Rathan Krueger's Blog, page 12

Slow and Steady… Slow and Steady

I did a bit of networking over the weekend. It felt good talking about my novel to people. What surprised me was how interesting that was to someone. During a car ride, he proclaimed to me how ballsy it was that I’ve put myself out into the world. It doesn’t feel that way to me. Well… it does but not nearly as emphatically as he felt. I know it’s hard on the nerves (every day, I know…) to essentially say to people “Listen to me!” and wait for them to reply, but it’s part of the gig. Especially when you’re self-promoting. But it’s not something I think about often. I’m never afraid of sending my daily e-mails to reviewers. It’s more “…this again?” It’s like having a sink full of dirty dishes. It’s there and if you don’t take care of it, you’re in trouble, but it’s full of so many damn dishes. But it’s part of the gig. I’m not sure what all that had to do with courage. Oh wait, it makes sense. I just feel that people should do more instead of say that they will or think about it. But that’d mean I’d have to share success space. Hmm…

New Nine Inch Nails this week: “Hesitation Marks”. And the home release of Rob Zombie’s latest film, “Lords of Salem”, comes out also. Longevity is an interesting thing.

Give my novel, “Lie”, a try. It’s a surreal dramedy about four women who go on a getaway to help one of their own through a tough time. The first four chapters are available to read for free, courtesy of Goodreads, and the rest of the novel is only $1.99 wherever eBooks are sold. Thanks.

The Face Outside

My finger slides into an old hole in an old chair, like a drowsy surgeon prodding a rotted wound. It’s been four days since he called… nine since we’ve seen each other. This chair, many times, I’ve tasted his crown. He’s admired my… smile. Sometimes like a drowsy surgeon, sometimes like a hungry vagrant. Always a maestro. This chair, many times, we’ve sat and slept ’til dawn. Me usually on his lap, but sometimes I cradled him. Those times, I didn’t sleep.

Slumber begins to take me and my mind drifts to the ether. The phone’s nearby, so I’ll be woken by the most pleasant alarm. The ether takes me to a high-rise. I stand at an open window and a plank extends far, far. Far to another high-rise. I take my stride atop the wood. It’s sturdy… and there’s no wind. I can’t tell if I can’t look down or if there’s nothing beneath me. Soon, I get to the other building. I stumble inside and land on my shoulder, but I feel no pain. A party is happening. I wander through the bacchanalia, foreign faces of old passerbys, until I see him. He sees me. He sits on a stool and he sees me. He then pulls his pants away from his waist, and vomits in them.

I’m awoken not by a siren but by a cerebus. My cerebus, barking at the window in the middle of the night. I’m not sure whether or not to be grateful, but her concern worries me. I hit my knee on a stand and limp the rest of the way. I open the curtain… and a face stares at me. Just a face. No body, no hair, just a face. Its eyes are veined, but there are no pupils. Yet I can tell they are focused on me. Wide eyes under a heavy brow, focused on me. Its sunken cheeks betray the face’s youthfulness. Its cracked lips move as if they’re muttering something, but the only thing coming out is fog on the window. I can’t recognize it.

My dog drags her face on the floor, barks becoming almost gurgles. The pain in my knee continues to throb. The sallow face still murmurs wisps. And the walls begin to shatter. The face contorts as if it’s screaming, mouth spread wide and black tongue dangling. My fear is only matched by my confusion. I begin to run away… then the phone rings.

Don’t stop now! Read the first four chapters of my first novel, “Lie”, on Goodreads. It’s a surreal dramedy about four gals who go on vacation to help one of their own through a life-changing problem. If you like what you read, pick it up for only $1.99 wherever eBooks are sold. Thanks.

On the Road

A tiny/huge update on “Lie”. I confirmed my first interview last week. It gets published in early-October. Baby steps.

After I finish this batch of short stories, poems, and essays I’m working on, I’m thinking about writing “Tangle Core”. “Murderhounds”, I could write and film anytime. “Tangle Core”, though, is a story that needs to be told as soon as possible. If for no other reason than I have to do it before someone else does. Because the essential idea of the film is that it’s my generation angry with apathy at the lies and broken promises of the previous generation. “Go to college, everything will work out” springs to mind. But it won’t be done in a whiny way. That’s annoying. I wanna approach it from a slightly nihilistic angle. These… “cries from a generation” type of stories tend to be loud and angsty and full of life. “Easy Rider” springs to mind. I wanna tears from a story that’s dead inside.

Over the weekend, I witnessed “The World’s End” twice. It was spectacular, save for the fact that both times, a couple to my immediate right made out throughout it. Two different couples. I didn’t think that pubs and blue made people randy. I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do more: slap them because they’re being annoying or slap them because they’re missing the film. I kept my hands to myself, though. Not sure if I’ll be able to do that mentally when “The World’s End” catches on. I basically dress like Gary King (minus the shades and silver) and people don’t really try hard when they wanna make fun of someone, so I get to prepare for that. Happened with “The Matrix”, which was great except I had a full head of hair yet people kept calling me Morpheus. Oh well, I loved “The World’s End” so they won’t be able to get me down. Even drew something:

Well, back to the mines.

Give the first four chapters of my novel, “Lie”, a read. Courtesy of Goodreads. It’s a surreal dramedy about four gals who go on vacation to help with a life-changing situation. If you like what you’ve read, you can pick it up for only $1.99 wherever eBooks are sold. Thanks.

Someone Else is Living Here

$120 later, Jack & Jill have a new Jr. Detective Forensic Starter Kit. Mommy wasn’t pleased about spending it, but it seems this CSI phase is becoming a habit. As opposed to the spacemen, the firemen, the archaeologists, the dinosaurs (Mommy’s favorite), and the mad scientists (Mommy’s not-favorite). Daddy… went to sleep and had to go away for a while, so this mega-purchase is Mommy’s way of helping Jack & Jill wait.

The next day, Mommy comes home from work to a slightly different garage. The shovel isn’t where it’s supposed to be and it’s a little dirty. She runs with worry to the lawns and gardens, and relaxes when she sees that her rabbits didn’t burrow. When she goes inside the house, she doesn’t get a chance to ask about the shovel. She’s snatched by Jack & Jill and led to the living room. They’re strangely clean, for children.

They ask Mommy to help them solve a crime. Before they go on, she remembers her part of their deal and puts on her sunglasses with a bad joke. The tots shout “YEAH!” and start talking about the crime. A very elaborate tale of intrigue, broken hearts, and Jack’s stuffed bear. At least, that’s the story after piecing together their scattered thoughts and exaggerations. For instance, the ceiling didn’t get smashed by “a thousand-trillion birdies”.

Jack & Jill tell Mommy that she has to dust for prints while they tape off the crime scene. As she makes her way to the light switch, she makes a mental note to buy more floral tape. Jill tells her that Daddy’s fingerprints are the ones that’re barely there. Mommy picks up the pink brush with a sense of melancholy and dusts around the switch. She sees her faded husband’s, sees hers, sees Jack’s, sees Jill’s… and sees a fresh stranger’s.

Mommy asks if anyone’s been here today. Jack giggles and Jill smacks him, warning him that he’s ruining the fun. Mommy goes full-mommy and asks who’s been here. And why the shovel was moved. Jack starts crying under pressure and Jill explains. They wanted to play a game with Mommy so right after they got out of school, they went to the garage and got a shovel. Then they snuck into the place with all the stone and statues, and came back with new fingerprints. Jack chimes in with a smile and says that they took a bath when they got back so they wouldn’t make a mess. Then shows off his clean, clean hands.

Mommy’s very confused about how they got fingerprints and what place has stone and stat– The graveyard. She demands to know how they got fingerprints, dreading each syllable. Jack & Jill look at each other, argue something about not wanting to touch it again, and Jill begrudgingly going because Jack touched it last time. Mommy watches as she gets “it” from under the couch: a corpse’s hand. Mommy yells for her to drop it and she does.

Jack & Jill are confused because they didn’t hurt anyone and they did it to make Mommy happy. She’s been so sad since Daddy went away. Mommy drops to the floor and cries. Jill, not knowing what to do, goes to Mommy and cries with her. Jack goes to Jill and gives her Teddy, then tells Mommy not to cry. The two fairers wipe their faces and Mommy takes a deep breath, then tells them the truth about Daddy.

If you enjoyed that, you should give the first four chapters of my novel, “Lie”, a try on Goodreads. It’s a surreal dramedy about four women who go on vacation to help one cope with a life-changing situation. And if you wanna know how it ends, the rest of the novel’s only $1.99 wherever eBooks are sold. Thanks for readin’.

The Scarlet Empress

I realized last week that updates on “Lie” are gonna be rather repetitive for a while, so I won’t be saying much about it until anything major happens. With that said, I’m always self-promoting it and offering it to reviewers and the like, so don’t think that my not talking about it in the coming weeks means that I’ve given up. I just don’t think anyone wants to read “talked to a few more people about it” every Monday.

I’ve put my notes for “Tangle Core” and “Murderhounds” to the side for now because I have a few short stories and essays to write that’re more important since they have deadlines. Like an essay about my motto, which took me longer to crack than I thought. I finally figured it out yesterday, only to read that I’d have to add an extra word since the rules stipulate three words. So “Never Settle” became “Don’t Ever Settle”. I also wanna try soon a serial writing assignment. Just for my amusement. One of my first steps in planning what to write is to see the end, but this time I’d like to try writing without seeing it. I know that I wanna write a Gothic sapphic story with no redeemable characters, and that I wanna write it in four chunks. I have an idea of how to start so I’ll write that soon, but only knowing how I’m gonna end each chunk as I write it. I have no idea how I’ll end it and that’s the fun of this particular project. I also have a short story for Clive Barker to finish, and an essay with food/drink at its center. AND I have a short story to write as a birthday present to myself.

I finished reading a biography of Marlene Dietrich written by her daughter, Maria Riva, last night. It might end up being my favorite book of all-time. It’s such a great, multi-tiered examination of history and people. Next on the slab is a biography of Oscar Wilde. I don’t really have a reason for reading about him apart from having a passing enjoyment of his work. And a want to see how homosexuals were treated back in his day. Ditto the biography of Natalie Barney I have tucked away somewhere. A straight guy can read about rainbow bandits, right? And if not, shame on you.

I’ve been catching up on the filmography by my soon-to-be favorite Japanese director, Sion Sono. I’m not sure what to suggest of his… Both are intense and NSFW, because all of his films are intense and NSFW, but if you’re looking for something realistic (bonus points for being based off of a true story), I recommend “Cold Fish”. If you want something more surreal, “Strange Circus” is your huckleberry.

I’ve also been planning my birthday party next month. Last year’s was… and I was so dejected that I more or less swore parties off. Then last week, I thought that this birthday would be my first birthday as an artist who’s entered the world. Surely that’s a reason to kick tires and light fires. Plus, it’s on a Friday. So I figured something out that won’t involve me hating my life afterwards, and will be bombastic while at the same time be rather insular.

Wanna read a surreal dramedy about four women on a getaway? Sure, you do. Wanna read the first four chapters so you’re plenty prepared? But of course? Wanna buy “Lie” by Rathan Krueger for only $1.99 wherever eBooks are sold to find out more about Quinevere, Veronique, Idette, and Fantine? Boy howdy!

The Reaction

A mirror cannot lie. It can give you warped or broken truths, but it cannot present falsehoods. At the moment, one mirror reflects a quaint happiness. A man takes an ivory brush to his lover’s long hair. Each stroke goes from the top of her head down, down, down to her dimples of Venus. When he started this years ago, he kept losing the brush near her cups, so she gave him help by setting her hair behind her first. He knows it’s almost time to stop when he sees Morpheus stroking her eyelids. A mirror cannot lie, but it also cannot expose whole truths. Every time he finishes and sees her napping, it always hurts because he wants to whisper in her ear. But she’ll never hear him. Instead, he gently blows and she comes back to life.

In their years together, Taylor has been trying to figure out the perfect way to thank Beth. She’ll never know, but she saved his life the moment they first kissed. Under the boardwalk. Neither believe in marriage so it can’t be something as easy or well-worn as a bended knee. So many cars were almost wrecked whenever his mind drifted to the problem of gratitude while he drove. Or when he imagined her getting into an intense signing debate with one of her friends. Their fingers frantically swishing and tapping is strangely soothing to him. Until, of course, they come to him for an opinion. Verbal arguments are hard enough to mediate, but gestural arguments… and Beth doesn’t always sign complete sentences.

Earlier this week, Taylor found his perfect solution, which is the big to do of today. He didn’t sign her anything specific the night before, only that he had a surprise for her. As they get dressed, she slides on his favorite bra and panties. A gift for later, if the shock is good enough. He HATES corduroy, but she LOVES the feel of it. Today’s her day, so he grabs her favorite jacket as they make their way to the car and the day’s mystery.

On the way there, Beth looks out the window as she gets a fingerful of corduroy. Taylor’s focus as he drives is appreciated. Autumn is her favorite time of year, the drowsy trees are a welcome treat for her greedy eyes. As they dance across the passing leaves, she wonders what the surprise could be. They had cake last week, so it can’t be that. Surprise sex gets one arrested. She doubts he finally got around to building her The Matrix. Beth suddenly notices there’re posts for the science museum and for a split-second, she almost believes her last idea. She doesn’t have to look at him to know that he’s angry about paid parking. She can feel his arm tensing under his jacket and signs something encouraging.

Unless a sinkhole ruins everything, Taylor’s plan looks to be going according to… well, plan. Beth would kill him if he tried blindfolding her, so he signs a plea for her to keep her head down as they make their way through the museum. They came early enough so they won’t have to worry about bumping into anyone. A turn, another turn, an escalator, another turn, and a long corridor later, Taylor stops in front of a podium and Beth does the same. He signs her to look up and she’s grateful she’ll never have to pronounce that name. Still, she signs a question about what a Chladni plate is. He takes her hand and places it on a knob in the podium. He then points to a sand-covered square and signs that the plate allows someone to see sound. She doesn’t believe him and he signs her to turn the knob. She does, and the sand suddenly arranges itself into a pattern. She gasps as her hand drops. Beth stares at the plate with a child’s eyes, and she can’t stop a tear from trailing. Taylor signs her that she can make different sounds and patterns. She wraps an arm around the corduroy and reaches for the knob. She turns it for hours, and she never stops smiling.

For those who’re wondering, the Chladni plate is real. If you liked that story and wanted to read something with less science, give my first novel, “Lie”, a read. It’s a surreal dramedy about four women who go on a getaway to help one of their own through a life-changing choice. Here are the first four chapters. If you liked what you read, just look up Rathan Krueger wherever eBooks are sold and “Lie” will pop up for $1.99. Thanks for reading.

Shadow and Threat

This is an essay I’ve written for a contest. The prompt asked what was the bravest thing I’ve done.

    I have a bad time with driving in residential districts. You know, the ones that are endless curves instead of neat lines. I can’t stand them, they’re so easy to get lost in. The only reason I know they exist is because a friend kept asking me to take him to a house lurking in that labyrinth. I could never go alone. There was a summer when every night, I ended up at that house. Some places I could get to an hour away with my eyes closed. But a ten-minute drive…

Some people show their bravery by stepping into burning buildings. Others by taking a bullet. More than a few take their courage dutch. An untold number aren’t able to show any bravery. A few years ago, I was able to break away from the myriad and found the courage to say “no” to two people.

Speaking evil’s name is sometimes enough to invite it back into your life, so I’ll call the parasites “Shadow” and “Threat”. Under normal circumstances, they’d be legacy friends. Someone you’ve known for years and years. I knew them since middle school and high school. But you shouldn’t be friends with someone just because you’ve been friends. At a certain point, I realized that was my only reason.

I’d like to talk first about the passed Shadow. Our legacy friendship started in middle school. Misery loves company, so it’s only fair that we found each other. Well… I was never one to approach people. I would’ve been “content” with being ignored by everyone until either I graduated or a giant robot vaporized them. I was more imaginative than thoughtful in those days.

Shadow saved them from Robo-Smash and for a time, all was good. I had a friend who complimented my geeky tendencies and my quirkier tastes in music. I had a friend who would be the mouthpiece to this quiet guy. I had a friend who slowly learned to exploit my weaknesses to his benefit.

If Shadow didn’t need a ride, he needed gas. I don’t ask much from the universe, but there’s one request that seems to drift past collapsed stars and satellites. A request that Shadow was always willing to pervert into an excuse to get him where he needed to be. A sick and sorry need for companionship, for “her”. And I made the mistake of being loyal.

Some people are too lazy, too afraid, too comfortable to leave a parasite.

This carrot was dangled for the better part of a decade, and led me through most of my state. Eventually across borders. How can someone be so stupid as to allow themselves to be manipulated for so long, for something so simple as a relationship? When you’re told all your life how great you’d be at it, not being able to have one is maddening.

Then one day, I decided to step out of Shadow. I finally saw that I wasn’t going to be much else to him besides a lovelorn taxi. If I was going to be lonely, I could at least not take it out on my car and wallet. When Shadow called the last time, I told him that I at last figured out his tactic. I told him that I was ashamed of the both of us. I told him “no”.

My other broken legacy friend, Threat, and I made our introduction in high school. I always preferred older friends, even if it’s by a year. Art brought us together. Shadow couldn’t draw to save his life and wasn’t a comic reader, so it was great to have someone to talk to about them. Or however much a habitual mute could talk about things.

It was great hanging out with Threat because he had SO many comics and introduced me to one of my favorite addictions: late-night cafes. They’re the best of both worlds. I can reach my quota for being outside and the only person who’ll bother me wants to refill my coffee and give me food. AND I can talk (but mostly listen) about comics. What more could an antisocial introvert ask for?

As time went on, I started wanting to do something with my imagination that went beyond planning the perfect fight between Batman and Spider-Man (it ended up being a short one, and Batman won). I wanted to create comics and films and things. Who better to ask for help than Threat, right? He and I could think of stories that’d blow the world away. The majors would BEG us to work with them on our yachts modeled after ancient Kryptonian technology from Kara-El’s spaceship before the Anti-Monitor went ahead and– We’d be kings of any comic convention we went to and would be given PILES of free comics. Women would dress up as my characters and hug me…

…but this two-man dream only works with two men. As the years went on, Threat went out less and less, until he barely went out at all. He cared less about creating and more about existing. I thought it’d be as simple as buying him a book about how to be creative again. It wasn’t, and soon I wanted to help him create more than I wanted to help us create. But he was always fine with doing nothing at all.

Some people are too lazy, too afraid, too comfortable to leave a parasite.

I’d be a lot farther in life if I was able to see that Threat wasn’t going to change. I’d have much more to show for what I’ve done. I wouldn’t have as much to say in this essay. But I stuck around because I knew what he was capable of, and I hate giving up. I’m also probably afraid of letting go.

Sometimes I… There’s something dangerously comforting about the past, isn’t there?

One day, Threat made a three-pronged mistake. He outright mocked something I created, he made it absurdly clear that he wasn’t going to change, and he said that he’ll profit from my secrets once I’m famous. As stupid as I was for being friends with Shadow for so long, I’d have to be brain dead to have stuck around after that. Sadly, there are people who still wouldn’t walk away after a similar situation. And worse, I know one or two. Maybe me saying “no” wasn’t just for me.

Imagine if we three ended up living together… quelle horreur!

If you want something a little less realistic, give the first four chapters of my novel a read. It’s called “Lie” and its author, Rathan Krueger, wrote it because he wanted to read a story with non-generic women in it. He eventually made one about four women who go on a getaway to help one of their own through a life-changing problem. If you liked what you read, you can pick it up wherever eBooks are sold for only $1.99. Thanks

Walkin’ to My Door, Here She Comes

Nothing much to report on the “Lie” front except that I’m still doing my self-promotion. Later today, I’ll sign up for a Goodkindles ad. They found me on Twitter and as “Robocop” taught me, you gotta spend money to make money. It also taught me to take the stairs. I’ve also got a few friends reading “Lie” so I can get some reviews on sites like Amazon. If anyone would like to read a free copy and review my eBook for a site, I’d be greatly appreciative.

“Tangle Core” and “Murderhounds”. “Tangle Core” and “Murderhounds”. “Murderhounds” is still becoming the harder one to write, and I figured out why yesterday. “Tangle Core” is about two tortured folk. If there’s anything I know, it’s torment. “Murderhounds” is… a bloody popcorn festival. The “problem” is that I don’t wanna treat it like a typical popcorn horror flick. I want the villains to have genuine relationships with each other, for instance. That doesn’t come from an “all characters must be three-dimensional” place because I don’t feel that way at all. Which is why the victims will be pretty two-dimensional. Two-dimensional doesn’t mean boring, just that what you see is what you get. But back to the Murderhounds. I guess the roles of dimensionality are swapped here. Anywho. When I was coming home from seeing “Elysium” (which I hope you all do sometime soon), I got the crazy idea to give each of the Murderhounds a theme song. The film and the idea have nothing to do with each other, it’s just the way the mind works (when it wants to). The best way to describe Lucy is a Gothic Lolita with a giant cleaver. So, in my atypical nature, of course I gravitated to Die Antwoord’s “Fatty Boom Boom” [NSFW]. I can’t tell you how giddy I was when that clicked. Partially because I LOVE the visual of a Goth-Loli running around with that song playing. But also because it clued me into her personality, something I didn’t have a clear idea of until that ride home. It takes a very special person to exist with that criteria. Yesterday, I figured out what the other two characters’ themes were. One’s more typical with the genre and the other’s more typical with the character, both are great choices. I also thought it’d be fun to have songs mix with each other when more than one Murderhound is onscreen. Y’know, a mashup.

I’m preparing my first music video these next two weeks. I have a song from a musician that I’m gonna listen to over and over and over again until I know more about it than most ever will. That’ll help when it comes to plan how it’ll look. After two weeks, rehearsals’ll start and a while after that, I shoot.

Have some time to kill? Why not read the first four chapters of my very first novel. It’s titled “Lie” and it’s by me, Rathan Krueger. It’s about four women who go on a getaway to help one of their own through a rough patch. It was described to me recently as a modern “Little Women”, but methinks that was for giggles. If those chapters tickled your fancy, pick up “Lie” for only $1.99 wherever eBooks are sold. Thanks.

The Fortune (or not)

A man goes to a county fair for no reason in particular. It was a boring Tuesday and he found a $10 bill on the way home. He’s never been to a county fair and figured he wouldn’t really lose anything. He’s not the beacon of socializing most achieve to be. He’d have something new to complain about to his parrot, at least.

He reaches into a pocket as he approaches the entrance and leaves his hand inside with a smirk. “Tuesday is free,” a sign tells him. He rubs the cotton-fiber paper between his hidden fingers as cubes of humanity ignite his despair. “Hit the Bottles”, “Catch the Fish”, “Flip the Frog”, “Whack the Mole”. The demands for his dollar are almost as sad to him as the people clamoring for the carnie gospel.

He stifles a chuckle when he sees what only well-trained doctors would consider a woman sitting on what’s left of a bench. On this cool afternoon, “her” face is a flood of sweat and grease. And “she” has the nerve to wear a thong. He wonders how a “woman” so large could properly wash “herself”. As he stands downwind of “her” while a pleasant breeze passes by, he understands. Not well. The final straw is his realization of of what “she” has been eating all this time. He runs past the oblivious one as “she” takes another bite of “her” basket of fried butter.

He stops near a tree and isn’t sure whether to laugh or vomit at what he saw. He collects himself and looks around the area. “Fortunes Told: $10″. Why not? He goes into the tent and sees a middle-aged woman sitting on the floor. No bead curtains, no gypsy stylings, no crystal ball. Just a woman who still coddles her flower child. She thanks him for visiting and asks about his wife’s parrot. He gives her $10.

He sits in front of her and she holds his hands. She feels like warm velvet, and smells like peppermint. She closes her eyes and slowly tenses. She begins to mumble something… and is shocked into a seizure. Something’s wrong. She won’t let go of him as her eyes roll back, as she becomes pale, as she starts to bleed. She thrashes herself on the floor, still not letting go. In a panic, he bites her wrists and she finally releases him. Lifelessly she lays, until she stares at him with horror and a smile.

“You… you’re going to be loved by the world. You’re going to k… kill us all.”

If you liked this short story, you should read the first four chapters of my first novel, “Lie”, by me, Rathan Krueger. It’s about four women who go on a getaway to help one of their own through a tough time… but it’s really about something more. If you like what you’ve read, you can buy my eBook for only $1.99 wherever they’re sold. Thanks.

Building Blocks (and say hello to my little friend)

The slow and steady pace of self-promoting “Lie” is going, well, slow and steady. Starting next week, I’ll extend my reach a little. The trick is to not be annoying while gaining interest… and it’s such a fine line. But it’s there and I see it. Hi, line.

“Tangle Core” and “Murderhounds” are becoming more and more their own beasts. “Tangle Core” is turning into a film with light David Lynch/Cronenberg touches, and “Murderhounds” is turning into happy hour. With “Tangle Core”, I have to detail its five parts and maybe flesh-out the characters a bit more until I write it. As a short story first, then as a script. “Murderhounds” needs a bit more love because there’s a lot of world-building in it. That and even though it’s the one with the two-dimensional characters, I feel that it needs more details. I have to earn the second half of it and all the blood it contains because I don’t want “Murderhounds” to be a typical… anything, really. Soon, I’ll do character designs of K, Lucy, and Mr. Mischief, along with all the other things my notecard tells (and will tell) me.

I don’t think anyone would peg me for a “Scarface” fan, but I’m a huge “Scarface” fan. If ever I do a remake, De Palma’s “Scarface” will be the example I look at for how to do one correctly. Yeah, the one with Pacino is a remake. The original was made in 1932 by Howard Hawks and is just as great as the 1983 version. Obviously, one’s more polished than the other but they’re still great films. Apart from being the same basic story, they share something else. Both got into a lot of trouble because of the violence. Hawks’ version was banned for a while. “Scarface” looks like it’ll be remade again soon (surprise). I can’t complain too much since, y’know, big fan of the (1st) remake. But. The difference between the Howard Hawks version, the Brian De Palma version, and the 2nd remake is that the first two had great directors working on them. The 2nd remake will have some film school graduate who needs money.

Earlier this week, I watched “Passion” and “The Canyons”. I’m not sure why I watched the latter, but I can say that I’ve seen a Lindsay Lohan film. That counts for something, right? “Passion” was pretty, and pretty good. Today, I watched “Antiviral”. I’m a HUGE David Cronenberg fan and hoped that his son’s first film would be good. I didn’t compare the two while I watched it, but I couldn’t help but make a double-feature of it and “Videodrome” in the back of my mind. “Antiviral” is a great film, if you enjoy slow films. It’s a harsh and unique critique on the cult of celebrity. I’ve also been watching, and falling in love with, “Soul Eater”. It’s been a while since I’ve watched any new anime and the complete series (51 episodes) was on sale at Best Buy for 28 bucks. My taste in… everything veers toward the dark and mature. Which “Soul Eater” is, but it’s on the thinner end. Great fun, and this is coming from a guy who hates fun. My favorite character looks obvious (Death the Kid) but he’s my favorite because he has a legitimately crippling case of OCD. He loves symmetry, and I can relate.

Last night, I got to let off some steam about… a rock in my shoe, and I feel pretty good. Oh yeah. The nights with Edgar Wright, Simon Pegg, and Nick Frost last week were splendid. I’d love to talk about “The World’s End”, but I can’t until it comes out on the 23rd. I may or may not be bragging.

Don’t stop reading now! Check out the first four chapters of my awesome female-led novel, “Lie” by me, Rathan Krueger. Four women are women together without being flat as cardboard or fodder for a guy’s spank bank. And if you like what you read, you can buy the eBook wherever they’re sold. Thanks.