For those of you wondering, the book is coming along nicely and most of the writing is just about done! As soon as I send it off to the publisher, I'll be updating my web site with all the pictures and donation info of the people who helped out this summer. Pictured here, by the way, is the bobblehead Goofy that had to substitute for the "Maine state flag" chosen by Brian and Kim Fitzgerald. He's gazing out onto the Crestone formation from the lofty summit of Eureka Peak! If you're wondering what happened to the Maine state flag: it was perched proudly on my tent the night I went to climb Mount Hesperus and sadly blew into the unknown during a windy night.
In other news, send all your good vibes to Boston this week! My friend Candace (a native Maine-iac!) is recovering from a stem-cell transplant to replace her bone marrow. Candace and her boyfriend Scott are my pals from the Gamefaqs messageboards, proving that not every one you meet online is crazy! Here's wishing her a speedy recovery!
Oh, and yeah check this out: Happy Halloween! I was thinking back in 2002, I actually hiked local favorite Bear Peak on Halloween with "Wandering" Stan. It snowed like crazy and we didn't get back until after dark, but it was a good day nonetheless. Stan is a great, if very mobile, guy! I haven't caught up with him in a while, but he's got a good blog to scope out here.
As for this year, I'll be home writing with my Halloween kitty Xanadu (she has perfect autumn colors). Throw an egg at someone for me!
Monday, October 30, 2006
So did everyone have a good national video game day? It's amazing to think this awesome holiday is in its 16th year! As you all know, National Video Game Day commemorates my 1990 feat of defeating both Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and The Adventures of Bayou Billy for the first time (and obviously, both on the original NES). Technically, the holiday was celebrated YESTERDAY, October 29th--but if you missed it, by all means, enjoy some games today.
Thursday, October 26, 2006
You know what assignment must suck for TV cameramen? Getting those shots of fat people walking around, usually cutting off their heads to protect their girthy innocence. You've seen it all a hundred times: a serious sounding newscaster voices over shots of hefty citizens dressed in garish clothing, waddling down the sidewalk, chubby elbows swinging by their expanding sides. The report is always something incredibly obvious like: "Local scientists finds that people who eat 4-10 sticks of salted butter per day have a higher risk of getting stuck in revolving doors. For his next study, this same scientist will actually hurl bags of grant money directly into a lit furnace."
There is no doubt Americans have been chunkified, but the fact is we aren't even in the top 5 fattest countries on Earth. Germany, France, England, Japan, and Mexico all have higher obesity rates according to a recent study (that probably neglected to visit New Orleans, Houston, or Wisconsin). Nonetheless, do we really need shots of gigantic butts to visualize the fact we're a bunch of chubby chumps? Who knows, the enormous rump you see may belong to a guy heading to his weight loss class (heck, at least he's walking around, right?) It's a staple of the slow news day, and yet it's not really anything new. If you eat a lot and don't exercise, you get fat. I knew this when I was about 3 years old. Stop blaming McDonald's unless Ronald McDonald has personally rendered you unconscious and injected an IV of fry-oil directly into your blood stream.
Next time the news is out of good material, they should just run 5 minutes of pictures of puppies and kittens. Now who wouldn't THAT put into a good mood, huh? And truth be said, I'd rather see a tubby tabby than a pudgy pedestrian.
There is no doubt Americans have been chunkified, but the fact is we aren't even in the top 5 fattest countries on Earth. Germany, France, England, Japan, and Mexico all have higher obesity rates according to a recent study (that probably neglected to visit New Orleans, Houston, or Wisconsin). Nonetheless, do we really need shots of gigantic butts to visualize the fact we're a bunch of chubby chumps? Who knows, the enormous rump you see may belong to a guy heading to his weight loss class (heck, at least he's walking around, right?) It's a staple of the slow news day, and yet it's not really anything new. If you eat a lot and don't exercise, you get fat. I knew this when I was about 3 years old. Stop blaming McDonald's unless Ronald McDonald has personally rendered you unconscious and injected an IV of fry-oil directly into your blood stream.
Next time the news is out of good material, they should just run 5 minutes of pictures of puppies and kittens. Now who wouldn't THAT put into a good mood, huh? And truth be said, I'd rather see a tubby tabby than a pudgy pedestrian.
Wednesday, October 25, 2006
Prior to leaving for Mexico, I had written sections for my book on altitude adjustments and how the body corresponds to abrupt changes. My research had shown that the body, once adjusted, has a day where it tends to be slow, tired, and a bit off. This is actually normal, it's sort of like "on the seventh day, he rested"--once you've changed all the levels of your body to function normally, you need a short period to recover.
I've never felt anything obvious since coming back earlier this week; I've ran some and TRIED to go for a bike ride (though a chronically flat tire prevented much of that). Last night however, I felt like I had spent the day running up and down mountains. I hit the sack around 10:30 pm and didn't stir until 8:30 this morning! Even Xanadu, my cat, hadn't moved from her spot next to my pillow. I'm guessing this 10 hour trip to dreamland was a result from re-acclimating to 5,400 ft. in Boulder. It's a shame though, I don't remember a single dream from it all!
My recent trip to Puerto Vallarta was a beauty! I felt like the King of Mexico or at least the Prince of Chihuahua. The great news is that I got the contract to do their web copywriting and even added in some extra print writing! The main hotel I stayed at was the stunning Grand Velas, a 5-Diamond, all-inclusive, you-or-I couldn't afford it unless we robbed several banks type of a place. For example, the room I stayed at my last night was $4500.00 per night, which if we figure it out, is roughly 3 times the cost of my car (and then some). It's pretty sweet living like the "other half" for a few days, though unlike the fat cats, I made a point to finish my all my plankton.
I also got to play 9 holes of golf while I was out there. I played pretty bad, even for me--but it wasn't ALL my fault! It was a very narrow course (excuse #1) and my normal habit of wading into water hazards to retrieve errant balls was negated by the fact the small ponds had crocodiles living in them (making them actual hazards). Thus, I couldn't retrieve my "lucky golf ball" (excuse #2). In fact, I went through about 8 "lucky" golf balls. Also, I was hitting with rental clubs (excuse #3) which is really a bad excuse because I don't even OWN any golf clubs. The air was too thick (excuse #4) and I wasn't wearing golf shoes (excuse #5). The sun was too bright (excuse #6). There were too many clouds (excuse #7).
When the girl at front desk asked me what my handicap was, my reply was "I'm really bad at golf", which I thought was funny. She remained stone faced, not even cracking a forced smile. Oh well, maybe the humor was lost in translation.
Back in Colorado, back to the book, and there's snow here! It's nice and cool--which is what I need, as I feel my body is still giving off solar radiation from my punishingly hot drives from this summer.
I've never felt anything obvious since coming back earlier this week; I've ran some and TRIED to go for a bike ride (though a chronically flat tire prevented much of that). Last night however, I felt like I had spent the day running up and down mountains. I hit the sack around 10:30 pm and didn't stir until 8:30 this morning! Even Xanadu, my cat, hadn't moved from her spot next to my pillow. I'm guessing this 10 hour trip to dreamland was a result from re-acclimating to 5,400 ft. in Boulder. It's a shame though, I don't remember a single dream from it all!
Monday, October 23, 2006
My recent trip to Puerto Vallarta was a beauty! I felt like the King of Mexico or at least the Prince of Chihuahua. The great news is that I got the contract to do their web copywriting and even added in some extra print writing! The main hotel I stayed at was the stunning Grand Velas, a 5-Diamond, all-inclusive, you-or-I couldn't afford it unless we robbed several banks type of a place. For example, the room I stayed at my last night was $4500.00 per night, which if we figure it out, is roughly 3 times the cost of my car (and then some). It's pretty sweet living like the "other half" for a few days, though unlike the fat cats, I made a point to finish my all my plankton.
I also got to play 9 holes of golf while I was out there. I played pretty bad, even for me--but it wasn't ALL my fault! It was a very narrow course (excuse #1) and my normal habit of wading into water hazards to retrieve errant balls was negated by the fact the small ponds had crocodiles living in them (making them actual hazards). Thus, I couldn't retrieve my "lucky golf ball" (excuse #2). In fact, I went through about 8 "lucky" golf balls. Also, I was hitting with rental clubs (excuse #3) which is really a bad excuse because I don't even OWN any golf clubs. The air was too thick (excuse #4) and I wasn't wearing golf shoes (excuse #5). The sun was too bright (excuse #6). There were too many clouds (excuse #7).
When the girl at front desk asked me what my handicap was, my reply was "I'm really bad at golf", which I thought was funny. She remained stone faced, not even cracking a forced smile. Oh well, maybe the humor was lost in translation.
Back in Colorado, back to the book, and there's snow here! It's nice and cool--which is what I need, as I feel my body is still giving off solar radiation from my punishingly hot drives from this summer.
Tuesday, October 17, 2006
Quickie here-- Im free from the yoke of Texas and in the land of criminal masterminds everywhere, beautiful Mexico! It's quite nice here and there's monkeys on my balcony. I've slept about 1.5 hours in the last two days. Must...not...sleep at important meetings.... ^_^
Monday, October 16, 2006
SOS! HOUSTON...HELD HOSTAGE BY GW BUSHS AIPORT EMPIRE...STUCK EATING OLD PRETZELS. SEND AMPLES DOSES OF NEW ENGLAD CHARM ASAP!
Friday, October 13, 2006
Hola amigos! You'll never guess where Weird Al and I are going next week! Mexico (ai, ai, ai!?) I secured a contract with two (possibly three) luxury hotels in Puerto Vallarta to compose and edit their online copy. I'll be traveling by airplane, Weird Al will traveling in my Mp3 player.
As was often the case when I worked at Hooked, I go from pauper to prince for a few days. My "one meal a day of Ramen or other less-than-4 dollars food item" shall be replaced with the finest gourmet food (not to mention these are all-inclusive resorts, so I eat and get as fat as I can)! Instead of threatening calls from bill collectors, I'll be kindly treated to the finest amenities. No longer will I share a can of Fancy feast with Xanadu; I'll feast upon actual fancy foods.
Wilderness Press has come through for me too, allowing me to take this trip and extending my book deadline to do so! Hopefully, I won't have too many commitments down there so I can bring the ol' lappy and get some book stuff done in the sun.
Other news: I think if the 60's (70's?) rock instrumental "Classical Gas" had a batter name, people would still know of it in modern times. It sounds like a symptom of eating old-world beans. I've heard two versions: the more cheesy, orchestra-backed Hawaii 5-O simulacrum and a superior solo acoustic guitar version. I was inspired to listen to it after hearing Servo yell it at some guitar playing dope on Mystery Science Theater 3000 (PLAY CLASSICAL GAS!)
As was often the case when I worked at Hooked, I go from pauper to prince for a few days. My "one meal a day of Ramen or other less-than-4 dollars food item" shall be replaced with the finest gourmet food (not to mention these are all-inclusive resorts, so I eat and get as fat as I can)! Instead of threatening calls from bill collectors, I'll be kindly treated to the finest amenities. No longer will I share a can of Fancy feast with Xanadu; I'll feast upon actual fancy foods.
Wilderness Press has come through for me too, allowing me to take this trip and extending my book deadline to do so! Hopefully, I won't have too many commitments down there so I can bring the ol' lappy and get some book stuff done in the sun.
Other news: I think if the 60's (70's?) rock instrumental "Classical Gas" had a batter name, people would still know of it in modern times. It sounds like a symptom of eating old-world beans. I've heard two versions: the more cheesy, orchestra-backed Hawaii 5-O simulacrum and a superior solo acoustic guitar version. I was inspired to listen to it after hearing Servo yell it at some guitar playing dope on Mystery Science Theater 3000 (PLAY CLASSICAL GAS!)
Wednesday, October 11, 2006
Actual text, copied and pasted from my book (yes, it's purposely rambly):
"I felt like I'd just gone 10 rounds with Mike Tyson in a room lit by 80,000 watt light bulbs after eating a gallon of moldy mayonnaise"
I'll admit it, I just wanted to mention Mike Tyson in my book! Can you guess the ailment? :)
"I felt like I'd just gone 10 rounds with Mike Tyson in a room lit by 80,000 watt light bulbs after eating a gallon of moldy mayonnaise"
I'll admit it, I just wanted to mention Mike Tyson in my book! Can you guess the ailment? :)
Monday, October 09, 2006
Movies too! It seems like whenever a real writer wants to make a character who seemingly has the free time to engage in adventures/romances/etc., they give their fictional creation the ambiguous job of "writer". Now granted, whoever has created the script is in fact a writer; perhaps they wanted to delve into a profession they know. In theory, it's a romantic profession. In reality, most writers will create copy about anything to get by. It may be hard to grasp the next Hemmingway scripting the dialogue bewteen a dog and a living, animated bag of Puppy chow, but that's how it goes.
I also like how TV portrays writers as wise-beyond-their years deep thinkers, pounding out their words on old ink-and-ribbon typewriters by the window of some cedar scented cabin in the woods. Maybe. I remember a great TV special from 2004 where they showed Stephen King at work. He was hunched over, squinting at what looked like a 14' inch Mac monitor, using the two-index-finger styling of typing. Not terribly aesthetic, but real.
As for me, I have a cat on my lap, soda cans and empty Gatorade bottles all over the place, and the tunes from Chrono Cross playing. Who knows, maybe once this book sells I'll defect from my highly editable and functional PC to an old Smith and Corona word processor, and eventually get so successful I'll buy one of those 60 lb. typewriters from the 40's. All computers and no ink makes Jimmy a dull boy, eh?
I'm writing the chapters on animals today! I was reminded of one of the most impressive sights I've ever seen in my life: the Arctic Musk Ox. Despite the rather negative name, these tough cousins of bison are impressive in person. They have existed since the time of the wooly mammoth and nearly faced extinction in the early 1900's before hunting regulations were implented to protect assorted populations. The herd I saw was on Devon Island, the largest uninhabited (by man) island on planet earth. They are huge, powerful animals that are incredibly shy. The reason for their timidness is the fact almost anything bigger than an Arctic fox that encounters them mostly likely wants to eat them! Polar bears,wolves, humans, and even walrus will attack musk ox.
As for their eating habits, Musk ox dine on the extremely sparse willows and grasses growing on the rocky Arctic shoreline. When attacked, the biggest males will form a ring around females and calves, an effective defense tactic against animals but useless against the merciless guns of man. So let's hear it for the mighty musk ox, buffalo of the truth north and wooly pal of species long since extinct!
I also like how TV portrays writers as wise-beyond-their years deep thinkers, pounding out their words on old ink-and-ribbon typewriters by the window of some cedar scented cabin in the woods. Maybe. I remember a great TV special from 2004 where they showed Stephen King at work. He was hunched over, squinting at what looked like a 14' inch Mac monitor, using the two-index-finger styling of typing. Not terribly aesthetic, but real.
As for me, I have a cat on my lap, soda cans and empty Gatorade bottles all over the place, and the tunes from Chrono Cross playing. Who knows, maybe once this book sells I'll defect from my highly editable and functional PC to an old Smith and Corona word processor, and eventually get so successful I'll buy one of those 60 lb. typewriters from the 40's. All computers and no ink makes Jimmy a dull boy, eh?
Thursday, October 05, 2006
I'm writing the chapters on animals today! I was reminded of one of the most impressive sights I've ever seen in my life: the Arctic Musk Ox. Despite the rather negative name, these tough cousins of bison are impressive in person. They have existed since the time of the wooly mammoth and nearly faced extinction in the early 1900's before hunting regulations were implented to protect assorted populations. The herd I saw was on Devon Island, the largest uninhabited (by man) island on planet earth. They are huge, powerful animals that are incredibly shy. The reason for their timidness is the fact almost anything bigger than an Arctic fox that encounters them mostly likely wants to eat them! Polar bears,wolves, humans, and even walrus will attack musk ox. As for their eating habits, Musk ox dine on the extremely sparse willows and grasses growing on the rocky Arctic shoreline. When attacked, the biggest males will form a ring around females and calves, an effective defense tactic against animals but useless against the merciless guns of man. So let's hear it for the mighty musk ox, buffalo of the truth north and wooly pal of species long since extinct!
Wednesday, October 04, 2006
For the next few weeks all of my days are going to be similar: wrote all day, drank Mountain Dew, got out for a bit, wrote some more, etc. It's going to make for some very boring blog entries so I thought I'd change the subject a little.
Beyond the scope of the book, I've written a great deal about the experience of being on this "journey". I find it amazing so many people supported me and my dreams. I have alluded to this in a previous post when I was thinking about my Dad on Navajo Peak. Later in the summer, as I closed in on my 50th hike, I began to revisit these notions.
Corny as it sounds, I was thinking about the scene in Forest Gump (yeah, go ahead and laugh) where he gets letters he had written to Jenny back, unopened. I was also reminded of the poetry of World War I poet Wilfred Owen, who penned some of the most beautiful love poems in the English language to a girl who didn't give a damn whether he lived or died. Or the letters of a soldier in World War 2 scripted to his father, who refused to read them because of a trivial conflict between the two.
My experiences didn't directly correlate to any of these situations, but it got me thinking about how valuable reflection is on those solo adventures. Many of the people who truly believed in me did so quietly and I began to appreciate that more than ever in my life. As it is, trying to get by as a writer is a rather far-flung profession, especially given my aversion to the dry art of print journalism (though I have a great amount of respect for those who can do it well).
And I thought about all the people who have given up on me in my life. In sports, it's a known fact a chip on your shoulder can be a good thing. Such is the same in any pursuit; sometimes the people who don't believe in you and think you aren't worthy of being a great person can really drive you. Some of these quotes will illustrate what I mean.
Whenever someone underestimates your passion, be it for a task like mine, a strange hobby, or for another person, it really hits hard because the only way you can dispute it is by proving them wrong. I have plenty of rejection letters from editors to keep me humble whenever things seem a little too good.
So many people get convinced of their shortcomings as announced by others that they give up. This is what happened with me and baseball: I was good and getting better, but coaches said I was too small to compete at higher levels--and like a fool I believed them. I don't know where I would have gotten with it, but it would have been fun to at least give it a go. Instead, I stopped before I even got started.
This book was a turning point for me. I had some pretty informed people telling me it was a bad idea, I should do other things with my time. And yes, this book is a huge risk in so many ways. With each page I type up, I'm that much closer to the goal and I'm amazed so many of my supporters are not in the least bit surprised when I tell them I'm almost done. Their confidence was more than just well-wishing--they knew I could do it and on nights like this, it is a huge boost.
The moral of the story is that people WILL give up on you in your life; they'll think you are ill-equipped to succeed and not good enough to meet their standards. They'll turn you away, talk you out of your own self-knowledge and confidence, tell you what they think is really best for you. I always told writers who worked for me while I was an editor, "You have to believe in your own talents, even when no one else does. Even if you aren't all the way there, you'll get better if you want to -- if your passion carries you. You'll have been there alone before all the good things that are to come have bloomed, and you'll have always known they would."
As these naysayers cross your life, remember you can learn from them. It's always a safe bet to predict failure (like I do with the Red Sox)--if they lose, you can say you saw it coming, if they win, you'll be pleasantly surprised. That's easier than sticking with the underdog all the way and investing your emotion in something you can't control. So, for those of you who have supported this book, I thank you once again for taking the risk and putting your trust that I would make it happen. For those who have given up on me or thought it wouldn't happen: I'm sure you too will be pleasantly surprised, it's going to be a good book. Don't expect to see your name in the thank you section of my book.
So to summarize: you guys, my readers--rule! You're a refreshing counterpart to the negative nellies of the world. And if anyone cares, earlier this week I signed up to play adult baseball in Denver. I may not be great, but at least I'll know...
Beyond the scope of the book, I've written a great deal about the experience of being on this "journey". I find it amazing so many people supported me and my dreams. I have alluded to this in a previous post when I was thinking about my Dad on Navajo Peak. Later in the summer, as I closed in on my 50th hike, I began to revisit these notions.
Corny as it sounds, I was thinking about the scene in Forest Gump (yeah, go ahead and laugh) where he gets letters he had written to Jenny back, unopened. I was also reminded of the poetry of World War I poet Wilfred Owen, who penned some of the most beautiful love poems in the English language to a girl who didn't give a damn whether he lived or died. Or the letters of a soldier in World War 2 scripted to his father, who refused to read them because of a trivial conflict between the two.
My experiences didn't directly correlate to any of these situations, but it got me thinking about how valuable reflection is on those solo adventures. Many of the people who truly believed in me did so quietly and I began to appreciate that more than ever in my life. As it is, trying to get by as a writer is a rather far-flung profession, especially given my aversion to the dry art of print journalism (though I have a great amount of respect for those who can do it well).
And I thought about all the people who have given up on me in my life. In sports, it's a known fact a chip on your shoulder can be a good thing. Such is the same in any pursuit; sometimes the people who don't believe in you and think you aren't worthy of being a great person can really drive you. Some of these quotes will illustrate what I mean.
Whenever someone underestimates your passion, be it for a task like mine, a strange hobby, or for another person, it really hits hard because the only way you can dispute it is by proving them wrong. I have plenty of rejection letters from editors to keep me humble whenever things seem a little too good.
So many people get convinced of their shortcomings as announced by others that they give up. This is what happened with me and baseball: I was good and getting better, but coaches said I was too small to compete at higher levels--and like a fool I believed them. I don't know where I would have gotten with it, but it would have been fun to at least give it a go. Instead, I stopped before I even got started.
This book was a turning point for me. I had some pretty informed people telling me it was a bad idea, I should do other things with my time. And yes, this book is a huge risk in so many ways. With each page I type up, I'm that much closer to the goal and I'm amazed so many of my supporters are not in the least bit surprised when I tell them I'm almost done. Their confidence was more than just well-wishing--they knew I could do it and on nights like this, it is a huge boost.
The moral of the story is that people WILL give up on you in your life; they'll think you are ill-equipped to succeed and not good enough to meet their standards. They'll turn you away, talk you out of your own self-knowledge and confidence, tell you what they think is really best for you. I always told writers who worked for me while I was an editor, "You have to believe in your own talents, even when no one else does. Even if you aren't all the way there, you'll get better if you want to -- if your passion carries you. You'll have been there alone before all the good things that are to come have bloomed, and you'll have always known they would."
As these naysayers cross your life, remember you can learn from them. It's always a safe bet to predict failure (like I do with the Red Sox)--if they lose, you can say you saw it coming, if they win, you'll be pleasantly surprised. That's easier than sticking with the underdog all the way and investing your emotion in something you can't control. So, for those of you who have supported this book, I thank you once again for taking the risk and putting your trust that I would make it happen. For those who have given up on me or thought it wouldn't happen: I'm sure you too will be pleasantly surprised, it's going to be a good book. Don't expect to see your name in the thank you section of my book.
So to summarize: you guys, my readers--rule! You're a refreshing counterpart to the negative nellies of the world. And if anyone cares, earlier this week I signed up to play adult baseball in Denver. I may not be great, but at least I'll know...
Man, I've been writing like a madman here. 10-12 hour days are the norm. I try to start off each day with a rousing song, such as this one here. Anyone from New England is going to know this song, even if they don't "know" it. First one to post the correct answer of this song's alternate title wins a cookie. It's a song that's near and dear to my heart.
I wish I had a pile of Devil Dogs and a keg of Mountain Dew to keep me awake. Of course, that will quickly negate all the fitness I earned this summer hiking but man, I need something to keep me up. Hey, maybe this glass of warm milk will do the trick....ZZZZzzzzzzzz < /Wiggum >
I wish I had a pile of Devil Dogs and a keg of Mountain Dew to keep me awake. Of course, that will quickly negate all the fitness I earned this summer hiking but man, I need something to keep me up. Hey, maybe this glass of warm milk will do the trick....ZZZZzzzzzzzz < /Wiggum >
