Nick Mamatas's Blog, page 52
July 3, 2013
Wednesday Quick Links
Over at SFSignal, I discuss the "successors to Orwell" along with several other writers, editors, and tummlers. A topic which keeps getting more timely given that the US just stopped and frisked the president of Bolivia in order to find Immanuel Goldstein . In brighter news, the war against Eastasia is going well, despite it being full of militants and the news media full of vulgar sentences such as A local militant source said that the militants who were killed were from the Haqqani network, a militant group that is responsible for orchestrating and executing attacks against American and Afghan forces across the border in Afghanistan and is believed to be active in the region.
Meanwhile, a very minor anomaly has emerged. A year or so after everyone swore that the Muslim Brotherhood would rule Egypt with ease,the largest protest of any sort in human history, with as many participants as the entire population of Canada a small conspiracy of military leaders has taken shape. Eh, some people will do anything to get their pictures in the papers, I guess.
Meanwhile, a very minor anomaly has emerged. A year or so after everyone swore that the Muslim Brotherhood would rule Egypt with ease,
July 2, 2013
Gaiman excerpt, a four-word review
Neil Gaiman is now big enough to make the cover of Poets and Writers, see?
(Blew up a thumbnail.)
This is important because P&W rarely deals with genre fiction. I squeezed in a profile of Kelly Link and Gavin Grant some years ago, but other than that, it's rare and always along the lines of a literary fiction writer dabbling with fantastical or crime elements. Anyway, that's a big deal. Also, in addition to the brief seven-question interview, there is an excerpt from Gaiman's new book The Ocean at the End of the Lane. Now we can really see some literary chops, and well-observed character observations from a genre writer, right? The excerpt comes along with a finger-wagging warning from HarperCollins, but surely the first and last lines of the excerpt will count as fair use:
Nobody came to my seventh birthday party.
[Some stuff about cake and mother and a Batman doll and a boxed set of Narnia books, which junior retires to his bedroom to read.]
I liked that. Books were safer than other people anyway.
Oh FUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK YOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOU! Pander much?
(Blew up a thumbnail.)
This is important because P&W rarely deals with genre fiction. I squeezed in a profile of Kelly Link and Gavin Grant some years ago, but other than that, it's rare and always along the lines of a literary fiction writer dabbling with fantastical or crime elements. Anyway, that's a big deal. Also, in addition to the brief seven-question interview, there is an excerpt from Gaiman's new book The Ocean at the End of the Lane. Now we can really see some literary chops, and well-observed character observations from a genre writer, right? The excerpt comes along with a finger-wagging warning from HarperCollins, but surely the first and last lines of the excerpt will count as fair use:
Nobody came to my seventh birthday party.
[Some stuff about cake and mother and a Batman doll and a boxed set of Narnia books, which junior retires to his bedroom to read.]
I liked that. Books were safer than other people anyway.
Oh FUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK YOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOU! Pander much?
Locals: BART strike
Demand that the BART board of directors go back to the negotiating table: (510) 464-6095.
I will not be hosting a discussion of strikes or unions on this blog. If you want to whine that you don't have a pension (but you do have Social Security, btw) and that you think you should be the one making $60,000 or whatever, then maybe you shouldn't have majored in Bullshit Studies.
I will not be hosting a discussion of strikes or unions on this blog. If you want to whine that you don't have a pension (but you do have Social Security, btw) and that you think you should be the one making $60,000 or whatever, then maybe you shouldn't have majored in Bullshit Studies.
Matt Borne
I missed the news while I was away—Matt Borne has died. Borne was a minor wrestler who managed to turn one of the dumber gimmicks into an icon of an era. You see, Matt Borne was the original Doink the Clown.
Everyone hates clowns, of course. And Doink was a little frightening and weird as well. Despite being a kiddy gimmick, as the match embedded above shows, Borne could go. Indeed, I didn't even remember how technical he was—or how announcers actually used to know the names of holds!
Doink got pretty nuts after a while. There were multiple Doinks, and a little person version called Dink, plus Wink and Pink. Matt Borne was already gone—the thing about mask and make-up is that it can be anybody under the facepaint. It was all rather embarrassing, despite Borne's original uncanny performances. Sad he's gone though, and given his age and how his body is found, I'm sure we'll be hearing about another wrestling tragedy.
Everyone hates clowns, of course. And Doink was a little frightening and weird as well. Despite being a kiddy gimmick, as the match embedded above shows, Borne could go. Indeed, I didn't even remember how technical he was—or how announcers actually used to know the names of holds!
Doink got pretty nuts after a while. There were multiple Doinks, and a little person version called Dink, plus Wink and Pink. Matt Borne was already gone—the thing about mask and make-up is that it can be anybody under the facepaint. It was all rather embarrassing, despite Borne's original uncanny performances. Sad he's gone though, and given his age and how his body is found, I'm sure we'll be hearing about another wrestling tragedy.
July 1, 2013
This is the End
When watching This is the End the other day, I just kept thinking. o O (I wonder what http://www.capalert.com thinks of this movie.) Sadly, ol' CAPpy's ministry is inactive at the moment, but surely his mind would have exploded. Forget the drugs and violence and demon cocks—we have people being saved by works rather than faith, individuals ascending bodily after the Rapture and during the Tribulations, and of course all the mass media is down and the water system is broken, but homes still have working lamps and gas stoves. Huh? Well, scenes are hard to light without practicals, I guess.
In This is the End, the actors James Franco, Seth Rogen, Emma Watson, Jay Baruchel etc. play themselves. There are lots of cameos too—Franco is having a party to show off his new fancy open-floorplan (good for shooting movies in!) house. Jay is snobby and artsy—like in real life??—and doesn't like LA, but everyone else loves the LA lifestyle. Michael Cera gets his cock sucked and his asshole licked at once in the bathroom during the party. There's drugs and excess and craziness, and like the old-timey radio preachers have been predicting, God is Officially Tired of This Shit. So the rapture is on, and the actors of course are Left Behind. And they're aaalll soft as baby shit, incapable of carrying out even basic survival strategies.
The movie is hilarious! Of course, there is lots of slapstick, situational comedy, scatology, and the like, and there's some subtle stuff too. Craig Robinson, we're told, sweats a lot, but we're only told this twice (screenplays usually like to mention things half a dozen times, for slow people) and the only joke based on it is that he carries around a towel at all times monographed "Mr. Robinson." Nobody makes an All Jews Go to Heaven joke. Most everyone had great comic timing. Even obvious lines like Danny McBride's "James Franco didn't suck any dick last night? Now I know you are all trippin'" work.
There are also great set-pieces, the best of which is the trailer to the sequel to Pineapple Express the fellows make, elements of which SONY Pictures has put online:
But like pretty much any movie involving Seth Rogen, it's too long. Do we need a "do all the drugs in the house" montage, and a Franco/McBride ejaculate argument, and two attempts to get to the water first in the basement and then next door, and the exorcism of Jonah Hill, and and and...some of them could have been cut.
(This one I think, but Olivia liked it.)
We saw this movie in Seattle, during the Locus Awards Weekend. Olivia was a sport and sat through a number of writerly chats at the bar. She said later that listening to writers talk to one another isn't all that interesting. Writers, she said, leave a lot of themselves on the page so when they're together they tend to chat about rejections and agents and whatnot. More interesting topics they save for something else. Who knows if this is so—I suspect it is, honestly—but I felt the same way about This is the End. The movie's an attempt to be critical of momentary Hollywood hotness, of friendships between actors, and of the dopey (in more way than one) lifestyle in which the likes of Jay Baruchel can show that he's deep and artistic by spending more time in New York than in LA. And of course there are limits to the critique; the film ends with a round robin of self-sacrificing behaviors, some more successful and some less, and it feels a little like the dusty old sitcom conceit of people saving one another's lives to get out of certain obligations. But the friendships of these actor-characters shine through, and conflicts (whether true or just inspired by truth) do too—so it's better than just two hours of screaming and running. Not bad for a movie that makes enormous demon dicks a recurring visual joke.
Check it out.
In This is the End, the actors James Franco, Seth Rogen, Emma Watson, Jay Baruchel etc. play themselves. There are lots of cameos too—Franco is having a party to show off his new fancy open-floorplan (good for shooting movies in!) house. Jay is snobby and artsy—like in real life??—and doesn't like LA, but everyone else loves the LA lifestyle. Michael Cera gets his cock sucked and his asshole licked at once in the bathroom during the party. There's drugs and excess and craziness, and like the old-timey radio preachers have been predicting, God is Officially Tired of This Shit. So the rapture is on, and the actors of course are Left Behind. And they're aaalll soft as baby shit, incapable of carrying out even basic survival strategies.
The movie is hilarious! Of course, there is lots of slapstick, situational comedy, scatology, and the like, and there's some subtle stuff too. Craig Robinson, we're told, sweats a lot, but we're only told this twice (screenplays usually like to mention things half a dozen times, for slow people) and the only joke based on it is that he carries around a towel at all times monographed "Mr. Robinson." Nobody makes an All Jews Go to Heaven joke. Most everyone had great comic timing. Even obvious lines like Danny McBride's "James Franco didn't suck any dick last night? Now I know you are all trippin'" work.
There are also great set-pieces, the best of which is the trailer to the sequel to Pineapple Express the fellows make, elements of which SONY Pictures has put online:
But like pretty much any movie involving Seth Rogen, it's too long. Do we need a "do all the drugs in the house" montage, and a Franco/McBride ejaculate argument, and two attempts to get to the water first in the basement and then next door, and the exorcism of Jonah Hill, and and and...some of them could have been cut.
(This one I think, but Olivia liked it.)
We saw this movie in Seattle, during the Locus Awards Weekend. Olivia was a sport and sat through a number of writerly chats at the bar. She said later that listening to writers talk to one another isn't all that interesting. Writers, she said, leave a lot of themselves on the page so when they're together they tend to chat about rejections and agents and whatnot. More interesting topics they save for something else. Who knows if this is so—I suspect it is, honestly—but I felt the same way about This is the End. The movie's an attempt to be critical of momentary Hollywood hotness, of friendships between actors, and of the dopey (in more way than one) lifestyle in which the likes of Jay Baruchel can show that he's deep and artistic by spending more time in New York than in LA. And of course there are limits to the critique; the film ends with a round robin of self-sacrificing behaviors, some more successful and some less, and it feels a little like the dusty old sitcom conceit of people saving one another's lives to get out of certain obligations. But the friendships of these actor-characters shine through, and conflicts (whether true or just inspired by truth) do too—so it's better than just two hours of screaming and running. Not bad for a movie that makes enormous demon dicks a recurring visual joke.
Check it out.
June 30, 2013
Locus Awards
The Future is Japanese did not win a Locus Award, nor did Ken Liu's story from it, "Mono No Aware." Nevertheless, a good time was had by all. Congratulations to all the winners.
It was very hot in Seattle—hot enough that lots of people seemed fairly addled. Hot enough that I asked 
ktsparrow if people from Seattle weren't a bit dim. First we were told that there was a shuttle from the airport to the hotel, only to find out at the airport that there wasn't one. Then we were driven to the wrong Best Western by the taxi despite the fairly clear instruction of "The one closest to the Space Needle." The shadow of the Needle was falling over the parking lot. We checked in, went upstairs with our keys, and went back down because the keys didn't work because in fact we were not checked in. And there were missing drinks at restaurants, people standing in front of movie theater box offices confusedly arguing with one another over whether they needed tickets to enter, bartenders who couldn't keep track of an order of three, Serious Pie made us wait for fifteen minutes for seating for the "brunch menu" even though people streamed in and ordered from the same menu at the counter and sat instantly etc etc.
Oh, and last call at the Best Western was 11:30 on Friday. Normal on Saturday though. Hotel room was very nice for a BW and the location was perfect—right by the Seattle Center.
So, Seattle was cool. We went to the conveniently located Chihuly Garden and Glass museum—see?
Nice stuff, though a museum dedicated to one artist always feels a little egomaniacal. Then Dale did this, then Dale did that... But quite beautiful and odd and extremely well-displayed.
Then we went to Pike Place Market, which managed to be touristy and not annoying all at once. A triumph of the agora, certainly. It was hot, so we took in a film—This Is the End, which I'll review in a day or two—and ate at one of the large number of Greek restaurants in town. Myzithra cheese on pasta, yes! We also had a lovely lunch with the Sparrows and enjoyed an amazing water fountain.
The Locus Awards are like a mini-con, with a few panels, a writing workshop, and an award ceremony. And it's chockful of tedious little rituals that really aren't even remotely amusing. I was unaware that wearing a Hawaiian shirt was taken very seriously, but several people warned me the day before, having wisely realized that I would not be a sport about being called out for not wearing one. My friend Yang-Yang, who quit his job as an analyst for Chevron after taking my Writing Salon class and moved to Seattle to write and to act in local commercials, went to Nordstrom and got me a shirt that qualified but that was far too tasteful to be a finalist for the contest. It went right back to the store afterward. (Yang Yang often uses Nordstrom's liberal returns policy for auditions and such.) So thanks for him! There was a long and extremely unfunny trivia contest—what was funny is that this year the contest was about Hawaii and England, and people were reportedly upset because had they known there would be questions about England they would have studied. They would have studied! The prize is a plastic banana signed by multiple authors. Just bring a banana next year!; people will sign it! (In times past, the prize was an actual banana, which is much funnier.)
There were little parties and talks and such, and I was pleased to chat with people and have fun. Didn't seem to be anyone running around pawing at women's tits either, which might be a recent first in the field.
Today we went to Capital Hill, saw a bit of Pride—and learned that ZipCar and US Bank are apparently a part of the tradition of riot and liberation started by Stonewall—visited the Elliot Bay Bookstore, and the Seattle Public Library, and then came home. It's a great town. Not as hot as the locals insisted it was.
Here's an image from Pride:
And now, I'm home in time for a likely BART strike! Woohoo, no commute tomorrow! SHUT IT ALL DOWN.
June 27, 2013
Thursday Quick Notes and Links
Today I got my money from audible.com, so am reminded to alert you, once again, that Bullettime has an audio book. It also does that thing where you can go back and forth between the audio and the Kindle if you like. Here's also a link for the UK edition of the audio book. I get a dollar if you buy one, by the way.
I'm pleased to get this end of month windfall, as I'll be spending the weekend in Seattle, at the Locus Awards. As you may remember, The Future Is Japanese is up for the award in the anthology category. I'll mostly just be skulking around, I guess. I am especially interested in finally seeing Seattle, however. I've tried twice! First, I was invited to Crypticon, and as it was to be in Seattle, I was eager to attend. Then the convention had to change location to Everett. "Is Everett like Seattle?" I asked. "Sure," they told me. It was sort of like being invited to Manhattan and then spending the weekend in Yonkers. Then I went to another convention in Seattle, back when Harmony by Project Itoh was a Philip K. Dick award nominee. And about halfway through the weekend, someone whispered in my ear, "Actually...you're in Tacoma!" Auuugh. But I have been guaranteed that I'll actually be in Seattle. SEATTLE!!!!
Worth reading: the complaint in the Paula Deen lawsuit.
Have you seen 9.5 These on Art and Class? Get to clicking!
The final batch of Unemployment Stories is up on Gawker. I've been reading the series religiously. The emotion in question is aidos. In 2008, when everyone else's life fell apart, I moved across the country to take an awesome publishing job that flies me places and lets me work on award-winning novels and award-nominated anthologies. I'm out of debt, healthy, married, publishing anywhere between one and five books a year on my own outside of work, and am having a great time generally. How could I not read the series? Perhaps my plane will crash tomorrow.
A sad Indiegogo: Author Jay Lake has been given 3-6 months to live. Before he dies, he's going to take his daughter to New Zealand. We want to make a documentary of their trip. Why not donate a few bucks?
I'm pleased to get this end of month windfall, as I'll be spending the weekend in Seattle, at the Locus Awards. As you may remember, The Future Is Japanese is up for the award in the anthology category. I'll mostly just be skulking around, I guess. I am especially interested in finally seeing Seattle, however. I've tried twice! First, I was invited to Crypticon, and as it was to be in Seattle, I was eager to attend. Then the convention had to change location to Everett. "Is Everett like Seattle?" I asked. "Sure," they told me. It was sort of like being invited to Manhattan and then spending the weekend in Yonkers. Then I went to another convention in Seattle, back when Harmony by Project Itoh was a Philip K. Dick award nominee. And about halfway through the weekend, someone whispered in my ear, "Actually...you're in Tacoma!" Auuugh. But I have been guaranteed that I'll actually be in Seattle. SEATTLE!!!!
Worth reading: the complaint in the Paula Deen lawsuit.
Have you seen 9.5 These on Art and Class? Get to clicking!
The final batch of Unemployment Stories is up on Gawker. I've been reading the series religiously. The emotion in question is aidos. In 2008, when everyone else's life fell apart, I moved across the country to take an awesome publishing job that flies me places and lets me work on award-winning novels and award-nominated anthologies. I'm out of debt, healthy, married, publishing anywhere between one and five books a year on my own outside of work, and am having a great time generally. How could I not read the series? Perhaps my plane will crash tomorrow.
A sad Indiegogo: Author Jay Lake has been given 3-6 months to live. Before he dies, he's going to take his daughter to New Zealand. We want to make a documentary of their trip. Why not donate a few bucks?
June 26, 2013
Diary of a Revolutionist: Day One
Dear Diary,
The unthinkable has occurred. Democracy in my sacred homeland is dead. The will of the people, as expressed both through their representatives and via plebiscite, has been overturned by an unelected cabal of men and women drawn from the ranks of foreign nationals and rootless cosmopolitans. As I once declared, having in my futurist wisdom seen that such a disaster would come to pass—I will act to destroy that government and bring it down—and now I must act. I have already retreated into the wilds beyond my home and community. The Target store is out of my line of sight, and as I penetrate deeper into the countryside, soon too will even the Super Wal-Mart be hidden from me. I will be separated from so-called "civilization", alone for the moment, but soon the People will come to me.
I knew that the United States would come to this years ago. When heterosexuality itself—and homosexualist implications—was weaponized and used against supporters of American Idol contestant Constantine Maroulis, the hand of Heavenly Father reached down and inscribed a warning on the wall. Mene, Mene, Tekel, Upharsin! Constantine and Beau Bice; defenders of traditional marriage and out-of-control liberal fascists. Every fight is out fight. And Lord willing, we shall be victorious.
This war is a holy war. Many will be called, and few will be chosen. I am a moderate Democrat. Other moderate Democrats will surely hear my call. We have dug deep deep roots within society, despite the attempts of the mass media, the state, of B. Hussein Obama himself, and of his lackeys Simon Cowell and Randy Jackson to yank us up by the roots and fill our deep holes. This shall be a focoist revolution—we shall turn the radical chic of Guevara, and his impish smile—against the radicals who have overthrown our government.
(My thinspiration!)
And like radicals, we will place ourselves at the bottom, and do our work in secret, in the dark. Operation: Mineshaft begins today. Fear not, little boys—nobody will ever mock you for having to like little girls again. Young men, come join us in the bush, and let us spend day and night together, grinding against the strictures of this fascist society. No more will people mock traditional marriage, traditional undergarments, or say to me "You're the sci-fi guy named what...? You mean like the invisible fattie from Mork and Mindy? Na-no na-no, nerd!" I'll miss my wife and children, but truly it is for the best that I raise my revolutionary army. Now men must go our own way, and carry out focoist revolutionary activity. Come, let me see your FOCO-face!
(Another former moderate ally! But all I need is twenty minutes alone with him out here in the bush...)
We are right, so we shall one. One, two, many revolutions. One, two, many Provo, Utahs. Fear not, people of the United States, soon we shall save you from the spectacle of gay men dancing with joy in the streets. I am thinking of you especially, young men of our great land. Though I must separate myself from a corrupt society, I will never leave my buddy's buddies behind.
America, I shall avenge you.
Constantine, I love you.
The unthinkable has occurred. Democracy in my sacred homeland is dead. The will of the people, as expressed both through their representatives and via plebiscite, has been overturned by an unelected cabal of men and women drawn from the ranks of foreign nationals and rootless cosmopolitans. As I once declared, having in my futurist wisdom seen that such a disaster would come to pass—I will act to destroy that government and bring it down—and now I must act. I have already retreated into the wilds beyond my home and community. The Target store is out of my line of sight, and as I penetrate deeper into the countryside, soon too will even the Super Wal-Mart be hidden from me. I will be separated from so-called "civilization", alone for the moment, but soon the People will come to me.
I knew that the United States would come to this years ago. When heterosexuality itself—and homosexualist implications—was weaponized and used against supporters of American Idol contestant Constantine Maroulis, the hand of Heavenly Father reached down and inscribed a warning on the wall. Mene, Mene, Tekel, Upharsin! Constantine and Beau Bice; defenders of traditional marriage and out-of-control liberal fascists. Every fight is out fight. And Lord willing, we shall be victorious.
This war is a holy war. Many will be called, and few will be chosen. I am a moderate Democrat. Other moderate Democrats will surely hear my call. We have dug deep deep roots within society, despite the attempts of the mass media, the state, of B. Hussein Obama himself, and of his lackeys Simon Cowell and Randy Jackson to yank us up by the roots and fill our deep holes. This shall be a focoist revolution—we shall turn the radical chic of Guevara, and his impish smile—against the radicals who have overthrown our government.
(My thinspiration!)
And like radicals, we will place ourselves at the bottom, and do our work in secret, in the dark. Operation: Mineshaft begins today. Fear not, little boys—nobody will ever mock you for having to like little girls again. Young men, come join us in the bush, and let us spend day and night together, grinding against the strictures of this fascist society. No more will people mock traditional marriage, traditional undergarments, or say to me "You're the sci-fi guy named what...? You mean like the invisible fattie from Mork and Mindy? Na-no na-no, nerd!" I'll miss my wife and children, but truly it is for the best that I raise my revolutionary army. Now men must go our own way, and carry out focoist revolutionary activity. Come, let me see your FOCO-face!
(Another former moderate ally! But all I need is twenty minutes alone with him out here in the bush...)
We are right, so we shall one. One, two, many revolutions. One, two, many Provo, Utahs. Fear not, people of the United States, soon we shall save you from the spectacle of gay men dancing with joy in the streets. I am thinking of you especially, young men of our great land. Though I must separate myself from a corrupt society, I will never leave my buddy's buddies behind.
America, I shall avenge you.
Constantine, I love you.
June 25, 2013
What do you get the man who has everything?
Well, according to HootSuite, you get him a personal tweeter! Seem in email today:
Hey,
How much time do you spend on your social media content? An hour at the beginning of every day? A few days every week? The 29th day of February?
Planning your content calendar 1-2 months in advance will help increase its quality, save you time & decrease the stress associated with “What should I post today?”.
This email is your golden ticket to access the Custom Content Services Beta. We have partnered with Search Influence, a leader in online marketing and social media, to make professional content creation affordable for SMBs and individuals that want to save time & increase the quality and quantity of their posts.
Save Time - Work directly with a (real human!) editor, saving you over 25 hours a month!
Increase Quality - professional content for Facebook, Twitter, LinkedIn & Google+.
Streamline Workflows - Bulk upload & manage it all from within your HootSuite account!
Your time is valuable. Let Custom Content Services take care of the hard work.
Learn more about packages and sign up today!
Andrew Sorokovsky
Integration Partner Manager | HootSuite
I don't know what I like better. The "Hey," salutation (Hey, FUCK YOU—nice business-letter writing skills.) Or the idea that planning out one's posts and tweets two months in advance might help the quality of one's work. I'm sure you all want to see what I have to say about the death of Richard Matheson* when it comes up on the schedule...on Labor Day weekend.
*I might have more to say later, but I think he was great. Great without actually being good, which is a very powerful combination—that is what makes his work so easily adaptable. Also, he was a metaphysician of sorts, and a few years ago repudiated horror fiction based on an idea similar to the Law of Attraction. It's bad to have bad stuff swimming around in your head. He was an utter giant, though, and there won't ever be another.
Hey,
How much time do you spend on your social media content? An hour at the beginning of every day? A few days every week? The 29th day of February?
Planning your content calendar 1-2 months in advance will help increase its quality, save you time & decrease the stress associated with “What should I post today?”.
This email is your golden ticket to access the Custom Content Services Beta. We have partnered with Search Influence, a leader in online marketing and social media, to make professional content creation affordable for SMBs and individuals that want to save time & increase the quality and quantity of their posts.
Save Time - Work directly with a (real human!) editor, saving you over 25 hours a month!
Increase Quality - professional content for Facebook, Twitter, LinkedIn & Google+.
Streamline Workflows - Bulk upload & manage it all from within your HootSuite account!
Your time is valuable. Let Custom Content Services take care of the hard work.
Learn more about packages and sign up today!
Andrew Sorokovsky
Integration Partner Manager | HootSuite
I don't know what I like better. The "Hey," salutation (Hey, FUCK YOU—nice business-letter writing skills.) Or the idea that planning out one's posts and tweets two months in advance might help the quality of one's work. I'm sure you all want to see what I have to say about the death of Richard Matheson* when it comes up on the schedule...on Labor Day weekend.
*I might have more to say later, but I think he was great. Great without actually being good, which is a very powerful combination—that is what makes his work so easily adaptable. Also, he was a metaphysician of sorts, and a few years ago repudiated horror fiction based on an idea similar to the Law of Attraction. It's bad to have bad stuff swimming around in your head. He was an utter giant, though, and there won't ever be another.
June 22, 2013
"Eureka!" in WHERE THY DARK EYE GLANCES
I got my contributor copy of Where Thy Dark Eye Glances, coming soon from Lethe Press. See?
It includes my story "Eureka!", which continues my obsession with the Poe Cottage in The Bronx. It's also one of the last stories I wrote before I knew I was going to retire. I actually wrote it on Christmas Day—Olivia was away, it was cold and rainy and I was alone with the dog. Then someone on Facebook posted this song, which I used to love but had forgotten about:
It fit perfectly with the motif of New York's early 1990s goth-nerd scene, and hit the lonely holiday spot as well. Good thing my neighbors weren't home, or they would have heard "Welcome Christmas" about thirty-seven times.
The only link for the book up at the moment is amazon's, so here it is. "Eureka!" is one of my favorite stories, and sometimes stories in theme anthologies tend to be buried, so I hope some of you check it out. The full table of contents is here. Oooh, and speaking of 1990s goth-nerds, Phil Brucato of Mage: The Ascension has a piece in it! Now you HAVE to buy a copy!
It includes my story "Eureka!", which continues my obsession with the Poe Cottage in The Bronx. It's also one of the last stories I wrote before I knew I was going to retire. I actually wrote it on Christmas Day—Olivia was away, it was cold and rainy and I was alone with the dog. Then someone on Facebook posted this song, which I used to love but had forgotten about:
It fit perfectly with the motif of New York's early 1990s goth-nerd scene, and hit the lonely holiday spot as well. Good thing my neighbors weren't home, or they would have heard "Welcome Christmas" about thirty-seven times.
The only link for the book up at the moment is amazon's, so here it is. "Eureka!" is one of my favorite stories, and sometimes stories in theme anthologies tend to be buried, so I hope some of you check it out. The full table of contents is here. Oooh, and speaking of 1990s goth-nerds, Phil Brucato of Mage: The Ascension has a piece in it! Now you HAVE to buy a copy!
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