consternation and brother's story

Tuesday, July 24, 2001

Here I am, back at the keyboard. What was I thinking today that was of value? Is this going to be a diary or a place where you write thoughts down (duh, isn't that a diary). Or are you going to attempt to write a story here? I want to write a story. So what are you waiting for: I guess I don't know where to begin. Didn't you teach Randy how to begin writing? I did try. So follow your own instructions, silly. I can't believe you. You're pathetic sometimes, you realize that? Right. Here we go.

Damn. I'm not coming up with much. What have you come up so far: The steam rose off the plates in the late summer night. Doesn't that sound horrible? Yes. Very much so. But who cares? Keep going. Write something! Anything. Even if it sucks, it's at least something. A way to start getting your voice on paper.

This is a lot harder than writing business documents. Are you just realizing that now? Business documents are easier. You have a theme, you know what you want to say. This is different because it's not always clear what you're going to say before you say it. In this writing, you have to figure out how to say it at the same time as what you want to say. What are you thinking now? Besides that I want a glass of water? Go get it and come back and we'll continue this. Right.

I'm back. Are you ready to write? Yes. I'm trying here. Okay, go for it.

The wolf looked out over the snow. Is that how you want to start it? Do you have a better idea? How about some dialogue. I thought you said just to write. I'm writing something that I see. Remember, you should not start with a description. Nobody cares what it looks like in the beginning (or most places for that matter). What concerns them is what's going on. Okay, here goes again.

John looked over the ridge to where his house peeked (keep writing! Don't stop to edit. You can edit later, stupid!) His house peeked over the hills. The light was slowly fading and night was approaching. He hled his stick low , with the point aimed at his younger brother's chest. He had gotten through a number of times, but this was the first time he had made conrtact with Tim's chest. Tim looked up at his older brother. The force of the blow had knocked him down to the floor, and hay was in his hair.

'Well, get up.' John said. He reached down with his left hand and helped his younger brother to his feet. Tim's shirt was marked with a brown smudge where the stick had poked him.

'That wasn't fair. You caught me off guard,' Tim said.

'You shouldn't have left yourself so open. I've never seen you do that before. What happened?'

'It was the sun,' Tim said. He pointed off in the distance. 'The sun was setting and the hills turned purple for a moment. Iw aslooking at them when your stick poked me.

John smiled down at his younger brother and touseled his hair. 'I guess that'll teach you.'

'No sun gazing in the future. How's your leg?'

'It'll heal.' The bruises on John's leg had already begun to show. The circular skin discoloration was visible in a number of places. John knew that Tim was quick. He was more agile, faster, and somewhat stronger than his older brother. John had always been envious of Tim. Tim was a born athlete. He was stronger and faster than children two years his senior.

'Let's get back before mom and dad begin to worry.' Tim said. He still held his chest from where the stick had poked him. John smiled at his brother and ran ahead toward the house.

'No fair! You started before I was ready,' Tim said as he started giving chase to his brother. As the boys started running up the hill, Tim caught up and overtook his brother. At the top of the hill, John slowed down and held his side. Tim was halfway down the hill when he realized that his brother no longer followed him.

'What are you doing up there? It's getting dark. Hurry up or they won't save supper for us,' Tim said.

'I'll catch up. Go on ahead. Give me a moment to catch my breath.'

Tim looked back at his brother and shrugged his shoulders. He then took off toward home. John watched him as he disappeared over the hill. It was apparent that Tim hadn't even been running at his full speed when he overtook John. John shook his head. If there was one brother that was destined for something special, it was Tim.

John picked up a stick and began drawing in the ground. The stick gathered up dirt clods as he drew lines around the log on which he sat. Something special was all that he ever wanted to be. He wanted to be good at something. Tim was a better athlete. John knew and accepted that. In truth, Tim was also better at school as well. John knew that but didn't quite admit it to himself. It was strange for John to look up to his younger brother, but that's what he did.

Damn, what is this shit that you're writing about, David? It's Shannon's story, I guess. Two brothers, the younger one, Tim, is a specimen who should be able to do something special. John, the older one, looks up to his younger brother, but at the same time, can't stand him because he is his younger brother. Weird dynamics. From here, John finally gets his wish and becomes special. He's visited in a vision and told that he is going to be something in the future. He's going to save humanity. He goes off and trains in order to prepare himself for it. He's read lots of comics on what a hero is, and he follows a strict regimine to physically build himself up.

A number of years pass. He goes through college and graduates and becomes a school teacher. All the while he is waiting to be called on--or, better yet, he's waiting for 'the return,' as the vision represented it. Eventually, John grows older and forgets about the vision. John marries his high school sweetheart when in his 20s. John goes on to have three children. Tim dies when John is 30 (Tim is 28) of colon cancer. When John reaches 55, he gets his first grandchild. At 75, he has eight grandchildren from his three children. It's then that the return happens.

That's as far as I got. I think that's enough for today. I'm going to sleep (soon).