Tag Archives: amerrica

paucity of posting

My internet here today has been really intermittent. Not time-wise, but site-wise. Some sites I can get to; some remind me of China. I blame the cold. The cold is also hampering the rest of my productivity, hence the lack of interesting posting going on. I do encourage you to read my vagabondscrawl site (or its feed), which has links to things I’m reading at least. My numb little fingers don’t need to work as hard to share stuff as they do to type intelligibly.

But I learned that two of my friends are going back to Nanchong this month. Holly I knew about, but Phil too! This extra incentive means sometime this year I’ll probably end up out there for a visit. Especially since Sean and I didn’t manage to see Phil on our trip to Amerrica this fall. Maybe I’d be able to take the train up to Tibet this time around…

Had a good chat with Holly today. She’s off visiting people in various non-Virginian states, and she said something I understood so much I’m reproducing it here without her consent: “I could feel myself snap into pay-attention mode as soon as we got on the road out of Harrisonburg.” I do so love that feeling, how it happens and you stop foggy living and go into the real stuff.

On a good day I can hit that without going somewhere new. I wrote a story at 3am the other day moments after snapping out of a dream, and I had that feeling. There’s a wall I used to bike past in September and October that at a certain time of day reflected so much warmth at me it always felt like a new thing. Last night walking home from work in the cold a dog got mad at me walking and barked and barked all mad from its confined backyard and I got all those primal goosebumps of fear. There are those moments, but man pay-attention mode is a lot easier to do when you’re somewhere else. And all your calories aren’t going directly into staying warm.

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ding! save point

It seems last week was the random week in which people wanted to know what was up with my novel, but I reached a milestone this morning, so I’ll talk a bit about it.

The milestone is that the whole second draft is done. The second draft wasn’t a major reworking kind of draft, just a “get this out of the notebooks and onto a computer for the real editing” kind of thing. One would think that wouldn’t take a long time, but I let myself get distracted this summer with moving and going to the Redwoods and trying to work on a couple of different projects as a break from this. But once I realized the Amerrica trip wasn’t inspiring stuff that needed to get written down right away, I shifted back to 3DWorlder and did some plugging away at it in between working a pile of hours at work.

So. In its current form the book is 53000 words long. That is too short to be sellable, but that’s okay right now because the third draft is going to rip this apart and completely restructure it and in the end it’ll bear very little resemblance to what it is now. I should be able to make up the 17000 words that get it into the right zone. I mean, the story is all there, but now I’m going to tell it better. I’ll go through everything and decide which character is best suited for telling which section. I’ll flesh out the sense of things in all those places I just have dialogue driving everything forward. I’ll get things more consistent and start scrambling up the structure. By the time it’s done (which will be a long while yet) I’ll have something pretty cool, I think. I’d started some of the third draft stuff already on some of the early bits and those bits are already much better than they were, so Hope! Progress!

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ass in chair

I’m back on my 10 pages/day regimen, which feels good, feels important to return to. Before leaving on the Amerrica trip I’d had this notion in my head that I’d be able to do maybe 5-8/day while on the road. I had visions of all the great roadishness I’d be able to capture. That didn’t happen. I think by the end of actual travelling I had a little over 1 page/day but even that wasn’t comprehensive or interesting. When we camped outside Denver in the rain I was really unhappy with the amount and quality of writing I’d gotten done. I’d thought this trip would be like going to China last March, where I did lots of writing (not all of it great but not all shitty either), but I got stuck out there just writing down what happened in our days. Nothing interesting, nothing essential even. Just lists of facts.

Then in North Platte, Nebraska, I hit my hook and the writing, the how this little book was going to work, clicked into place. Of course that was our last night in the states so it stayed in my head as plans. Yesterday I started getting the real writing about this trip down. The notebook has completely lost any semblance of chronology now, but it’s for the best.

Thankfully my table works beautifully as a writing spot. I was a little worried, but it’s got the stability it needs and the light and the heater is right next to it. Signs point to yes for filling up notebooks here. I still can’t do real work on the computer yet because of the boxes in my study. And the mess on that desk. So the 3dWorlder editing is on hiatus for a while as I get the Amerrica trip scrawled out.

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the fair (day 8)

One of the most American things Sean and I did on our trip through the west was go to the Puyallup (pronounced “pyu-WALL-up”) Fair with Scott and Emily. It’s the largest state fair in some amount of area and is one of the town’s big touristic draws. As an illustration of how big it is, the website for this fair is thefair.com. They’re big enough to get a domain name that makes them the archetypal fair for a random internet searcher. I suppose fair.com would techincally be even better but it looks like squatters have that domain. Ah, here’s some info from the About Us page:

The Puyallup Fair (officially known as the Western Washington Fair) is the largest single attraction held annually in the state of Washington. The Fair continually ranks in the top ten largest fairs in the world… Situated south of Seattle and east of Tacoma in the shadow of majestic Mount Rainier, the Fair & Events Center comprises 169+ acres, with buildings and land valued at more than $54 million. The facilities are available for rent during the year, making the grounds a valuable community resource. A staff of 55 works year-round. Over 1,900+ employees are hired each September during the Puyallup Fair.

It was pretty huge and filled with animals, gawpers and, well, Fair Folk.

The day we were there, a sunny Saturday which sunburned my neck from at least one direction, the 4H competition for showing cats was happening. There were two big halls filled with decorated cages and their cats sleeping inside. The cages were gussied up according to different themes, like “Pirates” or “A Turkish Harem.” Kids were roaming around waiting to be called up to present their cat to judges, to show off its attributes and answer questions about it. Why cats? A helpful informative sign informed the fair-goer that it was to give kids whose families couldn’t invest in large livestock the chance to learn about animal husbandry. There were people off riding their horses doing vaguely the same thing in a nearby barn, but the cats man, the cats. We sat in the stands for a while and Sean was chatting with a woman who had two kids showing off their cats. Sean gave some applause to her son and was promptly shushed by other non-related cat-parents. We settled for being the weird strangers giving this lady’s kids thumbs up whenever they looked at their mom.

Emily had told me that Funnel Cake is the best fair food so we spent much of our time searching for the elusive beast. While searching we stumbled upon a painfully sad animal show (Mad About Monkeys), cribbage exhibitions, scarecrows, the Republican Party booth, a human cannonball act (oh but he was a showman though), the midway, chainsaw carved wooden bears and Mutton Busting.

Oh Mutton Busting, the cruellest sport. “The Toughest Sport on Wool” they called it. The premise is simple: A child no more than 6 years old and no more than 60lbs is given a helmet and protective vest. The child is put on the back of a sheep and told to hang on as tight as she can. The sheep is released to run terrified across the earth and if the child hangs on for 8 seconds, hooray. None of the (28!) children we saw made it 8 seconds. There were three year olds whose parents agreed to this, not only agreed, but paid to give their child the opportunity for pain and humiliation of jerks laughing their asses as they faceplanted into the ground. The announcer made a big deal of how no child was forced to do anything they didn’t want to do, and any child too small would be picked off the sheep before they could fall (we were instructed to cheer extra hard for those kids so they wouldn’t feel like failures), but everything I heard seemed to go something along the lines of “Okay now we’ve got Janey who’s 5 years old and 47lbs soaking wet and… what’s this? She doesn’t really want to do this? Oh no, but her dad says she’ll be okay. And she’s off!” Twenty-eight kids did this. That’s 56 signatures from parents. It was insane. The best mutton buster got the chance to compete that night for a belt buckle in the big rodeo, but parents could buy a buckle if the kid didn’t win too.

We did eventually find Funnel Cake which I enjoyed. It was just deep-fried dough, but when have I ever disliked deep-fried dough? By the end I think it was a more enjoyable diversion than going to the Huskies game would have been, especially given the agonizing way they lost to BYU.

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in amerrica…

Sean and I are back from Amerrica (the extra “r” is for redwoods) and I have a pile of writing to do. Until that all gets settled out, here’s the preliminary set of photos on Flickr. They’re all geotagged so you can see on a map where we were (roughly) for each of them. There are more pictures but these were the more representative I could find as I combed through the gigs of cards I just dumped onto my hard drive.

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bonnonvoyage

Tomorrow I’m leaving for California with Sean. I may or may not be updating this from the road. Expect updates when I get home though. That’ll be September 18.

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back on the line

I’m moved into my new place and it actually feels like it now that the internet is connected. First thing I’m looking at: The National Parks Service website, since now that I’m moved (but not fully unpacked) the next exciting thing I’m doing is gallivanting west across the continent towards trees. That’ll be on August 30 when I leave, and I’d say I’ll be out of internet contact starting then because I’ll be off being an outside kid sort of, but evidently campgrounds are littered with WiFi in the 21st century. Hooray for the future. Bringing the inside out and all that jazz.

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and grace too

On Tuesday I woke up knowing I had to be at work by 10am. From my bed I could see the sky and it was that low hanging kind of cloud. “Great,” I thought, “it must have rained all night. There will be puddles.” This was a concern because Tuesday was going to be my first time biking to work for reals. Puddles are a bit inconvenient especially when you’re riding old roads that are uneven enough to collect a lot of water (not like a nice freshly asphalted bikepath, say).

Then I got out of bed and saw it was still raining and I may have fallen to my knees gnashing my teeth. Why did this happen the first day I was going to ride my bike to work. It was all going to go so well, getting my legs and lungs all ready for hiking and shit in the forests and canyons of the Journey to the West. And I said “I guess I’ll take the bus.” I hung my head. Sad music played on the radio.

But! I realized what a slippery slope I was opening that can of worms on. If I just didn’t ride today because it was horribly wet, what happens the first day it’s windy? Or colder than I might like? What happens then? I’d then have a precedent for not biking and it would be much harder to drag my bike from the basement. No, I had to go on.

So I biked to work, quickly noticing I’ve never put fenders on my bike. So it didn’t take long to abandon myself to being soaked through. I had a change of clothes with me and by the end of my three hour shift everything but my feet had dried out so I could get all clad in my wet biking clothes to go home. I wonder if my runners will ever get dry.

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i don’t hate it here so much

This morning I biked down to SWS to see how long it would take. Twenty minutes there, twenty five back. There was only the slightest breeze so I figure this is a good baseline. I also took two different routes to see if it made a difference. I was also riding my bike in a single gear, trying to see if I should make the switch over. My gears haven’t been in the best shape lately and something simpler with less maintenance to neglect might be a good idea. In any case, climbing the Arlington Bridge with a single gear sucks. Logan to Keewatin and the gentle underpass there seems to be my friend.

I think this might have been my first cycling of the summer. But now I know how long it takes and I figure I’ll bike to work at least for the rest of August to get my endurance up for hiking around trees and canyons in September. And then maybe in September since I’ll get back too late for a bus pass to make any economic sense. I probably won’t bike the whole winter though. And if I do I’m getting a shitty bike to do it with.

One thing I’m glad I’ve been doing since returning to Winnipeg is making more of the city my home. I felt this biking around today. Before I had my interview at SWS I doubt I’d ever been down Keewatin before. Back in the day my city was fairly narrowly defined as the affluent southwest parts. Moving in with Alison has been great because the whole central downtown feels a lot more like mine now. It’s not some big production to go downtown, it’s a fifteen minute walk I do all the time. I like that. These places north of the trainyards are a big part of our city too. SWS is next to a Filipino cultural centre and all the real estate agent signs say stuff like “Find your home, with a Filipino touch!” (This must count as one of the Things White People Like, right?) And you can often forget about that diversity when you’re a Tuxedo, River Heights, Charleswood kind of kid.

I’m trying to get into this city. To be part of my hometown. I think stuff like biking walking and bussing makes a difference in that. It makes you feel a bit more connected. I was hoping to make the Arlington Bridge part of my commute because of its history the Poor Choices song, but I think my legs and lungs will thank me for going around it. Especially in winter.

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