17 Jan 06

There is no chance, no way this little writer will ever bring his mom for moral support under the big glaring lights of a TV talk show to explain, apologize, and justify his creative licence to embellish his memoir.

Literary agents, publishers and their marketing whiz kids need a hook. They need emotional leverage and pathos to sell the thing. The book. The story.

It's all true and "The Rejection Letter," in MK 11 says so. If it ain't on the page it ain't on the stage.

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We increased the size of image gallery thumbnails. New street stuff posted in January 06.

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In other exciting news the kite we recently purchased for 18Y ($2.2) - a green and orange fighter jet has taken off. The soccer field is ideal for catching a breeze off the lake.

We scoured the city and tracked it down at a toy and sundries wholesaler on a grimy, crowded alley. The girl showed us an outdoor bin full of broken dirty kites and we requested a newer version. She went inside the store grabbed some keys and led us to an elevator shaft. We went to the 7th floor. Broken shards of cement and dirt covered the ground. Busy workers pushed trolleys of razor blades and cosmetics from storage units to elevators destined for shelves.

She led me down a cement hallway and unlocked a door. The long narrow room was packed with boxes overflowing with Christmas decorations, products and debris. She foraged through a mess of stuff and unearthed a box with long colorful day-glow neon cylinders. Bags of kites. We open a green one, dumped it out and unrolled it on the floor. Four feet across with two slender steel pieces for wings and stability. Perfect. Found a wooden roller with string wrapped around a red spiral, paid and wandered away.

We have lift off. Go fly a kite.