Kyle Michel Sullivan's Blog: https://www.myirishnovel.com/, page 19

The Perils of Dirc...

I think I may have written myself into a corner, with The Beast Dines Out. I've got Dirc arrested and held in the back of a house in Reno, NV...locked into something he refers to as a Frankenstein chair, with clamps around his wrists and ankles...and I need to get him out.

I know I could change that but I just don't want to because it's what needs to happen. It's just...I have no idea how the hell to do it.

Irin's still out and about, holding a deputy sheriff as hostage. Dr. Captain, who is now named Barnes, and Helga, who still has no real name, are in control of Dirc...they think. He says they think they are. So it must be so...

One more aspect? Barnes makes a deal with Dirc over the Iridium rock he's got, then the second he is able to reneges on it. He's willing to let the deputy get killed if it means keeping control of Dirc and finding Irin. And the story keeps rolling along. Boom-boom-boom.

Oh, blues skies, this morning. Shipment picked up without a hint of rain. And driving around LA...God, how I miss it. Traffic sucks. The drivers are assholes. It's hard as shit to find parking. But it's home, to me. I know how to live here. I'd move back in a heartbeat, if I could afford it.

But I'd need a new car with an automatic, because no way in hell will I deal with this traffic, again, using a stick.

Rewriting...

It rained all day, and still is...so I'm glad I didn't try to pick up the cartons. Hopefully tomorrow will be clear. Positive thing is, I didn't spend a dime. I already had food stored in.

I got a weather alert from Southwest warning me my flight into and out of Baltimore might be affected by a monster snowstorm...which may also hit Chicago and Buffalo. I need to be at the Chicago job, next week, so I changed my return flight to drop me at Midway (instead of changing planes in Baltimore to get home). I'll still fly home out of O'Hare, as originally planned once this job is done. Weather permitting.

I stayed in my hotel room, today, and rewrote the chapter I'd done for The Beast Dines Out on the flight to LA. It needed a lot of rearranging and I'm not quite done with it, yet...but it's better. Leading into the final confrontation with the feds who are chasing after Dirc and Irin.

I'm still stuck as to what to work on after I'm done with BDO. Nothing is really connecting with me, yet. Maybe I should do some artwork to clear my head of the chaos. It's just...there's so damn much of it, now.

Twenty years ago, I wrote a script for a martial artist and had an Aikido master say he feared we were entering a new age of darkness. I thought I was being properly bleak and foreboding when I put that bit of dialogue in. Now? I may have been prescient.

I didn't want to be...

Not even In-n-Out worked...

It's pretty sad when you're in such a down mood not even a #2 cheeseburger meal, animal style, at In-n-Out can cheer you up. I mean, it was tasty and done just right and I enjoyed it while I ate it, but I'm really too emotionally and physically exhausted for it to work. Hell...for ANYthing to work.

Did my bankruptcy zoom meeting, this morning...and I was fourth in line after two women forced into bankruptcy by nasty divorces and a stoner dude who had trouble focusing. And I feel like such a fucking loser.

I got into this shit partly by trying to publicize A Place of Safety-Derry and getting nowhere with it, and from money I'd send my brother in San Antonio to pay for his rent and some running money, and car repairs, and research for APoS and groceries...and on and on.

Before Covid hit, I was closing in on paying off everything. Did all my back-taxes owed. Cleared one credit card, completely. Had my savings growing to $32,000. Then I lost 40% of my income, and that's despite getting unemployment for that period and the stimulus check. Credit cards were maintained because I still paid more than the minimum amount, but the balances continued to increase.

And now that Beast is in the White House wanting to kill Social Security and cut Medicare with everyone rallying around to help him do it...I had to do something to end the spiral I was caught in. I mean, this was going to happen sooner or later, so better to do it now than have to do it in a year.

It's affecting me in ways I don't like...like in writing The Beast Dines Out. I let Dirc specifically target a MAGAt...and made him dirty. Unclean. Dirc had to wash him before he could do anything, like a raccoon washes its meals. And there's going to be more like this, because I am having too damn much fun with it.

Maybe I'm the Beast...FEED ME!

I hate technology...

I'm packing a library of antiquarian books to go to auction, so I have a list that was sent to me via email. It's an XLS where each title has its own ID code/number. Nice and easy. Working on my laptop, I input the code into the search bar and it takes me right to the book. Movin' right along.

Except...sometime between noon and 2pm, Excel decided to change all the codes past #4500 to exact numerical order. Which they weren't. There were over a hundred books listed, but there were gaps in the codes. 4502 did not follow 4501; the next number was 4511.

It also removed the highlighting I did on those books that had been packed. I don't know why it did that, or exactly when...just somewhere in that 2-hour stretch. Because books I knew I'd ticked off under the correct number were no longer showing they'd been packed. And it only affected the numbers after 4500; numbers prior to that were fine.

What it boils down to is, my associate and I are having to go through the boxes we've already done to verify all the copies that have been packed. Precision is required. We've checked 5 of 9, so far; the rest we're going through tomorrow. I allowed a half day extra just in case, and looks like it's good I did. We should finish by Thursday night, then pickup is Friday morning.

But I'm dead beat, right now. Just want to sleep for the next ten years.

Hot roddin'...

Ha, the joys of air travel, today. Slammed like sardines into a can, with no room between seats to work your laptop comfortably. Even being Southwest Business Select and getting onto the plane first or second, giving you a shot at the exit row...which supposedly has more legroom...if you’re on a 737-700, that’s a joke.

Other airlines charge extra for the exit row seats, because they’re extra legroom. You get to pay an additional fee in order to be ready to assist in case of an emergency. So ridiculous and petty, so I avoid that. And...Southwest lets me check two bags at no charge, so I accept the limitations.

I have ways around it, and truth is...if this had been an 800 I’d have scored the extra room. But on this beast I had to do the bit where, once we’re airborne, I pull my carryon out from under the seat in front of me and prop it against my seat, like it’s part of an easy chair. That way, I can stretch my legs out under the chair in front of me. 

 I worked on BDO during the flight. Got started on a serious confrontation between Dirc and Dr. Captain at a Starbucks...but I think I’m missing how to intensify it so will hold off, for a moment, and let it percolate. I know Irin’s working with Dirc to counter anything Dr. Captain might pull.Hmm, I think it’s time to give that guy a name. I gave one to the Deputy, and the Cute Guard needs one, too. And can’t forget Helga and Lon... 

 Yeah, this section needs a lot more thought. I have my readers to consider, as well...and I do love being able to say that.

KISS...

Keep It Simple, Stupid. Don't read too much into this story you're writing. It's not like it's ever going to be seen as great literature...or even good fiction. It's fun fantasy for a niche group and they're enjoying themselves with it. Average rating is 9.5 out of 10. What more can you ask for?

Well...I would like an idea as to how I'm going to end The Beast Dines Out. A new character's become part of the story...a kid named Lon, who inadvertently confirmed to Helga that Dirc and Irin are in Reno.

So now he has disappeared, probably taken in for questioning. By Helga. The one person Dirc despises and has promised to kill.

Will Dirc be able to save the kid from a fate worse than death? He knows what she will do to him; knows it, first hand. But the kid also put a spotlight on the boys, so no telling. It's as much of a mystery to me as it is to the readers. But they're hanging on, for now, because I include something salacious with every chapter...that also furthers the story. Really. It does.

I think.

I hope.

Hell, I don't know. I just caught myself contradicting an important part of the storyline and need to explain it away in the next installment. I'm starting to feel a bit weird about this, as if I'm trying to top myself with each chapter.

Of course, it's also possible I'm just enjoying the salaciousness I keep coming up with...

Odds and ends...

I was trying to finish The Beast Dines Out before I headed off on these two jobs, but that ain't gonna happen. The story keeps rolling along. It's up to 80K in wordage, now, and just when I think it's winding down, it shoots off on another tangent. I know it won't continue forever...but still...

While the feedback off GayDemon has been very positive, I have been told a couple of times that in some of my other books my endings came across as rushed. Which could be true. Once I reach a certain stage in the story, I just want it finished.

But this time I'm refusing to let myself fall into that trap. That it's for a book that's closer to gay porn than anything I've ever written...and I don't care how some people classify other parts of my work...I find it amazing that it's working out.

I never had a plan or outline for this story. Just the main character, Dirc, and the extraterrestrial he calls the Beast, and their basic setup--provide men as sustenance. All others came along when the story wanted them.

After all, the idea of ETs using us as food is nothing new. H G Wells suggested as much in The War of the Worlds, and The Twilight Zone had one episode called To Serve Man. Oh, and let's not forget The Little Shop of Horrors and The Day of the Triffids...yummy people.

So...the story will be done when it's done, and I will not cut it short. Nor will I back down from the reality of Dirc really being a rapist and killer, and not caring about that. Same for his lover, Irin. Maybe it's a comment on how casual so many people in power are about the lives of women, so I'm showing how it can be with men. I dunno. That's just the way the story is going.

Life in the big city.

Doing better...

Like a good boy, I had a chef salad for dinner, with eggs and ham mixed into the lettuce, tomatoes, olives and cheese. And my blood sugar dropped to 140. So I pulled out another book I have for good food (for me) and will see if I can stick to the two of them. Some of the recipes look delicious, but all are time-consuming. I guess since I'm semi-retired I should have the time, now.

I finished getting the last things ready for the jobs over the next two weeks. Ordered packing materials. Checked with my assistant in LA and sent him the address. Got the address labels and collection notes. Now all I can do is hope it all comes together.

Of course, I'm flying at a time when air travel's taken a hit, confidence-wise. Nothing much I can do about that except make sure my will is up-to-date and see what happens. Of course, the MAGAt crew is blaming all three crashes on Biden and Democrats, ignoring their part in the mess. Meaning they won't do anything to correct the issues.

I have never loathed anyone, ever, as much as I loathe Felon47, Muskrat, and their handler, Putin. Three men I would love to hear were dead, tomorrow. Yes, JD Vance would take over the presidency, but he doesn't have the same ability to garner followers as that orange bastard. In fact, he's proven to be quite a cowardly little shit, so it would probably mean the beginning of the decline of the party.

Pouring my anger into The Beast Dines Out is helping me keep sane. One day I'm going to look back on this book...and it is a full-fledged novel, with well over 65K in wordage...and be amazed at how vicious I could be. How casually cruel.

I don't know if that is good or bad for me, as a writer. But it's that or crash and burn into despair over what's happening. And while it's nice the Democrats have actually started fighting back, I honestly fear it may be too little too late.

It's like being caught on the Titanic with the lifeboats gone and the tail of the ship upending. All you can do is ride it out and hope for the best.

Changing how I eat

I'm a sloppy eater. Way too many carbs, not enough veggies, lazy about what I make for meals. Half the time I'm nuking something. Like Amy's Enchiladas and Chile Relleno. But I also go for Stouffer's Fettuccini Alfredo and their meat loaf, neither of which is good for me.

Well, that laziness is catching up, thanks to having Type 2 diabetes. My blood sugar readings are increasing, and last night it shot up to 380 for a little while. Twice what it should be. And I don't know why, because I had red beans and rice, which is considered a safe food.

But...I also had Club Crackers and ice tea with a bit of sugar. Neither good for me. So I spoke with my doctor and either I change what I eat or I go on another medication to stop it. Shots done once a week to suppress my appetite.

That...I do not want.

Funny thing is, half the time when I eat, I'm not really hungry. I'm just comfort nibbling. Something to do as I try to figure out what it is I'm writing. I'll have some chips and salsa or guacamole. Club Crackers and cheese. Glass of DPZ to go with it. Then I eat between 5pm and 6pm because that's when I'm supposed to when half the time I could wait till 7 or 8.

It's childish, I know, and what makes it even funnier is The Beast Dines Out is about shipping men off to an extraterrestrial so they can go on the menu. Of course, feasting on them would be okay because they'd fall under the protein part of a meal plan.

I'm too much a creature of habit when it comes to eating. I'll fall back on preferred meals when I can't think of what I want for lunch or dinner. Things like tuna and Sandwich Spread (though I can also do a tuna salad with green apple, pickles and onions mixed with onion and Mayo or Yoghurt). Or a hot dog cut in half, set on a slice of bread, baked beans layered over it and a slice of Velveeta cheese on top, then baked. Very basic things that I grew up eating.

My mother didn't cook much; neither did my grandmother. I learned to make other meals so I'd get something more than the 6 dishes they knew, between them. None of which are really good for a diabetics.

Of course, I could also maintain better control of my portions. Sometimes my eyes are bigger than my stomach and I put more on my plate than I need...then have been programmed to eat everything on that plate, so get stuffed.

Oh, well...seems I may eat myself to death.

Need more tacos...

I need to make another trip to Taco Bell. Their soft tacos fulfill my every need for comfort food, and I'm so ready for some. I had one of my way-the-fuck-off-days, where I bounced against every wall I have in my apartment. Not in a manic way, just like a pinball slowly dinging from pillar to post before getting anywhere near the flipper.

Because I wound up writing this...

The feds are closing in on Dirc and Irin, in The Beast Dines Out, and....

“...We need to get out of the country...” Irin said.

“Do we?” AndI gave him my most innocent expression, all doe-eyed and shit.

Oh, he was way beyond exasperated, at that question. “Dirc, they’re closin’ in on us, and I do not want to go back to those fuckin’ rooms to get probed and fucked over and...”

“Me, neither, but once we start running we can’t stop.”

“So what d’you think we oughta do? Buy a house in the suburbs with a picket fence to hide behind, and make like a Fifties sitcom? Or else a penthouse suite overlookin’ Lake Tahoe and act like we’re free and clear?”

“I think we should take care of them before they find us.”

Now he looked at me as if I was crazy as fuck. “That’s the dumbest fuckin’ thing I’ve ever heard. We don’t even know how many of ‘em there are!”

“But we do know what four of ‘em look like. And I think Dr. Captain would make the Beast very happy...as would his buddies, and...”

“One of them’s female. Boss don’t want them.”

“She could just disappear.”

He hesitated, considering it. Because she’d done to him everything she’d done to me, and for that I’d happily rip her fucking head off. But he shook his head.“I-I-I can’t see that workin’. White woman vanishes, the media freaks out and it’s national news...and...and...”

“Okay, she’d dead and Dr. Captain killed her. Raped her. I can set that up. People’ll believe it.”

“But the other two...”

“I’ll provide them to the Beast, in front of dear doctor. Let him watch. Try and explain that.”

“Dirc, this is fuckin’ crazy! I can’t go along with it.”

“Then we kill ourselves.”

“WHAT?!

 “Ask the Beast for clones. Crash the car and burn them up.”

That actually made him stop and think. “...But that means we lose everything, again...”

“You got any better ideas?”

“You mean other than runnin’?”

I shrugged a yes...then a wild thought hit me. “What if they need us to be free and clear?”

“Need us...WHAT!?”

“Yeah. What if we get to be too important to them for them to do anything to us? Maybe even get 'em to bring us...offerings.”

He turned back to packing. “Now you’re fuckin’ with me...”

“No, no, think about it. Russia’s an asshole country fucking around with everybody. Bombing hospitals and schools and homes in cities everywhere. Messing with elections. And what does the world do in answer? Bullshit. Just wag their fingers and say something stupid like, That’s not nice. Why? Oil. They need Russia’s oil to be on the market to keep prices down.”

Irin rolled his eyes in exasperation. “Dirc, I think it has somethin’ to do with their nukes, too.”

“I know, I know, it’s just an example.” The idea was building in me and I was getting really excited about it. “Now look at China, all the shit they pull.”

“Again, a country, with nukes, not a couple of guys...”

“But I heard once that...that they’re got some kind of earth everybody needs to make cell phones and shit...”

That jolted him into actually thinking. “Oh, yeah...um...” It took him a moment, but he finally whipped out his cell phone and did some quick research. After some reading, he said, “Rare earth...but it’s not that rare; it’s just hard to get.”

“Okay...what about something like platinum? That’s worth more than gold and better and...”

“No, Dirc, that’s...that's crazy and it couldn't possibly work because we don't...we...that’s...oh, hold on...” He did some more digging on his phone, and after a moment he got a look on his face that told me my idea was bearing fruit. “Iridium,” whispered from him. “And Rhodium...and Palladium...not extremely high value but...but rare and...wait...”

He bolted from the room, calling, “George, you got anybody in precious metals?”

I scurried after him and heard George snarl, “Fuck no! Ain’t worth the fuckin’ trouble. Why?”

“Nothin’,” said Irin. “Just...just thought maybe I could get some platinum.”

“Stick with diamonds, Irin. Safer.”

Irin nodded then spun around and shoved me back into our room.

“George is an idiot,” he murmured. “Yeah, diamonds bring more immediate cash, but they don’t protect you. However...if we could work up a steady supply of rare earth minerals like rhodium and palladium and ruthenium, and we could keep it flowin’, you might be right. No one’d want to cut the supply. These things're used in electronics, cars, solar panels, space ships, all kinds of things. But I...I’ll need to talk to the Boss, first. See what he can do.”

“Have him check some asteroids. I hear they're rich in all that shit.”

Irin nodded, saying, “He'll still want to be supplied...”

I just shrugged, because I knew exactly who to send him, next--that fucking Dr. Captain.

--------------

I like to think of myself as a decent person who's capable of empathy...but there ain't none of that is this fucked up story. It's wall-to-wall Fuck you, and I wonder if this is really me, now? That Felon47 asshole has driven me into a complete Fuck it stage?