Presidential Trivia (1789-1945)

I don’t do political posts but I found a Chicago Tribune article with interesting facts about our past presidents.  Apparently I wasn’t paying attention during high-school history because some of this presidential trivial was new to me.  I decided to look a little bit closer at the first 32 presidents to see what else I missed (To be honest, the presidents after FDR don’t all have interesting trivia).

Because we don’t all work for airlines, and some of you poor souls had to work more than 9 days in September, I won’t make you go through the trouble of looking it all up.  Check out the facts and if you ever find yourself on a game show you can send me a thank you note.

 

1. George Washington (the original G.W.)- The only president unanimously elected by the electoral college.  At the time of the American Revolution, George Washington was the richest man in Virginia, and probably the richest in the colonies.  He was strongly opposed to the formation of political parties believing them to be divisive and bad for democracy.
2. John Adams- Successfully defended the British soldiers involved in the Boston Massacre (see, you can learn about history by watching HBO).  Was the first president to live in the White House.  He was the first president to use his power to control the army to fight a war without a declaration, the Quasi-War with France, starting a trend that would essentially nullify Article 1 section 8 of the Constitution, which gives Congress the sole power to declare war.
3. Thomas Jefferson- The first president to take action against slavery by abolishing the importation of slaves into the United States.  He owned slaves but was outspoken against the practice of slavery.  His intention was to set his slaves free after he became debt free but he never paid off his debts. 
4. James Madison-  The smallest president, standing 5’4” and weighing in at just over 100 lbs.  Along with Jefferson, he was the original organizer of the Republican party (later known as the Democratic-Republican Party).  His wife Dolly, saved the famous Gilbert Stuart portrait of Washington before the British burned the White House.
5. James Monroe- The last revolutionary war veteran to serve as president.  He is also the only president to have been shot in action, taking a bullet to his shoulder in the battle of Trenton.
6. John Quincy Adams- Not a very interesting President although he was instrumental in implementing a plan for a stronger national infrastructure.  He was the first president who followed his father into the “family business” of running the country.
7. Andrew Jackson- First president to have advisors.  He called them his “Kitchen Cabinet.”  He remains the only president to have ever paid off the national debt (and it looks like it’ll stay that way).  Lived through the first assassination attempt when the would-be assassin fired two pistols at him at a distance of thirteen feet – both misfired.  
8. Martin Van Buren- The term “O.K.” is credited to Van Buren.  He was born in Kinderhook, N.Y. and was known as “Old Kinderhook.”  This was shortened to Old K. then to simply “O.K.” and the term okay was the eventual derivative.*  He was the first president to have been born in the United States.
9. William Henry Harrison- The shortest presidential term, lasting only 32 days.  He gave a 105 minute speech outside in bad weather without a hat or overcoat and developed pneumonia shortly there after.
10. John Tyler- Tyler’s wife began the tradition of playing “Hail to the Chief” when the president appeared at public functions.  She was rather proud of her husbands inherited job.
11. James Polk-  Acquired California, which was one of his campaign promises, then did not run for reelection.  He was the first president to have his picture taken while in office. 
12. Zachary Taylor-  Received his nomination for presidency late because he refused the postage due envelope.  Fought in the war of 1812.  Nicknamed “Old Rough and Ready,” but he rode sidesaddle into every battle.
13. Millard Fillmore- Arguable the worst presidential name ever.  First president to open trade with Japan.  The last president from the Whig party.
14. Franklin Pierce-  Gave his inaugural address from memory.  First president to say “I promise” instead of “I swear.”  Strongly opposed to freeing the slaves.
15. James Buchanan- The first bachelor president. 
16. Abraham Lincoln- First president to be assassinated.  First president with a beard.  Other than that, his legacy is pretty well known.
17. Andrew Johnson- Had no formal education.  He was taught to read and write by his wife.  First president to be impeached.  He was buried with his head resting on a copy of the constitution.
18. Ulysses S. Grant- The S. stands for nothing.  It was a clerical error when he was accepted to West Point.  His given name is Hiram Ulysses Grant.  He didn’t correct the error because he didn’t want to have the initials “HUG” written on his uniform. 
19. Rutherford B. Hayes- Banned alcohol from the White House to “set a good example” for the rest of the country.
20. James A Garfield- Second President to die by assassination but it wasn’t the bullet that killed him.  Doctors operated with non-sterile equipment and it caused an infection.  It took him 80 slow and painful days to die.
21. Chester Arthur- As a lawyer, Chester won a discrimination case in New York that allowed blacks the right to ride in streetcars.  Nicknamed “elegant Arthur” for his fashion sense. 
22. Grover Cleveland- See below.
23. Benjamin Harrison- First president to lose the popular vote but win in the electoral college.  First president to use electricity in the White House.  Once made 140 different speeches in the span of only 30 days.
24. Grover Cleveland- The only president to be elected to two, non-consecutive terms.
25. William McKinley- The first president to ride in an automobile.  He didn’t live long enough to talk about the experience.  It was an ambulance in Buffalo N.Y. that took him to the hospital after he was shot.  He died shortly afterwards.
26. Teddy Roosevelt- Youngest President ever, taking office after McKinley’s death at the age of 42.  He was the first president in office to receive the Nobel Peace Prize.  He tried to have the words “In God We Trust” removed from U.S. currency.  First president to travel outside of the United States while in office.
27. William H. Taft- First President to own a car. Last president to have facial hair.  He had a bushy mustache.
28. Woodrow Wilson- First president to receive a doctorate and first president to cross the Atlantic while in office.
29. Warren G. Harding- Had the largest feet of any president.  He wore a size 14 shoe.  He once gambled away a set of White House china dating back to Benjamin Harrison’s presidency. 
30. Calvin Coolidge- He rarely spoke.  Once a dinner guest made a bet that she could force him to say more than two words.  His reply- “You lose.”
31. Herbert Hoover- Only Quaker to be elected to the presidency.  Donated his entire presidential salary to charity (only president until JFK to do this).  He spoke fluent Chinese and would speak it with his wife when they didn’t want to be overheard.
32. Franklin D. Roosevelt- The first president whose mother was allowed to vote for him.  The only paralyzed president.  First President to have an Aircraft.  

*update on 10-08-08.  The origins of the term "O.K." according to the National Parks Service.  I found a more detailed explanation that contradicts this view.  Interesting article- http://www.wordorigins.org/index.php/more/436/

Sources- The Chicago Tribune (http://www.chicagotribune.com), Wikipedia (http://www.wikipedia.org), The National Parks Service (http://www.nps.gov), The White House (http://www.whitehouse.gov/history)

Flying: Rio de Janeiro

Update on 10-01.  This was emailed to me today and I couldn't resist adding it to this post even though it has nothing to do with the rest of the content.  

I have found out that there ain't no surer way to find out whether you like people or hate them than to travel with them.  ~Mark Twain

I've been trying to figure out how to write about my trip to Rio using PG-rated language and topics. I can't do it. I've been working on it for a few days now and it just isn't coming out in any way that would be appropriate for a wide audience.   The marketing slogan for Las Vegas, "what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas" is pretty widely known but no one really believes it. People cut loose and have a good time when they visit but they don't really believe that Vegas is its own world. It's just a dark corner of real world where most of the time people aren't paying attention. There is another saying, perhaps less known but more widely believed, "What happens south of the equator, stays south of the equator."  I don't feel that it would be appropriate for me to drag people's dirt back north with me so I'm going to write this post and leave out all the fun yet scandalous details of my trip. There is a large statue of Jesus standing on a mountain over looking the city, I'll let him deal with their problems (see the caption).

"Really? Right in front of me!?"

Rio de Janeiro is infamous among Airline Personnel. If you wander around town alone anytime after dark, you’re probably going to lose some money either to a robber or to the police who are essentially robbers with badges (Badges?! They don’t need no stinking badges!). But that’s not what the buzz is about. The buzz is about the sex. Pilots and flight attendants who consistently fly the Brazil trips, both Sao Paulo and Rio, quickly earn a bad reputation. Some deserve it, some don't; people have an easier time generalizing in groups than analyzing things on a case by case basis.

Despite all of its moral shortcomings Rio's landscape is among the most breathtaking in the world. We Americans are very proud of our country's aesthetics; from the rolling hills of Pennsylvania to the Rocky Mountains to the Grand Canyon to the California coasts. We got nada on the the Brazilian landscape. The Amazon Jungle creeps right up to the edges of the mountain peaks which puncture the city's western Skyline. The buildings, homes to someone even if they wouldn't pass even a lenient safety inspection in the states, crawl right up the sides of these mountains until the slope turns to cliff, 90 degree rock face for 500 feet in some cases. To the east is the ocean with long beaches and rolling white waves. Small islands, uninhabitable rocks really, keep the tankers and industrial ships a long distance from the shore. The sandy beaches are covered by day with locals in thong bikinis (both sexes) and kids playing a local game which is basically volleyball with their feet. 

I went into town that night with a couple of the women from my crew and we had some drinks at their favorite local bar. They would point out the prostitutes as they came in. We'd watch as they sat down at a table, ordered a drink and waited. Eventually someone would come up to them, pick up their bar tab and they would leave together. This happened over and over.

Rio is a party town. It reminds me a bit of New York on the weekends. If you don't need sleep, you can stay out and drink and party until the sun comes up and even then, as long as you still have cash in your pocket, the party doesn't have to stop.

The statue of Christ has been named one of the new seven wonders of the world. My plan for the second day of my visit was to hire a car to drive me up to see it but pouring rain put a damper on that. 

I enjoyed my trip to Rio, seriously, look at the pictures, they were worth the flight alone. I'm just not sure how often I'd like to go back.

Sorry about the boring post but I felt obligated to post something and obligated to not say too much. After all, coworkers are coworkers and there's no use spreading gossip and speculation.

Flying: Rio Pictures

Just got back from my 10 hour flight up from Rio de Janeiro, Brazil.  I'm a bit more than a bit tired so I'm just going to put up some pictures now.  I'll follow up with a real post sometime tomorrow.  

The View from my hotel room

The Beach Front.  We stayed at a resort

The Pool

The Friendly (but slow) Staff

Jobi.  Our watering hole in Downtown Rio.  

Me

The New and Improved Bearded Man

“There are two types of people without beards- boys and women. I am neither one.” -Greek Saying

“A woman with a beard looks like a man.  A man without a beard looks like a woman.” -Afghan saying 

In my last post I mentioned that I’ve grown a beard.  Some of you think that this is an easily accomplished feat stemming from three weeks of laziness.  You are correct. Others have asked, what is the purpose of such a foolish façade of facial refiguring.   Since dabbling in the ancient art of Pogonotrophy- the cultivating or growing of a beard, I’ve learned a few things. 

1. People see you differently.

  Of course this can be taken literally, you have a beard thus your appearance has been altered (for the better).  But what I mean is that people think of you differently.  In Ancient Greece, among the older Germanic tribes, and in Russia (before Peter the Great who first taxed beards then ripped them out as a symbol of progress) beards were worn as a display of virility.  There was more shame associated with losing the hair on the face than on the head.  Even in modern culture a beard is a sign of a certain kind of virility.  A man with a beard is assumed to be older which is internationally associated with wisdom.  He is assumed to be tougher and more “manly.”  And he is assumed to be ignorant of the more effeminate qualities of the world.  For example, there are several questions I haven’t heard since growing a beard.

1. May I see your ID?
2. Would you like room for cream in your coffee?
3. Does my lipstick match my shoes?

2. Bearded men are not all capable of surviving in the wilderness and winning sword fights to the death.

It’s a natural assumption.  Some bearded men in fact look like they’ve just walked out of the woods but its not universally true.  This is a myth perpetuated by that evil entity that distorts everyone’s world-view: Hollywood.  I may have been guilty of believing it myself.  I’m not sure.  Bearded men aren’t wrong about anything but if I had the thought before I grew a beard I may have been foolish enough to fall into this trap.  If I was hoodwinked, I now understand how it happened.  Russell Crowe in “Gladiator.”  Now that was a manly beard if ever there was one.  Consequently, Russell crow was the best Gladiator.  Did any of the other Gladiator’s have beards?  No.  They had scruff but it wasn’t enough to beat a real beard.  The evil and incestuous Emperor (Joaquin Phoenix)?  Clean shaven (wussy boy).  Hollywood subliminally implanted in our minds that beards win sword fights.  However deceiving that film was, I have not found any hidden sword fighting techniques between the rough and virile hairs of my chinny-chin-chin. 

As for the first part about bearded men being automatic wilderness survival experts well, I’m not going to waste my time addressing that.  Some things are so obviously true that they don’t need justification.

3. Beards make you more honest.

It isn’t a rumor, it’s a fact.  Think of Wolf Blitzer, the most trusted reporter on any form of broadcast media, he has a well cropped beard.  Then think of Bill O’Reilly, no beard, not much truth to what he says.  It’s actually a simple explanation, although the physics of it are hard to conceptualize.  However, for your benefit, my non-bearded readers, I’ll give it a shot.  The molecular structure of a lie is similar to the molecular structure of milk.  They’re both created in the… well, I’ll call it the “Indecent” region of the body, they both spoil quickly unless pasteurized (a process of sterilization) and they can cause severely adverse reactions in people who aren’t accustomed to ingesting them.  They also both stick to beards.  It’s actually harder to get them out of a bearded mouth than to put them in.  This is why bearded men quickly stop drinking milk and telling lies.

4. Shampoo is a sound investment for everyone.

This isn’t as obvious as it sounds but before you judge, consider the amount of hair on my head.  Purchasing a quality shampoo hasn’t been high on my list of priorities (ranking #465, between walking across burning coals and flossing my teeth; yes, bearded men are actually capable of listing their priorities).  The unfortunate consequence of being so virile is that my face itches.  I mean, I’m so manly now that I hardly notice.  Obviously, like Chuck Norris, I feel no pain now that I have a beard, but it still becomes an annoyance, like that fly in the far corner of the room.  You don’t feel him but still want to kill him.  Now that I’ve invested in a shampoo (or taken a few bottles from hotel rooms) the itching seems to have stopped.  For my balding yet clean shaven counterparts, I recommend purchasing a bottle for the day you finally decide to become a man. 

5. Bearded men are better writers.

Think Hemmingway and Dostoevsky.  This is also proof that women writers will never reach their true potential until they start ingesting massive doses of testosterone and grow a beard.  Perhaps it isn’t expressly true that having a beard makes you a better writer but it certainly make you a better thinker.  Without the beard scratch I wouldn’t have thought up nearly half of the brilliant ideas, which will clinch me my Pulitzer, National Book Award, and Nobel Prize for Literature.  They may even give me an honorary citizenship to the UK just so they can award me the Man Booker Prize.  I’m not sure, the queen will be calling any day now to verify.  

Flying: Narita and the Amazing Beer Machine

“I am a Crew Member of an airline.  I do not speak your language.  Misfortune, excessive alcoholic beverages, and jet lag force me to seek your assistance in obtaining food, shelter, and protection.  Please take me to someone who will provide for my safety and see that I am returned to my crew.  My colleagues will reward you.”

-T-shirts sold in the Jet Lag Bar in Narita, Japan.  The Japanese translation is also on the shirt. 

Seventeen days without putting on a blue polyester suit, walking down a jet bridge, or strapping into a jumpseat.  I suppose most people would consider it normal.  For me it’s two and a half weeks of routine sleep and the strange sensation of turning off my cell phone- my definition of abnormal. 

My cell phone’s battery lasts about two and a half days before it needs to be recharged.  Recently, if I noticed it was low I’d plug it in while I was sitting at my computer writing, which was something I’d gotten used to doing anytime I wanted.  When I went to sleep with my cell phone slightly less than half charged the day before I went back on call, it didn’t occur to me that it might cause problems. 

At 5:09 the morning of the 14^th my cell phone rang less than a foot from my ear with the loudest ring tone I have.  When I picked it up I saw only one power bar left above the caller ID which read “Crew Desk.”

“Mr. Bingaman, this is Sherry with the Washington Crew Desk.  We have as assignment for you today.  Let me know when you’re ready.”

“Huh?”

“You’ll be working ID 5001 of the 14^th with a check in time of 11:04 at IAD.”

“Where am I going?”

“It’s a three day trip to Narita.”

“Thank you.”

I set my alarm for 9:30 and went back to sleep. 

Packing for international trips used to be a meticulous process.  I’d imagine all the things I could possibly do on the layover and pack accordingly.  These days, I don’t even bother to look at the weather.  There are three things I keep in the bottom of my suitcase no matter what: a jacket, a swimsuit, and my toiletries kit.  Other than that I’ll throw in a pair of shorts, a pair of jeans, a couple undershirts, a polo, and the appropriate amount of socks and underwear for the length of the trip.  The only things that ever really change are the books in my duffel bag and the currency in my wallet.  When I woke up at half past nine, all I had to do was shower and throw the appropriate clothing in my suitcase and my new book (The Brief and Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao) in my duffel.

When I’m not working shaving seems like a waste of time and energy (I’m going for the scruffy forlorn writer look) so I had 17 days of growth on my cheeks.  The company has very strict guidelines concerning facial hair.  Male flight attendants have to be clean shaven or have full, well cropped facial hair.  I looked in the mirror after my shower and decided that 17 days growth is pretty much a full beard (not quite a Santa Clause beard but better than the Dr. House “look how much I don’t care” beard) so I shaved the excess hair from my neck and put on my uniform.  Mountain man meets flight attendant.  I like it. 

I showed up to briefing 20 minutes early which has become a habit for me and printed out all the paper work.  Work positions are chosen in seniority order, usually first class goes first on international flights because it’s the easiest and economy goes last because it’s the most work.  I saw that I’d be flying with one of my classmates who was behind me in seniority which meant that I had at least two choices, a rare treat. 

When everyone was there, the purser started the briefing by passing out the crew customs forms needed for Japan. 

“Fill these out now so you don’t forget,” she suggested. 

            The third line down asked for the passport number.  I suddenly had a heart-breaking image of a lonely blue passport sitting on my bookshelf in front of authors Hornby, Ishiguro, Johnson, Kesey, and Kostova. 

            “I forgot my passport,” I blurted out, interrupting whatever trivial flight detail the purser was going over. 

            “Excuse me,” said the supervisor who chose that exact moment to walk into the room.  “What did you forget?”

            “My passport,” I said. 

            “Go tell the coordinator.  We’ll have to put a Stand-by on the trip.  This means you’ll be getting a DNF [Did Not Fly],” she added just to rub it in. 

            “Hold on a minute,” on of my coworkers said.  “The flight doesn’t leave for an hour and a half.  Do you have time to run home and get it?”  Coworkers are much more likely to try to find solutions than supervisors. 

            “No,” I said.  The employee bus takes too long to get to the lot.  “But I have roommates.  They might run it out for me.”

            “We’ll brief without you,” the purser told me.  “Go call them.”

            “Tell the coordinator anyway,” the supervisor said.  “Just in case.”

            I ran to the front of the office, the only area I get reception. 

One of the problems with my generation, the tech-gen (besides our infuriating inability to use whole words) is that we sell ourselves completely to technology.  We have cell phones so we laugh at land-lines and don’t memorize numbers.  I opened my phone to call my roommate, David, who I knew was home and the screen flashed “Low Battery.” 

I didn’t pack my charger.  I can’t use my phone in Japan anyway but it’s decidedly inconvenient when I have to use it in the States and have no battery power left.  My phone has problems with ordinary calls, so it stands to reason that it would be even worse with a nearly dead battery.  It took me three tries to get David and to communicate my problem, tell him where the passport was, and then to hear him say he was on his way. 

I ran outside, which takes about 10 minutes from the C gates when you catch the people mover (Dulles still uses the bus system between terminals but they tried to glorify it by dubbing it a “People mover”) and luckily I did.  David was calling me when I got to the door.

“Where are you?”

“I’m outside door 4.”

“Upper or Lower Level?”

“Lower.”

“Ok, I’m right there.  I think I see…” and with that my phone shut off and would remain off until I got home. 

With my passport in hand and my earnest thanks delivered, I ran back through the airport and made it to the plane in time for passenger boarding.  I found out that I had been assigned to the Economy Galley, one of the positions that I wouldn't have taken with the choice I should have had but I was too glad to actually be on the plane to complain.  

 The most difficult part about these trips to Asia isn’t the work we have to do, it’s how incredibly boring 14 hours in a plane can be.  We had 3 hour break, but other than that, we just stand around and help passenger figure out how to open the bathroom door (Push.  You just push.  Push right there in the middle…where it says “push.”  Seriously?  You were here an hour ago…You still have to push.  Yes sir, both doors are the same, push that one too). 

 Japan is the only country besides the United States that requires all foreigners to scan their fingerprints and takes their picture every time they enter.  They also check passports, which was a relief because I’d hate to have gone through all that work to not have my passport checked. 

            We got to the crew hotel at about 4:20 and Cindy, the girl from my class, and I agreed to meet up in the crew restaurant to have a beer and go explore Narita. 

            Japan has an interesting mix of technology.  Some things are high-tech (like the escalators that don’t start until you step on them and the elevators whose buttons are a computer touch screen) and some are low-tech (like the 12 inch old tube TVs in the rooms that have separate VHS players). 

The beer tap in the Hotel’s Crew Restaurant was fascinating.  You took a frosted mug from the freezer next to this beer machine and placed it on a pad that had arrows pointing towards it.  Then push the Beer button and watch the magic.  The pad is really a little mechanical arm that raises about four inches after the Beer button is pushed.  A small door opens and another arm extends and rests against the side of the glass.  The glass is then tilted by the arm and the platform and a spout descends until it’s touching the inside of the glass just beneath the rim and begins pouring the beer. When the beer is almost full, the spout retracts and the beer straightens.  Before it comes back down, a different spout opens and a perfect amount of head is added to the beer.  The platform lowers back to level and the beer is ready to be consumed. 

I was tempted to chug the beer and replace the glass, just to watch the whole process again.  Honestly, I probably could have gotten black-out drunk purely in admiration of this ingenious machine.  Fortunately for me, I had promised Cindy that we were going into town but still, I now know my first purchase after I make my first million dollars.  There were also a vending machines that sold cans of beer in the hotel and even on the streets of Narita, but after that machine… well, beer will never be the same.

One of the older flight attendants, and I don’t consider a flight attendant older unless they’ve been flying for the company longer than I’ve been alive, wanted a shirt from a bar in Narita so we promised we’d buy it for her if we saw it.  The bar was called Jet Lag and it sole purpose was to sell alcohol to flight attendants and Pilots.  The shirt my co-worker wanted was black with the amusing text from the beginning of this post written on the front and translated to Japanese beneath.  It was 7:00 by the time we made our way into Narita and we actually found this bar before anything else.  Our Pilots were there and insisted on buying us a round (which turned into two, which turned into three) and by the time we left, it was 9:15 and everything else was closed. 

After 3 beers (5 beers) and no sleep we were both pretty tired anyway.  It seemed like a long bus ride back to the hotel with a Japanese man badgering me and insisting, through his son who was the translator, that I wasn’t a flight attendant but a pilot who was just being modest and that I was going to marry Cindy (who is actually getting married next month, though not to me, Kathleen, I swear).

            24 hours is really a short visit to Japan, especially with the interrupted bouts of sleep I got that night.  The time there is 13 hours ahead.  No matter how tired, I just can’t sleep all the way through the day, even if it’s the night. 

            The flight back was easy with a rare 40 empty seats in economy and two hours less flight time.  One of the FAMs (Federal Air Marshals) was bored and entertained me on the way back with amusing stories of his time as a secret service agent and travels as a FAM. 

            When I finally got through customs and back to my apartment, I very carefully put my passport back in my suitcase where I know I won’t forget it and plugged my phone in to the charger because there are a few mistakes that you only make once. 

Flying: Back to Work

I haven't flown for 18 days, not since China.   Today I'm back to work and that means I'll have something good to write about when I get back on Tuesday.  The trip today is a 14 hour flight to Narita, Japan on a Boeing 777 airplane.  25 hours there and a 13 hour flight back.  I should be home about between 3 and 4 on the 18th.  I'm spending a lot of time in Asia, aren't I?  I promise you something interesting by Wednesday.  

Writing: Driving Myself Up A Wall (then running around on the ceiling).

"In general, poets do not know where the on/off switch is, anywhere in life.  They are usually off unless they are forcibly turned on, and they stay on until they are taken to the emergency room, where they are medicated and turned off again."

-Charles Baxter, Novelist, Professor,  and one of the best writers on writing, in his book of essays, "Burning Down the House."

I haven't flown since I got back from China, the result of being out sick and a schedule with big chunks of days off, and I won't be flying again until after my Recurrent Emergency Training on the 13th.  That doesn't mean I haven't been working.  I recently discovered that I don't know where my on/off switch is.  Right now I have nothing to do but read and write, so that's all I'm doing.  Between the website I'm building and the novel I'm working on, I've written or rewritten 110 pages at least, since August 28th.  

I can't stop myself.  I feel a nagging guilt whenever I'm away from the computer.  That's why I started carrying a little notebook and pen wherever I go.  My meals have mostly been purchased from the salad bar of the Grocery Store across the street and eaten at my desk.  My girlfriend has been more than a little jealous of the attention I'm paying to writing but I can't stop myself.  I've never had to before.

There is was always something to stop be.  I had to get to bed because I knew I'd be flying the next day, or before that I had to go park cars (when I valeted in Pittsburgh) or go to class.  This is my first chance, since I decided that writing was what I wanted, to do nothing but write.  I love it.  

I've made progress on the novel in the last four days.  It's becoming layered, the themes are starting to develop and I've finally settled on the perfect (or at least the most perfect so far) ending.  I write until I'm out of ideas every day, which has been getting later and later, I was up until 4 in the morning the other night.  Then I'll wake up with a batch full of new ideas of mysterious origin since I was pretty sure my head was empty when I went to bed.  It's fascinating to me and I'm terrified of losing momentum when I'm forced to go back to work.

I bought a book last week, "The Paris Review Interviews, vol. I," and it's proving to be good motivation.  It's a book of the best writers they interviews through the Review's long publication and has some powerhouse names in fiction.  My favorite interviews are with Truman Capote (who wrote lying in bed), Ernest Hemingway (who wrote standing at his desk, probably so he wouldn't fall asleep when he read his own work), and Kurt Vonnegut (who didn't mention how he wrote so I assume he sat like a normal person).

I mention the book because it contrasts the different ways writers work and the different ways they come to their work.  Hemingway and Vonnegut both lived through war and traveled the world before they started writing.  They filled their heads with stories and information and then one day, decided that they knew enough to write a book and did it.  But Capote published his first short story when he was 12.  It was supposed to be printed in thee parts in a local paper.  After the first part ran, enough people recognized it as a scandal involving Capote's neighbor that parts 2 and 3 never ran.  

It was also interesting to read the interviews in light of the authors personalities.  Capote loved to talk and would answer each question, always making himself out to be the victim of someone or other who was trying to stop him and then give vivid detail of how he overcame that obstacle.  Vonnegut, according to the introduction to the interview, rewrote the entire interview so it was essentially Vonnegut interviewing Vonnegut.  Hemingway was bitter, felt anxious and said several times that his time would be better spent writing.  Several times he told the interviewer off.  Once, his answer was, "What a question.  But full marks for trying."  Another time he talked for a bit before he ended by saying, "I see I am getting away from the question, but the question was not very interesting."

All the writers were asked this question in some form, but I thought Hemingway's answer was the most interesting.

Interviewer- What would you consider the best intellectual training for a would-be writer?

Hemingway- Let's say that he should go out and hang himself because he finds that writing well is impossibly difficult.  Then he should be cut down without mercy and forced by his own self to write as well as he can for the rest of his life.  At least he will have the story of his hanging to commence with.

I'm not sure if I've actually said anything in this post.  I felt like I should come in and write something because we're four days into a new month and I haven't posted yet... so here it is, another of my disappointingly abrupt endings.  But I have to go, I'm starting to hear the nagging again.  Only 9 more days until I start to lose the momentum and I'm going to spend three of those at Rehoboth Beach, not writing at all.  Lets hope I get to bed before midnight today or I'm going to drive myself mad.