Pardon the Dust

Pardon the dust. I’m underway with some renovations on the interior of Self. It wouldn’t be noticeable I imagine, so it’s not at all likely anyone would notice. In fact, I’m guessing no one will. But that’s the problem. No one notices. There seems to be a disconnect with the way I view my dreams, desires, etc., and the daily results I experience. As in, I have this grand vision of what my life should be, and I work toward it, yet I have this near out-of-body experience with what actually is.

So I’ve been trying to figure out why. Why do I feel what I am doing should be more observed and appreciated than it is? I’m not a bad person, per se, so I feel karma isn’t the answer. I’m not perfect, of course. I make mistakes. Many many. But that isn’t cause for the results, I wouldn’t think. Everyone makes mistakes, after all. Doesn’t hold back those who succeed, or are at the least noticed for what they do.

I’m forced to accept the only possibility I can find logic within: I am Clark Kent. I’m invisible, for the most part. A kind-hearted person you notice, but don’t think much of as a hero. Nobody looks at Clark and says, “Now there’s a guy who’s going somewhere. Let’s pay attention to him.” No. That’s the whole point. And even Clark makes stupid mistakes, like giving up his powers for no discernible reason whatsoever.

That’s who I am. Clark Kent after giving up my powers. Invisible and meek. Fun stuff. People pay attention to a point, then move on and forget I was there at all.

Why would they do that? Because they’re looking for Superman. They’re looking for heroes. They’re looking to be wowed, impressed, carried onward into hope and victory. Strong personalities, active voices, people who offer them results they want.

This guy:

You might argue that’s the same guy. Still Clark, right? But who will they remember? The meek guy who got beat up, or the guy who stood up to the bad guy and defeated him with flair and strength?

I’m not likely to go beat on some worthless schmo for the sake of attention, so that’s out. Hell, I still catch flies and release them when I can, rather than squishing them into oblivion for invading my space. But I’ve encountered my share of bullies. And they’ve won. Sure, I’ll bitch about it, but after the five seconds in which people listen and agree, they move on. Nobody wants to listen to someone complain about being a victim. They want Superman. Action. Decisive action.

When I was eight, I had a birthday party. It was the first one I had organized, first time I had invited kids from school to my home. There was cake, balloons, games planned, a beautiful day in a park. Nobody showed up. I didn’t try to have another party after that. Now, I could say that it molded my perception at that point, convinced me nobody would ever show up for anything I planned ever; but that would be Clarking without power. Something I am proficient in. Complaining after the fact, then withdrawing. Truth is, that party was just another bully, and it beat me. It beat me and I didn’t fight back.

I’ve often stated, of myself, that I engage in the fight, get knocked down, yet always get up to fight again. What strikes me, in this whole Clarking vs. Supermanning duel of perception is not that I keep getting up. That should be a given. I mean, you don’t get up, the fight’s over. As we’re talking about life here, then life is over. So you get up. Of course. You fight, to one degree or another, to defend your right to existence. Expectations, though. That’s what I’ve come to see. I expect to get knocked down again. I expect to stand up again. I expect to fight again. I expect this to repeat, endlessly. That’s just Clarking your way through. Superman (or if you must, Clark Kent with his powers) doesn’t enter a fight expecting to hold his ground or be defeated. He expects to win. He expects good to triumph. He expects to move on to another fight and kick its ass as well.

So I’m renovating. Interior design is not my strong suit, though I work on it constantly. I’m hoping to make this one stick. It’d be nice to do so. Perhaps then people will notice me. They’ll read my work because they can’t imagine not reading it. They’ll read it because they want to, because they could’t wait to, because they want to know what story I tell next. I’m actually quite good at this whole writing thing. It’s taken a lot of work to become so. But if I continue to toss it about like Clark’s weak punches, nobody will care. It’ll be kind of sad, actually.

I’ve learned to write well because I want people to read it, when what I need to do is to write well because I expect people will be reading it.

Writing, Broadleaf Writers, my current job, relationships, everything.

I have to learn to be Superman.

Being invisible sucks.

The First Flap

Though I don’t yet have a specific date, the next book in the Anointed trilogy (it seems to require a name of some sort to qualify it as a trilogy, if for no other reason than to amuse me and my publisher), Flutter: An Epic of Mass Distraction, will be in stores in spring of 2011.  It still seems a long way off, but that’s the process, and I have no choice but to wait it out, nervously tapping away as the editorial process ensues, as characters and plot lines are dissected, as event dates are put together, and as the reviews and blurbs trickle in.  In the meantime, however, the preliminary jacket art is in, and I can’t help but feel like it’s headed in the right direction.

The subtitle is yet to be added.

No telling where it’ll wind up, but it definitely represents the theme of the book well.  I’ll post the changes as they are made.  Feel free to drop in your thoughts.

——–

“Bishop” Eddie Long.

Who made him a Bishop, anyway?

He made his first public statements regarding the sexual misconduct charges Sunday morning, at 8am, from the pulpit.  The mere fact that his first statements to the charges were delivered from the pulpit is more telling than anything he said.  How better to draw further attention to the “church” and bolster its reach than to have the media in attendance, broadcasting your (lack of) denial, while thousands of followers scream and holler and praise JeebusAlmighty.  It was a circus.  It was exactly right for what he is.  If you read the transcript, it’s quite obvious from the outset that he’s proud of the attention–the opportunity even–that this scandal has brought his church.

“Good morning New Birth. And good morning to all our other guests.

And I would be remiss not to say good morning to the world.

You all may be seated in the presence of the Lord.

I do want to remind folk that we’re here at 8 every Sunday morning. Every Sunday morning.

And I’ll be here next week.”

The other bit that struck me was, fittingly, at the end of his presentation:

“Please hear this. Please hear this: I’ve been accused. I’m under attack. I want you to know, as I said earlier, I am not a perfect man. But this thing I’m gon’ fight.

And I want you to to know one other thing. I feel like David against Goliath, but I’ve got five rocks and I haven’t thrown one yet.”

He never denies the accusations.  He never defends his actions.  He simply states that it is a hard time for him, that he’s been accused, and that he–the pastor of a mega-church–feels like David, fighting for his life against the giant, Goliath.  I believe he may have that bit backwards, however.  These young men, whether honest or deceitful, are not Goliath.  The man who deemed himself anointed by God, the “Bishop” of 25,000 people willing to put money on his name, the person that is as much a politician of faith as he is an admitted multi-national corporation, stands with far more might, and far more capable defense than young men, who are armed with nothing more than accusations, and a date in court.

—–

From the shelves of the departed Wordsmiths Books vault, I leave you with a video of the Harry Potter cover band, Draco & the Malfoys.  They were one of a few who passed through, and one of my favorites (though the Remus Lupins are right there as well).  Their performance–with the rest of the gang that day for Wizard Rock–ranks as one of my favorite memories.  If you are a Potter-head, and haven’t heard these guys, then by all means, give them a listen.

Imaging Googe

Here’s the Googe image I referenced in a previous blog. Thanks to the ever vigilant Katie Moss for taking five seconds of her time to locate it for me.

It’s the simple joys in life…

Speaking of simple joys, I have somehow, over my time, managed to completely miss out on Chick Publications, which is not at all what it presents itself as.  There are certainly no chicks to be found on this site at all, which is always a bit of a sad, if you ask me.  But the chick-less nature of Chick aside, it’s an utter win to find a piece of religion that so insists that you pay it heed.  Apparently, as I am told, this Jack T. Chick person created these books–slightly more than a comic, I guess, but far less than Superman can offer me in such a short blast–that are handed out at various religious functions, on street corners, or at the Gap, if it’s a particularly slow day.

There are quite a few to browse through, or buy, if you’re in a festive mood.  I’m collecting the whole set.  They’ve presented me with a Michael Corleone moment.  I thought I’d finish up with Flutter, and leave Timothy, and gang, be after that, but they’re pulling me back in.

Here’s a little peek into the glory of Chick Tracts:

He has a Little Black Book, has he? Hmmm...must be quite the dater.

Ahh! Zombies! Oh, wait, never mind...they're flying away.

Fire, fire, fire! Hey...who's getting married? Jeebus?

Is it just me, or does the Beast look like Rob Zombie? I didn't know he had an army.

A thousand years? Awww...I can't wait that long! Mom, why doesn't God have a face?

The End?

Anyway, I have a new love.  Chick(less) Tracts are basically going to be responsible for a few more devil fiction books that I had no idea I absolutely had to write.  A lesson to all writers: Inspiration is everywhere.

A Genesis of Lolcat Proportions

I was reminded this morning of one of the best movies that no one has seen.  Well, ok, not exactly, “no one,” but definitely a smaller set of people than the movie deserves.  Sometimes, for whatever reason, movies sneak under the radar, and are on DVD before you ever get around to noting it exists.  It’s likely to be in the $5 bin before you ever see the cover (which is not a horrible thing, mind you–for you, anyway), or maybe TBS/TNT is handling it like a child on a sugar high, showing it to you every five minutes for three straight days.

For whatever reason, the movie Suicide Kings, just never got noticed.  How could it possibly have gotten by?  Christopher Walken, Denis Leary, Henry Thomas (Phone home!), Jay Mohr, Jeremy Sisto, Brad Garrett, and Johnny Galecki (from Roseanne, and is phenomenal as the hyper-nervous toss-in).

EVR=”I’ve never wanted a busket so badly.”

Not only is this movie well written, expertly crafted, and obviously directed with a hands-off approach that allows the superb talent to do its job, but it also includes one of my favorite movie lines ever, from the irreplaceable Denis Leary.  Out of context, and without Leary’s patented delivery, and expression, it’s a bit lost on most, so I offer the video instead:

Additionally, Christopher Walken is in his element, and doesn’t need to carry the cast along, and yet manages to do just that in one of his better roles.

Go spend $5, and buy it.  Watch it.  Then, if you missed it, find Big Trouble.  These movies need love.

Oddly, my post today was not going to be at all about Suicide Kings.  I’ve actually been looking for a home for some Lolcats, and decided today was as good as any.  If you’re not familiar with the website, or the books, then you’ve obviously been without internet for the past few years, living in a cave, hiding from American forces, and hoping the world thinks you’re dead, so that you won’t suddenly be so.  It’s a tremendously hilarious site, and has spawned several others in its wake, and keeps hard working people around the world occupied for hours while they’re supposed to be working.

On top of it all, this site has spawned an entire language of speak that makes text speak look like it was invented by juvenile prunes, who have no comprehension of the Engrish language, and wouldn’t know a contraction if it comma-spliced their soul…oh, wait, that’s real, isn’t it?

Sheesh.

Well, anyway, the Lolcat gang has simply made my world with their latest project.  The Lolcat Bible has arrived.

I’m sure, by now, you’ve heard of the Bible, or at the very least, have had a few solicitous stays at a hotel, and saw it in the drawer where you might keep your condoms (at home, anyway…still packaged I hope).  Well, the Lolcat crew have outdone themselves this time, translating the Bible into the aforementioned created language of Lolspeak.  Want a sample? Here’s the Genesis of Ceiling Cat, and the creation of all that you know (and maybe love, unless you’ve stayed at too many hotels, or save used condoms or whatnot):

Boreded Ceiling Cat makinkgz Urf n stuffs

1 Oh hai. In teh beginnin Ceiling Cat maded teh skiez An da Urfs, but he did not eated dem.

2 Da Urfs no had shapez An haded dark face, An Ceiling Cat rode invisible bike over teh waterz.

3 At start, no has lyte. An Ceiling Cat sayz, i can haz lite? An lite wuz.4 An Ceiling Cat sawed teh lite, to seez stuffs, An splitted teh lite from dark but taht wuz ok cuz kittehs can see in teh dark An not tripz over nethin.5 An Ceiling Cat sayed light Day An dark no Day. It were FURST!!!1

6 An Ceiling Cat sayed, im in ur waterz makin a ceiling. But he no yet make a ur. An he maded a hole in teh Ceiling.7 An Ceiling Cat doed teh skiez with waterz down An waterz up. It happen.8 An Ceiling Cat sayed, i can has teh firmmint wich iz funny bibel naim 4 ceiling, so wuz teh twoth day.

9 An Ceiling Cat gotted all teh waterz in ur base, An Ceiling Cat hadz dry placez cuz kittehs DO NOT WANT get wet.10 An Ceiling Cat called no waterz urth and waters oshun. Iz good.

11 An Ceiling Cat sayed, DO WANT grass! so tehr wuz seedz An stufs, An fruitzors An vegbatels. An a Corm. It happen.12 An Ceiling Cat sawed that weedz ish good, so, letz there be weedz.13 An so teh threeth day jazzhands.

14 An Ceiling Cat sayed, i can has lightz in the skiez for splittin day An no day.15 It happen, lights everwear, like christmass, srsly.16 An Ceiling Cat doeth two grate lightz, teh most big for day, teh other for no day.17 An Ceiling Cat screw tehm on skiez, with big nails An stuff, to lite teh Urfs.18 An tehy rulez day An night. Ceiling Cat sawed. Iz good.19 An so teh furth day w00t.

20 An Ceiling Cat sayed, waterz bring me phishes, An burds, so kittehs can eat dem. But Ceiling Cat no eated dem.21 An Ceiling Cat maed big fishies An see monstrs, which wuz like big cows, except they no mood, An other stuffs dat mooves, An Ceiling Cat sawed iz good.22 An Ceiling Cat sed O hai, make bebehs kthx. An dont worry i wont watch u secksy, i not that kynd uf kitteh.23 An so teh…fith day. Ceiling Cat taek a wile 2 cawnt.

24 An Ceiling Cat sayed, i can has MOAR living stuff, mooes, An creepie tings, An otehr aminals. It happen so tehre.25 An Ceiling Cat doed moar living stuff, mooes, An creepies, An otehr animuls, An did not eated tehm.

26 An Ceiling Cat sayed, letz us do peeps like uz, becuz we ish teh qte, An let min p0wnz0r becuz tehy has can openers.

27 So Ceiling Cat createded teh peeps taht waz like him, can has can openers he maed tehm, min An womin wuz maeded, but he did not eated tehm.

28 An Ceiling Cat sed them O hai maek bebehs kthx, An p0wn teh waterz, no waterz An teh firmmint, An evry stufs.

29 An Ceiling Cat sayed, Beholdt, the Urfs, I has it, An I has not eated it.30 For evry createded stufs tehre are the fuudz, to the burdies, teh creepiez, An teh mooes, so tehre. It happen. Iz good.

31 An Ceiling Cat sayed, Beholdt, teh good enouf for releaze as version 0.8a. kthxbai.

After you go buy Suicide Kings, go to your local independent bookstore (it may take a few more minutes, or cost you a couple of extra bucks, but for the love of Ceiling Cat, support them!), and spend the $13 to own this book.  You can also buy a copy (or have one ordered!) of another awesome book called Anointed: The Passion of Timmy Christ, CEO, whose author would greatly appreciate your support.

The End.

Mah Birfday

Today is my birthday, or, as some have called it, the anniversary of my birth.  I don’t really care how you spin it, as long as it involves cake.

It needs to involve pizza, if at all possible, as well, though a good run through at a Hibachi joint will serve as a nice substitute, if necessary (and it’s generally superfineok with me if it is).

So, what, pray tell, do I want for my birthday?  Well, I did find seasons two and three of Six Feet Under on sale, so that’s an easy Win.  I was gifted the first two seasons of Dexter, so that’s Win number two.  Hibachi?  Check.  Cake? Check…and, check, actually (Win, Win).  Tasty Coffee? Archer Farms Fudge Brownie, with Bailey’s Irish Creamer (not Bailey’s itself I am sad to say), check, and Win.  75, ooo 7th Day Adventists? Chec…wait, what?

In honor of all that I am likely to do wrong over the next ten days, and because this is my damn blog, and I can write whatever I damn well please, I would like to say that there is no greater gift on my birthday, than this:

59th General Conference Session

(I have no idea who this guy is, but I hope I get to sell him a copy of my book)

3468625879_9457578da5_m.jpg

A General Conference Session is a unique occasion. There is no moment in the life of the Church which demonstrates so vividly–so tangibly–the extraordinary way God’s Spirit is moving among us. And so I’m delighted to invite your presence and participation at the 59th Session of the General Conference of Seventh-day Adventists, in Atlanta, Georgia, June 23 –July 3, 2010.
Now, I do have a job to protect, so I have some boundaries, but when you have someone tell you that you shouldn’t sell books on Vampires because it is an affront to God (sadly this wasn’t said to me, or I probably would have hissed, and bitten her), it evokes a certain need to speak your mind.  Of course, on the heels of my blog about Jesus slaying vampires, I’d say that, in relation to Vampires, the Christians have very little to be worried over.  I mean, zombies, or werewolves, or emo-goth-punk-hipsters of the FU I’m Texting Generation, are far more threatening at this point.  Frankly, I think the Second Coming is on delay while Jesus polishes his skills a la Neo and the Matrix, and catches up on South Park episodes involving the Goth Gang, but the next ten days may teach me otherwise.
Also–and as a serviceable farewell for the moment–I’d like to leave you with the opening paragraph of the worst book ever written, Apocalypse South, by Kyle Watson.  If you haven’t ever read this book, do it now.  Buy it used, and read it immediately.  This is complete, and unedited by these hands.  Frankly, it wasn’t edited by any hands and is the poster child of everything that is wrong with Print on Demand technology.
“A host of demons is hovering above the crust of the earth.  They are waiting on their leader to speak to them.  None of them are speaking words to one another, only hissing and snickering has come forth from the mouths on their evil angelic faces.  Their leader is dressed in a black robe wearing a gold colored breastplate, and his demon followers are dressed in brown robes with silver colored breastplates.  The leader starts to speak when a demon asks a question.
‘Satan, since we have lost the war in Heaven, what is our next plan?’
The Leader roars like a lion before he speaks.
‘How many times have I told you to call me Lucifer and don’t you ever again say that we have lost anything.  You hear me?” Lucifer says infuriated.
Ah…that’s better.
They say you can tell everything you need to know about a book from its first paragraph.  I gave you a couple of lines of dialogue to reinforce the point.  Now, go find a copy, and read it.  Then tell everyone you know.  I’m going to make a bestseller out of this guy yet.

Awaiting the Second Coming

I finally jumped on the Netflix train again.  It’s been a few years, actually, since I last eagerly awaited the next drop from my queue, and I’ve been rebuilding my list with all of the movies I’ve wanted to see over the past couple of years, but couldn’t get to, couldn’t talk someone into going to see, or that I entirely missed because my head was buried in a quagmire of fantasy baseball.

The great thing about the process, the absolutely most wonderful piece of the Netflix pie, is that you invariably find movies you’ve never heard of, or that the filmmakers were too embarrassed to actually let you–or anyone else for that matter–know about.  These are the movies that bring me the most excitement, the greatest anticipation, because who, in their right mind, would pay actual money for a ticket to see this?

That’s right.  Jesus Christ has returned to earth to slay vampires.  What?   Where was this in the Bible?  I mean, holy hell, I’d so go to Church if this is buried in the Gospels somewhere.  Maybe I shouldn’t say, “Holy hell,” while professing a possible desire to be at church.  Hm.  Anyway, I almost feel like I’ve been robbed of a story idea here.  Vampires are the new Paris Hilton.  Wait, did I say that right?  Paris Hilton from the sex video, or Paris Hilton from that ridiculously amusing BFF show?  Is her dog the head vampire, or would that be her father?  Surely, she’s not a talented enough actress to play such a dolt while secretly converting the world to vampires.  Zombies, sure.  She’s already doing that, but I just don’t see her as the head vampire type.  If she were a character from Twilight, would she be Bella, or would she be Victoria, or would she be the fly that I splattered when I dropped the dead weight of Breaking Dawn on it?

But I digress.

I have no idea what this movie is about.  If I were to pre-EVR it, I should have to censor most of the review for sensitive ears.  Not that I’m going to.  I just should.  I could honestly think of nothing more fun that crashing a church service, and shouting, “Jesus Fucking Christ killed goddamn Vampires?  Why have you people been hiding this for so long?”

Just digest that for a moment.

So, this movie–if I dare blaspheme the slaying power of God’s “according to the Bible” son–is going to arrive soon, and I can’t remember the last non-Harry Potter movie that I was this excited to see.  It’s going to suck.  It’s going to suck so good that I may choke on my popcorn, or spill wine on Maggie (who will likely protest while licking herself into a drunk stupor), or maybe lose all sense of myself, and declare it to be the best movie ever made.

Who knows but Jesus?

And the vampires, probably.

But not Paris Hilton.  She doesn’t know most things.

A redesign in thought

The Corner Bookstore is stealing my soul.

Nah.  Actually, my cat is.  I know it because I wake up every morning to this face:

Maggie is rather demanding about breakfast.  And dinner.  And snacks.  And your dinner.  And…well, suffice to say, she’s just a rather demanding cat.  Which serves to separate her in no way from most every other cat in existence.  It’s one of the main reasons I’ve been looking into buying an automatic cat feeder, programmable to shut her the hell up so I can sleep.  Somehow, I figure she’ll find a way around that loophole, and I’ll still wake up to a gentle paw to the arm, a flex of claws, and a wet nose.  It’s the order of things.  Maggie is Queen.

Anyway, I’ve decided that I need to recapture my soul, and since my unrelenting cat is not going to offer any help, I’m left to do so through writing.  While I continue on with the additions to Flutter, refining it with a more serviceable ending, I am going to be spending more time on the young adult fantasy series, The Storyteller, that I’m so geeked about, and also transforming this meager blog into something less writing-restrictive.  By that, I mean I have opinions about stuff.  Lots of opinions about lots of stuff, and if that isn’t exciting enough, or entertaining enough to completely captivate you, then I suppose you can go to hell.

Or, you can just hang in there while I offer a simple illustration.

A good friend of mine–we’ll call him Mim Jundy because it cleverly hides his identity–and I devised a rather unique system of reviews for movies some time ago, and though we’ve both threatened on numerous occasions to make it public, we’ve done so with the grace, and efficiency, of a duck trying to fly in a pot of chili.  As with many of our seemingly genius ideas, we talked about it, we laughed about it, and ultimately did nothing while feasting on pizza, and ice cream.

We called it the EVR, which stands for Entertainment Value Ratio, and as of now, it’s in full force on this blog.  What is an EVR, and by what complicated force of mathematics is it arrived at, you ask?  Well, first of all, understand this much: I hate math.  Secondly, for those of you who do not know Mim, or are educating yourself on me, we do not undertake anything to amuse ourselves that will be complicated to the point of no longer being funny.  Thus, an EVR is as simple a rating/review system as you will find.

Think of movies you’ve seen, and think of your initial though upon its conclusion.  Have you ever uttered the words, “Well, that wasn’t worth a bucket of popcorn,” or, “If I paid for that twice, I still wouldn’t have seen half of it?”  Or maybe you asked, “Where the hell has that movie been all of my life,” or, “When will people learn that Kneau Reeves can’t act?”  If you’ve ever uttered anything closely resembling any of these comments, then you’ve branded a movie with an EVR.  Congratulations, and welcome aboard.

I offer my first entry, today, for the movie Julia & Julia, which I watched last night, after stuffing my face with a couple of chili cheese dogs (hey, what? Nathan’s Hot Dogs were buy one get one free.)  So that you fully understand, and appreciate this system of reviews, I’ll let you know that, traditionally, there isn’t a lengthy, wind-drawn, write-up of any movie (or whatever it might be that I am reviewing) that I mention.  There is simply an EVR.  Like this: “Why the hell didn’t I see that in the theater?”

Meryl Streep is God.  Alongside Christopher Walken, somebody needs to put a security detail on her immediately, because if there’s a theater in Heaven, God’s got a casting call waiting for her, and He’s getting impatient.  And I’ll watch anything with Amy Adams, and love it, even if she looks like Kristen Wiig while doing it.  It’s great when a movie compels you to read the book it was based on.  It’s even better when it compels you to read two books the movie was based on.  This one not only accomplished that, but made me want to get back in the kitchen, and then tell you all about whatever mess I’ve made of it.

So, there’s something else to look forward to.

I intend on making this more of a daily thing, seeing as how I don’t only have to bore you with the inanities of the writing life on a semi-regular basis.  If you’ve got anything you’re in desperate need of a review for, let me know.  Otherwise, I hope to leave you with EVR’s on new movies, in order to possibly save you money, or encourage you to spend it, rather than buy food, or something.

Um…

The end?

Because I Need To

I’ve been pretty busy opening The Corner Bookstore (of which it seems necessary to note I do not own, but am managing), and it’s left the well of writing rather dry of time, and quite neglected.  I genuinely consider this to be one of the more difficult things to deal with, and have to acknowledge that there is little in life that makes me as happy as writing, no matter how nonsensical it may be at times.  But, I’m getting things ironed out with the store, and whittling down my schedule to a mere 55 hours a week, and will be back at it again soon.

Which is important, for more than the obvious reason.  The more pressing matter is that, despite what I might have believed in February, Flutter: An Epic of Mass Distraction, is not yet finished.  It lacks, in fact, a third act.  A third act that was, until a few weeks ago, meant to be a third book in the Anointed series (which was never meant to be a series, but what the hell, right?).  Which would seem to be a bummer–and is–but isn’t as bad as it seems.  The truth is, Flutter will be a better book for it.  It will take you for a longer, and wilder, ride, leaving you just as breathless as dear Timothy will be by book’s end.

And, in a nice twist, and flagrant ode to one of my favorite writers–Douglas Adams–I can now refer to Flutter as: The Second, and final book, in the Anointed Trilogy.  Why not?  Makes me laugh, and as long as my publisher’s up for it, then so be it (Or, “and, so it is,” if you happen to be a Pretty Wild junkie like me…I mean, come on!  This isn’t real, right?).

The downside is that my October release is now somewhere in the front end of 2011.  So, yeah.  But it’ll be out there.  That’s what matters.

Anyhoo…I had too much coffee this morning, and…wait…no, there’s no such thing as too much coffee.  Strike that.  Ahem.  I had more coffee this morning than I typically have–by design in order to kickstart a Monday that followed a weekend of moving my stuff into storage by myself (what!?!?!)–and decided in a heightened state of euphoria, that what coffee lacks is an operatic ode to its importance in our daily lives.  Something on the Bugs Bunny scale.  You know what I mean.  This one:

Something epic.  Something tragic, yet redeeming in the end.  Something that seems to jump on a skateboard, and roll along at ludicrous speed (Ah…Spaceballs), before crashing in a coma-like burn as the caffeine wears off.

Something sort of like this:

(man holding a cup of coffee in the air)

Coffee!  You are so excellent!

I love to drink you in the morning,

afternoon, evening, and night!

And most any time in between!

(insert hoppy little musical interlude, as our man dances about with his cup of coffee, drinking it in large gulps)

I drink you with breakfast, I drink you with lunch,

I drink you with most anything that I can munch,

I drink you to think, I drink you to write,

I drink you despite you make me, um, not sleep at night!

You give me the shakes, you give me a buzz,

You are an addiction I can’t quit because,

I don’t remember what life was like living without

you, which isn’t a sad but is something I love!

Coffee you’re excellent!

You make my life livable!

Each time I drink you,

I feel so much better!

With each sip I’m happier!

With cream you’re just like dessert!

Coffee you’re excellent!

FTW, LMAO, LOL!

(our coffee drinker, in his exuberant celebratory state,

drops his coffee in a colossal crash)

Oh, coffee…

What have I done?

Your brilliance shines so bright

upon the floor!

NO!

Oh, noes, coffee!

You were once in my hands,

these deceitful, clumsy, claws.

Now you are lost,

and I don’t know for how long!

How long???

But, oh…hey!

Not to say that you weren’t a joy!

Still I regret your splaying on the floor!

But I just thought…just now in fact,

that perhaps I could, perhaps just now,

make some more instead!

YAY!

Coffee!

I will drink you again!

(the thunderous final note brings the house down)

Sure, it needs some work, but it’ll do for now.  And I need more coffee.

Tales of a Wandering Revolutionary

Today begins the journey of my wayward revolutionary tax revolter.  Well, actually it began on March 20th, but I’m a little remiss in reporting of his travails, and am only now recouping enough brain power in which to devote.  But, before I begin, I suppose some education may be in order.  So, for those of you who have not yet heard, there is a website called Online Tax Revolt, that is devoted to the cause of tax reform in America.  Though I could praddle on about the specifics, or of my political leaning in the matter, I will instead bypass the debate, and focus on the journey that inspired me to play along.

You see, the idea here is that a nationwide march on Washington is required in order to garner the attention necessary to encourage real change.  Not an atypical stance, used many times over.  However, the catch this time is that the internet, and Google, are playing an intrinsic part.  That’s right…America needs a virtual march on Washington!  So, for those who can’t actually make the march on April 15th, you have the opportunity to create an avatar to do it for you.  Yay!  A computerized me to do work on my behalf!  I’ve waited 37 years to be this lazy! 

The truly fantastic part of this virtual march is that you can track the progress of your avatar daily, and see where, almost to the doorstep of a house, your little revolutionary is.  For example, the first time I checked, just a few days ago, I discovered that little ME was wandering near Morganton, North Carolina, which, in and of itself, is kind of neaterrific.  However, I was a bit distressed to learn that he was wandering far too close to the ominous, and potentially noteworthy, Lost Corner Road.

Pay no attention to the fact that it claims I am from Marietta.  I’m apparently a very confused digital person.  It’s more of note that my dear little avatar is wandering through someone’s property, or perhaps farm, conversing with the cows, trees, and occasional shrubs, obviously mindless of where he is, or where he is going.  Let’s review: He doesn’t know where he’s from, he’s wandering out in the middle of nowhere talking to cows, and he’s walking far too close to Lost Corner Road for my liking.  I was very worried at this point.

Today, I returned to my hero’s journey, to discover that he has made a little headway, forged onward from potential disaster, and found some fashion of rural civilization near the grand hub of Thankful, North Carolina.  So, it’s looking up for my soldier or freedom.

There are even houses ahead!  And North Wilkesboro is in sight!  I need a burger!  My feet hurt!  I need to watch the last episode of Chuck on Hulu

Go little man, go!

Fluttering Your Way This October

I killed a man.

Well, actually I killed several people, but to keep to the point, I killed a man by the name of Timothy Webb.  I thought this would be enough to keep him forever out of MY life, but, alas, I was mistaken.  Apparently, God took quite a fancy to him, and his actions as Christ, and CEO, at The Christ Corporation, and decided to make him an angel.  He gave Timothy his metaphorical wings, granted him the gift of a Key that supposedly held the power of Jesus, patted him on the back, and sent him on his way.

His first act was to show up on the doorstep of MY imagination, and demand that I do something about it.  I just kind of stared at him, in terrible disbelief, and shrugged.  This did nothing to satisfy him, so he invited himself in, began rambling about being ill-equipped to be an angel, and something about Natasha–the maligned angel known as Satan in our world–recovering well from her temporary bout of humanity.  So, for the next few hours we sat, until it became apparent to ME that the only way I would get rid of Timothy would be to write another story for him.  I proposed the idea, made up a completely fabricated storyline, waived him on, and then proceeded to forge onward with a plot that, in no way resembled the idea I had discussed with Timothy.  From this was born, Flutter: An Epic of Mass Distraction.

It now has a release date: October 1, 2010.

What is Flutter?  Well, it’s more devil fiction than Anointed, has significantly more explosions, plenty of characters who don’t survive to see the end, and an angelic system of social networking that is eerily familiar to Twitter.  But that’s not much of a description.  Kind of leaves you wanting, I admit.  So, instead, I offer you a brief look at some of what I wrote for my publisher, when I turned over the reigns of my baby:

In my eyes, it carries the same voice, and some of the feel, but none of the story structure of Anointed.  I wanted to write something, on the heels of a book that was philosophical, and, at times, rambling, with something a little more adventurous, a little more off the wall, and a lot more explodey (I really like that word all of a sudden)…I have included references, or creatures, as follows: Quantum Leap, Star Trek, Star Wars, Battlestar Galactica, Back to the Future, The Matrix, a dragon, a vampire (tee hee…I like him!), a bobsledding monkey, a wizard/piano duel , zombies, and a chocolate hot tub.  Ok, the last may not be fantasy in terms of the genre, but you find me anybody who doesn’t like everything listed before it, that isn’t as fond of the hot tub, and I’ll quit writing.  Oh, also, there’s a reference to swine flu, and to Google Buzz (which is mistakenly called Fuzz).  That, along with Natasha in a bikini, a porch made of cheese (it’s Gouda than you think!  Ugh…), a God who thinks he’s a child, a video game of explosive proportions, ugly angels, an escalator in the sky, a prison in Heaven, the rebirth of Jesus, and a very unfortunate moment for the masters of The Christ Corporation…there’s so much activity, and no break to sit in a restaurant to discuss the history of Satan, or in an office to discuss the history of Christ.  What I hope I have created is a book that you really just can’t put down, and one that makes you both want to read its predecessor, and anxiously await what is to come.

I like that I can be a complete tard when I write to her.  Granted, she published the first book, so it’s not like I’m going to fool her at this point.  It’s not quite back copy material (that bit you might read on the back of a book that summarizes the story), but it covers most of what I consider to be cool about Flutter.  I’ve been asked what this book is meant to lampoon, given the generalized lampoon of Christianity in Anointed, to which I say it’s predominantly a lampoon of social media, and how easily distracted the world has become by it, and to technology in general.  I’d like to think that I can wield this tale like a weapon, and waggle it in the face of all those who have fallen prey to its mighty grip, but, well, I’m one of them.  Twitter, Facebook, LinkedIn, Goodreads, email, blogging, texting, computer games, anything and everything that occurs on the cell phone, and so forth–I’m there.  Or, at least, mostly there.  So are you, most likely.  Be warned: The angels know, and they’re about to do something rash.  Ish.  Rash-ish.  More in the vein of rash, but less rash than rash might be.  Kind of, severe, in that, “Don’t make me come down there,” kind of way.

So, I’ll keep it at that for now.  I hope to offer a few snippets in the coming weeks.  The first will likely be a scene that takes place in God’s Office, as He prepares for a trip to Earth, with the ever-present moan of the Holy Ghost guiding the way.

Until then, I need to go lock the door.  I’m sure Timothy wants to know what to do now.