the triple whammy

I'm over being sick, if you'd care to know.

Ten days of antibiotics have finally put me to rights.

I'm back at work (both the flying and the godawful café) and am rotten glad of it. Except for the dish-washing part.

But, as you may have noticed, I still haven't been writing.

Why?

Well, I've been focusing on...other stuff.

No, really.

My other writing, for one thing. You know, science fiction? Short stories? That rot? I haven't touched the finished novel yet (you're shocked, I know).

But I've been beating hell out of my short fiction.

I was originally going to scrub the slapdash ending I'd given to "Low Places" and work on another one, but I think I'll let it stand. If it gets rejected by F&SF...then, maybe, I'll do something about it. But I think it's worth sending it in and seeing what the editor thinks.

Hmmm, what was I going to say next? I don't quite remember. I'm celebrating my return to booze, you see. I went without alcohol for two weeks while I was sick, and a further 10 days while I was on antibiotics. Liquor has a way of interfering with the bacteria-killing bad-assitude of amoxicillin, or so I've read. I'm working on a vodka-and-soda, a golden apple, a rum gimlet, and some sacrilegious hodgepodge of blackberry brandy, cherry brandy, blueberry vodka and Midori. My coherency ain't what it should be right now. Bear with me.

I'm also working on a new story, which has already surpassed 14,200 words and, unlike the seven stories preceding it, actually has a plot. "Aptitude" is a soft sci-fi story about a space cadet in over his head on his first posting. I've had immense fun writing it. I get to play in my newborn world with the wildest abandon. Case in point, my premise is that humanity ships its lower-class passengers and bulk-rate cargo to the solar boundaries using humongous, run-down starships, replete with massive internal combustion engines which drive electric motors which, in turn, route power to the thrust-propulsion engines. I've also gotten the chance to speculate on the future of firearms. Apart from such flights of fancy as the Beretta 2513 (or whatever fanciful model year I chose to give it) I've thrown in such doozies as antediluvian 20th-century elephant guns.

Have I mentioned how much I love being a writer?

Them's the writing updates. I'll have to tell you sometime about how I'm doing with Moby-Dick. That's a story in itself (Herman Melville thought whales were fishes, apparently). I finished A Clockwork Orange, and I'll have to mention something about it, too. It's a worthwhile read.

On the aviation front...I have now officially flown into (and out of) an international airport. Ontario International (KONT), Ontario, California. I've flown out of there plenty of times on Southwest jets, but never manually piloted an airplane in there. It's quite the story. Just finding the airport amongst all the SoCal smog was a trick in itself. And I had to make sure not to stray into the path of the Boeing 737 taking off on Runway 26R next to us. Couldn't dawdle about on the taxiways, either.

I'll tell you about it sometime.

I just wanted to let you know that further scribblings might be delayed or postponed during the month of February. It's a big month. The 14th is, as you know, Valentine's Day. That's going to be a big day for Miss H and I. Her birthday also happens to be the 13th. (I know, right? What a coincidence. Makes me feel like a heel. I get away with a girlfriend whose birthday is absurdly easy to remember.) And the 17th is our six-month anniversary. Well, no. "Anniversary" isn't the right word. "Monthiversary" is more like it. (Anybody know the Latin word for "month"? I'll pay you 30 bucks if you can come up with it before February 17.)

But you get the idea. That's a triple whammy. Birthdays, holidays, and monthiversaries. We've cooked up a special celebration day (the 20th, thus far) to avoid the crowds on Valentine's Day weekend, but I'm still planning on doing something special for the actual days-of. Haven't quite figured out what, yet (especially since she'll be starting classes at Riverside Community College on Valentine's Day) but I'll think of something. Wish me luck.

At any rate, the celebrations, salutations, libations, affectations and defibrillations will probably occupy much of my blogging-time for the duration of February's midsection. I'll still find time to write, obviously; it's just that I may let the blog slack off again. If I do, please indulge me. I'll be showering affection on my most marvelous girlfriend, who deserves all the happiness and joy in this world (or any other), not some poor hapless fool like me. I need to show her how much I appreciate her. No offense, but you, my faithful minions, will likely get bumped down to second fiddle during that time. I knew you'd understand.

Okay, so that's where we stand. I hope you have a superb St. Valentine's Day, devoid of massacres, and if you happen to live someplace where the weather is nasty this time of year, I wish you sunny skies and warmer temps posthaste.

That is all. Breckinridge.