Whaddaya MEAN You've Never Heard of Me?!?

Our new cable has a feature that lets you watch 4 news channels at once, while only hearing one. It was handy during the DNC because CNN interviewed Obama's half-sister instead of actually playing Jennifer Grandholm's awesome speech. A few days later, I was using this feature and watching (the HATED) Mike Huckabee. And man...even for FOX, it was some crazy shit.

It was a story about how the IRS is going to church services and listening to what was being said. Huckabee talked about it as if jackbooted thugs were coming to burn down their churches and force people to not love Jesus or whatever. The truth of the matter, of course, is that the IRS is sick of extending non-profit, tax-exempt status to churches who advance a political agenda. Doing so is illegal, so government agencies are making sure no laws are being broken. But of course...FOX lives on instilling fear and have created a narrative that atheists and Muslims are taking over our beautiful, freer-than-free country and trying to obliterate the great American love of Jesus.

That, in my opinion, is the fantasy. The "were so oppressed and have no choice but to take arms against those who would dare disagree with us" stance. Then they go on to blame bad weather on God being mad at us. *yawn*

I hear all the time how my "liberal Dem" buddies and I are living in a fantasy world where allowing the poor to have basic food, shelter, medical care, etc guaranteed to them is a good thing. A magical land where everyone has dignity and therefore is more likely to become a contributing member of society. Madness, amirite? I mean, there's no real precedent for it, right? Except for Canada, Australia, and all over Europe and free parts of Asia.

I was even told recently that I needed facts and numbers to support my assertion that America shouldn't be run like a business. A business exists to make money for its shareholders, and most of us don't have enough money to get a full share of anything. Businesses only care about those whom they have chosen to represent them. Everyone else is hoisted out by security. Businesses hang cameras everywhere to secure their product from internal and external thieves. And Right-to-Work essentially means that labor means fuckall to them, because there's always more people desperate enough to do the labor. America is not a business, we're a collection of people not commodities. We elect a President, not a CEO.

Then there's the laughable assertion that the U.S. is a flawless Meritocracy. Everyone's success is directly tied to how much effort you, personally, put in. No luck, no nepotism, no help from anyone--especially the government. That's why the snobby rich children of snobby rich assholes end up working at McDonalds while the brilliant children of crackheads are now prominent physicians.
Oh wait, that never happens. America simply doesn't allow for it. Oh sure, people will hold up examples like Steve Jobs and Bill Gates (neither of whom actually started out poor or disenfranchised), but that's two people out of millions. Americans are taught to respect and admire people who've made something out of nothing, but how many people like that do you actually know? The Facebook guy? Well, if you're already in a nice college somewhere, you're WAY ahead of the game. The idea that a privileged fuck like Romney should be respected for all he's achieved (translation: how much money he's made) is obscene. Is there a Romney product in every home? No. Do tons more Americans have living-wage jobs because of Romney? Again, no. Did Paul Ryan's family get ALL their money from government programs? That one's a yes.

So this idea that all you have to do to be successful and own a home, car, and put your kids through school is work really, really hard and that EVERYONE can and should do it? Or that anyone who isn't able to make that happen isn't a victim of circumstance, they're just plan lazy? It's bullshit. Verifiably so. These GOP nutters either know it's crap when they say it, or they're actually so deluded and out of touch with working America that they think it's true. Maybe Ann Romney thinks surviving ONLY on interest from a trust is "roughing it." Maybe she has no idea that many Americans don't have homes and cars and other things she has multiples of.

The fantasy is this idea that people who aren't making it don't actually need any help. The fantasy is the America where Christians are being picked on because all of our secular laws aren't tailored to the sensibilities of the loudest among them. The fantasy is the America where huge swaths of disenfranchised, dejected, often homeless and/or mentally ill Americans will stop wanting to do drugs if we can make TV PSA's effective enough. Or that fantasy where school budgets are slashed over and over, and insane emphasis placed on standardized testing will somehow produce a generation of people capable of reading, algebra, and independent thought.

The fantasy isn't that everyone is capable of contributing in a meaningful way. That's reality.

The fantasy is this idea that if people aren't contributing, it isn't because they need help or because something is wrong--it's because they are lazy or hate freedom or don't have enough Jesus in their life. As I was saying on FB recently, If we can just start with the presumption that everyone is doing the best they can, we could leap-frog over a lot of the bullshit and get down to the task of helping improve people's lives.

If you meet a guy with no money at all, support borne of love and friendship can often get him back on his feet. If you meet a guy with no love or friendship, he's gonna be a miserable fucker no matter how monetarily rich he may eventually get. For serious.

You'll all be delighted to learn that I am over my harrowing experience with almost getting scammed. My "recruiter" is still trying to reach me via Email and text to find out why I haven't completed my "assignment." Eat a dick, buddy!


I sent a query to a small house (that does reprints *rubs hands together in sinister gesture*) over the weekend since I finally finished the summary for The Finster Effect. Fuck, I hate summaries. I got an Email back on Monday asking for the synops and 5 chapters. I sent it. Waiting...
Also going to be checking in to a few other houses.

Since I've started trying to be a novelist, I think my writing has gotten pretty good. Without any extra formal training, I've developed a strong narrative voice. In face, my narrative voice has become more controlled and assertive from book to book. I've learned that I can't write a 3rd person POV with anywhere near the truthiness of the 1st person. My dialogue kicks ass. And my plotting skills are improving, though certainly not at the same rate as my character development, which is, if I do say so myself, stunning.

But...the editing. All of my books have different editors. My experience has been that editors at small houses don't really do what I was expecting editors to do. I thought an editor was supposed to find typos and stuff...but also to find ways to improve the book. I thought they would suggest cuts or adding things to explain them more fully, or to generally come up with things to streamline things, or make them more clear, more scary, whatever. My hope was that over time, I'd develop a relationship with a particular editor, and would learn and grow as a writer because of their input.

What I've been getting are editors who attempt to correct typos, and maybe point out a glaring inconsistency or plot hole. That's it.

Am I expecting too much from small houses? Or too much in general? Am I not really famous enough to score that kind of editing? I'm not entirely sure what's happening here, or what I can do to fix it. Could it be that small house editors are really just writers with proofing skills who don't have the confidence or objectivity to make editorial suggestions?

I recognize that I could do with more formal training in the world of writing. Since I can't afford it, I try to read as many different authors as I can. Certain books are so good that they change your whole perspective on shit--even making you think for a day or two that you shouldn't be writing at ALL if that's what other people are doing.

I feel a little too old for grad school at this point. Even if I could go, I could never afford it. But I could really do with a couple years of writing with hardcore critique and intensive networking with other writers.

That said, I am no longer trying to get a professional advance and join HWA as a full member. Instead, I'm looking for a smaller advance so I can join as an associate member. Associate members get assigned mentors, which sounds like just the thing I need. Then maybe someone can paint MY face up like a zombie and film me while I run around outside. Hahahahahahaa! (It's funny because that's what I did with my protege)

I think Daniel Tosh is pretty funny. I'm also a fan of Family Guy, South Park, and a few other humorous programs that are largely aimed at boys in their 20's. I further think that Trey and Matt, Seth McFarland, Dave Chapelle and Daniel Tosh are much smarter than they appear and some are masters at their particular craft. (Okay, Tosh is no John Oliver, but he's getting there.) This week, rape-victims and non rape-victims alike have raised their collective voices in declaring blood feud against Daniel Tosh after an incident during a recent stand-up gig.

Let's start with the amusing headline Daniel Tosh wishes rape on heckler, shall we? A stand up comedian is doing some stand up comedy. The comedian is Daniel Tosh, and some of the comedy is about rape. Carlin did rape jokes, as did Lenny Bruce, Richard Pryor, Wanda Sykes, and plenty of other people whose names escape me at the moment. And some woman in the audience thought she ought to tell Tosh that "rape jokes are never funny." Apparently, she thought was the US Secretary of Comedy or some shit...

Forbidden Humor is a conversation I've had with plenty of passionate, well-meaning people of both genders. In brief, I think:
--No topic should ever be completely off limits for comedy.
--Comedy is FAR too valuable as a coping tool for anyone to create an arbitrary standard for which subjects no one may be allowed to take lightly.
--There's a difference between "this isn't funny to me" and "joking about this is morally wrong."
--Saying no subject should be off limits is NOT the same as defending any particular joke regardless of taste, hate-quotient, cruel intent, or ignorance.

As to this particular incident, I can understand why people are upset. But I reject the characterization that Tosh "wished rape" on a woman because he heckled her back. If you find tasteless jokes upsetting, going to see Tosh seems like a dumb thing to do. If you didn't know how offended you'd be, the polite thing to do is to leave quietly if it becomes too much for you. If you're SO offended that you feel you have NO OPTION other than to interrupt someone's rehearsed performance, by all means feel free to do so.
But bear in mind though that you've voluntarily climbed into the hot seat, surrounded by people who have paid good money to cheer the other guy. He has to keep control of the room or he's sunk. What kind of a reaction was she expecting? Would it have been less rude of him to tell her to go the fuck home?

So no, Tosh heckling back during a set of rape jokes does not really equal him "wishing" that some rude woman in a club gets gang raped...at least not to anyone who's ever met a human being before. We all say stupid shit when we're flustered, tired, angry, nervous, whatever. Granted, Tosh has a long history of tasteless jokes and plenty of things that anger feminists. And like my experiences with American Psycho, I can't fucking stand it when my liberal feminists pals feel like they get to judge me or label me as "part of the problem," or the omnipresent threat of unfriending all who disagree. Yeah, that's why America has free speech, so we can refuse to talk to each other like a bunch of fucking playground babies if we disagree and are also angry...that'll solve everything.

From my own experience, I've been heckled while speaking to a crowd. I heckled back, and know that someone laughed somewhere in there. After the speech, I needed to ask other people what I'd actually said because I had no fucking idea. I was so nervous I wanted to puke. I could have called my heckler a lesbian Hitler in blackface and I wouldn't have fucking remembered.

Let's look for a mo' at what this heckler had to say for herself: I did it because, even though being “disruptive” is against my nature, I felt that sitting there and saying nothing, or leaving quietly, would have been against my values as a person and as a woman. I don’t sit there while someone tells me how I should feel about something as profound and damaging as rape.

Ah, so essentially, she didn't want to be disruptive, she had to. Being polite was against her values...her values that said she needed to let a comedian know in the middle of his act that she didn't find him funny. And when the guy trying to perform had the nerve to disagree, her values dictated that she continued to argue with him. You know, for all rape victims everywhere...or something.

Honestly, I'm not trying to mock her. I'm trying to point out how stupid it is to make some sort of ridiculous faux stand in a rude way and then attack the performer because his off the cuff reaction was no less to your liking than his prepared remarks. No one is forcing you to hear comedy that you don't like. And comedy that you don't like isn't hurting you. And making a joke about rape isn't the same as laughing AT someone who's been raped.

Was Tosh's joke tasteless? Sure, probably. Does him making that joke necessarily mean that he delights in violent sexual assault and daydreams about his hecklers being sodomized? No.
Does this woman need to be "less sensitive?" Also No. But if she doesn't like a show, she should not see it, or protest through the usual channels, or tell Tosh after the show, or be ready for a shitstorm when she starts one.
Honestly, some of the stuff on Tosh's show grosses me out and I have to turn away lest I start gagging. See how that works, I can stop watching something instead of insisting that everything my eyes can see has to tailor itself to my specific tastes. Ahhhhhhhh...merica!

EDIT: (Saturday morning, 3:34am) I didn't think this needed explaining, but apparently it does. The Daniel Tosh you see on TV and in stand-up is a character. You know, like the way Stephen Colbert plays a character. Yes, it's a radically different character. But it's baffling to me how many people honestly think that Tosh was literally saying that he'd enjoy and find humor in a woman being violently gang raped in front of him. And more baffling considering how many of the people going batshit about it are every bit as sarcastic as Tosh. Oh, sarcasm isn't supposed to be taken literally? You don't say? I presumed that if the subject matter was uncomfortable, I was supposed to assume everything said is intended literally. Else how can I show my solidarity/support for rape victims?
I'm also growing weary of the overwhelming percentage of people who feel they must quantify their remarks by revealing whether or not they've been raped. That's just weird to me. I don't get it.

Apparently I also need to point out that I don't think rape is hilarious as a rule. I understand fully that it's a horrible thing, a serious issue, and something all men should be taught from childhood is a gross violation of the very concept of humanity. That's exactly why it can be vital to use humor to address, diffuse, and deconstruct so-called rape culture. While one could certainly argue that this was not Tosh's intention, look at the discourse that's happened due to this event. It ranges from mindless to profound, and rises to the level of a internet trollish car wreck, but people have discussed rape more in the last three days since the last time they tried to arrest Julian Assange.
And SOME people have to walk away from that with a greater understanding of the issues surrounding rape than they had going in.

I'm in my 40's. I can remember a time when that seemed ridiculously old. I can remember learning that my grandfather was *gasp* 54 and it seemed like the oldest thing in all of time.

Not having kids means I get to continue to live like a teenager in many ways, despite my advanceD decrepitude. And face it, decades of sloth and gluttony have indeed rendered me a bit less jaunty than other peeps my age. I'm working on strength training so I can eventually get into the house of horrors that is Cardio. But yeah, for a 40-something, I feel pretty tired, sore, and old.

That said...I learned today that another friend of mine is dying due to one of those things that people blame on fatness, AND/or "not taking care of yourself." I've not seen this dude in years, so I have no idea what his habits are. But he's a Big Guy, which means there's always some douchebag who will blame bad health on being heavy with absolutely no other facts.

It scares the hell out of me knowing that people my age are dying from this kind of shit. My right foot has been numb, which gives me constant nightmares about doctors coming in to cut it off in the night. My knees are bad, and it's difficult for me to get up off the floor by myself. I'm not ready for LifeAlert or anything, but the very idea that I could fall and take 20 seconds or more to stand back up again? Yikes. Fucking...yikes. I mean, what if I couldn't stand up at all? I can't even imagine.

I figured that since Stephe--excuse me, Richard Bachman's book/novella, Rage is no longer in print, that it wouldn't chafe any balls for me to download it as a pdf, and reformat it for my shiny new Kindle. So I did. Like most sad freaks with brains, I read Mr King voraciously as a kid ("kid" in this case, meaning age 10 thru getting the hell out of that house at 17, and then through my 20's). I loved the short stories in particular, and indeed went through multiple copies of both Night Shift and Skeleton Crew (that had the same terrifying monkey on the front that my Grandpa had in his basement). King is the guy who first taught me about the effectiveness of different POV's. Personally, I find that 1st person is the only POV I can write convincingly, the only truthy option for me. King taught me tons about how to craft a story, how to scare people, how to keep things hidden from the reader while looking like you're baring it all. And this was years before he wrote Danse Macabre and On Writing. He took horror seriously, in a way that few others did. He was, and is, a fucking genius. I want to nut-punch these asshats who bitch that King is no good anymore the same way drunk dickheads in their 20's complain that The Simpsons just aren't as funny as it was when it started--you know, before they were even in the womb. If you deny the genius of, or the effect that Stephen King has had on horror, and all literature, then you're either functionally illiterate, or a total asshat.

So...
I finished re-re reading RAGE about an hour ago. I intended to sit right down and write this, but having a houseguest makes every non-bathroom task take thrice as long as it should. I honestly believe that RAGE is King's best and most truthful book. My short story, Whitman, I ain't is loosely based on it. And while I didn't realize it until recently, my first novel, A Stabbing for Sadie is really just a novel-length attempt to capture the feel and style of Charlie Decker and his Fantastical Adventure in Getting it on.

It pains and saddens me that King wanted RAGE out of print. I'm aware that at least 2 kids who shot up 2 different schools had copies of this book when their rooms were searched. Searching a kid's room and taking guesses as to why he did what he did is something Decker would have taken profound exception to. I understand fully how potent the power of a book can be. I know that some of the books I've read have changed my life and the way I live it. And I'm pretty sure there are books that have affected me so subtly, that I'm not even aware of their influence. I admit that. Non-sarcastically. Really, I do.

But...people need books. They need to hear and feel and think in a different way. They need to at least consider my oft-asserted premise that there is no such thing as evil people. That's important, so I'm going to say it again:

There is no such thing as evil people.

Yes, people do evil things. They kill, hurt or hunt for pleasure, they steal and lie and do all manner of ghastly shit. But I'm telling you, these people are BROKEN. They are not inherently evil. You don't repeatedly throw your iPhone on the pavement and then blame the web browser when it stops working. You don't hit a kid for years and then wonder why he's angry. You don't lie to someone over and over and then wonder why they no longer trust you. You don't treat someone like ass, again and again for their whole damn lives and then act all shocked and surprised when they do something back. Oh wait...lots of people do that. Tons. Maybe even the majority.
And that's why we like to slap the label "Evil" on behavior that we don't like. It totally takes the burden off the shitty things we do that make other people what they are. Sure, we all have choices, and we all have to take responsibility for what we do. All of us. That includes not blaming a book for a kid that everyone around him had a hand in breaking, and the kid who may or may not cite the book as his inspiration. I think that's something adults foist on kids more than something kids actually do. If Ozzy or the guys from Judas Priest were here, I imagine they'd agree.

I wanted to get out there and tear shit up as a kid. I wanted to make good ol' mater feel as bad as she made me feel. I didn't exactly know how, but I had a few ideas. In high school, I once had a therapy session where we role played me putting poison in her bottle of Mountain Dew. I had said to the doc I was sure I'd feel terrible. But when we role played it, I laughed. A giggle at first, then more--and by the end I was like a cackling supervillian. I didn't want to hurt people. Not really. But to be powerful, for just a few minutes? Yes. Just...yes.

That's how I always felt about Charlie Decker. Charlie cozying up to his Id warmed my sad, adolescent heart. It's why I didn't ever start a fire in MY locker--why I didn't carry a gun to class (although I did spend a few years in college carrying a big knife for some reason. I felt nearly naked without it), or actually physically hurt anybody. Eventually, I was able to get out of a terrible situation, then another, then another, and get the help I needed. I used to kind of wish Stephen King would tell us what ever happened to Charlie Decker like he's about to with Danny Torrance. He hasn't, but I like to think Charlie was able to figure shit out, and that he turned out a lot like me.

Another birthday.
So goes my stubborn refusal to die.

I can't shuffle off this mortal coil until I finish this book. It's THAT good.

What did I do this year? Let's make a list.
Bitches love lists.

1. Kept my day job. That was a close one.

2. Picking Brains with Wednesday Lee Friday has been awesome. I've interviewed some amazing people; and zombie fans are starting to notice who the hell I am--which is good, because I have a zombie novel coming out.

3. The new book. It's awesome. I won't belabor the point.

4. New publisher who is ready to drop some serious marketing behind me. And there was much rejoicing.

5. Finished the first Angry Birds. If you knew how bad I suck at video games, you'll know that's fucking amazing.

6. Figured out why I've needed a nap since approximately 1994. CPAP machine slowly making life better and me more productive. HAES lifestyle also progressing well.

7. I have a real, live relationship with my brother. He's awesome.

8. Aside from being poor, my life is awesome. H is the perfect man for me. Really. The perfect one. That such a thing would happen to me is fucking mind boggling. For serious.

9. Party Saturday night. That may not seem like an accomplishment. But I gotta tell you, I throw a party every year and a bunch of amazing people always show up. I don't like to throw around the word "blessed" for many reasons, but it seems like the perfect word to describe the people I am fortunate enough to know and love and be loved by. You've come a long way, wednes!

10. Became comfortable enough with myself that I can post unstaged, uncropped pics of myself online, as referenced here.

Unprimped, unretouched, uncropped, pic wherein I didn't even brush my hair. That's how little I care.

Oh, and Happy Thanksgiving! We're having salmon with horseradish sauce and mashed potatoes with bacon and cheddar cheese. You know, like the pilgrims would have. Hold the smallpox.

Been getting a lot of friend requests lately that feature a peeve of mine. I won't post pics as examples because I don't want to embarrass anyone, and because I think you'll all get me on this. But it's the artful, clever ways that fat women (men may do this too, but I don't see it nearly as much on the internets) attempt to hide their double chin. After all, double chin means *gasp* FAT!

There are lots of reasons people do this, many if not most of these have to do with embarrassment at being perceived as fat--with all that entails. They don't want people to see how fat they are, or how fat they've gotten (a girl who teased me mercilessly in school for being fat actually told me this), or my favorite--how fat they LOOK. Apparently they aren't fat, it just looks like they are. I'm as guilty of this as anyone, though I'm trying really hard to stop.
Obviously, the internet being what it is, a person can make and maintain long friendships, or even romantic relationships without other people having any idea what they look or sound like.

When you learn that a person you totally like and respect is say, fat, very skinny, acne-covered, or of a race or gender you weren't aware of--how does that affect your opinion of a person (assuming they haven't outright lied about anything)? Does it? Should it?

I know what people are afraid of. It's the same reason people go on crazy diets and have elective surgeries--because they live in a world where they're told absolutely ANYTHING is better than being fat. I won't bother linking to that famous poll of 5th grade girls who said they'd rather be in a wheelchair than fat. Getting things off your chest is good. Being honest is good. Fighting bigotry, bullying, and shaming is good. Coming Out is good.

So, here's what I propose:

I hear a lot about people who "drop the bombshell" about this or that at Thanksgiving. The whole family is together, so it's the perfect time to let it be known that a family member is gay, pregnant, joining the military, voting Republican, or whatever else they've been neglecting to come clean about.

I propose that we all Come Out as ourselves this holiday season. I move that we post unretouched, unshopped, candid photos of ourselves without any artful cropping of this or that "unflattering" body part. Some of us are fat. We're still smart, articulate, creative, and all the other wonderful things that make us, us. I think people should know that, or be reminded of that, or at the very least, know that not everyone agrees that fat people are ugly, lazy, should be hidden, etc etc etc.

Guess what? People you know in your life see you just as you are. Don't you think it's time everyone did? Even if you're one of those shy types who doesn't actually believe they are beautiful--if you EVER leave the house, you could (and should, IMO) at least embrace the idea that you are NOT too hideous to be seen by sunlight (or a camera flash).

This is not really as articulate as I intended to make it, but if you read my "Fat" tag often, you'll know that I have a ton to say on this topic. Maybe you know a woman or young girl who needs to hear about this and participate. So you know, spread the word.

If you've been reading me for a while, you'll know that I've had runs ins with plenty of people over language changing over time. Both "Gang Bang" and "Trippin" have changed in definition since I was in high school, leading to some ridiculous and needlessly adversarial exchanges. I've talked plenty of times about the phrase "That's so Gay" being used to imply negativity. I maintain that the word Gay has changed meaning already, and that the word itself is less important than the intention of the user. I will never EVER get behind the idea that certain words are only okay for certain people to use.

It is well known that we think in language, yet it is often suggested that we not use certain words under the general heading that they are OFFENSIVE. Offensive means that someone is offended. There is no universal barometer of offense, no one thing that no one or everyone finds offensive. My first rule about taking offense is: the offending party must admit that they are personally offended, rather than making a reference to some general standard for offense that's been violated. If I say something that personally offends someone in the room, I want to address that and talk it out. If someone is asserting that some words shouldn't ever be uttered due to their terribly offensive qualities, I could give a rat's ass. People and their feelings are of concern to me, ethically and morally. Abstract concepts and their arbitrary applications, not so much.

Lately, I've seen this applied to comedy as well. Purportedly, there are some subjects that should never be made light of because they are just too offensive and/or serious. Apparently Ricky Gervais is a big mean guy for saying outloud that Robert Downey Jr used to have a huge drug problem. Goodness me, how offensive!
Moreso, it is even suggested that people who don't agree with this party line on offense are less worthy of basic human courtesy and respect. Basically an argument of Oh, you don't agree with me? Then you're an asshole who can fuck right off. I don't mind telling you that I find THAT pretty goddamn offensive. Can we really ever work out our differences if we assume that a difference of opinion equates to a difference in how much basic human courtesy and respect some people deserve? I gotta say no.
Then there's the idea that if one doesn't tow the party line on an issue, it's because one must not realize how awful *thing* is, else we'd know that it should never be joked about. The old Well, maybe if you'd been kidnapped/murdered/raped/set on fire/had a retarded child/been in a plane crash/etc then you'd know how awful it is. Certainly there is something to be said for learning about your fellow humans by walking in their shoes. But the idea that if we all had the same life experiences, then we'd all agree is as ludicrous as it is misguided.

IMHO, nothing...and I do mean NOTHING is too sacred to mock. Of course, there's a big difference between a Chapelle Show sketch and a KKK pamphlet. Personally, I don't care for the word Nigger, and I seldom have occasion to use it. If I did use it, though, that alone would not make me a racist. If I used that word, and someone then assumed I was racist, I would expect/hope they would inquire, at which point I would happily explain my stance. Of course, non-reactive, good communication is required to make this work.
There is a line of thinking that in comedy, one must go "too far" so that one's audience will go far enough. I concur. I think people like George Carlin, Seth McFarland, Dave Chapelle, and Ricky Gervais are/were goddamn hilarious and should continue to challenge us all with humor and words that invite us to think critically and express ourselves as completely and accurately as possible.
Even though I am jack-sprat-nobody as far as novelists go, I have taken a fair amount of shit for making evil monsters seem sympathetic, and don't I know how dangerous that is?!? Yadda yadda yaketi shmacketi. I think KMLYLM is a gripping character study of a psychotic mind, the purpose of which is to say that no so-called evil deed happens in a vacuum. The idea that my books shouldn't exist because some crazy man might get the wrong message is, to put it simply, bad. The thing that will break down barriers and improve human relationships with other humans (etc) is MORE open communication, not less. Stifling words, thoughts, jokes, and language because it makes us feel all oogy impedes our progression as critical thinkers, and as humans far more than any asshat making off color, tasteless, or insensitive jokes.

EDIT: I'd like to add that with great power comes great responsibility. (Yes, it's from Spiderman)
All this freedom of speech is predicated on the hope that human beings will NOT behave like malicious hateful ignorant assholes.

When I was in elementary school, and again in college, they told us basically the following:

If all the time of the earth from it's inception until today,
was 24-hours,
man would have shown up at 1 minute to midnight.
That is to say, we showed up at the very, very end.

It seems like perhaps the universe puts "intelligent" (in quotes to imply whatever the hell THAT means) life on a planet for a specific reason. I might even suggest that it's for the express purpose of running that planet into the ground. Or blowing it to smithereens--both of which we have already done or are perfectly capable of doing thanks to technology we developed wholly on purpose. Our sole purpose here may be to bring about the planet's demise. In which case--we're doing a bang-up job!

In the premiere episode of The Sopranos, Tony has this great monologue. It's about how it's good to be at the beginning of something. And that these days he felt as if he was coming in at the end. Prophetic, seeing as how he ( *spoiler alert* ) Ya know? I kinda feel like that may be the case with humanity. Or maybe it's just me. I hope not, yikes!

Here on Earth, there is much ado about how we define that which we do not know. Why are we here? What happens when we die? Who made the planet--and us? How long ago? What else is out there? Humans go to war over that, countless people dying needlessly. But what if whatever it is is larger than the United States, the planet Earth, our Solar System, the milky way even...and beyond? What then? Are we all going to some intergalactic plane of torment because we didn't know we should revere a super space God? Probably not, but who the hell knows?

It certainly stands to reason that if there is a single higher power, that it controls more than this one planet. So if you want to be One with The Universe you might want to set about the task of finding out who that it, and how we may appease them.


In other news, my head has been hurting me and giving me weird kinds of throbbing and tingling, and feeling heavy. Wednes no like. Decided to start cutting those new pills I've been taking in half. They seem to be taking a lot out of me. Think it might also be time to get my hearing checked and maybe get a new head X-ray. It's been a while for me.

[Error: unknown template qotd]

Goodness, this *is* a can of worms, isn't it?

My birth name is Wednesday Lee Xsomething polishX. My mom had it legally changed when she got remarried just before I turned two, I think. I remembered my "old name" and had no understanding of why my name was changed, or why my mom got so mad when I mentioned it. For $50 more, my mom had my birth certificate changed also and my birth record sealed. Today, as a 39 year old woman, I still am not able to legally obtain my own goddamn birth certificate with my actual birth name on it. My mom has a copy, though. I've seen it, while snooping.

My next name, Wednesday Lee Xsomething germanX, is the name I kept for the longest--until 1992 when I informally changed my name to Lilith Ng (Lilith after the mythological Lilith, and Ng because nobody knew how to pronounce it). I used that name in jobs, as a phonesex gal (thought I had several other names for that as well) and for dating websites. It didn't really stick, and when I moved from Saline to Ypsilanti/Ann Arbor, I decided to become Wednesday Lee Friday. I am named after Wednesday Friday Addams, so that made sense to me. I wanted to change it legally, but couldn't afford it. I figured I'd just change it to a hyphenated name when I got married--but they guy at Secretary of State said I had to get a court order to do that.

Legally, my married name became Wednesday Lee XH's last nameX and I'm Wednesday Lee Friday professionally, socially, on the Internets, and pretty much everywhere that isn't my day-job, or around my husband's family.

I have found that changing my name tends to be an empowering experience, even moreso than cutting my own hair. It's a way to take some control over my life and my own bad self. Even though it's difficult to google, Wednesday Lee Friday is an awesome name IMHO.
I think it suits me just fine.

I want to talk about grammar. I do that every now and again. I'm well aware that new technology unfailingly brings with it dissenters who rail on with doomsday scenarios about how this cool new thing will destroy us all. I understand that, and I understand that such things should be approached with a fuckton of skepticism. I say this, freely admitting that if something makes sense to me, I'm less likely to be skeptical.

I am genuinely concerned that the Internets are destroying proper grammar. It honestly appears as if things like capitalization, punctuation, verb/subject agreement, and how many dots in an ellipse have eluded far too many people who insist on using written communication despite their lack of skill in it. Go to Lamebook; you will vomit.

It's good for a laugh when someone insists that "We speak enlish in ARE country [sic]." Are people really deciding that the way you use the (or misuse) language should not be a factor in how seriously we take your statement as a whole? Please say it hasn't. I want to be assured that on college applications, resumes, legal correspondence, etc that people are still required to use proper English. Of course, that's if you want to call the midwest American bastardization of the Queen's language...it's a wonder John "Cornelius" Oliver hasn't bitch-slapped every last one of us on her behalf.

I'm not talking about typos, even numerous typos. I'm certainly guilty of them, even with the miracle of spell check. In fact, spell check makes us lax. Not being sentient, it simply doesn't know what we're trying to say. If you're trying to masticate and it comes out massacre, I have to wonder how your grandmother is going to take that. At the very least, she'd think you didn't have good attention to detail. LOL I'm talking about people who aren't even trying. Why aren't they trying? How do we make them try? Why isn't it common knowledge that we try in order to respect our reader--so they don't have to get a headache from trying to figure out what the hell we're trying to say? I feel like I'm taking CRAZY PILLS.

I thought this was limited to kids. It's not. Lots of kids do this, but plenty of kids type just fine and use proper English, maybe with a bit o' slang. But who doesn't, right? I suspect that a lot of kids are doing it on purpose, but I'd be curious to know how many of them really think there's a word spelled L-U-D-A-C-R-I-S.

I was chatting with the husband of a former classmate on Facebook recently. He was about my age. Not knowing who he was, I expressed surprise at finding out he was a native English speaker. His language skills were just that horrible. His response? This is Facebook, not a writing class. Am I the only one who understands that the purpose of a writing class is so you can learn how to communicate properly OUTSIDE of writing class? It's to teach you a skill you can then utilize out in the world. Do some people honestly believe we only do things if we're being evaluated or praised for them? It's like when people say "If you're an atheist, how come you're not out robbing and killing people." As if a fear of divine punishment is the only reason not to do these things. Grrr?!? Communicating is one of, if not the most important thing we do in our lives. As my prof Wally used to say, "Communication is an intentional, transactional, symbolic process used to manage one's environment." That THAT, Guernica!

I know some of you are with me on this. Are we in actual danger of losing our connection with proper grammar, spelling, etc? I recognize that language evolves, and that texting changed things. But if you've got a QWERTY board, you really have no excuse, even if it's on your phone. Try. Just...try. If you've got time to post to the internet what you had for lunch, you have time to write the words "tuna melt."

You know, the more I think about this South Park business, the angrier I get.
And the only thing I can think of to say is:





It's old news, people. And while I don't have a choir backing me up like some people, my resounding chorus of "Go Fuck Yourself" still rings out in the night, that all terrorists may hear it and know that we are not afraid of them and their veiled threats of violence against artists. Yeah, I'm a total badass from the comfort of my own home while I'm sitting here alone at my keyboard. But dammit, we take free expression seriously in this country.
Besides, many if not most Muslims do not actually believe that it is heretical to create and display representations of Mohammed. When I used to work at McDonalds, I worked with a guy named "Muhammed." We were allowed to say his name without getting bleeped. Simpler times...



In other news, I'm auditioning people for the role of The Narrator in the podcast of the new book. So even though my Mikey is sheer perfection, I have to remix everything I have so far once I get the new narrator vocal. I may go ahead and recut some A Stabbing for Sadie chapters and post those during the delay. Pretty soon, my website will be updated and I'll be posting all my new podcasts from there, where you can subscribe through iTunes if you are so inclined.

Note: this turned out longer than I expected. But I'm not cutting it, because it also turned out more fascinating than I expected.



I am an incredibly self-absorbed person. There's no denying it. The advancement of all things Wednes is my number one priority in life. My writing. My well-being. My happiness. There are plenty of people I love and enjoy sharing my life with, and sharing in theirs. But me first. I'm number one. I do not consider this a bad thing, even though the term self-absorbed has a negative connotation. I consider it a healthy, proactive stance on things. Still, it is not without it's down side.

Like my dear friend Sadie, *snerk* everything in my life is processed in relation to me. For all my talk of people being the sum total of their life experience, limited or advanced by their physicality, I can be woefully forgetful of the fact that not everyone knows what I know, or has done what I've done. This leads to scenarios where someone thinks I'm dis'ing them because they don't know something--when actually I'm trying NOT to insult them by implying they didn't know it. Eg:

Me: JD Salinger died. I can't believe some of the stuff people are saying about him online.

They: Who's JD Salinger?

Me: Really? 0^o

They: YES, really! I'm sorry I don't know every actor in the world.

Me: Actually, he's--you know what? Nevermind.

And then I look like a tool. But yeah, if I know something, I tend to assume that everyone knows it, or should know it. I remind myself that my 15-years-younger-than-me-co-workers aren't going to get my reference to "The Ropers" spin-off show. Hell, I had to explain "Jump the Shark" to one of the 3 hippest chicks in my department. (Sasha, if you are still internet stalking me, the other two and Renee and Ariana) The only exceptions would be things I have formally studied, or things that I am rabidly fanatical about. But even then, if you tell me you're a Simpsons fan, I will fully expect you to be able to spell Apu's last name. If you "love" Harry Potter but don't know Albus P.W.B. Dumbledore's brother's name, I will think you lame. Sorry.

But this philosophy of mine often extends to the world at large. I forget that there are people who still watch Smallville because I stopped watching it years ago. When Stephen King stopped focusing on horror, I figured horror novels were over and stopped reading them. I read a few horror classics I'd been meaning to get to, then I moved on to other genres. A lot of true crime, psychology, comparative religions, and Christopher Moore (who really is a genre unto himself). I'm only just now getting back to horror. The fact that I'm just now discovering Jack Ketchum is as absurd as me not discovering Voltaire until 2009. Then again, I'm having a great time reading Ketchum in that way you can enjoy something the very first time. *cue juvenile virginity joke* I mean, think about the first time you read a book that made you look differently at the most important things that you do in life. Ketchum inspires me to be a better writer. In fact, it's kind of fucking with me how much I adore him. This stuff is fucking terrifying. I can't even tell you how much I want to do what he does (and the fact that I can't tell you is indicative of what I'm saying here). I feel like in some ways, Kiss Me Like You Love Me is derivative of him--even though I hadn't read him at all yet when I wrote it. And the fear of being a derivative crapshack of a writer totally keeps me up at night. Really.
Ketchum was always on my long-term list of stuff to read. After Sadie came out people started asking me if I had read him, or if I was "inspired" by him. After Kiss Me got released, people started asking me again. Honest people, I had never read him before. And damn, is he good.

Looking back, I forgot that I even wanted to be a writer just because people stopped assigning me things to write. That's how much focus I lacked. Between mental illness and an *ahem* colorful upbringing, I stayed good and crazy for some time. Can you even imagine what would have happened if this new book came out in 1995 instead of now? Truth is, I don't think I could have written A Stabbing for Sadie at any other time then when I wrote it. My best rough writing is a blitz attack. I used to think being a published writer was a ridiculously unattainable goal. Now I tell everyone who asks that it's easier than ever to get published these days. I base that on no other fact than that I am published; and that there are a lot of shitty-looking books being hyped on FB. Is this viewpoint a low-self-esteem thing? Maybe? I don't know. I'm over analyzing now.

All of this stands to reason, so far as logic goes. But frankly, I worry that my own life experience is blinding me from seeing other people fully. Sometimes I feel remarkably blind to things that are right in front of me, that I feel like I should have noticed if I'd paid any attention at all. When I advertised The Cat's Apprentice, I didn't actually tell advertise that it was about chicks who turn into cats. I forgot that's what it was about, because to me, it was about a bunch of other stuff. Revenge and empowerment and relationships and stuff. But that all makes me feel pretentious and elitists. But that may just be the Oh, so you think you're too good for us now rhetoric I used to deal with. Maybe my expectations for what I should know are just too high.

Conversely, I might just feel this way because if I meet anyone interesting, I want to know how they tick. I want to explore why they like what they like, how they've arrived at their conclusions about the world--especially if those conclusions are radically different than mine. I want to know their parents, their siblings, I want to see where they spend their free time and what there favorite fast food is. I just want to know. Maybe it's intrusive for me to want to know all that stuff. It makes me want to half-assed amateur shrink everyone I know--especially the dysfunctional ones. And deep down, we're all dysfunctional in one way or another. It's just a matter of degree, and specific manifestation.

Or...maybe I'm overanalyzing my thought processes as part of an elaborate self-delusion to escape the knowledge that I'm actually a sociopath. Or...maybe I should watch less Criminal Minds (NEVER!!!!!).


O/T I realized today that I've been giving FOX my Sunday nights for over 20 years. It sounds impressive or a sign of loyalty, but it might just be sad. I haven't decided.

Quickly, I'd like to mention that my signing over the weekend was a ton of fun. I didn't expect any of my local peeps to make the drive, so it was cool that some of you did. Had a swell time reconnecting with my old college friend, and meeting his wife. Sold some books and CD's. The CD was indeed, ready on time, though the mixes themselves are not as loud as they should be. So when these 30 or so discs are gone, I'll be remixing--and of course, remixing before the podcasts begin.


I've been meaning to write a rant about something. Despite the fact that Obama has still not tried to take anyone's guns or murder anyone's grandmother, people still can't seem to shut up about all the things they're frightened of. The Patriot Act didn't scare them, but the prospect of poor people causing longer wait times (not for emergency or life-threatening things, but for annual physicals and such) is arma-fucking-geddon. People are actually stock-piling weapons, yelling racial or homophobic remarks at members on congress--and their families! People have brought high powered weapons to Obama's appearances, (and can I just mention that Mozilla's spellchecker does not recognize Obama, but has no problem with McCain. WTF?) and not getting arrested or tackled by secret service.
People act like it's their god-given *snerk* duty to disrupt town hall meetings, completely forgetting that the last president wouldn't even allow people into a town hall meeting unless they (and I'm not joking here) signed a loyalty oath. How very American. And for what? To make sure poor people can't go to the doctor. When did it become awesome to deliberately subvert the goals of the POTUS? Isn't that treason? How is it not? Again, the excuse people give for this madness is that they're "frightened" of what Obama will do. *cue Glenn Beck crying like a bitch*

Speaking of Mr Beck and his ilk, the fact that none of his so-called facts are verifiable is because he's pulling them out of his ass. It's NOT because he's the only one who's not afraid to tell it like it is. I'm not even a Christian, but this "social justice" nonsense and telling people to leave their churches is absurd. (Not to mention, if someone says something you disagree with, the solution is not to run away from them--it's to talk that shit out.) You'd think that when these people blatantly contradict themselves, that people would notice and hip themselves to the fact that they're full of shit. Rush promised to leave the country if health care passed (to a country that already has national health care) but here he still is. Can people really not recognize that these are braying asses weeping crocodile tears over nothing while lining their own pockets? Make no mistake, I'm not just upset because some asshats have shows and use them to espouse fear, racism, classism, homophobia, or just plain crazy talk. But the fact that so many people hear these clowns and not only nod and smile, but arm themselves and take to the town--it's terrifying. Terrifying.

So that's what scares me. Have you guys seen Soylent Green? Yes, the soylent is people. But for me, one the the scary future things is that most people don't have homes in the film. They sleep in the street, and the people who walk by them to go to their homes either totally ignore them, or rush past them in a hurry because they're afraid of getting robbed, careful not to make eye contact. You know, the way many people (don't) look at the homeless now. I'm afraid that we're turning into a country of people who blame victims of poverty and discrimination for their own plight. I am terrified at how many people dismiss the very real divide between haves and have nots in this country. A large number of people would rather shame, villify, or blame the poor--assuming they aren't trying very hard, than figure out a way to help people be less poor (or even help less people be poor.) Obviously, it's easier to assuage guilt over choosing to buy a pack of smokes or a $5 latte instead of helping someone hungry, if you've already decided that said hungry guy wouldn't be in that plight if he wasn't so lazy. Now this has extended to the point where tons of people are actually using threats and guns to advance the notion that poor people, brown people, gay people, or whomever else is not a Christian Republican, doesn't deserve anything they can't pay for with the money they make at their jobs--if they are lucky enough to even have jobs. Oh, they're mentally ill? Probably faking. They were born addicted to crack? Not my problem, some people shouldn't breed, but I'm not paying for their birth control. Oh, they've been abused, or homeless, or sold into prostitution? Too bad, they need to get over that shit.

Maybe I'm scared shitless at the idea that we're becoming a country that mocks intellectual curiosity and promotes fear and scorn of anything progressive. Maybe I'm horrified that these days, smart people are considered stupid. Maybe I'm disgusted that concepts like organic food, reading for pleasure, arts appreciation, inclusiveness, or diversity are seen as "pussy faggot commie shit." But guns, war, beer, sports, homophobia, and pushing back with violence are suddenly what every good Amer'can should be doing--lest they be called an arugula eating muslim.

I'm a little bit scared that while most of the people reading this are nodding in agreement, or deciding which specifics points they disagree with, some are not. If enough people do read it, you can bet at least one of them will think I should be shot or deported for these views. But dammit, I'm not going to arm myself because of a little fear. I'm not arming myself until the zombies come. Then again, I've hear FOX viewers called zombies on several occasions. Maybe I've been preparing for the wrong kind of holocaust all this time...

[Error: unknown template qotd]

I must confess that I have hurt people's feelings with my flip wit. It took me a long time to realize that just because something is timely and hilarious, it may or may NOT need to be exclaimed in front of a room full of people. I do think some people need to laugh at themselves more, even as I recognize that it's not my job to facilitate that if they aren't willing.

I have always been possessed of a rather biting sarcasm which I'm told is how angry people go about looking less angry than they are. When I was a very young kid, I tended to find a weaker kid and bully them--thinking I was being both strong and smart. Apparently this is common in kids who are getting smacked around a lot. It hadn't occurred to me that I might be a bully. I remember once hitting this girl on the head with a broom handle--then being surprised when she started crying. I had no real understanding of how my behavior affected others, or that I had the power to hurt people since usually, I felt completely powerless. I just didn't think I was important enough, particularly with my mother's constant message of "you're nothing special so stop pretending that you are."

These days, bulling is one of my hot-button issues, like abuse in general. This is particularly true when abusers (and even bystanders) blame the victim. Few things make me more pissed than when people are mistreated--then blamed because they don't take it well. The "you're being overly sensitive (of my dicketry)" excuse for being a fucking bully makes me choke on my own rage. I saw a T-shirt once that said RELAX, I'm just being a total asshole that I sorely wanted to buy for someone I think is a big, mean, bully. And of course, this person's lack of self esteem is both obvious and crippling. Kids don't always know better, but if you're 30, you have no fucking excuse.


In other news, I had a marketing stroke of genius this weekend. I'm putting together an audiobook sampler of some short stories and opening novel chapters. I'm gonna sell them for cheap and use it to hook people not just to my books, but to the podcast of the new novel I'm putting together. A guy I went to college with has agreed to read Mikey. And I'm still auditioning people for the Narrator. A couple of peeps asked about reading short stories, so I've sent out a bit of that as well. I'm hoping to record a Sadie chapter tonight or tomorrow, depending on how long it takes me. H is designing the cover and the CD's themselves (I got white-top ones so they can be printed on), and I ordered the discs and cases yesterday. So that is well under way. Happily, we'll be including a selection read by swayworn, and hopefully one read by porcelain72 as well.

Work-wise, I typed up a 3-4 page proposal on Saturday to further my sinister plan to rewrite some catalog copy. It contained many frank opinions and some specific examples of the kind of things I want to focus on. Hopefully it will be well received.

[Error: unknown template qotd]

This is a great question for me, because I've been thinking about this very thing as of late. Had you asked me, even 3 months ago, I would have said Christopher Moore without even thinking about it. I've only been reading him for about 6 years or so now, and he's goddamn good. His ability to tell us about horrible occurrences while making us laugh is impressive and amazing. His books are engaging and truthy and I find myself thinking about them long after I've read them.

Before that, obviously, I would have said either Margaret Atwood or Stephen King. Say what you want about Stephen King's current work. on the strength of his first 4 books alone, he deserves to be called King of Horror in perpetuity. There is none higher; Suckah James Patterson should call him Sire!

That said, Jack Ketchum (NOT his real name, as it turns out) is impressing the hell out of me. The Girl Next Door is a tremendously moving, despite that vacuous POS movie they made out of it. I've got some of his other stuff on my list. It seems that Village Voice accused him of writing gratuitous torture porn or some such. Often times, when people use the word "gratuitous" they're saying something closer to I don't understand what they're trying to do. Also, I don't like what I'm feeling. Guess what? It's horror, and you're not supposed to like it.

So really, those are the people I emulate. I want to be gripping, memorable, relevant, and (dare I say it?) widely read. I want to scare the hell out of people, but I also want to give them perspective and hopefully encourage understanding and empathy.

[Error: unknown template qotd]

Okay, so Haiti had a terrible disaster that is rendering people without the basics they need to live. Everyone is saying you should give money to help Haiti. Well, not everyone. Other people are saying that lots of the groups collecting are scammers, and that Obama is using this crisis to forward a political agenda.

When Katrina happened, I heard that people needed clothes. When I was homeless and needed clothes, I was extra sad because after spending literally hours in the donation bins at the shelter, I couldn't find anything that fit me properly. With that in mind, I boxed up two big boxes of big clothes and sent them out. Never heard back, but I like to think that a couple of southern fat girls were made that much more comfortable (and fashionable) thanks to me.

If you read this journal, you know that I'm pretty much a socialist. I loathe the idea that having money makes you more valuable as a person. I despise the idea that if you have less money, that you're not as good at living life than people who have more money. People fall ass backward into money all the time. People do dastardly things to get money, or they get it when people die, of because people place value on things that don't really better society in any reasonable way. (yes, I know that reasonableness is subjective, so don't bother pointing that out). Having money, even a lot of money, does not indicate that you're smarter, more hard working, or better at any one thing than someone else. If it did, James Patterson would be a better writer than Christopher Moore. And he's not, not by any estimation. No.
My point here, is that if you believe that you're more valuable as a person because you have money, you're less likely to share that money with people in need--and likely to think less of people who have less money. People develop this whole why should I help someone who *insert undesirable assumption here* when they aren't working as hard as me?!? Ultimately, this boils down to a simple Why should I help someone? After all, I don't have every single thing I want, so why should I help someone else get anything? It's basically the same reason that Wal*Mart exists...but that's another story.

There should be no money needed to help people in Haiti. IMHO, everyone near them should just pitch in and help. If you've got equipment they need--take it over there. There's nothing you can be doing with it that's more important than helping people in crisis. They need water? Bring some in, along with equipment to purify the water that's already there. Food, ditto. Clothes, ditto. Materials for rebuilding? Yes. I don't understand why this is even a problem. If my neighbors house broke in half and half of them died, I wouldn't be on the Internets telling people to send money. I'd be over at the house with a hot meal and some sympathy, asking what I could do to help. It pisses me off that things like religion and nationalism--which most people think are good things, typically only serve to divide people into groups that do nothing but judge and plot against eachother in some vain attempt to get the upper hand.

That said, if you DO go to Haiti to help out, you'll want to be careful. Haiti is where zombies come from. Everybody knows that.

There is a community here at Lj called bookfails. It is, as you might imagine, a place to snark about sucky books. They also make some claim about being non-snarky. As if it's possible to have a community of polite, well-mannered haters. But I digest {sic}. Right now there are a bunch of jerks over there snarking about how Catcher in the Rye "fails" because Holden is a "whiner." Me being me, I am choking on my own rage at that. I explain that Holden is mentally ill and that mental illness isn't a delightful romp into funland {sic}. Someone even said "I get the point, but I feel like I'm trapped in his mind and I don't like it." Well DUH! He's also trapped, and no, it isn't pleasant. By all means, dislike the book if you want to. But if Holden isn't likable because he's a whiner--? I guess that means Helter Skelter also fails because Manson is a jerk. Ditto Silence of the Lambs--if you reduce Lecter to just being an asshole. Eating people is so...rude!

I've had to use the {sic} thing a lot lately, because there are some windbags out there who think that the dramatic license I take with The Language {sic} means I have the grammatical skill of a day-dreaming 6th grader. Note: a first person narrative of a crazy person is not going to jibe with the totality of say, Elements of Style, or the Harbrace Handbook. It just isn't. Wouldn't be truthy. Nothing is more important than truthiness, especially in horror.
My debut novel, as you readers know, has a few errors in it. Three typos, by my count--though someone once told me they saw four. I imagine that it can be tricky to tell when I'm taking a deliberate liberty and when my miserable excuse for an editor fucked up. However, asserting that there are "dozens" of errors on the "first few pages" tells me that you...well, that you don't really get it. If you think something is, for example, a malapropism, it's probably something you're supposed to appreciate rather than brandish your red pen about.

My concern with asserting that people don't get it is that a) it's pretentious as hell, b) that when people say that, it's usually a front for them being either batshit crazy or dumb as a post. And c) it calls to mind criminals and careless or malicious types who say people can't handle them because they're "too real." It can be a fine line between not getting something and just plain disliking it. That's something I'll be pondering a great deal in this new year. Listening to people say that Catcher in the Rye fails because people with mental illness can be "annoying" fills me with dread about the future of all humanity, and makes me want to clarify that difference between liking something and understanding it (which I guess is totally subjective given the number of people who think Tony Soprano did not die in the series finale).

There are grammatical or punctuation errors I make a lot; they are ingrained habits by now. I'm slowly relearning. I spelled their as "thier" for much of my life--no one ever corrected me--even in college (thanks, Dr Walther). I tend to add apostrophes to words that don't need them, plurals for example. Occasionally, people will notice this and say something like Yeah, you must be a great writer dripping with sarcasm as if a grammatical error keeps someone from telling a truthy or captivating or important story. At the same time, I have trouble taking people seriously when they post about "there family" or retort with "your an idiot." So I guess YMMV so far as all that goes.

As I've mentioned, I'll be starting a new novel soon. It will build off the zombie story I began in 1995 and turned into a very short running zombie rock opera that wasn't very good. Like much of my work, it was mostly about me working some shit out. And zombies. I don't think anything on Earth scares me as much as zombies. My mom is less scary than zombies. Sharks, grizzly bears, fundies, poisonous spiders...all pale in comparison to a legion of undead. Honest.
My life has changed a great deal since 1995, so probably only the basics of the story will remain: some characters, some plot points, and zombies. My epilogue may have to change because my horrific pregnant-with-a-zombie-baby scene was co-opted by Zack Snyder in his excellent remake of Dawn of the Dead. My old buddy Finster gave me a splendid idea for a plot point that I will be incorporating in one way or another. It's juicy stuff! He are SMRT {sic}.

Oh yeah...Stephen King's Skeleton Crew came in the mail today, along with The Girl Next Door by Jack Ketchum. The former is one of my all-time favorite anthologies (along with King's Night Shift, his Different Seasons and Skipp and Spektor's Book of the Dead zombie anthologies. Skeleton Crew is filled with short stories that stayed with me basically forever. It also includes The Mist which became one of my top FIVE Stephen King movie adaptations (Carrie, Misery, Salem's Lot, Pet Sematary) immediately upon its release. So yay for that. The Girl Next Door was recommended to me by several of you LJ peeps. I'm pretty sure it's loosely based on the true story of that girl from Indiana. *shudder* I guess it's also been made into a movie, but I want to read the book first.

Here are some unretouched publicity pics from the photo shoot.
My three faves, in fact.







and just for laughs, here's a web cam shot of me with a full face of makeup.
A shot like this is both rare and elusive:



Turns out, I'm actually better at making myself look like a zombie than like someone who actually knows how to apply makeups.

Only two poems thusfar in the Poetry Challenge. I am finding that unless I have a story in mind that I want to tell through poetic means, it is utterly impossible to create poetry without inspiration. FYI, you can read my fancy, rhyming, word thingys over to wednes_writes. Because I'm wednes, and I write.
I also changed the layout of my writing journal, which was a pain in the ass because I forgot about all the customization upgrades I get with my paid account. I've had a paid LJ for over 5 years now. Crazy. I don't even have Netflix. But I digress. I needed a layout that was more poetry friendly, which is to say something that won't screw with the appearance of the poem because there's a userpic in the way.
I require inspiration to write poetry. Basically that means I need to start doing more things I wouldn't ordinarily do. I need some fresh experiences, some new perspectives, more facts, more knowledge. The things that are most important to me seem far too trite and overdone to make poetry fine enough to put my name on. *snerk* Seems to me that the point of poetry is to prominently display the supposedly mundane. Small things can move us just as much as the big stuff--unless we're the repressed type that tries to talk themselves out of what they're actually feeling because its "silly." Anyway, my point here is that 100 poems is going to be a lot more than I thought. Luckily, I have a new notebook.

Question: Why does your new novel have stabbing in it, when your last novel centered around a stabbing? Are you ever gonna branch out? Is this just more of the same? Why all that stabbing anyway? Can't you ever write something pleasant?

Answer: Heavens! I hadn't realized anyone was putting so much thought into this. Firstly, only my first novel is centered around a Stabbing. Secondly, the second book is about revenge, magic, drugs, and cats. No stabbing. Thirdly, there is much, much more than stabbing going on in this new book. Promise.

But there is a very good reason my characters stab, several in fact. Stabbing is up close and personal, it is an act of rage. You are physically thrusting something sharp into the vessel of someone you hate (or love so much you want dead--however that works out). You didn't poison their food and wait for them to eat it, you didn't point a gun in their general direction, you didn't chase them down from the comfort of your car. You didn't set up an elaborate, Law & Order inspired scheme to get them killed. Stabbing is a brutal killing done in a passionate way. It tends to be done in the heat of the moment.

Stabbing is also penetrative. Obviously there are many, many connections between sex and death. The French refer to orgasm as "the little death." Surely some of you ladies out there know that some fellas, especially young fellas wield their erection like a stabby knife. All about the old in-out, in-out and if there's also a lady nearby enjoying herself, well that's nice too. I think men are more likely to enjoy hands-on, passionate killing as opposed to women who generally are after the end result of a person being dead. I am not aware of any female killer who commits hands-on murder for the sheer enjoyment of doing so. If you's know of one, please be sure to hip me. Mary Bell is the only one I can think of, and she was a wee tot who killed just the one time. Here..

In terms of hands-on murder techniques though, I think nothing is more personal and passionate than a strangling. For one thing, it's savage, like a snake. Snakes strangle and you all know how much I loved my Dante, even when he bit me 32 times. But to be that close to someone and literally keep them from breathing with your bare hands until they die beneath you? Yikes. As a literary concept, I love it. As a weird, poetry writing teenager I loved it even more. So why haven't I used it? Well, I'm saving it for a special occasion.

As for the pleasantness, I find my books to be terrifying and disturbing in a very pleasant way.
Eye of the beholder, I guess.

Thanks for writing!

[Error: unknown template qotd]

There's lots and lots of stuff I'd want to tell myself. Problem is, I'm not entirely sure I would listen. My younger self was kind of a know-it-all.

1. Even though Nancy Reagan and that commercial with the frying pan were total BS, there are some legitimate reasons not to give your life over to drugs, even marijuana. So dammit, be careful.

2. You are awesome. Anyone who tells you otherwise is of no consequence, even if those people live in the same house as you.

3. If you really want to be a writer, start writing and don't stop no matter what.

4. Go see a counselor and get some meds so you don't waste 10 or 15 years being unable to manage your life.

5. No credit cards. EVER.

6. If boys are mean to you, stop sleeping with them.

7. Spend more time with your Grandparents while you can.

8. People you like to get high with will make shitty roommates.

9. Keep your tap shoes, new taps are expensive.

10. You are never stupid for trusting someone, even if they turn out to be unworthy.

11. That's compressed air. If you screw around with those tanks, they're gonna blow up!

I heard something today that has me very confused.

Psychobitch MeMe Roth got completely pwnd by Stuart Varney at FOX news. I want to feel vindicated, or perhaps pleasantly surprised by this. But no.

If you don't know, MeMe Roth is an incredibly dysfunctional woman who calls herself an anti-obesity activist. One of her favorite gags is waiving around a large pair of pants and laughing at them. Comedy gold, right? But she's serious. She tells stories of being five and being totally ashamed of her "fat mother." She doesn't eat until she runs four miles a day, even if she doesn't go running until after 3pm. And of course, she famously compared eating to rape.

MeMe went on FOX news to express that not only should Northwest Stewardesses not be given red uniforms in sizes above 18, but that anyone anywhere near a size 18 shouldn't have that job in the first place. She really is a nutty, hateful woman. People who become full-out activists to spread their own bigotry make me ill. This Stuart Varney chap totally tore into her.

So what's the problem? He disagreed. He interrupted her. He shouted her down. He insulted and shamed her based on her viewpoints--viewpoints that he obviously opposed, but offered no reasoned, logical response to. He implied things about stewardesses jobs that were ignorant and false. He blamed MeMe directly for the unhealthy emphasis young girls place on being thin and attractive. That doesn't help. He didn't let MeMe finish the majority of her sentences. By the end they were yelling at each other. The fact that I agree with his viewpoint does not make his behavior during the interview any more acceptable. Yes, sometimes we have to be impolite to make our point. We're not all Albus Dumbledore, after all. But that is just not necessary and it hurts more than it helps. As usual FOX News employs screaming and emotional manipulation rather than presenting facts. A much better tactic IMHO would have been to let MeMe speak, which would then illustrate what a loon she is. A few well placed questions--you know, like a journalist might ask--would have put her vindictive hatespeak on display for all to mock.

Ultimately, arrogant jackasses in opposition to me are only slightly more annoying than arrogant jackasses who agree with me. That kind of unreasoned jackassery makes everyone who shares that viewpoint look bad.

Yes Madam, you ARE shameful. But not because Stuart Varney says so.

I've had a difficult and trying week thusfar. Just a lot of little things coming at me all at once. Lots of close friends are having difficulties that I'm basically powerless to help them with. As always, I'm full of opinions, but nothing truly helpful. Plus I loathe wearing these stupid wrist braces I have to wear whenever I'm computing at work or home--which is most of the time. I find them cumbersome, restrictive, and annoying.

As such, I've been doing my best to avoid things that will bring me down. Had a very nice evening watching Zoolander with uterdic followed by the new ep of The Philanthropist. As much as I love James Purefoy, I'm not really loving the show. He's not a very likable character, and the things he does are orchestrated to make him feel better rather than to do a greater good. I'm sure Thomas Hobbs would have a lot to say about all that, cynic that he was. BTW, what's the word for that philosphy that says Every human act is inherently selfish?

While looking for good stuff to do online, I ran across http://failblog.org
Like Voltaire, I can't believe I'm just finding out about this now. After having read every available page of failblog, I have chosen my two favorites, and here they are:


and the fail d' resistance:


Flytrap Fail? Or Spider Win? You decide...

In other annoying news, I still haven't heard from my new editor. My default search engine at work is some stupid nonsense called "Bing," and someone used my work desk in my absense and now my marked-up catalog is missing. Grrrr.

Sagittarius (current week) :

A guy I barely know critiqued me at a party recently. "You haven't suffered enough to feel intense passion," he said. "Your life has been too happy, too easy." I didn't want to get into a debate about whether my life has been too happy and easy, so in my reply I didn't mention my divorce or the time I was shot or the grueling poverty I endured for 18 years. "So you're saying," I told him, "that suffering is the only way you can acquire passion? I don't agree. Have you ever raised a child? Have you ever been in love with someone who incited you to make radical changes in your life? Have you ever worked on a creation for many years and then submitted it to be judged by thousands of people? I have." I'm letting you know about this, Sagittarius, because I predict you'll soon be offered an experience like those I named -- adventures that have the potential to build intense passion without requiring you to suffer.

Speaking of things that are just fucking incredible, have you heard that scientists have captured images of memory being made inside a brain??? I've been pondering lately about how some scientists devote their lives to work that improves the daily lives of humanity at large. Simple concept, yes. But when I see it in real life in the guise of say, thehula, I am in awe of the ability to parlay study and knowledge into practical applications and experiments that ultimately make the lives of strangers better. So many jobs revolve around non-essential products and services that people purchase rather than on something that creates lasting benefits for humanity at large. Not really a judgment call on people with sucky, unimportant jobs. Just an observation.

In other news, my left hand keeps going numb for no reason. I'll be slapping a brace on my wrist as soon as H wakes up. I have one left over from when I used to be a cashier at Whole Foods.

EDIT: I can't find my damn wrist brace. Now I have to buy one, maybe two. Plus, BOTH hands are falling asleep for no reason. I suppose it could have something to do with my being on a computer for 75% of my waking hours. :-/

I've come to a realization recently, and I think it's only appropriate that I share it with all of you. I did not come upon this decision lightly, nor did I want to oversell it. I wanted to weigh the options carefully in order to fully commit to my choice in this matter. I have done so, and it now can be announced:

James Purefoy is the sexiest man in the history of human existence.


I'm declaring it.

( Don't believe me? Here's some super sexy pics! )

I mean seriously. He has like, cartoonish super good-lookingness...ridiculously so.

And the best news of all? He's got a new show coming out on NBC!!! So now I have something to keep me occupied whilst I wait for a copy of Solomon Kane to become available to me. Woot.



On a completely unrelated topic, truthiness is a word now. So why doesn't MS Word's dictionary know that? How does one update it, other than adding it manually?