The khlong by Kiatphontip

I have a new post over at mymuaythai about going to a gym called Kaitphontip. You can read it here.

Working it. pt. 1

I woke up at 7:45, tired still from the day's exercises. I put in my contact and blinked until they fit in without irritation to my eye. I brushed my teeth, wiping away the halitosis and then picked up my light track bike and headed out the door.
It takes me about ten minutes to get to the White Horse. Its about 15 blocks from my house on telegraph and 65th. I nodded to Rob as I walked in and looked up at the clock. I don't have to clock in but I like to be on time regardless, its a perverse work ethic and this is actually a job I like AND would like to keep. I set to work immediately filling up the ice buckets. I dumped the ice in the back room bar sinks and turned on the lights.
There were two women in the backroom, where the dance floor is located. They were rehearsing for their stripping show this Sunday. Every month a strip show is held at the bar, some of the proceeds go to an AIDS organization. The two women were playing around with some big feathery wings and taking off their bras. I snuck a few peeks at their breasts as I plugged in the lights, opened the back door, and put out the bar mats.
Setting up the back bar only takes 15 minutes and after my brief stint of work I did a sweep of the front rooms. The bar is composed of a main room with a pool table, and a smoking room/patio, that also holds a pool table. As usual it was pretty mellow with about 20 people in the bar. There weren't many glasses so I went to the back room to chat with my other coworkers as they counted their tills and what not.
There are a total of 7 workers on during the evening. There is the DJ, DJ Jay R, the backroom bartender, Isiah, the front bartenders, Winny and Robert, the admittance clerk, Roeholio, and the security guy, Charlie. I like all of them. Jay R is a nice, hip, kid in his mid twenties. He has a penchant for baseball caps and modern r &b. Isiah is a midwesterner and looks the part with his dirty blond hair, height, and dry wit. Robert is an outgoing guy who usually wears corny t-shirts like; "Sex Instructor, first lesson free," or "I shaved my balls for this." Winny the other bartender is a stout dyke with long red hair. She always wears a cap and has a pleasant demeanor. Rolieo is a tall Latino with a big grin, he enjoys playing the games on his cell phone as he collects the door fees. Charlie the security guy is a barrel chested douche, nuff said.

Bitchin about writing

My twin brother and I have something have a couple things in common. I suppose this is true of most twins. Sadly one of the first things that we share is our ugliness. On Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays, he's a shade uglier, I get the rest of the days of the week. I got the short side of the genetic stick. The other thing we have in common is that we both write. We write for different people, but we are both engaged in the act of writing.

James writes primarily to get published. He has been writing for the last three plus years, attempting to get his short essays and articles into various magazines (usually climbing related rags). He constantly has to go through editing and reediting processes. Not only is his written work never complete but he must constantly push his work. His pieces constantly get rejected from magazines. He thinks its a good sign when they write him a rejection letter back. Ouch.

My writing is for a different sphere. I do book reviews for AJODA and do short stories for myself. This writing is externally unrewarding. People will only comment on it when they hate it. Usually it passes beneath people's radar entirely. The good thing about this sphere is that getting published is much easier, although there is still an intensive editing process (usually with my cold hearted bitch editor). The bad thing is that you have to try to be critical, or at least pass yourself as being critical. I usually wax things over with a good schlacking of humour to show that I'm "critical."

Writing is hard work. To be a good writer you have to be diligent (I don't consider myself that good of a writer). You need to be sitting down and writing every day. Every day revising. Every day trying to hone your techniques. In many ways its similar to doing something like boxing, but instead of physical work, its mental, which doesn't make it any easier, or harder than boxing.

The pen

My writing has been sporadic lately, a little here, a little there. Even my letter response time has been lagging as I've gotten caught up in a relationship, the gym, work. All the things that make me put off my *cough* artsy hobbies. Having just ended one of the major time consuming relationships in my life I'll be writing more regularly again. Hopefully I'll be able to revive my once a week short stories series as well as do some miscellaneous writing as well. This tuesday I'll be restarting the short stories series. Any suggestions?