EleCivil

To everyone asking about the next chapter: Soon! I'm hoping to finish it up tomorrow, Tuesday at the latest. This one's gone through a lot of re-writes.

Very cool, Codey.

I like this story a lot, and I've been following the sequel (Opportunity Cost) over at Nifty. Like Graeme said, cool characters, and I love the nontraditional twists on some of the genre standards.

Haha, yeah. I remember thinking "Oh, no need to worry about lightning - my $20.00 extension cord has a built-in surge protector! Says so right on the box!" One fried motherboard and power supply later, I started unplugging everything whenever storms roll through.

*Falls over* Gotta give props to the Dude for that one. Great find, Sir Dudeness. Money? For writing? But wouldn't that make me some kind of...prose-titute? *Ducks tomatoes*

Such strong phrasing: "Beset by brigands" "Chasing mavericks with fiery tails" "Fitful dream" ...Really gives a powerful sense of being there, of feeling things. Cool one, Codey.

A little set of four poems based on four streets I walked on today. And yes, the gate in the last one is the same as the gate in this poem: http://awesomedude.com/bb/viewtopic.php?t=435 The extra dots in the third one are there because my formatting wouldn't show up on the board. Just imagine that they're blank space, instead. -------------- Streets Quartet [southern Security] To Andover crossed with careful watch For fences left unlatched And dogs unchained in full disdain Of passing gratis glance At a corner there were two that stood Grinding gears for tongues But we were born a louder breed Barks rolling from our lungs Hold confidence in swinging hips In eyes a bluster lit For locks can claim their causes just And keep our legs unbit Though sad to see the chains and gates For safety comes a cost Our rolling freedom footfalls worth All paid in others? loss [Westerly Uncertainty] To Vernice strode, beloved, quote Gypsies, release me this curse The world weighs down the ones Caught walking underneath And shoulders strong can crack along The ridges left by bricks Instead of trying to carry me home Just hold me close beside With caution calm and palm to palm We?ll stumble over branches And break our knees together So matching casts our consciousness Can mend these fractured fortunes Futures welded warmest chance With coldest calculations [North-bound Breakspeed] So Stickney stretched for miles on but only feet for us Before the train had roared across to carry Things we?d never get to see to places We?d never find the time to visit And left us running next to it In the opposite direction And running Parallel We could almost Catch up But then We fell back Again And Were Almost Moving Back Wards...................................It Took....................................Us An..................................Entire Train?s...........................Length To......................................Go ........................................Just ........................................Two ....................................Blocks ......................With heavy wind .................Resistance pressing .........Against our faces, throats ......And arms until it sped, sped Up and left us to move at our own speed again Time travel is dangerous for the inexperienced But we, we tame minutes with meticulous Methods developed in the most secret of ways Running next to the trains and raising our voices, ?Let not this slipping second buck me from my well-earned seat, This saddle lashed across the back of concepts abstract, Atop a minute molded of pure activity!? [Eastern Optimism] At Gibson?s end came small surrenders In the form of a chain-link fence And a gate with locks clicked tightly closed In an intimidating click-clack dance ?This gate! This gate!? I used to cry When it towered high above my head, ?Some day I swear I?ll be strong enough To rip it right off of its stand!? And now just a well-placed shoulder nudge Could rob it of its vertical might But if I tore it down now, If I let us all out, I?d be dealing us a terrible slight Because, unburdened, the ones here now What could they hope to do? With no gate to smash, No cage to shake, They?d have no goal of breaking through No, for now, this bastard stands With his wind-rattled icy glare For I know now What I couldn?t have guessed, That it holds not the ones who leave it there So grow with a rust-lusty sense of sickness At the Gate that holds us in And when you?re strong enough to knock it down You?ll join in knowing how weak it is. -------------- -EC

I love it! -EC

Nope, I can't play or read music. I guess you could put it to Ryan Harvey's "Talkin' Talkin' Blues" tune, though- "If you're tired of corporate oppression, Or tired of fancy chord progressions, Just write a talkin' song... 'Cause talkin' songs are easy, friends, It's G, C, D, then G again, With those three, you can't go wrong..."

Welcome back, Codey.

Thanks, guys!

Yeah, I'm all for artistic license, but if you're going to call it non-fiction, you can't make stuff up. Call it "based on a true story" or "semi-autobiographical" or something - that's why those phrases were invented.

Thanks, everybody! :D Haha. I like it, but he looks a bit cheerful to burrow into your abdomen. I'll admit, I pictured the Weasel looking a bit more like this: But if I do it now, all the guys'll make that whip-cracking gesture... But I guess, since you said the magic word ("dammit"?), I'll get to work. -EC

Hold Fast to the Grass, Child; the Earth Always Spins (June '04) With three days gained and a new pair of shoes Started moving for a reason to find a reason to move To find a place, a thing, a person, job, jail, self-respect With a map of sympathetic squats and songs to speed the steps Thought I?d leave no trail to follow, let no one find my clues As I crossed the country whistling songs and writing ramblin? blues Met a man stopped on I-seven-five, his tires had run flat Said his name was not important and nor was mine, at that Said ?It?s plain dangerous to just be walking around, We need aluminum armor, we need tires on the ground, We need cylinders, brakes and fossil fuels.? A man stopped on I-seven-five taught me the ramblin? blues Went to sleep when it turned dark, lay hidden in the dirt Woke up before the sun arose, a spider on my shirt. I said ?Excuse me, sir, could you move your legs?? He said ?I stayed too long here, anyway. But thanks for not just slapping me off, like most people do to you When you?re an arachnid on the road, spinning out the ramblin? blues.? Found a freight train headed out so I shrugged and climbed inside Found out I wasn?t first young man to try to hitch this ride Found a dozen more all sitting around talking Making plans, taking breaks from walking One held a switchblade, one a gun, so I guess I had to choose Do I try to fight, try to run, or do I tell ?em my ramblin? blues? As things turned out, they were ramblin?, too And always glad to add another man to their crew They were cruisin? around, singing ?We Shall Not Be Moved? Because when it came to protest, it was a simple tune And the suits with the guns didn?t seem to mind, and they seemed to tip well, too Dropping quarters into hats and shaking their heads at their rendition of the ramblin? blues. Took my leave to head on out, feet kicking on the road again When I met a serpent on the sidewalk with a lisp a shifty grin He said, ?Don?t tense up, kid, I?m not looking to fight.? And as I lowered my guard, he took a bite So as he crept away I felt a sting creeping from my shoes The venom burning in my legs to end my ramblin? blues. Well, I was numb from the hips on down, It was looking like I wouldn?t get back to town So I stepped out to the road and raised my thumb up to the sky. And who should stop but the man I?d met stranded on I-seven-five. He said ?What?d I tell you, son, you?re a fool. Now hop in back and close your eyes try to dream up some ramblin? blues.? The Nurse said that logically I should?ve been dead That I was lucky that the venom didn?t reach my head And asked me where I wanted to go. I shook my head and raised my hands, in a gesture said ?I don?t know.? ?How about some place,? She said, ?where the snakes can?t get to you?? And that sounded nice, to get back home and close my ramblin? blues. When I got home and told the family about All the people I?d met, all the things I?d found out, Grandma looked around and said ?What?d I say? I knew the kid?d find out on his own some day, That the Earth spins, child, and the soil is loose So hold fast to the grass with both of your hands or you?ll feel those ramblin? blues.?

An English professor was reading "The Canterbury Tales" to his class and noticed that a student had fallen asleep. Annoyed, he sent the book spinning through the hair and bouncing off the student's head. Startled awake, the student asked what had hit him. "That," the professor replied, "was a flying Chaucer."

Great job, Graeme (and editor/s)! Like WBMS said, I wasn't expecting an ending just yet, but you nailed it. And congrats again for writing a story that doesn't follow the typical structure. Laughing at danger and breaking all the rules and such. That means you get to strut around tossing your head back in defiance. :glasses2: -EC

New chapter! Yeah! Great stuff, Ube - keep it up!

And those of us of a different age feel as though we had been. FreeThinker stories always make me want to raid my parents' Phil Ochs and Left Banke collections. Anomalies is great so far. It makes me wish I was better at writing feedback.

A man sees an advertisement for adult education classes at the local community college. It sounds like a good opportunity, so he decides to sign up for a class. Seeking advice on what class he should register for, he asks the college counselor. The counselor suggests starting out with a basic logic course, as it would set a good foundation for critical thinking. "What's logic?" He asks. "Well, it's using what you know to assess and make sense of certain situations." "I'm not sure I understand." "Let me give you an example. Do you own a weed-whacker?" "Yes." "Well, using logic, I could reasonably assume that since you own a weed-whacker, you have a lawn." "I do." "And since you have a lawn, it wouldn't be unreasonable for me to assume that you have a house." "That's right." "Since you're a home-owner, I could guess, reasonably, that you are married." "Hey, I am!" "And since you're married, I can logically assume that you are heterosexual." "That's right." "So, you see, simply by your telling me that you own a weed-whacker, I used logic to deduce your sexuality." "You know, that's pretty cool. I think I will take that logic class." Later that day, his friend asks him what class he signed up for. "Logic," he says. "What's that?" "Let me give you an example. Do you own a weed-whacker?" "No." "What!? You never told me you were gay!"

To Coats I?ve Lost, Jobs I?ve Quit, Trains I?ve Missed, and Songs I Don?t Remember How to Play Left it piled on a bus seat with the zipper stuck halfway. It was blue and yellow nylon from a charity box Outgrown five years ago but never thrown away Until now, that snagged zipper the last straw More straightjacket than windbreaker And the lining was worn out, scratchy and coarse. Shimmied free with groans and swears And left five years of semi-warmth behind. Cold-shouldered liberation, but a long walk home in the snow. Handed Boss-Lady my rented gear and said ?This isn?t going to work,? when I meant to say ?You?re the worst human being I?ve ever met.? The man who trained me did bad Nicholson impressions And told me on the first day, ?Most jobs ain?t as bad as this one. You should probably quit and find one that?s decent.? It was two days before I took his advice And I heard that he quit a week after that. I?ve never really hopped a train Never traveled by rail, thumb, or ship Always scared to take the risks But I drive a car on streets packed with ice and others And sometimes I?ll see a gap in the guardrail Where someone else broke though and fell fifty feet And think ?If only he would have hopped a train instead.? Sometimes I?ll walk to work because I care about the Earth But that?s just the lie I tell myself when I can?t afford gas. I can?t play any musical instruments any more. Schools tried to teach me violin and recorder Friends tried to teach me drums and guitar And I used to know how to sing and play ?Mary Had a Little Lamb? little lamb little lamb But I can?t remember a single note. Can?t read sheet music or tablatures And my singing voice is like the strangled howls Of a cat in heat falling into a pile of thumbtacks.

Thanks, everybody! :D I've got finals next week, so the next chapter won't be done until some time after that. But not too long after that.

Great story, TR. Loved all the chemical definitions, and the part about how there's "nobody lazier than a bunch of genius kids" was perfect. Man, I should have taken honors instead of basic chemistry. We never had any supply-closet makeout sessions. But, since I got stuck at the burnout table (people seem to always think I'm high on something... :roll:), I did end up listening to endless "Sex v. Robitussin Trip" debates. I forget which side won.

I'll second the Little Brown Handbook. I've got the 5th edition. Currently the only reference book with a seat of honor next to my PC, and the only required text that I didn't sell back to the school. I pull this sucker out for every paper I write, and it hasn't failed me yet.

Part two was even better than the first. The whole scene with James and the cereal...classic.

Yesterday was supposed to be one of those few days when I don?t have to go to work or school. In preparation, I spent the previous night doing what anyone would do ? staying out until four in the morning, losing and then subsequently winning back my shirt in high-stakes games of Super Mario Brothers. Alright, so maybe it wasn?t what anyone would do, but it seemed smart at the time. Cut to about six this morning. I get a call from work, saying ?Hey, we know you?ve never gotten any training in it, but we need you to be a trucking dispatcher for the rest of the day.? Now, my usual job has nothing to do with trucking and less to do with dispatching, but I was stuck ? I was the only one available to take over. They hand me a two radios, a phone, an intercom, and a sheet of instructions written in a bunch of trucking jargon that I still haven?t deciphered. My ?training? lasted about five minutes, and consisted of someone who doesn?t work there attempting to tell me what the people who do work there want me to do. He didn?t do a very good job of it. The main thing, though, was that I had to speak in code. ?Code? What code?? I ask. ?I don't know. Figure it out, college boy.? He replies. Luckilly, there were some (slightly out-dated) code books hidden in a drawer under a few old copies of Guns & Ammo, Feild & Stream, and such. So I try to get going, not really knowing what the hell is going on. Now I?m talking into two different radios, using two separate, but similar code languages. Like, ?10-7? in one radio means ?I?m going off duty?, while ?10-7? in the other radio means ?You?re talking too loud, please lower your voice?, so if I get them mixed up, I could completely screw things over. Then I overhear this exchange on the radio: Girl: Who the hell?s on dispatch? Guy: ?I dunno, some new young guy.? Girl: ?Well, he?s sending trucks to the wrong side of the state.? Guy: ?Oh, for god?s sake?? Other Girl: ?Pick it up, guys ? we can?t slow down just because the new guy doesn?t know what he?s doing.? Me: ?Uh?10-4?? So?long story short, if anyone ordered something through UPS, FedEx, Wal-Mart?or, well, pretty much any of the big trucking companies in Ohio and it?s getting in late, it?s probably my fault. Sorry, guys.