Kyle Michel Sullivan's Blog: https://www.myirishnovel.com/, page 62

Äingeru Vilabrillë...

I cannot think.

I cannot be

Caught in the insanity

Of hate and pain surrounding me.

I dream of peace I'll never see.

I need a spirit animal to guide me through this vile new world of social media. This lad, Äingeru, a breeder of Arabian horses in Spain, would more than do. Doesn't hurt he has an OnlyFans page as a way to make money to help provide for for his beautiful beasts. He'd come with no surprises, pun not intended...not really...

Because it wouldn't be a sexual thing, in all honesty. I have an aversion to uncircumcised dicks thanks to...well, to history. But he comes across as nicely growly. Protective of anyone he joins with, like a wolf. And just having someone like him to lean on...to stand between me and the world...it would be so nice, for a change.

Because everywhere I look, people boil with anger and disdain for others. I'm close to shutting down my Twitter, Instagram and Tribel because it's reached the point of full-blown madness and sends me careening towards despair at some of the amazingly stupid shit I've seen on them.

Lies. Misdirection. Racism. Anti-semitism. Cowardice. Criminal nonsense going unpunished. The usual It's all your fault and never mine kind of childishness. I've begun blocking people, something I swore I'd never do. But you have to in order to maintain some semblance of sanity.

It's at the point I'd be happy for Mother Nature to wipe us out and start over, with Cephalopods. They're actually more intelligent than 99% of the world's population...and I think I'm being kind in that assessment.

I'm finally understanding why hermits hermit.

Scrambled brains...

Can't focus, right now. I've got half a dozen stories slamming at me now that I'm done working on APoS-Derry. There's APoS-New World For Old, in Houston. Dair's Window, which I haven't touched in nearly 3 years. Part 3 of Blood Angel...then part 4, which is partially written. And APoS-Home Not Home is kicking at me with suggestions and notes and comments. And now a prose poem telling the story of a man who's kidnapped and held captive by a group of married men to be sexually abused, in secret...I posted the initial part I'd written on here weeks ago.

I'm feeling the urge to write something dark and brutal. Something in keeping with my other work. A need for it building up like a swollen river caught at a logjam, growing and pushing until it crashes through and causes untold destruction.

Part of the reason might be from my watching some of Peacock's John Wayne Gacy: Devil in Disguise. It focused a lot on Gacy's last victim, a 15-year-old boy named Rob Piest...a nice-looking kid who was just looking for a decent-paying job.

I have long had a room deep inside me that holds a near fanatical fascination with gay serial killers like Gacy, Dean Corll, William Bonin and Randy Kraft, amongst others. Men who kidnap, rape and murder young men and boys. I don't understand why they do it...and can't decide if I really want to know. I think something similar to their psychoses is hidden in that room and I don't want to confront it except through my writing.

I've been raped. I know what it means. How destructive it is. And yet...there's a part of me that finds the idea of forcing a man to be with me tantalizing. Sensuous, almost. I've had the opportunity to do that, a couple of times. Many years ago. And managed to keep my head and not take that step. But knowing it's there spooks me.

I mentioned that I could easily become a serial killer, to a co-worker, once. She said it wasn't possible; that I had too much empathy. I like to think that's why I never did anything to do that to someone. That using my books as an outlet was sufficient. But you never know, do you?

You never really know...

Strunk & White proves AI is of the devil...

To any and all, SpellCheck and Grammerly cannot be trusted to provide you with the correct usage of words. I found that out as I did one last check for grammar on APoS-Derry, using the option offered by the newest version of Microsoft Word. Here's some of what I got.

In the blue box is what I wrote. Below is what they think is correct. I'm too knowledgable of English grammar to fall for it, but a lot of people may think this damned program knows what it's talking about. Don't trust it. Get and read a copy of Strunk & White's Elements of Style for something simple and basic. Available in any bookstore or online.

Grammar Nazi, out.

 

Inputted...

All the corrections I made when doing my backwards proofing on APoS-Derry are completely input. Now I just need to make certain I have consistency on a couple of things -- like the spelling of O'Faelan, the last name of Brendan's best friend, Colm. I noticed I spelled it O'Fealan twice, which is easy to miss so double-checking. And I'm using Word's editor to check on my use of grammar.

I'm not adjusting my style to suit a basic grammatical method. Brendan writes and talks in his own fashion, and it ain't necessarily Strunk & White. What's fun is, I noticed on two occasions Word's editor wanted me to change too to to, which would have been the wrong version of it. Not cool, spellcheck.

That's why I stopped being a Grammar Nazi online; I realized Spellcheck was putting out the wrong info 25% of the time.

I'm neurotic enough to know what the proper uses are for your and you're, as well as their, they're and there. But if English is your second language or if your schooling has been second-rate when it comes to English, I can see where the damn program making the wrong suggestion would be difficult to ignore.

Just what you need in today's world -- a helpful program that will fuck with your mind.

Structurally sound

Digging through APoS-New World For Old is showing me that I'm skating through the story, so the next drafts are for deepening the characters and their meaning in events. What I have right now is just the foundation of the story, with points noted here and there to remind me of what needs to be looked into.

I've read through to the point where Brendan meets Evangelyne and is about to embark on a relationship that has disastrous results. I've also come up with another possible explanation for Brendan's disappearance from Derry -- that he was arrested and is being held by the British in a secret place. Which sounds ridiculous, but it mitigates the prevalent rumor that he was executed by the IRA and buried in an unmarked grave, and conspiracies are often preferred to the truth.

Part of the reason for that shift is how Eamonn, having been arrested for munitions running, is becoming a good communicator for PIRA in the H-Block prison cells. People thinking they had his brother killed for messing up an operation, the indication being he was passing information to the British through Joanna, that would hurt Eamonn's reputation. So up comes this new suggestion and a flat out denial from PIRA that they killed Brendan.

I don't know if that will really work within the story, yet, but it's another step closer to solidifying the fact that his new life is not connected to his old one except through his aunt and uncle, and they are hard as nails about not releasing information about it.

Did a lot of this in the airport while waiting for my plane. I'd thought about going to the Academy Museum of Motion Pictures, but found I was trying to talk myself into it. Like it would make some kind of difference in my life. Reality is, it would remind me of how I failed in that endeavor, so focused on reading through APoS-2. And I'm happier for it. This is my direction in life, now, not movies.

Old man complaints...

I am so fucking tired, and it's not just physical weariness. Tuesday and yesterday were spent going over printed matter...hundreds and hundreds of pieces, and the monotony of the job got to me. As did having to stand throughout because it was that or keep getting up and down as I sorted through the morass.

Turned out only half of the stacks of items I was going through were on the list, even though all were supposed to be. But I had to check every single one of them, and even wound up finding some that had no identifying notes but were on the list and working out what their inventory number was. Then today was getting it picked up and driving out to Sierra Madre to collect 11 cartons for another shipment, on my own.

It's not a lot of physical labor, and the drive out and then down to LAX were me in a car with AC and my phone tuned to KCRW's Eclectic 24. But I'm still exhausted, thanks to LA traffic demanding full and complete attention. Then tomorrow is packing everything into containers to ship out. I took a half hour nap at my hotel and I'm still not exactly 100%.

I can't keep doing this. I'm too old and out of shape. And I also have other priorities, now. I need the money, but if it means working myself into a grave before I'm done with APoS and other works, that's not an option.

I've read through the point where Brendan helps a woman escape her abusive husband, but he finds her then kills her and himself. Which sends Bren spiraling into despair. It still all seems a bit perfunctory, but I'm not really doing a rewrite, yet, so I'll worry about that when I dig in for good. I like the line of the story's events; I just don't like how they aren't really organic, yet.

One interesting aspect of this area is how Brendan is revealing a violent streak, that can appear when provoked. And more than a hint of cruelty. But also tenderness and understanding. Pretty intense for a lad who's seventeen going into eighteen.

I love LA but not the Valley...

I only have to drive 3.7 miles to where I'm packing up this collection, but the San Fernando Valley drivers are so insane it takes me 25 minutes to get there. Hi, I'm getting ahead of you and if you don't let me I'll hit the side of your car. And the everlovin', HONK! You waited till your car did a restart to start moving? WTF for? Or...You have 2/3 of a car length in front of you; MOVE UP!

My LA attitude is more attuned to the Basin, where it's fast and furious and pay fucking attention, even in standstill traffic on La Cienega. I can handle aggression on the road; what drives me nuts is the Do what I fucking want you to do, even though I haven't told you what it is because I'm too busy being an asshole and not paying attention to you even though I want you to pay attention to me kind of shit.

There's also a lot of how can I not help you at grocery stores and restaurants, but that's not surprising, after Covid. People don't give a shit, anymore, and I can't blame them. Corporations are buying everything up and doubling prices but cutting back on wages. Small wonder so many are pushing to start up unions. It's the only way to make the bastards listen and reconsider not fucking you over, not completely.

SAG/AFTRA passed its new deal with the studios. Now comes the fun of watching executives find new and more creative ways of fucking people out of the money they should be paid. Seems like nearly everyone in the upper echelon of executives are taking their cues from that orange bastard and just blowing off contracts, when they feel like it.

I'm close to hating capitalism and the greed of too goddamn many people.

Rant over. Now I can keep reading through APoS-New World For Old...and think of how much crazier I can make it. Ah, Houston in the 70s...

Getting busy...

Today was checking books off against the list I had, and it was not easy. But I got it down to where only 5 books could not be found on the list and a half-dozen were listed but not in the stacks. I've let the powers that be know and they will have final word. Tomorrow comes printed matter that will be a bit easier, since it's numbered. For the most part.

I've found the WiFi in my hotel is too prone to letting others link to my laptop so I'm using my phone's hotspot. It's good, here. It's nearly non-existent at the job, but if I work it right I can do it there, too.

The photo is the view from my downstairs window. Not bad. Be better if i could see the ocean.

Got through more of APoS-New World For Old and hit a spot where Brendan starts to wonder about the arbitrariness of the world. He almost joined Elmer Wayne Henley and David Brooks in going to Dean Corll's party, but because he had a fan he wants to repair in hand (one he'd found in a trash can) he doesn't go. And two weeks later it comes out that those three were raping and killing boys.

It gets Brendan to thinking about this insane need for control so many people have. He's wondering if it's a way to stave off accepting that shit just happens in life, without rhyme or reason. If you can control someone else, that means you can control your circumstances and the world is no longer arbitrary...or something like that. It's a bit juvenile of a concept, but Bren is just 17. He thinks older, in many ways, but is naive in others.

I just don't want his slowly emerging awareness of life and its cruelty and beauty to be dismissed as childish prattle.

Catching up...

I've begun re-reading what I did with APoS-New World For Old, to re-familiarize myself with it and note where I need to make corrections to tie it in properly with Derry. Nothing serious, yet. The first chapters deal with Brendan coming out of his shock at seeing the bomb go off and people killed...including Joanna. I've already been told by one editor that ending traumatized her.

I'm not completely happy with the explanation of how Brendan was brought into the US, but I'll deal with then when I start a real re-write. This will actually be #5, if I go by how my files are numbered. Only 477 more drafts to go.

I'm currently in LA and had a decent flight that was actually on time. I'm still recovering from that infection that still causes a tickle in my throat that makes me hack like a 40-year smoker. But I can feel it's getting better in little bitty steps.

Tomorrow is the first job up in the Hollywood Hills. I took a drive up, just to see what it looked like...and it's one of those scary roads that has room for one car at a time. And I've got a Ford Bronco that's like a barge. And I don't know what it is about Fords, but I have a hell of a time seeing over the hood. It's like the damn thing is bulging up in front of me. It was the same way in that Mustang. Makes me very uncomfortable.

Especially when the damn road is so twisty-turny.

Corrected...

There's a certain numbness that comes to me when I've finished a full scale edit like this. And I mean one this precise. I didn't just correct typos and misspellings and set the proper tenses of words throughout the story, but also cut and reworked sentences and moments to be clearer. Page by page, going backwards to keep myself from getting caught up in the reading of it.

That's not easy to do. Most of the pages started with half of a sentence in half of a paragraph. Then you jump to the page immediately prior and it's a completely different sentence and thought and time in the story. It's a bit jolting. But that's what I needed. Next comes inputting the changes into the text of the hardcover copy of the story.

I know I still missed some. I went back into chapter 4 to check on something and found, without even trying to, a sentence beginning with a lower-case letter instead of upper-case. And that led me to run through the entire alphabet, using the "find" tool looking for any others. I'd input ". a" and see what it came up with, which was usually nothing. I did find one instance where I'd put a space after an ellipses, which I don't do, so corrected that, too. But nothing else popped up.

Of course, that still led me to rethinking a word I was using for a couple of women gossiping in their kitchen. The word for that in Derry is craic -- so changed that...which led to me splitting another sentence in two, since it made better sense that way.

Swear to God, I could work on this another 10 years and find issues that need to be addressed or bits that needed to be adjusted for clarity. But I can't keep doing that. I promised Brendan his books will come out, next year, and so they shall. I think I once mentioned a schedule of January, July and December. I'm going to keep to that...

...if the fates will let me.

Meaning next is New World for Old in Houston. I have editors wanting to read it, already.