Author: admin

It all started as a dare. Shane pushed him to it. The others helped, but it was always Shane with his brash, know it all smile that sealed the dares. Daryl would remember that years later, after all of it fell apart and he struggled to put his life back together. It was just supposed to be a stupid dare.

“You’re too scared to talk to a pretty girl,” Shane teased. 

Daryl was. He could already feel his palms starting to sweat. He flipped his hands over, drumming his long brown fingers on his pantegs. He clicked his tongue against the top of his mouth, trying not to speak.

Nick, Archie, and Ray were already giggling between themselves throwing elbows and nodding in agreement. Shane stood apart from them, chin up, long blond hair shifting in the wind like a cover model. Only seventeen and he had the look of a man who’d run for office one day.

The girl in question was also blonde, her hair shifting in the wind the way Shane’s always did. She was sitting on a bench under a tall hemlock tree reading a book. She was absolutely breathtaking. She wore a long blue skirt with a white short sleeved top. She dressed better than any girl he knew from school, and that was a clear sign she wasn’t from their backwater town. New girls were always a challenge.

“So, you chicken or what?”

Daryl wiped his hands on his pants and shook his head. “I’ll do it.” 

The giggles of his friends died away replaced with an anticipation not unlike that of watching a prize fight or an impending car wreck. Daryl felt their eyes on him as he strode directly over to the girl, close enough to touch her, close enough to smell the faint hint of vanilla perfume. He walked right by. 

Then he stopped, turned around and walked back to her. He didn’t know where the next few words came from. They weren’t practiced or prepared. They came from someplace deep inside of him, like the instinctual punchline of a comedian’s joke. 

“Excuse me, but do you believe in love at first sight?”

She looked up, confused and just a bit curious.

Then he said, “If not, how many times do you think I should walk by before it takes?”

She laughed. Daryl Brewer had never heard a sound so wonderful in his life. He never did hear a better one.

Feels like a good time to talk about football. We are still awaiting the 6A Southeast recognitions for High School as well as all city. The kid has expectations instead of hopes. I am not sure he should have either. Here’s one thing I’ve noticed about my kids who play–they are the kind of kids you can easily scheme against. My high schooler pointed out that many teams would sacrifice a player to block him. On obvious run plays or RPOs (the obvious penalty was never called when the pass was thrown btw) they option a tackle or guard to shoot up field and block him from the safety position. On other plays they use the slot WR to run him off. He saw that as a positive because teams need to scheme against him. I see it as a negative because teams can scheme against him. If you want to be at the next level you need to overcome scheme. You need to be a dynamic threat from your position and scheme ought not matter.

He isn’t that guy yet. He doesn’t fully realize that consciously and as a result thinks he is far above where he is at. He expects to be first team all conference and all-city as well. That remains to be seen. Regardless, he has a ton of work to do this summer in camps to earn a scholarship offer. That in of itself is getting harder and harder based on the money these teams are shelling out. More than likely he will take his brother’s route of going FCS and then earning up. It is a good route. A smart route that teaches you a lot about the game and about the business of the game. He also has a lot to learn about the fact that he is a student-athlete. That remains important at the next level as his brother can attest to.. with those straight As.

Speaking of the college kid, his problem is one that, at this level, could help. He does not get a ton of stats. He is 9th on the team in tackles despite missing one game to illness and only playing roughly half of two others as he’s worked his way back from a devastating 30 lb weight loss due to that illness. He still leads the team in pass deflections in spite of seeing the least amount of targets of dbs playing significant minutes. That boils down to the main fact and main issue: He is sticky. He provides solid coverage within a qb’s passing window, so more often than not the qb’s will go to another WR. There is no stat for sticky. That pops on film, but you need to watch the film to see that. Most awards, recognitions, etc. are stat based. So when the top corners are lined out, he’s never considered among them.

Quiet greatness. Gotta check the PFF score. Sadly, few teams actually do and PFF itself hardly looks at FCS teams–especially not the 3-7 ones. All I know is a the teams in the Big Sky are looking at 31 and saying, “why risk it?” Cool. But not really cool. Hopefully that changes in a few hours and this kid gets a shot at a big game.

I’m good tired–the kind of fatigue that comes from doing something you think is useful. I’m helping the father-in-law shape a space to have his 75th. We’re putting up lights and cleaning out lots and making sure everything lines up nice for the horde of people to come pay service to his aging. I’m quite impressed with the life the man has led thus far. I’m quite impressed he’s been able to do so much and remain as healthy as he seems while I’m feeling pangs in my heart from the little bit I’ve done thus far. Some folks are born to be old. Others are born to die young. Others still fall along that spectrum. I don’t know when my time is supposed to be up, but when it is I want to know I’ve done as much as I could as well as I could and loved with every ounce of my soul.

I also want a lot more time. I can’t say that I deserve it. I can’t say if any of us do, but the want is there. The desire to do more and make more resonates. With any luck I will continue to be able to pay it forward to those who will come after and those who are here now. I suppose I am beginning to understand just how old I actually am and as such, just how long I might have left. There is sadness in that. There is a sense of displeasure in realizing there is less life in front of you than there is behind, like you’ve been on the rollercoaster and you know that next big loop is the last one. You still want to appreciate the loop, but you know there isn’t a chance you get to ride again.

I find myself feeling terribly maudlin lately. I find that I am unsettled by the burgeoning reality of the now and am I unprepared for what this next step is supposed to be. I am grateful I have a partner to go forward with. I am grateful for a number of things. I am grateful for playing a role in all of our kids’ lives, even if half of them would rather be elsewhere when it comes time to celebrate family and give thanks. I accept that the way I accept all thing–with the understanding that you cannot change the things you cannot change. Yet we must maintain the courage to change the things we can. I mean to do such. This is, after all, the eve of the next act. I intend to live that act out to the best of my ability.

I don’t know how to start this because I do not have a ton to say. It’s another day in this space between things. I am on the farm and, somewhat, getting the writing in. I am slowly moving through these final editing notes in order to pull together this mess of a novel into something I can be proud of putting on shelves. It is not what I wanted it to be. I’ve learned through these experiences that I do not end stories well. I need to go back to stronger outlining, because pantsing it is not for me. The last one — make that the last three were pantsers and not a one was meant to be. They started as well scripted beginnings, which devolved into hastily concluded stories that tried too hard to wrap too much up while, at the same time, seeking to grow beyond the original parameters.

This is the kind of thing that does not happen when you’re tightly scripting a plot. Perhaps that is what is making me really nervous about my Justice Engine. I have a vision of the last chapter and what I think could be a strong beginning… and nothing in between. I was hoping the general real-life structure of such things would give me a format to work with, but I realize that I am fooling myself to that extent. I need to think it through more. In truth, I need to script it through more. I should be writing out each chapter over and over again, adding a few lines each pass the way I’ve been doing with the one novel sitting on the shelf that I ought to get back to in this 26′ rotation.

First, let’s finish the one I am supposed to submit in the next few weeks. Fourteen days–that is exactly how long I have in order to get this thing done, and then it is back to waiting for the people on the editing side to do what they do. So, back to the word mines for me. I have a lot to do and a lot more to think about doing. The work is piling up and the time is winding down.

Sounds like a regular November for the Talislegger.

Some Thoughts:

1. I love the idea of coming out here a few times a year and getting reset. It feels like a reset every time I am here, because this world is small and the requirements are very specific and measurable and doable. That leaves me a good amount of time to do me and do writing. I love the balance I strike out here. I don’t fall terribly far off kilter the way I do in the desert.
2. If only it had a spa bath…

I love it out here in the Tennessee backwoods. The more time I spend out here, the more curious facts I learn about the state. For example, I did not know that Vanderbilt University was in state. In Nashville in fact. So much ballyhoo is raised about U of Tennessee that it is easy to forget that there are other schools in the state. It’s like “The” Ohio State University, when there are several other academic icons in the state.. Oberlin, Bowling Green… Ohio State gets all the love. Tennessee gets all the love. That of course traces back to sports. Football, mainly. I never stop being surprised at how much money that sport generates on every level.

Here in the woods the only sport I’ve been watching is pig races. Which pig gets to the new feed first? There’s also the squirrel fights. Once they see that nut all bets are off. Things are slower here and that gives me more time to focus on what I care about–spending time with people I love, and writing. The big two. I’ve yet to fall into the second one, but I realize that it needs to happen today and onward. Once I get back to the desert the distractions will flood in.

Maybe that is the most important take away. I rarely sit in my office and lock in anymore. There isn’t silence outside, so I seek distraction inside. That always results in a slower and less productive version of myself. I spent 7 hours working Monday and produced a dribble of schoolwork. How many of those hours were spent chasing some youtube rabbit hole?

I aim to make the best of my time here. It might be smart to start scheduling more time here. The Lady Talislegger loves the place and it gives us more time to spend with pop. On my end, I write more and feel better and more centered as a human. These things are tougher in the desert.

More and more I realize this blog is a respite. Ten minutes during which I can do what I want and the only responsibility in life I have is to write out the ten minute limit. That is freedom. Like all freedom, it is contextual–it exists within a small window of rules. I have to sit for ten minutes and write. That’s enough for me. It reminds me how much I love the Butt in Chair aspect of simply sitting here and doing the thing I’ve been doing my entire life–since I wrote that silly Choose Your Own Adventure book about Russia in early elementary school. I knew then I loved the vocation. I knew I wanted to write always and that I would write for as long as I could. I didn’t know whether or not I would be great at it, but I was always someone who believed he was ‘the best at what I did’.

I am not. In truth, I’m not even a top ten dude. I learned that with football, baseball, coaching, romance, teaching, leadership…. man the list goes on. I have always been more of a Jack of all Trades. However, I think that of all the things I am capable of doing, writing is the one thing that leaps above the rest. These ten minutes of reflection are grounding. The time and space, while sometimes grating, reminds me of what I believe I was meant to do in life. I am here to love my people and write kick ass lore. I’m getting good at one of those things.. it ain’t the lore.

What I need to be doing is locking in. There are so many things in my life I want to be very good at, but the one thing I am really good at–the one thing I can get top 25 ranking in–I’m neglecting. I need to turn up. This might be the week for that action.

I want to talk about our inability to have patience. In a more targeted sense, I want to talk about the high expectations that are destroying the sporting world. I feel that it is an example of what is going on with the larger argument, and I feel it is the one that is the most dangerous, as it forms our expectations and continues to push the narrative of impatience.

I am a fan of Coach Prime. He has his flaws to be clear. He has his drawbacks–one of which is the amount of attention he gets. That in of itself is an engine of division. The more that is said, the more eyes are one him. So, he instantly becomes an example of the larger phenomena. Before we talk about him, let’s talk about Tulsa and Tre Lamb. Tulsa’s new coach took the job after Tulsa went 12-24 over the past three years. He’s 2-7 this season. Nobody is calling for his job. Sanders took over a program that was equally poor and had fewer eyes on it than Tulsa, as the dog of the Pac12. Prime’s record is 16-19. His team has been ranked as high as 16th in the nation in that time. So, what is the difference? Well, I can pull the black card here (Just ask the Jets new coach!) but the real issue is eyes on the program and the larger expectations and polarizations towards what people talk about. If we are talking about them, we expect perfection. Think about Penn State. They had one of the best coaches in football. He got fired for losing 3 games.

The more in the public eye you are, the more money is spent on your program, the larger the expectations of absolute success. I remember earlier this year all eyes were on Arch Manning. He was expected to be the greatest thing since color TV. He stumbled on the big stage and people immediately called for his head. Heck, I did. He didn’t live of to expectations. I hate that the word has such negative connotations, but there it is. Expectations appear to only be good when you exceed them. That should not be how it works.

Sundays are wearing me out. I live for the days where I am enjoying the outdoors and also getting time to enjoy the things I love indoors. Sundays are working out in that fashion but it leaves me a little brain drained. That’s where this piece starts. Brain drain means few longform coherent thoughts. Which means…

Some Thoughts:

1. I have way too many things to remember on a daily basis. I gotta break this stuff down and eliminate the things I don’t really need to do.
2. Also need to get my life together faster–especially in terms of having teaching stuff ready way before semester.
3. I checked my numbers for the spring. I need to get them up–especially in the creative writing classes.
4. Everything now is about building a longform resume for the next stage. I need to be able to prove that I am a good teacher, because the next stage is about people who don’t know me when I, eventually, move and start over.
5. Starting over is very exciting–at least at first. Finding a new routine is an adventure. Settling into a new space when you lack the funds to do it right is a straight up pain.
6. Sports have dominated my life for a while now. It is a strange feeling to know the last kid is nearing ‘drive himself’ age and opportunity, which means my role will be super limited. I love that idea. I love how it will change my daily routine. Excited for it.

wish in one hand… I think you know the rest. This week was filled with the rest in terms of competitive performance. 3 boys, one win. Losses on mock trial and college football—blowouts on both accounts. The worst part is not seeing the kid play the kind of minutes that he earned. Instead a lot of the backups were in, as though Coach is looking to the future and that future means deciding who is up next on the roster. They were blown out by NAU after last weeks rough blowout. That is the kind of thing that breaks a competitive culture. A defense that was top 20 nationally wound up giving up over 100 points over two tough weeks. There is no coming back from that.

I don’t know what practice will look like next week, but I know there will be fewer eyes on the program. I know some players are done fighting. I know my kid isn’t and I hope he gets a real chance to show that and show out in the next two weeks. After, we will se what happens. They could be a 5 win team and they could be less than that. They will still be better than they were and worse than they expected and intended to be.

That brings me to the other Colorado team. They broke in a new qb and lost another game. It’s past the point of being able to get to bowls. Ow. More people are calling for Prone to quit or be fired.

I think they’re in a tough rebuild but I also think they’re as good as can be expected right now based on how they built the thing. The money wasn’t there and the local talent wasn’t there. That luggage done left without achieving the dream so it is time to go shopping and get more coaches who can make the offense sing.

I am not doing a good job being a writer. I want and need to do a heck of a lot better. As I go through this latest work and see how I am being bullied into reforming it as a ‘woke’ version of itself, I am also thinking that I need to get to a space where I can say the things I want to say and portray different types of characters–some of whom are not necessarily good people. I think that I have put myself in a situation to be disrespected and misrepresented by an editor whose vision comes from a place far different than my own and thus lends itself to a style of writing and a narrative different from what I am wanting to produce.

I gotta move beyond Shadowrun. It isn’t what it was or even should be. We’ve stripped away a lot of the darker and punk aspects of the genre in favor of a funner, lighter, more giddy and anime-esque atmosphere that isn’t what I want to be writing about. Cyberpunk 2077’s entire body of work from stories to the show to the game itself would not have passed to the public under this administration. It isn’t that kind of dark, but I truly feel more comfortable writing things that show the frayed edges of human nature and showing that not everyone is PC–even the so-called good guys.

But they publish me. I want to be published. If I was better, more people would publish me. So, I gotta get better.