Mei! Chapter 22 turned out to be monstrous, but after it was slain, the other fell quickly. The result is rough, but I am pleased with it for now. Once act III is done, then will begin the task of cleaning it all up.

It is enough for now.

So, I am still on chapter 22. Yes, I have actually been working on it, but it’s been a real bear. I suppose, considering it’s the climax of the second act, it SHOULD be a bear, but whatever the case, I am annoyed. I want to finish the draft of the novel, and this is in my way. Other chapters come easy, but this one? Well, it’s coming. At 40 pages, it’s not a case of dawdling, just volume and some surgery from my outline, things I wanted to fit together differently when the actual scene was written.

Maybe today.

Delicious!

Halloween has passed, and it was enjoyed by all. For some, it was a completely new experience!

And as for me, I am on chapter 22.

I have let things lie on this for a long time, and much to my detriment. It’s been a rather hellish year, full of fear and trepidation. I’ve accomplished little other than age twice the amount of real time that has passed. Time to dig out again.

I’d love ot finish this thing by the end of the year. That’s a very rigorous schedule, but it can certainly happen if I actually work on it like I would a programming task. It’s considerably more tazing than programming at times, but it can be done.

My chief roadblock is feeling as if I am simply wasting my time, that the novel won’t be good. I suppose, in the end, I would waste the time one way or another. I am in no position to judge the work. That’s what an editor will do once I finish it.

16 chapters in Act II, quite a haul. I on on the 11th, chapter 21 of the novel. It’s getting pretty big, now.

As the title says, today’s duties included less than pleasant activities.

We had this brown mutt we got from the pound back in June. He was probably seven months old. He was hit by a car today, and it was pretty ugly, no chance of living, but not dead yet. I won’t go into details. Just take my word for it. I was going to use the rifle, but I couldn’t find the clip, so I used the .45.

I didn’t want this duty. I was just the one who had to do it. I tried to aim, but it’s hard to shoot straight when you really don’t want to look at what you’re shooting. First shot was a clean miss. Second shot was worse. It brought new misery to the creature. He howled in pain. That got to me. I was half a mind to shoot my damned self in the foot for that one, to even things up. I was freaked pretty hard, basically, “Oh, shit, you stupid fuck, look what you’ve done.”

And what I’d done, not to put to fine a point on it, was to be a pussy about it,  which just made things worse. It had to be done no matter how much I disliked it. Because of me shirking my duty, the animal was suffering much more than it should.

Third shot I aimed, and I watched what I didn’t want to have to see, and my shot went true.

I’m writing this down now for my sons. Not right now. They don’t need to know the ugly parts. Gilbert is heart broken enough as it is. But later, I want them to know something that I guess I knew in theory, but that was brought into pretty sharp focus for me today: a man needs to be resolved to do what he has to do, ugly or not. If he shirks it, or tries to get out of it,  it usually makes things worse.

Thus endeth the lesson.

Well, today we too in our first harvest of corn. It’s fairly meager, maybe 15 ears total, and most of them smaller. We got a few in that were just about perfect. It’s not even close enough to feed us for any length of time, but it’s a small triumph, a proof of concept if nothing else. It doesn’t hurt that this was our second attempt at the corn. The first failed miserably. We planted in cups, and when we transplanted, the seedlings just didnt make it. Maybe we waited to late to transplant, but personally, I think corn is ideal for simply planting in the ground.

Oh, my! If only I had teeth!

The ear in the pic above is the first one I picked, and it was pretty nice looking. The pic doesn’t really do it justice. It will be eaten with gusto tonight.

Halloween approacheth!

Deveour!

May

So weary of late. So much to be done. I have probably moved a ton of weight in the last week or so, perhaps two or three. I really have no idea. We’ve shifted things to storage, sold things, etc., all in preparation for moving. One way or another, we can’t stay here. We have to control the burn. With any luck, we’ll find a renter.

And if we’re really lucky, work. I’ve travelled thousands of miles, plane trip after plane trip, each full of hope. Sometimes those hopes were dashed, and I console myself with the truth: bad fit. I can’t help but find the entire process distasteful. Such an indiginity, pimping oneself. It feels like dating, some women honest, some just looking for presents and compliments, still others terribly confused about what they want and who they are. And I have never been a good liar. For good or ill, I simply let things fall where they may. At times, I wonder if I might be better off if I were less honest, more manipulative, but it’s not so. One must be who he is. There is no gain in winning a job where one must pretend, any more than in winning a woman in similar circumstances.

There is no joy in such things, merely hollow victory. And yet, the time aproaches when such things are of less concern then simple survival. God willing, it will sort out soon.

God willing.

It is good, at least, to know I am not alone. I continue to be amazed at the kindness of my new family. I suppose I shouldn’t be, but old wounds leave scars. I am so aware of how quickly one’s ‘family’ can be stripped from him, of how the truth can strike one in the head like a brick: they were never really YOUR family to begin with. I have made beter choices this time. I am more careful with my trust, and the results are good. This family, I know, is real.

Fast forward a month, to June, and now July.

More work, moving toward a new way of life. The trade I chose seems to have abandoned me. I will move forward with things more reliable. I will be a farmer for a while, as long as I am able, work the land my grandfather left me, and try to raise not only the crops, but the spirit he imbued it with.

Now, it is my own blood family, the ones I had left far behind long ago, who offer hands to me and my family in our time of need. Cousins, aunts, and uncles welcome us with open arms and sage advice. They give us shelter and tell us to pay them as we can. They trust my word to make good on my debts to them, when banks spit in my face for even trivial amounts. They save me from my ignorance, and drop everything to help me. I am overwhelmed with gratitude.

Ah, my bones are weary. So much work of late, so much sweat. It’s not the sort of work I’ve done most of my life, but it is, for once, work for me, not for others. And I have done it before. I dispised it, then. Now, I see the value of it, both in real world terms, and spiritual.

The field is almost ready, and seedlings are bursting from the cups where we planted them. It’s late in the year, and we have so little time. Fortunely, we should begin planting them in a day, perhaps two, depending on how our strength holds up. It would have been better to have more time, to have done things earlier, but this is life, not theory. You play the cards you’re dealt.

I wish I could write something more profound, more poignant. God knows, I am rife with thought and emotion, but the words are thin and reedy, too fragile to hold such things at the moment. Sorrow, hope, fear, anticipation, more strange wine. And do there need to be any words, really? Is it so different from yesterday? Will it be any different tomorrow?

I hold my son in my arms and look into his eyes. He is now four months old. His eyes are full of fear, confusion, and joyous wonder at all he sees. He understands nothing. It is all new, frightening, overwhelming. When did I begin to see this as a bad thing? Oh, what a foolish notion that was!

I realize, these long days gone by, that this is simply life. That roaring in one’s head is the hum of constant motion, the wind roaring in one’s ears. You do what you can, and you leave the rest in God’s hands.

Amrath would smile and nod at such notions. “Yes! You begin to see the truth of things! The engines of creation are fueled by chaos and dischord!”

Here I sit, now, on the porch, the humid, Georgia heat still potent even after midnight. My grandfather sat here, once, and watched over us as we played. This was his home, his land, and while he lived, it blossomed, as did we all. I look out over the yard where I played as a child, and think back to a time before I embraced the notion of order over chaos. There was magic, then. There will be magic again.

My grandfather spoke reverently of this land, and what it meant to him. Shortly before he passed on, I promised him I would preserve it. I will do my best to make good on that promise. I will sweat and toil as much as I am able.

I hope he is pleased that the flame he lit still burns.