mwotw

These are some short notes I penned at motels and road stops between Portland and Chicago, during a roadtrip I undertook with a friend last October. They were intended for another blog, which never materialized. So here they are, instead.

Portland, OR (10/18/2006)

An old friend of Joe’s let us park the rig on a big gravel lot behind the strip joint he owns. So we did. The effect was like putting up a billboard for tits and ass. Folks pulling in for a beer and lap dance took note of us, as did the girls who came out on smoking break. We dropped some t-shirts and fliers, and Joe got to eavesdrop on some idiot’s conversation with the bartender at the bar. Seems this guy thought he knew something about Flairtending, so he’s spouting off about what superstar Flairtenders he knows and critiquing the bartender’s technique. All the while Joe, who as it turns out was the guy who first brought Flairtending from South Florida to Vegas in ‘88, is sitting there and listening and nodding to himself. “What an ass.” It occurred to me just how easy it is to be that guy who’s gone and opened up his mouth and made it abundantly clear how smart he is not. Note to self: Don’t be that guy. (more…)

The writer guy wakes up one morning miraculously inspired to work again. Mind you, he has had no contact with anyone from the outside in decades, except for the troll-like personage who brings him food twice per day through a little slot in the door, but with whom writer guy never exchanges anything but the most insubstantial dialogue (in the form of low harrumphs and taps of the foot). So writer guy has completely forgotten how to have a conversation with a normal human being… He has lost the capacity for live give-and-take. The idea that’s in his head for his next book is, therefore and accordingly, more than a little bit fukhakhde.

The gist of the plot of the book is this:

I read this now, and realize I must have been at some sort of inflection point when I wrote this — a point of change. Having been “Sam” many times, I began to lift my desire for brilliant, beautiful women to a higher plane. Enter, “Mr. Carrier” (must thank Dearest Lauren for the name). I wanted to take and give, rather than take and leave empty-handed. The power of a genius, when so restrainted so long, so unfairly, can be released by the merest touch…

Zero Positive (more…)