A Window to 1922

Photography has never been my thing, which is surprising given its role in my novel The Night Caller and another novel still fermenting in my brain. I do love the photographs that give us a window to the distant past.

Kodak recently posted the 1922 original Kodachrome motion picture film test reels from George Eastman's collection online. Keep in mind this is thirteen years prior to the first full-length color motion picture.

A little like time travel, don't you think?

524

I finally saw the movie Julie & Julia. I know! My Netflix account is as neglected as the moon in daylight (~Jonathan Swift). The tag line of the movie said something about how Julie Powell embarked on this 365 day/524 recipes challenge to "enliven her uneventful life." Mostly, I'm thinking she feared her blog well would runneth dry.

When I started this blog almost four years and seventy-some followers ago, I worried my well would runneth dry, too. So I did what any self-respecting organizational freak would do: I made a list. A list filled with nuggets of inspiration. A list brimming with narrow, exclusively time-travel-themed post ideas. A serious list filled with serious topics and serious philosophical explorations of time travel. Nowhere on this list, I assure you, would you find Fabio, Elvis or appropriate homage to The Hoff.

And then one day, my head hurt. Wasn't physics the one thing I hated, really hated, about high school? Sure, the teacher was a Michael Vartan-esque hottie, but the stupid jumping-up-and-down-on-an-elevator essay question single-handedly bludgeoned my GPA. Why was I trying to explain wormholes? If blog readers want wormholes, they'll go to forevergeek or discovery. I only had to know enough to be a dangerously awesome force in time travel romantic fiction. So things like quantum holograms became quavering Holloway and alpha brain rhythms became alpha male-isms. I had pop culture fish to fry.

Did I lose direction? Not really. Did I loosen up? Holy hell to the yes. But there are still days when I come to the keyboard without a plan. And that is where five hundred and twenty four of anything is tempting.

So in the spirit of Julie & Julia, I give you a list of what 524 might look like at The Vortex:

524 Elvis songs, complete with annotations on the lyrics where his barely-contained studio gyrations caused a hiccup in his voice.

524 WTH moments in LOST, the series

524 absurd fictional methods of time travel

524 romantic faces of Fabio

524 Macgyverisms to Win a Girl's Heart

524 Pretentious Coffee shop Patron Profiles

524 Lines of Dialogue I Would Have Written Had I Not Been Writing a Daily Blog

524 Writing Rules I Stopped Following

524 Plot Notes Mined from My Vacuum Bag

524 Inventions to Torture the Nub Who Unleashed the Bamital Virus on My Hard Drive

524 Sentences in Fiction That Make Me Realize I Have Much Left to Learn

524 Never-Before-Used Physiological Character Responses To Convey Emotion. Okay, that well would dry up in, oh, a week. These are my biggest hurdle when writing.

524 Things a Romance Novel Hero Would Never Say

524 Ways to Romance a Physicist

Speaking of Physicists, time is running out to nominate your favorite hottie in ZapperZ's Most Attractive Physicist Contest. I, for one, am hoping for a photo gallery at voting time. It's just the kind of superficial-meets-science we love here at The Vortex.

What would your 524 look like?

Chasing Beautiful

Friday came and went, a bizarre, high-noon filled with all manner of beautiful and horrible. Which is why I rarely go to my hairstylist anymore. Don't get me wrong-she is talented and amazing and I do love me some sleek-cut locks, but it's the forced conversation with subtitles missing, the small-talk that leaves me feeling like an Us Weekly celeb gossip follower, and vanity with a hefty-enough price tag to make me say, "Yeah, I think I'll go all Crystal Gayle next year." But let's start at the beginning: the beautiful.

Ever hear a song for that first time that makes you want to stay too long in a hot car when you're running late and you don't notice the seat belt cutting you or people passing by? The song was layered and sad and rich and powerful. It made me wish I was a better writer. In those four minutes, it knocked every other favorite off its pedestal. The song, you ask? You'll have to read on to find out.

So I sat in the hair stylist's chair, this orchestral/rock masterpiece in my head and laid out my wishes: Layered, resting on my shoulder. Not on the shoulder of the invisible fairy dangling from my earlobes. My shoulder. Yeah, this was the horrible part. That fairy? Apparently, she does exist. But then my horror at my own insignificant misfortune was underscored when the woman in the chair beside me had a stroke. She was smiling and peaceful and there one minute and not the next. They came and asked her questions she couldn't answer and carried her away. I felt blessed to be able to stay and make that small talk and have too-short hair. I paid too much and left.

Later that day, I searched the internet using the lyrics I remembered. Maybe I wanted to recapture the warmth in the car, those few fleeting moments when the day had been beautiful and everyone was smiling. I watched the video on YouTube, tried to align the lead singer's voice with his surprising Ozzy-esque appearance, mourned that my interpretation did not come through visually. Yes, music is more powerful when listeners take the meaning and make it theirs. But mine wasn't theirs, so I just close my eyes when I hear it and it stays on that pedestal.

If you're curious, it's here.

What was the last song that fell instantly into your favorite category?

My Prediction for the Future: A Hangover

In an attempt to inject more accuracy in what my heroine from the future believes is antiquated in the present time, I've been reading articles that tackle the future. More specifically, the technology that will be available and the things we use that will become obsolete. An October 2000 article in Discover Magazine-I know! You'd think the article, itself, would be old news, but it's not-explores twenty things that will be obsolete in twenty years. Make that ten.

Along with some pretty great line graphs that speak to my inner Geek, the list is some of what you'd expect and some you probably hadn't thought of. We all knew cordless phones, answering machines, even DVDs have one foot on the banana peel, but human signatures? Digital cameras? Insulin injections for diabetics? The possibilities fascinate me. Worth the read if you're curious, especially to know that we're at that halfway point in the projected future. It's like a Heinlein novel in progress.

Writing peeps: If you're as confused as I am about how ebooks are changing author royalties and you love, love, love graphs like I do, check out Mike Shatzkin's article.

If Monday has been a real pisser for you, pull up a stool at the Vortex bar and try the teleportation shot:

First shot:

2/3 shot Gold Tequila

1/3 shot orange juice

Second shot

2/3 shot lime juice or Roses lime

1/3 shot Bol Blue

Directions: take the first shot, immediately followed by the second.

Oh, and if anyone has the trifecta of Twitter, Blogger and Feeds expertise, and knows how they fit together harmoniously so as not to create chaos for each other, please send me an email: la-mitchell at la-mitchell dot com. Teleportation shot on me.

Vortex Gone Wild

An Elvis movie where he portrays a writer? The idea has peanut butter and banana goodness spread all over it. The execution? Well, let's start with the title: Wild in the Country. Though Elvis's character, Glenn Tyler, is a bumpkin, the setting is not entirely what I consider country. Incidentally, he is no Glenn. Glenn is the guy with the furry 'stache and extreme foot odor that dated my college roommate. And, ladies and gentlemen, Elvis Presley is no Glenn.

The 1961 movie, adapted from J.R. Salamanca's novel The Lost Country and Elvis's seventh Hollywood production, is not what I expected. Truly, it was his last effort to prove his acting chops before he circled Colonel Parker's drain of self-respect. As such, it was hard to watch because there are moments, apart from my unyielding admiration for all things Elvis, that he was good. Really good. Moments when my throat seized up and I never questioned that he was that delinquent who'd watched his mother die and never had a break in life. Was it cliche? Sure, but Elvis at his best is Elvis as an outcast bad boy. Isn't that what it was always about?

A musical, this is not. In an attempt to launch Elvis as a dramatic actor, the songs often superimposed and unrelated in his other films don't show up here. They are few and extreme: two bouncy and camp-tastic, one soulful and sweet. At it's heart, it is a story about a troubled young man, who with the help of a court-assigned therapist, discovers he has literary talent and something more to offer the world than anger and bitterness. It's rumored Elvis had to return to Hollywood to shoot an alternate ending because the original ending was all up into the tragedy portion of this Romeo-and-Juliet-meets-Cougar Town-hybrid melodrama.

The dialogue is where it falls apart for me. Are we supposed to accept him as a wild-child when the number of "ma'am"s out of his beautiful lips would put Eddie Haskel to shame? And the portion of his story the professor gushed over? *Cough*Bullwer-Lytton*cough. Better to have left it to our imaginations.

For me, the "love scene" between Glenn and his therapist is worth the price of Peyton Place admission. Though clearly within the restrictions of Hollywood morality of the day, it accomplishes far more heat and sensuality in its simplicity than any movie released today. Romance writers take heed: the hairpin still gets him, every time. It's worth a peek, if only to laugh at the Vulcan death grip he gives her when he tells her he's in love with her.

Elvis is the 11th most talked-about thread at The Vortex! If this post left you craving more, here's enough women's panties, auctioned hair and hunka hunka burning symbolism to O.D. you on The King, Vortex-style.

As a Friday treat, I give you what-the-hellery I found while trying to locate the awesomeness that is Elvis's red shirt in Wild in the Country. At least the copyright police won't be all over me for this one. Dave, honey, I'll be scouring the internet to sample this one. No, really.

Have a super weekend, everyone!

All You Can Eat Time Travel

I don't do buffets. I always picture them as one of those Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom episodes where wildebeests dressed in Hawaiian prints graze over the same chicken wings their ancestors, no doubt, feasted upon. But when the awesome that is time travel linkage stacks up like beef tips and lemon meringue pie, what else could we call it? Grab your plates...it's course number one:

Instead of iceberg lettuce, try this blogspot called Time Travel Kitchen where author Jana is single-handedly reviving old-school, artery clogging goodness moms have been serving for generations, or in some cases, centuries.

Clean plate, people. It's time for a return visit to one of my favorite sites, Awkward Family Photos. Today's entree happens to be of the time travel variety. Be sure to lap it all up, the comments are almost as good as the picture.

Speaking of kitties, and hair that has escaped the server's hairnet. . .

there's another one. . .

oops. . . one more

Want something meatier? I give you a Hollywood tidbit juicier than a Salisbury steak. According to thewrap.com, Josh Hartnett is in talks to get an indie picture called Tomorrow off the ground by lending his star power. This time travel thriller follows a man who is "desperate to save his family on the day of their murder, but can't control the short-term time travel phenomenon he's trapped in." Production begins in Louisiana late 2010. Chew on that.

Have room for dessert? I saved my favorite for last. This may play into the hands of conspiracy theorists who believe Google will one day become so all-powerful it will floss our teeth and decode our thoughts, but I can't help the love for their newest venture: History Pin. Remember the post on Sergey Larenkov's photographs that fused old and new landmark photographs? History Pin marries social networking and photo mapping to create a digital time machine. Add the secret spice of humans telling their stories and it's better than chocolate. Almost. Here's a short vid explaning it:

Not sure about you, but I'm stuffed. This wildebeest has left the building. Speaking of which. . .

Look for a hunka hunka burning post on Friday. Elvis is a writer! Can't wait to see how he sneaks misplaced modifiers into his songs. Until then, dig in.

Scary Eggs, Scarier Word Count

I'm starting to sound like my characters. In my emails, my texts. The cadence is crazy. I wonder if my peeps think I've taken a flighty pill. Above all, it means I'm pumping out some serious writing time, which makes me happy beyond words. What doesn't make me happy are the numbers:

In the past thirty-some-odd days:

11 days-I accomplished less than 100% of my daily goal
9 days-nada written. I know!
4 days-exactly 100% of my daily goal reached. To. The. Word. Neurotic, right?
5 days-holy hell, way beyond 100%

Fully 66% I did not reach my goal. Does that mean it's too high? Maybe. Does that mean there were too many Elvis movies (have you seen the one where he's a writer??? OMG..I smell a post coming on) and cupcake baking and lounging by the pool? Beyond yes. But summer has never meant optimum production for me. I can't think when my thighs stick to my leather computer chair and I have to re-up the antiperspirant because it's hot enough to fry a scary egg on my patio.

Wednesday, look for enough time travel links to put up a sign and call it a buffet; and maybe, just maybe, that promised Elvis movie to round out the week.

Today's word count: 2150
Temperature: 105 F