Strong Island

Here is a picture of my son with his great-great-great aunt Venus. She is my great-grandmother's sister:


Yup, I'm writing from that Long Island enclave of Ikarian blue-zoners. I got here a few days ago, just after Christmas. I had two weeks of bachelorhood as Big O and Little O went East before me. So, bed in the living room, music 24/7, five different versions of A Christmas Carol (most of which I loved*) in one night on TCM, a completed short story and a pitched, researched, and finished essay, lots of eating out and kettlebells, a return to jujitsu class and all that other fun stuff. But now we're back together having different kinds of fun, though I'll be up in Danbury teaching a workshop and giving a talk and a reading for two days before heading back to California.

Baby's much improved, well over nine pounds. He has charmed all his relations. New Year's Eve is feeding him, while doing some work for Team Rocket from afar. I still have to write my talk, which is about self-publishing. I have the sneaking feeling many of the students in attendance are hoping for the secret to making a million bucks doing just that. Dare I simply get up on stage, say the words "Bigfoot Porn" and then step down? Stay tuned for more adventures in 2014!












*And thanks to Turner Classics, I finally found a version I didn't like. A Carol for Another Christmas is basically a paean to liberal imperialism, and as the visits from the ghosts don't closely relate to the protagonist's own past experiences the whole thing feels like an extended finger-wag. Nor is there much Christmas Morning joy to be had in a conversion to...being in favor of the United Nations. Easily the worst thing Rod Serling ever wrote that actually made it to the screen.