Nick Mamatas's Blog, page 23
February 21, 2015
Mr. Burns, A Post-Electric Play
I'm not much for spoiler culture. I actually hate it. It is simply impossible to spoil, say, an Iron Man movie or a popular fiction novel, as their plots are rote and overdetermined down to the minute. I was pleased though, to arrive just on time for today's matinee of Mr. Burns, A Post-Electric Play by Anne Washburn, as not having the time to read through the program kept the third act of this amazing play for being ruined for me.
The play begins in the near-future, just a year or so after a great plague and subsequent disasters (mostly untended nuclear power plants melting down) has killed the vast majority of the population of the United States. Bands of people wander the ruined landscape, and the pro-social among them keep lists of the people they encounter in books, in the hope of letting one another know who is still alive. One cell of people are gathered around the couch, trying to recall exactly the "Cape Feare" episode of The Simpsons. A new wanderer comes upon the scene, and though he has never seen an episode he still recalls a line thanks to the program's cultural ubiquity and his annoying ex-girlfriend. Even better, he was once a part of an amateur company dedicated to Gilbert & Sullivan, which is referred to in the episode.
There's also some dramatic bits about plants melting down and lost relatives and someone's attempt to try to keep the generators going and the importance of a road atlas.
SEVEN YEARS LATER our crew is now an official theatrical troupe, and they're not the only one. There are many Simpsons re-enactor groups out there, but nobody really recalls all the lines and scenes—these have become commodities to be bartered over, just like the last few cans of Diet Coke. The post-apocalyptic play is a common theme. The Star Wars re-enactment scene of the 2002 film Reign of Fire is the only good thing about that movie:
And it's also the motor of the plot of Emily St. John Mandel's great novel Station Eleven, which is at the top of my Hugo ballot. My ahistorical blind guess is that there had been, in the late 1990s and early 2000s, some discussions of the puppet theaters in Auschwitz and the other Nazi concentration camps, as Holocaust deniers were using these to claim that, eh, it wasn't so bad over there. I know that this swirl of conversations influenced my fiction.
In Mr. Burns our cast is spritely, but threatened by superior competitors who have mastered as many as twenty-seven episodes of the show. A few things have already been misremembered:"Bart of Darkness" is misremembered as "Heart of Bartness", for example. There's also dissension in the ranks—wouldn't one of the players be happier joining one of the West Wing troupes? What the gang does have going for them is their "commercials", which recall a happier time where wine and workplace refrigerators full of lunches were a thing. Aaah. But it's still a mess out there, and then a shot rings out and...
After the intermission, it is now SEVENTY-FIVE YEARS LATER. The audience gasped. The show is still going on, only barely recognizable. It is a Mystery Play meets Punch and Judy, with misappropriated riffs from The Flintstones theme song and Britney Spears and even the casual conversations had by the troupe in the previous act/generation. The world has not recovered; it will not recover. Take a look:
The third act is amazing. One niggle is that it might be a little too amazing—post-apocalyptic fidelity trumped entertainment value as the metasymbolic set pieces dragged on a bit too long. But it was really thrilling. ACT did a great job, and I can't imagine the play being done appropriately for less money or on a smaller stage, even though the plays within the play were designed around the end of the world and built out of garbage. Which I suppose is itself some sort of comment to be made on the nature of spectacle and pop culture. Anyway, if the play rolls in to your town—in a theater that is, not an abandoned warehouse with a collapsed ceiling and a local security detail ready to rough you up if you try to sell the cast a forged Simpsons line—go see it.
The play begins in the near-future, just a year or so after a great plague and subsequent disasters (mostly untended nuclear power plants melting down) has killed the vast majority of the population of the United States. Bands of people wander the ruined landscape, and the pro-social among them keep lists of the people they encounter in books, in the hope of letting one another know who is still alive. One cell of people are gathered around the couch, trying to recall exactly the "Cape Feare" episode of The Simpsons. A new wanderer comes upon the scene, and though he has never seen an episode he still recalls a line thanks to the program's cultural ubiquity and his annoying ex-girlfriend. Even better, he was once a part of an amateur company dedicated to Gilbert & Sullivan, which is referred to in the episode.
There's also some dramatic bits about plants melting down and lost relatives and someone's attempt to try to keep the generators going and the importance of a road atlas.
SEVEN YEARS LATER our crew is now an official theatrical troupe, and they're not the only one. There are many Simpsons re-enactor groups out there, but nobody really recalls all the lines and scenes—these have become commodities to be bartered over, just like the last few cans of Diet Coke. The post-apocalyptic play is a common theme. The Star Wars re-enactment scene of the 2002 film Reign of Fire is the only good thing about that movie:
And it's also the motor of the plot of Emily St. John Mandel's great novel Station Eleven, which is at the top of my Hugo ballot. My ahistorical blind guess is that there had been, in the late 1990s and early 2000s, some discussions of the puppet theaters in Auschwitz and the other Nazi concentration camps, as Holocaust deniers were using these to claim that, eh, it wasn't so bad over there. I know that this swirl of conversations influenced my fiction.
In Mr. Burns our cast is spritely, but threatened by superior competitors who have mastered as many as twenty-seven episodes of the show. A few things have already been misremembered:"Bart of Darkness" is misremembered as "Heart of Bartness", for example. There's also dissension in the ranks—wouldn't one of the players be happier joining one of the West Wing troupes? What the gang does have going for them is their "commercials", which recall a happier time where wine and workplace refrigerators full of lunches were a thing. Aaah. But it's still a mess out there, and then a shot rings out and...
After the intermission, it is now SEVENTY-FIVE YEARS LATER. The audience gasped. The show is still going on, only barely recognizable. It is a Mystery Play meets Punch and Judy, with misappropriated riffs from The Flintstones theme song and Britney Spears and even the casual conversations had by the troupe in the previous act/generation. The world has not recovered; it will not recover. Take a look:
The third act is amazing. One niggle is that it might be a little too amazing—post-apocalyptic fidelity trumped entertainment value as the metasymbolic set pieces dragged on a bit too long. But it was really thrilling. ACT did a great job, and I can't imagine the play being done appropriately for less money or on a smaller stage, even though the plays within the play were designed around the end of the world and built out of garbage. Which I suppose is itself some sort of comment to be made on the nature of spectacle and pop culture. Anyway, if the play rolls in to your town—in a theater that is, not an abandoned warehouse with a collapsed ceiling and a local security detail ready to rough you up if you try to sell the cast a forged Simpsons line—go see it.
February 20, 2015
43
It's my birthday. I think I've been updating LJ on my birthday since at least my 30th birthday. Jesus.
This week, I took a couple of days off to care for Oliver, as his day care center was closed for some reason. On the Ash Wednesday of the Western Devils, we went to an Italian joint for a vegetarian meal.
And yesterday was Chinese New Year, or the apex of the season anyway, so of course it was time for dumplings.
As we don't have a lot of relatives around here, going out is a good way to civilize Oliver and help him become a human being. He's doing pretty well so far; he's quite social but doesn't make too much noise.
Of course, as it is my birthday, you are invited to buy yourself a present: The Nickronomicon, Starve Better, and the self-published Kindle edition of Move Under Ground pay royalties most consistently hint hint.
Another present you can buy for yourself has nothing to do with me: Borderlands Books in San Francisco is selling sponsorships in a bid to stay open.
So, Grexit by Easter (Greek Easter that is), or what?
This week, I took a couple of days off to care for Oliver, as his day care center was closed for some reason. On the Ash Wednesday of the Western Devils, we went to an Italian joint for a vegetarian meal.
And yesterday was Chinese New Year, or the apex of the season anyway, so of course it was time for dumplings.
As we don't have a lot of relatives around here, going out is a good way to civilize Oliver and help him become a human being. He's doing pretty well so far; he's quite social but doesn't make too much noise.
Of course, as it is my birthday, you are invited to buy yourself a present: The Nickronomicon, Starve Better, and the self-published Kindle edition of Move Under Ground pay royalties most consistently hint hint.
Another present you can buy for yourself has nothing to do with me: Borderlands Books in San Francisco is selling sponsorships in a bid to stay open.
So, Grexit by Easter (Greek Easter that is), or what?
February 16, 2015
Attention!
UPDATE: Contact has been made, and also Capclave provided some information that will be very handy in case of extreme emergency. Thanks to everyone who tweeted and Facebooked this last night.
Any DC area fans/folks know or remember Monika. I don't recall her last name, just that she spelled her first with a k. Sounds like she could use some local NON-POLICE NON-STATE assistance.
Originally posted by
shinygobonkers
at postWow. I haven't written in here since the start of 2015. Didn't realize its been that long.
Still alive, but...not for long, I don't think.
Don't want to be melodramatic. Maybe will write more, before. But I am just...done with things. Done with the mindless sitting around by myself day after day doing nothing, being useless, done with the constant crazy in my head. Apparently I need two, possibly three teeth extracted including one, possibly two molars (plus wisdom teeth too) and the idea of having no teeth, not being able to chew properly, nope, not dealing with it. Just...no. I am done.
It's been long enough. Other people will disagree, will argue, will be terribly hurt, and I truly am sorry about that, but ultimately it is my life, my choice, my right to decide to end it. It is not a sudden decision. I have felt this way on some level, thought about and wanted to do so to some degree or another since my very first entry here. So many years have passed, many things have changed, but this, this has always remained.
There's a kind of calm certainty about it now. Not a question of what I want, not feeling torn, not struggling simply...certainty. A question of when, and where, and not if. The answer to which will remain in my head because I've already spoken more about this than I should have. Nothing immediate. Promised mother I'd come visit next week, want to hang out with tamea while I'm in new york, walk around the city at least once more even if it is freezing cold. Put my things in order, maybe finish reading a book or two.
I was watching age of ultron trailers the other day and felt kind of bummed its not coming out until may. Too far away that, too long to wait. It looks like a cool movie. D already bought plane tickets for a family thing in april and feel bad to make that a waste of money, but even if i could pop enough painkillers to ignore teeth extraction issue that long, don't know that I could deal life for that much longer either. Days like this...nothing terrible happened, nothing dramatic, just another day of doign nothing and knowing i should do something and nope, nothing and it just...reinforces it.
It feels terrible when someone is begging you not to kill yourself (because you should have kept your mouth shut, but you didn't) but the alternative, this, day after day even longer as everything gets worse and worse....I've reached my limit, passed it. Maybe I'll agree to 'try something else' and maybe I won't, because I do hate seeing people upset on account of me, but it really is just a question of when, where, and what I would like to get done before then.
I hate and deeply do regret hurting people who care about me, but this is a decision I have the right to make. Too tired, too done with everything. Even when I am doing things with people I never really feel there anymore, never feel real, just detached, pretending to be one of them. I am done and it is a sad terrible waste but I'd rather it be a waste in the form of nothing, absence, non-existence, than more of this, the same. And you argue that I should try more things, try other options, and maybe i should, maybe I am a terrible person but fine, whatever, I am done and I don't have whatever energy or will or motivation is required to do that, and I am done and I don't know that I want to spend any of the limited time I've left to trying new things ie. more unpleasant awkward nerve wracking experiences, and I am done, and I am sorry but I am done.
Will try to write here again, more, before. I didn't mean to just abandon this, just stop after so many years. I just needed to get this out, get this written, to not just leave this journal after so many years so haphazardly.
Any DC area fans/folks know or remember Monika. I don't recall her last name, just that she spelled her first with a k. Sounds like she could use some local NON-POLICE NON-STATE assistance.
Originally posted by
shinygobonkers
at postWow. I haven't written in here since the start of 2015. Didn't realize its been that long.Still alive, but...not for long, I don't think.
Don't want to be melodramatic. Maybe will write more, before. But I am just...done with things. Done with the mindless sitting around by myself day after day doing nothing, being useless, done with the constant crazy in my head. Apparently I need two, possibly three teeth extracted including one, possibly two molars (plus wisdom teeth too) and the idea of having no teeth, not being able to chew properly, nope, not dealing with it. Just...no. I am done.
It's been long enough. Other people will disagree, will argue, will be terribly hurt, and I truly am sorry about that, but ultimately it is my life, my choice, my right to decide to end it. It is not a sudden decision. I have felt this way on some level, thought about and wanted to do so to some degree or another since my very first entry here. So many years have passed, many things have changed, but this, this has always remained.
There's a kind of calm certainty about it now. Not a question of what I want, not feeling torn, not struggling simply...certainty. A question of when, and where, and not if. The answer to which will remain in my head because I've already spoken more about this than I should have. Nothing immediate. Promised mother I'd come visit next week, want to hang out with tamea while I'm in new york, walk around the city at least once more even if it is freezing cold. Put my things in order, maybe finish reading a book or two.
I was watching age of ultron trailers the other day and felt kind of bummed its not coming out until may. Too far away that, too long to wait. It looks like a cool movie. D already bought plane tickets for a family thing in april and feel bad to make that a waste of money, but even if i could pop enough painkillers to ignore teeth extraction issue that long, don't know that I could deal life for that much longer either. Days like this...nothing terrible happened, nothing dramatic, just another day of doign nothing and knowing i should do something and nope, nothing and it just...reinforces it.
It feels terrible when someone is begging you not to kill yourself (because you should have kept your mouth shut, but you didn't) but the alternative, this, day after day even longer as everything gets worse and worse....I've reached my limit, passed it. Maybe I'll agree to 'try something else' and maybe I won't, because I do hate seeing people upset on account of me, but it really is just a question of when, where, and what I would like to get done before then.
I hate and deeply do regret hurting people who care about me, but this is a decision I have the right to make. Too tired, too done with everything. Even when I am doing things with people I never really feel there anymore, never feel real, just detached, pretending to be one of them. I am done and it is a sad terrible waste but I'd rather it be a waste in the form of nothing, absence, non-existence, than more of this, the same. And you argue that I should try more things, try other options, and maybe i should, maybe I am a terrible person but fine, whatever, I am done and I don't have whatever energy or will or motivation is required to do that, and I am done and I don't know that I want to spend any of the limited time I've left to trying new things ie. more unpleasant awkward nerve wracking experiences, and I am done, and I am sorry but I am done.
Will try to write here again, more, before. I didn't mean to just abandon this, just stop after so many years. I just needed to get this out, get this written, to not just leave this journal after so many years so haphazardly.
February 13, 2015
Friday Quick Notes
One day there will be real content here again, but between work (see yesterday's post) and deadlines and Fully Babyism, that may not be for a while. Hot takes are on Twitter: @nmamatas
Anyway, I was pleasantly surprised to wake up the other day and find an audiobook of Haunted Legends live on Audible.com. Eleven hours! Back in 2012 I remember saying "Sure, let's try to sell audio rights" and then thought nothing of it. So, happy news.
In other happy news:
Here's my contributor copy of Shadows Over Main Street, which includes my story “Χταπόδι Σαλάτα.” Check it out!
Anyway, I was pleasantly surprised to wake up the other day and find an audiobook of Haunted Legends live on Audible.com. Eleven hours! Back in 2012 I remember saying "Sure, let's try to sell audio rights" and then thought nothing of it. So, happy news.
In other happy news:
Here's my contributor copy of Shadows Over Main Street, which includes my story “Χταπόδι Σαλάτα.” Check it out!
February 12, 2015
"The Street of Fruiting Bodies" from PHANTASM JAPAN being developed into a feature film.
I started pitching this in June and we got to work in earnest on the project in September, so I'm thrilled to finally be able to go public.
VIZ PRODUCTIONS DEVELOPING FEATURE FILM BASED ON AUTHOR SAYURI UEDA’S SHORT STORY THE STREET OF FRUITING BODIES
BATMAN Screenwriter Sam Hamm To Develop Script About An Infestation Of Deadly Hallucinogenic Spores
San Francisco, CA, Date 2/12/15 – VIZ Media, LLC (VIZ Media), the largest distributor and licensor of manga and anime in North America, has announced that its Los Angeles-based film development division, VIZ Productions, is developing the haunting short story, “The Street of Fruiting Bodies,” by famed Japanese author Sayuri Ueda into a feature film, and has retained Batman screenwriter Sam Hamm to write the adaptation.
“The Street of Fruiting Bodies” depicts the sudden spread of a mysterious and lethal species of hallucinogenic mushroom. The infestation is deadly, but it also offers visions of deceased loved ones to the infected, hinting at the reality of an afterlife, or at least a new kind of existence that is beyond human comprehension. Ueda’s story appeared in the anthology, PHANTASM JAPAN, which collects works by several bestselling authors from both the United States and Japan and was published in English in 2014 by VIZ Media’s Haikasoru literary imprint.
Jason Hoffs, Head of Production at VIZ Productions, says the story is well suited for feature film adaptation. “Sayuri Ueda turns the ‘killer virus’ concept on its head with an agent that strikes at our emotions rather than our bodies. We hope to marry the pace of a riveting popcorn movie with a compelling meditation on life-after-death, love and memory, and God."
Screenwriter Sam Hamm is best known for his script for the 1989 Tim Burton film, Batman, and also adapted short fiction for Showtime’s Masters of Horror series. He says of the new project, “Ueda creates a world in which the most profound human emotions – love, grief, longing, and hope – can lead to one's salvation or one's undoing, and the true horror is that it may be impossible to tell the difference. ‘The Street of Fruiting Bodies’ is not only disturbing, it is moving.”
VIZ Productions coordinates the licensing of Japanese entertainment media (manga, books and film) to North American-based film studios. The company’s most recent project was 2014’s sci-fi action feature, Edge of Tomorrow, which was co-produced by Warner Bros. and Village Roadshow Pictures and starred Tom Cruise, Emily Blunt and Bill Paxton. The film was based on the novel, ALL YOU NEED IS KILL, written by Hiroshi Sakurazaka and available in English from VIZ Media’s Haikasoru imprint. VIZ Productions is also currently developing a feature film adaptation of the hit manga property DEATH NOTE.
VIZ PRODUCTIONS DEVELOPING FEATURE FILM BASED ON AUTHOR SAYURI UEDA’S SHORT STORY THE STREET OF FRUITING BODIES
BATMAN Screenwriter Sam Hamm To Develop Script About An Infestation Of Deadly Hallucinogenic Spores
San Francisco, CA, Date 2/12/15 – VIZ Media, LLC (VIZ Media), the largest distributor and licensor of manga and anime in North America, has announced that its Los Angeles-based film development division, VIZ Productions, is developing the haunting short story, “The Street of Fruiting Bodies,” by famed Japanese author Sayuri Ueda into a feature film, and has retained Batman screenwriter Sam Hamm to write the adaptation.
“The Street of Fruiting Bodies” depicts the sudden spread of a mysterious and lethal species of hallucinogenic mushroom. The infestation is deadly, but it also offers visions of deceased loved ones to the infected, hinting at the reality of an afterlife, or at least a new kind of existence that is beyond human comprehension. Ueda’s story appeared in the anthology, PHANTASM JAPAN, which collects works by several bestselling authors from both the United States and Japan and was published in English in 2014 by VIZ Media’s Haikasoru literary imprint.
Jason Hoffs, Head of Production at VIZ Productions, says the story is well suited for feature film adaptation. “Sayuri Ueda turns the ‘killer virus’ concept on its head with an agent that strikes at our emotions rather than our bodies. We hope to marry the pace of a riveting popcorn movie with a compelling meditation on life-after-death, love and memory, and God."
Screenwriter Sam Hamm is best known for his script for the 1989 Tim Burton film, Batman, and also adapted short fiction for Showtime’s Masters of Horror series. He says of the new project, “Ueda creates a world in which the most profound human emotions – love, grief, longing, and hope – can lead to one's salvation or one's undoing, and the true horror is that it may be impossible to tell the difference. ‘The Street of Fruiting Bodies’ is not only disturbing, it is moving.”
VIZ Productions coordinates the licensing of Japanese entertainment media (manga, books and film) to North American-based film studios. The company’s most recent project was 2014’s sci-fi action feature, Edge of Tomorrow, which was co-produced by Warner Bros. and Village Roadshow Pictures and starred Tom Cruise, Emily Blunt and Bill Paxton. The film was based on the novel, ALL YOU NEED IS KILL, written by Hiroshi Sakurazaka and available in English from VIZ Media’s Haikasoru imprint. VIZ Productions is also currently developing a feature film adaptation of the hit manga property DEATH NOTE.
February 9, 2015
Where are my huh
I signed up to push hands in Berkeley's Chinese Martial Arts tournament. The rules have been slightly improved. While the first round of each match is stupid "restricted step" push hands—imagine fencing without sword—the second round is "moving step"—imagine sumo without the belt or obesity. To prepare, I'm trying to get to the top of the 145-175 lbs weight class, and have started intermittent fasting. Basically, I only eat between the hours of noon and eight, which is working so far since I am otherwise an inveterate midnight snacker and something something metabolism blood sugar indexing. However, I've been misplacing my keys and phone constantly.
In other news, I received contributor copies of Letters to Lovecraft, and Oliver has become sufficiently interested in the phone that it is very difficult to get him to pose for a picture; he keeps running to my side to see what's on the screen. But here he is, messing with the books:
My story is "The Semi-Finished Basement", which is about my pet peeve: the claim that "Everything happens for a reason." And now, a newspaper blogger agrees that thinking that life is fair makes you a terrible person.
If you're local to the Bay, you can now buy copies of The Nickronomicon at Diesel: A Bookstore in Oakland. On the shelves, baby! I hope this makes up for the loss of Borderlands Books, at least insofar as this title is concerned.
In yet other news, I'm teaching at LitReactor.com again in the spring: The Architecture of Fiction begins on April 23rd.
Finally, I'm very sad to report the sudden death of Melanie Tem of cancer.
In other news, I received contributor copies of Letters to Lovecraft, and Oliver has become sufficiently interested in the phone that it is very difficult to get him to pose for a picture; he keeps running to my side to see what's on the screen. But here he is, messing with the books:
My story is "The Semi-Finished Basement", which is about my pet peeve: the claim that "Everything happens for a reason." And now, a newspaper blogger agrees that thinking that life is fair makes you a terrible person.
If you're local to the Bay, you can now buy copies of The Nickronomicon at Diesel: A Bookstore in Oakland. On the shelves, baby! I hope this makes up for the loss of Borderlands Books, at least insofar as this title is concerned.
In yet other news, I'm teaching at LitReactor.com again in the spring: The Architecture of Fiction begins on April 23rd.
Finally, I'm very sad to report the sudden death of Melanie Tem of cancer.
February 3, 2015
The Nickronomicon-avoiding Amazon
Like many, I am suspicious of the claim that Borderlands Books was killed by San Francisco's new minimum wage law, especially given that the bookstore's profit was all of $3000 last year. That's one trip and fall or roof leak or bad Christmas season away from closing down anyway. But amazon's discounts and ubiquity—and its ability to run sweatshops in the US and to do an end-run around German laws by recruiting neo-Nazi security for their warehouses—undoubtedly did a number on Borderlands.
Of course, the overwhelming majority of the copies we've sold of The Nickronomicon have come via amazon, specifically Kindle. This is not unusual in print-on-demand land, where bookstore orders are virtually nil. (Borderlands was pretty much the only brick and mortar bookstore in the US carrying it, and they just got a few copies, which sold right away thanks to you guys calling in.)
So here's just a list of places other than amazon (and now Borderlands) where you can get a copy:
directly from the publisher, with its handy Paypal button. And you also get a chance to support small business—publishers usually surrender anywhere from 30 to 55% of the cover price to distributors and bookstores. Buy my book direct, then Innsmouth Free Press gets to live to publish again.
Smashwords, which sells an epub file. Epub works on all sorts of e-readers! Epub, yeah!
Powells! The famous Portland, Oregon Powells. I suspect they actually have zero copies but will quickly contact Lightning Source and zip one off for you, which is what Amazon was doing anyway with its own Createspace POD program. (Lots of POD titles double-dip between the two services, mainly because the book often shows as out of stock or delayed shipping if it doesn't have a Createspace edition. This form of double-dipping is called Plan B.)
BN.com. Your neighborhood Barnes & Noble will not have copies, but BN.com has e-copies for NOOK, and also will run off an LSI copy for you lickety-split. B&N is now the mere 250-pound chimpanzee in the room as compared to Amazon's 800-pound gorilla.
Of course, the overwhelming majority of the copies we've sold of The Nickronomicon have come via amazon, specifically Kindle. This is not unusual in print-on-demand land, where bookstore orders are virtually nil. (Borderlands was pretty much the only brick and mortar bookstore in the US carrying it, and they just got a few copies, which sold right away thanks to you guys calling in.)
So here's just a list of places other than amazon (and now Borderlands) where you can get a copy:
directly from the publisher, with its handy Paypal button. And you also get a chance to support small business—publishers usually surrender anywhere from 30 to 55% of the cover price to distributors and bookstores. Buy my book direct, then Innsmouth Free Press gets to live to publish again.
Smashwords, which sells an epub file. Epub works on all sorts of e-readers! Epub, yeah!
Powells! The famous Portland, Oregon Powells. I suspect they actually have zero copies but will quickly contact Lightning Source and zip one off for you, which is what Amazon was doing anyway with its own Createspace POD program. (Lots of POD titles double-dip between the two services, mainly because the book often shows as out of stock or delayed shipping if it doesn't have a Createspace edition. This form of double-dipping is called Plan B.)
BN.com. Your neighborhood Barnes & Noble will not have copies, but BN.com has e-copies for NOOK, and also will run off an LSI copy for you lickety-split. B&N is now the mere 250-pound chimpanzee in the room as compared to Amazon's 800-pound gorilla.
Old Woman at the Barber Shop
Old Kazzie strained a muscle or something (arthritis?) and spent the early morning standing and walking rather than lying on the couch as she likes to.* She's settled down now. I wasn't feeling too hot myself, so I stayed home to keep an eye on her. I also got a haircut.
At he barber, an old woman hobbled in on a cane. She knew the barber very well, and seems to depend on her. The woman complained that her phone jack stopped working, and that the landlord wouldn't fix it, nor would AT&T. She also wanted the barber to come over later, and bring a supply from groceries. When the barber suggested getting a cellular phone, as she had seen on TV that there are cheap ones for seniors...but the woman said that she couldn't call to get a phone, and the stores were far away. She also couldn't stay for her haircut now because of the long walk back home, and she was sorry she didn't and couldn't make an appointment this morning because of her phone being broken.
I was just settling into the barber chair, so offered her the spot. I was happy to wait and read for another twenty minutes. (Sharp Objects by Gillian Flynn—not great, with occasional brilliant insights, but many coincidences for a crime story.) I also listened in: the woman asked to borrow the barber's phone to call her landlord and offered to pay—apparently it costs her two bucks via landline to call a 925 number from 510, which sounds like a bizarre rip-off. There were many other little issues as well: the barber offered to buy a sturdier cane, but the woman was suspicious. Can a wireless phone be trusted? Oh, she had forgotten her landlord's number and perhaps will come another time to use the phone.
While this was going on, I Googled on my own phone for free cell phones and wrote down the information for the barber. After the old lady left, I got my haircut and the barber told me that the old woman has no family left, and Parkinson's Disease. I showed the barber my little research into free and cheap cell phones—the other good deal is the 30 minute T-Mobile deal for ten bucks—and tipped heavily, and that was pretty much that. The barber will take her own phone over to the old lady's house this evening to make the calls and to drive her over to a store and get her a cheap phone.
*One would think Cushing's Disease, but she lacks most symptoms and had a urine test just over a month ago that showed up clean. She did a lot of running around on Sunday though, so I suspect she just strained something.
At he barber, an old woman hobbled in on a cane. She knew the barber very well, and seems to depend on her. The woman complained that her phone jack stopped working, and that the landlord wouldn't fix it, nor would AT&T. She also wanted the barber to come over later, and bring a supply from groceries. When the barber suggested getting a cellular phone, as she had seen on TV that there are cheap ones for seniors...but the woman said that she couldn't call to get a phone, and the stores were far away. She also couldn't stay for her haircut now because of the long walk back home, and she was sorry she didn't and couldn't make an appointment this morning because of her phone being broken.
I was just settling into the barber chair, so offered her the spot. I was happy to wait and read for another twenty minutes. (Sharp Objects by Gillian Flynn—not great, with occasional brilliant insights, but many coincidences for a crime story.) I also listened in: the woman asked to borrow the barber's phone to call her landlord and offered to pay—apparently it costs her two bucks via landline to call a 925 number from 510, which sounds like a bizarre rip-off. There were many other little issues as well: the barber offered to buy a sturdier cane, but the woman was suspicious. Can a wireless phone be trusted? Oh, she had forgotten her landlord's number and perhaps will come another time to use the phone.
While this was going on, I Googled on my own phone for free cell phones and wrote down the information for the barber. After the old lady left, I got my haircut and the barber told me that the old woman has no family left, and Parkinson's Disease. I showed the barber my little research into free and cheap cell phones—the other good deal is the 30 minute T-Mobile deal for ten bucks—and tipped heavily, and that was pretty much that. The barber will take her own phone over to the old lady's house this evening to make the calls and to drive her over to a store and get her a cheap phone.
*One would think Cushing's Disease, but she lacks most symptoms and had a urine test just over a month ago that showed up clean. She did a lot of running around on Sunday though, so I suspect she just strained something.
February 2, 2015
All sorts of junk!
I sing, uh, read aloud over at CrimeWAV. Check out Thy Shiny Car in the Night, which was originally published in Long Island Noir.
In other city news, Borderlands Books has announced its closure, with somewhat weird reasoning: 2014 was their best year ever; by 2018 the minimum wages will increase by a fair amount, so best to shut down next month because they can't raise prices on their inventory, plus amazon. I suspect without evidence that subjective factors are in play—owner Alan Beatts revealed that his salary last year was $28,000. For a grown-up in San Fran, that has to hurt, especially given all the time he puts into his stores. Literally just poking around Craiglist and helping people move house, or install their air conditioners, would mean more money for less effort.
There is to be a public meeting, and Borderlands is asking for alternatives to closing the store. I look forward to an hour of people suggesting a Kickstarter, and when that idea gets shut down a Patreon and when that idea gets shut down just saying, "Why not ask George R.R. Martin for a million dollars!" and when that gets shut down, saying, "Okay, two million!"
What you probably won't be buying at Borderlands is this September's Year's Best Weird Fiction, Volume 2, a reprint anthology edited by Kathe Koja, with Michael Kelly as series editor. The ToC may...weird you out!
The Atlas of Hell” by Nathan Ballingrud (Fearful Symmetries, ed. Ellen Datlow, ChiZine Publications)
“Wendigo Nights” by Siobhan Carroll (Fearful Symmetries, ed. Ellen Datlow, ChiZine Publications)
“Headache” by Julio Cortázar. English-language translation by Michael Cisco (Tor.com, September 2014)
“Loving Armageddon” by Amanda C. Davis (Crossed Genres Magazine #19, July 2014)
“The Earth and Everything Under” by K.M. Ferebee (Shimmer Magazine #19, May 2014)
“Nanny Anne and the Christmas Story” by Karen Joy Fowler (Subterranean Press Magazine, Winter 2014)
“The Girls Who Go Below” by Cat Hellisen (The Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction, July/August 2014)
“Nine” by Kima Jones (Long Hidden: Speculative Fiction From the Margins of History, eds. Rose Fox & Daniel José Older, Crossed Genres Publications)
“Bus Fare” by Caitlín R. Kiernan (Subterranean Press Magazine, Spring 2014)
“The Air We Breathe Is Stormy, Stormy” by Rich Larson (Strange Horizons Magazine, August 2014)
“The Husband Stitch” by Carmen Maria Machado (Granta Magazine, October 2014)
“Observations About Eggs From the Man Sitting Next to Me on a Flight from Chicago, Illinois to Cedar Rapids, Iowa” by Carmen Maria Machado (Lightspeed Magazine #47, April 2014)
“Resurrection Points” by Usman T. Usman T. Malik (Strange Horizons Magazine, August 2014)
“Exit Through the Gift Shop” by Nick Mamatas (Searchers After Horror: New Tales of the Weird and Fantastic, ed. S.T. Joshi, Fedogan & Bremer) (Hey, it's me!)
“So Sharp That Blood Must Flow” by Sunny Moraine (Lightspeed Magazine #45, February 2014)
"The Ghoul" by Jean Muno, translated by Edward Gauvin (Weirdfictionreview.com, June 2014)
“A Stretch of Highway Two Lanes Wide” by Sarah Pinsker (The Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction, March/April 2014)
“Migration” by Karin Tidbeck (Fearsome Magics: The New Solaris Book of Fantasy, ed. Jonathan Strahan, Solaris)
“Hidden in the Alphabet” by Charles Wilkinson (Shadows & Tall Trees 2014, ed. Michael Kelly, Undertow Publications)
“A Cup of Salt Tears” by Isabel Yap (Tor.com, August 2014)
Searchers After Horror also paid out a little royalty check last week as well, which is nice. I really liked "Exit Through the Gift Shop" and sometimes a story can feel buried in an anthology, but this tale is getting a second life, and its first life was popular enough for a pay-out. Tiny little yays, I suppose.
In other city news, Borderlands Books has announced its closure, with somewhat weird reasoning: 2014 was their best year ever; by 2018 the minimum wages will increase by a fair amount, so best to shut down next month because they can't raise prices on their inventory, plus amazon. I suspect without evidence that subjective factors are in play—owner Alan Beatts revealed that his salary last year was $28,000. For a grown-up in San Fran, that has to hurt, especially given all the time he puts into his stores. Literally just poking around Craiglist and helping people move house, or install their air conditioners, would mean more money for less effort.
There is to be a public meeting, and Borderlands is asking for alternatives to closing the store. I look forward to an hour of people suggesting a Kickstarter, and when that idea gets shut down a Patreon and when that idea gets shut down just saying, "Why not ask George R.R. Martin for a million dollars!" and when that gets shut down, saying, "Okay, two million!"
What you probably won't be buying at Borderlands is this September's Year's Best Weird Fiction, Volume 2, a reprint anthology edited by Kathe Koja, with Michael Kelly as series editor. The ToC may...weird you out!
The Atlas of Hell” by Nathan Ballingrud (Fearful Symmetries, ed. Ellen Datlow, ChiZine Publications)
“Wendigo Nights” by Siobhan Carroll (Fearful Symmetries, ed. Ellen Datlow, ChiZine Publications)
“Headache” by Julio Cortázar. English-language translation by Michael Cisco (Tor.com, September 2014)
“Loving Armageddon” by Amanda C. Davis (Crossed Genres Magazine #19, July 2014)
“The Earth and Everything Under” by K.M. Ferebee (Shimmer Magazine #19, May 2014)
“Nanny Anne and the Christmas Story” by Karen Joy Fowler (Subterranean Press Magazine, Winter 2014)
“The Girls Who Go Below” by Cat Hellisen (The Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction, July/August 2014)
“Nine” by Kima Jones (Long Hidden: Speculative Fiction From the Margins of History, eds. Rose Fox & Daniel José Older, Crossed Genres Publications)
“Bus Fare” by Caitlín R. Kiernan (Subterranean Press Magazine, Spring 2014)
“The Air We Breathe Is Stormy, Stormy” by Rich Larson (Strange Horizons Magazine, August 2014)
“The Husband Stitch” by Carmen Maria Machado (Granta Magazine, October 2014)
“Observations About Eggs From the Man Sitting Next to Me on a Flight from Chicago, Illinois to Cedar Rapids, Iowa” by Carmen Maria Machado (Lightspeed Magazine #47, April 2014)
“Resurrection Points” by Usman T. Usman T. Malik (Strange Horizons Magazine, August 2014)
“Exit Through the Gift Shop” by Nick Mamatas (Searchers After Horror: New Tales of the Weird and Fantastic, ed. S.T. Joshi, Fedogan & Bremer) (Hey, it's me!)
“So Sharp That Blood Must Flow” by Sunny Moraine (Lightspeed Magazine #45, February 2014)
"The Ghoul" by Jean Muno, translated by Edward Gauvin (Weirdfictionreview.com, June 2014)
“A Stretch of Highway Two Lanes Wide” by Sarah Pinsker (The Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction, March/April 2014)
“Migration” by Karin Tidbeck (Fearsome Magics: The New Solaris Book of Fantasy, ed. Jonathan Strahan, Solaris)
“Hidden in the Alphabet” by Charles Wilkinson (Shadows & Tall Trees 2014, ed. Michael Kelly, Undertow Publications)
“A Cup of Salt Tears” by Isabel Yap (Tor.com, August 2014)
Searchers After Horror also paid out a little royalty check last week as well, which is nice. I really liked "Exit Through the Gift Shop" and sometimes a story can feel buried in an anthology, but this tale is getting a second life, and its first life was popular enough for a pay-out. Tiny little yays, I suppose.
January 30, 2015
Main Street Horrors
Racism in Berkeley?? Wwwwhhhaaat! No surprises, really, but comedian W. Kamau Bell was accosted by wait staff at Elmwood Café on suspicion of Speaking To a White Lady and blogged about it. Also not surprisingly, Elmwood Café is better at baked goods than social media and deleted early Facebook responses. Naturally, some people are wondering why Bell would see what happened as a sign of racism. Well, I go to Elmwood Café a lot, and not only so I dress like a homeless slob, there is often a (white) man selling a homeless paper on the corner, and a Latina woman selling some bullshit crafts out of a shopping wagon, and all sorts of other stuff. There are generally speaking zero confrontations between café and street since it's not worth it for the staff: most of them are poorly paid students who don't want their heads bounced off the pavement on the rare occasion of an actual belligerent showing up. There are also almost no black people on tony College Ave—nearby Telegraph is the main drag for proles, the "politically" homeless, PoC, etc. So for not one but two to decide that Bell is a street peddler who most be stopped has to be the result of a management directive to clear out the riff-raff.
Bell isn't calling for anyone to boycott the joint, or for anyone to be fired, which is good. He's still a Famous TV Person, and whoever shouted at him to "Git!" is likely still a minimum-wage fuckleberry. On the other hand, I did get a waffle iron for Christmas, so it's not like I need Elmwood Café anymore.
In other main street horror news, today is the release day for Shadows Over Main Street, a new Lovecraftian anthology of small-town horrors. I wrote a bit about my piece,“Χταπόδι Σαλάτα.” here. Check it out, here's the full table of contents.
Bell isn't calling for anyone to boycott the joint, or for anyone to be fired, which is good. He's still a Famous TV Person, and whoever shouted at him to "Git!" is likely still a minimum-wage fuckleberry. On the other hand, I did get a waffle iron for Christmas, so it's not like I need Elmwood Café anymore.
In other main street horror news, today is the release day for Shadows Over Main Street, a new Lovecraftian anthology of small-town horrors. I wrote a bit about my piece,“Χταπόδι Σαλάτα.” here. Check it out, here's the full table of contents.
Nick Mamatas's Blog
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