Thursday, March 16, 2006
Where did my post go?
I thought I updated Monday... Where did it go? I'm confused... The WASL is turning my brian to MUSH. Stupid test. Oh well, Monday I biked 7.8 miles around the lake. Meant to go today but I went to improv clup instead. Hysterically funny. Definately biking tomorrow.
Bounty Hunter and the Ghost chp 1
I thought I updated on Monday... AH the WASL is turning my brain to mush. Thank god it's done until April. Evil test. Bleck.
Oh well, Monday I rode 7.8 miles around the lake. I meant to go today as well but I went to improv club instead. It was hysterical.
Here is the first chapter of the story tentaively entitled The Bounty Hunter and the Ghost. Kudos for anyone who can recognize who Ms. Cross and Lord Wilson are.
****
The sun had just faltered behind a heavy cloud. A shadow sunk over the entire estate like the silence settling over a crowd at the theater, foreboding and inviting at the same time. The three people that sat inside the conservatory, next to the palm they had watered with coffee that was now starting to rot, were laughing enough they didn’t notice the shadow. Outside the gates a small puttering automobile stopped in front of the winged yaks like it was lost. It stood there for a moment until it’s diver steered it through the gates and up the weedy path. Belching once it braked in front of the dark purple doors.
“That is a really cool suit,” Leopold craned around the fuchsia.
“Where?” Vita asked.
“There.” The other two turned around. The driver of the automobile had gotten out and was picking his way around the pond towards the conservatory door.
“I want his suit,” Alistair said. It was a bright red suit, obviously new.
“It’s a brilliant suit,” Vita agreed. Leopold glanced over his should at Lord Wilson, buried in his book. They turned back to their table as the mane came in the glass conservatory door.
“Ah, hello,” he stopped by Vita’s shoulder. She turned and stared up at him. He had a puffy face that crinkled at his eyes and al seemed to meet at his nose. When the breeze from his movement reached their table all three could smell the Parisian cologne. “I was a wond’ring,” he had a high reedy voice that lilted in a Cajun accent. “If you could tell me how to get to Radcliff.”
“Ah, that way.” All three pointed out the window towards a tree.
“Okay.”
“Um,” Leopold sat up. “Get back on the road – ”
“The highway?” the man asked.
“Yeah, and go that way,” he gestured over his shoulder. “And you should see signs for Radcliff in about ten miles.”
“Then miles that way?” he asked anxiously.
“Yeah,” all three said. “Can’t miss it.”
“Thank you,” his eyes crinkled at them. “Thankou very much.” A cough of cold air blustered in when he opened and closed the door.
“It’ll be a miracle if he gets there,” Vita said. Alistair shrugged.
“Cool suit thought,” Leopold said.
The door opened at the other end of the room and Ms. Cross strode in, pretending to be confident.
“Okay! Let’s start the writing warm up!” she cried, as if this was something they had been waiting for all day. Alistair glanced at Lord Wilson who’s bushy eyebrows were just visible over War and Peace, he rolled his eyes. “Today – ” But what they were doing they never found out, for Ms. Cross was interrupted by a crash and two screams. The crash was very loud and shook the whole room. The first scream was much more a yip than a scream and was made by Ms. Cross. The second scream was a low angry howl that came from above them.
“Fucking hell!” Vita bellowed.
“Astrid’s upset again,” Alistair remarked.
“We’d better go calm her down,” Leopold groaned.
“Oh yes, lets.” They scampered out the door before Ms. Cross could stop them. Astrid had been living in the attic long for much longer than any of the children had been there. According to the story Lord Wilson had told on the night of their arrival she was the sister of the duchess who had first owned the manor. The way Lord Wilson told it they had all been very happy until one day, quite unexpectedly, Astrid had slit her throat. After that the Duchess had moved to London but hadn’t sold the house until she died and Lord Wilson inherited it, who was her cousin. Astrid still haunted the attic, throwing things around whenever she thought it was getting too quiet. Or when Ms. Cross was trying to get something done. The children were the only ones who could get her to calm down, they sat with and told stories about what was going on in the manor and in the world until she went and locked herself in a closet. Which they assumed meant she was happy.
“I wonder why she killed herself,” Leopold mused as they climbed up the stairs to the attic.
“Maybe she was being blackmailed,” Alistair said.
“Or knew a terrible secret.”
“Or she wanted to make somebody feel really really really guilty.”
“Maybe she was just unhappy,” Vita broke in.
“Why though?” Leopold asked.
“Shhh,” Alistair pushed open the door to the attic. It was a long room that ran the length of the manor and was stuffed with all sorts of junk that no one had touched in centuries.
“Astrid?” Vita called softly. A chair threw itself across the room and they ducked.
“You don’t like the writing warms either, do you,” Leopold said. Something whirled out from behind a dresser and Astrid was in front of them, pointing one long bony finger and howling. After a year her wild black hair, her sunken eyes, torn dress, dirty bare feet, and white scar on her neck had stopped scaring them, but her scream still made their hair stand on end. “Thanks though,” Alistair said loudly over the din. “It’s great to get out of them.” Astrid stopped screaming and the farthest corner of her mouth twitched. It was the closest they had ever gotten to a smile.
*****
There we are. So... what should happen next?
Oh well, Monday I rode 7.8 miles around the lake. I meant to go today as well but I went to improv club instead. It was hysterical.
Here is the first chapter of the story tentaively entitled The Bounty Hunter and the Ghost. Kudos for anyone who can recognize who Ms. Cross and Lord Wilson are.
****
The sun had just faltered behind a heavy cloud. A shadow sunk over the entire estate like the silence settling over a crowd at the theater, foreboding and inviting at the same time. The three people that sat inside the conservatory, next to the palm they had watered with coffee that was now starting to rot, were laughing enough they didn’t notice the shadow. Outside the gates a small puttering automobile stopped in front of the winged yaks like it was lost. It stood there for a moment until it’s diver steered it through the gates and up the weedy path. Belching once it braked in front of the dark purple doors.
“That is a really cool suit,” Leopold craned around the fuchsia.
“Where?” Vita asked.
“There.” The other two turned around. The driver of the automobile had gotten out and was picking his way around the pond towards the conservatory door.
“I want his suit,” Alistair said. It was a bright red suit, obviously new.
“It’s a brilliant suit,” Vita agreed. Leopold glanced over his should at Lord Wilson, buried in his book. They turned back to their table as the mane came in the glass conservatory door.
“Ah, hello,” he stopped by Vita’s shoulder. She turned and stared up at him. He had a puffy face that crinkled at his eyes and al seemed to meet at his nose. When the breeze from his movement reached their table all three could smell the Parisian cologne. “I was a wond’ring,” he had a high reedy voice that lilted in a Cajun accent. “If you could tell me how to get to Radcliff.”
“Ah, that way.” All three pointed out the window towards a tree.
“Okay.”
“Um,” Leopold sat up. “Get back on the road – ”
“The highway?” the man asked.
“Yeah, and go that way,” he gestured over his shoulder. “And you should see signs for Radcliff in about ten miles.”
“Then miles that way?” he asked anxiously.
“Yeah,” all three said. “Can’t miss it.”
“Thank you,” his eyes crinkled at them. “Thankou very much.” A cough of cold air blustered in when he opened and closed the door.
“It’ll be a miracle if he gets there,” Vita said. Alistair shrugged.
“Cool suit thought,” Leopold said.
The door opened at the other end of the room and Ms. Cross strode in, pretending to be confident.
“Okay! Let’s start the writing warm up!” she cried, as if this was something they had been waiting for all day. Alistair glanced at Lord Wilson who’s bushy eyebrows were just visible over War and Peace, he rolled his eyes. “Today – ” But what they were doing they never found out, for Ms. Cross was interrupted by a crash and two screams. The crash was very loud and shook the whole room. The first scream was much more a yip than a scream and was made by Ms. Cross. The second scream was a low angry howl that came from above them.
“Fucking hell!” Vita bellowed.
“Astrid’s upset again,” Alistair remarked.
“We’d better go calm her down,” Leopold groaned.
“Oh yes, lets.” They scampered out the door before Ms. Cross could stop them. Astrid had been living in the attic long for much longer than any of the children had been there. According to the story Lord Wilson had told on the night of their arrival she was the sister of the duchess who had first owned the manor. The way Lord Wilson told it they had all been very happy until one day, quite unexpectedly, Astrid had slit her throat. After that the Duchess had moved to London but hadn’t sold the house until she died and Lord Wilson inherited it, who was her cousin. Astrid still haunted the attic, throwing things around whenever she thought it was getting too quiet. Or when Ms. Cross was trying to get something done. The children were the only ones who could get her to calm down, they sat with and told stories about what was going on in the manor and in the world until she went and locked herself in a closet. Which they assumed meant she was happy.
“I wonder why she killed herself,” Leopold mused as they climbed up the stairs to the attic.
“Maybe she was being blackmailed,” Alistair said.
“Or knew a terrible secret.”
“Or she wanted to make somebody feel really really really guilty.”
“Maybe she was just unhappy,” Vita broke in.
“Why though?” Leopold asked.
“Shhh,” Alistair pushed open the door to the attic. It was a long room that ran the length of the manor and was stuffed with all sorts of junk that no one had touched in centuries.
“Astrid?” Vita called softly. A chair threw itself across the room and they ducked.
“You don’t like the writing warms either, do you,” Leopold said. Something whirled out from behind a dresser and Astrid was in front of them, pointing one long bony finger and howling. After a year her wild black hair, her sunken eyes, torn dress, dirty bare feet, and white scar on her neck had stopped scaring them, but her scream still made their hair stand on end. “Thanks though,” Alistair said loudly over the din. “It’s great to get out of them.” Astrid stopped screaming and the farthest corner of her mouth twitched. It was the closest they had ever gotten to a smile.
*****
There we are. So... what should happen next?
Thursday, March 09, 2006
New urg time!
First 2k time: 9:09
New 2k time: 8:25
HAHAHAAHAH!!!! I'm good. I want to die, but I'm good. I have wings of pain across my back. Except I don't feel like a bird, I feel like a mole.
Going to bed.
Oh: proposal for a new Jarkersim god, Armadillo the Glyptodon, god of physics?
And can I be Vita the Prophet? Under Jeff the Messiah Prophet of course.
New 2k time: 8:25
HAHAHAAHAH!!!! I'm good. I want to die, but I'm good. I have wings of pain across my back. Except I don't feel like a bird, I feel like a mole.
Going to bed.
Oh: proposal for a new Jarkersim god, Armadillo the Glyptodon, god of physics?
And can I be Vita the Prophet? Under Jeff the Messiah Prophet of course.
Thursday, March 02, 2006
Sharks
Ah Thursday. Along with Tuesday my least favorite day of the week. Both just seem so hopeless. And tomorrow honestly doesn't feel like Friday. Not at all. Oh well, it is. That's enough.
Went out to Evergreen with Parker. 15 min on the eliptical machine. Stretching and an erg piece. See other workout schedules for my sets and reps, they are consistant. Except the suggested arm workout which Parker changed to 80 lbs and I almost died. Really. Arms dead and gone. Bleh.
Done with the physics articles thank god. Got a little strange towards the end. Best sentance written tonight: "Officials say they will release the shark if she show any signs of death" Which was quickly changed to illness but you can see I wrote death.
My god I'm terrified of sharks. Even more scared of them then clowns.
Went out to Evergreen with Parker. 15 min on the eliptical machine. Stretching and an erg piece. See other workout schedules for my sets and reps, they are consistant. Except the suggested arm workout which Parker changed to 80 lbs and I almost died. Really. Arms dead and gone. Bleh.
Done with the physics articles thank god. Got a little strange towards the end. Best sentance written tonight: "Officials say they will release the shark if she show any signs of death" Which was quickly changed to illness but you can see I wrote death.
My god I'm terrified of sharks. Even more scared of them then clowns.
Wednesday, March 01, 2006
Brahms
The daffodils have started blooming. Just a few. In a week it'll be a solid block of yellow. It'll be beautiful.
Took my now usual route around the lake for my bike ride today. I'm going to have to find another one soon, this one's getting too short. I've progressed from five miles to eight, if I continue that trend my next route will have to be eleven. But today was nice, the weather was perfect. Not too cold and cloudy. No rain either, which was nice.
And right now, I've got Brahms cello sonatas competeing with Return of the King downstairs. Rather an interesting combination.
Took my now usual route around the lake for my bike ride today. I'm going to have to find another one soon, this one's getting too short. I've progressed from five miles to eight, if I continue that trend my next route will have to be eleven. But today was nice, the weather was perfect. Not too cold and cloudy. No rain either, which was nice.
And right now, I've got Brahms cello sonatas competeing with Return of the King downstairs. Rather an interesting combination.
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