Just sitting here still shattered by the fact that a single email can decimate years of work and struggle...

It didn't hit the newspapers yet, but all indications from his facebook page (or was it his wife's tweet) but Jorge Posada is hanging up the spikes and the 'stripes. Congratulations on an excellent career and for carrying on that tradition of great, hard-nosed catchers most exemplified by the late, great Captain-- Thurman Munson. That is as far from faint praise as it gets.

Red Sox lose their jackass of a closer, Papelbum, to the Phillies. Good! Couldn't stand that guy; same goes for Big Ploppy-- wonder where he winds up. Looks like Reyes goes to the new (and trying to improve) Miami Marlins; they're having all the major free agents come and check out the new field, eat at some great local restaurant and then get a contract offer. They are doomed if everyone says yes so it should be interesting to see how it all plays out over the hot stove. The fact that the collective bargaining contract is still up in the air adds another dimension.

So, the book. Yeah, not so great this week. Trying to write a happy "wish fulfillment story" when the real world keeps poking its freaking nose into my personal life is somewhat akin to pulling teeth out along with a hair from your head: pointless, painful and far from the most direct route.

I had been far behind after the first week. Now, I find myself behind after week two. I did get it together enough yesterday morning to scribble myself past the 20,000 word mark which is good, but not where I want or need to be especially with the holiday upcoming and travel and all that. I guess in the long run writing over 50 pages of novel in under 2 weeks is good, but I can - and must - do better.

Meanwhile, maybe I am also doing research on the caving movie and that could be ... fun.

Go read a book.

Brian

Trying to write a book that takes the most positive angle on a grown-up, committed marriage and family while real life refuses to imitate art is a far more difficult proposition than the whole "write what you know" thing. Trust me on this one. And although, technically I am still on target to complete the 50,000 words of Nanowrimo by the end of this month, it has become a slog and a struggle to get the words out of the mine. It's been up and down: Tuesday was the first day that I couldn't squeeze a single word out; the morning brought an email that took the wind and the words right out of me. I made it up for it the following day by scribbling out 3,000 words over the course of the day, which has been my highest total in the first week or so. But then yesterday which followed a rough night from other ends of reality and life was harder than heck to just get out half the words I was supposed to, a whopping 800+.


Jorge Posada told the world this week that the Yankees haven't contacted him about a contract for 2012 and he says they won't be. The Yankees officially didn't respond to any of that meaning they will let their longtime, core four catcher hang up his pinstripes. It would feel so wrong to have him in any other uniform; he has come out saying the same thing. He is a veteran presence and there is something left in his switch-hitting bats so it will be interesting to see if any other team makes a run at him.

And if this is truly the end, it was a mostly majestic career spent entirely in the Bronx which is something most modern ballplayers don't ever get to do anymore: spend their entire career with one team and the only one that matters. Torre came out saying that Jorge is Hall of Fame worthy and who can argue with Joe? Not I...

Okay, I'm going to try and squeeze out some words, some paragraphs and a chapter or two.

Thanks,
B.

Two years ago, I waited all day long for something I knew not what. But I knew to wait and I listened to myself and I waited. And she appeared and I listened to her and I waited. And it spelled hope in the sky and it was etched in me along a perforated line. And it stayed there for as long as it could and then it was put away because it wasn't for then.

And it  stayed away before it reappeared and hope blossomed again. And then there was vision and vision transformed hope into a word that bears some resemblance and in some ways mean a lot of the same things.

And I fell. The problem with falling is that when no one is there to catch you, you hit and you make a sound, but it can't be heard.

Now, I cannot wait. I just must be...

Brian

Sorry for the week away from saying anything here. What was there to say? Did I mention that the Yanks re-signed CC Sabathia before he could opt-out? Did I say they performed the no-brainer and picked up the $14M option on Robinson Cano and the probably-took-some-deliberation $10M on Nick Swisher? Possibly.

I did get to see a little of last night's broadcast of the MLB stars in Taipei, China. CM Wang being as big as Jeebus back home got knocked around with 2 out in the 2nd inning and gave up 3 runs.


Meanwhile, with all this free time I've been working on a polish on my friend Sparrow's novel adaptation. It was pretty "funny" to me that some of her themes and even some specific lines in her book reminded me much of the last novel that I wrote this time last year. More amusing is that I sent that to Sparrow to read -- the only person and clearly the right one -- so I will wait to see if she picks up on some of the similarities; they are ones that come as much from our living as our writing...

Speaking of writing, I am 13,000+ words into the new novel, "Warm Button Issues," and although it's been a struggle, I have been putting ass in chair and bang-banging away at this thing. Here is the opening paragraph. Enjoy it and don't consider it blog-padding...

“Cut,” the little voice ordered. He was lost, he didn’t hear her. “Cut,” she whined drawing out the u-sound for what felt like a three count. He had the children’s safety scissors enveloped in his arthritic right hand like Andre the Giant operating a pair of hedge-clippers, but he was seeing something else. How he could miss those brilliant gray eyes, eyes that looked nothing at all like his own big, brown eyes, starting plaintively up at him from the Persian carpet that annexed most of the bowling alley smooth hardwood floor of Lily’s playroom?

Thanks,

Brian

I could go back and read what I wrote yesterday in regard to CC Sabathia staying put as a New York Yankee, but I won't bother: The Big Man signed what amounts to a 1-2 year contract extension. Yes, he could have opted out of the contract (sure, I mentioned that part) but his family and his heart are in New York and although by the time the contract expires, potentially 2017, he could be the biggest (editor: fattest) Yankee pitcher ever; he may require more pinstripes on his 2015, 2016 uniform than anyone else, Babe Ruth or David Wells included. Don't know if there's a way to check this on an old Bambino, or Boomer home togs, but I will stand by that until proven wrong.

Across the river, the Mets are moving the fences in the help their hapless hitters although, to me, it also smells of the fact that they know they will not be able to re-sign and retain the triples-hitting speed of Jose Reyes; he is the guy who most benefited from the original outfield configuration as it really aided and abetted his ability to hit three-baggers.

Bye-bye LaRussa; glad to see ya go, but if this means I have to deal with listening to his idiotic, although successful, take and tactics of the game as a broadcaster next season, I will be campaigning for his dismissal -- check that: his Exile - from Spring Training (editor: when is that?!) 'til he's shown the door like Joe Bleeping Morgan.

Welcome to November which is often and is this year, the month for Nanowrimo.org -- National Novel Writing Month. I've mentioned it before (editor: and he'll mention it again, and again. Someone should edit this guy...) but you and many other writers and soccer moms around the country commit to penning a 50,000 word novel during the penultimate month of the year. I have a title, "Warm Button Issues," so that's 3 words; only requiring 49,997 more to go. Guess I should get to it, although this was so not the week to break my french press. Should someone lend or give me an unbroken one, I will name a sympathetic character in the book for you. What a deal!

Cheers and happy November to you,
Brian