A Perpetual Blinding Bluebird Sky
Chaos, for those unfamiliar there is no life like it. From the transition of Commander of an airliner to parent and husband, mountain days in Japan to housework, the challenge never relents.
It’s the boredom—that which inspires creation—that I’m missing. The endless dusk under a synthetic sky, in a crawlspace just under five feet tall, allowed for the creation of John Woo, Dallas Ward, Orlando Ortega, and their fictional histories from an envisioned future.
For the longest time, I couldn’t understand how people could write in coffee shops—the noise and distractions at maximum levels. It remains a mystery to me.
This world contains distractions I hadn’t even been aware of until several major life events. Moving to Hong Kong, where the endless cement drill braaaaaaa marks the passing minutes in your day—those were days before I was writing, but the model applies.
There is an energy to this planet, to our twenty-four-hour cycle. We were born into it, evolved along with it. There is peace during the early hours—the planet itself, along with (most of) its beautiful life, waking from a time of rest.
Step outside at dawn. Go for a surf before the sun rises. The energy of the world has not reached you yet. But it’s coming. And I find that once the pulsing beat of the local populace has woken, its buzz is difficult to ignore.
Like the constant buzz of your phone, the world interrupts—as it only knows how.
Where does this leave me? Stuck. My wife is pregnant (!!!) with number two, Declan (number one) is a whirling dervish intent on absorbing the planet’s daily energies and deploying them in an attempt to destroy the house/wound his parents with his unique
ability to throw heavy metal objects such as Hot Wheels with surprising accuracy at our heads/and generally Hulk Smash the world around him. Currently they are both sick with a flu (assuming Covid) which I expect to contract (as is the usual way of things) last of the three of us, which should nicely coincide with my line check. Oh did I forget to mention I’m in the middle of a difficult (made actually difficult by the lack of free time I have as a result of the preceding comments) job transition whereby I operate the exact same machinery, to destinations I have largely already been to, using a completely different method. It’s odd, but it’s their way. One could argue that the new job is using far outdated procedures, which could lead to a less safe environment, going directly against the “code,” but then, that could be someone else’s opinion. I do have a habit of reiterating things I’ve heard on this blog. I’m enjoying the change, the challenge of regressing to less modern procedures is proving much harder than I thought, but I thrive on challenge, or at least I used to when I didn't have a two-year old, a sick and pregnant wife, and an age of 53 years. Now it’s just hard work that will pay off and I will enjoy that moment.
Writing.
The real world continues to catch up with my ideas. My president Cook who took office eighty years from now and completed the Wall is in office! Next he’ll be retreating the military behind those walls and closing off trade with the world. I have been saying since I wrote the outline (in 2020) that this book has an expiry date, and I best get moving. Training should be complete mid-April and from there let’s go!
I miss writing, specifically this book, as it deals with real world and current events. What would you do with a Super-intelligent Artificial Intelligence that was happy to have a normal conversation with you? What if your grandfather with unlimited resources was attempting to track you down so that he could use your knowledge of genetic editing to somehow gain an advantage for his government? It’s an exciting thriller set in the months following The Sequence, it’s titled False Ignition, and it’s going to be a blast to read.
My final flight with Sunwing
It could not have been scripted any better. Aiden, Mae, Kory, Dima and Nigel, a crew I have known and worked with for many years.
