Sunday

A quiet weekend, and a quiet Sunday. I wrote this with my weekly writing group:

Robert found the box, but it was Edie who pried it open, which she said entitled her to at least half of whatever they found inside. Robert started to argue, he said Edie was always doing that, but when he saw it was nothing but a sheet of paper at the bottom of the box he lost interest and said, “Fine, you can keep it. Just…tell me what it is?”

He was worried Edie might say something like, “What, can’t you read?” And she might laugh, which she sometimes did, like everything he did or said was some kind of big joke. But she just kept looking at the paper, which was yellowed and curled at the edges with age, but also filled from top to bottom with the black scrawl of words. Robert couldn’t make any of them out — he could read, if not well — but Edie was clearly amazed by whatever the thing said.

“I think it’s some of contract,” she told him. “It’s pretty short, but it’s all kind of…I dunno, legalese.”

“Uh huh,” Robert said, “that’s…” But that was what? He started to wonder if he’d maybe made a mistake; maybe the paper (or even the box) had some kind of value after all. They could bring it to, he didn’t know, auction or something. Maybe it had historical significance. People were always paying good money for old things, and maybe it didn’t matter if this was just a single sheet of paper if it was the last will and testament of Paul Revere or something like that. “That’s interesting,” he said.

“Get a load of this,” said Edie. “It’s a contract for somebody’s soul.”

Robert sighed, but out of relief more than anything else. So, okay, interesting, but that’s all that it was. Somebody’s idea of a joke, but nothing they could make any money off of. Let Edie keep it. He didn’t have to feel cheated, because there was nothing to be cheated out of. He smiled.

“It’s a contract from somebody selling their soul to the devil in May of 1976,” Edie said. “Somebody named — ” she scanned the page — “David Falconer.”

Robert sighed, this time he hoped a little more loudly. There had to be something here at the dump they could turn a profit on.

“’The bearer of this document is hereby granted full and binding custody of my earthly and mortal soul’” Edie read. “It’s signed and dated and everything.”

“Is it, whadyacallit, notarized?” Robert asked.

“He was selling it to the devil, but here it is.”

It’s more an idea than a story, but I like the idea.

Last night, I watched Cloud Atlas…and didn’t much like it. There are a couple of good movies lurking within it — I’m not spoiling anything by saying there are six loosely interconnected stories across many different time periods — but there’s also a lot that doesn’t work, most everything doesn’t work well together, and there’s also an over-abundance of very bad makeup. Seriously, I don’t know which was less convincing, the six-foot Hugo Weaving as a female nurse or the Korean-born Doona Bae as a redheaded American abolitionist. (I’ll go with Nurse Noakes, if only because she’s part of what is easily the film’s worst sequences.)

David Mitchell’s original novel, which I read and quite enjoyed back in 2006, creates connections between the characters and settings mostly through tricks of narrative nesting. I’m not sure the film benefits from making those connections literal, by having the same actors portray many different characters (often aided by that aforementioned makeup). It gets silly quickly, and repeatedly, which does not seem like the film’s intent. And I’m not entirely convinced that the message of “our lives are all connected and everything we do recurs” was necessarily the book’s intent, much less that we needed nearly three hours of prosthetic noses to get that message across.

But that was pretty much the extend of my weekend.

Workaday Wednesday

Another day, and this one kind of zipped past.

I had a meeting this morning to discuss a textbook I recently put into production, and that went well despite the competing books I’d ordered for the meeting not showing up until about an hour after it. They were supposed to have been delivered yesterday, but it really wasn’t a big deal.

Then I spent the rest of the day following up on some points from that meeting — e-mailing the author and design — and working on another report. Not the 300-plus-page one that’s been taking up so much of my time lately — that’s almost done — but another one that should probably go out sooner rather than later.

On the train ride home, I finished reading Kaye Gibbons’ short novel Ellen Foster. Oprah apparently picked it for her Book Club back in 1997, but I wasn’t terribly impressed. I picked it only because it was short.

And that was…Wednesday, right? How the week is flying by.

Tuesday

A perfectly ordinary Monday, which is thankfully Tuesday, and which seemed to go by much quicker without that extra bit of summer hours at the end of the day. I wonder if Fridays will seem exceptionally long for the next couple of weeks, as they once again become ordinary work days, but I actually doubt it.

Anyway, in lieu of content or news, here’s my August music mix:

  1. “Head Full of Doubt/Road Full of Promise” by the Avett Brothers
  2. “You Turned My Head Around” by Dean & Britta
  3. “Lent” by Autoheart
  4. “Black Soul Choir” by 16 Horsepower
  5. “Go On” by Basia Bulat
  6. “Disco Compilation” by Serafina Steer
  7. “There’s So Much Energy in Us” by Cloud Cult
  8. “Ebony Sky” by Young Fathers
  9. “Stand and Deliver” by Adam Ant
  10. “Wondering Where the Lions Are” by Bruce Cockburn
  11. “Just Breathe” by Peal Jam
  12. “It’s All Okay” by Julia Stone
  13. “Dancing in the Devil’s Shoes” by Guilemots
  14. “Who Will Comfort Me” by Melody Gardot
  15. “Ohio” by Patty Griffin

August was kind of a lousy month in a couple of respects — computer and spine both deciding to crap out on me — but it did seem to turn around a bit near the end. I certainly can’t fault the month for not going by quickly. And I like these songs, so there’s that.

Though, frankly, I’m just amazed it’s September. It’s not remotely autumn yet, at least not as far as the humidity is concerned, but it’s getting there.

Sunday

It’s a long weekend, which, thanks to the last week of summer hours, started early on Friday. I’ll miss those half days at the end of the week a little, I think, but I’ll be glad to go back to a normal work day starting on Tuesday. I can’t claim to have made any great use of those free hours on Friday all summer; most often, I’d come home and decided to read or watch something (a movie or TV) and find myself nodding off in my chair, falling asleep. I don’t know that an extra hour of work every other day is really worth it for a Friday afternoon nap.

This Friday I managed to stay awake, watching Fast Times at Ridgemont High, which I’d somehow managed to never see. (Maybe because I was five when it first came out.) It’s exceptionally dated, very much a movie of the very early ’80s, but in some real ways that works in the movie’s favor. In 1982, Roger Ebert called it “a scuz-pit of a movie,” but history has been much kinder. I don’t know if Ebert ever revised his opinion, but the movie is considerably less raunchy and scuzzy than a lot of comedies in the three decades since. Fast Times is funny a well observed, and it’s an interesting snapshot of the time.

I can’t the same, at all, about Elektra, which I watched on Friday night. With the recent announcement that Ben Affleck would be cast as Batman in the upcoming Man of Steel sequel, I’ve honestly been wondering if I should maybe revisit his earlier superhero movie, Daredevil. (Affleck also once played George Reeves, TV’s Superman, in Hollywoodland, but I don’t see that connection being made much in the discussion.) I don’t remember Daredevil being very good, but there’s that whole “history being kinder” thing to consider. Colin Farrell and Michael Clarke Duncan certainly seemed to be enjoying themselves… And honestly, my reservations (or in fact doubts) about a Man of Steel sequel, and Batman being in it, and a Superman vs. Batman movie, don’t really stem at all from the casting.

But Daredevil wasn’t available, and I’m not paying good money to sit through it again. (I’m also not convinced it’s worth sitting through again, just in the off chance some of it’s okay.) So I watched Elektra, which is a spin-off in that the character appears in the earlier movie, played again by Jennifer Garner, and they’re linked characters in the comics, but it doesn’t have a whole lot to do with Daredevil the movie. Which doesn’t make it any good either, unfortunately. Strangely, some of the acting is rather good, but the film falls down on almost every other level: script, direction, cinematography, musical score. Long stretches are just tedious, and the climactic fight scenes are just kind of dumb. (Will Yun Lee’s main bad guy basically just has the power to throw sheets up in the air. I wish I could say that was an exaggeration.)

So anyway, not a very good movie. I was going to watch a movie tonight, but then I remembered there’s a new episode of Breaking Bad.

Otherwise, it’s been a pretty average couple of day. I did some reading, I’m working on edits for the next issue of Kaleidotrope — next month! — and I wrote this:

“All that’s happening here has happened before,” said Fleet Commander Admiral Jeremiah Wells as he looked out into the ampitheater and its rows of graduating cadets. “And chances are good it will all happen again. But I hardly need remind you of that. You have months of training under your belts, each of you, and no doubt you’ve each seen your share of reports from the front. I can’t say I approve of that — there’s a place and a time for war reports, and I’m not convinced academy training is either. But better you too prepared than not at all. You know what you’re facing, and where the fleet will be headed, and I’m quite sure each one of you will do the temporal navy proud.”

It wasn’t much of a pep talk, well meant but uninspired, and delivered by a man who was clearly unaccustomed to public speaking. Which, on the face of it, was ridiculous. Wells had given this speech a thousand times, perhaps a hundred thousand. He has said so himself just now, when he said all of this had happened before. Josey wasn’t sure how often Wells had been hit by repeaters — even the fleet’s best scientists didn’t know how often the enemy had used their temporal weapons — but if it was true that basically everyone on board the flagship was a casualty of the Loop on some level, if even she could expect to feel its effects despite having ported from Earth less than one year (standard) ago, then she could only imagine how it must feel for Wells, how often the Admiral had lived through these very same moments, given this very same speech. He ought to seem a lot more practiced for all of that.

Yet obviously he had other things on his mind, and inducting the graduating class into the fleet for the hundreth-thousandth time could not have been a top priority.

There were reports, Josey knew, of rising sea levels on Base Europa, the ice starting to thin and crack; she’d be stationed there herself in a week — that was a week standard but also several more days of cryo — but maybe not for much longer if the frozen continents continued to shift, if the moon’s waters began to seep in and make operations there untenable. And if the fleet lost Europa, where was there left to draw back?

They’d managed to suture together a quarrantine zone for Earth in the first years of the war, and those lines of defense, though sometimes shaky, still stood. There’d never been a repeater blast topside on Earth in forty years and, god willing, there never would be. The fleet was here to protect Earth from that kind of temporal confusion, to prevent the Loop from circling further in — if they couldn’t find a way to counteract or cure its effect altogether and wage a war of offensive against the enemy.

A speech to several dozen frightened students hardly seemed to matter in the scheme of all that, however many times it had appeared to happen or would happen again. Josey knew all this, but still, it wouldn’t have hurt the Admiral to try just a little harder.

Thursday

When the best decision you make all day is to buy an orange and eat it at lunch, this suggests a number of possible things. One: all of the other decisions you’ve made that day have not been good. Two: you’ve made precious few decisions that day at all. Or three: it was an incredibly tasty orange.

It was a good orange, which I decided to add to my turkey sandwich and soda on a last-minute whim. It’s not much, as far as whims go, but it was a nice grace note to my lunch, while I sat and listened to the audiobook of Stephen King’s Wizard and Glass.

I tried making some other decisions. I wouldn’t call them “not good,” but they didn’t necessarily pan out:

Me: I’m not sure I want to attend this presentation next month…
Company: Oh, but you should.
Me: Really? Well, okay…
Company: But it’s full.
Me: Oh…
Company: But hey, here, we’ve set up another session on a different day.
Me: I don’t know…that conflicts with a meeting I already have scheduled for that morning…
Company: C’mon, everybody’s going! Don’t be left out!
Me: Well, since you put it that way… All right. So I just click this link here and —
Company: Oh sorry. That session is full.

Yep. Its not critical that I go, but it did seem like it would be useful. I mean, I skipped having a day of telecommuting this week just so I could attend another presentation, so it’s not like I’m unwilling.

I spent almost every other moment of the day working on a massive research report. It’s three hundred and twenty-something pages right now and counting, and it has consumed a lot of my time over the past couple of weeks. It’s partly my own fault for including so many instructors in the research — you ask thirty people nearly thirty questions each and you have to expect a lot of data to sift through — but I wanted as even a split between US and UK instructors as I could get. I didn’t quite get that, in part because this has been a lousy summer for getting reviewers to commit and then deliver their feedback. (That, or I’m just tangled in a string of bad luck.) But I’m fairly pleased with what I did pull together, and now I’m just trying to pull together some sense in it all, whereby I can make some active recommendations that will hopefully help us sell more copies of this one textbook and others in the same area.

And finally, summer hours are over after this week. I liked having a half day on Friday — tomorrow’s the last one — but I’ll really be glad to get back to the old work schedule. Especially as we move into autumn and the sun starts setting a little earlier. It’s already started to happen, a little, although otherwise, weather-wise, we still seem stuck firmly in hot and humid summer.

I think I just might be ready for fall, for long sleeves and jackets. August was a fast month, but not a great one, and I think it’s cured me of wanting an endless summer.