6/14/10
56. Miserable Git Am I
We hopped on a bus that took us to Gatwick. We’re flying to Belgium today. I don’t know much about Belgium. Anything, really. Burbank says all he knows is that according to Douglas Adams, it’s the worst swearword in the universe. It’s kind of a silly fact, but it’s one more thing than I know. If you think about it, it does say a lot about the place. I’m not really sure where this Adams guy gets his facts from. I asked Burbank if he’s some sort of linguist or something and he nearly hurled a rock at me. Generally not a violent man, my mate Burbank. Quite peace-loving, in fact: loves babies, adopts endangered animals, gives to charity. I must have really pushed his buttons with my idiocy this time. He isn’t speaking to me at the moment, so I’m afraid I still don’t know who Adams is.
55. Missing Out
Three people spending the night in a car is rough. None of us could fall back to sleep after the tent incident and it was too dark and rainy to drive anywhere. Thankfully, Burbank was there to keep us sane by giving us his own versions of every nursery rhyme he’d been told as a kid. I’d never heard of some of them before. America’s children are missing out on all the good ones.What’s your favourite nursery rhyme?
6/13/10
54. Missing Piece
The cliffs are really tall here. I got a little woozy when we stood on the edge because there’s no barrier. We moved farther inland to set up camp for the night. Technically, I think it’s illegal to stay out there after sundown, but I said I’d take the blame if we got arrested.I’d bought a tent before we’d left the city. I took it upon myself to assemble it, which failed because there was a piece missing. Thank God for Burbank. He’s a MacGyver! He used a stick and some cellotape to prop the back end of the tent up.
We all slept in the tent, me between Lenore and Burbank. Contrary to the weather report, it rained that night. It rained so hard, I woke up in a puddle of water. The tent had collapsed and I thought I was drowning.
“Help! Help!” I screamed before Burbank started shaking me and I remembered where I was. But where was Lenore?
Burbank and I escaped the madness of the tent only to find we’d floated to the edge of the cliff! Five more minutes of sleeping and we’d have been over the edge. In the darkness, I stumbled toward the edge, but Burbank caught my wrist and pulled me to safety. He saved my life again! I must keep a running tally. Perhaps I can compensate him for his heroics at the end of the tour.
We watched the tent float off the cliff and into the ocean. “Lenore!” I started yelling above the rain, but I didn’t hear a response.
Burbank suggested we go back to the car to get a torch. That’s where we found Lenore asleep in the back seat, having moved hours ago due to my snoring.
53. Miscalculation
When we decided to go to the coast for an overnighter, Burbank insisted we take a bus, but I thought we’d have more freedom if we had our own car. So, I stopped by the rental place when Burbank and Lenore were still in the hotel. I was surprised they handed over a car to a foreigner so quickly. I thought it would be a bigger deal seeing as the road rules are different here and they drive on the correct side of the road. But they didn’t care.
Burbank was annoyed when I showed up at the hotel with a car. I tried to play it cool, but I think he realized I was a little shaky from the drive over. But it was too late to give it back now. I’d look like an idiot in front of my friends. I tried to cover by asking Burbank if he wanted to drive, but he told me he wouldn’t dream of depriving me of the experience of driving across the English countryside. And Lenore was just too smart to take me up on the offer. Damn.
We packed up the car and I drove out of Cardiff, Lenore in the passenger seat, Burbank in back. I hate city driving. I never knew who had the right-of-way and nearly plowed into a bin lorry…twice.
The country was a little better, but driving on the left does my head in. I was a nervous wreck by the time we got to the cliffs. I parked the car, but I couldn’t pry my hands off the steering wheel. I don’t think I’d blinked the entire trip. Burbank had to unwrap my fingers from the wheel and carry me out of the vehicle. When I was on the ground, I was stuck in a sitting position, my foot out like it was still on the brake. Lenore said I was probably in shock. True, I had hallucinated we’d all died in a crash.
Later, I called the rental place and told them of my huge miscalculation and asked would they please come and pick up their car.
Burbank was annoyed when I showed up at the hotel with a car. I tried to play it cool, but I think he realized I was a little shaky from the drive over. But it was too late to give it back now. I’d look like an idiot in front of my friends. I tried to cover by asking Burbank if he wanted to drive, but he told me he wouldn’t dream of depriving me of the experience of driving across the English countryside. And Lenore was just too smart to take me up on the offer. Damn.
We packed up the car and I drove out of Cardiff, Lenore in the passenger seat, Burbank in back. I hate city driving. I never knew who had the right-of-way and nearly plowed into a bin lorry…twice.
The country was a little better, but driving on the left does my head in. I was a nervous wreck by the time we got to the cliffs. I parked the car, but I couldn’t pry my hands off the steering wheel. I don’t think I’d blinked the entire trip. Burbank had to unwrap my fingers from the wheel and carry me out of the vehicle. When I was on the ground, I was stuck in a sitting position, my foot out like it was still on the brake. Lenore said I was probably in shock. True, I had hallucinated we’d all died in a crash.
Later, I called the rental place and told them of my huge miscalculation and asked would they please come and pick up their car.
52. Miscommunication
Burbank and I went to a fancy restaurant for lunch. Lenore didn’t want to come. I think she’s getting sick of being with me day in and day out. This trip isn’t helping our romance any.
After we finished eating, I asked the server for a box. I meant a to-go box, but I see now I should have been more clear, though I doubt it would have helped, because what she brought me was a dainty plate with half a dozen cubes of butter on it. Burbank thought it was hilarious, but I spent the next fifteen minutes pointing at things and drawing shapes with my fingers. We both speak English, but my accent wasn’t helping her any. Eventually, I did get an empty pizza box for my spaghetti, which I settled on because at least it’s a container.
Burbank told me he’s beginning to wonder what it’s like to be other people. I think he’s thinking of our server and how stressed out it must be to get dumb Americans in here asking for plates of butter and then changing their minds. Burbank told me about a new device they just invented. Basically, it’s a coffin that you go in and become someone else for an hour. It’s like virtual reality but with full sensory hallucinations—smell what other people smell, taste, feel, etc. I told him I’m pretty sure he read that in a Bradbury story, not in the newspaper, but he thinks I’m crazy. Don’t inventors ever look to science fiction writers for inspiration?
After we finished eating, I asked the server for a box. I meant a to-go box, but I see now I should have been more clear, though I doubt it would have helped, because what she brought me was a dainty plate with half a dozen cubes of butter on it. Burbank thought it was hilarious, but I spent the next fifteen minutes pointing at things and drawing shapes with my fingers. We both speak English, but my accent wasn’t helping her any. Eventually, I did get an empty pizza box for my spaghetti, which I settled on because at least it’s a container.
Burbank told me he’s beginning to wonder what it’s like to be other people. I think he’s thinking of our server and how stressed out it must be to get dumb Americans in here asking for plates of butter and then changing their minds. Burbank told me about a new device they just invented. Basically, it’s a coffin that you go in and become someone else for an hour. It’s like virtual reality but with full sensory hallucinations—smell what other people smell, taste, feel, etc. I told him I’m pretty sure he read that in a Bradbury story, not in the newspaper, but he thinks I’m crazy. Don’t inventors ever look to science fiction writers for inspiration?
6/12/10
51. Writing Competition
This week’s competition is a writing one, which is fitting on a writer’s blog, don’t you think? Here’s the challenge: write me a short fiction story (10 pages double spaced or less) based on something you read about in this blog. Email your entries to milohtomb@yahoo.com. The winning story will be posted next week on this blog. You have until a week from today. Go. Maybe I’ll even mail you a signed photograph of me.
Unrelated, recommendation website of the day: Author Alex Bledsoe's From Down in Lucky Town Blog. Check it out. I double dog dare you.
Unrelated, recommendation website of the day: Author Alex Bledsoe's From Down in Lucky Town Blog. Check it out. I double dog dare you.
50. Mismatched Fate
We’re in Wales for the whole weekend. We spent most of Saturday morning at the town centre and rambling around Cardiff. I love my fans, but it’s nice to take a break from all the live events. Do I love all the fans, even the crazy ones? Well…do you think I should? Let’s have a poll.
When we were walking, Burbank decided to people-watch so that he’d have something to add to his list of noticed things when we get back to the hotel. There was a lady standing on a balcony. She looked, with all due respect, like someone who belonged in a home. It was like she was meant to be a bag lady, but she’d escaped fate. A beach bum walked up and she handed down a red t-shirt on a hanger to him. Maybe he was the bag lady, so to speak. What a cruel twist! I wondered how their relationship began. The only words exchanged between them were her saying, “Here’s a clean shirt.”
When we were walking, Burbank decided to people-watch so that he’d have something to add to his list of noticed things when we get back to the hotel. There was a lady standing on a balcony. She looked, with all due respect, like someone who belonged in a home. It was like she was meant to be a bag lady, but she’d escaped fate. A beach bum walked up and she handed down a red t-shirt on a hanger to him. Maybe he was the bag lady, so to speak. What a cruel twist! I wondered how their relationship began. The only words exchanged between them were her saying, “Here’s a clean shirt.”
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