Literature del Lucas

So, I recently had a friend share some of his published stories with me and he inspired me to revisit many of my own. I have gone thru and done a bit of revising, and polishing to my favorites and decided I might as well post them online for any one to enjoy. They are not perfect, so there are still occasional writing blunders I am sure. Hey, I drink beer and make messes just like everyone else!

I enjoy to write, and if you enjoy to read, you might enjoy to read what I write. There is a mix of non-fiction, poetry, prose, and fiction. Some of it personal, some of it not. As an artist, it doesn't do much good to let this stuff just sit, so I am putting it out there along with myself.  I've got nothing to lose or at least nothing I can think about at this time. Shoot... umm. Well whatever. 

Here's the links to the stories. All of them are nicely formatted and laid out. I didn't think about printing when I designed them, but feel free to print if you want. I can change anything if necessary. 

Pass them around. Enjoy. Detest. Cry. Burn. Eat. Laugh. Peep. Pound it out. 

A Cat's Metaphor. A short story about a boy and his cats. 

Day at the Office. Short story about a sniper.

Daybreak Dozen. A Short about running in Grand Island.

Edna the Chimney. Short about dreams and my grandma's passing.

Mid Summer Night's Dream. A climbing Short from HCR

Nightrunner. Poem about... just guess. 

Olive Oil's Back Side. A story inspired by climbing Olive Oil in Red Rocks.

Rubber, Cadence and Acid. A Short about triathlons. 

Run East: Embellishment Unnecessary. A short about GETTING LEFT BESIDE THE ROAD.

Telecom Mummy. Inspired poetry. 

Outdoor ambiance mixed with indoor amenities.

So just as of lately, within the past few days, my kitchen light does not work at night. It will work fine in the morning, and all day too, but some point in the evening it just decides, "Fuck this, I'm going to Sizzler." So this leaves me in the dark, at least in the kitchen. What's a boy to do? Well duh! Not use any other lights in the apartment and finish out the day working, eating, playing, and hanging -- all by head lamp. I don't have to use flint to light my stove, or find a tree to lean up against when I have to... ponder. How fun is it? Find out for yourself! 

I guess if my land lord isn't reading my blog, I will have to tell him what's up so I can get it fixed. There isn't much more sexy than laying around in an afghan in my one-zee airplane PJs , reading a book all in the glow of a LED headlamp. Ahhh. Just like olden days.  I try and close the curtains because I am sure it looks like someone is robbing my place. And I don't want the Johnny Law bustin' down the door. If the kitchen light comes back and sees that kinda stuff going down, he just might not ever come back on again. Then again, maybe I could then throw a head lamp party. Look for your invite.

Good Morning Breakfast.

In the nick of time

Just in time for the Photo Annual of Urban Climber to come out, I had decided to take part of my site down to rebuild my outdated galleries with new hot photos and such. Bad timing on my part. I'll get that going as soon as I can and maybe no one will notice. It's not like I have any work related functions to attend!

On another note, you may have noticed my new blog mascot. The nervous, French bee with the Tommy Gun. He has yet to be named and I may have a contest to name him. He puts the "B" in my Blog. As is the case with most pieces of wood, the log will not get a name due to its lack of personality and general low moral and work ethic. 

Oh, I love eggs! I love them so much, I recently bought a skillet for the sole purpose of cooking eggs. My favorite is eggs over easy, dashed with salt, pepper, cumin, and curry. Damn good stuff. I also enjoy the battle of whether eggs are good or bad for you. It flops back and forth every decade or so. I could care less, they taste tasty and thats what I know. Oh, plus you can safely make them right when you wake up without the need to really put on clothing. If you try that with bacon, you will most likely be sorry. I know, I have suffered, I have learned my lesson. 

Sunday Craw

The term "freelance unemployee" has recently surfaced into my fishy flavored vocabulary. I find it unpleasantly suitable to my current standings of life. It however does give me opportunities to broaden my sea of thought and experience. I can't say that I ever wondered what 90 pounds of cray fish looked like, but after this past afternoon's fiasco, I now know and didn't like the show. I am not too hip on shell fish as is, but seeing all those little son's of bitches before they were boiled definitely did not change my perspective. I went to a "Craw Fish Fry" (or boil?) expecting maybe some chicken or burgers to be in the mix as well. Not the case. I think of myself as a fairly well diverse and curious eater of  cuisines but the whole tear, suck, pop thing with the craw was nothing I could swing.

Earth Day

In celebration of Earth Day, there was a large gathering in Elmwood park here in Omaha. The place was happening with commercialistic values and almost not a parking space to be found. Cars parked every which way, crushing vegetation and turning the park into a parking lot. We on bikes had to survive the maze of wheeled metal cages in order to take part in the festivities. I had 3 or 4 screw drivers during brunch, so I wasn't quite on top of my game. 

I'm not saying the festivities weren't all for a good cause, but it just seems like a strange way to go about it. I'd prefer something quieter and with a whole lot less people. And beer. All in all, it was great to see a bunch of friends and hang out on a nice day. I should have hung out longer.

I went home and fell asleep afterwards then woke up about 10, ran 7 miles and clinked mugs with the neighbors. About 3.30 in the morning, I rode over to Jon & Amanda's and listened to crazy stories from my brother's past. It's amazing I ever survived growing up with all the crazy shit that went down around me-- most of it without me even blinking an eye at! I was never left beside the road with my ween in my hand, however.

Whiskey Wednesday

Looks like Pearl Street isn't the only place with Whiskey Wednesday action. I didn't bother going in tho, I want to save myself for the real thing with the AAA team some day. This place was trying too hard. It wasn't a sultry basement establishment with free pool and old wood floors. In other words, this place would have totally dried me up. 

I was downtown in Omaha that night to partake in the Pizza & Pint night with my buddy Matt. I believe the P&PN would be something that Wig, Limit, and Bronco could truly appreciate. Our wednesday evenings will cross in the future! Here's to you guys and keeping the constant struggle thru life wet as a summer mountain river. 

Eldo Climbfest

Rusty, Chris and I attacked the Eldorado canyon this last weekend with gusto and style. Our drive to CO was satisfied with 5 dollar foot longs from subway, rain and sleet, and some baked meatballs I made the previous night. We unfortunately lost Jesse to work and car repairs moments before our group was scheduled to leave to lands of higher altitude. We were fortunate enough to stay with Rusty's good friend Paul in Louisville where he treated us like Kings. Saturday awoke to pretty chilling temps and nipple searing wind. 

We boomed down to Eldo and started in the sun on C'est la Vie. I led P1, plugging gear and freaking out the entire time. The crux on P2 was not gonna put out easily and spit Chris off before he finally sent it. Rusty and I both gave it a few goes, but opted to pull thru and move on. 

Marching up the long trail to Yellow Spur. 

We can see a team of two on P2 but figure they will be well ahead of we three by the time we get climbing. All three of us reach the top of P2 before their follower even starts P3. Not good. After much cussing and cold ankles, we reach the top of P3 and then traverse right and bail of The Great Zot. We watch the gumbies fumble around as we descend the trail. Bailing was a good call.

We wrap up the day playing on P1 of Genesis. Chris all but floats it, and Rusty does as well. I push thru the small overhang and the first face move smacks me down like the smell of a week old salmon left on top of a fridge and I end up working the move for 30 frustrating minutes. Climbing up, no being able to pull the move, climbing back down to a good rest. F#ck ass shovel cock naked gardener rash!!! This move is giving me hell. I eventually finish it with ease and rap off to end the day. If my arms would not have been so pumped, I would have spent some extra time punching myself in the face for awhile. 

The Nebraskans finished up the day with beer, crackers, cheese and smoked salmon. Then we had dinner consisting of blue fish, and most importantly, more beer. I find out later that I missed the best party in Golden over at Arnold and Adam's pad.

I get the great Adam Peters on the horn in the morning and meet him in the Eldo parking lot. He looks like he is either ready to go clubbin' or climbing with his coffee, rolled smokes, plaid golfing hat and baby blue v-neck t-shirt. If that isn't a reason to want to tie in with this guy, I don't know what would be. We hump up to Red Garden Wall, rack up for the day and head up the sketchy 90 foot? ramp to where the pitches start. Chris, Paul and Rusty eat up Rosy Crucifiction and me and Adam plow up Super Slab. At the top of P1, Adam and I find out that we are putting on a total f#ck show for the day. We don't have any runners, no cordlette for anchors, no lockers, and a few more cams wouldn't be bad either. We only laugh it off and push on. After some hiccups, and Adam's 17 minute and 27 second deciphering of the crux (He was probably just up there texting people- Hey peeps, wut r u up 2? I b crimpin slab action!) we get to the top and share ropes with another couple of dudes on our rap down. Adam adds the finale to our show by kicking his shoe off while he is rappelling. I watch it sail by like a piece of key lime pie. Luckily, I came prepared for this show with another pair of shoes on my harness. Why? I don't know.

Clambering down, Adam finds his shoe and get back to where we dropped our packs. We find Chris there napping in the sun and we all chat about our day. Chris also had time to jump on P1 of The Naked Edge and was still school girl giddy about it. 

We load into Adam's rig and cruise to Louisville. Hanging in Paul's driveway we eat home made meat balls I brought and swill a few beers. An amazing end to a really good day. We say our good byes and load in for the trip back to Omaha. The afternoon sun is on my skin and reminds me how nice the spring time can be, and that I got fried today while climbing. Little do I know, in 6 hours I will be doing jumping jacks above the interstate and hitching rides from Judy, the husband throwing, U-Haul driver. Abandoned like a new born baby girl in China. Unbelievable.

Run East: Embellishment Unnecessary

By moonlight on the side of the road, I squint in the darkness, catching litter's reflection in the dry grass. Plastic bottles, beer cans, napkins, and a ready-mix concrete bag begin to compile my cairn out of the objects and I use a rock to scratch into the pavement. With my fingers still sore from Super Slab, I scar RUN EAST into the asphalt. I blow hot air into my hands as wind sneaks through my t-shirt and chalk coated Dickies. I sit crossed legged on the pavement on an unmarked exit, stranded in the middle of nowhere Nebraska. 

The end to a steller weekend of climbing in Colorado comes to a close with yet another 8 hour drive back to home in Omaha, Nebraska. These days the drive breezes by; four hours, refill and piss, 4 hours and there is the front range, climb, repeat in reverse. It is later than a usual Sunday drive home, Chris, Rusty and I decided it was worth the late return to get in some extra pitches before returning to Nebraska, and we were right, the weather was great and the climbing was totally so wet (Awesome). Fresh visions of the Yellow Spur, Genesis, Rosy Crucifiicition, and C'est la Vie still dance in our heads. No epics, just good climbs and stories.

We are all pretty tired and we keep to ourselves as the sun disappears and the blur of traffic dances in the night. I snooze, text friends, and try to find comfortable positions to sleep that do not cause my sore legs to cramp up in the back seat of Chris's sedan. Chris is growing weary and Rusty offers his services to drive, Chris rubs his eyse and agrees to the switch. He exits I-80 on to an unmarked exit and parks the car. Rusty jumps out, as does Chris to let out a quick wiz and switch places, I clean up the back seat in lue to letting Chris crash in the back seat but he is fine with sitting up front. Just as they are getting into the car, I open my door to take quick leak myself and the door quietly shuts behind me. Standing by the back tire, I begin to do my business and the car shifts into first and hops forward a bit on its wheels, rolling slowly away from me. "Hah ha, funny guys," I think as I shake to the finish and put things away, the car accelerates across the intersection, shifts into second and beings to pick up more speed than I would think to stop 'the joke' and let us get on our way. I turn mid-zip up as the car begins to disappear down the entering ramp to the interstate. I don't even get a chance to run after them. My mind goes blank and my jaw drops. I begin to chuckle and a "What the fuck" slips from my lips. "No way!" I think. "No way! I can't believe this is happening. No way! Unbelievable!"

I can only bounce and giggle like rattley school girl at this point, not even able to fathom what just happened. Here I am in the black, clad in blue pants, a tight blue t-shirt, blue wool socks and luckily my approach kicks (not blue). I just got left behind! How the fuck did this happen? I bend over and tie my shoes in the dark and run across the bridge over the interstate to await the arrival of my 'friends' as they venture back west to get to get me. Minutes accumulate and I do jumping jacks to stay warm in the below freezing weather. I know it will be a few minutes for them to find somewhere to turn around but too many minutes continue to accumulate, and with the 'jacks grown damn lame, I pace the bridge troubled by the thought of what to do now. Where the hell are they? Do I wait for them to come back? Is it a good idea to run down the interstate? Why can't I have a climbing trip that does not include some form of epic? Where the hell are they? I sure wish I was wearing underwear. (As it would turn out I was not even noticed missing from the car for almost an hour, yes, someone who was in the back seat in the SAME DAMN CAR). I decide that I cannot stay where I am or I will start to freeze. I decide that I should leave a marker and run to the next town to call for help. Unbelievable I think as I jog back across the bridge, cars drive by apathetically below

My refuse cairn and I sit on the cold ground like a dead pile. How long have I been sitting here? Thirty minutes? Forty? Out of the corner of my eye, I catch a pair of large headlights approaching and I jump to my feet and wave the vehicle down. The tires of a U-Haul truck screech as the large truck and trailer come to a halt. I walk across the illuminated pavement as un-creepily as possible to the driver side door and peer into the vehicle. Inside sits Judy and her two sons. As her story goes, Judy is moving from Sydney to Lincoln that night and had earlier kicked her husband out of the U-Haul and had gotten off at this exit to turn around and to retrieve him from where she dumped him. I told her my story and she asked me How much had we guys been drinkin', what kinda of drugs had I taken that night, what did I do to piss them off, and if I wanted a dirty, stained blanket that was sitting at her feet to keep me warm. I refused the blanket and defended my climbing buddy's for some damn reason. "Well at least when I threw my husband out, I gave him his coat." Judy said. Unfortunately, I had not been treated with such a kind gesture. I asked to borrow her phone and as I flipped it open to see an image of Judy and two kids (But not the kids in the truck. Apparently she has 6 total. I guess these are just the ones she wanted to bring that night?) My mind draws blank to not only Chris's number, but anyone who could possibly help me get ahold of Chris. I remember my brother's digits and I call him. Judy yells at her kids and rambles on about a large cut on her finger from inside the cab. After I tell my brother about my situation, I lose track of the number of times he says, "Are you serious?" I tell him to give some people some calls to try and find Chris's number. I give my own phone, which is sitting casually in the back seat of the car that I am supposed to be in, a call and leave a message. "Um yeah, this is Lucas, I usually answer this phone, but I am currently standing where I was abandoned beside the road and can't get to the phone right now. Call this number back if you want to retrieve your Lucas. Thanks!" Unbelievable!

"Well, do you want me to stop at this exit again after I go get my husband and then I can give you a ride if you still need me to?" Asks Judy while exhaling a cloud of Camel smoke. The idea of waiting here, and involving a husband sounds like a bad idea and I convince Judy to take me to the next exit whose lights illuminate the horizon. I hop in the truck and share a seat with her two blond haired boys. I give them high fives and remind myself to wash my hands when I get a chance. The ride is short and warm and I greatly thank Judy for her hospitality but decide to at least wait 'til tomorrow to give her a call and thank her. No need to involve myself in her life any more tonight. She has got a cold husband (That she refers to him as "Dickhead" to her kids) an a half dozen rug rats to deal with. I run over to the Petro's at the York exit and look around inside for someone to yet again tell my story to. I shake my head, dig my hands into my pockets and push the door open with my hip. Unbelievable.

I find one of the store attendants and give her my spiel and again get the response of "What kind of drugs we been taking tonight?" as she directs me into the arcade where her son has her cell phone. Her son Andy takes a break from the arcade game and tells me I need to find new friends after I tell him my situation and lets me use the phone. I call and give my brother an update on my location. I wander around the gas station checking out sterling and turquoise belt buckles when I come across a pay-by-the-minute internet kiosk. Luckily I have my wallet and I go and get 20 bucks from the ATM, I get charged $3.95 for the withdrawal and decide to include that into Chris and Rusty's asshole tax that I plan on taking in compensation for their warmhearted friendship. I get online and pull Chris's number off his email signature (Oh did I mention that Chris is a civil engineer and Rusty is a college professor? Normally these types of people are thorough and intelligent.) and give him a call. I can't think of anything better to say than, "Yeah hi, umm... this is Lucas." After his laughing stops, I tell him where I am and that I will be patiently awaiting his arrival. I drink shitty truck stop coffee and look at shitty truck stop merchandise as I wait. I jingle a rock in my pocket, the same one I used to inscribe "RUN EAST," and I search for a keepsake for my friends to pass the time. I come across some Nebraska post cards, and some cheap sun glasses, and a toy truck with the tagline (I shit you not!) "Watch me drive away, then turn around and come right back." Though the trucks are tempting I cheaply opt for the post cards and pay for them, slipping them into the back pocket of my Dickies. I look at my sun burnt face in the reflection sunglasses and reminisce the day's givings. Unbelievable.

Chris and Rusty eventually pull up to the Petro's pump, needing gas again due to the extended adventure. I step outside and just stare at them. Both fall to the ground laughing hysterically, and I can't help but join with a sheepish smile. I yell, "I have feelings you know!" into the windy night. Chris can't stop grinning as he wipes tears from his eyes and fills up on gas. I casually slip into the back seat and let out a sigh as I pop a chocolate Cadbury egg into my mouth. It's candy shell collapses under the force of my teeth. I whisper "unbelievable" from my chocolate infused breath.

While driving back, we decide the situation was a "perfect storm." Somehow all the god damn stars were aligned and the car doors were shut at just the right time and everyone was just a little bit too tired to pay attention to details. Good thing no one suffered too much for it all! I add in that this is definitely the worse instance of getting caught with my wiener hanging out that I can remember. I pull my laptop out as I sit in the back seat where I belong. I push the power button to begin to record the night's adventure. "Unbelievable" crosses my chapped lips as the screen illuminates my face. Chris leans back and apologizes again as a laughing Rusty tries not to swerve off the road. Chris asks me if I am going to use some creative embellishment on the evening's story. I respond, "You know Chris, I don't think that any is necessary in this instance." More laughing ensues. I am left to write as probability and chance swirl in and out of conversation in the front seat. I chalk up yet another epic climbing trip, unbelievable.

New Interview Process

I would like to develop a new interview process. This process would take the instant thought of punching myself in the face out of my head after every ho-hum interview I partake in and perhaps make it end on a positive note. The interview would still be like any other one until after you shake the employer's hand and leave. At this point you would then get to dwell on the stupid shit you just said and jot down some ideas about what you really would have wanted to say and any other shoulda/couldas you can think of. Thirty minutes later, you'd go and meet up again with the person you just left and get a chance to clear things up, add instances of how cool you are,  and apologize for being such a mumbling idiot half an hour ago. 

Note - This process can also be applied to meeting people of the opposite sex, people you admire, or when you say good bye to someone at the end of the night. They may then refrain from considering your earlier douchebaggery a trait of your hindering personality. 

This is how it all began...

No, thats not true. I think it starts tomorrow.