writing

All posts tagged writing

Hornet Gyroplane: Still going… Next step willl be the landing gear. I am waiting for some extra cash to place an order at Aircraft Spruce. The Engine, a Rotax 447 is in my storage unit at the airport. That was a major item financially ($2000). Left to do: The tail (Dominator tail), 5 gal. fuel tank, rotor head, rotor blades (another major item). The rest is small potatoes, hardware, aluminum and such. I spent a lot of money traveling this summer, so the gyro was put on hold. We had such a great time though, no regrets! Keeping at it, I will finish it eventually. I give myself a one year deadline, let’s say before the end of the Mayan calender, October or something. I’ve got to fly that thing before the end of the world 😉

Dagny, my 32ft Steel Sailboat: Big disappointment here. Someone stole all the bronze ports on the boat, ten of them, worth thousands of dollars. I was wondering what to do about the whole restoration, but after this unfortunate event, honestly, I have lost hope to ever finish it. Sometimes you have to cut your losses. I have been paying $340 for storage at the marina every month, and that has taken it’s toll. So, the boat has to go. I am not giving up on sailing of course. Remembering the saying “Go small, go now!” I need to be a little more realistic with my boat building ambitions. So, here is my new boat project. It’s only 15ft long, but a strong blue-water design. It also can fit on a trailer or in a shipping container. No marina fees required here! I can also build it at home, instead of driving half an hour to Bradenton..

Lehigh County Long Rifle: Still going as well. It is a small, manageable project. I am only missing a few parts, so it won’t be long before I finish. I actually picked it up again this week for some sanding on the stock. That will be a great looking muzzle-loading gun. Again, I am not sticking to historical correctness, as the next step will be parkerizing the barrel..

That is it for building projects. I have too much to do as it is and need to stop starting too many things at once. I can finish the above three, if I don’t add anything else…

P90X: I have to say, results were great. Then, I slacked off before leaving this summer, and haven’t picked it up again yet. I put back on all the weight I lost during the five weeks I trained. Shame on me. So, another round it is, starting after my parents leave on December 2nd. What people interested in P90X need to realize, is that it is a lifelong commitment, not just a 90-day program. Although you don’t need to train as much as during the first 90 days, a regular exercise plan is a must to keep whatever you gained (or lost 😉 during that time. Otherwise, you will lose it all as I did. At leat, I know I can do it, and how to do it again. I know it works, and that will be a good motivation to start again. I consider doing P90X a great achievement, as it is anything but easy. I failed however to retain my gains, and I need to fix that.

Systema: Same as P90X, I slacked off.. It is like bicycle though, so I certainly haven’t lost it all. The physical aspect, I need to work on of course, and P90X will do that. I also need to go back to class! Teaching will certainly help too. Since I got requests for starting the pro-bono/class promotion study group again, I am thinking of setting it up again a couple times a month or so. Systema is more than something I do, it is now partially something I am. It is hard to explain to someone who isn’t practicing.. So, what don’t you try it? I am sure there is a class nearby where you live, check out Vladimir Vasiliev’s site, and systemasarasota.com for our local class schedule.

Work: I am getting into iPhone application development! Problem is, I need a Mac. It is a good field to get into because the current pool of IOS programmers can’t keep up with demand, and hourly rates soared to $100 to $200 per hour. Who knows how long that will last, but I need to catch that ride before things calm down a bit. I do want to publish my own apps of course, as well as write apps for whomever hires me to do so. Anyone has a great idea and a development/marketing budget?

Other Stuff: I have been pretty active publishing videos on Youtube. I have been on a “disaster preparedness” kick lately, storing food and gathering survival gear.. No, I am not paranoid.. Maybe my brain is telling me something, which it unconsciously computed from world news and personal observations, mainly “things aren’t going better..” So, I am merely following my intuitions and just taking a few basic precautions.. See my above Youtube channel about that.. You might want to do the same.. Overall, I plan on shaking things up a bit in 2012, as I have been a bit sluggish lately, you may have noticed..

Why am I writing about all this? I guess that since the things I like to do might be a bit unusual, I am hoping to provide from mere mild entertainment to useable good advise. I am curious by nature. It has prompted me to learn a lot of things, many useless, some potentially life-saving, and everything in between. I always liked to listen to what other people have to say, because we all have some interesting insights. By writing and making videos, I am giving back the same way I learn. By getting feedback and comments I also learn more about the things I am interested in. It’s an exchange of information. Not to mention metting interesting people with the same interests. Anyway, it’s time better spent than watching fail videos on Youtube.

Private Life: Should remain private.. Though I can say, everything is just dandy 🙂

I wish everyone a good Thanksgiving!

Gil.

I must have been in a dark mood that day…

The church stood proudly on the village plaza, as all respected churches ought to, white, authoritative. One could not pass by without a slight feeling of guilt. It was so basic in form, as to be unmistakable, instigating a sense of duty in some, fear in others, sometimes disdain, but you could not ignore it. It was a pretty church, no-one would deny it, not even Armand, who had but contempt for all religious things. The steeple reached high in the sky, although falling short of a better promise.

Armand couldn’t help it but walk toward the doors, looking straight up. He had always been afraid of heights. Still, he stepped in, looking for the stairs. The steps were dusty, creaking in a way that would have been creepy in any other place and time. The light from the top drew him like a fly to an electric lamp.”Why in hell did I come here” he thought, but kept going.

At the top was a wooden platform where probably priests rang the bells. There were no bells however. What struck Armand was that there were no pigeons either. “Don’t all church steeples have pigeons?” The windows opened through a thick wall. Armand stepped on the ledge, almost standing up in the opening. Surprisingly he did not mind looking down to the busy street below. Everything seemed smaller, as did he, even smaller than the people on the street. Things didn’t seem to matter as much. He felt as though this very moment was supposed to be as it was, and that for him to change it would bring upon the world some terrible catastrophe.

“If I jumped, I wouldn’t die right away” Armand thought, and that realization really surprised him. The fact that stepping off the ledge would not kill him made all the difference. Only hitting the pavement later would end his life.

“I am still alive,” he thought, as he felt the wind accelerating on his face, falling head first to the ground below.

The Moose.

I am not please with this story actually, wrote it a while ago.. It is somewhat funny, so I am posting it anyway..

The moose was looking right at him, he was sure of it. The head of the moose at least, because of course there was no body. “The rest of it could be on the other side of the wall” Armand thought, “what a weird decoration for a restaurant.” Would he move to another table, he knew the moose would still be looking at him.

– “Good afternoon Sir, my name is Sherry, what can I get you?”

The waitress was in her mid forties, kind of pretty, Armand decided, but she seemed to be missing something that at least forty years should provide to anyone, he could not quite put his finger on it.
She wore a white apron, had brown hair and a thin long nose you couldn’t hep but notice.

– “Do you serve moose here?”

– “I beg your pardon Sir?”

– “Just kidding, never mind. Do you have a filet mignon?”

– “You’re not from here are you?”

– “I’m from Alabama.” Armand said, with his French accent and a smile.

– “Are you making fun of me?”

Armand realized that if moose wasn’t on the menu, neither was humour…

– “Oh no, sorry, it’s just that moose.” he said, then thought “Oh shit, did I just say that?”

Sherry looked at him for a few seconds like a chicken looks at a computer, then turned around and yelled:

– “Frank!”

When Frank opened the kitchen door, Armand’s first thought was “He killed that moose,” immediately followed by “What’s gonna happen to me?” Frank was an imposing figure, in a redneckish kind of way. Six foot tall, slightly under three hundred pounds, with a large belly and a handle bar mustache.

– “What’s the problem here?”

– “He makes fun of me and the moose, and then he lies about where he’s from.”

– “We don’t like strangers here. You see that man eating over there? That’s Sheriff Morley. Now, either you order and eat quietly or leave, otherwise I will let him handle the situation.”

Sherriff Morley looked like anything but a sherriff. He was skinny and short, but with a hard face, as if his previous carreer had been of a sea captain on an old schooner. Even the Colt Peacemaker on his side looked too big for his hips.
The music from “The Twilight Zone” popped in Armand’s head. He looked at the sherriff, and to his horror, Morley was looking at him, finally put his fork down, wiped his mouth with his napkin, and looked at Frank.

– “Problem Frank?”

– “We just have a funny stranger here Jim.”

Jim got up, adjusted his gun belt, and crossed the room as if he was three times his size, which would have been comical in any other situation.

– “Sir, is this your car outside with the Florida plate?”

– “Huh, yes. There is no problem really, I just want to eat something.”

– “Where are you from, and what are you doing in Greenhorn Gulch?”

– “I’m on vacation, I’m French.”

Armand would have liked to know which of these answers was the wrong one, maybe both, because he didn’t even see Morley grab his handcuffs before he heard them click on his wrists.

– “Hey! What are you doing?”

– “Don’t make any trouble now, or I’ll charge you with resisting arrest.”

Armand looked at the moose, now it seemed like it had a smirk on his stuffed face.
He knew there was no use in saying anything else.

The GreenHorn Gulch prison looked right out of a western ghost town. There was only one cell, with four bunks, and one toilet you had to use in front of whomever was there. A man seemingly in his forties, although he was probably ten years younger (crack, Armand thought) was sitting on one bunk.

– “I want a lawyer!”

The Sherriff smiled. The man looked at Armand: “Y’r not from here, are ya?”

Albert slammed on his brakes to avoid rear-ending the bus in front of him.
– “Are you crazy! You could have killed me!”
The client sat back again, pale as an aspirin tablet. “There goes my tip” Thought Albert. He was thinking about Lila. They had met in his cab and it was love at first sight. She had black hair, surrounding a very pretty face, full of joy. How their relationship deteriorated so quickly, he wasn’t quite sure.
– “Hey! You passed it! Damn it!”
– “Seventeen fifty please.”
– “Here, and I want the change back!”
– “Sure, have a nice day too.”
The man said something Albert couldn’t hear, but he had a pretty good idea about what he meant by the way he slammed the door. It was time to call it a day.. Actually a night, as it was six in the morning. Six years of college to end up driving a taxi, “what an accomplishment” thought Albert. And now Lila was gone…
Albert picked-up the newspaper on the ground in front of his apartment and unlocked the door. It was the first time he had locked it since moving in with Lila. Just by looking at the outside, one could safely assume that nothing valuable was there to be stolen.
The yellow walls were ironically the same color as Albert’s cab, with the same wear, and stains that were not rust but humidity; the sweating of the walls trying to hold the whole place up.
After throwing the paper on a pile of what looked like two weeks of news, Albert put some grits on the stove and sat at the lone table, staring at the floor on his right. Lila had never liked the apartment and had reminded him of it quite often. He didn’t like it either, but that was all they could afford on one salary. That stupid argument the night before, he could not even remember how it started.
The timer’s buzzer went off. Albert grabbed a glass bowl and poured the grits inside. Now he was wondering where he might rent a wood chipper, looking at Lila’s body on the floor. “What happened to us?” he thought, and started eating the grits.