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brucewaynebrady-blog · 7 years ago

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Prompt 3 - Write a story that begins with an alarm clock going off.

5/11/18

This blog is a part of a series of prompts that I’m using to write more often, taken from the book The Writer’s Block by Jason Rekulak. I pick one from a random page, and see where it leads. I was inspired by some friends doing art challenges, so, I made a writing challenge for myself. Enjoy!

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Taking Off “AAANK!!!!! AAANK!!!!! AAANK!!!!! AAANK!!!!!”

The alarm clock’s audible assault of sound bounced off the walls of James’ bedroom, shattering his sleep, and the peaceful silence. Eyes wide, he flung his covers to the floor and galloped across the room. He punched the button a few times, making sure the clock had no chance at coming back to life, but the red numbers on the digital display were enough to keep him awake: “2:30 A.M.”

His flight for California left at 6:00 a.m. and that was after a 2 hour drive to the airport. He’d packed the night before, but the excitement of the trip had kept him awake for most of the evening. Three hours of sleep would have to do for now, and maybe a quick shower would provide an energy boost.

Groggy, James yawned, grabbing a few things on the way to the bathroom, the sounds of a television in the living room fading in the background as he walked down the hall. His friend Paul had been staying with him and offered to drive him to the airport, then house sit for a few days. Paul currently had no place to stay or job, and was thankful to help out and have a place to crash. James, meanwhile, thought he might get some sleep in the car on the way. “We should have plenty of time. I’m ready when you are, man” Paul said casually, watching a show about alien abductions, his feet comfortably wiggling side to side on the coffee table. “Hm? Mmmm….yuh” James grunted, not awake enough to form words yet. After throwing his laptop bag and a backpack in the backseat, they jumped on the highway. James’ mood alternated between excitement for the trip and ignoring his body’s demand for more sleep. Paul’s sea-foam green Accord rocketed down the highway, racing to Hobby Airport in Houston. The lack of other drivers at this time of night made the trip a lot smoother, but it didn’t keep James from checking his phone incessantly, wondering how long the TSA line would take. After his shower, a stop at a drive-thru, and getting gas, they had left at 3:15. Plenty of time

As they got closer to the airport, the highway started to converge into what looked like a smaller city. All lanes led to the airport, the tail-lights of cars ahead dotting the way forward, making it their only destination for the upcoming exits. “Gate B, that’s where I’m headed” James said, checking his itinerary. “Got it. And in record time!’ Paul replied, always priding himself on his ability to drive faster than others around him. James was happy to make it in one piece and thought that his friend was really racing himself, the other drivers always unaware they had entered his imaginary competitions. James grabbed his bags, and started toward the entrance. “See you in a few days man! Don’t have any wild parties without me” he smiled, knowing that his friend would at worst raid his fridge. “Orgy at your place? Got it. Have a safe trip!” Paul shouted back, driving away to possibly break a land speed record. James checked his phone to see “5:23 A.M.” staring back at him. He rounded the corner and saw Gate B not far away, with a line that stretched around the corner. There had to be at least 60 people waiting, to funnel into 4 lanes at the TSA check-in. After 10 minutes of standing in the same place, James could hear the grumblings of others that this “was ridiculous” and “how could they not have more staff here?” He moved to see the head of the line, where one lone, elderly woman in a TSA uniform,

slowly….

inspected…..

every……

one. At this pace, he would be lucky to get to the head of the line in time. He started to hear people discussing their flight times, most of which were later. Wondering if it would work, he said, a bit too loud “I’ll never make my 6:00 o’clock. I NEED THIS JOB!” “Your flight is earlier than mine. You can go ahead of me, if it’s ok with everyone else?” said a man, further ahead in line. Several people between shaked their heads yes, and miraculously, waved James ahead of them. “THANK YOU! I really appreciate it!” he said, moving up a bit. A few more people started asking about times, pointing at James saying “I think he needs to go ahead. His is at 6” He moved up further, until he was behind a woman, with long dark hair, about 10 spots away from the front.

“5:45 A.M.” his phone display reported to him.

Several TSA agents showed up then, and started to get the lines flowing. “I can’t believe this line. I have to be on this flight in 15 minutes and I’ve been here forever”, said the woman in front of James. “Me too” he said. “Wonder if they would make an exception for us..” James trailed off out of ideas. The woman turned and he saw that she was around his age, in her early 20s and stunning; her skin an olive complexion, her eyes large, brown and right now, concerned. James was alert and trying to think fast. He’d gotten this far. What was the next solution to this? The line moved up quickly and the woman was next. She turned to James, “So, we need to both get on this flight. I wonder if we can get out of line together?” James, without thinking, blurted out “Maybe if we were married?” and laughed nervously. Did I really just say that? he thought, wanting to teleport back to the safety of his bed. “Yes! That’s it. You’re my husband when they call me up. Good idea!” she replied. James, shocked that she agreed, responded “Well, let’s catch...our….flight”

The TSA agent waved for the next person to step up, and they both rushed to the checkpoint. James, on only his second flight ever, hadn’t been paying attention to the process of removing shoes and belts. They both rushed through the motions, he grabbed his belt and shoes in hand, slung his bags across his shoulder, and they made a dash to the gate around the corner. “Come on!” the dark-haired woman said to James, who was making a mental note to cut down on drive-thru from now on, as he struggled to make the short jog. They rounded the corner, to see an airline employee walking away from a closed terminal door. “6:05”, the clock above the door taunted them, with this update. After pleading with the woman at the gate, they were told that the doors couldn’t be opened but they would be placed on the next immediate flight, in an hour. They agreed and exchanged their boarding passes. After plopping down on some nearby seats, James started to put his shoes on, the mystery woman sitting next to him. “I’m Nashita, by the way” she said, extending her hand. “James. Nice to meet you.” “Well, James, we have an hour to kill. Want to get some overpriced snacks from the bookstore over there?” “Let’s go for it. I’m not going anywhere anytime soon” After leaving the bookstore, they sat, and watched others shuffle through the airport for a few seconds. Nashita turned to him. “So, why was my new fake husband in such a rush? Where are you headed to?” she raised an eyebrow, waiting for his response. “Well, I’m heading to San Francisco for a job opportunity, and vacation really. Sight-seeing, tourist stuff, but mainly want to land this writing job for a tech company.” “Ooh, a writer, huh? Anything I might have read?” James hesitated, chuckling to himself, “Well, not yet, unless you follow my blog and random freelance stuff I’ve been doing for a while. I’ve been reviewing movies for sites, and writing my own stuff on the side. This job is a chance at a full-time position, in a city I’ve never been to. And, I figured, I might as well see Alcatraz and the Golden Gate Bridge. What about you?” Nashita nodded “Well, good luck with that. I’m heading to L.A. I have some friends that meetup every year. It started as a birthday party for one of my best friends, and now, we just make it a point to get together since we don’t see each other often.”

“Sounds like a good excuse to have a party” James said, fumbling with his water bottle, for the first time, not concerned with what time it was. He found himself hoping if anything, the morning would slow down, so he could talk with her more. “We….know how to have a good time” Nashita laughed, brushing her hair back and getting as comfy as she could, in the plastic airport seat. She told him that her parents owned a few stores in the Houston area and of her plans to go to law school. He shared with her a lifelong interest in writing, and how it was something he’s always done, no matter what regular job he had to pay the bills; writing was always a constant. He scribbled down his personal blog site for her to check out and they noticed the hour was almost up. They boarded the next flight, and sat together. James, again was met with happiness to be on his way, but now wished they shared the same destination. He couldn’t remember the last time he so interested in just talking to someone, especially a stranger. He usually went out of his way to avoid social interaction, never knowing what to say. Words seemed to be more useful when he had time to edit them, but he’d found her delightful and easy to talk to.

Nashita took the window seat and they sat, waiting for the flight to take off. The woman in front of Nashita, leaned her seat back, just enough to make getting up a chore. As James started to laugh, the seat next to him was taken by a large man, his elbow spilling over into James’ seat and ribs. Nashita covered her mouth, and tried to suppress her amusement at James’ discomfort. They sat there for a bit, laughing at being trapped together, on this unexpected flight.

They talked more on the plane, and laughed secretly at the random activity around them. The woman in front of them had fallen asleep, the human bookend guy on the other side seemed to be engrossed in the newspaper, making occasional grunting sounds in response to the headlines, and an older lady was losing a verbal fight with her son, threatening to dispense justice when the plane landed.

The plane stopped in Phoenix for a few transfers. Nashita exited first, and quickly got lost in the shuffle. James figured she was off to her terminal and was surprised to see her waiting for him as he exited. They started walking through the airport, and realized their gates were in different directions. James stood for a second, watching Nashita pause, smiling back at him. “Well, I’m heading this way” she gestured with her purse. “It was nice missing a flight with you” James grinned, “Yeah. You too. We gotta do it again sometime...I mean” He had no idea what he was saying. The moment made him nervous a bit. Hell she made him nervous, but in a good way. He wondered if he should ask for her number, her Facebook, social media of some kind…? He hadn’t done this in a while. “Good luck with the writing gig. Maybe I’ll get to read it someday!” Nashita said, disappearing around the corner. James stood there, realizing he had to head to his gate too, or he would definitely be sitting in Phoenix, without her this time. He also wondered why he was thinking so damn much. He flew around the corner that Nashita had just taken.

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brucewaynebrady-blog · 7 years ago

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Prompt 2 - Write about a library or bookstore that has a special significance to you. Which authors did you discover there?

5/8/1/8

Paul’s

Paul’s Bookstore, a quaint, locally owned place filled with magazines and used paperbacks, was my first gateway to many entertaining adventures, both written and illustrated. The store was maybe fifteen minutes from our house, and owned by a bearded, baseball-cap wearing man, named... Paul. Big surprise, right?

Paul appeared to be in his 50s, his beard a grey nest of tangled hair, with white streaks peaking through. He wore button down shirts, with square patterns and spoke with a friendly, yet gruff voice; his southern charm in every greeting to customers, with a “how y’all doing?” His sons would sometimes work the store with him, but you could bet money that Paul was the guy ringing up your selections most of the time. The bookstore was a one story, brick building, with a single, glass door entrance on the left. Walking in led to a view of Paul, sitting behind his giant wooden counter on the right; either reading the newspaper, glasses nearly sliding off his nose, or watching tv, propping himself up on folded arms. A wall of magazines stretched from the left side all the way to the back, where my motivation for future trips would be; comic books. I’d walk straight to this part of the store, where I first discovered Wolverine, Batman, the X-Men and so many other characters, writers and artists that would shape my life. Jim Lee and Chris Claremont would be just as important to me as Michael Crichton and Laura Joh Rowland. Paul had the biggest titles, but only a handful of copies of each, and another rack of random older stuff that was traded in. I found a Robotech 3D comic there before I ever knew what Robotech or anime really were. This was the place where I also found novelizations of movies; which led me to read some films that I hadn’t seen or revisit some that I loved. Kids in school wondered why I would read a movie, or often, read anything at all that wasn’t an assignment. Paul was just glad to see kids reading, period.

And buying stuff to help him pay for a new hat probably. The far right wall, across from magazines about guns and gardens, held rentals for video games and movies. I didn’t have a gaming console at the time, so I’d walk around and look at all of the games I wanted to play, and eventually browse the meager selection of movies. Walk far enough down this wall, and there was an opening to a room with more movies, but you had to be eighteen to walk in. So, I did what any other young guy going through puberty would do, walk by and peek in quickly. Yup, Paul’s adult section was a part of the store and I didn’t have to wonder too much what was in there. Sometimes, I would pick up a novel with a steamy scene and felt like I’d gotten away with some magic secret. Buy a book because it’s about a ninja assassin traveling to the United States? Score! This story has martial arts and sex? Book of the year. No ID required. Clearly, I had made a wise selection.

Paul’s Bookstore was a part of my life for a while, maybe a decade or so. I would visit other stores and comic book shops, but, as long as Paul’s was open, I had to stop by. This place was a part of my origin story, as much as I enjoyed reading the origins of other characters that I found in that building. Business would slow down, as the larger bookstores started to rebuild, with coffee shops and much larger selections. Paul’s old location now has been transformed into a few other ventures, but none have lasted as long. The memory of that place, and Paul’s bearded smile though, will stay with me forever.

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brucewaynebrady-blog · 7 years ago

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So excited to show this to you guys :D

Kylo Ren Portrait [april.26, 2018] by toira-creates

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brucewaynebrady-blog · 7 years ago

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5/5/1/8

Prompt 1 - Tell the story behind your nickname

Point of Reference

“So, we can’t call you Anthony. What’s your name gonna be on the radio?”

Mike, the Program Director of local rock station Big Dog 106, and host of the popular afternoon “Drive at 5” request show, was waiting for my response. He would become my boss, mentor and friend, while showing me the ropes of radio. After nine months of running live radio show boards, organizing prizes, helping setup events, answering phones and taking care of paperwork, Mike came to me with an opportunity be on air, a lifelong dream. Mike, used his full name, yet it flowed naturally. But, a guy named Anthony announcing the next Metallica song just didn’t sound right. I needed an answer.

“Um…” I hesitated, as I started to think…

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As a kid, I figured radio had to be the most rewarding job in the world. I imagined endless amounts of free music, access to the best concerts and getting paid to take song requests. Radio DJs, known only by their voices, have chances for anonymity; which seemed like a secret identity. You could entertain people, and walk around undetected, unless someone recognized your voice. Some had extravagant comic book names, from Wolfman Jack to our own local Steven Wild “The Love Child”, a previous 106 DJ I grew up listening to. For all of the parts of radio I’d envisioned, a DJ name, had never occurred to me.

Big Dog hosted a party bus for ticket winners and employees to see my favorite metal band at the time, Slipknot, in Houston. As we waited between bands on the venue floor, moments away from Slipknot taking the stage, a guy on his cell phone walked by me, looking up into the bleacher seats. He was yelling into his phone, pacing side to side impatiently. “YEAH MAN, I’M ON THE FLOOR. DOWN HERE” he said, gesturing frantically to a point in the crowd. Realizing he was trying to find someone, I stood next to him, waving my hands wildly, like the giant, inflatable noodle men at car lots. He looked at me, confused for a second, then seemed to have an idea. “I’M NEXT TO THE BLACK GUY!” He blurted out, then calmly paused. “Okay, see you in a few” he happily responded, walking away from us. My friends, Chris and Shawn, stared at me, mouths open in shock.

“You...you were a point of reference...at a metal concert” Shawn stammered. “That guy’s friend found him because he was next to THE black guy.” I guess so…” I casually responded, just glad I could help out. My friends were in shock and we laughed about that for the rest of the night.

I was often the only black person at a lot of concerts I went to. It never bothered me, but I was always aware that I stood out. Mike told me at one show, that he could literally “spot” me in the crowd. The two of us would use “Spot” as an inside joke, and other employees in the radio station heard it. They figured it was a part of the theme of Big Dog, and Spot was a character, the classic name for cartoon dogs at firehouses, which was fine with me. ------------------------------------------------------------------------

After thinking about my name for a few seconds, I looked at Mike, chuckled and said “What about Spot?” Mike squinted at me, asking if I was okay with it and I told him yes; it was perfect! It would definitely stand out and I had gotten used to it. I started to book gigs in clubs as DJ Spot and for years, some people were introduced to me that way by bookers and friends. I always greeted people as Anthony, not wanting to meet someone as Spot. I figured if they found out, fine, but that was a part of me; not who I was 24-7. A few people still only refer to me as Spot and have never known my real name.

I ran into an old co-worker a week ago. She’s a waitress at a bar that I DJ at currently, but used to work at the first club I started at, almost 6 years ago. We recognized each other instantly and started chatting, but her name eluded my memory. Finally, as we prepared to close the bar, I had to confess, that I didn’t remember her name. She laughed off my embarrassment, saying that it was ok, since we did drink a lot back then, and told me her name again. I thanked her, recognizing it instantly and continued tearing down my equipment.

“But, I never forgot your name,” she said, as I was about to walk out the door. “Spot! Nobody can forget that.”

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brucewaynebrady-blog · 7 years ago

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youtube

Besides writing, I stream games on Twitch and work on video editing, This is a promo for our weekly fight stream, Maple Night Fights, Mondays, on https://Twitch.tv/BruceWayneBrady I’ve decided to use my gaming streams as a way to learn more video editing techniques. Enjoy! Featured in this video Anthony aka BruceWayneBrady (https://twitter.com/BruceWayneBrady) https://www.twitch.tv/brucewaynebrady

Dennis aka DennisLA1219 (https://twitter.com/DennisLA1219) https://www.twitch.tv/dennisla1219

Music - Ballin Intro by Thomas Rakowitz

https://twitter.com/Rockyowitz

https://Soundcloud.com/Rockyowitz

#Tekken 7 #noctis lucis caelum #Tekken Noctis #Tekken Akuma #Akuma #Noctis v Akuma Tekken #Twitch #Maple Night Fights

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brucewaynebrady-blog · 7 years ago

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Missing

I miss random alerts, messages simply saying “thinking about you” I miss getting lost in conversation late into the a.m., somewhere after 2 I miss inside jokes, & silly, private nicknames I miss the endless smack talk, while playing video games I miss having someone help me laugh at my own mistakes I miss hugs & sweet words on tougher days I miss feeling giddy, just when I see a name I miss someone telling me they feel the same I miss new experiences, & encouragement to take chances I miss pretending, like I wasn’t already gonna join in dances I miss sitting comfortably in silence sometimes, watching tv I miss the way someone would just smile & look at me I miss leaving my awkwardness behind I miss someone telling me, “it’s fine” I miss someone really understanding, who I am I miss someone saying I was their man I miss the nervous tingles, of a first embrace I miss the intense passion, when they looked at me that way I would say, that most of all, I miss you But, I miss having someone to send this to 4-18-18 9:15a.m. (Woke up this morning with this in my head. Guess deep down, had to get this out. It’s not really about anyone specific, just an overall vibe that I’ve really been wanting to find again I feel better after writing this. I’m not sad about these feelings, but relieved that this is the most honest I’ve been with myself in a while.)

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brucewaynebrady-blog · 7 years ago

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Montage

4-17-18 9:45 a.m.

This is an interesting time in my life. I’m really taking an honest assessment of who I am and what I’m doing. I feel, for the first time, I’m wanting to pursue things I’ve been afraid to. At the time I’m writing this, I’m two months away from a ten year work anniversary, at a job that I’m grateful for, but have no interest in. I’ve become comfortable with getting steady pay, being able to take care of bills and dabble in my hobbies. But, I haven’t felt fulfilled in years. I’ve been dying a slow death of routine, monotony and excessive stress. But, if I’m honest with myself, maybe this is what I’ve needed. To have something that I just can’t stand, until I push myself to move towards what I really want. I’ve rationalized so many excuses for years, to keep myself in a safe bubble. I always thought I was too indecisive to pick one thing to aim for, but the reality is, I’ve always known the type of career that grabbed me. Working in creative fields has always been my calling, but never knowing if I’ll make enough to survive has always scared me from going forward. Growing up in a house where every dollar was important created a fearful relationship with money. Being able to pay for basic needs and then indulge a little was always possible, but most of my family also found jobs, (like a lot of people) that took care of their monthly needs. There’s nothing wrong with that but at some point, I’ve been unable to resist the pull of at least diving into my interests and seeing if I can start a new chapter of my life with them. I had dreams of wanting to work in radio as a kid. Through chance meetings of people that would become lifelong friends, I would do that very thing, and work for almost six years, at my favorite local rock station. I never made a lot of money there, so I always had at least one other job. But, I’ve never felt more like I was in the perfect place for me, than at that time. There were problems that I solved on the fly, from thinking outside the box and using technical skills, that told me I was the right person for the job. Even living in the building during a hurricane, and helping field phone calls from people needing information, made me feel like I was a part of something important. We were using this medium of radio to reach out and help our fellow neighbors, who wanted to share and seek information. It was one of the most rewarding experiences of my life, to feel that I was good at something and able to help others. The last time I felt that I was doing something, so suited for me, was a few years ago. My friend Scott was going to audition for a reality show. He needed someone to shoot a video, edit it and send it away to ABC. I was, of course, too busy with work, a pattern that sadly occurs too often still. So, Scott recruited some friends, a Flip camera and took a weekend to film. He brought the camera to me and asked me to edit it. I sat down on a Saturday and begin, what would be, a twelve hour process, to create a five minute video. The wealth of knowledge from that day has stayed with me since. I learned why Flip cameras went out of business; their forced proprietary editing software made it a nightmare to do much with their videos, especially put them into another proper editing program. I spent most of the early hours trying to convert their format into something I could work with. Also, the quality was awful. I’m convinced the video would have looked better with cell phone footage...from the 90s. One of the best moments was searching for a technical question on Google, and finding a link to an old anime music video message board. The exact question I had was being answered, by a name I knew all too well; PantherJRoll. My old friend, Justin, who had passed away recently, was giving me the exact answer I needed. The guy that taught me how to use video editing software, by making anime music videos with me, was still teaching me, from the afterlife. I smiled, looked up and thanked him. “Really, J? You’re still showing me how to do stuff?” I chuckled at how great the moment was and, with Justin’s help, knew I was on the right path. Since this video was for a reality show, I decided to maybe look at one while the files were converting. I didn’t watch these things but if I could make it look legitimate, maybe it would help. I put Jersey Shore on the TV for the rest of the night, noticing the quick edits, more than the ridiculous people. I sat with the grainy footage, hoping that whoever saw this at ABC was floored by the editing so much, the film quality wouldn’t hurt the project. At one point, realizing I had been working for hours, I sat and thought, this is what I’m meant to be doing. Now and always. Editing, creating, giving birth to an idea. Scott came by after 2 a.m., I gave him the video and wished him luck. He later told me he had made it to the next stage, because someone loved his video.

Someone, at ABC, loved MY video. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l2I84DetS3I&t=1s It was another sign that I needed to do this.

Yet, here I am years later, not editing videos professionally. I enjoyed the moment but didn’t take the leap. I’ve always struggled with my own self-motivation. And, as nice as it is to have someone ask about my work or compliment it, I have a daily hurdle; myself. I have to sit down and make time to do the work. I have the ideas, I need to push them out. I need to remember that feeling of finding creative solutions and finishing a project, everytime I wake up at 4.am., shuffling off to do something I loathe. I have to love my interests and not just hate the other things. I need to fuel the creative instead of wasting energy being disappointed that I’m at the same job, and very much, same place in life. I had the same moment, on the last weekend of 2017, as I sat down for 3 days, to make a montage video with a friend. She had an idea of taking clips from our friends’ video game streams to celebrate some of the best moments of the year. I remember seeing her start on it, alone, for a full day. Seeing that she wanted this done in time for New Year’s Day, and also thinking I could help, I asked if she wanted a hand. I was surprised that she did and once I sat down to look at a video program, for the first time, in at least five years, I wondered if I could do it at all.

We spent the weekend in a trench, fighting a weird new version of the program, learning how to do things on the fly. I don’t know how many hours we worked but I loved every second of it. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MSG8XfLJ-94 That feeling was back again and I knew it wasn’t a fluke. I’m so proud of the work we did on that video and so thankful that she helped me find my way back to my passion. I had to figure out how to pursue this. So, instead of throwing myself into a financial nightmare, I’ll keep saving money, and curbing reckless spending habits. I’ll have to fight to sit down, and write more, edit more, and build a resume of passion and experience. I’ll have to create a way to transition to the next phase of my life, instead of waiting for it. However it comes, I have to be ready for it. I need to truly experience my life, instead of continue to safely watch the world go by in the windows, on the way to my bland routine. Why am I writing this? Who is it for? I want to write more and it’s really for me. If you’re reading this and got something out of it, great. I’m not over here pretending I have any answers, just thinking about where I want to be more these days. If you’re in a place that you’re happy with, that’s great! I haven’t been for years, but know this, I AM working on it. If you don’t see me as much or hear from me, I might be at home relaxing. Or, I could be fiercely trying to finish an edit. If nothing else, I have to try, because not doing anything is a choice, and one that I have to part ways with. Either way, we only get one shot at life and I can’t fix missed opportunities by editing them later.

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