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DARK WINDOWS #4 - Oct. 1, 2007 ===== ===== ===> INTRO This month was almost totally disrupted by a family mental health crisis. But rather than dwell on the lousy/ugly parts, how about this for a lousy/funny weekend: Ordered to testify in court in Phoenix on Monday (today), so ... 6-1/2 hour drive, and I got a ticket for not having a front license plate (which was never a problem before) just 4 miles from the state line. Got whatever sleep I could, not much. Got to the mental hospital, and while waiting to be called someone came in from outside and said, "Whoever has the blue Saturn has a flat tire." My reaction, "The way things are going, that would have to be me." I went through some emotional hell, came out and had to put on the spare tire (while mental patients came and went). Note that my "look good in court" clothes hadn't been worn in 8 or 10 years, and really didn't fit, but I got the spare on and went back to my hotel to ask for a tire place. At the time, someone was revving their engine right outside the door and cussing and yelling, apparently because they had been told it was a non-smoking hotel and they couldn't deal with it. When the dickhead squealed the tires and drove off (thus proving his dickhead status and nothing else), the nice frazzled hotel lady told me about a Discount Tire place just up the road "in that construction area, can't miss it." True, you couldn't miss the construction site -- it turned out to be a huge project ripping up the 4 middle lanes of Main Street (Mesa, AZ) to put in a light rail system. Over a mile of arrows and warnings and sudden turns to get to businesses that would probably be ruined anyway. At first it didn't look like there was any way to get to the tire shop, then there was. I almost locked the keys in the car when I showed the guy the trick to starting the car (a silly security widget), had to slam the door on my hand at the last moment when I saw he'd left the keys in the ignition. While waiting, I walked over to Subway and bought a sandwich I couldn't eat because my stomach was upset and I had 400 miles to drive ... Someone's floppy-eared dog squirmed out the half-opened window of their truck and ran around all excited. I got a hold of it and kept it entertained for a few minute while the owners were located. Instead of saying thanks, they just yelled at me, threw the dog in the truck and drove off. As I told my brother when I got home: the way it was going I was sure I'd get trampled by llamas next, so I didn't make any extra stops. I changed out of my too-tight court pants at a rest area, filled up on cheap Arizona gas (it's 35 cents more in CA due to extra taxes) and somewhere along the line slammed the car door on my other hand for no reason at all. Approaching Quartzite, there was finally a break in the clouds, and huge sunbeams shone down on the town like some biblical scene, except that it was the same old place in the middle of nowhere. Of course I stopped at Chiriaco Summit, the big secret hangout on the I-10, and got to tell some of the local history to some first time visitors. I got some photos of a litter of kittens camped out right under a sign saying "Free Kittens to a Good Home." No matter how bad the day has been, or how dumb humans are, one can always trust animals to make it okay and simple again. That's why this issue is a half an hour overdue. It had been sitting on my hard drive since Sep 12, just waiting for an intro, and I found myself living the perfect intro today. (For people who hate loose ends ... back to that sandwich: by the time I got home 6 hours later it was gone and I vaguely recall finishing it somewhere around Indio during the Billy Joel part of the trip, hoping that no CHP choppers were following me with high-tech food detectors, praying all the salami-sniffing K-9 units were busy on other calls.) ===> POEM A Deep Silence by s.c.virtes --- The silence of eons -- water liles sway to a powerless current, reeds bend to a breathless breeze, stones stand carved with deep runes in some forgotten tongue, a message gone forever writhing in flashes of lightning; the warm air trembles with unspoken thunder; the land is waiting for the impossible -- for someone to unlock the secret. :: written 1/8/2000, unpublished ===> ODD CLIPS: (clips from old "factual" sources) "On every hand the big brewing houses are throwing off fumes from the vats of malted liquors, and, while these are imperceptible to the resident, more than a thousand authentic instances are said to have been recorded of persons to whom the air has proved to posess properties that both cheer and inebriate." [1] "A schoolboy in Jewel City, Kan., was assigned to prepare an essay on the subject of "Ducks," and this is what he wrote: 'The duck us a low, heavyset girl, composed mostly of meat and feathers. He is a mighty poor singer, having a hoarse voice caused by getting too many frogs in his neck. He likes the water and carries a toy balloon in his stomach to keep him from sinking. The duck has only two legs and they are set so far back on his running gears that she came purty near missing his body. some ducks when they get big have curls on their tails and are called drakes. Drakes don't have to set or hatch, but just loaf, go swimming and eat. If I was a duck I'd rather be a drake every time." [2] "It may be a pleasant dream to attempt to conceive of the beauties of the spirit-world; but the time can be spent more profitably in a study of the spirit itself, and it is not necessary that the subject for study should be in the spirit-world." [3] --- 1. "Tainted Atmospheres", Carstairs Journal (Alberta), 5 Jan 1906 2. "School Essay on Ducks": Box Elder News, Utah, 2/25/1904 - p6 3. "An unsolved mystery" (story) by H.P.Blavatsky ===> STORY Jupiter Song by Scott Virtes --- (For Jared Coffin) Scene: father trying to answer nagging questions from son. Father is having some trouble getting his facts straight ... "Unbeknownst to most people, Jupiter isn't that far away..." "How far is it?" "It's thousands and thousands of miles away." "That's not so bad." "But that's straight up. So you need a spaceship to get there." "Damn." "In fact Jupiter is about the size of a house." "Really?" "Maybe not our house. The reason it's so bright is because it's all covered with snow." "Snow? Cool!" "Stars are also bright, but they're NOT covered with snow. Don't let this confuse you." "Sorry. I AM confused." "Stars are much farther away. In fact the Orion Galaxy is millions of miles away, and you can't get pizza there." "No pizza? Don't like it." "Stars are actually powered by large incandescent filaments, which are not very efficient -- so they give off lots of heat." "And, I know, the greater the ohmage, the more heat is generated due to the resistance of the wires ..." "The what?" "The ohmage, Dad. The ohmage." Blink. "But space is cold. Don't let this confuse you either." "How cold is it?" "It's colder than a freon colonic." "If you say so. So how do you get to Jupiter? You said this was gonna be a story about Jupiter." "The first thing you need to realize is that in space you don't just turn left or right, you can also turn up or down." "Nope. I just can't picture that." "Well then, you'll never get to Jupiter." "I didn't even wanna go to Jupiter." "Looks like you'll have to stay here, then." "But I'm not anywhere. I'm just floating." "Well you have to turn down to get to Earth. You're in some serious trouble." "Wouldn't be the first time." "So where are you right now?" "I'm ... HERE. Where are you?" "I'm just floating too." "I don't suppose you have a spaceship." "I'm just a holo with lots of bad sectors. You're the one with the real problem." "Oh great." "You are beginning to fade from long-range scanners. So, what's going through your mind right now?" "Float float float ..." (the voice fades out) The father holo turns to the broken-down kitchen bot as they all tumbled through the void in an expanding cloud of debris. "So, what's your favorite flavor of ice cream?" Zzzzt. === END :: written 7/7/94, published in EOTU Online, Aug 2001 Jared & I were playing guitars one day, and decided to improv some completely brain-dead outer space jabber. I later sat down to write about a guy who's drifting in space, hallucinating, and what he might be thinking - and I remembered this jabber from way back. End result ... creepy. ===> DARKVISION: (captured dreams) Penny for your Dreams ---- When I heard that it was Penny Festival night at the mysterious M----'s house, at first I thought it was silly. Who needed pennies anyway? I leave them on sidewalks hoping kids will find them and be happy for a moment. But some friends made me go. M---- was like a local Willy Wonka, who hardly ever let anyone onto his property. Turned out it was a big deal. The house was so big, there was a rack full of folded maps right in the entryway. It reminded me of the Metropolitan, with whole hallways devoted to random topics and themes, though in this case it was more a history of furnishings than culture. I strayed off the dotted yellow carpet at one point, into some rooms which supposedly had the world's finest collection of New England log chairs -- exactly the kind of thing that makes me change channels away from Antiques Roadshow. The main event was out back, on a hillside. Hundreds of people were up on the roof, throwing armloads of coins. They shimmered as they came down on the grass around us, and pelted us like a playful heavy rain. We laughed and scooped them up. They were bright copper coins, pennies from all over the world. Zambia, Zimbabwe, Uruguay -- you name it. We loaded our pockets and ran through the house, feeling some strange sense of world unity, that maybe the global economy wasn't headed for an epic catastrophe this year. But as we tried to find our way out of the maze, our pockets and heads grew lighter and lighter, and as we left the party, we found our own wallets empty and stupid grins on our faces. The massive black gates closed behind us, and all the cars had melted. dreamed Sep 2007 ===> MY NEWS: New sales: "The final word" (poem) sold to Illumen Now online: I have poems at The Sword Review and Helix SF. ===> POEM Another Revolution by s.c.virtes -- -- chasing my tail, entirely aware that I have no tail; but somehow in my centripetal frenzy, my mind has been sifted, settled and it doesn't seem to matter. Details, details! Tails ... my tale! it eludes me still, around we must go now, a mad dance of words, entirely aware. :: Written 2/87, published in senior citizen reporter v11#9 (9/87) ===> STORY BITES: (clips from old fictional sources) "When he was taken into the room, and looked into the crystal, he was utterly horror-stricken to see there a picture of himself, lying face down and senseless upon the side-walk of a street." [1] "I guess they got tired of waitin' there in that deep, dark grave for grandfather to come back." [2] "Sorry, Simon, but you know you aren't worth anything like sixty-four dollars." [3] --- 1. "An unsolved mystery" (story) by H.P.Blavatsky (yes, the same as one of the odd clips above) 2. "The Dark Beasts" (story) by Frank Belknap Long 3. "How Uncle Sam Lost Sixty-Four Dollars" (story) by Charles Fort ===> POEM all those toys by s.c.virtes --- forgotten playful things grow bitter in the attic restless like a trigger finger staring plastic eyes glare thru dusty moldy windows knotted fabric minds shatter at the touch of daylight :: written 10/18/96, published in Aoife's Kiss (9/02) ===> CREDITS About the author: Scott Virtes has had over 400 stories & poems published since 1986. Look for them in Analog, Space & Time, Ideomancer, Dreams & Nightmares, Cafe Irreal, Planet, and more ... My Home page: http://tales.scvs.com?inw=dkw Notice: Odd Clips and Story Bites all come from original sources in the public domain, or are brief clips in the spirit of fair use (a.k.a. free advertising for the source). All other sections of this newsletter are copyright (c)2007 Scott Virtes. All rights reserved. Please don't grab chunks of my work and post them all over the place. If you ask permission, you'll find that I'm pretty easygoing. ;-) ===== this issue: 2,102 words cumulative: 8,449 words f01-11,p213,p96-20,p01-02 |
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