Showing posts with label writing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label writing. Show all posts

Friday, June 16, 2023

144;Uncle Albert's Mountain,( The Lure Of The Mountain King;) Chapter XIV; January

 



                                                       January

 

     Tom didn’t enjoy holidays. They were all the same: Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Years, just another excuse to spend money or have a party. Sara had asked him to Thanksgiving dinner with her folks but he refused. A cheeseburger platter at the diner and writing some letters was how he spent the holiday. It was typically the way he caught up with family and friends, it was the least he could do, since he didn’t visit them. It was how he was going to spend New Years. Tom had almost five pages written to his Godson and was still at it. David of course would have to do the actual reading. Young Tom would at least know his God Father was alive and well. Someday he could look back and remember those letters and get to know Uncle Tom and the mountains he loved so deeply.

     Tom had always been an avid reader, He remembered his parents, once a month, opening the family diary and read stories of their history. Uncle Snowshoe, the famed skiing mailman, started the tradition. Through the generations, the album had collected hundreds of stories, it was a unique family tree passed down from father to son. The telling of stories was imprinted in Tom’s heritage. Tom contributed when he was young and he looked forward to including his mountain exploits. He wanted to give back to his family and to others less fortunate all the days he had cherished so fervently. Life itself was one long story he believed, and the best tales were beginning right now. He wrote them down when he could. He felt he owed it to his family, children and future generations. The true great legends are the ones that give back what they take.

 

     He looked out the window. It had started snowing. The bright amber streetlights illuminated the large swirling flakes. They were millions of gold coins falling from heaven.

     “God really knows what he’s doing up there,” Tom thought. Sometimes he wished he had paid a little more attention to religion over the years. Living up in the mountains surrounded by all the incredible wonders makes you realize that it didn’t just happen by accident. A higher power was definitely at work.

 

     He clicked off the light and stretched out on his bead. The room was small. It barely fit the matching dresser and the desk was jammed tight into the corner. It was at least clean and he had slept in some miserable places and some very interesting ones. In Wyoming, he slept in a converted railroad box cars in bunk beds, ate in dinning cars and showered in separate shower cars all for the sake of money for another season pass to Jackson Hole, Wyoming and a chance to ski Corbett’s Colouir. This was a pleasure. The falling snow reminded him of building a leanto in the Arapahoe Natonal Forest. He had slept through a fierce blizzard only to be awakened by a hoot owl. He could have sworn it called out his name. The owl had saved his life.

 

     He looked up at the ticking alarm clock. It read 1:15 in the morning.

     “Happy New Year, Tom My Boy,” he said to himself. The New Year had come and gone while he had been so engrossed in his writing. He reflected cheerfully that a full year had gone bye. It seemed to him that the years flew by quicker. The changes are the only things that remain the same in life. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and silently prayed. Not for any one or anything in particular, but just to let God know he was trying his best to lead a good life. What better way to live than to enjoy and love the magnificent work and the fresh powder he had lain down for him.

     “Thank you,” he whispered.  He drifted off to sleep.


Sri Hanuman Chalesa/Gates of Sweet Nectar, Krishna Das, Door of Faith

Monday, June 12, 2023

143;Uncle Albert's Mountain, Chapter XIII; David and Tom; The Lure of the Mountain KIng

   David Randall was sitting in the Lodge having his third cup of coffee. He was watching a few skiers that were on the mountain this early and enjoying the sun. It was fascinating a wonderful way to live, he thought, but it was not the way for him. Having time to think over the last couple of days, he realized his life was back with his family. How he could even think of throwing it away, made him lonely, and long for them all the more.

     Tom was actually his best friend. They didn’t see each other very much any more. He had a few friends at work, but they were only business associates. The only things they ever talked about were insurance matters. It was extremely boring, even for an insurance man. He turned around to catch the two boys sneaking up behind him.

     “How was Denver?” Toby asked. “They can’t run the company without you?”

     “I wish that was the case. They just need someone to spout orders.”

     “You mean you’re not the radical S.O.B. I’ve grown to love?” Tom questioned.

     “I’m merely a shadow of my former self, caught forever in the red tape of life.”

     “And quite the philosopher also,” Toby added.

     “He was always good at throwing the bull,” Tom interjected.

     “I hope you don’t mind Toby, but I would like to talk to Tom for a few minutes alone.”

     “No problem. I have to talk to Joe anyway. See you later.”

     “I’m afraid not. I am leaving today. It was great to meet you. Good Luck at the Olympics.”

     “Thanks.”

 

     “What’s up D.R.?”

     “I’d like you to come back with me Tom. If not today, then very soon.”

     “What do you mean?”

     “Well for one, we need someone at the office. The pay is excellent. You can stay at my place until you are on your feet, financially. You can get to know your godson. I’ll even spring for the plane fare home. What do you say?”

     Tom looked perplexed, like he didn’t understand a word he had said.

     “You’re kidding me right?”

     “No not at all. Look around you. What do you have? Not a damn thing! I’m giving you a free chance to make whatever you want out of your life. All you have to do is go for it.”

     Tom stood there and just stared at his friend. He couldn’t believe what he had heard. Slowly, he shook his head, and then glanced off into the distance, deep in thought. Tom was always good at covering up his emotions. It was several long minutes before he turned his attention back to his friend.

     “Look Dave, I appreciate the offer, I honestly do. It’s just I can’t go back now. Not yet, I’m not ready. Whenever there was a fight or something that I had to stand for I was the leaver. Left everything that ever meant anything to me. My gaze was always on the open road. A free spirit in the wind if you know what I mean.”

     He didn’t know where the decision had come from. He had grown so much through his relationship with Sara. It was uncharted territory for him. It was in his blood, his being. It was an instinctual part of his being. He cared for little people, places and things. Whenever a decision had to be made, he would think about it for a while and let his heart make the final decision. He would always listen to his heart. When it came to the mountains, especially this mountain, it told him to stay.

     “I think your making a big mistake, Tom,” Dave lectured. “You have got to take a stand somewhere in life. Can’t you see the waste? Don’t you know the monetary value of the days your throwing away?”

     “I can’t believe you’re preaching to me about the value of time. I take every day as it comes. I relish every moment up here like it was my very last. We are only visitor’s here. When I’m an old man D.R. I’ll remember the days on this mountain with a great fondness. Not just for the experience, but also that it was my youth and I didn’t give it away. We didn’t have to go to war. We went to ski, Dave. I climb the Professor on full moon evenings and with my friends we ski the old mine dumps in fresh powder. I don’t want the weight of your financial empire on my shoulders. You seem to be carrying it just fine, pal”

     David knew when it was pointless to argue. Tom made up his mind and nothing, and no one would be able to change it. Tom’s determination was unwavering once he had a goal in sight. If a mountain was involved, he would conquer it, no amount of pain, would alter his course. It was his strong weakness.

     “I guess there is nothing more to say.”

     “It was good to see you again,” Tom hugged his friend.

     Tom watched as David made his way across the parking lot He had the urge to jump up and start it again with him. It wasn’t strong enough to change his mind. The internal fight raged on. The logical side wanting to build all the things he never had. The emotional side needing to drift freely through life, experience every second of everyday.

     “Damn you Snowshoe Thompson why did you have to be my Uncle and fill my head with mountain dreams?” he cursed.


By Your Grace/Jai Gurudev, Krishna Das, Heart As Wide As The World

Friday, November 20, 2020

Thirty-Three: Channeling Ernest Hemingway In The Time Of Coranavirus


“In going where you have to go, and doing what you have to do, and seeing what you have to see, you'll dull and blunt the instrument you write with. But I would rather have it bent and dull and know I had to put it to the grindstone again and hammer it into shape and put a whetstone to it, and know that I had something to write about, than to have it bright and shining and nothing to say, or smooth and well-oiled in the closet, but unused.

Ernest Hemingway


    Live your Life to the fullest. Hemingway would punch it in the nose. He was a battler a hard driving, hard drinking, hard living, deep loving, deeply driven soul. You would do well to channel his spirit in these times. Confront the things that you fear, with all his success Hemingway was said to be afraid of success. Are you your own worst enemy? Are you engaged in your negative self talk? Are you listening to the wrong you? The you that is in your home and living in fear. Step out of your comfort zones. My moments of greatest personal triumphs have been the times that caution has been thrown to the wind. Let your self soar! Do what it is you have always wanted to do! Not even Covid- 19 can stop you! Be safe take care of yourself, but plan for your finest hour. It is already in the ether!

 

Wednesday, July 29, 2020

Seventeen: In Times Of Political Turmoil



     "When you see that in order to produce, you need to obtain permission from men who produce nothing - When you see that money is flowing to those who deal, not in goods, but in favors - When you see that men get richer by graft and by pull than by work, and your laws don't protect you against them, but protect them against you - When you see corruption being rewarded and honesty becoming self-sacrifice - You may know that your society is doomed."
                                                                                               Ayn Rand
                                                                                               Atlas Shrugged 1957

     Normally we do not have political posts, but recently in cleaning out my notes on my I - phone this quote popped up. It was something that struck my senses very deeply. It is hard to make your way through the fear of Coronavirus, dying, suffering untold agony, isolationism to the extreme and the outright lying and deceit that is cable news media these days. We have never been the type to bury our heads in the sand. To not recognize the truth and post it would be beyond any reason that we would ever have for writing. While there are no other answers than to see it and to say it, we all must find the truth to believe in and hold steadfast to it. When we were young we protested, we believed in what we were doing so much we fought in the streets. When we see the people in the streets now, we can't help but to understand their frustration. We believed these things were addressed and yes even taken care of. Enter our President and Disrupter in Chief and in a few short years, chaos reins supreme, with the above quote being the truest words that have been spoken in years.
     Get out and vote, protest, become an activist but do not go quietly into the night. What ever you believe, you had better believe with your entire heart and soul, because you are being sold a bill of bad goods by those that are elected to serve you. They are serving themselves to whatever you and your children thought you had in the way of a society and a country. You need to speak your mind and your peace, you need to do it loudly and with great conviction. Change takes place with you, me, and the next American. Be the change you want to see in the world. If you sing, sing, if your write, write better, if you paint, paint your masterpiece!


Saturday, July 11, 2020

Nine: Avoidance In The Time Of The Coronavirus



Far better is it to dare mighty things, to win glorious triumphs, even though checkered by failure... than to rank with those poor spirits who neither enjoy nor suffer much, because they live in a gray twilight that knows not victory nor defeat.

Avoidance is the lack of the ability to confront a situation, place, person or time. There is an inherent quality to individuals who are willing to pick up the yoke and carry the load. In mountaineering, there is a fixed goal. The Summit is the place or the destination. Often as you are climbing you can look at the terrain and surrounding slopes and feel that your are summiting. In reality it is often a false summit or as in life a falsehood. Who would be the wiser to the fact that you did not reach the lofty goal of the attainment of the Top. You and your creator is the only answer. One must be true to oneself, no matter what the cost. To state or fix a goal and to not be willing to expend the effort and time to obtain the goal is failure. In the Mountains Nature Draws a Razors Thin Edge of Existence, you must accept the challenge and conquer nature or it will have forever conquered you. Writing is a challenge but through exercises and constant work even it may be summited! If you knew you had an appointment one that was written not by you, but for you, would you keep it? When you make the decision the vision becomes the release!

Sunday, August 11, 2019

Assimilation




                                                                Assimilation

It is from deep inside
I do perceive
the vicious web
society weaves.

When you are young
and your mind still blank
they assimilate you through
their ungodly rank.

Where,

Conform! Conform!
are the words  well worn
and individuality
pays
the price of scorn.
Today's Song
"Dust in the Wind," Kansas

Monday, July 8, 2019

The Art of Retirement





      Ok the big day has come and gone. It seems that the last few months became unbearable. Once you give yourself permission to stop being in the work world you are not. Several years before deciding to retire my wife, Kathy, set up this blog for me for when I retire. She has always supported my writing mindset. My editor, confidant, critic, and fan Kathy has always encouraged my writing. I would not have a book on Amazon nor would I be writing under the name of Write My Fire. I am fortunate to have gotten the girl!
     The question now about retirement is where do you go from here. Is writing just for pleasure? Should I try to make money or publish a product? The need being is to supplement my income so that we can travel to do the things that we enjoy and also gather the experiences to draw future writing from. The natural thing for me is to do what I know. I have been told before to write about what you know. However I have never wanted to write a Plumbing and Heating blog nor have I ever wanted to write about pipes. The answer to the question may be to reinvent yourself. Is this what Grandma Moses did? Don't know what she did before picking up a paintbrush!
     What it really appears to be to me is an opportunity. There are many things in my life that I have left unfinished. Writing projects started but no completed. If you were to go back and look at all of my blogs from the beginning you would see that there are stories and thoughts that were begun but not pursued. A Historical novel that I have an outline, first chapter and notes for as well as a first act of a screen play. I even enrolled in a screenwriting workshop in Aspen when I was living there. Then there is a novel about writers estranged wishing to write with one another that is almost complete. It lacks a better beginning and a couple middle chapters in order to be complete. I wrote the book by writing separate short stories with the same characters designed to be linked together into a novel. Completion is not that far away.
     The answer is in the list. Like writing an outline, a list of half started works and ideas could be fleshed out and completed and turned into finished works. Not to mention many ideas and short stories that have been begun like blogs started and sitting in my blog sphere with the big red label of Draft on them. Yes there is also all of my poetry that was not included in Of Mountains and Men. Finish what you start!

Thursday, April 9, 2015

Reality, Once Again Rears Its Ugly Head

   Reality bites it creeps into your fantasies and to your writing dreams and says, "Get a job!" I know many writers, write novels when they are commuting on subways, and trains. I am working at scheduling my writing early in the morning. It lends to a clear mind and good work. My work is physical and I find it difficult to write after a full day of work. It doesn't mean that I haven't sat down at the end of the day, relaxed and found myself working well at something. However, I think if I wanted to let myself dream and go, I would prefer to work at research and fleshing out my Historical Work on a more full time basis. I suppose that it is my job to make it happen. It is my reality right now. So the advice I would give to myself is that if you want it to happen that you should buckle down and work harder at making it happen.


     On the bright side my work on Out of America is progressing well. My Chapter, Ford's Porch was a 1200 words when I opened it up and it is decent. The rest, Children of a Greater God, and the opening Chapter, which needs to be rewritten to include a perspective of what my Heroine thinks of the main character, needs to be totally redone. Unfortunately, from a personal perspective, I have no clue what that was. I guess that is why they call it fiction. Invent it and make it real. Sell it so to speak!


   The very best part of being in Grand Junction is that the Real Estate Market with The University becoming a real University and not a State College the growth is tremendous. There is a wonderful opportunity in investment right now. It is possible to leave the area with increased assets by investing in local Real Estate. All of which takes time away from any kind of writing schedule with working full time. A juggling act for sure. I guess that is where you set and make your priorities in life. I want to try harder to move writing to the fore front of the list. Happy Writing and Trails to You.

A Cute Little Song
 "Delirious" Luka Bloom

Thursday, March 19, 2015

Aspen Colorado City Limits ( The Cross Roads Blues)


  If you use all available outward means, as well as  your natural abilities, to overcome every obstacle in your path, you will develop the powers that God gave you- unlimited powers that flow from your innermost forces of your being. You possess the power of thought and the power of will, utilize to the uttermost these divine gifts.

Sri Sri Paramahansa Yogananda

    I was a young man with many unhealthy obsessions, extreme skiing was one of them, not to mention several others. While it has made for living an extremely hard life, (Sometimes) it is the grist for extremely good literature.

   Our home in Battlement Mesa is finally set to close on Friday the 20th. It has been a long and difficult sale. Stressful to say the least on all of us, our plans for Oregon as you have seen have been temporarily put on hold. I have way too much inventory to sell and we just could not down size so quickly. Seven years of being relieved from our ball and chain of a bad investment in real estate  in Colorado since the economical debacle a few years ago, especially living in Gas Land. Home of gas drilling in Western Colorado. We lived in the boom or bust region and it went bust. Leaving our local economy in the Pits, no pun intended, well maybe a little one. We are leaving the safest neighborhood in America. It would have been a wonderful place to raise children, the Gas Company donated a new fire house, larger than in most cities of New York. They donated a new health clinic and new middle school. All of this was done for the express purpose of drilling ten gas wells within the town limits. There is currently a controversy over directional drilling. It is drilling a multi-well head in different directions from the same head. I do not have anything against progress, but Drilling and Fracing under suburban homes seems to me to be a recipe for disaster. When it comes to the rape of the land and the safety of the surface dwellers for the sake of gas in the ground, I draw the line on reason.

   It was premature of us to think that we could liquidate a large house, sell my inventory from my plumbing and heating business and move across country with a geriatric golden retriever all in one fell swoop, without the use of a semi and incurring large expenses. The move to Grand Junction, Colorado, the gateway to the West, has always made sense to us. It is the home of the Colorado National Monument and some very beautiful walking parks.

   I have vowed to redouble my effort to bring my short story collection, White Dreams, and my unfinished novel, Out of America, and my research on my Historical Novel to fruition. The Historical work is the life and times of the people inhabiting Arapahoe Basin Ski Area through the winter of 1978-1979, their hopes, their dreams an their struggles. I have no doubt that the owner Joe, bought and built the mountain with the intention to sell to whatever company owned Keystone the larger area down the mountains and retire in Montana. What I would like to know by interviewing all the people there at the time was what where their hopes, their dreams, and where have they gone an what have they done with their lives since, and how did they feel about the mountain. Did they love it as much as I? What did they feel when it was sold? There is a greater underlying truth that still evades my perception. It is one of those obsessions that have made for hard living on my part, but as I have said it makes for great literature.

   We are settling in to our new little home. Soon I will develop a good writing routine and the stress of the move will be over. I have a lifetime to continue this quest. So over the next year, if we stay here after liquidating all our top heavy possessions, look for snipits of my short stories and chapters from Out of America. It began as a tragic short story (of course) titled a Terribly Bitter Ending. Another obsession, that has blossomed into a a Romance Novel of love, commitment, joy, and the personal fulfillment of unrealized dreams, and the triumph of one man against the odds. I will probably show the end chapter. It's Never Over Until It's Over first. The work is set in the 1989 World Alpine Skiing Championships of Beaver Creek, Colorado.

    Rome was not built in a day and writing careers don't happen overnight. They take years to establish. I am not foolish enough to think I will have overnight success. I know successful writers who have spent years at their craft and faced multitude of rejections. The most intriguing rejection I have ever received was for a story I wrote about a ski bum character. The rejection said that your central character has no obvious means of support. Really, that was the whole point of the story, that you sacrifice a lot in life to pursue a career of an extreme ski enthusiast.

   Now down to some serious writing and blogging. Spring has sprung in Western, Colorado. Yes I can go and see the Metropolitan Opera broadcast live in a theatre near us. Good to be back in Civilization!

Happy St. Patrick's Day! Beau and Murph















Beau in his PJ'S





















Sunday, July 21, 2013

The Last Train To The Coast

Now you know that I have set a side my worn out Strohlz jet foamed ski boots. They were a Christmas gift from my High School sweet heart. It has been forty years since I decided to take a year off from the pursuit of an Engineering Degree to spend a winter skiing in America. During those years I have watched the sunset and the snows come to almost every major mountain range in North America and worked at every possible job that would advance that goal. I have lived in converted railroad box cars that were made into sleeping bunks on the desolate plains of Wyoming, to multi-million dollar log homes on Missouri Flats in Aspen Colorado for the sake of the next steeper run filled with that precious white gold, powder snow.

This year as the snows and Winter Olympics come to Sochi, Russia, a place where I would have never ever dreamed of skiing nor imagined ever being able to visit, I am beginning what I hope will be the culmination of my life long dream of pursuing mountain tops. The dream is to write about them. I have recently completed a course on self-publishing e-books. After many false starts of writing and compiling a collection of short stories that are worthy of publishing, the day has arrived. The stories have been edited and assembled in a collection titled “The Lure Of The Mountain King And Other Stories.” It is my goal and dream to move forward and be able to finally tackle the greatest challenge of my life. I hope to move from being a writer as a hobby to being a writer making a living at it. Just like the obsession of pursuing the Mountain King, I am possessed by the desire to write about my time on the Mountain King, Arapahoe Basin. There have been many false starts and outright failures on my part to move toward this accomplishment. I can only equate those to the times that I spent skiing first green circle trails (easiest), then blue box trails (more difficult), then black diamond trails (most difficult), to finally climbing out of bounds all day to ski trails where there aren’t even any names or boundaries.

In their infinite wisdom grandmothers all seem to understate the obvious not only did my grandmother tell me "(Albert), word’s ... they are the key." She always said you have to crawl before you can walk. How very fitting for someone who grew up being a part of the instant gratification society, having recently lived through a “Great Recession” that turned the equity in my home, (that I was planning on using the proceeds for moving to the ocean in Oregon and walking on the beach while writing my short stories and novels), to being a commander of a submarine, (my beautiful Stonewood Grande), in Parachute, Colorado.

The greatest lesson that I have ever learned has been at the knees of my grandparents who lived through the real great depression. The lesson is to dream and if you are going to dream, why not make them big dreams. When song writers dream and write about salvation, they always seem to write about their salvation as a train. You know the great gospel songs about trains. One in particular titled “People get Ready.”  The lyrics are “People get ready there's a train a - coming, you don’t need no ticket, you just get on board. All you need is faith to hear the diesel’s humming. Don’t need no ticket, you just thank the lord.” Hell, even Dylan titled an album “Slow Train Coming.”  I guess that is why I titled this piece, The Last Train To The Coast. It is my last big dream to be at the ocean and writing about my life in and on the mountains.


I have started what I hope will be the very last vehicle and business to get me there. Capitol Plumbing and Heating, named after the second highest peak in Colorado. Here is to big mountains, big dreams, and walking hand in hand with my beautiful wife on a big beach next to the big ocean.

Wednesday, April 14, 2010

Writing Is Writing Is Writing

My wife Kathy is an analytical critical personality. She is a teacher and a writer of informative articles on Ezine. I am a poet and a dreamer and I write fiction. So often I set out to write a blog, I know our blog is primarily about writing for writers about writing. In my latest blog attempt I began writing a wonderfully sentimental piece about our rescue ranch and my first white Appaloosa named Snowy.

When Kathy said, “What the hell are you writing Al, our blog is about writers and writing." I respond by saying,” Whatever,” and get angry and don’t want to write a blog. I am instead off on a fantastic stroll down memory lane and wondering how I could possibly turn it in to a great piece of fiction. If I tweak the truth just a little here and add some description there, because everyone knows that detail make the lie more believable, I just might have something saleable.

My question then becomes is writing about writing not writing fiction, or a memoir, or just writing about becoming a writer? I just want to write more prolifically and better. When I sit down to write, am I undisciplined if I go off on a memoir, and turn it in to a fiction piece titled, Snowy Got His Wings? Isn’t creativity and outlet for simply creating and if you push and step beyond the whiteness of the page aren’t you writing? Al Bianchine

Saturday, February 20, 2010

To Write Or Not To Write ...

Writing has always seemed subjective to me. Sometimes, I look at the fiction that I have just written and say, “This is real garbage. I’ll never be good at this.” I absolutely remember the first time one of my characters came alive on the page. It was an argument scene between a man and a woman. The end was already written. I had played it out in my head. There were all these cute little sayings and witticisms that my man guy was going to use to dominate this timid controllable woman and win the argument.

It started simply and progressed accordingly, but something seemed to happen along the way. This timid little woman all of a sudden got a back bone. She stood up strait and tall, tucked in her shirt, pulled up her pants, and let my man guy have a verbal tongue lashing. You know the one that only a fed up domineered woman of a stupid controlling abusive idiot for a boyfriend kind of gal can deliver. I was shocked. She wasn’t supposed to win. She was supposed to be left speechless. Instead, during the writing I found myself saying, “you go girl. You tell this jerk of a man exactly what you think of him.”

“Yeah, and Furthermore, Mr. Holier than thou, let me tell you how I really feel about you.” I couldn’t believe it but at the end of the paragraph, I was part of the sisterhood. She had won me over and taken on a life all of her own. I couldn’t have stopped her if I had wanted. It was surreal. I guess when you come right down to it, there is no question. Some times you say, “Yes, Dear,” and you write what you’re told. Albert Bianchine