Blog 5/13 & 5/14

5/13

Satan is his father, not Guy!*

Okay, so today's creepy spam folder email was "German Sex Industry Penis Ritual Leaked!" . . . which is pretty gross, if you think about it.

Today, I heard that actor Fred Ward died, and I thought, "He was the guy in TREMORS, right?"  But then I thought, "What else was he in?  Is he the same guy you're thinking of?  Is he the guy who directed EVIL TOONS?"*  So I had to make sure.  Ward was indeed in TREMORS (and its first sequel), THE RIGHT STUFF, and ESCAPE FROM ALCATRAZ.

Remember what I said yesterday about my goal to depict a positive step-child relationship in one of my stories?  I know this doesn't count, but I had a stepfather do the the Heimlich maneuver to save a kid's life in "Balms & Sears" today.  Oh, it's now at 42,000 words.

Writing or Exercising: Writing

5/14

My nephew (the four year old) has baseball (that I take him to), soccer (that his dad takes him to), and breakdancing.  Yeah, breakdancing.  The other day, my sister asked if I wanted to go to his dance recital on Saturday afternoon.  I declined.

I can't imagine a breakdancing recital would be at all enjoyable, especially with how unenjoyable the kid's preschool "graduation" was a couple of days ago. 

But my aunt had some flooding in her room when it rained the other day, so she couldn't go to the recital today, and that left an extra ticket, so rather than let it go to waste, I went along.

It wasn't unenjoyable.  Some of these kids were pretty coordinated and talented, and many were obviously having a good time, so that was impressive.  My nephew's a good looking kid, but other than that, he didn't have much to offer.  When his group finally got their five minutes on stage, all the kids stood in a circle and took turns doing their dance, and my nephew didn't get a turn.  

Still, do I talk about the girl with the facial deformity that was up there dancing with the rest of them?  That made me feel a bit more positive toward the human race (most of the time, I'm disgusted I can still be disgusted at my age).

Now that the weather is warm, I really need to go running at night again, and instead of listening to YouTube, I need to put on music, like I did two years ago.  I could count on the run making my creative juices flow, and there were many times I'd get home sweaty, but eager to jot down a few sentences (and sometimes more).  Last night, I had intended to go running, but my nephew had his friend over, the TV on in the living room, but both of them watching their phones, and experience has taught me that that can go on until two or three in the morning.  So I sat down to edit the "Hatchling" audiobook (which should've been finished MONTHS ago), and ended up falling asleep.  Ah well.

My eleven year old nephew was watching TV in the living room around the time I normally watch "Saturday Night Live," and so, impressively enough, I chose to go on another run tonight instead.  As I said above, I usually listen to YouTube, but I purposely just put music on, hoping it would inspire me to write.  It didn't . . . but the music gave me more of a drive to go faster and harder than I usually do.  I did the whole usual route in less time than I have been.

Writing or Exercising: Both

*For more than thirty-five years, I've known that quote, and for that long, I've been getting it wrong.  I've said, "Guy is not his father . . . SATAN IS HIS FATHER!" pretty much my whole life.  But when I watched ROSEMARY'S BABY again this past winter, I discovered I'd had it backwards (my version sounds better).  Out of curiosity, I went onto YouTube tonight to see how it's actually said in the movie, and someone had uploaded that final scene.  And it really upset me, more so, even than it did in the context of the movie five months ago.  There's something so heartbreaking about the way that movie ends (and brave, making me wonder if the recent remake ended the same way), that it moved me to sloppy, unmanly tears.

**No, that was Fred Olen Ray, director of such masterpieces as HOLLYWOOD CHAINSAW HOOKERS, BIKINI FRANKENSTEIN, BABY DOLLS BEHIND BARS, and THE GIRL WITH THE SEX RAY EYES . . . who, sad to report, is still alive.