shipbuilding

I keep hearing about this new radio station, INDIE 103.1. It’s supposed to be giving KROQ a run for its money, but we can’t hear it in the 626. I haven’t tuned in to regular radio, other than NPR or KFWB, since I got XM last year, but I had to go from the 626 out to the 310 last Wednesday, and I thought I’d listen to KROQ and INDIE, and write up a comparison of the two.
Since I’m writing this for blogging.la, I figured it would be extra “LA” of me to bring my iBook over to Starbucks to write it up. There are a half dozen people here with me, three of them also on laptops, one of them this totally insane homeless guy who I see wandering around this area all the time. A few weeks ago, Anne and I were walking out of a restaurant, and he yelled something at her about how he was too evil for her food.
I’m a little pissed that the homeless guy is filling an entire corner of the place with the stink of greasy hair and dirt, and he’s also in the most comfortable chair, in the corner that gets the best sun, where I was hoping to sit today.
Then I sip my Sumatra, take a bite of my muffin, realize that my laptop cost more than this guy will see in a year, and sit in the familiarity of Liberal Guilt™.
Aimee Mann sings “Save Me,” (the only thing about Magnoila that I didn’t totally hate), two men (possibly lovers, or on their way to being ex-lovers) sit silently at a table between me and stinky homeless guy and stare into their lattes. One of them keeps looking at me, and it makes me self-conscious. Is he looking at me because he thinks he knows me? Because he’s seen me on TV? Because, in my Kung Fu Records T-shirt, worn over my Hanes thermal shirt, Chuck Taylors and carefully mussed hair I look sexy and alluring? I self-consciously twist my wedding ring around my finger.
A few moments pass and they leave. It’s weird. They both stand up at exactly the same moment, without a word, as if they’ve shared some silent communication that only lovers can understand. As they walk out the door, a woman storms in past them, yelling into her cell phone. ” . . . oblem, Jerry! You have an obligation to –”
Everyone except Stinky looks up at her, and she lowers her voice. “Well, I’m not going to discuss this with you here!” she says, and slams the phone shut.
She forces a smile and walks to the counter, where she places an order in a quiet, barely-controlled voice that I can’t hear.
Stinky coughs, which quickly turns into a violent hacking. A woman in line puts a protective arm around her young child, and tells him not to stare. Stinky gets up, and staggers outside. He doesn’t return, and I think about moving to his / my chair, but the stink still hangs over that corner. I stay where I am. A man in a tweedy jacket, cotton shirt and bright blue tie sits down next to me, and starts working on a crossword puzzle from the paper. I click click clack on my iBook:
A white van pulled out ahead of me right before the 110. I grew up watching CHiPs, so white vans terrify me: each one contains a potential kidnapper, and at any moment, the back doors could explode open and release a motorcycle rider who will create, and then escape unharmed from, a 50 car pile up.
I write for close to 30 minutes before I look up, and realize that Tweedy Jacket has fallen asleep. His chin sits heavily upon his chest, and his hands are folded in his lap. Why did this guy come to Starbucks to fall asleep over his partially-completed Crossword?
I study him, trying to put together an interesting character background. Is he a salesman? Maybe from a nearby furniture store? Over here on his lunch break. He didn’t make his sales quota last month, and February is his last chance to get some blue boxes filled in next to his name on the white board that surely hangs in some back room. Does he ever finish the crossword? Sometimes. It’s a small victory for him, but one he relishes. Suddenly, his head POPS UP! He looks straight at me with sleep-clouded eyes. They are bright blue, and resigned. My own eyes dart down to his puzzle, and back to my own table. When I steal another glance, one hand cups his chin, while the other taps his pen.
A few minutes later, his digital watch chirps twice to mark the top of the hour. He looks down at it, sighs heavily, and carefully folds his puzzle. He puts it in a pocket inside his jacket, and slowly walks out the door.
I write for another twenty minutes before I get stuck. I can’t recall how to spell “Yahtzee.” Is it Yahtzee? Yachtzee? Yhatzee? I don’t have T*Mobile, so I can’t hit the Internet to find out. I’ll have to trust my instincts: “Yahtzee” looks the least wrong, so I’ll go with that:
"Where it's at! I've got two turntables and a microphone . . . "
Oh, I see that we're flashing back all the way to the halcyon days of 1996. This is my biggest complaint with KROQ's whole "Flashback" criteria: seven years old does not a flashback make, you guys. Does this mean that, when the summer rolls around, we'll be flashing back to the acoustic version of Staind's Outside?
I looked down at the radio, and saw that Fred on XM 44 was playing Joy Division's Twenty-four.
Yahtzee! ADVANTAGE: XM.
It’s good that I don’t have Internet here. Internet has been a HUGE distraction recently, and I haven’t had the self-discipline to just focus, write, and turn it off. Fark, Metafilter, and Cursor beckon like Sirens.
A couple in their mid-30s sits down in Stinky’s chair, which I realize now is a love seat. They exude sexual energy. They must be new to each other. There’s no way they’re having an affair — they’re far too brazen for that — but they clearly can’t wait to get their clothes off. I’m am violently jealous of their passion for one another, and it derails my ability to write.
I sit here and drink my coffee, which is getting cold and bitter(how appropriate). A Starbucks guy runs a sweeper across the floor around me, and beneath my feet.
“Are you a writer?” he asks.
“I hope so,” I tell him. He sort of recoils from me, and I feel bad. It’s not his fault that I haven’t written anything in over a week. It’s not his fault my sweet and kind 12 year-old stepson has been replaced with a surly, disrespectful podperson. It’s not his fault that this couple’s wonderful, supernova passion for each other is what I want and lack more than anything else on earth. Maybe it’s the grey sky, the cold February day, or Stinky stinking up my chair . . . but I can’t feel passion for anything these days. I am a man in his thirties, snapping at a boy in his twenties, because I used to be him.
“I mean . . . I’m trying. I’ve done some good stuff in the past, but right now I’m in a bit of a rut.” I say.
“Oh, well, I hope you find your way out,” he says, kindly. No harm, no foul.
We-Can’t-Wait-To-Fuck get up. She’s flushed, and he’s grinning. They hurriedly gather up their cups, and slam dunk them into the trash on their way out.
I crumple up my muffin bag, and free throw it into the trash can. It sails through the air, trailing crumbs, and hits the side. It skips into the corner, past the door. I pick it up, and see that We-Can’t-Wait-To-Fuck are standing by his car. I know it’s his because he’s leaning against the driver’s door, and she’s pressed up against him. They’re making out, right there in the parking lot, with the reckless abandon that blind passion brings to a couple.
Gods, I fucking hate them.
No I don’t. I hate myself. I hate this rut. I need to warm up my coffee.
I give the Barista a dollar. She fills up my cup and drops two quarters into my hand. I use the tips of my fingers to flip them over: Vermont and Maryland. I drop them into the plexiglass tip box with a flourish, and return to my table.
I write for about 10 minutes, but it’s forced. I’ve hit my Creative Wall for today, ten minutes short of my usual two hour cutoff. I save my work, close up my iBook, sit down in Stinky’s chair. My chair.
My coffee tastes weak, bitter, and familiar.

130 thoughts on “shipbuilding”

  1. I don’t know that it’s so much that you aren’t able to affect different voices, but that the entry started off so much like a regular blog entry. That, and so many similarities to your life were included: step-son, writer’s block, wondering whether the guy at the other table recognizes you from television. The “from the Creative Writing department” at the end should have been a huge clue, but by that point I was too busy wondering what had happened with you and Anne.
    Once when I was trying to tell my husband how I felt about him, I ended up saying to him, “This is how Wil said he feels about his wife….(quoting you)…and I am so glad that someone else is as completely and amazingly in love as I am. That’s exactly how I feel about you.” I was at such a loss for words to explain how I felt, and your words were just so beautiful. So thank you for clarifying that this IS fiction and you and Anne and your family are okay.
    And Wil, you are an amazing writer.

  2. Damn Wil…
    I just read your whole story and it just proves that you’re a writer. Just talk about what you know and your experiences. You’ll be fine. Oh and it’s Yahtzee… :ding::

  3. Sounding/feeling like it should be in the blog department is actually a good thing, here, since (I think) you’re going for a slice-of-life feel. It’s good – natural and strong. Very convincing, obviously, since so many of us looked at it and thought “oh, no, Wil’s marriage is in trouble!”
    Anyway, I just wanted to say how much I liked it 🙂

  5. I’ve lurked on your site for a long time and enjoyed your writing, but this is the first time I’ve posted a comment. I’m 31, married for 8 years, and can SO relate to a lot of what you write. Have you watched Ellen DeGeneres’s stand-up about procrastination on her latest DVD? Hilarious. Anyway, just wanted to write and say that I loved your work today. So many of the details–flipping the quarters over, for instance–are just right. You can tie the narrative threads together without making it seem forced or artificial.
    Btw, I’m an English teacher and former book editor (in my past life before I had my daughter) so I feel like I know at least a *little* bit about what I’m talking about when I say that I think your writing has really improved of late.

  6. thanks for the trip inside your mind…you set the scene well and had me imagining the moment you were living in…VERY GOOD STUFF!

  7. Hmmmm, maybe sometime you can sit in a coffee shop and write about what’s going on around you and your real feelings and thoughts instead of made up stuff. I actually thought this was real when I read it and thought it daring, bold and brilliant.

  8. Jesus H Christ Willie. In the immortal words of William Shakespeare: Lighten the Fuck Up.
    This message will self destruct in five seconds.

  9. I wrote a play-by-play of a study hall in 10th grade. I find it every other year or five.
    I enjoyed this entry. Nice job.

  11. I have been reading your blog for a really long time, but this is the first time I have been inspired to post. I guess fear of bothering the celebrity.
    I really enjoyed reading this post and after it was done I was thinking, ‘WOW! That was a great short story.’ It really took me out of my own reality and into yours. Thank you.

  12. Okay, I didn’t read all the comments, so this may be redundant…
    The other advantage that XM has over the “Indie” channel? I believe that the Indie Channel is, in fact, owned by Clear Channel, thus making it not all that ‘indie’ after all.

  13. You know what? I was in a Starbucks this afternoon, in a different country and timezone.
    No matter what country I’m in, there’s always a weird light in there. I was there for dessert with two friends I haven’t seen in more than a year. I missed them terribly, and the immediacies of the moments were made more precious because of it. While I was there and had that moment, I felt I was in *your* there and having *your* moment. Thanks for that, Wil.
    Hang in there. Difficult things, as a wise friend once told me, will be over before you can say ‘Argh.’.

  14. Block schmock! 😉
    who cares if you’re writing for another book by means of blog entries (like somebody said in the comments)? It’s not like your the first writer/blogger to do so!
    Keep on writing, Mr. Wheaton.

  15. That was a brilliant piece of writing, Will. Everytime you write a narrative story about yourself, your career, your wife and stepsons, I feel like I am sitting right besides witnessing the same event because you write so vividly.
    You are quickly becoming the best if undiscovered of our generation.

  16. wil, i know what you’re talking about with “the rut™”. i’m 31 and been stuck there for a couple months now. i’m not a writer, but i’m in the rut™ nonetheless. at first i thought it was being in school. but i finished that in december and that wasn’t it. then i thought it was the job, but i just got some exciting new tasks and that’s not it. it’s not the fam. it’s not anything … but it’s everything.
    well, there i go assuming i know your rut when clearly i’m talking about my rut as if it were your rut too. perhaps your rut is completely different. anyway, i just wanted to assure you there are others of us in our very early 30s that are in ruts too. if i find a way out of mine, i’ll share. i expect you to do the same!

  17. It seems that your muse has found you, even in the rut. That was the most beautifully written entry I’ve read in a long time.
    Don’t keep her forever, will you? I sure could use her over here…
    D.

  18. Hey buttface… this bleak envy, self-loating, ‘pity me’ writing is unbecoming of you. You’re in a writer’s rut because you put yourself there.
    I like your writing. A lot of people do, apparently. (I’m, what, the umptieth person to comment?) My point… you have an incredibly unique perspective, one in which many folks are fascinated (myself included). This perspective is lost when you start to whine.
    END
    (PS- Wil, you aren’t that big of a buttface.)

  19. “We-Can’t-Wait-To-Fuck get up.”
    I work at a Starbucks, I bet the employees there were happy they didn’t go fuck in the bathroom. I hate cleaning up those messes.

  20. You could be a real writer someday, Gordie.
    …you might even write about us guys if you get hard up for material. Sorry, couldn’t resist.

  23. Hey,
    You write very poetic and truthful. That’s all you need to be a great writer. I’m 20 and want to have the courage to write as you do. Thanks for the inspiration. I’ll keep reading if you keep writing!

  24. I always like reading bits where people observe the world going by. And it’s even more enjoyable here because you relate to all of them. Or soemthing like that. (This is why I stick to poetry. Ugh.) I really enjoyed reading this, Wil. You really brought these people to life. They’re not just words on a page. It’s like we’re sitting right next to you, or seeing through your eyes.
    Uh… Senators rock?

  25. Only in LA do they hang out at Starbucks.
    Only in LA do smelly homeless people hang out at Starbucks.
    Only in LA do two horndogs make out at Starbucks.
    Only in LA.
    We have Starbucks in Kentucky, but everyone around here hangs out at the horse track.
    I imagine they probably have horse tracks in LA, and I bet they have a Starbucks in there too.
    Only in LA…

  26. WOW Wil. That was beautiful. I think I felt everything you were feeling during that time. And you hit a very raw nerve for me. I’ve just turned 30 last year….and my relationship of 8 years with my “boyfriend”…yes that’s right still boyfriend, not fiance, not husband…..is in one of those low tides. He is my best friend and there is no one on this earth I would rather be with, but I know what you mean when you talk about watching that couple, especially in times like this. Just wanted to say thanks for that piece. It hit home with me!
    And you are my FARK…I always sneak in a peek or two at work when I can! Thanks!!! –SS

  28. I check in on you once in a while and admire your wit. Thanks for the smiles and stream of consciousness writing in this entry. I hope Mr. Stinky stays out of your chair from now on!
    D.

  29. As one of the previous posters mentioned about Indie…it truly is a great station, but how ironic that Clear Channel, owners of KIIS-FM and the likes, also owns Indie (check LA Weekly January 16-22).
    This means that it’ll only be “independent” for so long before all the ad money streams in and it begins to sound like a second-rate version of the classic KROQ. I’m not complaining though. I’m listening to it while I can.

  30. Your ability to capture the essence of a scene always amazes me. It’s very hard to convey that edgy frustration of being ready to move to the next adventure while slogging through the everyday. I felt a little self conscious being in that Starbuck’s in the ratty shorts and holey teeshirt I wear to groom the dogs, but thanks for taking me along.

  31. *reads previous comments*
    Dude. I so feel your pain. When I was about sixteen I had the bright idea to write a story about a high school girl who had just found out she had AIDS. I did it as a sort of slice-of-life first-person narrative type thing, thinking it would be that much more powerful if it seemed real. Apparently I succeeded, because the next day all my friends were calling me demanding to know why I hadn’t told them first. *face*
    Which of course doesn’t mean it was a bad story. But it did scare me off fiction for a little while.
    I just wanted to empathize with the whole “It’s fiction, people” thing, and to let you know that I liked it very much. And it isn’t just L.A. that homeless guys hang out in Starbucks.

  32. Great story, Wil. It brings to mind a similar story I had in mind five years ago only it involved a bloodbath at a Starbucks. Much to my dismay, Stephen King did a short story (I forget the title but it was in his most recent collection of short stories)with a similar theme only it took place in a restaurant. Man, I hate when that happens! Mine wasn’t as bloody but it did involve a couple similar to that of your “fuck” couple.
    You’re a very good writer and it’d be nice to see you further explore any one of the characters you mention in your story. There’s no greater joy than when the writing is tight and the ideas flow freely. I could see you expanding on this. I think it’ll work. Great job,Wil. Post more!

  33. You want to hear something wierd? I arrived home 15 minutes ago dying to tell my boyfriend about this really gross/funny thing I saw on my way home.
    White vans? I know exactly what you mean. I was walking through the middle of town today which I never do, and swerved to avoid ‘The White Van’ parked on the pavement. Here’s the irony (you ready?) The ‘We-Can’t-Wait-To-Fuck couple were canoodling in the front seat of the van, whilst the ‘Stinky’ homeless dude sat casually having his breakfast in the back.
    It’s not overly similar, just an amusing little anecdote that somehow relates and I thought I’d put my 50p in…also, my boyfriend isn’t home yet and no-one else will understand!
    Don’t worry about your rut, everyone gets the February Blues:)

  34. Damn. That’s one of the most compelling scenarios I’ve ever read.
    Would it be too much of a a suckup to say I aspire to be like you? Sure, maybe your life isn’t all roses and song. Sure, maybe you have just as hard a time writing as I do. But you have a wife that loves you and tolerates your geekiness. You have cool stories to tell about family. I read the stories about personal conversations with Spiner, Frakes, Stewart, and gnash my teeth in envy about the positive, warm relationships you have with these idols of geekdom. I admire your wit, your ideals, your literary works both in the blog and in ‘Dancing Barefoot’.
    Closing in on 30, I find myself identifying with you a lot. Reading your blog was partly the inspiration for my own (that, and a lot of encouragement from my father, my brother, and one of my dad’s best friends). While I am not a Linux-geek (please don’t stone me!) I am definitely a gaming geek, and get together regularly with my group, the Western Avenue Irregulars. I spend most of my free time at my computer, and hardly any of it searching for The One True Love Of My Life, deciding for now to put that aside till I can wrangle though my own personal issues around relationships.
    Reading what you write, I feel inspired, and understood, and not alone. You r0XXX0rs, Will. 😉

  35. Because, in my Kung Fu Records T-shirt, worn over my Hanes thermal shirt, Chuck Taylors and carefully mussed hair I look sexy and alluring?
    My guess would be, “Hell, yeah!”
    ::sends you good mojo to deliver you from your funk::

  37. What a brilliant bit of writing! Will that be going in a book, Wil? I enjoy writing and I’m a bit of a people watcher myself… which is possibly why I’d never write much of use in a public place. Right then, I’m heading over to blogging.la to see what you’ve written there. 🙂

  38. You write better and more discriptive in giving details and humor to the situation than most of the writers over at Red Dress Ink. I realize that’s not really an equal comparison since they write chick lit and you write… what I’m not sure of, but you are much better.

  39. Don’t get too attached to Indie. The owners of 103.1 seem to change format every year or two. They use to be KDL, playing rave type dance music. Before that they were spanish pop. At one time they were Grove Radio, CD-103, and way back when, MARS-103.
    It seems that the owners are only interested in hitting home runs. A small but dedicated listening audience is not enough.

  40. :::It’s not his fault my sweet and kind 12 year-old stepson has been replaced with a surly, disrespectful podperson.:::
    You mean it’s not just happening at my house? 😀 Just had to say…thanks, I guess, for a line that so wonderfully captures what all parents feel when the kids are from the ages of 11-16.

  41. Wil,
    I’ve enjoyed watching your writing improving over the years. Keep posting these exercises (or whatever you want to call it). While they are rough and lack the context of a story or focused essay, they are still a great “read.”
    The gem of this one (for me) is:
    “Does he ever finish the crossword? Sometimes. It’s a small victory for him, but one he relishes.”
    Seventeen words that say more than many writers say in hundreds. That is what the craft of writing is about.

  42. Totally brilliant, Wil, and totally believable. It took me a while to figure out it was fiction. Your description of the we-can’t-wait-to-fuck couple made me think that I was missing something besides horribly overpriced coffee by not patronizing Starbucks. It also made me think about where the passion went between my wife and myself.

  43. By no means is what am I about to say meant to be mean,just some thoughts I had while reading the post.
    If the homeless guy was sitting there with purchased coffe then he had a right to be there ,but if he was just in out from the cold then,no.Did this homeless guy deserve the intollerant moniker of “stinky”? What crime did he commit to be judged so harshly because he was sitting in YOUR chair? What if it was another chair? Sure,proper hygene should be required when in public,but if his living conditions do not permit what else is there for him to do?
    As far as the salesman maybe he has narcalepsy.
    And what about ” I crumple up my muffin bag,and free throw it into the trash can.It sails through the air,trailing crumbs,and hits the side.It skips into the corner,past the door…”
    3 Things.1)Should it not have read,I free threw it towards the trash can? ( not that my grammer or sentence structure are anything to be proud of).2) ” A Starbucks guy runs a sweeper across the floor around me,and beneath my feet”.
    DUDE,YOU TOTALY RUINED THE STARBUCKS GUY CLEANING EFFORT.I can see it now,his boss asks him if he swept and he answers yes.The boss takes one look on the floor and sees the crumbs (Wil Wheaton’s crumbs)Your fired says the boss to the starbucks guy.Unable to find gainfull employment ever again he becomes homeless and ends up begging for coffee change and sitting inside a starbucks in somebodys favourit chair! 3)Maybe the girl across the store staring at you siting in HER favourit chair just called you “Mr.Trashy,trash”.
    Last but not least,the couple with the “PDA”.
    “…are standing by his car.I know its his because he’s leaning againt it…They’re making out,right there in the parking lot,with the reckless abandon that blind passion brings to a couple”.
    Hmm?If they are blind with passion,and Im just shooting in the dark here,could it mean its not his car but just a car they were blind to have seen been leaning on?
    Anyway,thats enough poor grammer out of me for one day.

  44. I always wonder what your stepsons think when they get mentioned in your blog entries.
    “Wil thinks I’m a podperson??”

  46. Well, I would think that it would probably be time to take a break from writing every now and then. I usually find myself wandering the road for a month or two when I find myself in some creative rut. My response being that if I have nothing new to say from myself, then it means I need to work on changing my perspective a bit.
    That, or I’m being too annoyed with the people around me, which also sounds like the case.
    I would suggest a road trip, then I remember that you’ve got one planned for the reasonably near future. See you at Penguicon!
    -M.P. Reyart

  47. Second time posting a comment, hope you read these things as the other comments I’ve poured through show you have quite the following.
    Although I started reading your blog out from a voyeristic perspective, trying to get insight into what Entertainment Tonight would call a “Where Are They Now” segment, I now am an avid visitor to your site. You have a gift that shines very brightly from time to time – I expect that’s what people in the “business” saw in you in your youth. Perhaps whatever it was that brought you celebrity in your youth creeps out when you let your writting flow.
    I read this blog and almost touched my shoulderblades with the back of my head, shaking it from side to side I couldn’t believe just how well you put your thoughts and even more scary- how you wrote of passion lost and youth missed as I have done so many times. Wil, keep writting, you have a gift, let it come out, I want to know others feel my pain, I need to know that it can be overcome.
    So I won’t be visiting your blog as a pariah of the down, no, rather I’ll continue to visit so that one day I can tell my son, “I used to write the author on his blog, before his genius was widely recognized”. Best of luck and one last thought: nobody goes alone, be it up or down.

  48. I have been told by several friends that your website rocks. If I had known it was full of such wonderful writing I would have checked it out a long time ago. What a wonderfully hilarious work of fiction! I’ll be back for more!

  49. Great writing. Thanks for attaching that link to the creative writing dept. of your site; I’ll be sure to read those too.
    My sympathies and kudos for people thinking that was a real “blog” entry and not a piece of writing sleight-of-hand.

  50. God knows I’ve been in your shoes with the passion thing. I am in the process of hooking up two of my co-workers. One has a crush one week and hates him the next. (typical female behavior) The dude is sending a serious amount of mixed signals that causes the girl to love him one moment and hate him the next. (typical male behavior)
    I find myself wanting the newness of a relationship, the excitement and thrill but at the same time, feel quilty because I’m about to marry the man I have been looking for my whole life.
    The woes of being in complete, contented love and not knowing it.

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