Habla blah blah

I finished the first draft of the new new short story this morning. It came in at 3400 words, about 1200 of them written today. It’s a basically plotless story, one of those naval-gazing literary things I feel compelled to write from time to time. The first one like that I ever had published was called “Time and Tide.” I remember thinking it was nigh unto brilliant when I finished, but it received several rapid rejections because of its overall structure. It was ultimately published in “Stories of Myth, Legend and Future.” That one was a fantasy tale in which the main character faced his mortality. This one is about a young boy on the verge of waking up to the world. I wrote it specifically for a Canadian anthology and is probably the most autobiographical thing I’ve ever written, even though the entire story is a fabrication, if that makes any sense.

I have to get back to the old new story this weekend. Fortunately, my next CD deadline has been pushed back to late May, which gives me some extra breathing room.

Did you know how important duct tape is in forensics? I didn’t, but as part of my day job I work with application scientists who interact with criminalists and the most recent application report they produced was about how to distinguish between the different brands produced by various manufacturers using X-ray diffraction. Apparently duct tape is one of the most common pieces of evidence left behind at crime scenes. People specialize in duct tape analysis. Fascinating.

I finally got to watch the two-hour premiere of Drive. Pretty good. Unfortunately I missed taping the second episode on Monday, so I’m going to have to track it down on the ‘net somewhere (or will it be re-run this weekend, does anyone know?) before the next episode airs. Nathan Fillion is what makes the show worth while, in my opinion, though Melanie Lynskey’s character is intriguing, too. Fillion, from Firefly, has the noir delivery down cold. Lynskey’s best line in the pilot was a deadpan “I should have shot you,” delivered to her new partner after coming up with a clever way to game the elimination edict she’d been delivered.

I received an ARC of Michael Ondaatje’s new book from Knopf last night. He’s most famous for The English Patient, but is a poet as well. My wife and daughter met him here in Texas several years back—I can’t recall the exact specifics of the encounter, but I think he was rude to them. The new one is called Divisadero and I know absolutely nothing about it. I like tackling books that way.