There has been a dearth of blog entries on my part, but no dearth of writing. And there has been no shortage of momentous events, some jubilant, some catastrophically dark. So it goes. As Kurt Vonnegut had Dr. Swain say: "Hi Ho." Not nis best novel, even by his own reckoning, but I love the Hi Ho bit. And like Vonnegut, in my blog I can and will write anything I damn well please. So, a preemptive warning: What follows may piss you off. If it does, tough shit. "Hi Ho!" I'm not in a mood to play nice.
And only a few more folks ahead of us. This was the line to get a ticket to go upstairs to sit and wait in line for an interview with the real Bureaucrats, the ones that mattered.
Sick, out of sorts, and trying to be patient: sure, that's a good combination. Hi Ho. With our stack of documents cradled in our arms, we rushed to the magistrate on the first business day after our wedding. It was a Monday, cold and sunny. Waiting, waiting again, then into the office for paper sorting, finger print scanning, and fee paying. Shortly after lunchtime, we emerged with a partial application and a request for three more documents, documents that were listed nowhere on the website or the printed instructions. Breathe in, breathe out. Hi Ho.
The problem is that there is a large ticking clock in the background. Can you hear it? It's like the giant crocodile hunting Captain Hook. Tick Tock, Tick Tock. I am back in Austria on a 90-day tourist visa, my "D" visa having expired at the end of August. So, ninety days from my arrival, I have to leave Austria. Not only do I have to leave Austria, I have to leave all Schengen countries as well. That is, of course, unless, of course, our friends at MA35, the Magistrate, approve my residency title. (How many fragments can be smashed into a single sentence? Writer Joke. Sorry.) Then I can stay. Simple, no?
So My One and I get busy. We contact people, collect the requested documents, print them, copy them, and ready the forms for submission. By Wednesday evening, everything is ready. Thursday morning, flying solo, I'm back on the U6 riding all the way across Vienna. My Mission: Get past the gatekeeper and hand these document directly to the person working on our case. My One says I don't stand a chance.
Step One: Get a number to queue up for the run at the Gatekeeper. Use this time to practice game faces. Game face One: Lost Puppy Look. Game face Two: Overly Earnest and Concerned Idiot. Practice alternating between the two game faces without appearing to do so. Ready, set....
I am at the window and the only thing the Gatekeeper wants is to get rid of me and move the queue along. She looks at the documents and the cover letter. "Yes, I see. Well, I will give these documents to my colleague." Remember, this is all happening in German. Game face One, STAT!! Do NOT leave the window! Puppy Dog - Puppy Dog - Puppy Dog!!! Okay, Switch to Game face Two: "Ich habe angst uber diese Dokuments." I have fear (distress) about these documents. Yeah, that was me, in Deutsch! Pretty good, too! You should have seen the annoyingly earnest look I had plastered on my face. Deeply troubled but idiotically vacant eyes, pleading for some respite. I was just about to switch back to Game Face One when the young woman got tired of my antics and returned the documents with a new waiting ticket for upstairs. Ha Ha! Victory is Mine!! I get to wait in the Big Line!!
Upstairs, at the original office, the documents were eventually handed off in person. I sat at that woman's desk while she double-checked the documents, noted the documents, and told me three times that documents were in order. Finally, on the third assurance, I reluctantly stood up from the desk.
We have done what we can do. Seventy days from today, if I don't have a Title, I will be retreating to another locale. Croatia might be nice. I hear that Zagreb is a fine town in January.
Okay, so by now, I've become really sick and, of course, My One is sick as well. This is the time that the Chicago Cubs, the team that broke my heart as a child, as an adolescent, and as an adult, choose to make it to the World Series!! That, in and of itself, is unbelievable. More unbelievable still, I am unable to watch a single game of the series. Between the time difference, lack of viewing options, and being now seriously ill, I miss every game. I did not watch a single game of the entire goofy let's-push-it-to-the-last-game World Series.
I suck. And I had RP McMurphy's words pounding in my head, telling me that even in jail, man, even in the joint they let us watch the World Series. I mean, you're talking about the World Series here. They woulda had a riot on their hands. But I didn't watch it and I suck and the Cubs will probably never win again and it will all be my fault.
What happened next was self-inflicted. Mea Culpa. A writer friend of mine dared me to take up the National Write a Novel challenge. The task is to write a new novel, from scratch, in the month of November. Sure, what could go wrong. Fifty thousand usable words of prose by the end of the month. And, idiot me, I missed a day. Now, eleven days later, I have over 29,000 words of a brand new novel logged into my laptop. While I was seriously ill. I'm telling you, don't try this at home Kids. And no, in case you are wondering, this new novel has nothing to do with my previous novel, Serial-Z. I'm just using Serial-Z as my pen name. Putting it in perspective for a reader, a 3000 word chapter takes about eight hours to write, if I am on my game and the words are flowing. That doesn't count time for actually inventing the story, characters, plot line, etc, etc.
My proof reading team members (You guys Rock So MUCH!!!!) are chasing me as fast as I can write, waving corrections at me. Besides being an ace proofreader, My Heart has been supportive and understanding in the face of my writing obsession. I'm a lucky man. By the end of the month, I will have written a second novel. For me, that is a good thing.
But...
But none of this really matters, does it? I mean, who cares if I get married to the most amazing woman on the planet, write a novel or two, or get kicked out of the Austria. In s single month, the Cubs won the World Series and Trump won the Electoral College Lottery in the USA (sort of). That means that the world is going to come to an end and no one will read my novels because, duh! the world will have ended. If I wrote this crap into a novel, no one would believe it.
Okay, speaking of which... People of the Untied States of America: Have you lost your collective minds? Really? A reality talk-show host, narcissist, racist, inciter of violence? That is the best that our collective American will could conjure up? Fear, hatred, brute force, divisiveness? This is what we chose to lead our nation? More guns, more walls, more fear, is that going to make America great?
So, it won't matter if I write books. Books have become superfluous. Ideas seem to diminish in meaning as the world is bombarded with lies and hatred spewed from the mouths of the collective Down-Pressor Man. By all that could be considered holy, we need to wake the fuck up! Just because some clown says a thing Three Times (it's the magic manipulation number), that doesn't mean the thing is the truth. Well, good luck to all of us, all over the world, because we are going to need a lot more than luck to survive this catastrophe. Maybe, just maybe, four years of Trump's vitriol will galvanize some of us into fighting for real change, real election reform, real reform of the lobbyists and corporate interests that are running America. Not long ago, Jimmy Carter had the courage to say that the Untied States of America is no longer a democracy, but rather an oligarchy. I agree with him. Here's a link to one of those articles.
Carter Link - UK Mail
An Oligarchy, as you remember from civics class, is the rule of the many (us) by the few (those with money and, hence, power). It is NOT a good thing. Democracy is the rule of the many (us). We must wrest our very ailing shreds of democracy back from the monied powers that are currently holding it hostage. It may already be too late, but we have to give it another go, don't you think?
I don't want to live in fear, so I don't. When I hear dangerous minds preaching the gospel of fear to others, I hear those words for what they are: Lies. Fear is never the answer, fear causes the problem. My neighbors are not my enemies, be they Black, Brown, White, Woman, Man, Gay, Straight, Muslim or even Hard-Shell Baptist. They are not my enemies. They are simply my neighbors, here in Vienna, in America, in SE Asia, in Mexico, Panama, Colombia, Ecuador and Canada. Those hard working folks in India and Sri Lanka, they are me neighbors as well. All over the globe, all of those people, they are my neighbors. They do not scare me. I am not afraid of them.
The Enemy, the darkness that extinguishes the light, is the person who stands in front of a crowd, any crowd, anywhere, and espouses hatred, espouses violence, or sows the seeds of fear into the hearts of those listening. The Fascists have always risen to power on their ability to sell the idea of fear of the Other. Allow me to reiterate that statement, just to be clear about this point. The Fascists rise to power by selling the idea of fear. They will tell you that you should be afraid of your neighbors, of anyone that is different from you, of anyone with any ideas other than your own. By selling you fear, they attempt to divide and conquer. Do not listen to the voice of fear, it will enslave us.
So, I urge you, man the barricades, raise the call, donate, get active, do what you can, but Fight the Power. The Down-Pressor Man is laughing today, and it is not a pretty sound. Push back, it is all we can do.
Lastly, Leonard Cohen died today. Another strong voice silenced, yet another strong voice that lives on. I will leave you with his words, so much more powerful than mine.
Anthem by Leonard Cohen
Okay, i lied. This first part is pretty nice. My Heart and I returned from Thailand six days prior to our scheduled "Second" wedding, the official Austrian wedding, the ceremony that binds us together in the sight of the law. Serious stuff. Food was ordered, last minute crises averted, and sickness overcome. (I almost lapsed into The Big Lebowski's What makes a Man shtick. Oh, screw it... "Funny, I can look back on a life of achievement, on challenges met, competitors bested, obstacles overcome." Okay, whew, I feel better now.
The ceremony came off without a hitch and at the end of it we most certainly were hitched.
Our officiant did her best to interject romance and sentiment into what is basically a civil ceremony and she did a fine job.
Our little wedding party retreated to the quieter warrens of Vienna for a private dinner at a local Trattoria. We were welcomed, then showered with food, drink and congratulations. All was well.
Backtracking in time: I am standing on the Jetway getting off the plane in Vienna. Next to me, a large woman is coughing and sneezing in all directions at once, without the benefit of a hand over her mouth. Picture Linda Blair from The Exorcist, except with a stream of biotic nasties instead of that, um, other stuff she was spewing out. Three days later, just before the wedding, I felt the twinges, that about-to-be-bad feeling in the back of my throat. The day after our O-fficial wedding, it struck. Racing through time to the present: I am just getting over this monster head cold, which has made everything else over the last two weeks that much weirder.
Welcome to Austrian Bureaucracy. It's a lot like the American version of same, but in a different language. And see there on the ticket, they write the dates funny over here.
And only a few more folks ahead of us. This was the line to get a ticket to go upstairs to sit and wait in line for an interview with the real Bureaucrats, the ones that mattered.
Sick, out of sorts, and trying to be patient: sure, that's a good combination. Hi Ho. With our stack of documents cradled in our arms, we rushed to the magistrate on the first business day after our wedding. It was a Monday, cold and sunny. Waiting, waiting again, then into the office for paper sorting, finger print scanning, and fee paying. Shortly after lunchtime, we emerged with a partial application and a request for three more documents, documents that were listed nowhere on the website or the printed instructions. Breathe in, breathe out. Hi Ho.
The problem is that there is a large ticking clock in the background. Can you hear it? It's like the giant crocodile hunting Captain Hook. Tick Tock, Tick Tock. I am back in Austria on a 90-day tourist visa, my "D" visa having expired at the end of August. So, ninety days from my arrival, I have to leave Austria. Not only do I have to leave Austria, I have to leave all Schengen countries as well. That is, of course, unless, of course, our friends at MA35, the Magistrate, approve my residency title. (How many fragments can be smashed into a single sentence? Writer Joke. Sorry.) Then I can stay. Simple, no?
So My One and I get busy. We contact people, collect the requested documents, print them, copy them, and ready the forms for submission. By Wednesday evening, everything is ready. Thursday morning, flying solo, I'm back on the U6 riding all the way across Vienna. My Mission: Get past the gatekeeper and hand these document directly to the person working on our case. My One says I don't stand a chance.
Step One: Get a number to queue up for the run at the Gatekeeper. Use this time to practice game faces. Game face One: Lost Puppy Look. Game face Two: Overly Earnest and Concerned Idiot. Practice alternating between the two game faces without appearing to do so. Ready, set....
I am at the window and the only thing the Gatekeeper wants is to get rid of me and move the queue along. She looks at the documents and the cover letter. "Yes, I see. Well, I will give these documents to my colleague." Remember, this is all happening in German. Game face One, STAT!! Do NOT leave the window! Puppy Dog - Puppy Dog - Puppy Dog!!! Okay, Switch to Game face Two: "Ich habe angst uber diese Dokuments." I have fear (distress) about these documents. Yeah, that was me, in Deutsch! Pretty good, too! You should have seen the annoyingly earnest look I had plastered on my face. Deeply troubled but idiotically vacant eyes, pleading for some respite. I was just about to switch back to Game Face One when the young woman got tired of my antics and returned the documents with a new waiting ticket for upstairs. Ha Ha! Victory is Mine!! I get to wait in the Big Line!!
Upstairs, at the original office, the documents were eventually handed off in person. I sat at that woman's desk while she double-checked the documents, noted the documents, and told me three times that documents were in order. Finally, on the third assurance, I reluctantly stood up from the desk.
We have done what we can do. Seventy days from today, if I don't have a Title, I will be retreating to another locale. Croatia might be nice. I hear that Zagreb is a fine town in January.
I suck. And I had RP McMurphy's words pounding in my head, telling me that even in jail, man, even in the joint they let us watch the World Series. I mean, you're talking about the World Series here. They woulda had a riot on their hands. But I didn't watch it and I suck and the Cubs will probably never win again and it will all be my fault.
What happened next was self-inflicted. Mea Culpa. A writer friend of mine dared me to take up the National Write a Novel challenge. The task is to write a new novel, from scratch, in the month of November. Sure, what could go wrong. Fifty thousand usable words of prose by the end of the month. And, idiot me, I missed a day. Now, eleven days later, I have over 29,000 words of a brand new novel logged into my laptop. While I was seriously ill. I'm telling you, don't try this at home Kids. And no, in case you are wondering, this new novel has nothing to do with my previous novel, Serial-Z. I'm just using Serial-Z as my pen name. Putting it in perspective for a reader, a 3000 word chapter takes about eight hours to write, if I am on my game and the words are flowing. That doesn't count time for actually inventing the story, characters, plot line, etc, etc.
My proof reading team members (You guys Rock So MUCH!!!!) are chasing me as fast as I can write, waving corrections at me. Besides being an ace proofreader, My Heart has been supportive and understanding in the face of my writing obsession. I'm a lucky man. By the end of the month, I will have written a second novel. For me, that is a good thing.
But...
Good Going, you poor deluded maniacs.
Okay, speaking of which... People of the Untied States of America: Have you lost your collective minds? Really? A reality talk-show host, narcissist, racist, inciter of violence? That is the best that our collective American will could conjure up? Fear, hatred, brute force, divisiveness? This is what we chose to lead our nation? More guns, more walls, more fear, is that going to make America great?
So, it won't matter if I write books. Books have become superfluous. Ideas seem to diminish in meaning as the world is bombarded with lies and hatred spewed from the mouths of the collective Down-Pressor Man. By all that could be considered holy, we need to wake the fuck up! Just because some clown says a thing Three Times (it's the magic manipulation number), that doesn't mean the thing is the truth. Well, good luck to all of us, all over the world, because we are going to need a lot more than luck to survive this catastrophe. Maybe, just maybe, four years of Trump's vitriol will galvanize some of us into fighting for real change, real election reform, real reform of the lobbyists and corporate interests that are running America. Not long ago, Jimmy Carter had the courage to say that the Untied States of America is no longer a democracy, but rather an oligarchy. I agree with him. Here's a link to one of those articles.
Carter Link - UK Mail
An Oligarchy, as you remember from civics class, is the rule of the many (us) by the few (those with money and, hence, power). It is NOT a good thing. Democracy is the rule of the many (us). We must wrest our very ailing shreds of democracy back from the monied powers that are currently holding it hostage. It may already be too late, but we have to give it another go, don't you think?
I don't want to live in fear, so I don't. When I hear dangerous minds preaching the gospel of fear to others, I hear those words for what they are: Lies. Fear is never the answer, fear causes the problem. My neighbors are not my enemies, be they Black, Brown, White, Woman, Man, Gay, Straight, Muslim or even Hard-Shell Baptist. They are not my enemies. They are simply my neighbors, here in Vienna, in America, in SE Asia, in Mexico, Panama, Colombia, Ecuador and Canada. Those hard working folks in India and Sri Lanka, they are me neighbors as well. All over the globe, all of those people, they are my neighbors. They do not scare me. I am not afraid of them.
The Enemy, the darkness that extinguishes the light, is the person who stands in front of a crowd, any crowd, anywhere, and espouses hatred, espouses violence, or sows the seeds of fear into the hearts of those listening. The Fascists have always risen to power on their ability to sell the idea of fear of the Other. Allow me to reiterate that statement, just to be clear about this point. The Fascists rise to power by selling the idea of fear. They will tell you that you should be afraid of your neighbors, of anyone that is different from you, of anyone with any ideas other than your own. By selling you fear, they attempt to divide and conquer. Do not listen to the voice of fear, it will enslave us.
So, I urge you, man the barricades, raise the call, donate, get active, do what you can, but Fight the Power. The Down-Pressor Man is laughing today, and it is not a pretty sound. Push back, it is all we can do.
Lastly, Leonard Cohen died today. Another strong voice silenced, yet another strong voice that lives on. I will leave you with his words, so much more powerful than mine.
Anthem by Leonard Cohen
The birds they sang at the break of day
Start again I heard them say
Don’t dwell on what has passed away
or what is yet to be.
Start again I heard them say
Don’t dwell on what has passed away
or what is yet to be.
Ah the wars they will be fought again
The holy dove she will be caught again
bought and sold and bought again
the dove is never free.
The holy dove she will be caught again
bought and sold and bought again
the dove is never free.
Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack in everything
That’s how the light gets in.
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack in everything
That’s how the light gets in.
We asked for signs the signs were sent:
the birth betrayed the marriage spent
Yeah the widowhood of every government –
signs for all to see.
the birth betrayed the marriage spent
Yeah the widowhood of every government –
signs for all to see.
I can’t run no more with that lawless crowd
while the killers in high places say their prayers out loud.
But they’ve summoned, they’ve summoned up a thundercloud
and they’re going to hear from me.
while the killers in high places say their prayers out loud.
But they’ve summoned, they’ve summoned up a thundercloud
and they’re going to hear from me.
Ring the bells that still can ring …
You can add up the parts but you won’t have the sum
You can strike up the march, there is no drum
Every heart, every heart to love will come
but like a refugee.
You can strike up the march, there is no drum
Every heart, every heart to love will come
but like a refugee.
Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack, a crack in everything
That’s how the light gets in.
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack, a crack in everything
That’s how the light gets in.
