when he AWAKED
May. 9th, 2003 07:06 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mallorys_cameraWobbling back and forth over the corpus collosum. Right brain/left brain. Hard to find purchase in either.
Still stuck on Costco shoot-out scene – harder than I imagined to write straight action. Seem to have misplaced that literary sensibility that tells you when to telegraph. I'm stranded in this painful mind-set that dictates every motion and reaction be transcribed in excruciating and tedious slo-mo full-screen, and of course that slows the action down.
Meanwhile I'm in the midst of performing due diligence on the bookstore project. Staked out my little table, drank way too much coffee, boned up on the misadventures of Harry Bosch (why is Michael Connelly a best-selling author?)
Spied on coffee bar traffic. Over two days they averaged just a thousand bucks, about half what I'd been counting on in my projections, and again, I gotta wonder – why? The place is a hang-out, also a spot where such meetings as are taken in the sleepy little backwater that is Monterey, carry through. In the morning yesterday I sat next to three members of the Coastal Commission and learned that Evil Forces are threatening the integrity of the bicycle path in their plans to widen Highway 1.
In the afternoon, I eavesdropped on a McGraw Hill executive as she did the Temptation On the Mount number on a prospective textbook author. One tends to notice shoes a lot in situations like these: the executive's shoes were highly polished, brown, square-toed; the author was wearing black loafers that needed new heels. He was an older guy, balding with a gray corona of hair, and a foreign accent – German, maybe – and chatted up the girl behind the bar – "This is the main avenue in downtown Monterey? But not many people. Perhaps the weather keeps them away?" – in a way that made me wonder whether he was contemplating buying Bay Books.
The girl behind the coffee bar was getting lots of attention. Not a particularly pretty girl, I thought. Pioneer woman features under a perfect Mary Tyler Moore flip. When she hits my age, she's gonna start winning those Carrie Nation lookalike contests. But right now she's nubile, and the guys kept flocking – the German guy, a young teacher from Salinas (that one progressed to an exchange of phone numbers,) a demented faux-writer type. I can see the business advantage to making all the baristas young women.
In the excruciating lags between customer service, the girl bent over the counter writing and drawing in a journal.
"Are you writing a novel?" asks the faux-writer type. He is tall and gaunt, and his shoes are flaps over scarecrow soles. Middle age has not been a happy experience for him.
She shrugs, plays with her hair. Says something, laughs.
"Well, Bob is," says the guy. "Bob is writing a novel and a screenplay. You know, only a small number of novels go on to get published. I talked to a guy who talked to a famous novelist –"
"You mean the guy who wrote LA Confidential?" says Coffee Girl. "I know him. He lives in Carmel."
"It's a pretty big ego trip too," says the guy.
"He got caught up in all that ego," agrees the girl.
"It really pops your bubble."
"Everybody looking at you when you walk down the street – 'Look! There goes the famous novelist.'"
"You could handle it," says the guy.
"Oh, no," she says, looking modestly down. "I don't think I could."
"Yeah, you could. You should get a Masters Degree."
Well, I realize I'm a crotchety Boomer encroaching on cantankerous geezerhood, but honest-to-go, pickups were a lot more suave in my day.
Meanwhile, Robin sat down at the computer last night and spontaneously composed this tribute to Ted:
Robin Trumble
A Biography of Ted Attebury
The biography I am about to tell I is an AMAZING story about my old karate teacher who died of stomach cancer this week, but fought an very good fight. BECAUSE of that he stayed ALIVE longer then expected. Every day when he AWAKED he was in pain, lots of it, but he never quit.
When he first started our school I wasn't even born. He had 6 kids and trained them well. One day he started getting so many kids he needed a partner to teach BESIDE him so he put up a sign for a helper. Well when our teacher Mr. Durney saw this (it was before he was out teacher) he came on down.
"Hi I'm Matt Durney and I saw your sign and BECOMING a karate master is my dream so can I join"."
Well you can try it and see if you like it or not" said Ted. So they AGREED BETWEEN themselves that they would stick together for the school. When Mr. Attebury got sick he went away for awhile and the karate school was almost bought by Body Works but Mr.Durney took over and saved us from quitting karate and now still owns it. Well Mr.Attebury got better and better and taught for a while then even longer but then he started getting up again and got worse and everyone was sad and he didn't get better for a while but then he was good for a while and came to what he is today gone it's very sad and he will always be in our heart.
The End
Still stuck on Costco shoot-out scene – harder than I imagined to write straight action. Seem to have misplaced that literary sensibility that tells you when to telegraph. I'm stranded in this painful mind-set that dictates every motion and reaction be transcribed in excruciating and tedious slo-mo full-screen, and of course that slows the action down.
Meanwhile I'm in the midst of performing due diligence on the bookstore project. Staked out my little table, drank way too much coffee, boned up on the misadventures of Harry Bosch (why is Michael Connelly a best-selling author?)
Spied on coffee bar traffic. Over two days they averaged just a thousand bucks, about half what I'd been counting on in my projections, and again, I gotta wonder – why? The place is a hang-out, also a spot where such meetings as are taken in the sleepy little backwater that is Monterey, carry through. In the morning yesterday I sat next to three members of the Coastal Commission and learned that Evil Forces are threatening the integrity of the bicycle path in their plans to widen Highway 1.
In the afternoon, I eavesdropped on a McGraw Hill executive as she did the Temptation On the Mount number on a prospective textbook author. One tends to notice shoes a lot in situations like these: the executive's shoes were highly polished, brown, square-toed; the author was wearing black loafers that needed new heels. He was an older guy, balding with a gray corona of hair, and a foreign accent – German, maybe – and chatted up the girl behind the bar – "This is the main avenue in downtown Monterey? But not many people. Perhaps the weather keeps them away?" – in a way that made me wonder whether he was contemplating buying Bay Books.
The girl behind the coffee bar was getting lots of attention. Not a particularly pretty girl, I thought. Pioneer woman features under a perfect Mary Tyler Moore flip. When she hits my age, she's gonna start winning those Carrie Nation lookalike contests. But right now she's nubile, and the guys kept flocking – the German guy, a young teacher from Salinas (that one progressed to an exchange of phone numbers,) a demented faux-writer type. I can see the business advantage to making all the baristas young women.
In the excruciating lags between customer service, the girl bent over the counter writing and drawing in a journal.
"Are you writing a novel?" asks the faux-writer type. He is tall and gaunt, and his shoes are flaps over scarecrow soles. Middle age has not been a happy experience for him.
She shrugs, plays with her hair. Says something, laughs.
"Well, Bob is," says the guy. "Bob is writing a novel and a screenplay. You know, only a small number of novels go on to get published. I talked to a guy who talked to a famous novelist –"
"You mean the guy who wrote LA Confidential?" says Coffee Girl. "I know him. He lives in Carmel."
"It's a pretty big ego trip too," says the guy.
"He got caught up in all that ego," agrees the girl.
"It really pops your bubble."
"Everybody looking at you when you walk down the street – 'Look! There goes the famous novelist.'"
"You could handle it," says the guy.
"Oh, no," she says, looking modestly down. "I don't think I could."
"Yeah, you could. You should get a Masters Degree."
Well, I realize I'm a crotchety Boomer encroaching on cantankerous geezerhood, but honest-to-go, pickups were a lot more suave in my day.
Meanwhile, Robin sat down at the computer last night and spontaneously composed this tribute to Ted:
Robin Trumble
A Biography of Ted Attebury
The biography I am about to tell I is an AMAZING story about my old karate teacher who died of stomach cancer this week, but fought an very good fight. BECAUSE of that he stayed ALIVE longer then expected. Every day when he AWAKED he was in pain, lots of it, but he never quit.
When he first started our school I wasn't even born. He had 6 kids and trained them well. One day he started getting so many kids he needed a partner to teach BESIDE him so he put up a sign for a helper. Well when our teacher Mr. Durney saw this (it was before he was out teacher) he came on down.
"Hi I'm Matt Durney and I saw your sign and BECOMING a karate master is my dream so can I join"."
Well you can try it and see if you like it or not" said Ted. So they AGREED BETWEEN themselves that they would stick together for the school. When Mr. Attebury got sick he went away for awhile and the karate school was almost bought by Body Works but Mr.Durney took over and saved us from quitting karate and now still owns it. Well Mr.Attebury got better and better and taught for a while then even longer but then he started getting up again and got worse and everyone was sad and he didn't get better for a while but then he was good for a while and came to what he is today gone it's very sad and he will always be in our heart.
The End
