Tags: lj idol

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LJ Idol Mini-Season A Million

Apparently there's finally a new "mini" season of the "The Real LJ Idol," the writing contest that has now wholly moved off LJ, and calls itself mini presumably solely to prevent me from ever achieving my goal of being the first to have over 200 official entries ;)

On any account I'll be participating and encourage you to as well. It's good for you!

And here's an unrelated photo I took the other day:
Fish

LJ Idol - Wk 8 - Sprezzatura

   James leaned against the railing beside the estate to finish his cigarette. Nearby an obvious papparazzi was awkwardly trying to look like he wasn't waiting around. He was a forgettable sort of ugly with his unkempt hair, untrimmed beard, clashy hawaiian shirt, and obviously overpriced camera with bazooka-like telephoto lens. As he finished the cigarette James couldn't resist remarking to him "the countess isn't even here you know?"
   The papparazzi looked flustered and stammered "wha, wha, what? how do you know?"
   "Oh, I know," responded James with a wink as he turned to walk toward the entrance. He straightened his bow tie as he approached. A burly security guard in a suit with a black tie looked up as he approached the gate.
   "I'm on the list," said James smoothly, and with a motion that appeared to be pointing at a name on the clipboard he actually deftly deposited a hundred dollar bill. He barely broke his stride as he slid smoothly past the guard, who professionally affirmed he was on the list as he pocketed the money.


   Later on, in the ballroom, everything was going according to plan. James had been making eyes with the countess' beautiful daughter, who was key to getting into the plot. He would ask her to dance and slip the tracking device onto her. Their eyes met across the hall and they began to walk towards eachother, people parting between them like the sea. Suddenly a man stumbled backwards right into James.
   "Hey!" exclaimed James, and as the man began to stammer his apologies, James recognized him as the papparazzi, now clad in an ill-fitting tuxedo.
   "How'd YOU get in here?" growled James between clenched teeth.
   "I was on the list" replied the other man with a sheepish grin.
   "Oh lord," breathed James as he rolled his eyes. Did this chump also bribe the security guard? Does the guard have no shame at all?
   "And let me guess you're not a papparazzi?" asked James as he looked up to try to find the countess' daughter but she was no longer where he'd last seen her.
   "I'm a family friend!" said the papparazi in a badly acted attempt at sincerity.
   "No you're not" rejoined James as he deftly fished a small camera out of the papparazis jacket pocket.
   "Hey! That's mi--" the man began to object
   "Look just stay out of trouble and I won't have security throw you out" said James pocketing the camera and moving away back into the crowd to try to find the countess' daughter again.


   Later that night James crept deftly out of the daughter's room well inside the secured part of the chateau and made his way down to the room in the dungeons where the McGuffin device was kept. He expertly disabled the alarm and picked up the small device. As he was hurrying down toward the helipad in an upper hall bathed in moonlight from the row of windows, an alarm began to wail. "oops" he mumbled to himself as he began to run. Suddenly a guard appeared from a doorway ahead, and almost immediately fired a shot at him. The shot missed and shattered a nearby wnidow. James fired back with the small gun he had pulled from inside his jacket, and dove out the window, expertly landing in a hedge below.
   Climbing out of the hedge and dusting the leaves off himself James was gratified to see that across the ornate flowerbeds, fountains and hedge topiaries in the cold moonlight a small catering truck was still on the property and near it stood a janitor who had been pushing a trash bin towards it, still cleaning up after the fancy ball so the property would be pristine in the morning. But in the mean time James had to deal with security. To his left he saw a tall hedge maze and ran into it as uniformed security guards began to run into the garden. In the hedge maze it was a simple matter to hide in the hedge itself in a nook until a security guard came by. Then James clonked him over the head and put his large jacket on over his tuxedo jacket and his distinctive hat on his head. He then exited the hedge maze while shining his newly acquired flashlight around as if he was looking for someone, as he made his way to the catering truck. Despite the ruckus the janitor was still unloading trashcans from the cart onto the truck.
   "Excuse me sir," said James in a tone of brusque authority, "we have a situation here please allow me to search your truck"
   "Yes, of course," said the employee in a tired sounding voice and beckoned James around to the back. James planned to expertly knock the man out as he came around the corner but much to his surprise as he came around to the back of the truck he found himself staring down the long barel of a gun with a silencer and behind it the ugly face of the paparazzi.
   "You??" James couldn't help showing his surprise.
   "Quite." said the man with neither a stammer nor a smirk. James carefully manouvered his gun hand in preparation to shoot this new adversary. Just then the small camera in his pocket exploded with electrical currents, effectively tasering James. As he involuntarily doubled over the other man relieved him of the McGuffin Device and disappeared into the night.




I've had this idea for awhile now, I know the incompetent spy is a well worn cliche but I've had this idea for a novel or movie about a spy who is actually thoroughly competent but instead of being ultra suave like James Bond his cover is to look so un-suave as to not be taken seriously.
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Day Zero

   “There have been several officer-involved shooting incidents in the Los Angeles area in the early hours of this morning, though Police Chief Charlie Beck has issued a statement assuring us that the situations were unrelated and should not be cause for alarm” [click]
   “…and reportedly a fourth incident in Lakewood” [click]
   “…clearly the police are out of control Tom, I think there’s more to the story of this morning’s shootings, and I’m demanding answers…” [click] why is it always talk radio in the mornings?? David wonders. It’s something he had often wondered. The drive to work would be much more peaceful with some good music, rather than jarring banter about the news or latest entertainment gossip.
   He turns off the radio and suffers through the morning rush-hour traffic in silence. It’s going to be another one of those days, he thinks to himself as he finally pulls into the parking structure at work. He walks briskly into the building, emerges from the elevator and enters the offices of the law firm at five to nine. Alyssa, the office manager, pointedly looks at her watch as he walks past. Another day in paradise, he says to himself.

   Ten A.M. at the coffee stand downstairs, the news is on: “…several more shootings reported this morning. This is a bit unusual, even for Los Angeles, here’s what people are saying on twitter…”
   “…well John, I do think there’s something going on here, I’m thinking it might be al-qaeda, or maybe the drug cartels are going to war in LA…”
   It's a bit odd but David doesn't dwell on it, street violence certainly wouldn't be permitted to spill over into the nicer parts of town.

   Around 11:00 David has sorted and delivered the mail, made all requested copies (and collated and sorted, and thought I spent four years in college to do THIS a dozen times), refiled all case files and loose documents that the lawyers are done looking at. He’s swept the floor and collected all the random paperclips. He’s even lined up the pens so they’re all lined up in a row on the table. He sits down to try to think of something else to do, and at that moment Alyssa walks in. She’d be attractive if she weren’t such a bitch – She’s only a few years older than David. Blonde hair in a ponytail, cute black collared shirt and knee-length pin-stripe skirt. With only a brief disapproving glance at David she steams out again.
Though she’s no longer in the room David jumps up and paces around looking for something to busy himself with. Minutes later he receives a call from the temp staffing agency whom he technically works for,
   “Is everything alright, David?”
   “Uh, yeah, why?
   ”Well, we just received a call from the office manager over there, she said you didn’t seem to be working very hard…”

   As the day goes on, the support staff are increasingly speculating about just what IS going on out there. – the lawyers themselves seem oblivious, all too drowned in the pursuit of “billable hours” to notice. While delivering and collecting things from secretaries’ desks, David notes that many of them have the news up on their computer monitors. It’s peculiar news, but it doesn’t make the day go any faster. If anything it makes the day seem even slower, as David becomes impatient to go on lunch and have an opportunity to catch an uninterrupted news report. The clock slowly ticks around to noon.
   Finally it’s twelve and David rushes off downstairs and across the street to the food court. As he wolfs down his thai food he catches snippets from the television despite the crowd around it – “…eyewitnesses report ‘dozens and dozens’ of shots fired…” “…the police department is still saying that there’s no reason to panic, though they have added that people should not travel unnecessarily in Los Angeles today.” “…here’s an interesting new report John, we’re getting reports now of CDC vans – that’s Center for Disease Control – near some of the accident sites.”
   An eyewitness describes how one of the shooting victims was "acting crazy" and kept coming at the cops despite being shot "dozens of times." the news anchors speculate it might be some new drug. Just before the end of lunch there's actually footage from a news helicoptor of someone (their face blurred) walking lurchingly down a street as people run away. A police car peels in and the officer is seen shouting from behind his door, two more squad cars swoop in beside him and the blurred figure starts towards them. You see muzzle flashes from the police's hand guns and the figure doesn't seem to hesitate. The police pour a continuous fusilade of fire on the figure, and though the news has blurred out a wide area around them you can tell there are clouds of blood being knocked off. Finally the figure stumbles to the ground but still appears to be moving. The channel cuts to the anchors again, who seem visibly shaken, at a loss for words for a moment before desperately launching into inane babble.

   David returned to work a bit shaken himself. This was no longer and odd distraction on the news, this was becoming quite concerning. Office staff no longer tried to hide that there were more interested in listening to the news than doing work. A senior lawyer came out and yelled at everyone for not working. David noticed the offices of the firm's partner's were empty. Soon it was in the news that the national guard had been called out, and as columns of humvees moving down the streets were shown on the new, one by one empty chairs started appearing behind desks as secretaries came up with excuses to go home to their families or just plain left.
   By three most of the support staff had disappeared. Unfortunately since David’s immediate supervisor was Alyssa, he knew he was unlikely to get permission to leave early. Finally around three thirty, with nearly no support staff remaining, David was walking past with a box of files when Alyssa emerged from her office looking flustered and distracted.
   “Hey, um, everyone’s going home early today. You can, um, clock out and go home” she said as she locked her office door. David straightened out his work area, grabbed his coffee travel mug, and was out the door. None of the lawyers had moved.

   Overhead dark clouds scudded across the sky on September winds as David entered the parking garage. As he exited, he called his mother and sister, and found out they were home already. He called his girlfriend but she didn’t pick up.
   Unfortunately the drive home was along the 91 freeway, just south of Los Angeles county and jam packed with traffic out of LA on the best of days, and on this day it was barely crawling. David sat in the mired traffic and listened to the radio, no longer noticing that no stations were playing music.
“we’re here in the Channel 7 newscopter over Crenshaw Boulevard and it looks like there’s a general disturbance down there, lots of people running around…” came in amid the background beat of helicopter blades “…there appear to be several people covered in blood and, oh god, one of them has just tackled a woman and … we’ve got her zoomed in on the camera here and she’s struggling, and, I can’t tell but it looks almost like he’s biting her. And now she’s not moving and he’s running again. He’s come up on the cars backed up at the freeway onramp now Ron. He’s trying to pull the driver out of this car it looks like. And someone else just grabbed him from behind to pull him off. Okay now there’s two men trying to hold the crazy one down, he’s gotta be on drugs or something Ron he’s giving them one hell of a time … oh it looks like the woman he attacked earlier is okay, some neighbours are tending to her and it looks like she’s getting up now and… oh my god she just lashed out at them, I don’t believe this Ron. Now they’re running away. She’s running toward the onramp and … okay now people are getting out of their cars and running up the onramp to get away. The men who were trying to subdue the first man are running up the onramp as well, they appear to be bleeding and the first man doesn’t seem to have been slowed down. I don’t believe this Ron, this is madness.”
   David eyed the bumper-to-bumper traffic around him nervously. It was essentially not moving. The people in the other cars were looking around nervously themselves, no doubt listening to the same reports, and having the same thoughts.
   “…there’s a veritable stampede down the highway now, Ron, cars can’t move and people are getting out and running—“
   “—where are the police Jerry can you see any police there?”
“Yes the police have arrived at the base of the intersection but, I think the situation is just getting out of control here Ron, the police are spread too thin. This immediate situation here would take a number of cars to secure the area but, you know, there’s still ongoing situations throughout the city”
   “What about the national guard, have you seen any of them yet?”
   “No Ron, they just got called in an hour or so ago so they’re not suited up and out on the streets yet. Also, Ron, in this case right here the police car can’t drive up the onramp past the abandoned cars either”
   David nervously tapped his fingers on the wheel, and felt sweat trickle down his back despite the car being well-cooled by the AC. He tried calling his girlfriend again but the network was busy.
   “Ron, we’re watching a police officer engage one of these … people. It looks like he just emptied his pistol’s magazine into the man and he’s still coming. Now he’s using the tazer and the crazy is down …. And he’s back up as if nothing happened. Officer is backpedalling quickly. Two more squad cars just got here. Many many shots fired. If you’re broadcasting the live feed from the camera, I’m sorry you’re probably having to blur out a lot of blood. I can’t believe this though. Okay it looks like the man is down.”
   David noticed several cars pulling onto the highway shoulder to try to get ahead, but within minutes that avenue was completely clogged as well. A few motorcycles weaved through the stopped cars. One motorcyclist even looked like he was bleeding on the arm.
   “Oh we’ve got a bad looking situation here Ron, people are stampeding on the 5 north from just north of downtown, and I'm assuming it's the same south of the city, this can’t end well. As you know the highway is raised above the street level here and you can’t easily get off where there isn’t an offramp. I don’t know how this is going to end, there’s people chasing the crowds from both sides. And it looks like a number of elderly or otherwise, a number of people haven’t gotten away in time all along the way and have been attacked. On the city streets the police are forming cordons around places order is breaking down but this situation on the roads Ron…”

   Just then the first runner went past David’s car. He realized his heart was pounding, and at this realization that the events on the radio were catching up to him, he suddenly felt faint. There was the sudden sound of numerous car doors as the people around him started to get out. Almost in a trance he found himself opening his car door to step out. Someone attempting to hurry between cars was stopped by the opening door and cursed angrily at him before squeezing past. He looked in the direction the crowds of people were coming from and could just see an ever increasing crowd coming along. In the air above, a news helicopter passed over, flying low. He grabbed his phone, shut the car door, locking it out of habit, and began jogging in the direction everyone was going.

   As he made his way with the surreal procession of people weaving between cars on the freeway, David’s phone rang, it was his girlfriend Jessie.
   “Jessie! Where are you??”
   “Hey I’m alright, I got down to Travis’s here in Aliso Viejo. You should come down here too it sounds like all hell’s breaking loose in LA right now.” David was relieved to know his girlfriend was with his best friend down in southern Orange County, 30 miles or so south of the LA border.
   “I’m going to meet up with my mom and sister, and then I don’t know what we’ll do. It’s crazy though Jess, I’m currently walking down the freeway!”
   “Oh my god you’re what?? You’re on the freeway?? It’s on the news! The freeways! You need to—“ the line cut out. He tried calling her back but the network was busy again. He began to feel even more uneasy about no longer having the car radio piping breaking news to him.
It would only be a few more miles to his mom’s house. Funny how what takes only a few minutes to drive can suddenly feel so great a distance when you’re on foot. Earlier there had been a few motorcycles weaving between cars but they had all either gotten ahead by now, or perhaps gotten on offramps in search of less congestion on surface streets, or simply become mired in the crowds.
   The crowd here was channeled along the freeway by high walls on either side. Slowly the crowds got thicker as more people moving faster from further back caught up. David and others found themselves inadvertently picking up the pace as they were surrounded by more and more people in a greater hurry. He heard an older woman cry out as someone rudely shoved past her, but the shover didn’t take notice. He passed a woman pulling two small children along by the hand – the children both looked terrified, and were constantly jostled by people hurrying past. A few people were bleeding, and David found himself wondering whether it was from scratches they got in their mad hurry, or actual contact with the berserkers. Every now and then a news helicopter would rumble overhead, and, most alarming of all, gunshots rang out in the distance frequently.

   Quite suddenly people began colliding with those in front of them, forward progress apparently stopped somewhere down the line. Thousands of voices expressed alarm and confusion. People continued to try to jostle their way forward through the crowd. Amid a great amount of shoving, people actually started moving backward, though many stubbornly tried to keep their places. Then the rumours flying around congealed into one statement: “they’re in front of us! Go back! Go back! They’re in front of us!” There was panic and screams. More people were still coming up from behind, and the crowd became more compacted. David climbed on the hood of a car simply for lack of space, but also to see ahead. The crowd was being pushed back for the next several hundred feet ahead, with more and more people clambering on top of cars to get away. Forward of that it looked like a moshpit from a rock concert -- the crowd was a thrashing turbulence. Periodically people got through the turbulence and would dash off forward to the offramp that lay a short distance beyond, or continue down the freeway. Beyond the distrubance thre freeway was still packed with abandoned cars and a desperate crowd beyond the disturbance ever more desperately fleeing. David could tell many people were getting hurt by eachother in their desperation to get away.
   Looking back in the other direction, it was just more compacted crowds for about a mile, but beyond that the freeway was ominously empty. Movement brought his attention back forward, and he saw that the compressed crowd had suddenly burst forward past the turbulence. All down the line people started moving forward again, but David stayed on top of the car. From where the turbulence had been he still saw people suddenly falling down, or jumping out of the way of something David couldn’t make out. The momentum of the crowd faltered and David could see once again a break in the crowd there with the forward edge of the crowd once again trying to retreat from that point. He saw several people a the front of the crowd get pulled down screaming but he couldn't see what was there. A few intrepid people dashed over the tops of cars in the area. Finally the crowd pulled back and David could see that the way between the cars had become blocked by piles of bodies. To his horror he saw a person, covered from head to toe in blood, lurch up from the pile and lunge madly at the crowd. Once again the crowd lurched backwards.
   Looking back the other direction it looked like the back end of the crowd was getting closer as well.
   Just a short distance ahead of David someone kicked in a maintenance door in the wall. Like the drain pulled in a bathtub, the surrounding crowd all began rushing for the narrow exit. People fell to the ground in the rush and were could be heard shrieking as people continued to hurry over them. David hoped desperately they were not being trampled to death. Several desperate scrabbles broke out in the narrow doorway, with punches thrown. Several other doors had been found in the wall at various points and David could see identical situations happening at all of them. Looking at the front line of the crowd David could see it was coming back faster now, with what appeared to be more berserk blood covered people wildly attacking the crowd. Evidence of how far forward the crowd had been was plainly visible, as the roadway for several dozens of yards further on was riddled with bodies and splashed with crimson blood.
   Making it through the nearest door looked like it would require a lot of fierce jostling with the crowd, but it surely wouldn’t get easier before the murderous berserkers got this far. Just as David was about to try to wade through the crowd he spotted the woman with the two children nearby. She was clutching them to herself looking terrified, and they were both bawling.
   “You need to get out that door!” he shouted at her above the din of panicked voices. She stared at him helplessly. “Here let me help you!” he shouted, and reached to pick up the larger child. The child looked at her and she nodded, so he permitted himself to be picked up.
   David was able to make it about a car length, with the woman and other child right behind him, before he found the crowd absolutely impassable. He placed the child on the hood of the car and then climbed up himself. The woman passed up the other child and then followed herself. They were able to do this to get ahead a few more car lengths but then there were already people clambering over the cars and to attempt to go over them meant risking getting shoved off. This close to the doorway the crowd was moving fast though, so David turned his back to the crowd and tried to push backwards through the mob, holding the one child and with the woman and other following closely behind. He almost tripped, and, looking down, saw someone’s arm and a lot of blood on the ground. A finger moved and David looked away, feeling sick. Forward progress was difficult on account of the ferocity with which terrified people were pushing back from the violent end of the crowd. Blood curdling screams sounded terrifyingly close in that direction.
   With renewed vigor David threw his back into the crowd. Someone elbowed him roughtly in the head, he felt someone else hook their arm behind his neck to lever themselves forward of him. All around him people were desperately scrabbling. Suddenly he felt the people on the doorward side of him disappear and himself roughly shoved in that direction. He didn’t bounce off of another person this time but felt himself fall down onto a sloped embankment, slippery with churned up ice-plant. He rolled down the embankment a dozen feet, doing his best to protect the child. Finally he came to a rest in a pile of squirming people. People were scrambling, scratching and kicking. He tried to get up but another person landed on him knocking him further into the pile. He was able to push the child to the edge of the mass of people, and after a little more struggling in the crowd managed to get to his feet on the edge and stumble free. He was covered with scratch marks and throbbed in several places from kicks and elbows.
   Looking back at the mass he was greatly relieved to see no bloody zombie-like monsters, it was simply people getting pushed out the door, sliding down the slippery embankment, and then panicking when they found themselves all in a pile on the bottom. As people got pushed to the edge they picked themselves up and either ran away or looked for friends and loved ones they might be with.
   David found he had lost track of the woman with the other child before he went through the door, and didn’t see her in his immediate scanning of the situation, but he had done his part to get them off the freeway and now he had to look after himself. Turning around, he found they were next to a suburban street. The owner of the nearest house was busily nailing planks over his windows. Not sure exactly where he was, David ran in the direction most other people seemed to be running.

   Running down the suburban street, David tried calling his mom again but the network was still busy. In front of a number of houses people were hurriedly throwing possessions in cars. There weren’t many cars on the road here but every now and then one would come squealing around a corner. David came to an intersection with a geyser of water shooting up in one corner where a fire hydrant had been bowled over by a car. He went left to try to continue in the direction he had been going on the freeway. A short distance down this road, however, he saw people running back towards him, and he realized the offramp that had been ahead on the freeway was probably down this way, spilling the freeway’s chaos into the neighborhoods. He backtracked and ran to the intersection and took the road that lead further into the city. A steady stream of people were still coming from the direction of the freeway.
   A national guard humvee rumbled towards and past him, with a uniformed soldier riding in the roof hatch with the large roof mounted 50 caliber machine gun in front of him. Feeling a little safer because of this, and with a painful side-ache from running, David slowed down again to a brisk walk and tried to picture in his mind how to get home from here.
   His sense of safety and distraction were soon shattered by the staccato of the heavy machine gun. First there were several short bursts and then it fired continuously, accompanied by the smaller sound of what must be the other soldier’s M-16s. David began running again. The gunfire faded away into, what David realized suddenly was a general background din of sirens, people screaming or yelling near and far, dogs barking, and frequent isolated bangs. Every now and then more heavy machine gun fire could be heard at various places. It sounded like it was particularly heavy near where the offramp had been.
   I think they’ve contained it on the freeway. God I hope they have David found himself thinking. The crowds of refugees had increasingly thinned out the further he got from the freeway, with some coming and going in opposite directions at intersections. He passed a body face-down on the lawn and just hurried quickly past it.
   He heard a shout of profanities up ahead and saw a man in a business suit backing away from a figure that was lurching towards them. David looked backwards but it was a long ways to the last intersection, he didn’t want to lose that much ground and time with things having every appearance of getting worse by the minute.
   There was only one of the zombie-like figures, it wasn’t moving very fast, and the street was broad, David decided to take his chances trying to dodge around the figure. As he got closer, he could see that it was a middle aged woman. She appeared to have some severe bite marks on the upper arm, but otherwise looked physically normal. She had a vicious unthinking feral look on her face though, and moved in an awkward lurching fashion. The man was still backing away from her, uselessly shouting “No! Go away! Shoo!” at her.
   David came up on them, staying on the opposite side of the street. The woman noticed him and seemed unable to make up her mind to stumble towards him or the man. While she was thus distracted the man edged around until they were on opposite sides of her, and then they both ran past her and down the street. The man became winded and had to stop running long before David, and soon David was on his own again.
   Despite the horrors he had already seen, David was stopped in his tracks when he came upon a house that had several bodies in a bloody mess on the front lawn. Their positioning seemed indicate they’d been trying to walk towards the front door, and moving his eyes towards the door itself, David saw that a table at been upended in front of it to create a barrier, and behind it, just in front of the doorway, sat a man with a grey mustache, trucker cap, Vietnam era camoflauge jacket, and brandishing a shotgun, with another slung on his back. As soon as David hesitated the man aimed the gun at him and called out “you god damn better keep walking!”
   David didn’t need a second invitation, he was on his way! He turned onto a familiar street at the next intersection, home was only a few blocks away! He stepped out of the way of a man carrying a rake – the pronged end of it was alarmingly bloody. It was no longer safe to walk in the middle of the road, as what cars there were usually came screeching down the street at a reckless speed. Everyone going anywhere seemed to be in an urgent hurry.
   Up ahead three figures were pounding on the front door and boarded up front windows of a house. From their ungainly movements David could tell they were “infected.” David also noticed that the front windows were smashed in on several of the houses that hadn’t boarded them up. Some of the shards of broken glass had blood on them.
   David tried to quietly hurry past the three on the other side of the road, his heart pounding, but to his horror first one, turned and looked at him, and then the oter turned and all three started quickly shambling towards him with drooling slack mouths and vacant eyes. He turned to go the other way but saw two more climb out of a broken window in that direction, heedless of the broken glass, and start to head towards him. He frantically looked from one group to the other. The figures were able to move surprisingly fast considering their ungainly gait, and it would be hard to get past either group without being potentially intercepted. He could dart between the houses, jump some fences, and come out on the other side, but there were too many unknowns with that plan – he might end up cornered in a backyard, or even be set upon by an unfriendly dog that had been worked up to a frenzy by all the chaos. He prepared to try to run past the two that had come out of the window.
   He ran towards them on the same side of the street as they, so that at the last minute he could veer around them in the street. As he prepared to run to the other side and pass them, a body he hadn’t noticed lying facedown on an overgrown lawn on that side picked itself up with the unmistakable movements of a the infected. David took a quick look behind him and confirmed that those three were closing in on him from that side. This was about to be very close.

   Just as David was beginning his run to get between the two window zombies and the new lawn zombie, he heard the screech of tires right behind him and three loud thumps. He couldn’t help but glance back again – a police car had come skidding to a halt right on top of the three zombies, which it must have bowled over.
   “GET DOWN!” the driver shouted. David hit the asphalt as the officer aimed an M-16 out the patrol-car’s window and unleashed a quick burst at each of the two zombies. The shots were aimed at their heads, and David noted that though they were each hit several times in the head – each hit marked by a sickening sort of crunch and cloud of red—they didn’t seem terribly deterred. They were alarmingly close and continued approaching. One of them, who looked to be a young man wearing a “hurley” shirt and backwards baseball cap, appeared to be having trouble seeing straight, David tried not to look at his one eye that was dangling out of his head. Two more bursts of gunfire just about destroyed both their heads, and they both slumped to the ground in pools of blood.
   The officer tossed his gun back on his passenger seat and hit the gas, hitting the lawn zombie and sending him flying. He landed in a broken and crumpled state, but was still moving so the officer moved his car relatively close and took several single shots at point blank range at its head until it stopped moving. “get somewhere safe and stay there!” shouted the officer to David, before speeding off.



I've often found it disappointing that nearly all zombie movies seem to skip past the beginning, fast forwarding to a point where everyone is already desensitized to the whole situation. I've been wanting to write a story that takes us through the very beginning of it, as the rigorous iron of social norms (such as office ettiquette) slowly gives way to the complete breakdown of society. For example I think the tremendous taboo against murder would prevent even adequately armed people from actually shooting a zombie until they were absolutely forced to, as social taboos are eroded. If I continue the story I was thinking I'd mirror the rescue of the child with David less prone to look out for others later on, as well as a key moment when he first has to kill a zombie himself.
   Also, in pondering how it would actually unfold, I was really struck by how the freeways would act like a wick or fuse, first becoming completely clogged and then becoming the panicked stampede, with some "infected" people with minor bites or scratches carrying it ahead like sparks before turning themselves.

Part of my continuing coverage of the Coming Zombie Apocalypse, this story is preceded by Patient Zero and followed by 28 Hours Later

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LJ Idol Season 10 Introduction

   First you hear a buzzing. The buzzing of bees among the tall straight gum trees. Then some startled roos burst from the underbrush, dart across a meadow like a panicked school of fish, and funnel across a small wooden bridge over a small creek. Presently, Kris emerges from the forest, with a very large cat on his shoulder.


But pretend its the forest behind me

   Oh hi. I've been sadly sadly neglecting livejournal as late. Fortunately LJ Idol usually motivates me to actually post. It'll be hard though, I'm busier than ever ::carefully removes a bee that has landed on the cat::

   I'm in Victoria now, the very most southern part of mainland Australia (further south than South Australia!), though I think I was already here as of last season? It's always so cold here. So cold. ::shivers::
   I'm not Australian though; I can still be heard loudly declaiming that eggs don't belong on hamburgers and sausages should be put in buns, not flaccid slices of bread. Do I want a beer in any size smaller than a pint? No, that is un-American!!

   When not writing for LJ Idol my livejournal is mostly travelogues. I never got around to writing about Kyrgyzstan last April so I might try to shoehorn that into the first few entries if the topic remotely suits. If you're curious about any of the places I've been, see the index at the top of my livejournal.

   Alright, back to work. ::returns into the forest, narrowly avoiding being killed by a dropbear. Shortly all you hear is the chirping of birds and especially the buzzing of bees.


   And I don't often appear in video, but when I do... well here's a video I recently made with a friend for a lesson I had to give on bee disease identification which I'm posting just so you can visualize the forest I intended to portray in this entry; the forest in which I work.


   And for more of what I know you're really after, more pictures of that gorgeous cat, see my instagram.

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LJ Idol Season [?!?!]

Well I'm back home in the states now, so it's time to start catching up on the blogging. Usually this is delayed as I first concentrate on the daunting task of sifting through hundreds of pictures .... but heartbreakingly due to the phone-camera loss I have lost half the pictures, and the other half, from the DSLR, I can't unload on to my computer until I get a external hard drive because the computer has 0 MB of room on it, and I can't get an external hard drive until some new debit cards arrive in the mail since my wallet was stolen....

Anyway. And my blogging will be severely impaired by the loss of my rough-log I was keeping on my phone. Sure I remember big and general things but countless small daily observations are now lost forever. I remember scrambling for my phone while driving through Uganda to make a note about people gathering grasshoppers to eat by the side of the road before my goldfish-like memory lost it forever ... and fortunately that has somehow become lodged in my memory but how many things like it have not been?

Anyway anyway, therealljidol, the fun blogging contest I've participated in for many years now is having another season that should start next week, so I'm officially throwing my hat in!
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Poll Time!

There's a poll on! The top three get to keep on writing in the infamous "Livejournal Idol" competition, while the bottom two vote getters are eliminated, and no doubt compelled to sit in the corner facing the wall.

As of this moment I am one of those bottom two. I find this somewhat alarming and would like the opportunity to continue writing, so please read my entry, be incredibly amused by it, and vote for me, emo_snal!

Poll #1987185 LJ Idol, Season Nine, Last Chance Idol - Week 5
This poll is closed.

The Ballot:

aimercat's entry
14(10.7%)
dmousey's entry
29(22.1%)
emo-snal's entry
31(23.7%)
i_love_freddie's entry
24(18.3%)
swirlsofblue's entry
33(25.2%)


My entry is about a far distant dystopian future, and by dystopian I mean so god damn boring that they look back on our current day as an exciting time! And in their fantasy 20thish century there's pirates! And gun-battles! And maybe even a little hint of romance!

There are not, however, tree-dwelling land octopii, that comes in Episode III.


...but Episode III won't come for awhile because this upcoming Sunday (3.3125 chrons from now) I will leave the country to return to Africa! So if I stay in the competition you get to hear about my upcoming adventures in Nairobi, and Tanzania (did someone say Serengeti or Olduvai Gorge?), and Zanzibar (Zzzzzanzibar!!) and possibly even during my ten hour layover in Istanbul!
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Crossing the T

   Christie felt the salty wind on her face and she was excited. She was on a pirate ship! And soon there would be a battle. The deck vibrated under her feet as the vessel motored out to one end of a large t-shaped inlet.
   "Ladies and gentlemen, could I have your attention please?" a crewmember with bushy red muttonchops was standing on the bench in the middle of the deck addressing the assembled passengers.
   "In a moment we'll shut off the engine and set sail, to do battle with those villianous rogues on the Lady Washington over there!" and he pointed at the similarly piratey looking ship at the other end of the inlet. There's not much wind today so we're probably going to have to set everything we've got..." he continued to explain something about lifejackets and introduce the crew, but Christie was too busy taking in all the exciting sights around her. Finally he finished, and the captain, a big fellow with a huge red beard that could have belonged to a dwarf in Lord of the Rings, hollered out a series of commands. As the crewmembers swarmed up the lattice-like grid of ropes that formed a ladder up the mast, the captain switched off the engine. She hadn't noticed how loud it had been until it was off, but suddenly the deck was no longer vibrating and there was just the sound of waves lapping at the side. The crisp salty wind she'd felt against her face abruptly stopped as well, and she realized she'd only felt wind because of the vessel's forward motion.
   She craned her neck back to see the sailors high above. They swiftly ascended the mast on one side and then, where the yardarms formed a t, they crossed over to the other side to loose the sails. Finally, after much running about and hauling on an overwhelming number of lines, they had all the sails set. But there was still no wind, and the boat still wasn't moving.
   Passengers looked at each other and grumbled, why aren't we moving? This is not how it looked in the pirate movies!
   "Ladies and gentlemen!" the crewmember was addressing the passengers again, "We are now prepared to travel the way most of the world was explored, at the speed of smell!" There was a moment before there was some laughing as people got the joke.
   "Now we've evidently got a little time ahead of us, so let me explain what we're going to aim to do. In the movies the ships just line up and fire away into their side, right? But the sides are the strongest part of the vessel and when you're doing that you're getting it right back from them, so what you want to do is what's called crossing the T, where you cross either in front of or behind the opposing vessel. That way you can fire your entire broadside and they can only fire the few guns they might have facing forward or aft. In addition, your shots will roll down their entire deck, having ample opportunity to hit and destroy things and thus make them sad. And if you're firing at the back of their vessel that is the very best because the stern is the weakest part and you might knock out their rudder or their captain."
   Christie looked out at the other vessel, similarly bobbing motionless with all sails set. This could take awhile.
   "Naval battles would often take hours or even days" the crewmember explained helpfully.

   The gunner, a blonde red-faced fellow introduced as "Pony," explained how he fired the four guns (two per side), which he insisted were never to be called cannons. Then the captain called out for the crew to "set stunsels!" and crewmembers ran aloft again. They pushed poles out further on the ends of the yards, increasing the length of the crossbar of the t, and then set additional sails on them, outside the main big square sails.
   Meanwhile someone pointed out that the other ship appeared to be rowing now -- they'd pushed two oars out on each side, which a crewmember referred to as sweeps, and were trying to row themselves, but given the size of the ship, the four oars weren't making much progress.
   The captain stroked his beard and looked thoughtfully at the sails while the passengers and crew began to chat with each other. A good-looking crewmember had just started to talk to Christie, with a devilish twinkle in his eye, when the captain burst out "Kirby! You and Crazy Ivan and Knuckles lower the smallboat!" and the crewmember quickly excused himself and ran off to the rowboat hanging in davits off the stern. They rowed the little rowboat to the front of their ship and threw a line up, which was secured to a post and then they tried to tow the ship, though they didn't appear to be making much more progress than the other ship.



   Presently, something splashed in the water off to the side, followed a minute later by a second splash. Curious onlookers peered at the other vessel, about a hundred yards away by now, and then they saw that on deck they had a giant slingshot. Two people held either side while a third pulled it back with the projectile. Examination of the floating projectiles revealed that it was leftover biscuits from breakfast that were being fired!
   "Rig the attack bubbles!" called out the captain in as fierce a voice as one can say such a thing. A crewmember ran aloft with a bottle and bubble-blowing utensil. From a position up on the mast, perched on a yardarm, he blew large bubbles which floated slowly towards the other vessel.
   "Pull us around to starboard!" the captain called down to the rowboat, and the sweating rowers started trying to pull the nose of the ship to the right.
   "Ahahahaha we have you now!!" a crewmember called out to the hapless other vessel, which was still pointed towards them and less able to turn with their inadequate sweeps.
   "Okay, everyone on deck, we need you all to help," the captain addressed everyone. "I need you all to run in a counter-clockwise circle around the deck." Everyone stared at him blankly. "As you run you'll be pushing the ship with your feet towards turning clockwise" he explained. "Now go!" Laughingly, everyone began to run in a circle.
   "Okay, okay, avast the running and clear the gun deck!!" the captain called out. Christie had been so caught up in the fun of the ridiculous run around the deck that she was surprised to realize they very nearly were broadside to the other ship now. The other ship was also attempting to turn, so unfortunately, it wouldn't be a clean shot down its length, but they still couldn't get all their guns to bear.
   "Kris, help Pony get all the guns on the port side," the captain ordered, and the crewmember with the muttonchops helped the gunner detach a gun carriage from where lines held it on one side and they pushed it slowly, both straining with its weight, to the other side. Then they did it with the second gun from that side until all four guns were on the side facing the other ship.
   "Fire as she bears!!"
   In rapid succession, the gunner used a stick with a smouldering piece of linen on the end to touch off the touch-hole of each gun, which caused each gun to go off with a deafening boom and cloud of sulfurous-smelling smoke.



   The other ship came around and fired its gun with a faraway bang. "That's a nice ketch!" one of their crewmembers yelled, making "ketch" sound like "catch," a crewmember near Christie made a disgusted face, and said "he makes that same joke every single day. Our ship is a ketch you see, but that's no excuse to use the same joke every single day."
   "You have tiny baggywrinkles!!" he called back to the other ship. "Those fuzzy things on the line are called baggywrinkles," he turned and explained to Christie. "They prevent chafing. You can see theirs are quite small compared to our big, manly, baggywrinkles."

   A few more shots were exchanged as well as many more obscure pun-based insults, and then it was time for the crew to scramble aloft and take the sails back down.

   As they motored back across the bay, Christie reflected that even though there hadn't been any wind and they hadn't moved fast, it had been fun seeing the creative ways the sailors came up with to try to move their ship.
   "Gunner, load one more gun!" the captain called to Pony, who was just crossing the deck with tea.
   "What, why?" he started to ask, and the captain pointed to a large ferry coming down the bay. The Puget Sound ferries dwarf the tallships, and look like giant whalefish with open mouths as they have a large cavity going from front to back, which is the car deck.
   "Maple Syrup is headed home on that ferry, and we should demonstrate a good example of crossing the T anyway." the captain said with a grin.
   "Aye aye, captain!" Pony enthusiastically responded and started reloading powder into one of the guns (they'd been returned to their original sides). Under engine power the ship easily manoeuvered to cross well in front of the unsuspecting ferry.
   "Fire as she bears!"
   Pony waited until the ferry was perfectly aligned, daylight clearly visible out the other side of the gaping mouth. "FIRE IN THE HOLE!" he called out as he touched off the gun.
   There was a boom, and swirling grey smoke, followed quickly by a hollow rumbling echo ... and then a half dozen car alarms went off. The crew and passengers cheered loudly.

***

Crossing the T bonus entry: in 2009 I wrote this hand-written entry on hand-writing which totally could have also served this topic.

Anyway, this entry is based on true events. From http://emo-snal.livejournal.com/20… through http://emo-snal.livejournal.com/20… I was a crewmember of the tallship Hawaiian Chieftain.

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Getting Shafted by Airport Security

The following are true events that happened to me:

2006 - The diplomatic security agent leads me through the diplomatic security offices --which look a lot like any other offices: cubicles, copy machines, water coolers-- until we come to a very small square room. She tells me to take a seat and leaves the room, closing the door behind her. While I wait I look around the room: Chair and table both bolted to the floor; large floodlight on the ceiling pointed at me (fortunately not on); security camera unobtrusively placed in one corner facing me; and what I thought was a mirror on the wall in front of me I realize is actually almost certainly a one-way window. "This is the room where they beat people with hoses!!" my inner monologue exclaims to itself.

   Five minutes later I'll find myself explaining some of my opinions on America's airline security to Diplomatic Security, but let's back up first a bit.



2005 - I'm standing in the the security checkpoint line at Sacramento international airport, a college student on my way to San Diego to chair the International Law Commission (ILC) at a Model United Nations conference. Back then the airports hadn't yet learned how to properly digest the backlog at security checkpoints caused by heightened 9/11 security, so the lines tended to be painfully long. As I slowly work my way through the line I pass the time thinking about such things as "transnational liability for accidental pollution," "legality of reservations to treaties," or, one of my favorite ILC topics, "the legal status of unlawful combatants."
   Finally I arrive at the x-ray conveyer. I place my bag, my laptop, my briefcase, my belt, and other requisite objects on the conveyer. I'm wearing my suit because I'll need it that weekend, and can't be bothered to haul around a garment bag. Lest I give the erroneous impression that I look thoroughly straight-laced, I should mention I also had a rather tall green mohawk at the time and had just placed the paratrooper combat boots I always wear (even with a suit on a most occasions) on the conveyer belt.

   Despite my careful removal of all metal objects I'm surprised not to set anything off as I walk through the metal detector -- but my luck ends there. I look up to see a large African-American TSA agent blocking my path in a surly manner. "You've been randomly selected. Sitinthatchair."
   I move towards a nearby chair "NOT that chair!" he barks. "Stickyourlegout" he says in a mumble I can barely understand, followed by "NO notlikethat!"

   He inspects my bag and just as I think this unpleasant hassle must have run its course he triumphantly pulls out my gavel and holds it up!
   "Whatisthis??"
   "That's a gavel sir"
   "It's a hammer-like object, you're going to have to leave it with us."
   "Uh, no. That has my name engraved on it and I'm going to need it this weekend." I'm becoming quite alarmed. Seeing as I'm not going to take this one lightly he calls his supervisor over. Eventually we reach a compromise -- they'll unscrew the shaft of the gavel and I can keep the head of it. That way I can keep the engraved section and if I can find a new shaft it's whole again, while for their comfort it is no longer a "hammer-like" object. It seems to me that the gavel would probably be a more effective weapon without the shaft anyway, considering the shaft would must assuredly break if it was ever used to do more than make a stern hammering sound on a table (though maybe with it I could take over the plane through cunning use of robert's rules of order?).

   The TSA agent who had been hassling me finally moves his attention to the next passenger, politely greeting an African-American gentleman in a friendly manner. I had previously chalked up his malignant demeanor towards me as him being in a bad mood or perhaps just being an unpleasant person in general, but when I saw his behaviour change 180 degrees when he was addressing someone of his own race I was shocked all over again -- I'm quite convinced I was just the victim of racism.

   I proceed to my gate still fuming over the desecration of my gavel. A symbol of justice and they had destroyed it in their insane quest to enforce largely arbitrary rules on people. In my mind I inventoried all the other weaponable objects that people are allowed to bring on planes every day -- belts with belt-buckles is a big one, sharpened pencils, anyone could smuggle on some fishing line and proceed to garrotte people with it... really banned items such as nail files, cigarette lighters and, apparently, gavels, are not even as weaponizable as things large percentages of passengers do or could bring on board every day.




2006 - The very month I graduated with my degree in international relations (with the "Peace & Security" emphasis) I interviewed for a job with Diplomatic Security (ah I was young and naive then, thought my degree somehow would qualify me for a job), and during my interview with dipsec, when they asked me "do you believe current airport security measures are effectively protecting the American public, I had an answer for them. I was able to give them an extensively thought-out answer about the utter ineffectiveness of airport security, not only through the numerous weaponizable things people are allowed to bring through security, but for other reasons such as "nearly every airport has restaurants on the inside of the security checkpoints. These restaurants presumably have knives. If our security depends on Al-queda not being able to infiltrate McDonalds, we are probably not actually very safe," BUT, I concluded, these invasive security measures probably do accomplish their intended purpose: making the American public FEEL safer.

   As a result of this sassy answer to the question ... I got advanced all the way to the second-to-last of the six layers or so of screening. (They seemed disappointed I didn't have any special skills such as scuba-diving or parachuting, and apologetically informed me that "you know, there aren't very many positions open and they usually almost all go to ex-military people." And so, I'm not a diplomatic security agent, and you are hassled at the airport because it makes you feel safer.


And here's my gavel after being reassembled




   I apologize to all my readers who wanted to hear about the improbable destruction of the world's most isolated tree, maybe some other prompt! (:
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Season 6 Index Installment IV

   Continuing with the fourth and final installment of an index of last year's LJI entries...

Week 19: Open Topic 2010-03-23
Entry: A Rather Buoyant Scheme
Posted From: New York City, New York
Type: Essay, Steampunk, lots of hand drawn diagrams
Poll Outcome: Contestant-only write in / Gatekeeper vote: PASS
Notes: An idea that had initially come to me while 100 feet below the surface of the Red Sea several months earlier.

Week 20: "Playing House" 2010-03-30
Entry: Let's Play House
Posted From: The ROGUE BREWERY itself, in Newport, OR
Type: Fiction, fan-fic, film noir
Poll Outcome: 39 (9.0%), 46th overall
Notes: On crew dynamics in my new home, the 65' ketch Hawaiian Chieftain.

Week 21: "Hyperbole is Literally Hitler" 2010-04-06
Entry: Disappearing Bees
Posted From: Garibaldi, WA
Type: Several Mini Narratives
Poll Outcome: 46 (12.4%), 16th overall
Notes: "Hyperbole is Literally Hitler?!?!?!?!" Is a topic???? We were sure His Highness the Administrator must have certainly completely and utterly lost his marbles this time. Eventually after much talking among ourselves of "what the devil is Gary on about this time???" we decided the topic was "hyperbole" and he had just been a bit hyperbolic in wording it. So I wrote about hyperbole in media reporting on bee problems.

Week 22: "No Sight of Land" 2010-04-14
Entry: Third Watch
Posted From: Port Angeles, WA
Type: Narrative, nonfiction, recent personal story
Poll Outcome: Contestant only write in vote: PASS
Notes: A look at my shift as watch officer as we sailed up around the tip of the Olympic Peninsula earlier that morning.

Week 23: "Underdog" 2010-04-21
Entry: Pakicetus
Posted From: Sequim, WA
Type: Narrative, historical fiction
Poll Outcome: 45 (14.4%)*, 11th overall
Notes: Once upon a time in 53,000,000 BC...

Week 24: "Rolling Stop" 2010-04-29
Entry: The Fall
Posted From: Friday Harbor, San Juan Island, WA
Type: Narrative, nonfiction, personal story
Poll Outcome: 31 (12.4%), 30th otherall, ELIMINATED
Notes: An entry begun at nearly 2am in the aft cabin of the boat surrounded by empty beer bottles and whiskey glasses, written largely from memory about obscure historical facts, finished around 3 with revielle only four hours away... so I think I at least went out with style. (: Anyway, about the fall of the Byzantine Empire and then the subject kind of wanders around exploring the fall of the Roman Empire in other areas.

Week 24 Bonus Material: Getting Laid on the Boat -- The voice post I almost submitted for my entry instead. JUST DECLASSIFIED!
Notes: That abrupt end is me saying "ah this is crap" and hanging up (:

Official Fairwell Post: So Long and Thanks for All the Catfish

   Eliminated in the 24th round, putting me at 31st place overall. Averaged at 16.6th place in all public polls. Outlasted 86% of the 226 or so original contenders.


Totally Unrelated Picture of the Day



A picture from around the time I got eliminated -- 04/27 at Friday Harbor.
Steam Idol

LJ Idol Season 6 Index

   I have very often found it useful to refer to the index I made of my therealljidol posts last year, and have always intended to make one for this most recent season, but certainly didn't have the time.
   Now doing so is still liable to take a dash of time, so I think I'm going to aim to do it in four installments of six or so (I was eliminated at 31st place in round 24). When I make the future installments I believe I'll add them to this first post though so it's all in one place. So here's the first six:


Last Year's Index: Season V

Season VI:

Week 0: "Introduction" 2009-10-07
Entry: Introduction
Prior Year's Introduction: And a Particularly Dashing Picture of Myself
Posted From: Mission Viejo, CA
Type: Essay
Poll Outcome: 76 votes (25.9%), 1st in bracket, 2nd overall

Week 1: "Empty Gestures" 2009-10-18
Entry: Turkesh Carpet Salesmen
Posted From: Istanbul, Turkey
Type: Narrative, Non-fiction, Recent
Poll Outcome: 85 (24.9%) 7th in bracket, 21st overall
Notes: On events of just the other day.

Week 2: "Uphill Both Ways" 2009-10-30
Entry: Climbing Mount Sinai
Posted From: Sharm al-Sheikh, Sinai Desert
Type: Narrative, Non-fiction, Recent
Poll Outcome: 65 (26.4%)5th in bracket, 18th overall
Notes: Entirely written during a 15 minute or so stint in a little internet hut in the Sinai, regarding the previous day's adventures.

Week 3: "Smile" 2009-11-04
Entry: Smile
Posted From: Cairo, Egypt
Type: Narrative, Non-fiction, Recent
Poll Outcome: 61 (33.5%), 6th in bracket, 21st overall
Notes: In Egypt, everyone is trying to scam you, learn to love it.

Week 4: "Moments of Devastating Beauty" 2009-11-12
Entry: 28 Years Later
Posted From: Philadelphia, PA
Type: Narrative, Fiction
Poll Outcome: 60 (15.7%), 5th in bracket, 23rd overall
Notes: Maybe we'd be better off after the zombie apocalypse..

Week 5: "Bearing False Witness" 2009-11-21
Entry: Old Timey Religion Part I
Sequel: Old Timey Religion Part II
Posted From: Mission Viejo, CA
Type: Narrative, Fiction
Poll Outcome: 47 (16.4%), 10th in bracket, 25th ovverall
Notes: An entry that, as expected, rather offended a number of persons. I've considered the counterarguments the entry inspired and really they didn't change my perspective on the issue at all, except in that I wish I'd written Part II in time to be part of the official submission because I think it really helps drive the point home.

Week 6: "Sunrise" 2009-12-04
Entry: Waking Up On A Boat
Posted From: Astoria, OR
Type: Narrative, Nonfiction, Recent
Poll Outcome: 46 (30.3%), 1st in bracket, 10th overall
Notes: On life in December on the brig Lady Washington

Week 7: "One Touch" 2009-12-11
Entry: On Hold
Posted From: Astoria, OR
Type: Essay, on recent circumstances
Poll Outcome: 50 (25.6%), 5th in bracket, 9th overall
Notes: Update on life on the boat.

Week 8: "Reprobate" 2009-12-19
Entry: Zombieproof
Posted From: Aberdeen, WA
Type: Narrative, Fiction
Poll Outcome: 60 (27.1%), 1st in bracket, 4th overall.
Notes: We having nothing to fear but fear itself...

Annual Christmas Party 2009-12-26
Entry: Green Red Room Holiday Party!
Posted From: Mission Viejo, CA

Week 9: "Better Half" 2010-01-08
Entry: We're Supposed to Choose the Hipster?
Posted From: Mission Viejo, CA
Type: Essay, humorous
Poll Outcome: 46 (23.2%), 4th in bracket, 5th overall
Notes: on the Mac vs PC commercials.

Week 10: "Open Topic" 2010-01-16
Entry: To Boldly Go...
Posted From: Mission Viejo, CA
Type: Narrative, Science Fiction
Poll Outcome: Gatekeeper Round: passed
Notes: Being a "gatekeeper round," there was no poll.. so it probably didn't get read by as many people, which is a shame because it was another entry I was rather proud of.

META BBQ! 2010-01-23
Entry: The Return of Saturday Meta-BBQs! (or "10 Reasons I Should Be America's Next Top LJ Idol Gatekeeper")
Posted From: Mission Viejo
Type: Essay, Meta-BBQ
Notes: Ten thoughts on writing for LJI

Week 11: "Run, Don't Walk"
Entry: Passed on making a submission this week

Week 12: "Apathy" 2010-01-29
Entry: Making Fire
Posted From: Mission Viejo, CA
Type: Essay
Poll Outcome: 43 (8.2%), no brackets, 14th overall
Notes: Girls, girls...

Week 13: "Who's that Trip Trapping Over My LJ?" 2010-02-08
Entry: The Quest for a Drink
Posted From: Mission Viejo, CA
Type: Comic!
Poll Outcome: 50 (10.5%), 13th overall
Notes: Intersection with Zia-Narratora!

Meta: LJ Decathalon! 2010-02-13
Entry: Declaration of the LJI Decathalon!!!
Posted From: Mission Viejo
Notes: The totally unofficial not-official-at-all LJI Decathalon!!

Week 14: "Precognition" 2010-02-15
Entry: Jack Batelin, Private Eye
Posted From: Mission Viejo, CA
Type: Fiction, fan-fic, film noir
Poll Outcome: Contestant only write in vote -- PASS
Notes: Intersection with Jack Batelin!

Week 16: "Breaking the Fast" 2010-03-03
Entry: Breaking, Fast
Posted From: Mission Viejo, CA
Type: Narrative, fiction, other
Poll Outcome: 59 (14.9%), 4th overall
Notes: Written in the style of a text based adventure game

Week 17: "The Caged Bird" 2010-03-08
Entry: Jar O Bees!
Posted From: Mission Viejo, CA
Type: Narrative, nonfiction, recent personal story
Poll Outcome: 56 (15.0%), 5th overall
Notes: If you want bees in a jar, I am your man.

Week 18: "Adored" 2010-03-17
Entry: Flouting Adoration
Posted From: Las Vegas, NV
Type: Narrative, nonfiction, personal story
Poll Outcome: 41 (10.8%), 38th otherall
Notes: On my experiences in student government. One of my very worst poll showings, proof that people really don't give a crap about student government (:

Week 19: Open Topic 2010-03-23
Entry: A Rather Buoyant Scheme
Posted From: New York City, New York
Type: Essay, Steampunk
Poll Outcome: Contestant-only write in / Gatekeeper vote: PASS
Notes: An idea that had initially come to me while 100 feet below the surface of the Red Sea several months earlier.

Week 20: "Playing House" 2010-03-30
Entry: Let's Play House
Posted From: The ROGUE BREWERY itself, in Newport, OR
Type: Fiction, fan-fic, film noir
Poll Outcome: 39 (9.0%), 46th overall
Notes: On crew dynamics in my new home, the 65' ketch Hawaiian Chieftain.

Week 21: "Hyperbole is Literally Hitler" 2010-04-06
Entry: Disappearing Bees
Posted From: Garibaldi, WA
Type: Several Mini Narratives
Poll Outcome: 46 (12.4%), 16th overall
Notes: "Hyperbole is Literally Hitler?!?!?!?!" Is a topic???? We were sure His Highness the Administrator must have certainly completely and utterly lost his marbles this time. Eventually after much talking among ourselves of "what the devil is Gary on about this time???" we decided the topic was "hyperbole" and he had just been a bit hyperbolic in wording it. So I wrote about hyperbole in media reporting on bee problems.

Week 22: "No Sight of Land" 2010-04-14
Entry: Third Watch
Posted From: Port Angeles, WA
Type: Narrative, nonfiction, recent personal story
Poll Outcome: Contestant only write in vote: PASS
Notes: A look at my shift as watch officer as we sailed up around the tip of the Olympic Peninsula earlier that morning.

Week 23: "Underdog" 2010-04-21
Entry: Pakicetus
Posted From: Sequim, WA
Type: Narrative, historical fiction
Poll Outcome: 45 (14.4%)*, 11th overall
Notes: Once upon a time in 53,000,000 BC...

Week 24: "Rolling Stop" 2010-04-29
Entry: The Fall
Posted From: Friday Harbor, San Juan Island, WA
Type: Ramble, historical
Poll Outcome: 31 (12.4%), 30th otherall, ELIMINATED
Notes: An entry begun at nearly 2am in the aft cabin of the boat surrounded by empty beer bottles and whiskey glasses, written largely from memory about obscure historical facts, finished around 3 with revielle only four hours away... so I think I at least went out with style. (: Anyway, about the fall of the Byzantine Empire and then the subject kind of wanders around exploring the fall of the Roman Empire in other areas.

Week 24 Bonus Material: The voice post I almost submitted for my entry instead.
Notes: That abrupt end is me saying "ah this is crap" and hanging up (:

Official Fairwell Post: So Long and Thanks for All the Catfish

   Eliminated in the 24th round, putting me at 31st place overall. Averaged at 16.6th place in all public polls. Outlasted 86% of the 226 or so original contenders.