30May16 Perspective

I've lived in New Orleans almost twenty years now. That's twenty sweltering Summers with me bitching about the heat.

Every year I wonder how people three hundred years ago managed to not only survive but thrive in this place. 

No air conditioning, no indoor plumbing; hell, I'm ready to kill most summers and I have both of those!

Except for today. Circumstances force me to see things from their perspective.

The kitchen sink has been clogged for a few days dispite my best efforts and I'd resolved to get the plumber round tomorrow. The last week or so I've been doing dishes and dumping buckets of water out the back door.

last night the air conditioner started throwin off sparks. It's down for the count, its eighty degrees inside right now.

I guess I'm bitchin, but not really as its not as miserable as it sounds. It even feels survivable. Everybody is still coming over to eat and watch movies and instead of cranky mymood is reflective.

I guess it all comes down to attitude sometimes. You can't change shit do why sweat it? 

I know, puny.

22May16 update

Roughly one more week before class starts. Like I mentioned in the last post It's another fiction writing course, this time online. I'm tryin to get ahead of the game this time by starting my three stories early.

The program frowns on fiction writing of a non literary type so fantasies and science fiction get no traction.

My plan was to continue my Maple Leaf series, an extension of the three I did last semester but sort of a prequel. Wanted to base the stories in the early days of the complex, nineteen fifty five or so.

That led to childhood memories of growing up in rural Ohio. I felt it a more appropriate subject matter for the stories.

Now trying to remember those times is stirring up so many memories. Momma, daddy, my friends; I can't even remember their names anymore. Wild how closing the book on some things mentally an be so effective. Also how emotionally charged those memories still are.

The first story is loosely based on my first experiences with violent death, around age ten or so. I'll post it when finished.

06may16 summer, vacation?

Not this year. Southern fiction writers here I come. Class has been physically over since last Thursday but I mailed in the last final today. Now I get two weeks or so before the summer session.

I bitched all semester long about school but the prospect of having no mission disturbed me. I'm glad I'm going this summer.