Line 'O the day - February 27, 2008

The rules of life change far too often, and with such swiftness that it is nigh impossible to abide by them. So, from here on out playing by the rules is only a distant memory.


Present day note:
There are no rules, at least none that matter. Morality, virtue, love... there are no rules to these endeavors. And if you think there are, you're a fool. I have my fixed star and you have yours, and we navigate by them as best we can.

Redneck boys photo essay 1: Courtesy of Grandma

I requested a picture of me or my brothers on a tractor for the bit a few weeks ago. I get a stack of photos in the mail well after that posted, but I'm one to use the tools in front of me and so the idea for a short photo essay comes to me as I perused the snapshots of my younger days.

This is obviously all three of us with two important things for a country boy to have. A Grandpa and a horse, said grandpa keeps just for you. A note about this moment is that one-year-old Abe does not seem too pleased about being in the saddle with me.

To keep this short I'm going to narrow the focus of the selection to photos relevant to posts I've already put up. Two categories with a picture a piece for the three of us.

I've mentioned they start us learning to work on the farm early. Here is Jake at about two, getting the feel for the old Ford.

Here's me, sporting both the bib-overalls and boots. The levers and heavy machinery there are for a drill, when I was learning how to drill a water well. About four-years-old here.

Another bit of machinery that you ought to know how to run is a planter. Here is Grandpa getting Abe ready to go plant some corn.

We do work a great deal, and begin learning at a young age on how to be of use around the farm, but there is also plenty of leisure activities for young ones on the farm.

We fished quite a bit when we were little. It was one of Gramp's past times for us. This is Jake with what I assume is his first fish.

When you're a boy on the farm and not fishing you might take a goat out for a stroll around the yard. You want to know the most country thing in this pic? It's not the rural setting, the horse in the background, nor the goat on a damn leash. It's the Funk's Seed big G hat on my head, trust me.

And even when you have time off as a redneck boy, the adults tend to keep working. And like Abe here, all you can do is hang-out and watch from afar.

But above all the one thing a country boy needs, as anyone who read Where the Red Fern Grows knows is a hound dog pup.

Grandma sometimes, has issue framing her shots just right. And as a man with a degree in film making it's hard to use such a shot.  But us with our hound pups is about spot on for our childhood, plus Abe's rocking the bibs.

If you notice in the shot with Jake and the fish above, there are dogs in the background. I think my next photo essay will be the unveiling of a whole new level of country, and the role dogs played in my hillbilly upbringing.

Line 'O the day - February 23, 2008

I’m not a wealthy man and I’m no genius, so if I stop trying to hold onto the moral high ground I’m just another dick like everyone else.

Line 'O the day - February 19, 2008

That proposal seems to involve tater tots. So count me out on that shit, before we get too far along to turn back. (Utter.  Fucking.  Nonsense.)


Present day note:
It is nonsense, and I love it. I also actually like tater tots, so I don't know why I'd be against them in whatever fictional scenario was running through my head.

Not some high and mighty garden maze

Everyone, I think, has seen big round hay bales. They tend to range in size from abut five feet to six feet around. Most folk see them along the road as they drive through the countryside. They're an easy way to feed a bunch of cattle for a stretch of time, provided you have a tractor with a hay spike to move them. That's an obvious thing, hay to feed cattle, but to a bunch of redneck kids around the world big round bales are so much more.

One round bale out in the middle of a field ain't much good to a child, but a row of them is a country wonderland. In most cases you line them up in rows in the corner of a pasture or lot. More bales equals more fun. The most obvious thing to do is simply to climb up onto them, not an easy task sometimes for a four or five year old. And then once you've achieved the summit the new challenge is to maneuverer this treacherous landscape. Bales stacked end to end are easy enough to run across, but there are the occasional gaps which have to be vaulted over. The stack is never uniform which means there are always fissures scattered here and there. A mean trick is to assist your younger and much smaller brother up onto the stack and them drop him into one of these five feet deep holes. But you must be careful because all these bales are round and can allow for small crawl spaces along the ground that might lead them to freedom.

This brings up a bit of group fun. When you have these bales in large numbers, dozens and dozens of them all stacked together they create a hell of a hide and seek arena. Nooks and crannies abound. Or a rousing game of tag could be played out on top of the bales; they provide a well defined field of play, and the gaps allow for a cat and mouse aspect that you don't get on say a gym floor. A bonus here is that short of falling completely to the ground below you're not likely to get hurt. The bales are like big round soft pads.

Every summer these hillbilly play lands are built for us country rug-rats and then slowly whittled away as the hay gets fed throughout the winter. But while they last they are a simple pleasure all little ones should get to experience.

Line 'O the day - February 10, 2008

I’m at the end of my rope. And it sort of feels good to know that all that’s left to do is let go and see if I land on my feet. (Surely I’m not original with that one.)

My own private laugh

This is sort of an addendum to the post a few weeks ago regarding my affinity for cussing and using distinctive voice when I write.

See I, like I assume most folks do, have a few different laughs. Like a big boisterous laugh, a sort of giggle, and others. I also have a personal laugh, literally a subdued little laugh I do when I think something and that thought is funny enough to physically laugh. And I'm pretty sure I've never done the laugh in front of other folks.

So what does this have to do with voice? It's situational, the laugh only comes out when I'm alone (or at least out of earshot). Now, in my personal speech I pretty much have one way of talking. For instance, I let loose with the profanity in front of my Grandma the same as I will with friends. But I know the average person has situational awareness in their manner of speaking. And applying that to writing may not show through so much to the audience, but can assist in the writing process a great deal.

Every character should have their own distinctive voice, and assuming I've managed that task in a script or book I start to think about the situational awareness of the characters. This usually comes in when I'm into a 3^rd or later draft, fine tuning as it were. My lead doesn't use the same manner of speaking or set of words when he is talking to the love interest as he does when he's trying to defend himself against his oppressive boss. And understanding that difference changes the dynamic of the characters, both amongst themselves and to the audience.

Like I said I almost never change up the way I speak regardless of the situation. But I was thinking about my coveted personal laugh a couple days ago, and then it's correlation to trying to build in those little touches to give a bit of dialogue something special. And those slight changes in voice for a character may go unnoticed, but can give them and the whole script life.

Line 'O the day - January 19, 2008

It’s a good thing I don’t care. If I did I might be worried.