6/27 to 6/29

 6/27

On Saturday, a new toy store opened in the mall, and I went over there to check it out.  It was very small.  So small, that I stood outside with my fellow neckbeards, waiting for my turn to go in.  I saw an older man sitting at a table a ways off, and realized it was George A. Romero, the famous Horror director.  

Of course, it might have been my mistake, since I ran into the zombie filmmaker at the Beverly Center mall one afternoon in 2004, so all bearded old dudes look like Romero to me.  Also, I could be wrong because George Romero died in 2017.

Every month I record an address for my Patreon supporters (usually the last couple of days of the month, so I can get it edited and posted by the first or second), and every time I try to talk about something interesting that happened to me or is going on in my life (for example, the night I was having a conversation with my brother in Las Vegas, and suddenly, he had a stranger's face, and was just speaking in my brother's voice*).  But I'll be jiggered if I can come up with something today.  I started the recorder, and about a minute later, turned it off again.  There's got to be SOMETHING cool or unusual I can talk about. 

I was actually getting into my writing tonight when they flashed the lights and did the crashing announcement that is like somebody dumping ice-cold water on your scrotum and four in the morning (or similar to it, anyway, it's been a while for me).  I don't do my word count anymore, but I'd say I managed five or six hundred words (and would've managed more, had I not gone online to see which of Crosby Stills & Nash was still alive, then spent ten minutes reading about Stephen Stills's and Graham Nash's solo careers (I honestly didn't know Nash had been with the Hollies before now).  But that's why I go to the cabin on Wednesdays, so I don't have access to Wikipedia.

Writing or Exercise: Writing

6/28

I thought LIGHTYEAR was pretty good.  Not great, but certainly not bad enough to lose Disney fifty or more million dollars.  Mostly, I found it strange that it so underperformed, where other movies (like DOCTOR STRANGE 2, TOP GUN 2, and surely, MINIONS 3 will) overperformed.  But hey, if there was a formula to this, then no films would lose money.  And we'd be on our fourth "John Carter of Mars" installment.

Writing or Exercise: Both (if you count push-ups as Exercise)

6/29

I went out, as I do every time I come here, onto the dam to do my run, and it was a little brighter out, a little warmer, the sun low in the sky but still shining, the air crisp from a rainstorm earlier, and I did my usual jog from one side of the dam to the other.  I've mentioned that the high elevation (in "Hatchling" I believe I used the word "edevation," and wrote that, for some effed-up reason) makes running difficult, as well as my own out-of-shapeness . . . but as I was running, Bill Conti's "Gonna Fly Now" from ROCKY started to play, and wouldn't you know, I suddenly got a burst of purely-psychological energy, and I ran flat-out the last bit of the jog.  And for a second there, I almost felt like I COULD fly.  I guess I'm slowly learning that life is okay.

Oh jeez, I almost forgot.  As I gave it all I had at the end of the run . . . my shorts fell down.  

Writing or Exercise: Exercise

*I didn't talk about that on my blog, for fear that somebody would say that their cousin or uncle had that happen to them, right before he drowned himself in the toilet of a Chevron station two blocks from his house.  See, I'd rather hear that kind of bad news from someone who pays a couple of bucks to know my secrets and hear my stories.

Marshal and I Recap The Star Wars Celebration (Part 1)

Can't get enough Star Wars Celebration talk?  Well, take it from two of us that were there.  Over at the "Delusions of Grandeur" podcast, Marshal Latham and I talk about the first day or so of Celebration 2022.

It's the fourth-best thing to being there.

6/26

Finishing up "Hatchling," I decided it was time to do a new About the Author.  I don't know why, since I did one in 2019, one in 2020, and--you guessed it--one in 2021.  But it doesn't hurt me to record a new one every year.  I just wish I published stuff more often than I do.  Ah well.

I really went all out as far as exercise today.  I hadn't gone to the park with the stairs a single time this year, so I told myself as soon as I'd finished recording a chapter of my audiobook, that I'd drive over there, and do the stairs at least three times.  The sun was shining and it was warm, but I jogged to the stairs and went all the way up . . . then gasped for air a while.  I went back down and did three cycles, and then ran all the way around the park and to the other set of stairs, which I never use (it's right by the road, so people can actually see you doing them).  I went up to the top, gasped a couple of times, then staggered back down them (I wonder how many people stumble and face-plant every year participating in such a stupid activity), and jogged all the way back to my car.  I was drenched in greasy sweat when I sat down, and my face was all red in the mirror, in a way that sexy people never look.

I went to the service station and bought myself the first Slurpee of the year (hopefully not the last, though), and was shocked to find that they're two dollars now. 

However, at the end of the night, when I'd finished with all of my eBay auctions, I put on my shoes and went for a run, despite not having to do any more exercise today.  I'd be proud of myself if my shirt wasn't sticking to my back as I type this.

In other news, Abigail Hilton contacted me tonight to send me the contract to record her next book "Arcove's Bright Side."  It's the longest project I will have done since "Hunter's Unlucky," the first book I did for her (which was so long I was no longer able to use the toilet afterward).  I will keep you posted.

Writing or Exercise: Both

Rish Outcast 224: Newfound Fame 3

Somehow, Ernst Hillerman has drawn the notice of the Brown Depths Monster. Which is not good.

Also not good?  I've decided to split "Newfound Fame" into FOUR episodes instead of three. I blame the curse.

To download the file, Right-Click HERE.

To support Rish over at Patreon, Left-Click HERE.

Logo by Gino "Newfound Shame" Moretto.

6/24 & 6/25

6/24

While at the cabin, I opened a dozen or so of my "Hatchling" files and raised the volume.  Today I uploaded ten of them, and every one passed their QC on the first try.  Amazing (or "amazeballs" as my cousin like saying).  The entire audiobook is now at 2 hours and 3 minutes.

I went to the library today, and worked way too little on the washing machine story.  But I take solace in the thought that, if George R.R. Martin wrote as much on his "Winds of Winter" book as I do on mine (whether "Balms & Sears" only, or everything), I'd have finished it years ago.*

Writing or Exercise: Both

6/25

I watched "Columbo" last night instead of doing anything productive.  I had intended to record another chapter (or two) of "But Now I'm Found," but I chose the quick and easy path, as Vader did.  Sorry.

I did get all the "Hatchling" files up on Audible (one was the wrong bandwidth and one was a smidge too quiet).  All I have to do is click the Approve For Sale button, and it's out of my hands forever, thank Buddha.

It occurred to me a day or two ago that one of my goals for 2022 was to put out an Outcast episode for my story "Caller ID," which is the one where the kid gets a call from his adult self every year on the same day.  I had figured to publish it on my birthday, so I could remember to put out another installment every year at the same time . . . but I've done nothing on it in 2022, and now there's only two weeks left.  I really need to get on that in the next week, so I can edit the story one Wednesday and the episode the next.  It's totally doable, if I but try.

As I was heading into the library, I saw a stranger waving right outside the door.  He seemed to be wearing a winter sweater for some reason.  Since he was a stranger, I didn't think he was waving at me, but when I got to the door, it became clear that he had been waving at me, and that he was a homeless guy who wanted a handout.  I told him "Sorry" and went inside.  I thought about him, though, wearing a cardigan in nearly ninety degree heat, and I felt bad for him.  Less than an hour later, when they kicked everybody out, I told myself I'd give the guy a dollar if he was still there, since I was just going to spend it on soda anyway.**

I wrote for about twenty minutes (maybe twenty-five) on "The Washer Whispers."***  It's a fun story.  I've decided the main character is my age, but a grandfather, so I don't know if he qualifies as a Geriatric Protagonist or not. 

You know where this is going, obviously, but yes, when I left the library and looked for the sweatered homeless man . . . he was already dead. 

Writing or Exercise: Both

*I know I talk about this almost endlessly, but I don't understand how he could have had a dozen chapters finished in 2016 (and eleven of those are the ones he released to the public), and still not have it done.  He said he wrote "hundreds of pages" of it during 2020 alone, and yet here we are with no book.  At this point, it wouldn't surprise me to hear that the real George Martin died a decade ago, and there are conspirators keeping it a secret.

**Both Marshal and Big have recently given up soda, so that gives them ridiculously-elevated moral high ground, but I'm here to tell you that soda is up there as one of the great things you can spend your money on, and if I spend a single day of the rest of my life without a soda to drink, then that's a day that's surely wasted.

***I might have to change that.  Marshal Latham mentioned the other day that he thinks "Newfound Fame" should've been titled "The Curse of the Brown Depths," and he may be right.  All I know is I've never thought "Newfound Fame" was a perfect title, even though I like thestory quite a bit (support me on Patreon, and the final episode is already available there).

My Voice on "Deathly Fog" on HorrorAddicts

Once again, Emerian Rich has tasked me with voicing a character or two on the HorrorAddicts podcast.  This time, it's "Deathly Fog," by Adam Breckenridge.  I get to do a kid character, horrified at a supernatural fog that changes those that breathe it in.  It's a story in a whole episode with a fog theme.

Check it out HERE!

Rish Performs "Man-size In Marble" on Tales of Terror

You know me, right?  You know that, if somebody asked, I'd do a story reading for them for free, as long as they gave me time to get it done, of course.  But recently, Tales of Terror contacted me to perform "Man-size In Marble," a short story I'd never heard before.*  And when I looked it up, and found that it was written by Edith Nesbit, well, between you and me . . . I would've paid them to narrate it.

A year or so ago, I had no idea who E. Nesbit was.  And then I got to reading her short stories, and now, well, I'm so much a fan that I am considering putting out a collection of my readings of her stories, in case anybody's interested, even if it profits me nothing.  Because wow, these stories really, really speak to me.  The most recent one I recorded, "From the Dead," was so good and so accessible, that I was able to go from beginning to end, not ever having read it before, with a grand performance that's probably my best audio work (at least as short stories go).

Check it out HERE.

*Of course, the story they sent me was the wrong one, so I had to track down "Man-size In Marble" myself, so as to make their deadline.

6/22 & 6/23 Blog

6/22

Even though I stayed up really late last night, I woke before my alarm this morning, and though I didn't want to get out of bed, I remembered that I had all the audio edited for my book "Hatchling," but had never uploaded it.  So, I thought I'd at least start the process.  By the time my alarm went off, I had three chapters uploaded--three acceptable chapters, I mean, after uploading approximately fifteen of them.  When I go to the cabin this afternoon, I'll maybe open up all my files and increase the volume on every one, which will help (but surely a few will still fail their QC and I'll have to make them even louder).

To my horror, even though today is the second-longest day of the year, it started getting dark around seven o'clock.  Not sure what's up with that (last night, it was about 9:04 or so).  Somehow, it was in the fifties when I drove up to the dam and did my run, and there were a bunch of people on the lake, fishing and hanging out with their kids/grandkids.  Even so, I did better running the dam this time than the last few, so I'm either getting stronger, or I'm further away from the summer cold thing I had in May.*  I also did some jump-roping when I got home, but I did it on gravel, and that kept jamming up the works.  In a perfect world (not even a perfect one, just a slightly better one), I'd exercise every time I came here, to the point where in October or November, I'd have seen a real improvement in my physique).

I watched GILDA, with Rita Hayworth and Glenn Ford.  It was really amazingly photographed, and Hayworth is like watching the greatest special effect ever created . . . but I can't really say I understood what was going on throughout, and was left absolutely dissatisfied in the end (Gilda and Johnny, the main characters, are in love, but seem to genuinely hate each other, to the point where Johnny says, "Where could he find another woman like you?  Anywhere.  There's more women in the world than anything else, I'm told.  Except maybe insects."  I'm paraphrasing, but he says it with such utter contempt that I believe he believes it.  Heck, the movie makes us believe it too).  

Writing or Exercise: Exercise

6/23

A new day.  The weather is absolutely perfect, with a constant cool breeze and enough sunlight to fry Lilith the Daughter of Dracula.

I haven't seen a single woodchuck this visit, whereas they were everywhere last week, crawling on the deck, in the grass, pooping and peeing everywhere, and making noises under the stairs.  There were three ground squirrels in the traps my brother had set, one dead and two alive.  I released the live ones--we don't really have a beef with them like we do with the rockchucks, that burrow and gnaw and defecate around the cabin like it's Cinco de Mayo--but it would've been nice to catch a badger.  The weeds have sprouted up so high in the past two weeks that you couldn't see them scurrying around if they were out there.

There was a neat phenomenon as it rained a couple of times when the sun was still shining brightly (the devil's wife had pushed him too far, apparently), even though this is the Rockies and not the Tropics.  I went out on the deck and watched it, and wished someone else could see it too.  But hey, nobody else was around . . . otherwise, I'd have put on pants at some point.

I recorded a story and did an episode about it, watched about half of a movie, read the first two chapters of a book, and then figured it was time to pack up and leave (the rain made it get dark early, though not as early as yesterday, when there was no rain, but it was still dark at seven o'clock [??]).  I have to drive out of the valley, then through the canyon to the town below before I get cellphone service, and when I do, I usually pull over to read the texts my Cousin Ryan has sent me (last week, it was about Tim Sale dying--Ryan is usually the dude to tell me who's died).  Because of the semi-darkness, the deer were out in full on the side of the road, and that always freaks me out (at least they weren't CROSSING the road, though, which is way worse), but I managed to record another podcast anyway.  

All in all, not a bad day at the cabin.

Writing or Exercise: Exercise

*It was one of those things where my sense of smell absolutely disappeared for a couple of days, and only recently has returned (although my sense of taste was never diminished).

Blog 6/21

Today is the longest day of the year.  Not sure why we don't celebrate it here, but we do celebrate other things.  Why don't we observe Siblings Day (April 10th) or First Contact Day (April 5th), but we do celebrate St. Patrick's Day and Arbor Day?

It was the first Tuesday in months I haven't gone to the library (yesterday was a holiday, so they were closed).  But hey, there was a family get-together a few towns over, and I chose to go to that instead.  I should've made myself run around the block, though, like I used to.

Heck, maybe I will.

I did, in fact, go running during the day for the first time this year (the ones at the cabin don't count--they kind of have to be during the day).  I've mentioned before (heck, after blogging daily for seven hundred days, I've mentioned EVERYTHING, from hemorrhoids to having an opera singer for a neighbor) that I'm super self-conscious when I run, and have been heckled a couple of times from teenaged buttholes passing me in their trucks (or truck . . . could it have been the same teens all three times?).  But that has happened at night as well, not to mention the dudes (or dudettes, for you feminist spies out there, I suppose a girl could be a butthole) that were driving in the wrong lane right there where I was running around the corner on two different occasions (same dude?).  But I couldn't go to the library, so I ran, which is better than nothing (though not as good as in 2020 when I would do both every Tuesday) before going to meet my cousin.

As far as that went, "Obi-Wan Kenobi" ended, and the last episode wasn't too bad, but the show is ultimately inconsequential, ultimately kind of pointless.  It's like "Encounter at Ord Mantell" or "Caravan of Courage" to the Star Wars saga as a whole.

Once again, "Strange New Worlds" was excellent.  I honestly don't know how they do it.  Pound for pound, it's the best Star Trek we've ever had.  

A couple of weeks ago, I was talking to Marshal Latham (who had watched "Discovery," unlike me), and asked about Spock's relationship with his father and mother (as well as the sister with the terrible name that was the star of the show), and at some point I said, "I wonder if they'd ever mention that Sybok exists."  He doubted it, same as me, and I said, "If it were my show, I'd introduce Sybok, and explore the relationship of the two brothers, and how Spock longs to be the perfect Vulcan, even though his heritage prevents that, and how Sybok longs to be human (or human-like) despite being full-blooded Vulcanian."  To my surprise (and utter delight), in the most recent episode, they teased a future appearance by the erratic and dangerous older brother (Spock calls him his father's illegitimate son).  I totally believe it is possible to redeem that character, and make him into a villain to be feared.  Stranger (new worlds) things have happened.

Writing or Exercise: Exercise

I Narrate "What Cats & Dragons Do" on CatsCast

What does it profit a narrator if he should gain a new audience (and performing fee) yet loses his own soul?

Not sure where that quote comes from (think it might have been an old "Peanuts" cartoon), but it certainly applies to my performance of "What Cats (and Dragons) Do" by KT. Bryski over at the CatsCast podcast, a show that runs only stories about cats.  

It's about a sly cat who tricks a big, naive dragon into doing his bidding, and unfortunately, the voice I chose to do for the dragon did a real number on my voice.  But them's the breaks and why they pay me the big buck.

Check it out HERE.

Oh, and I did get to make a reference to Rum Tum Tugger in my author introduction that the poor host was (pretty much) forced to read.  So that's fun.

6/17 to 6/20

6/17

Post lost.

Writing or Exercise: Writing

6/18

Post lost.

This was the first time in memory there was a Saturday when I didn't go to the library.  There was a reason, but I'm not sure what it was.  

I went to the local thrift store, where I look for action figures and never find them, and saw a big deluxe release of the 1995 PRIDE & PREJUDICE mini-series.  I took a selfie with it to send to Big Anklevich. 

A dude saw me taking a picture with it and asked me what I was doing*, so I gave him a three-sentence version of my trials and tribulations with that movie.  I must not have been too convincing, though, because he then commented, "She's right: you ARE a asshole."

Friendship is magic, kids.

Writing or Exercise: Exercise

6/19

It was Father's Day, and a bunch of family met up at my mom's house to celebrate.  And because my brother and I don't have kids, we got to cook the food (he's got something called a smoker, which is like a barbecue grill, and my mom has one too).  He told me about his trip to the cabin, shooting the big old woodchucks, and being surprised by how tough they were.  He said he slaughtered seven of them, and not just the males, but the women, and the children.  He hates them.  And we'll see how many of them I find scurrying about on Wednesday.  Also, he bought two new traps and laid them out where I said I saw the two badgers.  That will be interesting too.

6/20

Well, this is vexing.  I went to my blog file . . . and it was empty (it wasn't yesterday when I was writing on it, though).  I've been writing in it every day for the past two months . . . and it's empty.  I don't know how these things happen.

Guess I won't be catching up on my daily blog after all.  I wrote about the new story idea I had, wrote about the list of names Big Anklevich gave me, wrote about watching a forgettable episode of "Star Trek" that was moving and excellent enough I thought I'd wax poetic about it for an hour or so, and wrote about the death of artist Tim Sale (who did me a Gwen Stacy sketch years ago for no charge).

The first time this sort of thing happened, I was heartbroken.  The tenth time it happened, I was angry.  Now that we're fifty times in, yeah, it sucks, but I'm pretty numb to it.  I'm displeased that hours of my free time were wasted, but it doesn't affect anybody else, and it's really only me that cares whether I write or exercise every day.  Maybe I'll just stop writing it up for a while, stew in my bitterness.  Or maybe I'll just start writing my blog posts as individuals instead of one big thread.

Writing or Exercise: Exercise

*I suspect he thought I was taking a picture of him, even though I had the DVD clearly framed behind me.  You know how it is.

Rish Outcast 223: Newfound Fame 2

The story of Ernst Hillerman at his first horror convention continues . . . and the horror becomes a little too real.

To download this cursed file, Right-Click HERE.

To support Rish on Patreon, Left-Click HERE.

Logo by Gino "Newfound Aflame" Moretto.

6/15 & 6/16

6/15

Every Wednesday morning, my buddy Jeff calls me from Germany and we talk about the newest episode of "Strange New Worlds."  He watches "Star Trek" on Mondays, and I watch it on Tuesdays.  And we chat about each excellent show, like friends do, I suppose.  There's a lot wrong with me and my life, but for this, I'm pretty darn grateful.

I arrived at the cabin to find nothing changed from last week (which tells me nobody, not even my brother, had visited over the weekend), but there was evidence of a presence, as there were several large chunks of animal dung around the back door and all along the deck, including a thick puddle of congealing animal pee on the welcome mat.  To my (lack of) surprise, there was a family of woodchucks that came out from under the deck to investigate my presence, and my dog, were they bold, not bothering to run when they saw me, and even welcoming their mid-sized adolescent child out to take a look at the big-nosed human who was trying to sweep away their now-hardened dung chunks.  If my brother were here, oh, they'd be afraid to stick their heads o--

No, scratch that.  If my brother were here, they'd already be dead.  

I watched THE GIVER for Marshal and me to review, and with no internet, I couldn't know how well the movie did and/or if it was well-received (or how close it hewed to the source material).  Welcome back to 1992, kids.

Writing or Exercise: Exercise

6/16

I didn't go into how I felt yesterday, shooting at those woodchucks, filled with a strange antipathy for them that rapidly fled when I actually hit one of them.  I felt guilty for hours . . . but today, when I went out on the back porch, I found that the rodents had climbed onto my reading chair during the night and left three fresh black craps on it . . . a taunt if I've ever seen one.  And worse, while I was out shoveling, I saw the one I'd shot yesterday alive and well, scurrying around the woodpile instead of lying dead down in darkness (like I had imagined all yesterday evening).  Again, I wished my brother were here.  He has absolutely no tolerance (much less empathy) for dumb animals . . . perhaps for people either.

I sat down and recorded a story I wrote around 2003 called "Hero Worship" last night, and found it RIDDLED with incomplete punctuation and at least half a dozen typos.  Unfortunately, the file was so old that the only way my laptop could read it was after I'd saved it as a .pdf . . . and that meant I couldn't go in and fix the errors.  Whoopie.  The story itself was quite bad, but served as a pretty vivid picture of what living in Los Angeles was like, including a few details I'd forgotten years ago.  For that reason itself, I'm happy I wrote it.  Maybe somebody else will enjoy it too.

I went out to shovel gravel for a while, just like I did last summer (except I'm in worse shape this year, so I got tired after only two wheelbarrowloads), and while doing so, I thought about a new opening for my ever-forthcoming "Sins of a Sidekick" book.  When I came in, after only three loads, I sat down and jotted down a couple of paragraphs for it.  It didn't exactly get me back into the mindset of the Ben Parks/Lean Rider world, but it's better than nothing.*

Writing or Exercise: Both

*Wouldn't mind having that on my tombstone.

6/12 - 6/14

6/12

Post lost. (I wrote about it on the 20th)

Writing or Exercise: Exercise

6/13

Post lost.

I bought a poster at the Star Wars Celebration, and went to two different craft stores to see if I could get a frame for it.  At Michael's, the frame was $54.99 but they were having a Buy One Get One Free sale on the frames, and at JoAnne's, they had a nice one for $49.99, and a cheaper one with just plastic for $39.99.  I didn't buy any of them because I thought eBay or Amazon might have them cheaper*, but all of it was too much, especially for how much I'd spent for the poster.  I figured it would join the legions of other posters I've bought over the years, that remain undisplayed, plenty still in rolls in the corner of the room.

But then I thought I'd go to the thrift store down the street.  It always has posters and stuff, and while the size I was looking for is rare (it's super long and super thin), I bought a frame that, while too wide, actually seems like a pretty good substitute.  It had a poem in it that had obviously been given to some lady's mom, and dollars to donuts, that mom is now dead.  But I took out the backing, reversed the poem, and put my poster inside it.  It didn't work exactly right (I think I'd need to secure it to the cardboard better), but it's okay for what I wanted.

I had intended to put it up at the cabin, as I vowed last year (to gradually replace John Wayne images with Star Wars ones), but I was afraid to (and the smoke from the fireplace is apt to damage it, right?).  So instead, it sits in the corner, just in a frame rather than a roll.

Writing or Exercise: Writing

6/14

Rest of post lost.

Oh no, the horror of realizing I like the "Ms. Marvel" series more than "Obi-Wan Kenobi."  

Even so, the OWK episode tonight was pretty good.  It's interesting because two weeks ago I was complaining about how Obi-Wan was the weakest Jedi we'd ever seen in any of the movies, weaker even than when Alec Guinness played him and Vader said, "Your powers are weak, old man," but last night I had pretty much no problem with Vader being more powerful by far than we've EVER seen him before . . . but these things are relative, I suppose.*

Writing or Exercise: Writing

*They did have cheaper options, but the shipping actually made the prices worse--which I totally understand, shipping is a be-otch.

**I also said (or thought) that at Star Wars Celebration, Ahsoka Tano in "The Siege of Mandalore" was the most powerful Jedi I had ever seen, including those silly Tartakovsky "Clone Wars" cartoons where they could fly.  Power is relative, isn't it?

My Voice on "Audition" on HorrorAddicts

Once again, my voice is in a story over at HorrorAddicts.net.  Emerian Rich is a tireless podcaster, producing in a month what I manage in about half a year, and she keeps using me to voice male characters in the stories she runs.  This one was called "Audition" and was written by Naching T. Kassa.

It's about a young man trying out to be part of a Rock band, but finding out there's a particular supernatural requirement for joining.  Check it out HERE.

Oh, and Emz always puts how many days remain till Halloween on each post.  And that's something I can really get behind.

I keep thinking of asking her to narrate my story "A Gallon A Day," which is a female POV parody I wrote at the end of 2020, but I haven't dared yet.  It's not like she intimidates me as much as mean old Julie Hoverson does, but I keep chickening out.

6/10 & 6/11

6/10

I drove past a closed business today, and noticed some graffiti on a parking space.  I didn't really catch what it said, but I drove by again, and had to stop.

Somebody had written "Slut One" on a parking spot.  I tried to get my head around that.  Is it a designated spot for someone?  Does a certain person always park there?  Was that certain person parked there when the vandal decided to personalize the spot?  Of course I will never know, but it made enough of an impression on me that I stopped and took a picture.  I don't know why.

I came to the library for an hour or so tonight, and worked VERY LITTLE on "Balms & Sears."  Like I said yesterday, my heart's not been into writing much this month, and I keep meaning to sit down and record the rest of an audiobook, which I always count as writing, since it's basically rewriting.  But tonight, Ryan and I are going to go see JURASSIC WORLD 3, and though I've heard it's not good, I'm hoping I like it anyway.

Writing or Exercise:  Writing

6/11

I stayed up late last night watching old "Columbo" episodes.  They're really good, but I probably should have done some recording instead.  I'll try to do that tonight.

Today was the hottest day of the year (so far).  My cousin hates the heat with the fiery passion of . . . well, an average August day in Phoenix, but even I felt it today and yesterday, as the temperatures soared to nearly a hundred.  Of course, as Harry Truman famously said, "If you can't stand the heat, well, roll around on the ground until the fire's out, for God's sake."

Writing or Exercise:  Writing

Marshal and I Review THE ADAM PROJECT

Do you have Netflix?  Did you see Ryan Reynold's newest flick, THE ADAM PROJECT?  Well, so did Marshal Latham and I.  And if you're interested in hearing me complain about the (perfectly-cromulent) movie for an hour, check out THIS LINK over at the Outfield Excursions podcast at the Journey Into... page.

Blog 6/6 to 6/9

6/6

I'm going to try to get some writing done on "Balms & Sears," the first I've managed since the Star Wars Celebration.  Tonight, Marshal and I are finally going to sit down to record an episode or two about our trip (my cough is pretty much gone, but I still had to stop and catch my breath when I went running last night).

Writing or Exercise:  Writing

6/7

We watched the latest episode of "Star Trek: Strange New Worlds," and again, an excellent episode.  I don't know how they managed it--except for the Original Series, no "Trek" has had this great a first season, and so consistent.  It's not really fair to watch "Obi-Wan Kenobi" afterward, since that show is so thoroughly average.

Writing or Exercise: Writing

6/8

Here I am, back at the cabin already.  You'd think I'd have everything figured out by now.

I've seen so many deer today, probably because there aren't so many people around as there were Saturday.  At one point, I was watching the family of deer next door when I saw movement low to the ground.  I thought it was another rock chuck, but it was bigger and flatter.  It was a badger.  And as I watched it moving, a second, smaller badger came up to meet it.  Well, I wasn't sure what to do, but my brother's rifle sits on the cupboard, and I got it down, went outside . . . and they were gone.  The deer continued to sit around there, dumbly uninterested, but the badgers had either heard me, smelled me, or sensed me, and went to ground.  I waited for them to return, but they never did.  Could I have shot one, and actually killed it, from that distance?  We will never know.

I picked up the DVD of 1954's OKLAHOMA!, and watched it here, instead of doing something productive.  I just didn't want to reach my deathbed and have my last words be "I wish I'd watched more Rodgers & Hammerstein."  Like so many elderly folks reportedly say.

There were parts of the film that were totally magical, and some fun songs, but man, the dancing.  There was an extended dance sequence where the main two characters were replaced by stunt dancers that made me long for the sweet embrace of the grave. 

Writing or Exercise: Exercise

6/9

I really ought to write, but man, I just can't bring myself to do it.  Imagine a Bizarro Universe where going jogging or jumping rope is more appealing to me than writing.  But that's where we are.*

I did do one productive thing this morni--shoot, it's afternoon now, how did that happen?--ng: I selected a five minute sample from the audiobook of "Hatchling" to send to Audible, which means the recording is completely finished (though I may have to re-do the closing credits, if I said 2021 instead of '22 on there [has it been that long I've been working on it?], and then I'll be done).  Of course, I realized that the voice of Rick is completely different at the start of the audiobook from where it is at the end, and that tempts me to sit down and re-do all those lines so they match, but eff it, that could go on forever (I mentioned recently listening to the audio of "Newfound Fame" and thinking I could add a new scene and redo one section, where there's a digitally-inserted Brown Depths Monster and Alonzo Moss shoots first and misses at point blank range, but I didn't do it).

I interrupted my time-wasting when I heard a sound in the other room, and came out to find . . . the front door was wide open.  My guess is a gust of wind blew it open, but still, the imagination revs up.  Imagine if that happened in the middle of the night.

Even though I watched it a full 24 hours ago, that "The Farmer & the Cowman Should Be Friends" keeps echoing in my head, over and over again.  Yesterday, I was thinking I'd check out more Oscars & Hammerstein movies from the library . . . but now I sort of wish I'd never watched it at all.

I went for a pretty good hike at the cabin in the afternoon because I was tired of sitting around inside, and I hadn't been hiking much this year.  I walked down the hill in search of the frogsong you can hear as the shadows lengthen each day.  It's only Thursday, so there were no other people around (I heard somebody working construction in the distance, but didn't see anyone), and I walked through people's yards trying to find a path down to a trio of ponds that are surrounded by brush, where I could hear the frogs singing.  Of course, when I got there, I couldn't see them, and they'd shut up if I got very close.  I saw one frog hopping through the bushes, but when I put down my backpack to try and catch it, it was gone.

Hiking back up the hill was slower going than going down, and it struck me as oddly lonely for some reason.  Eventually, I got back to the cabin and worked on audio editing until I was no longer hot.

Even though I had hiked during the day, I still chose to go on a run around ten at night.  I was hungry, and thought I could reward myself with some orange chicken, but ONLY if I exercised, so I did the whole darn run, and found myself abnormally sweaty when I made it back. 

I did eventually sit down and write the first few paragraphs of a story I'd come up with about a dozen years ago, where a man and woman are forced to raise an alien child as their own (I even drew a couple of sketches of what the creature was going to look like), but I threw those plans away when I saw MAN OF STEEL.  But here we are, all these years later, and I thought I'd give it a try, since I'd been thinking about the opening since Lindsay Lohan was considered talented.  Maybe I can make something of it.***

Writing or Exercise: Both

*I promised Marshal I would write a story with a positive portrayal of a step-parent relationship this year, and I keep kicking around an idea of a stepdad taking his son out to look at a college, or to give him the talk about sexual intercourse and how Wang Chung is the most underrated band of the Eighties, or maybe to give him his first driving lesson . . . and then something happens, but I can't think of what that something would be, and I'd rather listen to the audio commentary of OKLAHOMA! than to figure that out (or worse, put in the second disc and listen to the SECOND commentary, having finished the first one).

**That movie was lousy enough I should've thrown all my plans away afterward, but it was some plotpoint or some line of dialogue that Zod had that made me think, "Damn, that was what my story was going to be about.  Why didn't I write it when I had the chance?"

***Spoiler: Nope, I won't.

Rish Outcast 222: Newfound Fame 1

Are you a Horror fan?  A TRUE Horror fan?

Uncle Rish is proud to present the first section of "Newfound Fame," the tale of Ernst Hillerman, who once played The Brown Depths Monster, so, so long ago.

If you care to download the show, Right-Click HERE.

If you care to help Rish on Patreon, Left-Click HERE.

If you care, the logo was by Gino "Newfound Maim" Moretto.

Blog 6/3 - 6/5

6/3

I had to do the lines for four characters (all thieves) in a story called "Haus" this weekend.  I read through their descriptions, and decided to "cast" them in my head.  So, I did them as Liam Neeson, Jason Statham, Bill Paxton, and that skinny kid from DUNE.  Of course, they'll sound nothing like those actors, but it helped me keep the lines straight as they argued among themselves.

I had a little time on my hands, so I decided to just go to the cabin, even though it wasn't a Wednesday. 

I made it to the cabin with no issues, and when I reached the dirt road that my brother warned would be too muddy access last week, it was dry.  There was one patch of about eight inches of mud that I drove through, but there was nothing to worry about.  When I pulled up, I saw the mother deer and her two fawns from last year, right there on the back hill where I'd watched them grow up, and they are getting close to the same size.  The fawns are big and ungainly and pretty unattractive, which I suppose makes them the equivalent of teens at that awkward age (good luck, boys, some of us never outgrow that stage).

To my horror, about an hour before sunset, I heard a familiar voice outside: the four year old childe.  I stood up, and discovered that my brother-in-law had arrived, with three boys, and were spending the weekend.  THAT'S why I come up on Wednesdays, come to think of it.

Writing or Exercise: Exercise

6/4

I did a lot of audio editing today (part of it was, every time the kids and my brother went outside, I'd start editing podcasts again, like I was getting away with something, and once they were all gone, I jumped on it like a bad habit), and finally finished the audiobook for "Hatchling," which was a super long time in coming.  And that means I can start work on the next lengthy audio project (first up is "But Now I'm Found," because I set that as a goal for June, but after that, I'll probably record "Winter Break" or the twin story or possibly "The Bad Man In Room 2," since that one could be an Outcast episode), since I'll need plenty of material to while away the hours when I'm here.

Writing or Exercise: Exercise

6/5

I stayed at the cabin after my family left, even though I shouldn't have.  My brother is much like my father was, always finding things to fix, things that need doing, never sitting still long enough to get fat or old.

I took a little time to work on my blog, but I must've forgotten to save it, because there was nothing for the fifth, and my entry for the fourth ended in mid-sentence.  It bothers me to have wasted my time like that, over and over and over again, but I tend not to learn from my mistakes.*

Something pretty astounding about my two days at the cabin is that I've probably written only a dozen words.  These things go in cycles, I get that, and after doing my level best in May, June seems to be a month where I try to get in a bit better shape, writing be damned.  Or darned, at least.

Writing or Exercise: Both

*Of course, I just realized that there are more blog posts in the past (ie, before my death) than there are in the future.  Gulp.

Blog 6/2

The new month has begun, and I need to get back to the regular grind.  Since I didn't go to the cabin today, I spent my free time audio editing, and recording my Patreon address, but darned if the time didn't slip away as fast as it could (I didn't even fall asleep this time).

One of my goals for the month of June is to come up with a good idea for a short story.  That is something that happens on its own, but not with predictable regularity.  My brother is going to the cabin to chop down trees on Saturday, so I think I'll go with him and try to be inspired by something that I see or hear.  You never know.

I got out a story I wrote in February and did a second pass on it, calling it "Olivia Rewinds," which I'm pretty sure is not a good title, but my first idea, "Olivia Unwinds." didn't make narrative sense.  I'll keep thinking.

The other day, I got a "helpful" question from an eBay user asking me why I had a piece from a Build-A-Figure for such a high price.  Seriously, that piece goes for what the other five pieces go for put together.*  The user asked me how I could live with myself listing it for that high (he didn't technically call me the S-word, but oh, it was there, between the lines), and warned me that I'd never sell it for that price.  He'd give me fifteen, the helpful, generous stranger.

Well, today, it sold for fifty.  Just saying.

Alright, I finished a second pass of my story from February, and tried to come up with a good title for it.  I was leaning toward "Olivia's Rewinds," or "Olivia Backs Up," but once I'd closed the file and started for home, I thought I'd call it "Olivia Redux."  Not sure I understand that term correctly, but I like the sound of it.  If I wake up really ambitious one of these days, I'll record it and do an episode of the podcast for it.  Gotta warn you, though, the title's the best thing about it.

Writing or Exercise: Writing

*There is often one such BAF piece, which eludes collectors (such as the hands of The Blob, the head of Apocalypse, the Right Arm of The Rhino, the left leg of Abomination, or the backbone of Rish Outfield) because it came with a figure nobody wanted, or more rarely, the only figure anybody wanted.  I remember people selling the complete Sentinel Build-A-Figure a decade back for a hundred dollars, or just the head and chest piece for ninety dollars (I think I sold my last one for exactly that price).

Blog 6/1

I heard a song playing on the radio as I pulled in front of the library just now that went, "And if I can't be close to you, I'll settle for the ghost of you."  I thought it would make for a pretty good basis for a short story.

Of course, that was before I Googled who sang it.*

Seven or eight months back, Marshal Latham commented that he would like to hear me read Stephen King's "Gramma," a short story from (I think) 1984.  And the last time I was at the cabin, I recorded it.  Today, I had planned on returning to the cabin, and I thought it would be cool if I recorded an episode to go with it.

But it rained the whole weekend, and got down to the forties here (which meant it was in the twenties there, and/or snowing), and my brother thought the cabin road would be muddy and fairly impassable.  So, I decided not to go down, but met my cousin for lunch, went to the store, and then drove back home.  Later on, though, when the temperature rose to the mid-seventies, I thought, Well, that makes it the mid-fifties at the cabin, so surely the snow would melt and the mud would . . . what, harden?

I asked my mom if I should take my car or borrow my dad's truck, and she practically forbade me to go, returning me in a sentence or two to about thirteen years old, adding, "But of course, you can do what you want, if you won't listen to me."

So, instead of driving down there, I opened my recording files of "Gramma" from last November, and started editing them.  And the story was just so good that I wished that I'd been a grownup and gone down to the cabin anyway, so I could record an episode for it and ask the musical question, "Could I ever write a story as good as this one?"

And it made me wish that I wrote all the time, way more than I do, kind of like The Alien does, and I could just challenge myself to write a story inspired by "Gramma," in much the same way King was apparently trying to write a story inspired by the HP Lovecraft mythos when he penned "Gramma."

But instead, I came to the library, and will do what I can with the hour before it closes, working on "Balms & Sears" again, creeping lethargically toward its end.

Writing or Exercise:  Writing

*I assumed it would be BTS or the Jonas Brothers or Blackpopcicle or something, not suspecting the truth would be far darker: Justin Effing Beiber.