I think I'm hooked

I watched 6 episodes of "The Big Bang Theory" on my flight home...along with "Guess Who's Coming To Dinner?" (60s liberalism at its most cloying), "The French Connection" (all the depth of a puddle of water), "All About Steve" (I now agree Bradley Cooper is the sexiest man alive and still love Sandra Bullock, but what a stupid movie), part of "Anatomy of a Murder" (see it and it's still boring), "The Last King of Scotland" (ugly, just ugly) and "Quantum of Solace" (seen it and still prefer "Bourne"), and episodes of "Castle", "Body of Evidence" (meh), "Bones" (I don't get this one), "Psych" (trying WAY too hard) and something else, I think...all in order to drown out that obnoxious baby. And the only one I fully, completely, and totally enjoyed was "TBBT".

It's a rare comedy that can educate you as well as it tickles your funny bone. I remember seeing the first episode way back when the show began and thought it was going to go for the typical dumb jokes directed at nerds. And having the requisite dumb, beautiful but sweet blond thrown in actually helped me decide not to watch it, again. Well, I was wrong to do that.

The show's jokes are brilliant, and I actually laughed when the soundtrack laughed. Sheldon's relationship with Leonard is so much like two vaguely competitive brothers, I cared about both of them...even though Sheldon really is an arrogant, prickly little shit. With Raj and Howard to round out the quartet, this seemed too much like a group of people I actually knew in Houston.

What's even better is, I saw an episode that is fairly recent and has the dumb blond being friends with a couple of female geniuses, one of whom is played by Mayim Bialik, who was "Blossom" and played Bette Midler as a child in "Beaches"! Her deadpan delivery of some very cutting but appallingly frank lines is priceless. I bought the Amazon download of the first season and will watch it from beginning to end (it's cheaper than Netflix and a lot quicker, too).

I didn't get home till after midnight, last night; my plane from Newark was an hour late. And just to add to my bitching about that damned airport -- at 8:15 (an hour prior to my planned departure), I went to grab a DP and set up downstairs where the gate is located. (The flight's a 38 seat puddle jumper so you go outside, in the rain, drop off your bag for gate-check because it's too big for the overhead bin, and climb the steps into a cabin you cannot stand upright in.) Well, I pass by the "Departures" screen...and just happen to notice that the one flight to Buffalo that's listed there is saying, "Departed." And it was my flight number.

Well...I'd be lying if I didn't say I freaked out and did a screeching u-turn and ran straight to the gate (since no one else was around to talk to with United), wondering if I'd have to take an overnight train to get home (not something I wanted to do because I was really feeling the need for a bath after that stuffy 777) and why wasn't there an announcement in the airport and howling curses in my mind. That's where I learned it was an error on the airport's part, and that my plane wasn't even on its way to pick us up, yet. And they never corrected it on the main screens.

It is now my goal in life to avoid Newark forever.

Newark's Airport Is The Pits!

I can see why people don't like coming here. It's very disorganized and not at all people friendly. But then, United/Continental is not the most user-friendly airline out there. The plugs under my row of seats for the 777 from Hong Kong to Newark did not work. I heard other passengers complaining about that, too, as we disembarked. And there was a noisy baby -- sometimes happy, sometimes bawling -- the whole 14 hours, while the crew did as little as they could to deal with it. I wound up watching half the movies and a number of TV shows offered on the flight just to drown out the brat's noise. The food was "meh," and was all but tossed at us as the crew whipped by pushing their tall, narrow carts, and you do not have the option to direct AC at you on those planes, like you do on 737s, so it can get stuffy in there.

Air travel is definitely not the joy it used to be.

But Newark takes the cake. It's old, ratty-looking, uncomfortable, and you have to pay for WiFi while I'd get it free at JetBlue in JFK. Plus there is no way for you to connect to another terminal except by Air Train unless you completely leave the terminal. Then you have to go through security, again.

I'm stuck here till 9:15 and am not happy about that. I wish I'd been able to take Cathay out of Toronto. Direct flight both ways.

Damn, I'm tired. I must be repeating myself. Maybe I'll try and take a short nap.

Hong Kong Airport

There's just one word for this place -- big. Nicely planned out...but my gate is literally a mile from the checkin counter. I have to take a train to get there. I got a glimpse of that when I took the cable car up to the big Buddha in Ngong Pin.

I took a photo but it was so hazy it didn't come out very good, so I'll play with it in photoshop. But you can see the beginning of it to the left in this photo. Until then...this is the second leg of the journey up to the Buddha. rising maybe 700 feet up a hillside and supported by nothing but that cable. They offer a car with a glass bottom so you can look straight down, but it was $100HK extra so I used that as my excuse not to travel that way.

This was actually an interesting journey, once you got past all the gift shops for tourists. There are about 250 steps up to the Buddha, and I climbed them. Hell, I climbed Arthur's Seat and that was up 200 meters above Edinburgh, so I figured I could do this. I only had to stop to let my weary legs catch up to me four times (my lungs used that as their excuse for me to stop).

I saw the gold reclining Buddha in Bangkok and that was impressive, but it seemed a bit cheesy. This one seemed just right, for some reason -- on top of the mountain with a spectacular view, a hazy day keeping the sun's heat off, and various people standing at respectful distances, silently praying.

I'm not sorry to be heading home, not like I was when I visited Ireland or Berlin, but it turned out to be a decent trip. At least now I can say I've been here...and I honestly have no need to return except for business.

More impressions

This is from The Peak. You take a funicular cable car up a 45 degree slope for five minutes then ride up a series of 6 escalators, the last of which costs an additional $28 HK to reach the very tip-top...and now I know where they take those famous photos of the city. That was yesterday.

Today…I hopped a ferry to Kowloon to see about getting my name on a chop (a seal that has “Kyle” in Chinese characters carved into it). The concierge said The Jade Market might be a good place to look. But that area so reminded me of Bangkok with its traffic and crowds and people hawking everything and almost getting mauled in the Market to get me to buy something (albeit with none of the heat and humidity), I left within an hour and caught the metro back. Then I hopped an express bus to Stanley and got it done there on a deep blue stone polished to perfection with a soft white streak down one side. Cost me $25 US, but I like it. Now I just have to remember which end is up when I use it.

I’ve seen enough of Hong Kong. Parts of it are amazingly beautiful while parts are hideous. There really are some breathtaking skyscrapers, while so many other buildings just bring out a WTF reaction. The place is fairly clean -- the Metro was phenomenally so -- but I’ve seen areas that are trashed up, and don’t get me started on the narrow little alleyways. As for the people, I've decided they have this passive-aggressive sort of politeness going on. If you’re talking to them, they’re normally very helpful...to an extent;  but man, if you’re in their way, they will shove you aside. And nothing, nothing, nothing is free.

As for the traffic -- it’s like this insane version of "chicken" when cars or busses or trucks need to change lanes or merge. I stood on the first floor walkway (our 2^nd floor) of the China Resources Building, Thursday evening, and watched the ebb and flow along Gloucester Road of remarkably undamaged vehicles as taxis, vans and sedans zipped off a cross road to force their way into the backup. It was almost like ballet…no, Martha Graham style dancing is more like it. Very impressionistic.

It was a bright sunny day and a bit on the warm side, and even though I was using sun block, I still got pinked up around the nose and cheeks, and my brain (what little I have) got baked more than I expected. The bus back from Stanley stops in front of my hotel so I hopped off, sat in a nice hot tub for half an hour and took a nap, so now I’ll be up late.

Am I sorry I came? Not really. It actually sort of met my expectations as a place I’d like to see but not stay at for very long. Unfortunately, it’s also made me less interested in visiting Tokyo, and for sure no-place else in the Western Pacific Rim even begins to attract me.

Just call me Euro-centric.

Quickie

I’ve never seen so many Rolls Royces outside of LA or London as I have in Hong Kong. A lot of Jags and Mercedes, as well, along with Maseratis and Lamborginis.  Traffic is as bad as LA in rush hour and the people are non-stop. Talk about a 24 hour city, whooh.

Their skyscrapers look like they’re out of “Blade Runner” or Times Square and some are amazingly ugly. But then, so are some of the cars, with their cheap-assed super-chrome front ends. And nothing’s free in this town if they can help it. Wifi at my hotel is about $5 for an hour.

My plane trip wasn’t bad. I had an aisle seat at the back of the plane, but they de-load you fast. It took less time to empty a 777 than it does to get everyone out of a Southwest 737. The food was meh, but I had so much space to play with, it was worth it. If the woman beside me hadn’t been so restless and flumpy, it would’ve been perfect.

Move-in’s all done at the book fair and everyone’s happy. I’m dropping by shortly to make double sure then doing the tourist thing, I guess. Then comes Sunday evening, when all hell will break loose because they aren’t allowing anywhere near enough time for the dealers to pack and get their stuff out. That does not look pretty.

Oh, and I thought I'd found a good steak place by the convention center, but I made a major error -- I ordered a Chilean Sea Bass. Never order surf at a turf shop; they won’t know how to make it edible. And it cost WAY too much. I'm stuck with Mickey D's from now on, to keep on budget.

Back of the plane

I'm about to spend 16 hours in the back of a 777 flying from Newark to Hong Kong, and I SO look forward to it, being a masochist, at heart. Not. But that was the only way I could get an aisle seat. Every other aisle seat was taken. But since I don't sleep well on planes, I guess it'll be okay. I'll have room for my laptop and at least one elbow can stretch.

My plan is to keep working on IF. I want to have a first draft done by the middle of December, and I have a ways to go.

It's funny, but as much as I love to travel and see new places, I'm not looking forward to this trip. It's one of those, "I'll do what I have to do" types of journeys, since I'm going because of work. But Hong Kong and I got off on the wrong foot and so I'm leery. Besides, I've never been fond of Chinese food so God knows what I'll be able to eat while I'm there. When I was in Bangkok, I found this one place that had a good beef curry and that's all I ate. I'm just not into chow mein or kung pao anything.

Maybe I'll come back weighing 160 pounds, again. HA! What a way to diet -- just not be able to feed.

We'll see if blogging continues...

Wordless Sunday

How I feel...and hoping those teeth are on my side.

How I wish I was...in total control. 

51,133...but more to go

Okay...I finally, finally, finally hit the threshold, this morning, and have no idea how. Word's count was higher than the NaNoWriMo validator count is...but it wasn't off enough to matter. I met the challenge, again, and have the beginnings of another book...and I used this image to help keep me focused on what it's about.

I say "beginnings" not so much because this is a first draft but more because it isn't, yet. I'm probably 10,000 words away from a full first draft so really won't be done till the end of December, but this is the meat of the story. And after some casting about and back and forth and circling and sniffing of butts (symbolically, like dogs do when they're trying to figure out if they like each other, not literally; Vinnie's not the least bit gay), he and I found a better, more Noir-ish voice for him. I don't think it will take away the fantasy, musical number sort of visions he has when he's still a teenager, but it does better suit the darker things he "sees" as he gets deeper and deeper into the morass of criminal life.

Needless to say, this will not be like "Serpico" or "The Fench Connection" or "Prince of the City" or any of those. It's more like a light-hearted version of "Heart of Darkness". Hm...is that sentence an oxymoron?

Now I'm going out for a nice long walk to clear my head. Then I have to deal with the mail piled up on my desk. Oh, joy.

So close.....

Expect no coherence. Official Word count is 48,972. Here is what may be the new opening.

-----------------------

It started at 240 Centre Street. Middle of the night. Middle of winter. Middle of everything around me going to hell. Streets empty because it’s so late. Just cars parked along one side near this series of ugly brick buildings going two, three, five, seven stories up. Rickety fire escapes dripping down the front to the tallest one, like a growth, making its arched windows seem to want to hide from it. Stores on the ground floor all closed up and hidden behind rolling security panels. Even across from Police Headquarters, the city’s not safe.

My girl was parked right under one of those fire escapes. The roof down on her Caddy, even though it’s close to snowing. It’s like she wanted me to see her, wanted to make sure I knew I wasn’t alone, or something. Put an ache in my heart to know that she cared so much, especially after all that’d happened.

I shouldn’t of been there. Should’ve just got in that Caddy and let my girl drive me to my mom’s or home or anyplace else but there. And I thought about it for half a second. It’s just, I didn’t realize how bad off I was. Didn’t realize that if I went into HQ, like I always did this time of night, the life I had would end. Completely. Totally. Forever.

But like a robot I started across the street. And HQ -- man, once again its old, baroque, snotty looks seemed to be glaring down at me like I was some piece of trash blowing past in the wind. It takes up the whole block, this thing, with its columns and half-hidden windows and balconies, and the iron railings to hold you back from dropping into the gullies between the narrow sidewalk and basement filth, and the stupid dome on top making it look more like a capitol building than a place too old to work in the modern world. I even heard bats squeaking overhead, invisible in the black, black sky.

It was gonna get decommissioned, later in the year, and it looked it with how unkempt it was. Climbing the steps to the main doors, I had to hold onto the banister and step around crumbled up bags and broken bottles and newspapers flapping against the poles. Seemed like half the lights were either busted or missing, making being there even more treacherous.

It was even older and darker, inside. Lights burned out. Trash on the floors. Shadows everywhere. But there was still this big brusque cop at the reception desk, like always; and like always, he didn’t look up as I entered and said, “ -- Hey, Lenny.” My voice cracked, I could hear it, but Lenny didn’t.

“Lombardini. How ya doin’?” was all he said.

“I -- I been better,” I said, “but thanks. Been a long day. All these lights missin’ -- where’s maintenance?”

Lenny just shrugged and kept working. He had a lamp on his desk so he didn’t need anything more. I just sighed and headed down a corridor, aiming for the locker room.

I swear to you, to this day, that corridor seemed to grow longer and darker as I went. And there were these shuffling sounds, fresh and new, coming from everywhere. My breathing quickened. My eyes darted about, wary. Why were so many fixtures missing light bulbs, completely? That didn’t make sense, unless they’d been removed, deliberately. Make it harder to see into the darkness. Into the shadows. Perfect for an ambush.

I hesitated. Checked my pistol. Undid the safety harness then peeked around the door to the lockers. It was dark and empty and so quiet, even my breathing seemed to echo.

I started to shake. I’d been doing that a lot, lately, once I’d realized what I’d got myself into. Then I carefully slipped past the aisles and aisles of lockers, creeping closer and closer to mine. I saw nothing. No one. Just shadows filling the room.

I was sweating now, even though the building was cold. I finally reached my locker, leaned against it and looked down, and even though my hand was shaking, I could see this thin trail of blood whisper over it.

Aw, no -- no -- I’d been shot? I’d been hit?

I almost fainted but cught myself by slamming my head against the locker. Twice. Three times. Back in control, I fumbled with the lock, smearing blood on it before I was able to open the door.

I heard that shuffling sound, again, and froze to listen. Nothing but silence.

I pulled off my coat. My shirt was soaked with sweat -- and blood. I wiped my face. Blood smeared over it.

I heard the shuffling sound, again. Closer. I started to quake, inside.

“Bobby?” I called. “Bobby, that you?”

A whisper of a sound came from my right. I turned to find a gunman standing at the end of the lockers, raising a pistol!

Everything shifted into slow-motion as I yanked out my service revolver, dropped to one knee and fired at him.

My first shot hit his left knee. The second ripped through his thigh. Two more hit an arm and a shoulder.

He got a couple of shots off at me and I think one clipped my arm, but then he crashed against the wall and landed in a sitting position, his leg twisted under him.

I rose slowly, in complete disbelief, and inched up to the guy, pistol ready but shaking in my bloody hands. Barely under control. I heard voices and footsteps approaching.

The guy lifted his gun, unsteady.

I fired, again! Hit him in the forehead. The bullet exploded through his skull.

Blood splattered over me. Covered me. I collapsed, about ready to pass out -- and then I saw it. I saw the gunman’s gold shield. He was a cop. A detective! I’d shot a cop in police headquarters!

“Man, was there gonna be hell to pay for that,” I thought as I quietly drifted into darkness.

Twilight of the maniac

I actually am closing in on the final number of words needed to achieve NaNoWriMo Achievement Status, even though they're not in enough order to make a sensible story, yet. And I have a whole subplot to add concerning Vinnie's attitudes about getting along...and cheating on his wife...though to be honest I'm not sure that part'll be needed or even warranted, yet. He's not a white knight, not by any stretch of the imagination, but I think his dreams and overall concerns are valid enough to make him sympathetic enough to ride over the less savory parts of his existence. Maybe.

Also, the timeframe is inconsistent...and may need a complete reworking. But I'd say I have 80% of what I need in the story to make it come together, and most of that remaining 20% is just detail work. Well...that or I'm in total denial and this thing is a piece of crap. I won't know until about the third or fourth draft if I can live with it; until then I'll just keep pushing.

I'm working my laptop to death, however. It turned out that I like composing on it and now it's getting cranky. I had Safari open so I can Google up information when I need it, but when I finally stopped on IF and tried to go to my blog to write this, it refused to acknowledge me. I could get into the site but could not type anything. I finally had to shut it down. I hope I haven't put too much of a strain on it, especially since I'll need my laptop in Hong Kong.

As regards my trip there, I have to take back some of the things I said about the place. I had a problem with the hotel and could not get them to reply to me. It turns out some filter in the hosting system for my work e-mail was not letting their responses through, even though they were hitting "reply" to me, and they weren't even notifying me. The manager of the hotel finally called the office and left a message, so I sent them an e-mail using my personal address, and they sent me copies of all the ones they'd sent, which came right through. I was being a dick for no reason. So I apologized and all is well, again.

Lesson learned? If someone you send an e-mail to doesn't respond to your queries, first check your hosting group to see if they're refusing the responses and then make sure you have more than one address with different e-mail systems to see if one is being more difficult than the other. My problem one was Microsoft Outlook. Guess I'll steer clear of that beastie when I get my next computer.

Now my back hurts. Writing this intense ain't for sissies.