he..ho hi hello Matt!

Welcome back. Hope there was no disillusionment involved.

I am Superwoman!

What up, Mattizmo? Again, too quiet. Make some noise. Are you busy doing revisions? In that case, I'll shut the hell up.

Jimi Hendrix blues... one of my favorites. Ahh, and Billie Holiday is my favorite smackhead ever.

Hope you had a great weekend!

BRMB

I can't believe Wally's dead. Now I'm worried I might have an aneurysm.

Pure blasphemy you post on my page, man! The only saving grace is the "mad respect for Stevie Y". It's a good thing you like dancing, laughter and guinness...

wanna get into a music debate?

Had to ask that Original 6 question. It sorts out the true fans. I know you didn't google that shit, right?

You just slammed the shit out of my team. (the "goddamn Red Wings") What the hell you got against the wings? If you say "Yzerman" I am coming to get you!

Holy hell. A blues fan? This is going to be a beautiful rivalry.

I indeed had a Guinness last night... heaven. Pure liquid heaven. I might have to go have one now, as you are breaking my Red Wings heart.

sigh

This pic's for you, Matt. "You shall drink the... um, black sperm of my, um, well, vengeance." (If that's all right with you.)

ooh! A hockey lover? name the original 6! Are you a Blackhawks fan? I raise my Guinness to you! (thank god someone else appreciates a good stout!)

Hope your weekend is delicious!

So how was Calvino? I've never read any of him... Of course, you know you could always start on the next novel/short story... (This damn proto-spring weather is already starting to chafe my backside. I know I'm alone in this feeling, however. Too many people are much too happy. I begrudge them simple pleasures. Oh well.)

Dude, you've been awfully quiet lately... I'm still chuggin' away with your novel. All is well. (Why does the right side of your profile screen say you have "1 friends" when clearly you're up to your ass in them?) Peace out.

Don't mind me. I'm just sniffing around your profile, seeing if anything new is going on. Carry on as you were. Pretend I'm not here. I mean it. Stop reading this and go back to whatever the hell you were doing. Cut it the fuck out! Now! I really want to be alone here for a minute... I'm just takin' a breather... I am just going to hunch down in the corner and reposition my aura. (You know, that bed-made-of-buttermilk-pancakes thing doesn't sound half bad. I don't know if it sounds half good either. Is it possible to crap the bed made of buttermilk pancakes? I'd be willing to try. Peace out.)

Hey! I think you've coined my new all-time favorite phrase of disparagment: "crapped the bed." I'm going to try to incorporate into my conversations at work today. (You don't mind, do you? I'll pay you royalties.) It's perfectly visual in a way I can appreciate.

I do, however, think the publisher of that Stephen King book should think about redesigning the back cover to incorporate one of your blurbs:

"Wolves of the Calla... plods along like a motorboat with a trolling motor! I wanted to slam my head against a refrigerator! ...[King] really crapped the bed!" -- Matt, goodreads

Oh, Matt, I'd definitely jump at the chance to write the screenplay (or gunplay, as it were) for "Ganster Rap: The Death Row Years" if only I could be a wee bit revisionist with the history. My drunken "research" might indicate that Tupac and Biggie, far from being enemies, actually played chess by mail ("Yo, check fuckin' mate, bitch") and shared jello salad recipes ("How them fruit even be floatin' up in there, yo?"). Suge Knight, meanwhile, opened a farm for injured and abused dogs and cats in Santa Barbara, where he lavishes special attention (including handknit doggie sweaters with "Bone Appetit" stitched in the back) on a three-legged poodle named Woopsies. (Am I going to be shot tomorrow for writing any of this?)

P.S. I read your review of Stephen King, and you're starting to sound like my almost completely negative reviews of books I supposedly liked. "This book sucked ass, but I can't wait for part 6." Like the old Woody Allen line (I'm paraphrasing, badly): "The food is bad, and the portions are too small."

Matt, I am always Wiki-lazy, so if they slip a really big believable hoax in there someday, I'm gonna end up with a hook in my gullet.

Hadn't heard about the son's diagnosis thing, but the Koine anecdote came back to me as I was reading it.

One reads and wonders.

Of course, I think we could imagine what someone like James Randi would say lol.

I don't logically believe in psychic phenomena, or extrasensory perception, but I have about four incidents a year in which I do know things before they happen....just a few weeks ago on my blog on a Sunday I had this feeling about how things all fall apart on Tuesdays and wrote a poem called "Cascadia." It was totally against the grain of everything I was writing right then, which were actually all love poems. I didn't know why I wrote it.

Two days later the market crashed and I reread my poem...at least four lines seem to pinpoint exactly what was going to happen...before that, it was that bridge collapse out west...we were driving past the Caterpillar place with all these cranes and I just turned to my partner in the car and said "things are going to be falling down out west very soon."

We both thought it mean an earthquake (he's used to me doing this shit, but only like three or four times a year).

I suppose these things logically fall under the Law of Very Large Numbers.

But the weird thing is I rarely have that feeling and then nothing happens.

One time I did...it was a dream that a country in the South of Africa was going to develop a really destructive weapon (worse than nuclear) based on the writings of that strange Japanese genius who was sort of like their Tesla...he was murdered. The dream was so detailed.

The news broadcast had 3 of their government leaders bragging about the weapon on television to the world.

I can't even remember the weird Japanese genius's name.

I had never (consciously) heard his name before the dream, but i woke up speaking his name and Googling him to find he existed, which freaked me out.

And then I read about the Tesla connection and how out there he really was....(supposedly an IQ of 180 or higher).

None of that shit happened. But it was so real and exact...it wasn't even dreamlike.

Matt, I don't know about Philip K. Dick and VALIS weirdness. I'll have to research. Most of my biographical info comes secondhand from other writers as I've never (wonder why??) read any. The anecdotes and stories I get are scary and fascinating. Manic angelism, outside spiritual intelligences...beliefs he held like that?

Along those lines?

that rating of 4 stars...purely accidental. I don't much care for the system, however. I dont like placing a numerical value on how much i enjoyed the book. if you know what I mean.

Chapter 7 rocks. I'm almost caught up with you, gimmie one more day...