to stay ahead of the hardwood floor installers) and perhaps coming up with a first sentence for my novel. At the very least an idea of where I’m starting. I think it might go like this:

“Dymphna combed and braided her mother’s hair this one last time. When she stepped back, the nuns came forward and stripped her mother’s body and began the ritual funeral bathing.”

Or something like that.

Happy Halloween.

After months of not posting, here I am, three in one day. Of course this sentence is just here so that the following didn’t run into the little Celtic Knot gif. Of course this has nothing to do with my novel. But I like quizzes.

I don’t know if anyone has actually given voice to this before. But here goes:

I have this secret hope (well, it’s not much of a secret if I post it in my blog) that my novel will be great. I have this weird faith or delusion that my novel will turn out great. That my ramblings under a deadline will be a work of pure transcendental genius.

Maybe it’s because I’ve kind of being coasting along with my writing for a great many years. I don’t find writing or revising terribly difficult. Writing a play, for me at least, is not that hard. I just have to be very motivated by a rich idea and then do it. Does that make me talented? I don’t think so. I think that everyone is a writer inside, but they’ve put up barriers to letting ideas come out, or allow themselves to get distracted before the ideas come to fruition.

I just wonder if I’m going about this wrong. If I should be trying harder. Or maybe it’s the not trying but the doing that makes things what they are. (Do or do not, there is no try - Yoda)

Or maybe I’m just an egotistical elitist who believes that my slightest thought is valuable and should be shared the instant I have it.

I have a nemesis for November now. His name is Graham and he lives in the UK. You can visit his journal and see how he’s doing! Leave him a nice note in the comments. I even put him over on my Wrimo blogs list.

I know, some folks don’t like the term enemy or even nemesis. Maybe adversary? Oh, is that still too contentious? Let’s face it sometimes we need a little competition in order to complete a huge task. And that’s all NaNoWriMo is. Sure, it’s all huggy and supportive and whatnot, but sometimes you just need someone to kick your butt. And maybe it’s leading by example - Graham has a full-time job and maybe he’s able to do more words per day than I am, so I’ll just work a little harder to keep up with him.

And I suppose it’s going to work in reverse, too. I wouldn’t say I’m a role model, but I can certainly testify that it can be done and has been done by thousands of people and my life is pretty much an open book and I’m willing to talk about all the tricks I use to get through NaNoWriMo.

And they’re not even tricks. I’m not one for word-padding. I like to joke about it, but I don’t really indulge in using lyrics or quotes. I do, however, just go on incessantly. The “trick” if you can call it that, is to just keep typing. If you’re stuck, just move on. Go to a place that you know, skip to a spot in the story that you can tell. Leave a little asterisk or something there and go back later. It’s in all the books on writing, especially if you’re a disciple of Natalie Goldberg - you just have to go with it.

Sure, my novel will look something like a stream-of-consciousness version of a really wordy outline. But I can attest that it is readable in the most basic of ways. Anything beyond that is gravy, baby.

Well, I’ve been working on the look & feel of the site. So consider this fastfiction v 2.0.

I did a pretty much straight swap out of all the current graphics (just replaced them with other graphics of the same name on the server) which I was hoping would make it much easier to enact this changeover. I changed my archiving over to monthly instead of weekly. Since the blog has been going on for about two years, it was getting to be a long list. I also purged the links to other wrimo blogs list and got rid of the dead links. I posted links to my favorite entries at the top as well. I figured once I put in the larger images I had all the space, I may as well fill it up.

The graphics are all legal. The Celtic Crosses at the top are taken from photos of carved stone crosses from the sixth through eighth centuries. The elements at the left are taken from the Durrow Gospels and Lindisfarne Gospels (illuminated manuscripts) from the same period. I’ll probably add some other little elements in every once in a while.  I founds some cool elements from those illuminated manuscripts - things like lions and dragons and a great one of Jesus being arrested. But that’ll be for another time.

So, your comments? Something not working? Let me know.

Well, I think I’ve settled on my new novel idea. I’m loathe to discuss it here, I think the more I talk about an idea, the less I need to write it all out.

In short, I’m combining the tale of Saint Dymphna and one of the more obscure Grimm’s Fairy Tales, Allerleirauh, into a sort of alternating chapter novel. One takes place in the gritty 7th century in all its primitive pre-industrial iron-age glory and the fairy tale chapters will take place in that other pretty realm of stories. I have no clue if it will be interesting to anyone else but me.

The good thing is that I think I picked a story of the perfect length for NaNoWriMo. Last year’s story really needed to be conceived as a full novel. This story seems perfect for a novella.

We are in the middle of a kitchen remodel. Well, maybe not the middle, maybe we’re at the beginning, as demolition has only just begun. Or maybe we’re at the end, because the planning is the longest part.

But all that aside, some fellows came to our house on Monday and they tore our kitchen out. And what didn’t get torn out on Monday, got torn out on Tuesday. The windows came out. And then the walls came down, well, plaster anyway. We have one of those great old houses that still has plaster & lath in many spots. I’m not sure if it makes more of a mess than demolishing drywall or not.

As our house has a rather open floorplan (and even more open when we’re done), it was not a matter of just closing the doors and tearing it up. No, there are walls of plastic. Huge spans of visquine that heave and bellow as any breeze sucks air out of the sequestered kitchen.

Oh sure, everyone’s making fun of me. I’m rather upset by the whole thing.

I’m most upset for the poor dishwasher. It was a wonderful and awful dishwasher. A Kitchen Aid, at least 22 years old. In its final run of dishes it whirred and groaned and popped so loudly, the Man and I had to yell just to carry on a normal conversation. But it worked. Sure, the door wouldn’t stay open, or closed. Sure, it didn’t really wash dishes so much as wet them and heat them and pelt them with noise. Sure all the little prongs and separators had rusted off and left little rusty spots on the dishes. But it was ours. And I get all gooey-affectionate just knowing that so many other people would have tossed it out years ago, but we made it work and kept it until what must surely be the end of its useful life. So, now it sits down in the carport, waiting for someone to drag it into the dumpster and send it off to the landfill or scrap-yard.

I think it reminds me of the Hans Christian Andersen story, The Fir Tree. The story is about a discontented little tree wanted nothing more than everything else that he didn’t have, but the way it’s told from the point-of-view of the tree has always just ... well, saddened me. The poor thing, it only wanted to fulfill its role in world, but it never knew how. Or wasn’t given the chance ...

So, here I am, crying because this stupid dishwasher that really doesn’t work, wastes water and electricity, I’m crying because it is going away.

But just as a point of reference, I used to cry when my mother would tear up old sheets to use as rags. Dunno. I just have this soft spot.

As some sort of appeasement to me, the butcherblock that was the top of the dishwasher is going to be saved. Our cabinet-maker is going to take it off and sand it down, oil it and give it back to us to use. The only thing that we’re keeping from the old kitchen. Like some weird mounted head trophy from a kill.

Well, I guess it could be nice. Or maybe I’ll just break down sobbing when they give it to us. I can just see it, Cybele walking around the house, clutching the huge butcherblock to her chest, petting it and cooing ...

I need to get in the habit of writing more.

This isn’t really much better than nothing, is it?

Perhaps I should be updating my blog more often, but as my obsessive personality dictates, I have moved on to a new passion.

Right now it’s my typing monkeys. Well, they’re not mine.

It’s called the Monkey Shakespeare Simulator. It’s a java experiment to test that old proposition that if you put an infinite number of monkeys in front of an infinite number of typerwriters, eventually they will produce the works of Shakespeare. (David Ives has a great short play about this, called Words, Words, Words in his collection, All in the Timing.)

Anyway, just open the window and watch the little primates bang away at their keyboards. I’m stalled out at 7 characters, but with over 3 million monkeys at the moment, I am confident by the end of the year we might actually get a sentence out of the industrious little fellows.

My other question is if they are monkeys or chimpanzees. I think chimps would work better, they have a greater handspan than say, your capuchins or colubus.

In case any of you forgot, this little bloggy started with a novel. And it’s been a full year since my last novel (The Russian Watercolors) and I’m gearing up for my third starting at Midnight on November 1st.

I’ll begin a gradual changeover of the look and feel of this site as October progresses. You might recall that this look comes from the engraving style of artwork used in currency, because my last novel was about counterfeiting. This year my novel will be set in 7th century Ireland and Belgium.

If you’re interested in writing a novel during the month of November along with 10,000 other nutcases - go to NaNoWriMo.

I got a new digital camera a few weeks ago. And my disposition dictates that I become obsessive with the thing.

I’ve been pretty much in “macro” mode and I feel that I have documented the insect inhabitants of my back yard very well.

Last night I decided to try to capture fireworks. Now, I know that a digital camera is not supposed to be very good at lowlight things. And though I live close to Dodger stadium and I can see the fireworks from the roof, I’m not really what you’d call “close.” Probably about two or three miles as the crow flies.

Anyway, here’s the latest result:

Bean Town
45 N. Baldwin Ave. (at the corner of Sierra Madre Blvd.)
Sierra Madre, CA
(626) 355-1596
take the Baldwin exit from the 210 and head north for a while you might think you’re in the wrong place, but you’re not

Hours - something insane like 6 AM to 10 PM

Prices - counter service - $1.25 for coffee, $2.50 + for premium coffee drinks. Full bakery with cookies, cakes & pastries. Sandwiches, smoothies & ice cream. Honor bar for coffee refills (50 cents so bring some quarters).

Ambiance - a family friendly place. There are large farmhouse tables along the walls with various chairs (you may have to trade around to find one you like) and couches, tables out on the sidewalk for smokers. No music, but it gets rather noisy, especially on weekends because this is THE place to gather in Sierra Madre (besides the brewery). Board games.

Connections - outlets near the tables against the wall. You may need to unplug the lamp on your table to access them though. There is an internet terminal, available for free (though polite folks don’t spend more than five or ten minutes on it) so you can check email or the boards.

Parking - two hours free on the street, large free lot very close by

If you’re looking for a getway from Los Angeles, a place where families come by and play Monopoly for hours with their pre-teen kids, or a spot where there are far fewer tattoos and body piercings, it may be worth the drive. This is definitely small town America.

CyberJava
7080 Hollywood Blvd. (at LaBrea)
Hollywood
(323) 466-5600
http://www.cyberjava.com

Hours: their website doesn’t say

Prices counter service, decent prices ($1.75 for regular drip coffee, premium drinks start at $2.25) Sandwiches start at $6. Good selection of pastries (though no chocolate croissants the past two times I’ve stopped by).

Ambiance Not so comfy on the inside, but decent. Great outdoor space right on Hollywood Blvd. with some decent greenery. The pigeons are a little demanding.

Connections Lots and lots. Inside and out. But there aren’t many tables inside. Computer rental by the hour (in 15 minute increments - $6/hour).

Parking They’ll validate for their lot if you buy $5 worth of food/drinks. Otherwise trawl around on the side streets. Sunday is free street parking.

While looking at who’s looking at this blog, I noticed that someone accessed it using Google’s translation thingy. They translated it from English into French.

Now, you gotta wonder how accurate the translation is ... don’tcha? I especially like how “don’t get me wrong” becomes “do not obtain the evil to me.”

So, here it is, the last entry translated from English into French and back into English. I think it gives my writing the quirky style I’ve not yet been able to achieve:

We have coyotes.  Because I was outside in court, that I will grant to you is not much court… that it is a major extent of six feet of the gravel and bad grasses that I had tried to cultivate like garden of rock… in any event, I was outside there with the dog the night spent around midnight.  The moon was fullish and the skies were most of the time clear and of the chips.  And while I went me dÈbarasser of my bad grasses in the can of refuse in my alley that I had not taken to him to the bottom is the memory capacity because of the rain saturdays, I sought, dog always attached to me and coyotes of the saw two trottant silently in bottom of the street towards me. 

My point is, I guess I would like that they keep with themselves one little more.  I would like that the coyotes a little are frightened ego.  Perhaps I am too nice simply. 

We’ve got coyotes.

As I was out in the front yard, which I will grant you isn’t much of a yard ... it’s a six foot deep expanse of gravel and weeds that I’ve been trying to cultivate as a rock garden ... anyway, I was out there with the dog last night around midnight. The moon was fullish and the skies were mostly clear and crisp. And as I went to dispose of my weeds in the garbage can in my driveway that I hadn’t taken down to it’s storage space because of the rain on Saturday, I looked up, dog still tethered to me and saw two coyotes silently trotting down the street towards me.

They are pretty much the same size as my dog ... about thirty pounds, narrow bodies, bushy tails, lithe and trim bodies with brindled brown and grey coats. They stopped, in front of my house, across the street on the sidewalk. Posing, I can only guess. Not facing me, still pointed to continue up the street, but their heads turned and fixed on me, and perhaps more importantly, on my dog.

They weren’t the least bit scared. I positioned myself at the top of the driveway, and my dog did what she always does when another animal comes along, she sits and will not be moved. Well, the coyotes were the same way and just stared us down. We stood like that for well over a minute.

I slowly made a move towards them, and they matched it with a few steps toward me. Okay, maybe that wasn’t such a good idea, I wanted to scare them off, not meet in the middle of the street and shake paws. I stomped on the ground in their direction and made some “yah!” noise and waved my free arm. One just turned and continued his trot down the street, the other, the closer one went up the stairs into the yard across the street. He joined his companion down the street, having cut through the yard and by the neighbor’s garage.

So, I figured they were gone. I saw them trot up the street and out of view.

I let my dog finish her business, that was what we were out there to do, after all. We walked across the street and she marked the spot where they were standing. I kept an eye down the street, to the spot where the streetlight pools and the street rises out of view and there they were again, standing up there. Waiting.

They started back down the street, and I’m still amazed at how quiet they were. Even a dog with no collar makes a sound with their claws on the pavement, but these fellas were like cats. And this time they stayed in the middle of the street and showed no sign of slowing on their approach. So, me and the pooch made a beeline for the back door. We went inside and stayed there. I turned off the lights in the house so as to get a better look at the coyotes outside and noticed that they sniffed around where my dog had marked and then, as I went to find a camera with some film in it, they disappeared.

I don’t know. It just freaked me out a bit. Wild animals prowling around, seeming to have their sites on me and my pooch.

I’ve seen these coyotes before in the neighborhood, even saw one in my back yard one evening as I went to take the dog out. But never this close up, and never with them so bold.

Don’t get me wrong, I do enjoy my wildlife in Los Angeles. I’ve got a menagerie in my back yard. A skunk, two racoons, squirrels a-go-go. Crows, hummingbirds, mourning doves, red-tailed hawks, sparrows, blue jays, probably bunches of other birds I can’t name. An opossum. I suppose it’s only natural to have something at the top of the food chain. I’m sure as hell not eating these other creatures. And I’ve found evidence that something is eating them, the occasional ribcage or tuft of fur and sometimes a flurry of feathers (which is more likely from the neighbor’s cat) ... a huge rib bone, which I can only imagine is something from a cow that one of the coyotes dug out of a trash bin somewhere (jeeze, I hope that’s where they got it from, I’d hate to think that the aliens are performing their cattle mutilations in my back yard).

My point is, I guess I’d like them to keep to themselves a little more. I’d like the coyotes to be a bit more afraid of me. Maybe I’m just too nice.

Yes, my list o’ things to do before I die just got a bit shorter this weekend.

I arrived in downtown Los Angeles early Sunday morning and a scant seven hours, forty seven minutes and thirty seven seconds I was basically back where I started. Probably two pounds lighter from the loss of weight but with a medal around my neck and good feeling in my heart (and a painful feeling in my shoes, but that’s another story).

Okay, it wasn’t the best time in the world for a marathon, but lets face it, how many folks actually even attempt it? And I know so much more about marathons having done one now and next year I hope to shave ninety minutes off of my time. Yeah, next year’ll be even better. And if you ever think you CAN’T, try telling your silly-ass reasons to Bob Wieland, whom I passed and saluted at mile six. He started on Saturday ... I hope he’s finished by now. UPDATE - Bob Wieland finished on Saturday, 173 hours after he started.

Barbara’s at the Brewery
620 Moulton Ave.
Los Angeles, CA
http://www.breweryart.org

Hours - dang, I forgot to check, but it’s a bar for the most part, so expect them to be open late.

Prices - reasonable, good selection of beer and liquor, nice entrees between $7-10. Last time I was there the cappucino machine was down, but they still had brewed coffee.

Ambiance - subdued, funky, pleasant. There are round tables around, a general bar and a separate room with couches, tables, chairs, lamps with low lighting. Music - but you can still carry on a conversation and hear the clickety-clack of your keyboard. Very artsy, lots of stuff on the walls. There’s a small outdoor patio area with a couple of chairs & tables. What’s cool about this place, most of all, is the neighborhood feel to it. You can tell that the folks who live in the complex frequent the place. The bartenders are very casual and seem to know just about everyone.

Connections - lots of outlets as long as you stay to the walls of the room (There are many tables and chairs in the center that can’t access the outlets. Cingular service seemed to work there.)

Parking - ample, free, close, unrestricted (and oddly roomy spots)

The Monrovia Coffee Company
425 S Myrtle Ave - corner of Myrtle & Lemon
Monrovia, CA 91016-2811
(626) 305-1377
North of Colorado Blvd.

Hours - 6-10 weekdays, 7-11 weekends.

Prices - very reasonable - drip coffee starts at 1.25 - fancy drinks at 2.25 - sandwiches $5 and up - desserts and ice cream

Ambiance - during the day it’s light, bright and upbeat. They play music. There are lots of tables with straight wooden chairs or comfy chairs with coffee tables. Tables out front on the sidewalk for smokers & otherwise outdoor inclined.

Connections - some scattered outlets around. None outside.

Parking - ample, free (though most have a 3 hour limit)

Highlight - very homey, downtown Monrovia is very much a small town right in LA County. Quite a refreshing change.

Bourgeois Pig
5931 Franklin Ave (between Bronson & Tamarind)
Los Angeles, CA 90028-5515
(323) 464-6008

Hours - 8 AM to 2 AM

Prices - $1.50 for drip coffee, $2.25 for a pot of tea (great selection - herbal, black & green - Chinese, Indian & Japanese). No refills. Real cups. Fancy drinks start at $2.75. Some pastries & small selection of sandwiches starting at $5.00.

Ambiance - they play an eclectic mix of music, sometimes loud. Tables out front for smokers (with an overhang if it’s raining), inside there are large library size tables (sometimes you have to share your table), eclectic mix of comfy chairs and some real butt-busters, back room has couches and is rather dark but cozy. Pool table.

Connections - ample inside at the large tables, also a dead zone for Cingluar service (do they work ANYWHERE?)

Parking - biggest drawback to this place is parking. You have to trawl. Most is free when you find it, but they usually have strictly enforced 2 hour limits.

Additional Highlight - Across the street from the Church of Scientology Celebrity Center.

I’m normally not the type to go around doing wanton self-promotion, but I’m quite proud of my current project and thought I’d share it here.

I have a series of one-acts that are currently running in Los Angeles, produced by TheatreMachine, running at Theatre/Theatre in Hollywood and directed by Heidi Rose Robbins. They’re called The Parking Lot Plays and they have a website of their very own.

The reviews came out today and were rather pleasant. Not raves, mind you, but solid and positive. I know some folks hate critics and some critics can be mean just to turn a phrase or something, but even the negative comments they gave me were well founded in my opinion. Check out the LA Weekly and Backstage West.