I love a picnic. The cheesey checkered blanket. Potato salad. Even the ants. What more do you need besides a frizbee and sunshine...? A beautiful woman, I suppose. I was covered on all counts. A good day was predestined.

I was struck by the sunlight through her hair. She looked at me with that look that tells me I am the only man on earth. I leaned in for a kiss and got shoved onto my back for my trouble. Playfully shoved, but shoved still, and unkissed no less. As quickly as I went down, she was on me, giving me the lips I sought with the added bonus of a strawberry. Mmmm. Strawberry kisses. Giggling and tickling would shortly follow.

I lounged for a moment and looked out over the overgrown grass, glowing green in the sun and swaying gently in the breeze. All around us was nothing but peace and light. Suddenly, and without the slightest warning there was a flash on the horizon that caught my eye. For a second I felt the sharp tingle of panic. The hair on my neck stood straight on end.

"Look! What is that flash?" I jumped to my feet as I asked, knowing for certain that it must be a nuclear blast, and we only had mere seconds before we would be swept up in it.

"That's the shuttle blasting off, you weirdo. That's why we're here." She said with a tone that said I must be crazy for thinking otherwise. I glanced in her direction incredulously, and back to the flash... and it was changed.

Now I could see that she is right. There is a space shuttle launch, and what I saw was, in fact, the rocket igniting. I could swear that only a flash had been there before, but there stood a NASA shuttle, slowly jostling it's way skyward. A glance around me also showed that where I just saw naked grass in the breeze there sat hundreds of other watchers, captivated by the launch. I too was overcome with the awe-inspiring scale of it. To think that this hulking beast of human engineering was actually about to pass clean through the pale blue dome that hangs over all out heads, just as likely as a camel could pass through the eye of a needle. I remember thinking that this is something I ccould cross off my List. The List of Things To Do Before You Die that we all have. This one could get a check mark.

Then I thought to myself that we are awfully close to the launch site. What if something went wrong? If it did, we could be killed.

Right then, I heard a lone woman scream, and as though it had heard my thoughts, the engine on the right side exploded in a terrifying and beautiful display of light and smoke, throwing the fuselage into a horrible spin. It's trajectory no longer vertical, the machine whirled around us, making a pattern of perfect concentric circles with the horizon, thousands of feet over our heads... no, not circles. Worse, a lightning quick spiral, slowly closing in over our field full of watchers, slowly dropping in altitude. Then the screaming really picked up and people began running in all directions. I sat dumbstruck, unable to move. If I had been in my right mind I would've have realized that the danger was constantly moving around us, and running in any direction was really a waste of energy, and no safer than staying put. My course was the wiser, but I wouldn't have known the difference. I had all the forethought of the deer in the headlights.

Faster and faster it whirled about, pieces beginning to break free here and there and soaring out of site. Closer and closer it fell towards us all. Still I didn't move, in spite of myself...

A Story To Tell

Not too long ago, my good friend Ryan went out of his way to call me and tell me I needed to be a writer. He was doing some reading on the oral histories and story-tellers and the like that predate modern literature, and his mind began to wander. He started thinking about the best story-tellers he knows in his own life, and immediately thought of me. He decided to urge me to take it more seriously.

Everybody likes a good ego-stroke, once in a while, and I was very flattered. It also came as kind of a surprise. I've always been a "writer" as long as I can remember. Even back as young as eight or nine years old I was already keeping the good ol' fashioned paper journal. I was even published a couple times in the school art/poetry magazines in middle school and high school. It was always something I loved, but I never felt like anyone really took notice of my work. I was always praised for my drawings and paintings, and later acting, but rarely ever did I feel like people thought of me as a writer. I think I let those external perceptions of me color where my focus lead me. I kind followed the accolades basically, like a well-trained seal, I jumped for my fish.

It makes me wish one of two things:

1) I had been more self-aware of the causes of my decisions at a younger age, and more thoughtful about what I really wanted

or

2) The "fish" had been thrown to the writer in me more often.

Anyway, I've been reading a lot of books on writing since that conversation with Ryan, and I've been trying to journal more to generate some ideas. The idea is if I just keep the pen (or the keyboard) moving and filter through all that quantity of words to find out what is important to me, I will find the story that I should be telling.

Tonight, I found it, but I found it in the form of another medium. I saw a chunk of a documentary by Mr ADRIAN GRENIER entitled SHOT IN THE DARK. Suddenly, there it was in front of me. I want to film a documentary. I know it's not writing, strictly speaking, but I will cull and weave together what serves my idea out of hundreds of hours of interviews. The story will be told by everyday people, but guided and shaped and ultimately brought to light by me. I know the exact story too.

The story itself I shall hang onto for the moment. Another bit of advice from the writing books is to not share the story until work is well under way on it. It's some pshychological thing that just telling it sort of lets the air out your sails. But the whole thing is clearly taking shape in my mind. It is a human universal. Everyone can identify with it. It has touched us all, either directly or indirectly, at some point in our lives. It is sad that it is a universal, but it is the world we live in. The world we created for ourselves.

I say honestly, and without arrogance that the idea I have is a great one. At the very least I know it is a topic with great appeal. I only hope I can serve it well. One of the writing books I read mentioned some writers take several months or even years of digging to find their story. After only a couple months of looking, I found one. I am thankful.

More importantly, I'm excited.

Thank you, Mr Grenier.

************************************

Shot in the Dark is a great film, by the way. I highly recommend it. Anyone who has ever had any kind of emotional issues with their dad will identify with Adrian's quest.

Oh, For The Love Of The Flying Spaghetti Monster!

Just when you thought George W. Bush had the title of Worst President Ever locked up tight, he goes and surprises you by doing something like THIS.

I was really beginning to suspect that he couldn't do anything more. I was starting to feel like maybe the depth of my loathing for our leader and all his inbred, close-minded cronies couldn't possibly sink to a new low. It's always right when I have one of those moments that he gets worse. I should really stop giving him so much credit.

In case you're too lazy to take the link. G-Dub has nominated a candidate for surgeon general that has written "scientific" papers denouncing homosexuality. He wrote thinly-veiled hatred and called it science. He is also co-founder of Hope Springs Community Church, which prides itself on its "ex-gay" ministry.

The thing that really worries me is maybe Bush is using an age-old tactic here. He's offering up the most insanely horrible candidate first, so then when there is an uproar about it he can suggest his real choice, who is probably also a dirty, rotten scoundrel, but maybe of a slightly less douche-baggy strain. And we'll all stupidly breath a sigh of relief to get him.

Haha.

Good editorial cartoons are few and far between. This one made me laugh out loud.