Greg's Blurty

The Next One I'm Not Going To Write
I had lunch in Iowa City today. If you're not from this area, please understand that I'm not putting on airs or anything because it's pretty common and ordinary for Quad Citians to visit Iowa City. So, while it sounds hopelessly exciting, glamorous and just downright uppity, like a snobbish once in a lifetime sort of adventure that many will never get to experience, you have to see it in context for what it actually is: It's really just a fortunate accident of geography.

It's really no more a big deal for someone here to visit Iowa City than it is for a Parisian to have lunch at the top of the Eiffel Tower or a New Yorker to have a hot dog at Yankee Stadium. Most people go to see a doctor or to visit someone at the University or because they are a student themselves or to see someone in one of the hospitals but my trip today wasn't even for a big exciting reason like that.

I just had lunch with an old friend. And I didn't even go in the present time, so it was even less exciting and ordinary. But for me, it was essential. So I got in my time machine and went to Iowa City on September 2, 1968 and had lunch with Kurt Vonnegut. I had to do this because I've been struggling with writer's block for the last 300 years or so and it needed to be ended.

And why it had to be Kurt in September, 1968 in Iowa City was because he was writing Slaughterhouse Five at the time and he was a visiting lecturer at the Writers' Workshop and I needed some of that magic. I called him when I got to town and we met at The Vonnegut House. It wasn't called the Vonnegut House at the time but that's a small point.

He was glad to see me. "What year are you from this time?" He asked as he opened the door. "Do you need money again? You would think that someone with a time machine would be able to devise a way to produce income without having to resort to borrowing from destitute old writers. But what do I know? I'm just a destitute old writer."

I told him I was fine and that it was nice of him to ask. Then I told him to slow down. One question at a time, please. Then I gave him the five dollars I owed him from the last time I saw him and told him lunch was on me this time.

"Fine," he said. "But I get to pick the restaurant." Then we drove downtown to his favorite sandwich place. I wish I could remember the name of it and it's weird that I can't because I was just there this afternoon. But I do remember that they had great corned beef and the coldest beer in I.C. and that was fortunate because it was a very hot day.

I also remember that the place never reopened after the tragic Corning Of 1972. President Nixon was scheduled to visit the campus and the students mounted a protest. The governor was outraged, so he called in the National Guard and they poured into the city on combines and buried most of downtown under freshly picked corn. It was the Iowa version of Kent State.

That's incidental to the story, though. What matters is that we had lunch and in the process, Kurt cured my writer's block. It took a while but he did it. He started by asking me again what year I was visiting from this time.

"2008," I answered.

"Last time, it was 2006...that's two years. I thought I was your favorite writer."

I didn't have the heart to tell him that since he's died, I've seen him many times because he seemed a little down anyway and you never know how someone is going to take finding out the date of their death, so I just artfully changed the subject. "Well, you are my favorite writer, I've just been busy. Could we talk about me for a minute? I have this Godzilla sized case of writer's block and I need your help."

"Godzilla sized, huh? Last time it was Mothra sized. Your taste in movies gets better all the time. You should stop writing novels and become a film critic."

"And you should be a comedian. Is there any bigger proof that life isn't fair than the fact that Johnny Carson has a TV show and you don't?"

"I would have said World War II but now that you mention it, I guess the idiocy of network executives is a pretty good argument. Did you see that NBC gave Dean Martin $8 million for four years? I would do it for $4 million. I can't sing but what do you expect for $4 million? But let's get back to your problem? Dorothy couldn't help?"

How did he know that I had gone to Dorothy Parker first? I hate it when he does that. "I did see Dorothy yesterday but it wasn't to cure my writer's block," I lied. "She's great with poems, short stories, plays and nonfiction but she doesn't write many novels," I said truthfully, "And novels are what I need."

He pointed at the window and said, "Look. At the people. The clothes they are wearing. The cars they are driving. The signs, the windows, the bricks, the mortar, the pavement. Hell, look at the parking meters. And the very air they are all immersed in. They all, every single one of them, have stories to tell. Millions of them. Just tell one of them."

"This is just like when I asked John Lennon how to write hit songs," I grumbled and then recounted that experience in my best English accent, "Just say what you want to say, make it rhyme and stick a back beat on it."

"I didn't know John Lennon is Turkish."

"Thank you, Bob Hopeless," I said. "Now, can you give me something a little more concrete? The whole, "Every molecule is a book waiting to happen," thing is a little too metaphysical for me."

He frowned and ordered another beer. "Fine, then," He said at last. "You want concrete? Here it is then: Write a sequel. To Bonnie And Clyde. Is that concrete enough?"

"That's a great idea, Kurt...but did you see the movie? Bonnie and Clyde died. That kind of limits the sequel options."

"If you're going to let that stop you, you have no business writing."

I won't bore you with the rest of the conversation because this is already five times longer than it was intended to be, so I'll just skip to the conclusion: I came home and promptly didn't write the sequel to Bonnie And Clyde. And how did I overcome the obvious obstacles?

Well, if you're lucky enough to be in a dimension where I actually did write this book, listen to me on C2C Live this weekend because Ian intends to ask me that very question. If you aren't lucky enough to be in one of those dimensions, well, I'll just say it has to do with reincarnation. And Charles Starkweather and Caril Ann Fugate.

I know I'm not the first person to suggest that Bonnie And Clyde and Charlie And Caril Ann are really the same people but I am, as far as I know, the first and so far only person to use the idea to write a sequel to Bonnie And Clyde. The more interesting thing, though, is that all the major mechanical devices I'm using to do it were covered on Coast this morning.

That leads me to ask, "Is George Noory on Kurt Vonnegut's payroll? Or vice versa?" No, don't answer, because I really don't want to know. The Illuminati paired up with the Vast Right Wing yet again but this time, it paid off for me and I don't want to push my luck.

Current Mood: depressed
Current Music: Coast To Coast AM----Monday September 1st, 2008