The Saddest Gal In The Library

I have mentioned--much to the chagrin of my many female fans (this is a joke) that there are a heck of a lot of attractive librarians at my work.  There's a stereotype of what a librarian does and what she looks like, but there have been a couple over the years that would give Rachel Weisz in THE MUMMY a run for her money.

That notwithstanding, there is one librarian that I seem to notice every time she comes in, as though it's the first time, and it's not because she's so darned attractive.  No, it's because this girl always looks so sad.

You've heard of Resting Bitch Face, no doubt?  Well, this is the only person I have ever met to have Resting Heartbreak Face.  Every time I see her, I wonder if she was the model for that old Dust Bowl photograph or just stepped out of a screening of SCHINDLER'S LIST.  

Apparently, the photo's title is Migrant Mother, but "Dust Bowl Woman" brought her right up.

At one time, I wanted to make a living with words (life has taught me, however, that a successful writer must have backbone as well as talent), but I'm not capable of expressing just how sad this girl looks, each and every time I see her.  Perhaps I should learn to play the cello or the saw.

Still, I want to just keep on typing, until I convey the depths of despair this gal constantly appears to be in.  I remember an old Leonard Cohen song that went
    Everybody knows the boat is leaking,
    Everybody knows the Captain lied
    Everybody's got this broken feeling
    Like their father or their dog just died.

And that's how she looks, every single day.  Thanks, L. Cohen.

I don't usually do this, but I managed to snap a photo of the librarian in question with my phone.

And nearly every time I see her, I am almost overwhelmed by a desire--jeez, it's so powerful it could be described using the word "lust"--to run over and tell her not to be down, that everything is going to work out alright, and that she has friends she can lean on (not me, of course, I don't even remember her name, but hey, she can lean on me too if she wants to).  There are certainly librarians that are prettier than she is, but if I had the opportunity to give one library employee a hug, it would be her.  Not that I imagine it would help (might even do the opposite), but it would be worth a shot.

I do have to wonder, were she to find out that I wrote this blog post about her, how she would take it.  I've a pretty good feeling it would make her sad.

*I had this idea for a story recently, of a man with the super power (or "super" power, if you want to be that way) of knowing just what anyone in front of him needs to hear.  He doesn't understand the power, it just works.  So, he could approach a stranger and say, "Your sister is alive," or another and say, "It was February 2nd, but not last year," or "Rodman Flender is a great film director," or "Three inches is totally fine," and never know what the comment was about.  But he sees their faces change when they hear it, and knows that, somehow, he made a different (assumedly for good) in their lives.  It doesn't benefit him in any way, unless I want to contrive a way for it to almost get him laid (it's more fun to write about if it doesn't quite work out, but you think it might the next time), but it does turn him into a sort of Good Samaritan, where people will ask him to talk to their soon-to-be ex-girlfriends or errant children, and he somehow says just the right thing.
Of course, once the government learns about what he can do, everything comes tumbling down.  He's placed in increasingly-dangerous situations, used to find out passwords and meeting places and secrets.  And when he inevitably fails at his task, due to, say, not being able to speak Chinese, he finds out that he's only valued by the military as long as he's useful to them.  If only he knew what to say to get them to leave him alone.

Support Abigail Hilton (And Me) On Kickstarter

I recently mentioned that my friend Abigail Hilton has uploaded her novel "Hunters Unlucky" to YouTube, it being the first book I narrated for her years ago.  Well, the reason she did that was to hopefully gain some new fans and to generate interest in her forthcoming novel "Thrive," which she has launched a Kickstarter* to earn funding for.

Basically, Abbie was tired of paying for the audiobook versions of these books herself, knowing it might take years to recoup her investment (years . . . or never), and has decided to make YOU pay for them.  "Thrive" is already written (and indeed, I've already narrated the first section of it), and this is a fundraiser for the digital version of the book, potential physical copies of the book, and yes, a potential audio version, depending on which tiers it reaches.

She's promised to write an extra story that the backers can vote for the subject on, and will probably enlist me to voice sketches, stories (if they take place in the worlds I narrate for her), and bonus material.  She always produces good work, and you can help her reach her goals RIGHT HERE.

*Recently, Big reminded me that the two of us were considering doing a Kickstarter for a story anthology produced by the Dunesteef, hoping we'd earn enough money to pay a couple of our favorite writers to contribute something to.  I had no memory of that (well, very little memory anyway), but we never went through with it because it seemed like a huge amount of work for (potentially) very little reward.  And listening to all Abbie has had to do (and think of) to get her project off the ground makes me wonder if we would have even survived it had we tried.

A Bird In The Hand

You know how reflections on glass works, right?*  Well, often birds don't, and up at the cabin, they will often see the trees or sky in the windows and fly right into them.  Sometimes the birds are alright, sometimes they're not.

This happens literally every other time I come to the cabin.  And today, it happened twice (so far).  I went out back to check the first one, but I was barefoot and if there was a wounded bird lying in the weeds and bushes, I didn't see it.  So I went back inside, and maybe two minutes later, there came a heavy thump right behind me, at one of the two front windows. 

I did go out on the deck to investigate this one.

This one was a pretty yellow bird--though not a canary (I also don't know bird species), and it seemed grievously injured (though not dead).  I felt bad for it, and approached, expecting it to freak out and try to flee.

But this one didn't.  My guess is that it was too stunned to know what to do as this frightening, bad-smelling giant, who can't even finish a blog post (let alone a short story) was creeping up to it.  It did not struggle as I scooped my hand under it, but it stood in my palm as I lifted it toward my face to examine its wound.

Well, it looked very much like it had broken its bill (or jaw, if birds have them), and it looked at me with glassy black eyes as I wondered if a bird would die of the shock of this injury, or die slowly of starvation, which might be worse.

I've explained a time or three about my weird hyper-empathy, which I've had since I was a young child.**  Needless to say, life has beaten some of that out of me, but not all of it (the other night, there was a guy sleeping in a van in the parking lot, and I absolutely AGONIZED over whether I should go over and make sure he was okay.  I didn't want to bother him, and it was none of my business, but what if something was wrong, you know?  So I finally asked my boss what I should do, and he seemed to think it was a trick question.  "You, uh, come in and finish your rounds and we go home."  Ultimately, I went back to my station and zoomed in on the camera to get a good angle (and the license plate) in case the morning guy showed up the next day and found a dead guy there.  Despite the vehicle being gone by the next shift, I still don't think I did the right thing.

Anyhow, the bird didn't seem to be suffering, unless me holding it in my hands was distressing it, and suspecting that, I set it down on the bench next to me.  After a moment, it closed its eyes, which I took as a bad sign.

I got up and went in to get my camera, though I figured I wouldn't do a blog post about it if the bird died, because I don't BELIEVE I have when birds have broken their necks while I'm up here.  But when I returned, the yellow bird was standing up, and after I took a couple of pictures, it roused itself and flew to the tree directly across from the deck, where it hopped from branch to branch, apparently no worse for wear.  I'm happy for it, really.  I had (briefly) considered putting it in a box or something to take it home and see if my niece might want to keep it as a pet (or see if she could keep it), since she's a sucker for abandoned or wounded animals, but honestly, this is better, that it took off and is (presumably) living its life.

I wish I had gotten a picture of it in my hand, though.

Oh, and it pooped while I was holding it.  I didn't mention that bit.  Probably shouldn't have mentioned it here.

 

*Actually, I don't, to be honest.  I'm not very scientifically literate.  I don't know how combustion engines, vinyl records, Slurpee machines, or colostomy bags work, I only know that they do.

**If I haven't told you this embarrassing detail, I used to believe that plants and rocks and fish and Republicans had feelings, and would agonize over which of my stuffed animals to play with, because the ones I didn't would feel left out or abandoned.  And while I'm not NEARLY that bad anymore, I still feel for the homeless or the ugly or the disabled people I see at work, and will allow children at the library to use my phone to call their parents, despite being told not to.  Heck, I even felt sorry for the My Pillow Guy when Jimmy Kimmel was interviewing him and, despite his temper and mental illness, may still have been a human being down deep.    

Rish Outcast 338: In Security 12 (That's Our Guy)

Rish tells more library stories, and worries that being too honest will make him look bad. Has his empathy started to run low?

Case in point: When there came a threat to the building, Rish happened to be the one who was "just sitting there." Is your job as boring as mine?



Care you to download the episode at THIS LINK?

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Swear you to click on THIS LINK?

Logo by Gino "Scare You" Moretto.

Haunted Library Presentation - One Month Off

If you support me on Patreon (and shame on you if you don't), you may have heard that I've been trying to get a "haunted library" presentation to happen at my place of employment for a year now.  When I found out the library was unwilling to pay even a single dollar to the local folklorist/ghost hunter, someone suggested I just do the presentation on my own.

And that appears to be exactly what we're doing, one month from today, with me as the sole presenter (I had arranged it with one of the librarians, thinking we'd present it together, but she seems keen to step back and let me do all the heavy-lifting*).  I have been thinking about what I'll say and which stories I will tell, and we did put out a call for other library employees (and visitors) to share their own experiences, but I imagine I will ad-lib most of it, since to me, it's not that different from podcasting.

I will keep you posted . . . especially if I see any ghosts between now and then.

*Although she did put together a flier promoting the event that showed up last Friday. 

I Discuss "The Measure of a Man" with Marshal Latham and Keith Teklits

 A long time ago, I got together with Marshal Latham and Keith Teklits to watch the extended version of the excellent Star Trek: TNG second season episode* titled "The Measure of a Man."  It's the one where Data goes on trial to determine if he is a person or property.

We discussed the episode for their "Trekkin'" series over at the Journey Into... podcast.  Did I cry?  You have to ask???  And it's been long enough since we recorded it that I look forward to listening to it RIGHT HERE.

*Yeah, the second season IS the worst one.  But even it had some gems in it.

Damned Poltergeist Again

 I was doing my rounds at the end of the night, and I stumbled upon this . . . 

Oh my god.  

Building blocks piled as high as conceivably possible, dangerously so.  This is it, veritable proof of spirits beyond the mortal veil!  Evidence of the afterlife!  And those wandering spirits love playing with Legos!

Or, I suppose, it could've been some kid that did it.  Hmm.

Podcast That Dares 71: Landlady & Skin

Rish performs two Roald Dahl short stories: 1959's "The Landlady," about a young man looking for a boarding house in a new town; and 1952's "Skin," about an old man in Paris with a very unusual tattoo.

To download the episode, just Right-Click HERE.

To support me on Patreon, click HERE.

Logo by Gino "Skinlady" Moretto.

How Do They Know?

So, this one is a little bit weird.  

As you may know, Spock, I am on YouTube way too much.  When I'm working in the morning, when I'm running at night, when I'm driving to the cabin, when I'm trying to go back to sleep after waking up at seven to confer with ye olde china oracle, when I'm in the storage unit fighting the combined sinister forces of entropy and disorganization.  And part of the reason for that is the algorithm, which pitches me videos that it thinks I might like (also, the damned AutoPlay keeps switching itself on every few weeks, showing me one video after another until I remember to turn it off again).  

And advertisements are like that too--the website and/or phone is tracking my preferences, gauging my interests, scrutinizing my habits, and, in certain cases, seeming to be reading my mind.

Look at these two screen-captures from my phone, from different days, different videos.  See anything in common?

Take, for instance, that I keep seeing this ad, at the bottom of whatever I'm watching.  It's this girl, in a black and white striped shirt, with some kind of harlequin makeup on or something . . . and she's, like, exactly all the things I'm most attracted to.  She couldn't be more up my alley if she had a tattoo of Spider-man right below her bellybutton.*

But it gives me pause.  How do they know?

Look, I understand a phone knowing that I like Yu-Gi-Oh cards, and "Knight Rider," and operas about sinners burning in Hell, and kittens dressed in fighting armor, and bikini pictures of Cloris Leachman.  Who doesn't?  But I'm not even sure this person is a real flesh 'n blood girl, or that the algorithm calculated what I would most quickly notice and/or pay attention to, and were it your phone it would've conjured a very different girl, or boy, or old person, or in Marshal Latham's case, Muppet (he is deeply unwell).

And honestly, it doesn't really matter how they know, in the end.  I noticed it one night, I re-noticed a couple of nights later, and I started doing a screenshot every time after that (the accompanying images represent a week or more).  So, in a way, they totally succeeded.  But me thinking a girl in an ad is attractive is one thing (and blogging about it), but me actually CLICKING ON the ad, which I have not yet done, is very different.  So, they haven't really succeeded, have they?

Yet.

*This is true--I'm not really a tattoo guy.  Sorry.

I Narrate "Hunters Unlucky," Now On YouTube

Back in 2013, Abigail Hilton took a chance on a green and hungry audiobook narrator and hired me to perform her first novel, "Hunters Unlucky."

Of course, we fought like creasia and ferryshaft (I still remember her calling me at work accusing me of trying to take the book away from her*), but eventually would come to understand each other.  And we're, like, six "Hunters" books later, and our productions tend to run more smoothly and with less pressure on either side, including this year, when I narrated the first act of her sequel "Thrive."

"Hunters Unlucky" tells of an island of sentient animals that have been at war with the two main species, the ferryshaft (a sort of cross between a deer and a fox, though Abbie may have to correct me) and the creasia (big, ferocious cats).  The main character, Storm, is a young ferryshaft who, despite being small and relatively defenseless, is faster and more agile than his enemies. But Storm will have to be more than fast to survive . . . he'll have to be clever.

It's an excellent book, and while there are many follow-ups, this one stands alone as a self-contained epic adventure.  And while there are a few things I would change, were I narrating it now, I am immensely proud of my performance in it (and would take far longer to do the book today than then, despite a decade of learning since then).  And though the later books get far more adult, this first one is pretty universal, though there's plenty of good old fashioned violence throughout.

Abbie has a sequel in the works she would like to raise money for via Kickstarter, but you can listen to all twenty-four hours of "Hunters Unlucky" RIGHT HERE over on YouTube.  Let's see if you're fast enough to survive.

*Which has literally happened to her in the years since then, with strangers downloading her audio and then trying to sell it as though they owned it.

Rish Outcast 337: What It's All About

Big Anklevich joins Rish for his new sketch "What It's All About." A father and son drive along, contemplating the meaning of songs.

Wikipedia may disagree, however.

Remember, you can download the file by Right-Clicking HERE.

Don't forget, you can support my Patreon by clicking HERE.

Logo by Gino "All About What It Is" Moretto.