The Road Meanders

The Road Meanders

Friday, October 25, 2013

Wrong Turn


Ok. Right when I say that I'm going to post every day, I disappear for 2 months... Just a little bit of a wrong turn on The Road, but I'm back on track again. I'll hesitate the next time I decide to get ambitious.

Now that I'm back, I feel I need to talk a little about change. I had several ideas and goals in mind when I first set out to create this project. I knew it would change as I went along. I hoped it would. I just didn't realize it would change so quickly. It just goes to show, you never know what lies beyond the next bend.

I'm not going to lay out the details of how I see this has changed. I'll just go where The Road takes me and let it happen. As I travel, I'm sure I'll ponder the changes and talk about them. 


Saturday, August 17, 2013

Another 585 Million Miles


A good friend of mine celebrates a birthday today. To honor this milestone, I've created a special birthday playlist. It's a combination of a few songs I listen to on my birthday each year and a few thrown in just for him.

WARNING: My birthday mixes are a bit like a rollercoaster. One song makes you smile and want to dance, the next makes you want to swallow razor blades. What are friends for, aye?

Have some cake and LISTEN!


Sunday, August 11, 2013

Flotsam: Scattered to the Seven Seas





[Flotsam is a series of catch-all posts that can include just about anything. If it seems even more random than the rest of the posts, then it'll likely wash ashore here.]

With a new goal to post at least one thing each day, I couldn't fall off the wagon on the second day. I decided to put this in Flotsam, because it's probably going to mirror my state of mind today. Today has seemed somehow...disjointed. It's almost as if the day was a compact disc that has a lot of scratches. It wasn't necessarily bad, just off. 

I didn't get any significant work done on If Travel Is Searching, however, I did get a lot of administrative work done. I organized some writing projects into categories. With the uptick in writing, there has been a downside. Many of the pieces have become big blackholes, eating up my time and energy and not giving anything back in return. I've went through everything I've been working on and took everything that was even questionable and moved them into a lockbox...okay, well it was the closet. It was hard, but I was able to console myself with the fact that they're not being burned by Nazis. They still exist. They'll wait for me. 

Other than that, I got a few other things done and relaxed a bit. Now, I'm getting ready to do the big thing that has gotten me through the day: the first of the final eight episodes of Breaking Bad!

Saturday, August 10, 2013

A Little Perspective




E T A Nemo often follows up a complaint with the statement "Oh well. First world problems." Sure that's true, but I'm of the opinion that everything is a matter of perspective. While your car getting a flat tire or coming down with the flu is not seeing your mother stoned to death in Afghanistan for being raped, it nonetheless affects you. You have the right to bitch about things that negatively impact you. Your world is, at some point, just that: your world. Relativity is a law that affects more than just that imaginary rocket ship traveller nearing the speed of light used in a physics thought experiment.

With all that said, I listened to a song today that brought the idea of "first world problems" into perspective. It's sung by Martha Wainwright covering her father's (Louden Wainwright III) original. Here are the lyrics and a link to the song follows.

I slept through the night, I got through to the dawn
I flipped a switch and the light went on
I got out of bed and I put some clothes on
Oh, it's a pretty good day so far

I turned the tap, there was cold, there was hot
I put on my coat to go to the shop
I stepped outside and I didn't get shot
Oh, it's a pretty good day so far

I didn't hear any sirens or explosions
No murders coming in from those heavy guns
No UN tanks and I didn't see one
It's a pretty good day so far

No snipers in windows taking a peak
No people panic, running scared through the streets
I didn't see any bodies without arms, legs or feet
It's a pretty good day

There was plasma bandages and electricity
Food, wood and water and the air was smoke free
No camera crews from my TV
It was all such a strange sight to be home
Nobody was frightened, wounded, hungry or cold
And the children seemed normal, they didn't look old
It's a pretty good day so far

I walked through a park, you would not believe it
There in the park, there were a few trees left
And on some branches, there were a few leaves
I slept through the night, I got through to the dawn
I flipped the switch and the light went on
I wrote down my dream, I made it this song
Oh, it's a pretty good day so far

Way Station




I’ve been walking down The Road for a while now. I think it’s time to sit down, rest my feet for a spell and reflect on the journey so far and The Road in general. This way station might also provide some insight into why this project started. The intent was never about writing for and directly to an audience, but since it is public there will inevitably be a few travelling companions here and there.We expect that and hope this conversation can be enjoyed from an outsider's perspective. That's the reason we made this a public discussion. However, it might be helpful  to have a little back story.

E T A Nemo and I have been friends for several years. (Our road together has been a bit meandering itself.) I’ve been interested in shared creative projects and collaborative writing for a long time, and he was also intrigued by the idea. We discussed doing something, buit as is often the case with creative endeavors, we never sat down and actually started anything.

Two years ago, we embarked on a cross-country road trip. The reason for the adventure was that E T A Nemo was moving to the opposite coast. I took a couple weeks off work to accompany him and to realize my dream of driving across the country, something I never thought I'd have a chance to do. A week into the trip found the two of us staying at a hostel in Minneapolis. Each of the hostel’s rooms was named for historical monarchs. We were given the King David Room.

Both of us are fans of the zombie fiction genre and often joke about the coming zombie apocalypse. While resting up from the drive from Chicago to Minneapolis that first evening in our hostel room, I made a joke about what we’d do once the zombies took over the world. I said that once the plague began, we wouldn’t be able to fight off the ravenous hordes together because of the distance between us. We wouldn’t be able to hole up in a mall and play out our very own “consumerism gone awry” analogistic nightmare. So I said that when it began, we should start heading toward each other and meet at a pre-determined spot around half-way. “When the world ends," I said, "let’s go to Minneapolis. Let’s meet in the King David Room."

The trip continued. We arrived at E T A Nemo’s new abode, and I returned to my life on the opposite coast, thoughts of zombie hordes and moral-less survivors pursuing me across the country all but forgotten. Some time later, and I’m not sure what it was that sparked it, something made me think about that statement. I was trying to think of a vehicle to use in a writing piece to explore some otherwise esoteric concepts. I wanted the piece to be fiction. Its underlying theme would be an existential look at relationships. Damn! Of course! A zombie love story! After a conversation with E T A Nemo over a weeklong visit, we mapped out the details. The story would be a post-apocalyptic yarn involving zombies. The twist was that both of us would be writing one half of the story from our protagonist’s point of view. Each character would be trying to get to Minneapolis to meet the other one. The two of us would not know the details of what the other was writing, what direction their stories might take, or even if the other’s character made it to the final destination. This would free us to explore themes and writing styles separately. We would have a solid framework to work within but not be beholden to the other half of the story. After more discussion, we decided to set up an online system of gathering and sharing all the things that both of us would need to know. These included important things such as the dates that certain things happen in both stories and the cause and nature of the zombie-ism, but also allowed us to put in things like rumors that one character finds out about that may or may not be true. By getting little snippets of the other’s world, both of these worlds could more seamlessly merge into a believable place without knowing the specifics of what the other was writing. One final piece needs to be worked out, but we have some time for that. It  how we will reveal our intentions for the ending to both stories to each other, as it is the only thing that each writes that directly impacts how the other tells the story.

**************************************

This project initially started out as a way to communicate while living thousands of miles apart with the focus being on this shared writing project. We wouldn’t actually share details of the actual writing itself, but for it to be the collaboration we both envisioned, there would need to be a little more involvement with each other’s life than the occasional phone call, text message, or Skype date.

I’ve been thinking a lot about the relationships we have in our lives and the nature of the interactions we have within those relationships. Take a close friend for instance. If this friend lives nearby and you see them often, what form does your conversations take? Most likely, there isn’t a cache of information you build up between each time you see and talk to them. This frees up time and helps to construct intimate space for something else to occur. The conversations now allow the sharing of a portion of your inner monologue, often without you even knowing it. That’s how you really become close to someone and know who they are.

When people are separated by distance, their conversations often take the form of “information dump.” This is understandable and important. To keep the relationship going and remain close, you need to feel that you know what is going on in the other’s life. It’s easy and almost unavoidable that the little bits and pieces of the other person’s world get swept aside and not shared. You only have this one phone call to tell them about the week’s events. You don’t have time nor the created close space to properly convey this other, seemingly unimportant information. This minutiae, however, is the glue that helps bind close relationships together.These things are not told to the other person for the purpose of sharing what’s gone on during the other's absense. It just sort of gets absorbed, and it’s exactly this osmosis that creates a feeling of being in and a part of the other person’s life.

****************************************


In the end, this project was my attempt at mimicking the little things, of perhaps substituting that glue. We will talk about the writing project, of course, but we’ll also post odd thoughts and observations. We will talk about music and politics. We will talk about annoyances and dreams. A lot of the time, like in real conversations, we won't even reply or comment on the other one's previous statement. We'll just read it, sit quietly as we absorb it, and move on. We are separated by a continent, but here we will walk down The Road side by side, chatting as if we were driving a 12- hour stretch across the Dakotas in a Honda Civic named Nigel.