L.M. Pruitt's Blog, page 7
June 15, 2012
Friday--I Give Up On Recaps.
I should have posted this on Wednesday. I should have posted this at any point in the last week, really.
I can't keep doing these recaps. I'm not going to be so dramatic as to say reading and recapping Guilty Pleasures makes me physically ill, but it's pretty damn close. I'm not big on procastinating--I'd love to say it's that stupid Puritanical work ethic but I'm far from a Puritan--but I honestly go out of my way to find something else to do to NOT read the next chapter.
And I put it off. And put it off. And put it off.
Because reading the old Anita Blake books and knowing what the series becomes makes me depressed. Honest, down to the ground, depressed.
I thought--naively, it seems--that I would be able to recap the books in a vacuum. That I would be able to read them and not think about how everything goes wrong. That I would be able to divorce myself from everything I've learned about the writer, her attitude toward her characters and her attitude toward her readers and critics. I can't do any of those things.
Since I can't, I'm not going to continue the recaps. I don't feel like I can give any person reading them an unbiased, objective view. And while I understand that in essence nothing is unbiased, I also know that I can't give a fair, balanced recap.
So I won't. Instead, I'm going to see about devoting Wednesdays to guest posts and author interviews. I'm sorry to anybody who was eagerly looking forward to more chapter breakdowns, but I can recommend an excellant site:
http://satireknight.wikispaces.com/
I can't keep doing these recaps. I'm not going to be so dramatic as to say reading and recapping Guilty Pleasures makes me physically ill, but it's pretty damn close. I'm not big on procastinating--I'd love to say it's that stupid Puritanical work ethic but I'm far from a Puritan--but I honestly go out of my way to find something else to do to NOT read the next chapter.
And I put it off. And put it off. And put it off.
Because reading the old Anita Blake books and knowing what the series becomes makes me depressed. Honest, down to the ground, depressed.
I thought--naively, it seems--that I would be able to recap the books in a vacuum. That I would be able to read them and not think about how everything goes wrong. That I would be able to divorce myself from everything I've learned about the writer, her attitude toward her characters and her attitude toward her readers and critics. I can't do any of those things.
Since I can't, I'm not going to continue the recaps. I don't feel like I can give any person reading them an unbiased, objective view. And while I understand that in essence nothing is unbiased, I also know that I can't give a fair, balanced recap.
So I won't. Instead, I'm going to see about devoting Wednesdays to guest posts and author interviews. I'm sorry to anybody who was eagerly looking forward to more chapter breakdowns, but I can recommend an excellant site:
http://satireknight.wikispaces.com/
June 12, 2012
The Tuesday Buildup: Excerpt Time!
Yes! More drama! I LIVE for it! Not really, but some characters do--take a peek.
“Sorry bout the mud. I did my best to get the boots clean, but sometimes shit just sticks no matter what you do. Beg your pardon on the language, ma’am.” The first man took off a weathered cowboy hat, slicking his hand over his dark brown hair in an effort to make it lay flat. His accent was nowhere I could place, which left a lot of places. In contrast to the faded and worn hat his face was smooth and unlined. Light brown eyes twinkled under a set of bushy brows. “Been a while since I was in the presence of a lady.” “Thank you for having us in your house.” The second man’s accent was softer, more rounded. More educated, or at least it seemed to me. Like his brother, he had dark brown hair and light brown eyes, but there the similarities ended. While the first man was the very image of a die-hard cowboy, the second man put me in the mind of some old-time cattle baron. He even had a bolero that perfectly matched his suit. “I am Wayne Carter. The lout tracking mud on your floors is my brother John.” Wayne Carter crossed the room, extending his hand to me. I took it automatically, charmed in spite of myself when he lifted my hand, brushing a kiss over my knuckles. His lips quirked, the handlebar mustache he wore echoing the movement. “We are pleased to make your acquaintance, Ms. Henries.”
“Uh, thanks.” I tugged my hand free, taking a step back. Theo’s hand closed over my elbow, drawing me further out of Wayne Carter’s reach. I let out a breath I hadn’t been aware of holding. “So. What can we help you with Mr. Carter?”
“Please, call me Wayne. If you address us as Mr. Carter, we’ll spend the evening attempting to discern which of us you’re directing your statement at.” He smiled genially, not bothering to hide his fangs. “It can get very confusing when we’re both in the same room.”
“You’re forgetting your manners, Wayne.” St. Germaine seemed to take extraordinary glee in his words. “And after you worked so hard to rid yourself of the ditch digger image.”
The air in the library dropped at least ten degrees. Wayne stared at the Comte for long moments while everybody in the room capable of holding their breath did so. Finally, Wayne inclined his head slightly, the tension level in the room dropping to a somewhat more comfortable level. “Of course. The formalities must be observed.”
He beckoned his brother forward with a curl of his fingers. John shuffled further into the room, rolling and unrolling the brim of his hat, keeping his head down. Something about the little tick had me changing my assessment of who was more dangerous. I don’t know if I made a sound or if he just sensed my stare, but he glanced up from studying his boots.
His eyes were no longer brown. Only a depthless, pitiless black.
He lowered his lashes again and I remembered to breathe. The bumps—excuse me, Anne and the unnamed child—were kicking up a storm and it was a struggle to hide my discomfort. I tuned back into the conversation just in time to hear Williams acknowledge the Carter Brothers and welcome them back to the city.
“Sorry bout the mud. I did my best to get the boots clean, but sometimes shit just sticks no matter what you do. Beg your pardon on the language, ma’am.” The first man took off a weathered cowboy hat, slicking his hand over his dark brown hair in an effort to make it lay flat. His accent was nowhere I could place, which left a lot of places. In contrast to the faded and worn hat his face was smooth and unlined. Light brown eyes twinkled under a set of bushy brows. “Been a while since I was in the presence of a lady.” “Thank you for having us in your house.” The second man’s accent was softer, more rounded. More educated, or at least it seemed to me. Like his brother, he had dark brown hair and light brown eyes, but there the similarities ended. While the first man was the very image of a die-hard cowboy, the second man put me in the mind of some old-time cattle baron. He even had a bolero that perfectly matched his suit. “I am Wayne Carter. The lout tracking mud on your floors is my brother John.” Wayne Carter crossed the room, extending his hand to me. I took it automatically, charmed in spite of myself when he lifted my hand, brushing a kiss over my knuckles. His lips quirked, the handlebar mustache he wore echoing the movement. “We are pleased to make your acquaintance, Ms. Henries.”
“Uh, thanks.” I tugged my hand free, taking a step back. Theo’s hand closed over my elbow, drawing me further out of Wayne Carter’s reach. I let out a breath I hadn’t been aware of holding. “So. What can we help you with Mr. Carter?”
“Please, call me Wayne. If you address us as Mr. Carter, we’ll spend the evening attempting to discern which of us you’re directing your statement at.” He smiled genially, not bothering to hide his fangs. “It can get very confusing when we’re both in the same room.”
“You’re forgetting your manners, Wayne.” St. Germaine seemed to take extraordinary glee in his words. “And after you worked so hard to rid yourself of the ditch digger image.”
The air in the library dropped at least ten degrees. Wayne stared at the Comte for long moments while everybody in the room capable of holding their breath did so. Finally, Wayne inclined his head slightly, the tension level in the room dropping to a somewhat more comfortable level. “Of course. The formalities must be observed.”
He beckoned his brother forward with a curl of his fingers. John shuffled further into the room, rolling and unrolling the brim of his hat, keeping his head down. Something about the little tick had me changing my assessment of who was more dangerous. I don’t know if I made a sound or if he just sensed my stare, but he glanced up from studying his boots.
His eyes were no longer brown. Only a depthless, pitiless black.
He lowered his lashes again and I remembered to breathe. The bumps—excuse me, Anne and the unnamed child—were kicking up a storm and it was a struggle to hide my discomfort. I tuned back into the conversation just in time to hear Williams acknowledge the Carter Brothers and welcome them back to the city.
June 11, 2012
Media Monday: So. Much. Stuff!
Holy crap! I don't blog for two weeks and the entire media wolrd expodes in a frenzy! Okay, massive exaggeration, but you get the point.
First things first, who was excited about the season premeire of True Blood last night? Oh yeah, baby--that's how you kickstart a season! Seriously, I can't remember the last time I watched an hour of television from start to finish without once looking at a clock. There have been some who have said that the show is suffering from an overabundunce of story lines--I disagree. The series may center around Sookie, but what the writers have remembers is that no person lives in a vacuum. We all have connections which have connections which have further connections--like some crazy kind of spiderweb. Besides, if the writers didn't bring in outside characters we wouldn't have gotten this amazing quote from Pan:
I am wearing a Wal-Mart sweatshirt for ya'll--if that's not demonstration of team spirit than I don't know what is.
Next, there have been the release of movies such as Snow White and the Huntsman and Prometheus. I haven't seen the latter, but I have seen the former and was pleasantly surprised. It was wonderfully atmospheric and I feel like it did a great job of showing the dark side of a fairy tale. Being a sappy sap, I would have been happy for Snow White to find out that it was the Huntsmen who woke her from the sleep of death and for them to get their happily ever after, but I also realize it would have been kind of a cop-out. Still, there's always a hope they'll do a sequel and they'll get their happily ever after then. Who knows. Prometheus is on my list of movies to watch, which is interesting since the first time I saw the trailer I shook my head and went, "Uh, no." funny how seeing the trailer like a dozen times can change your mind.
Mira Grant's Blackout was the amazing thrill ride I hoped it would be. I laughed, I cried, I went, "Holy shit!"--basically, I experienced almost the entire range of human emotions. Not love or lust, because that would have been a little creepy, but those may be the only two. And what I found--and I may be in the minority--is that under the ick and horror and conspiracy and medical and political details, this is a story about two people living their lives the best way they can and always, always, striving to get back to each other. It's kind of heart breaking and beautiful all at the same time. Or maybe I'm just a sap. It could be both.
Tomorrow--an excerpt from Shades of Blood and Wednesday, we're back to recaps! I don't know how much longer I can do them, since they make my heart hurt, but I'll carry on for a while longer.
First things first, who was excited about the season premeire of True Blood last night? Oh yeah, baby--that's how you kickstart a season! Seriously, I can't remember the last time I watched an hour of television from start to finish without once looking at a clock. There have been some who have said that the show is suffering from an overabundunce of story lines--I disagree. The series may center around Sookie, but what the writers have remembers is that no person lives in a vacuum. We all have connections which have connections which have further connections--like some crazy kind of spiderweb. Besides, if the writers didn't bring in outside characters we wouldn't have gotten this amazing quote from Pan:
I am wearing a Wal-Mart sweatshirt for ya'll--if that's not demonstration of team spirit than I don't know what is.
Next, there have been the release of movies such as Snow White and the Huntsman and Prometheus. I haven't seen the latter, but I have seen the former and was pleasantly surprised. It was wonderfully atmospheric and I feel like it did a great job of showing the dark side of a fairy tale. Being a sappy sap, I would have been happy for Snow White to find out that it was the Huntsmen who woke her from the sleep of death and for them to get their happily ever after, but I also realize it would have been kind of a cop-out. Still, there's always a hope they'll do a sequel and they'll get their happily ever after then. Who knows. Prometheus is on my list of movies to watch, which is interesting since the first time I saw the trailer I shook my head and went, "Uh, no." funny how seeing the trailer like a dozen times can change your mind.
Mira Grant's Blackout was the amazing thrill ride I hoped it would be. I laughed, I cried, I went, "Holy shit!"--basically, I experienced almost the entire range of human emotions. Not love or lust, because that would have been a little creepy, but those may be the only two. And what I found--and I may be in the minority--is that under the ick and horror and conspiracy and medical and political details, this is a story about two people living their lives the best way they can and always, always, striving to get back to each other. It's kind of heart breaking and beautiful all at the same time. Or maybe I'm just a sap. It could be both.
Tomorrow--an excerpt from Shades of Blood and Wednesday, we're back to recaps! I don't know how much longer I can do them, since they make my heart hurt, but I'll carry on for a while longer.
May 28, 2012
For the Rest of the Week...
There won't be any posts. None. Zip. Zilch. Nada. I'm going to be working my ass off on Shades of Blood, doing my best to get it finished and to the editor so you guys can get it in your greedy hands. (Totally a compliment, I promise). So--no blog posts until SoB is finished.
Try not to pine for me.
Try not to pine for me.
May 24, 2012
Random Thursday: I Had A Thought. And Then I Lost It.
Really, I did. I promise. I was even going to go find pictures, which as you all know, is a major thing for me. I don't believe in searching for pictures. It just annoys me. Although I did like the cat one from last week. And now I feel like I should burn my bad-ass-bitch card because I just admitted to liking a crazy Internet cat photo.
Moving on.
My birthday is in 9 days (or 10 depending on your time zone and how you do your counting)! I will be turning the dreaded Big 3-0. I would care a lot more than I do if I actually looked thirty. Thanks to genetics, an aversion to sunlight, and a lot of vodka, I don't look thirty. Points for me. And thanks to the salon, I don't even know if I have gray hair because I haven't seen my natural hair color since I was like...19. Maybe 20.
Also randomly running through my mind: Peggy McIntosh's "White Privilage". I may have the spelling and title wrong, but it's one of those articles that if you go to college you end up reading like three or four times. I have no idea why it's running through my head. Okay, I have something of an idea, but since it also corresponds with a criminology study that I can't remember all the details on and a whole shit ton of other stuff, I'm not going to talk about it. I feel like there are times I might have been a good investigative journalist, but then I remember my friend who got her degree in journalism and is stuck writing fluffy articles in order to build a portfolio and I decide that if I'm going to write fluff, it'll be fluff of my own choosing. Anyway, McIntosh's article will come back into play at some point. I feel it. I just don't know when.
I have a slew of guest posts/spots coming up in the next few months, so be on the lookout for those. I'm also attending DragonCon for the first time. More details on that as I figure them the hell out.
Now--I'm off to write one of those aforementioned guest posts and do some work on Shades of Blood. Off day? What off day?
Moving on.
My birthday is in 9 days (or 10 depending on your time zone and how you do your counting)! I will be turning the dreaded Big 3-0. I would care a lot more than I do if I actually looked thirty. Thanks to genetics, an aversion to sunlight, and a lot of vodka, I don't look thirty. Points for me. And thanks to the salon, I don't even know if I have gray hair because I haven't seen my natural hair color since I was like...19. Maybe 20.
Also randomly running through my mind: Peggy McIntosh's "White Privilage". I may have the spelling and title wrong, but it's one of those articles that if you go to college you end up reading like three or four times. I have no idea why it's running through my head. Okay, I have something of an idea, but since it also corresponds with a criminology study that I can't remember all the details on and a whole shit ton of other stuff, I'm not going to talk about it. I feel like there are times I might have been a good investigative journalist, but then I remember my friend who got her degree in journalism and is stuck writing fluffy articles in order to build a portfolio and I decide that if I'm going to write fluff, it'll be fluff of my own choosing. Anyway, McIntosh's article will come back into play at some point. I feel it. I just don't know when.
I have a slew of guest posts/spots coming up in the next few months, so be on the lookout for those. I'm also attending DragonCon for the first time. More details on that as I figure them the hell out.
Now--I'm off to write one of those aforementioned guest posts and do some work on Shades of Blood. Off day? What off day?
May 23, 2012
Wednesday Recap--Guilty Pleasures Chapter 4
First off: appreciate this. Because instead of writing this, I really want to be reading the new Mira Grant book, Blackout, that I've been waiting an entire year for. But I'm slogging my way through a chapter, so...appreciate. That's all I'm saying.
There was an undercurrent of fear. That peculiar terror that you get on roller coasters and at horror movies. Safe terror.
Every time I see a bit like this I get super excited and then I feel sad. Excited because hey, that's a decent spat of writing. Not instant orgasm wonderful, but decent. And then I feel sad because I remember how things turn out.
We get some buildup from Jean-Claude about the club, Guilty Pleasures, and then he introduces the first dancer, Phillip. Apparently Phillip is the shit. The women go absolutely wild. Maybe it's the calibre of strip clubs I've been in, but nobody ever gets super excited about any one particular dancer. But the places I've been to have been kind of seedy so, hey, who knows.
Phillip is....special. I think that's the nicest way to say it. He's scarred up, but they're not normal scars. They're vampires scars, from various bites and gnawing and what have you. This is apparently a turn on for a lot of people. Not for Anita, and I'm not really blaming her on this one. Catherine is freaked out, too. Monica is eating this shit up. Actually, she's eating Phillip up.
She was sucking the wound....Her eyes hel that lazy fullness that sex gives....she was basking in the afterglow.
Then, seemingly out of nowhere, another vampire is. He's not as awesome as Jean-Claude on a variety of levels and Anita enjoys getting the one-up on him.
There's nothing like ruining the calm of a hundred-year-old vampire to boost a girl's morale.
Admittedly, this does seem pretty flippin' awesome.
What follows is something both clever and disturbing. I won't ruin things for you, because while I do think it's one of Hamilton's better sections of writing so far (I'm trying to forget all the books that came after, so don't laugh at me), there are some legitimate questions and they all stem from Anita's perceptions and reactions.
Without throwing out any spoilers, I think my description of Phillip above would lead you to the impression that he's a vampire junkie. Anita seems shocked to shit and back. I don't get this. She works with the police, she's an animator (i.e. can raise zombies for a bit), and gives the impression of being up to date on the legal dealings that have happened as a result of vampires coming out of the coffin (and I totally can't remember where the phrase came from, but I think it was Charlaine Harris). Why isn't she up to date on the social/cultural going ons? I'm always astounded by the belief that the cultural aspects of anything can be ignored without long-ranging consequences. As a "vampire hunter", you would think she would want to know everything possible about her prey.
Which kind of leads in to my second point. The emotion that I pick up the most from Anita in regard to vampires is fear. This isn't a bad thing, per se, but I don't think it's necessarilly a good thing. What I've gathered from just television and books and documentaries and life in general is that if you're hunting something, especially something just as lethal if not more so than yourself, you need to have some level of respect for the prey. This may sound silly, but case in point: The Avengers. Both Loki and his backers essentially write off humanity as nothing more than a bug to be squashed and in the end they lose. Having respect for your prey/enemy doesn't mean you want to buy them a beer and talk about your differences--to me, it means that you see not only their weak points, but their strong ones, because your mind is open to the idea of them having strong points. It's a little convoluted but I can't think of a simple way to break it down. In the end, I don't see Anita as having a lot of respect for her prey, which may come back to (haha) bite her in the end.
After the show with Phillip and Robert (the other vampire--sorry, forgot to mention that), Anita gets a beep. Because even though she's not on-call, she still carries a beeper with her. I guess I missed the part where she's like a doctor. Anita and Jean-Claude have another pseudo-sexual exchange and then she's off like a turd of hurdles.
Fin.
There was an undercurrent of fear. That peculiar terror that you get on roller coasters and at horror movies. Safe terror.
Every time I see a bit like this I get super excited and then I feel sad. Excited because hey, that's a decent spat of writing. Not instant orgasm wonderful, but decent. And then I feel sad because I remember how things turn out.
We get some buildup from Jean-Claude about the club, Guilty Pleasures, and then he introduces the first dancer, Phillip. Apparently Phillip is the shit. The women go absolutely wild. Maybe it's the calibre of strip clubs I've been in, but nobody ever gets super excited about any one particular dancer. But the places I've been to have been kind of seedy so, hey, who knows.
Phillip is....special. I think that's the nicest way to say it. He's scarred up, but they're not normal scars. They're vampires scars, from various bites and gnawing and what have you. This is apparently a turn on for a lot of people. Not for Anita, and I'm not really blaming her on this one. Catherine is freaked out, too. Monica is eating this shit up. Actually, she's eating Phillip up.
She was sucking the wound....Her eyes hel that lazy fullness that sex gives....she was basking in the afterglow.
Then, seemingly out of nowhere, another vampire is. He's not as awesome as Jean-Claude on a variety of levels and Anita enjoys getting the one-up on him.
There's nothing like ruining the calm of a hundred-year-old vampire to boost a girl's morale.
Admittedly, this does seem pretty flippin' awesome.
What follows is something both clever and disturbing. I won't ruin things for you, because while I do think it's one of Hamilton's better sections of writing so far (I'm trying to forget all the books that came after, so don't laugh at me), there are some legitimate questions and they all stem from Anita's perceptions and reactions.
Without throwing out any spoilers, I think my description of Phillip above would lead you to the impression that he's a vampire junkie. Anita seems shocked to shit and back. I don't get this. She works with the police, she's an animator (i.e. can raise zombies for a bit), and gives the impression of being up to date on the legal dealings that have happened as a result of vampires coming out of the coffin (and I totally can't remember where the phrase came from, but I think it was Charlaine Harris). Why isn't she up to date on the social/cultural going ons? I'm always astounded by the belief that the cultural aspects of anything can be ignored without long-ranging consequences. As a "vampire hunter", you would think she would want to know everything possible about her prey.
Which kind of leads in to my second point. The emotion that I pick up the most from Anita in regard to vampires is fear. This isn't a bad thing, per se, but I don't think it's necessarilly a good thing. What I've gathered from just television and books and documentaries and life in general is that if you're hunting something, especially something just as lethal if not more so than yourself, you need to have some level of respect for the prey. This may sound silly, but case in point: The Avengers. Both Loki and his backers essentially write off humanity as nothing more than a bug to be squashed and in the end they lose. Having respect for your prey/enemy doesn't mean you want to buy them a beer and talk about your differences--to me, it means that you see not only their weak points, but their strong ones, because your mind is open to the idea of them having strong points. It's a little convoluted but I can't think of a simple way to break it down. In the end, I don't see Anita as having a lot of respect for her prey, which may come back to (haha) bite her in the end.
After the show with Phillip and Robert (the other vampire--sorry, forgot to mention that), Anita gets a beep. Because even though she's not on-call, she still carries a beeper with her. I guess I missed the part where she's like a doctor. Anita and Jean-Claude have another pseudo-sexual exchange and then she's off like a turd of hurdles.
Fin.
May 22, 2012
Tuesday Buildup!
First things first: I'm pushing the release date back to June 22. Why, may you ask? Because I feel like a bitch asking my editor for two rush jobs in a row. And because I want to make sure this gets done right. After that, you guys will get the next Frankie Post book Labor Day weekend, followed by Jude right around Halloween and Cari about two weeks before Christmas. And then next year: Winged!
Moving on. To keep you on your toes about what's going on with Jude, take a look at this. Warning: It's a little longer than usual, but I couldn't find a place to cut it. I still don't think I picked a good spot, but whatever.
“I’m concerned because part of my job is seeing justice done. I don’t care if Felipe belongs to you, Jude, or the Pope himself.” Duprees crossed himself before he’d finished his sentence and I bit my cheek to keep from giggling. “If I’m right, he’s already killed two individuals. And he’ll kill more.”“Don’t you remember, Detective? We’re already dead.” Again the brief and twisted smile. “Since you can accomplish more in your role as police liaison than I can hope to simply through harassment and bribery, we’ll try things your way for now. I’ll have Mickeal begin inquiries.”“Thank you.” Duprees stood, glancing at the ceiling. I rolled my eyes because I knew what was coming. “I’ll just head upstairs. See what everyone’s up to.”Williams waited until the door shut quietly behind him. “Why would he want to see what shenanigans are occurring?”“He doesn’t. He’s looking for Danie.” I picked up the tea, not surprised to find it only lukewarm when I took a sip. “He has a thing for her.”“A ‘thing’? Could you possibly define that for me?” Williams pressed the fingers of one hand to his temple, holding the other palm out. “Never mind. I trust you to deal with it. To deal with her.”“I don’t think anyone knows how to deal with her.” Although there was a quirk spurt of pride at his belief in my abilities. “She’s so angry. And not the crazy temper fits dhampirs are prone to having.”“I see you’ve been doing some research.” The edges of his mouth tilted up for the barest of seconds. “I was more than a little unprepared the first time the rage came over her.”“Well, she helped.” I set the tea aside, settled back into the cushions. I was going to be ready for a nap here soon. The baby books hadn’t joked about the energy drain. “After the first one she told us what had happened, what to look for, what to expect. Now whenever her eyes start glowing Mickeal or one of the guard haul her up to her room and lock her in.”“How much furniture has she damaged?”“Surprisingly little.” I wouldn’t tell him about the bed hangings. Elizabeth had stood in the door of Danie’s room and cried when she saw what Danie had done to the velvet. Apparently it was older than even Lisette had been. “But still, she’s so angry. And I don’t know why.”“Her mother’s dead. Her family shunned her before Danie’s birth, mostly due to her association with my brother.” Williams started tapping his fingers on his knee again, head tilted back, eyes closed. “The only family she has is a father she never met and never will and an uncle who has more experience in dealing with the females of a whorehouse than a teenage girl. I believe you’d be angry as well.”“I was more concerned with surviving.” I pressed a hand against my side when one of the bumps gave an extra hard nudge. “Ouch.”“For the love of God, do not say that.” Williams’s head jerked upright as suddenly as if it was attached to a pulled string. “Do not say or do anything to imply that something is amiss with your condition.”“One of them just kicked a little. Calm down.” I couldn’t keep the laugh out of my voice because his reaction was so typically male. The easiest way to clear a room these days was for me to do anything pregnancy related. Almost everyone with a penis fled like they were being chased by wildebeests. “They like to express their own views on some situations and the kicking is how it tends to happen.”“And what view was being expressed?” The smile was bigger this time and I smiled back before I could catch myself. Something was very wrong with my hormones.“If I had to guess, I would say one of them didn’t care for me being sarcastic towards you.” I winced when there was another kick, this one just a little sharper. “That would be a yes.”“Interesting. But I’ll take all the friends I can get.” Williams blinked, the lazy amusement in his eyes clearing. “Has Danie taken to listening in on people’s conversations?”“What?” Before I could ask him to explain, the door opened without any announcing knock. Theo left the door open, crossing the room to stand behind the sofa. His lips on the top of my head were as scorching as a sunburn and I bit back a sigh. “Something wrong, Theo?”“I caught Duprees roaming the hallways, looking somewhere between lost and embarrassed.” Normally I didn’t mind when he worked at the almost ever-present knot between my shoulder blades. But I had a feeling he was in the room more out of jealousy than a need to dote. “I sent him down to the kitchen.”“What’s Danie doing in the kitchen?” My eyes widened as I remembered who else had been there. “Tell me Elizabeth finished the accounts.”“Rian talked Elizabeth into joining Lies and Samuel in a game of cards.” I wanted to be thankful at the amusement I could hear in Theo’s voice but I knew it was only momentary. “Of course, you can’t really play cards with three, so he was obligated to join them.”“One step forward. I wonder what’s going to cause the two steps back.” I frowned as my brain finally started piecing things together. “Danie’s in the kitchen? Are you sure?”“She was when I left her not five minutes ago. And while she’s made it her life’s mission to find every secret passage in the house, she seemed determined to cook something, I’m not sure what.” Theo’s hands tightened almost painfully on my shoulders but I held back the wince. “Why?”I ignored him and addressed Williams, who was watching us with only a smidgen of curiosity. “Why would you ask if Danie had started eavesdropping?”“Because I can feel the presence of a dhampir. Very slight, but I do feel it.” Williams frowned and tilted his head to the side. “Or I did. I don’t feel it now.”“What is that, another predator thing?” How many special abilities did a species need?“Since dhampirs kill us, it’s more of a prey instinct.” Williams arched an eyebrow. “This is interesting. If it’s not Danie, who is it?”“Well, it’s not me. And it’s not Theo.” I tilted my head back to look up at him. At his head shake I lowered my chin to look at Williams. “And it’s not you.”“That would seem to be everyone in the room.” As soon as Theo finished his statement, one of the bumps kicked me hard enough I saw stars for a moment. The pain caused me to double over, fight for a deep breath. “Jude?”“We’re not the only people here.” I had a sick, sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. Or it might have been my heart. “Twins, remember?”“Yeah, I remember.” Theo came around the couch, sat on the sofa next to me. “And?”“Theo.” I turned towards him, took his face in my hands. Blind denial looks a lot like stupidity if you don’t look hard enough. “We can pretend it never happened, but it did. Just as sure as the next night happened.”“I’m sorry.” Williams’s apology was full of politeness and question. “Are you implying what I think you are?” “That God or Fate is playing a very cruel joke and giving the two bumps two different fathers?” I sucked in a breath when I felt two kicks, one of each side. “Yeah. That’s what I’m implying.”
Moving on. To keep you on your toes about what's going on with Jude, take a look at this. Warning: It's a little longer than usual, but I couldn't find a place to cut it. I still don't think I picked a good spot, but whatever.
“I’m concerned because part of my job is seeing justice done. I don’t care if Felipe belongs to you, Jude, or the Pope himself.” Duprees crossed himself before he’d finished his sentence and I bit my cheek to keep from giggling. “If I’m right, he’s already killed two individuals. And he’ll kill more.”“Don’t you remember, Detective? We’re already dead.” Again the brief and twisted smile. “Since you can accomplish more in your role as police liaison than I can hope to simply through harassment and bribery, we’ll try things your way for now. I’ll have Mickeal begin inquiries.”“Thank you.” Duprees stood, glancing at the ceiling. I rolled my eyes because I knew what was coming. “I’ll just head upstairs. See what everyone’s up to.”Williams waited until the door shut quietly behind him. “Why would he want to see what shenanigans are occurring?”“He doesn’t. He’s looking for Danie.” I picked up the tea, not surprised to find it only lukewarm when I took a sip. “He has a thing for her.”“A ‘thing’? Could you possibly define that for me?” Williams pressed the fingers of one hand to his temple, holding the other palm out. “Never mind. I trust you to deal with it. To deal with her.”“I don’t think anyone knows how to deal with her.” Although there was a quirk spurt of pride at his belief in my abilities. “She’s so angry. And not the crazy temper fits dhampirs are prone to having.”“I see you’ve been doing some research.” The edges of his mouth tilted up for the barest of seconds. “I was more than a little unprepared the first time the rage came over her.”“Well, she helped.” I set the tea aside, settled back into the cushions. I was going to be ready for a nap here soon. The baby books hadn’t joked about the energy drain. “After the first one she told us what had happened, what to look for, what to expect. Now whenever her eyes start glowing Mickeal or one of the guard haul her up to her room and lock her in.”“How much furniture has she damaged?”“Surprisingly little.” I wouldn’t tell him about the bed hangings. Elizabeth had stood in the door of Danie’s room and cried when she saw what Danie had done to the velvet. Apparently it was older than even Lisette had been. “But still, she’s so angry. And I don’t know why.”“Her mother’s dead. Her family shunned her before Danie’s birth, mostly due to her association with my brother.” Williams started tapping his fingers on his knee again, head tilted back, eyes closed. “The only family she has is a father she never met and never will and an uncle who has more experience in dealing with the females of a whorehouse than a teenage girl. I believe you’d be angry as well.”“I was more concerned with surviving.” I pressed a hand against my side when one of the bumps gave an extra hard nudge. “Ouch.”“For the love of God, do not say that.” Williams’s head jerked upright as suddenly as if it was attached to a pulled string. “Do not say or do anything to imply that something is amiss with your condition.”“One of them just kicked a little. Calm down.” I couldn’t keep the laugh out of my voice because his reaction was so typically male. The easiest way to clear a room these days was for me to do anything pregnancy related. Almost everyone with a penis fled like they were being chased by wildebeests. “They like to express their own views on some situations and the kicking is how it tends to happen.”“And what view was being expressed?” The smile was bigger this time and I smiled back before I could catch myself. Something was very wrong with my hormones.“If I had to guess, I would say one of them didn’t care for me being sarcastic towards you.” I winced when there was another kick, this one just a little sharper. “That would be a yes.”“Interesting. But I’ll take all the friends I can get.” Williams blinked, the lazy amusement in his eyes clearing. “Has Danie taken to listening in on people’s conversations?”“What?” Before I could ask him to explain, the door opened without any announcing knock. Theo left the door open, crossing the room to stand behind the sofa. His lips on the top of my head were as scorching as a sunburn and I bit back a sigh. “Something wrong, Theo?”“I caught Duprees roaming the hallways, looking somewhere between lost and embarrassed.” Normally I didn’t mind when he worked at the almost ever-present knot between my shoulder blades. But I had a feeling he was in the room more out of jealousy than a need to dote. “I sent him down to the kitchen.”“What’s Danie doing in the kitchen?” My eyes widened as I remembered who else had been there. “Tell me Elizabeth finished the accounts.”“Rian talked Elizabeth into joining Lies and Samuel in a game of cards.” I wanted to be thankful at the amusement I could hear in Theo’s voice but I knew it was only momentary. “Of course, you can’t really play cards with three, so he was obligated to join them.”“One step forward. I wonder what’s going to cause the two steps back.” I frowned as my brain finally started piecing things together. “Danie’s in the kitchen? Are you sure?”“She was when I left her not five minutes ago. And while she’s made it her life’s mission to find every secret passage in the house, she seemed determined to cook something, I’m not sure what.” Theo’s hands tightened almost painfully on my shoulders but I held back the wince. “Why?”I ignored him and addressed Williams, who was watching us with only a smidgen of curiosity. “Why would you ask if Danie had started eavesdropping?”“Because I can feel the presence of a dhampir. Very slight, but I do feel it.” Williams frowned and tilted his head to the side. “Or I did. I don’t feel it now.”“What is that, another predator thing?” How many special abilities did a species need?“Since dhampirs kill us, it’s more of a prey instinct.” Williams arched an eyebrow. “This is interesting. If it’s not Danie, who is it?”“Well, it’s not me. And it’s not Theo.” I tilted my head back to look up at him. At his head shake I lowered my chin to look at Williams. “And it’s not you.”“That would seem to be everyone in the room.” As soon as Theo finished his statement, one of the bumps kicked me hard enough I saw stars for a moment. The pain caused me to double over, fight for a deep breath. “Jude?”“We’re not the only people here.” I had a sick, sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. Or it might have been my heart. “Twins, remember?”“Yeah, I remember.” Theo came around the couch, sat on the sofa next to me. “And?”“Theo.” I turned towards him, took his face in my hands. Blind denial looks a lot like stupidity if you don’t look hard enough. “We can pretend it never happened, but it did. Just as sure as the next night happened.”“I’m sorry.” Williams’s apology was full of politeness and question. “Are you implying what I think you are?” “That God or Fate is playing a very cruel joke and giving the two bumps two different fathers?” I sucked in a breath when I felt two kicks, one of each side. “Yeah. That’s what I’m implying.”
May 21, 2012
Media Monday--Season Review of Smash!
I'm a lover of musicals. That's the easiest way to say it. I fell in love with musicals after watching The Sound of Music when I was like 10 and it's just sort of gone from there. When I went to New York in March, I saw Anything Goes on Broadway and I felt like I had achieved something truly monumental in life. So obviously, when Smash premiered back in February, I was on board from the get-go.
Smash had a ton of ups and downs. A TON. It was like the proverbial roller coaster, but in television form (which is one of the few roller coasters I'll do, because I'm afraid of heights). At the center of everything, though, was the big question:
Who will play Marilyn?
Would it be the seasoned Broadway veteran, Ivy Lynn, who finally had her big break in reach? Or would it be Karen Cartwright, still farm girl fresh, struggling for her own shot at fame and glory? (I'm not counting the movie star, because I think everyone knew she wouldn't keep the role in the end)
Each girl had her strong points. Ivy, as mentioned before, is a veteran of Broadway. She's paid her dues. She understands the grueling schedule and demands of a show. She gets both parts of the phrase "show business". Karen, on the other hand, brings an innocence to the role of the bombshell (a fitting title for the fledgling show) that can't be faked. Her voice is, for me at least, superior to Ivy's--this isn't to say Ivy's voice was bad, because it wasn't. Karen's voice simply resonated more, with one notable exception (Ivy Lynn's rendition of I'm Going Down).
In the end, that innocence won Karen Cartwright the role, even if it may have cost her a wedding.
The Affair of the Affair
Viewers and critics alike came down harsh on the relationship between Michael Swift (Joe DiMaggio) and Julia Houston (Debra Messing). One of the most common complaints was how it did--or rather--didn't handle the reality of an affair. The reality is: THERE IS NO RIGHT OR WRONG WAY TO WRITE AN AFFAIR. I'm sorry, but there isn't. Back when I was young and stupid (which I sometimes think the two words go hand in hand), I was very firm about cheating. I wouldn't do it and I expected the same from my partner. As I've gotten older and been kicked in the teeth more by life, I've gotten more flexible. I can see how people can either fall into or actively engage in an affair. And I can see how some couples can come back from an affair. I think Smash handled the situation in one of a hundred ways, which doesn't make it right or wrong. It just makes it one way to handle it.
I planned to make this post longer, but honestly, those were the two big issues with Smash, at least as far as I'm aware. I don't spend a lot of time on message boards, so who knows. And I'm sure my opinions are not popular. Whatever.
Smash had a ton of ups and downs. A TON. It was like the proverbial roller coaster, but in television form (which is one of the few roller coasters I'll do, because I'm afraid of heights). At the center of everything, though, was the big question:
Who will play Marilyn?
Would it be the seasoned Broadway veteran, Ivy Lynn, who finally had her big break in reach? Or would it be Karen Cartwright, still farm girl fresh, struggling for her own shot at fame and glory? (I'm not counting the movie star, because I think everyone knew she wouldn't keep the role in the end)
Each girl had her strong points. Ivy, as mentioned before, is a veteran of Broadway. She's paid her dues. She understands the grueling schedule and demands of a show. She gets both parts of the phrase "show business". Karen, on the other hand, brings an innocence to the role of the bombshell (a fitting title for the fledgling show) that can't be faked. Her voice is, for me at least, superior to Ivy's--this isn't to say Ivy's voice was bad, because it wasn't. Karen's voice simply resonated more, with one notable exception (Ivy Lynn's rendition of I'm Going Down).
In the end, that innocence won Karen Cartwright the role, even if it may have cost her a wedding.
The Affair of the Affair
Viewers and critics alike came down harsh on the relationship between Michael Swift (Joe DiMaggio) and Julia Houston (Debra Messing). One of the most common complaints was how it did--or rather--didn't handle the reality of an affair. The reality is: THERE IS NO RIGHT OR WRONG WAY TO WRITE AN AFFAIR. I'm sorry, but there isn't. Back when I was young and stupid (which I sometimes think the two words go hand in hand), I was very firm about cheating. I wouldn't do it and I expected the same from my partner. As I've gotten older and been kicked in the teeth more by life, I've gotten more flexible. I can see how people can either fall into or actively engage in an affair. And I can see how some couples can come back from an affair. I think Smash handled the situation in one of a hundred ways, which doesn't make it right or wrong. It just makes it one way to handle it.
I planned to make this post longer, but honestly, those were the two big issues with Smash, at least as far as I'm aware. I don't spend a lot of time on message boards, so who knows. And I'm sure my opinions are not popular. Whatever.
May 17, 2012
Recap Thursday
So, my apologies for not getting this done yesterday. I'd like to say I had a good reason. But I don't. I got off work, went home, crawled into bed and passed out. And then I got up, took a shower, ate dinner, and went to the bar.
I guess part of it is I'm just feeling overwhelmed. I set deadlines for myself that, while not impossible, aren't easy, and I'm too stubborn to admit I've probably screwed the pooch a little. I'm not ridiculously behind, maybe about 2-3 weeks, which I kind of built in to my calculations, but still. I hate being late. It's one of my pet peeves. And I hate it more so when it's at least 75% my fault.
Okay. Enough whining. On to the recap.
Monica Vespucci was wearing a button that said, "Vampires are People, too." It was not a promising beginning to the evening.
I'd say this isn't a promising beginning to the chapter. To be absolutely literal, the button isn't wrong. Vampires are people--they just happen to be dead, which may not have been clarified, but if this was a true/false question on an exam, the answer would be TRUE.
Follow this up with possibly the shortest physical description we'll see of a character and the following sentence:
The button should have tipped me off to what kind of bachelorette party she'd planned.
And I think it's safe to say Monica is not going to be on Anita's good side. Foreshadowing with a hammer is not subtle.
Then we get an entire paragraph of description on Anita. Very, very, detailed description. Six color words in one paragraph. First page, we've got eight colors. I feel like I've wandered into a Crayola commercial or something.
I was wearing black jeans, knee-high boots, and a crimson blouse. My hair was made to order for the outfit, black curling just over the shoulders of the red blouse. The solid, nearly black-brown of my eyes matches the hair. Only the skin stands out, too pale, Germanic against the Latin darkness.
I have a few problems with this. Just a few. First, there's all the lovely repetition going on here. Second, since you bought the clothes and not the hair (I'm assuming), you hair wasn't made to order, the outfit was. Third, being pale doesn't make you Germanic and having dark hair and dark eyes doesn't make you Latin. I'm sorry, but it's the truth. I'm super pale--like if you wander down the make-up aisle and look at foundations I'm the second lightest color pale--but I'm not German. Most of my ancestry is Scottish and Irish with some English thrown in for the hell of it. I've dyed my hair damn near every natural color, from my actual blonde to super dark red/brown. I actually look tanner/darker with darker hair. It's like one of those optical illusions. I'm willing to concede this doesn't work for everyone, but either way, being pale doesn't make you Germanic looking. Moving on now.
I had left my gun locked in the trunk of my car. I didn't think the bachelorette party would get that out of hand.
I think this is what really bothers me. Out of all the dreck, these two lines shine. It's actually funny. I would say something like this, because I'm a sarcastic bitch. These little gems of humor give you hope, only to dash it with the absolute boring-ness of everything else.
We get some Anita meanness, followed by Catherine (the friend who's getting married--I feel like I may have missed that little bit during the last recap), who must have the patience of a saint to put up with her, telling her to be polite. And then we get one of those great, back-handed compliments that only women can really pull off.
I've never been able to decide if Catherine would be prettier if she cut her hair, so you'd notice the face first, or if the hair was what made her pretty.
That's a bitch move right there. Sorry, but it is. And about someone who's supposed to be your friend? Bad form, darling, bad form.
There's some more banal description followed by the kind of female interaction designed to make Catherine and Monica look weak and Anita look super tough. Sorry, I don't meet a lot of women in their mid to late twenties who still throw out words like "pooh" and "stick-in-the-mud", at least not with a straight face. Maybe I'm around a lot of cynical bitches, but we tend to stick with the more traditional "damn" and "fuck" and "shit". Or maybe we just have potty mouths.
The sign was a wonderful swirling neon the color of heart blood.
Again, this is one of those times where some clarification would be prudent. Is this blood still in the heart or not? If it's not, then it's not heart blood, which would make it red. If it is in the heart, then it's not really red red, even though it's in the same color. I'm not a medical genius, but you hear quite often that blood doesn't actually turn red until it's exposed to oxygen. Nitpicks. Moving on.
More colors, more words wasted on someone who may or may not be a throwaway character. I mean, dude gets a name, but that don't mean shit. Guilty Pleasures is the hottest ticket in town, by the way, but apparently there's no line. Maybe our party of three got there early. Who knows.
Then we meet Jean-Claude.
He looked like a vampire was supposed to look.
Wow, that's not judgemental at all, is it?
We get some sexy moments, although to me they're a combination of good manners and performance. If you're a club owner, you're friendly and flirtatious to a lot of people. It's good for business. Still, Anita manages to turn the entire exchange into a mind-fuck/seduction, followed by the requisite pissing match. Three chapters, three pissing matches. This girl is happy with NO ONE. That must be exhausting.
I'll admit, the idea of a holy item check girl at a vampire-centric club is smart. It's one of those tiny details that actually help make the world and scene instead of detracting from it. Unlike this:
You really need eye contact to play tough.
No, actually, you don't. I've personally found it pretty damn easy to be a hard-ass without looking someone in the face. The impression doesn't come from actions but from attitude. I've managed to piss people off simply by not looking at them--people think it's dismissive, which it kind of is, but it gets the point across that I can't be bothered wasting any time with you, which is one way of being tough. Maybe it's a regional thing, who knows.
Anita finally gives up the cross and the evening of fun can start. We also, finally, find out what Guilty Pleasures is--the world's ONLY vampire strip club. I'm curious as to how they can make this claim. You would think Vegas would have cashed in on this little market two years ago when the "vampires are human" thing got figured out. Apparently, you would have thought wrong.
We get some creepy interaction between Jean-Claude and Anita--or at least it's supposed to be creepy. I don't really think a man blowing me a kiss after he's been flirting with me is creepy, but I hang out in sketchy bars, so maybe I'm a little warped.
Color count: (including repeats and generalities) 19
Page count: 6
Drink count: None (it's 9 in the morning--I have work to do today, I can't get schwasted)
I guess part of it is I'm just feeling overwhelmed. I set deadlines for myself that, while not impossible, aren't easy, and I'm too stubborn to admit I've probably screwed the pooch a little. I'm not ridiculously behind, maybe about 2-3 weeks, which I kind of built in to my calculations, but still. I hate being late. It's one of my pet peeves. And I hate it more so when it's at least 75% my fault.
Okay. Enough whining. On to the recap.
Monica Vespucci was wearing a button that said, "Vampires are People, too." It was not a promising beginning to the evening.
I'd say this isn't a promising beginning to the chapter. To be absolutely literal, the button isn't wrong. Vampires are people--they just happen to be dead, which may not have been clarified, but if this was a true/false question on an exam, the answer would be TRUE.
Follow this up with possibly the shortest physical description we'll see of a character and the following sentence:
The button should have tipped me off to what kind of bachelorette party she'd planned.
And I think it's safe to say Monica is not going to be on Anita's good side. Foreshadowing with a hammer is not subtle.
Then we get an entire paragraph of description on Anita. Very, very, detailed description. Six color words in one paragraph. First page, we've got eight colors. I feel like I've wandered into a Crayola commercial or something.
I was wearing black jeans, knee-high boots, and a crimson blouse. My hair was made to order for the outfit, black curling just over the shoulders of the red blouse. The solid, nearly black-brown of my eyes matches the hair. Only the skin stands out, too pale, Germanic against the Latin darkness.
I have a few problems with this. Just a few. First, there's all the lovely repetition going on here. Second, since you bought the clothes and not the hair (I'm assuming), you hair wasn't made to order, the outfit was. Third, being pale doesn't make you Germanic and having dark hair and dark eyes doesn't make you Latin. I'm sorry, but it's the truth. I'm super pale--like if you wander down the make-up aisle and look at foundations I'm the second lightest color pale--but I'm not German. Most of my ancestry is Scottish and Irish with some English thrown in for the hell of it. I've dyed my hair damn near every natural color, from my actual blonde to super dark red/brown. I actually look tanner/darker with darker hair. It's like one of those optical illusions. I'm willing to concede this doesn't work for everyone, but either way, being pale doesn't make you Germanic looking. Moving on now.
I had left my gun locked in the trunk of my car. I didn't think the bachelorette party would get that out of hand.
I think this is what really bothers me. Out of all the dreck, these two lines shine. It's actually funny. I would say something like this, because I'm a sarcastic bitch. These little gems of humor give you hope, only to dash it with the absolute boring-ness of everything else.
We get some Anita meanness, followed by Catherine (the friend who's getting married--I feel like I may have missed that little bit during the last recap), who must have the patience of a saint to put up with her, telling her to be polite. And then we get one of those great, back-handed compliments that only women can really pull off.
I've never been able to decide if Catherine would be prettier if she cut her hair, so you'd notice the face first, or if the hair was what made her pretty.
That's a bitch move right there. Sorry, but it is. And about someone who's supposed to be your friend? Bad form, darling, bad form.
There's some more banal description followed by the kind of female interaction designed to make Catherine and Monica look weak and Anita look super tough. Sorry, I don't meet a lot of women in their mid to late twenties who still throw out words like "pooh" and "stick-in-the-mud", at least not with a straight face. Maybe I'm around a lot of cynical bitches, but we tend to stick with the more traditional "damn" and "fuck" and "shit". Or maybe we just have potty mouths.
The sign was a wonderful swirling neon the color of heart blood.
Again, this is one of those times where some clarification would be prudent. Is this blood still in the heart or not? If it's not, then it's not heart blood, which would make it red. If it is in the heart, then it's not really red red, even though it's in the same color. I'm not a medical genius, but you hear quite often that blood doesn't actually turn red until it's exposed to oxygen. Nitpicks. Moving on.
More colors, more words wasted on someone who may or may not be a throwaway character. I mean, dude gets a name, but that don't mean shit. Guilty Pleasures is the hottest ticket in town, by the way, but apparently there's no line. Maybe our party of three got there early. Who knows.
Then we meet Jean-Claude.
He looked like a vampire was supposed to look.
Wow, that's not judgemental at all, is it?
We get some sexy moments, although to me they're a combination of good manners and performance. If you're a club owner, you're friendly and flirtatious to a lot of people. It's good for business. Still, Anita manages to turn the entire exchange into a mind-fuck/seduction, followed by the requisite pissing match. Three chapters, three pissing matches. This girl is happy with NO ONE. That must be exhausting.
I'll admit, the idea of a holy item check girl at a vampire-centric club is smart. It's one of those tiny details that actually help make the world and scene instead of detracting from it. Unlike this:
You really need eye contact to play tough.
No, actually, you don't. I've personally found it pretty damn easy to be a hard-ass without looking someone in the face. The impression doesn't come from actions but from attitude. I've managed to piss people off simply by not looking at them--people think it's dismissive, which it kind of is, but it gets the point across that I can't be bothered wasting any time with you, which is one way of being tough. Maybe it's a regional thing, who knows.
Anita finally gives up the cross and the evening of fun can start. We also, finally, find out what Guilty Pleasures is--the world's ONLY vampire strip club. I'm curious as to how they can make this claim. You would think Vegas would have cashed in on this little market two years ago when the "vampires are human" thing got figured out. Apparently, you would have thought wrong.
We get some creepy interaction between Jean-Claude and Anita--or at least it's supposed to be creepy. I don't really think a man blowing me a kiss after he's been flirting with me is creepy, but I hang out in sketchy bars, so maybe I'm a little warped.
Color count: (including repeats and generalities) 19
Page count: 6
Drink count: None (it's 9 in the morning--I have work to do today, I can't get schwasted)
May 15, 2012
Tuesday Buildup--The Inspiration Behind Shades of Blood
So, like Shades of Desire, Shades of Blood does have a historical base that I'm building on. It's funny, because it's very, very hard to find a good, bare bones version of the story. I was originally told the story (both of them, actually) by a tour guide on a Haunted History Tour in New Orleans. Some of the guides are more informative than others, making it a little hit and miss. The version below, which is the closest I can find at the moment, gives some background on the mysterious Felipe.
John and Wayne Carter were brothers. Seemed to be normal in every aspect. Had normal labor jobs down by the river and lived on a street in the French Quarter. It was the 1930’s and times were hard. So a man worked all he could and rested when he could. One day, a girl was reported to have escaped from the Carter brothers’ apartment, and ran to the authorities. Her wrists were cut. Not enough to cause immediate death, but more so, to drain slowly of that red source of life, over the course of several days. The policemen ran to this 3rd story apartment and found 4 others tied to chairs with their wrists sliced in the same fashion also. Some had been there for many days. The story was that both of these brothers had abducted each of them and would drink their blood at the end of every day when they came home from work. They also found about 14 other dead bodies. The cops waited that night for the return of the brothers and when they did, it took 7 to 8 of them to hold down these two averaged size men who had been doing manual labor all day. A few years later when they were finally executed, the bodies were placed in a New Orleans vault. Cemeteries in New Orleans are fanciful in their own making. Not only are they more ornate than the rest of our nation’s, but they recycle them using the same vault over and over again. The remains sift down into the back, bottom of the vault, when it is all rubble, and the new body is slid inside. After many years, they were placing some other Carter in this grave and what they found in the vault was nothing. No John or Wayne. They were gone. To this day, many sightings have occurred in the French Quarter that match the descriptions of these two brothers almost exactly. Years later, an owner of their apartment, saw two figures that resembled them outside on their balcony one night whispering to each other. Both figures jumped off the top of the 3rd story balcony and took off running.
The rumor is that if a vampire drinks of your blood 7 nights in a row, then and only then can you become a vampire. Some of those kidnapped in the Carter brothers apartment had been there over 7 days. One warped fellow, named Felipe, went on to become one of the nation’s biggest serial killer. And of course, he would do more than just kill them, he was believed to drink all 32 of his victims’ blood. --orignially posted at The Dashing Life and Exuberant Times of Brian Harrison....And Other Rare Anecdotes
How will all this come together with Jude, Theo, Williams, and Duprees? Well, for that you'll have to wait and see. (Hey--I rhymed. Look at that!)
