How do you say fuck off in in HTML...?

So, I'm working on a website that probably one in ten folks will visit...deja vu anyone?

I'm still in a pissy mood and it's not going to change for a while. Got a couple of rejections and one freaking antho editor still hasn't replied to my submission after TWO freaking polite queries. This has been going on since February. Gee, now even editors are ignoring my ass. Fucking woe is me.

On the good side, I found hard copy of a story I've always loved that I know was probably rougher than sandpaper 13 years ago when I wrote it but which has always held a particular soft spot in my heart. How awesome to find it buried in my clutter after all those years. And it is rough...but at least it shows how far I've improved, even if no one else gives a short and curly ya know?

Anyway, I've nothing witty to say so I'll go away now.

Who me, bitter?

Gee, time to add another pointless entry that no one will read and people certainly won't comment on. *cracks knuckles*

I'm in a bitchy mood. It's probably a sort of latent depression, fueled by having always been the unpopular kid in school. As an adult, my circle of friends is sparse and I don't have the ability to impress others with my wit. Maybe because I don't have it. I'm too down to earth I suppose. That quality doesn't cause others to faun mercilessly over every little comment that spews forth from my keyboard, either on my blog or anywhere else. I do not impress many folkss--they could care less about my existance. I've fucking gotten used to it.

So herein lies yet another un-commented entry, now added to my ignored and unlinked blog.

Off to my day job. At least they don't ignore me there. Much...

Beer fueled dreams are weird......

So, last night I was a bit ripped. Not so ripped that I wasn't capable of cohesive thought. Um...at least I hope so. Anyway, dreams I have after ingesting alcohol tend to be a bit on the weird side.

So, I'm happily sleeping away and I start dreaming about one story that I stupidly tried to edit before dozing off...it's magic realism and takes place in the desert. Good enough. So I'm in the desert dancing naked with my protagonist, getting really high on the vibes and the concept that the demons we've created inside ourselves can be banished if we only let them when I start dreaming about *another* story I read recently that I really, really adored and was only just telling my best friend Lor about. Sheesh. Might have been fine if the story wasn't steamily erotic. So innocent magic realism got mixed up with a nice bit of erotica. Strange. Could be because I've not had sex in 5 years. Could be because I'm a fucking weirdo. You be the judge.

Made me realize one thing: Man, I really need to get laid soon. Remember that old Marianne Faithful song with the lyrics 'Got cobwebs in my pussy?' That's me. *sniff*

On a totally different note, if you're really into scathing religious satire, visit Landover Baptist Church Laughed so hard I almost peed my pants. The funniest thus far is the Do you have demons in your colon sermon. Another gut buster? Tampons: "Satans Little Cotton Fingers!" Go there--good satire is so hard to find.

Hot Dogs and Smiley's Oh My

So I've been told I don't update this thing enough. So, that's what I'm doing. Today started with me and the kid cleaning furiously. I adore my dog, but I've never met a beagle that shed *constantly*. Spring, summer, fall, winter...the hardwood floor is always covered in generous amounts of dustbunnies filled with dog hair. The leather couch? Covered...the rugs? Well, you get the drift. I finally banned the dog from the bedroom--my nice sage green comforter was simply *covered*.

Once that was done, I got to visit my best friend and wax on about literary stuffs. Showed her my latest publication in Scared Naked Magazine. It's a pretty cool magazine. Unfortunately, the editor has had to put it on hiatus. I hope it's not permanent--he's a good guy and deserves to have this venture work. With so many small press mags going the way of the dodo bird, it would be unfortunate if his did as well--especially after a successful, steady 2 year run of issues.

I drank lots of beer, then feasted on hot dogs and smiley face potato treats. Not exactly haute cuisine but I like it! Then we watched a classic movie from the 70's ('Badlands') followed by a horrid horror film from the 80's. I swear, we could have made a better movie. If we had the funding, we probably would. It annoys me that there are so many shitty movies that were made--in any given decade. Meanwhile, some genius in Hollywood is surviving on weiners and beans and going unnoticed. Sad really.

Which brings me to bad literature. Only in this universe, can Pamela Anderson what-ever-her name-is manage to get a column in Jane Magazine AND a book deal. So some talented guy or gal is again starving and this bimbo with over-inflated flotation devices for boobs gets published? Christ on a cracker--where is the justice!

Yes, I am bitter. Wouldn't you be?

Things that make you go...

Paraphrasing a section of a recent Bush speech in which he was critisizing frivolous malpractice lawsuits:

'There are OB/GYN's across the country who are not able to practice their love with women...' (end quote)

What the FUCK. So this guy might be in office for 4 more years?

This is the same guy who insults Kerry's service record....yes, Kerry who took home 4 medals, who fought for his country while Bush was doing...what? It's never been made clear. We do know that after all this elusive whatever, he then merrily trotted off to Harvard Business School. Good for him.

I'm not a political creature by nature, but come on folks. Let's stop tossing insults at Kerry when Bush keeps opening his mouth and inserting his foot, time after time. Dan Quayle is starting to look almost intelligent by comparison.

Bleary coffee fueled musings...

It's Labor Day for those of us in the US and I'm on my second cup of coffee...yummy. Nothing like a nice cup of hazelnut coffee to get my rusted chassis moving.

I edited a new flash piece and put it up on the review board I use to see if I get any good feedback. I'm worried that the piece will seem gimmicky. It's based somewhat on someone I knew many years ago and came to me very easily. Flash doesn't pay much but I feel like I'm at least doing something.

I also started working on another novel. Rather science fiction like for me and thus far the word count is less than impressive but I'm trying again and that's the important thing...I hope.

One of my more recent and favorite short stories has yet to be submitted for publication and that's my goal today, in between helping the kid clean and rearrange her room. I have a bookshelf in there that's taking up a lot of room. I have too many books. I also hate to give anything away--and I realized today that a major purging is in store. I can't get rid of all my classic Daw editions but I can get rid of older books I barely read or found unfullfilling and never read. Being a compulsive clutter fiend is hard to get over.

Anyway, time to stop procrastinating and get moving here...after another cup of coffee...

Worth It?

A dear, dear friend is in tears and I am, as I stated in my previous post, as blocked as a monkey's ass for ideas or even the energy. Writing is a solitary business friends. But when one has others also unified in this enterprise, you can feel their pain when something goes wrong.

How hard is it to make sure writers are protected, that what they've created is protected? Galleys exist for a reason--and no matter HOW new a writer is, they deserve to see what their creation will look like by the time it reaches print--especially if it will be marketed in a mass publication. We're told to be professionals, and yet the same courtesy is not afforded us. Yes, it bites the big wazoo folks. It's why my friend is in tears and why I am also.

Which leads me to my original question, the subject of this thought bubble. Is it worth it?

Fuck yeah. When I read a story by someone that transports me, or finish something I'm proud of, it's worth it. Words are something more than marks on paper or your screen. Words have power. The power to make me laugh or cry, the power to take me to crazy worlds and allow me to meet curious creatures and horrors. Words let me BELIEVE. And I know this: If I allow my failure to kill that joy, or if my friend never writes again, then the pain will linger like a phantom.

Persevere my friend and I will also. One day, this too shall pass--a cliche, but one that fits. Don't sheath your power because of disappointment but rather use it to cut through the bullshit that life throws at you. My own words remain at the ready, buried somewhere on a slush pile and also in my head. THEY will carry on.

Getting Bloggy With It!

Okay, I've got a blog already via another site, but all the cool folks have one via Blogger and heaven forbid I not join the 'cool kids' ya know?

Besides, now that I've got a case of writer's block tighter than a monkey's constipated ass, it's giving me something to do besides sit in bed and cry like a baby. And I need one that's specifically about my thoughts and writing and...well, thought bubbles.

So, I'm gonna get the hang of this thing and then start spewing forth my inner most thoughts. Hold on to your beer nuts and fasten your seatbelts. Lord knows what I might rant about...