The Blogger, Part Two

To read part one, click here.

Stuck In Lodi Again...

When Bertram was growing up, he always thought that song referred to Lodi, Indiana, as in the front-man of the “Twin Cities” of Lodi-Silverwood. As he grew up, he thought he most likely referred to Lodi, California. Having driven through the Indiana Lodi several times, and the California one once, he was certain neither place was somewhere he’d want to be.

What Lodi the song referred to was irrelevant, as far as he was concerned. To him, the tone of the song mattered more. It represented being stuck in place as time moved forward, unable to progress, unable to figure things out. Above all it meant Bertram wasn’t sure what to do, how to rectify his current situation.

Six months ago he had quit his software development job at Illinois Business Solutions so he could focus on his own projects. Although he had kept his bills paid by freelancing and consulting work, his passion project had yet to take off. As good of a programmer as he was, he always would rather be writing instead. He wasn’t sure if he actually enjoyed it, or if the lifestyle of “research trips” and the possibility of sleeping late were the bigger draws.

He had named his blog WhimmiWazzle, and had hoped it would be a mixture of fiction, eccentric posts about happenings in the area, and occasionally earnest essays about subjects ranging from Abe Lincoln to bringing high-speed rail to Central Illinois. So far he had written a few posts about his favorite Coen Brothers and Pixar films, and how much he dislked the latest explosionarama by Michael Bay. He had made a few visits to places like Forest Glen, the Carnegie Library in Ridge Farm, and the Vermilion County Museum. The first two visits had ended up as marginally coherent posts read by his sister, a few of his friends, and his parents. The last had never resulted in anything worth posting. He got as far as trying to write the post as a homage to the Gettysburg Address, but never was satisfied with it.

So day after day, he rarely sat down to actually write. He’d read profusely, from novels and short stories to memoirs and large books about the English Civil War or the revolutions of 1848. If he wasn’t reading, he was watching his library of movies and TV shows. He rationalized this by saying it was “research”, but mostly he just enjoyed it. And if it was research, he didn’t apply it very well, as that latest monstrosity showed.

“How do I fix that piece of shit,” Bertram muttered under his breath. “It’s clearly not salvageable in its current form, but maybe there are a few ideas that can still wor--”

(HONKHONKHONKHONKSCREEEECCCHHHH!KA-THUNK!)

The sound of the car stopping broke Bertram’s trance. Now aware of his surroundings again, he realized that he was the reason the car had stopped, just a couple inches away.

“WHAT THE FUCK, MAN! WATCH WHERE YOU ARE GOING!”

To be continued...