I was touring the plethora of writing tasks on my plate right now and came across some items whose age demeans their applicability. In fact, some are humorous in retrospect. Without further explanation or context, I offer this view of the many never-saw-the-light-of-day projects on my plate. Note that I did not clean them up, add links to references from previous posts, or anything else; I’m posting exactly what is in the drafts at this time.
The FMA, Christians, and everyone else
When Congress began deliberations of the Federal Marriage Amendment (FMA) or whatever it was called, the move reeked of constituency pandering. No one can doubt that is precisely what it was. No chance was available for this federal shame to succeed. A majority of Americans were against it while a majority also cringed at the thought of allowing gay marriage. This draft is from a post to be called “The FMA, Christians, and everyone else” that I began months ago yet never completed, eventually deciding it would do no good and was horribly out of date.
A conversation with Farjad’s family
This draft is from a post that was to be called “A conversation with Farjad’s family” and was started almost two weeks after I spoke with Doha following the Israeli attacks that killed two members of the family and wounded three others. She called me again to let me know things were better. They were getting help, financial assistance, shelter, food, medical care, and so on, and it struck me as entirely ironic where all that help was coming from. It wasn’t the UN, Israel, America, or anyone else in the West, and that despite our having witnessed the total devastation visited upon the Lebanese people and their country. I found it shameful, but eventually I was uncertain as to whether this would result in more accusations of me being anti-Israel and pro-terrorism. Nothing could be further from the truth, mind you, but I’ve been more sensitive to the personal attacks over the last few months as they’ve increased (and not just regarding the Israel/Hezb’Allah conflict). I keep much of that flaming off of the site; that does not spare me from having to deal with it, though.
Anyway, this is part of my phone conversation with her. It is only a small portion of the call.
Unraveled morning
The following is a draft I began over a year ago while I was still employed. I sadly forgot about it until I recently stumbled upon it again while going through all of the various writing projects languishing in digital limbo. I think it speaks for itself. It’s one of those regrettable mornings I think we all have at some time or another.
Catch as catch can
How out of date does this seem? My opinion? A lot. I was pondering the enigma that was Vazra—that is, the Vazra from a long time ago. I was contemplating precisely how one might go about catching him considering . . .
Well, anyway, here’s the draft. If you have a sense of temporal placement with regards to my blog posts, you can probably affix a date to this oldie with very little problem.
Where were you?
I’ve struggled over whether I should even post this or not. I’ve really been torn for the last month between not posting it and letting it rip with full force. Jenny even warned me many times not to “take the bait if it’s dangled again.” Despite her wise counsel, my growing anger has overridden my common sense (or, perhaps, kicked it in the ass so it would act). In either case, I’m going to respond publicly because I owe it to Derek to make sure his legacy isn’t tainted by such selfish small-mindedness and malfeasance.
I want one for Christmas
I started writing this in February 2005. It was one of those things that sounded good when I sat down to do it. Later, when I came back to it, I’d lost interest in completing it. It’s languished in unfinished form since then. It was going to be called “I want one for Christmas” and has nothing to do with food or drink.
Remember September 11
As is the case with most of my writing, a tiny bit of mundane stimulus is all it takes to push me into a creative mood. Hell, Darkness Comes to Kingswell was inspired by watching the approach of a thunderstorm. I don’t need cataclysmic events to spawn a creative streak. This is proof.
I began writing this on March 12, 2005. It seemed important at the time. It seemed to grow from a simple observation into something more, but I rapidly lost interest once the original thought was out of me.
What I felt when I started this was quite real, quite tangible. Unfortunately, that feeling died the moment I stepped away from what I was writing. I can’t tell you how often that happens. I’m better with fiction than reality in that sense.
Afternoon with Rick
I won’t finish this story but will leave it just as I left it when I first jotted down these thoughts.
But it would never be
I began writing this in March 2006. What you see below represents the finality of what developed before it fell away and suffered a loss of focus. I wish I could tell you where it wished to go, what path it felt destined to follow. But I cannot. I do know it grew from an allegory, a metaphor wishing to convey something . . . something I can no longer remember. Shameful, I know.
It never had a proper title so I have given it one that fits what little exists.
