7-30 and 7-31

7-30

I got one of those fun "Prove it's really you" tests over on Paypal today, where it wanted me to confirm my identity by sending me a text to my phone, then I had to type it in on the computer before the time elapsed.  No big deal, right?  Except for once I typed it in, I got the error, "Sorry, unable to verify your ID," and it wouldn't log in.

Didn't quite get 700 words today.  I kept trying to find synonyms for "concern" and "worry."  There aren't a lot, at least in my mind.

Anyway, I'm gonna head home and get some more reading done.  I'm in the home stretch now.

Oh, hey.  CatsCast asked if I wanted to do another story for them already.  I'll have to come up with something funny to say in my bio.

Writing or Exercise: Writing

7-31

So, last week, David Warner died.  He was an excellent actor, nearly always playing bad guys (in TRON and TIME BANDITS and TIME AFTER TIME and even TITANIC), and played Gul Madred in the excellent two-part "Chain of Command" episode on Star Trek: TNG.  David Warner was cool, and because he died while I was reading Abbie's book, I thought I'd try and make one of the new characters sound like him.

The same day, Paul Sorvino died, who had a great film career . . . but also played Worf's foster brother on a seventh season TNG episode called "Homeward."

And then today, Nichelle Nichols, who played Lt. Uhura on the original "Star Trek" (and six movies), passed away too.  She was 89.

My friends and I were always disappointed that Uhura had nothing to do on the show, especially knowing how important she was in inspiring so many people to pursue communications, linguistics, and the space program.  And hey, anybody who was on the original "Star Trek" is pretty great, between you and me.

There were so many tributes, both from Trek alumni and from others, and that was great, but Pat Carroll, who played the GOAT of all Disney villains, Ursula the Sea Witch died that same day, and I wished she'd had a day of her own to be appreciated.

I had a long drive in the morning, which is pretty irresponsible considering the price of gas (which has dropped more than thirty cents since the start of July, so it could be worse), but there was a guy who's moving and wanted to get rid of some of his figures, and the deal was good enough I was willing to make the drive. 

I made sure to finish reading Abbie's book, though it didn't take much (the last several pages were author's notes, and I had read those as I went along).  Then my nephew wanted to ride his little bicycle around, so I told him I'd take him to the park, and he could bike while I ran.  It was hot and fairly miserable, but we went all the way around, and I did the stairs three times (well, four times, technically, since there's another set of much steeper steps on the far side of the park).  Afterward, I got him (and me) a Slurpiee, and figured we'd both earned it.

Writing or Exercise: Exercise

7-29

7-29

I apologize for always complaining about stuff, but I was watching "Better Call Saul," and they had "Gene Takavic" run into a guy he knew back in New Mexico when he was Saul Goodman.  But I didn't recognize him.  I rewound it, watched it again, and paused it, still flummoxed.*  I just didn't recognize the guy who recognized Gene/Saul.

So I looked him up.  And sigh.

It was not the same actor who played the character in the old episodes.  Whoops.  Guess I'm not as stupid as the show made me feel.  Thanks, television.

In other news, I told Jeff today that the Gherkin is the most beautiful building in the world.  He laughed, but . . .

I'm back at the library right now, and the dude across the aisle from me is having a nice little mumbly chat with himself, twitching and rocking while he's doing so.  He's obviously mentally ill, and just as his behavior started to upset me . . . I thought about how I talked to myself this morning, trying to get my work done, and that one of the voices had an English accent and the other one didn't.  So, I need to be a bit more charitable, thank you very much.

I started writing again (though I sure wanted to look up every single possible thing that occurred to me . . . still do), and used the word "discomfort."  It seemed like the appropriate word, but I wanted to make sure I hadn't already used it.  So I did a search . . . and it was the NINTH time I had used "discomfort." 

I could've written more.  I could've written longer.  But I managed 670 words, and sorry to be a douche, but the guy across from me (who probably got more words written than me, truth be told) was making me nervous.  So I hit the road a full half hour early.  Sorry.

Writing or Exercise: Writing

*This confusion MIGHT have been avoided had this episode included a "Previously on Buffy the Vampire Slayer..." but it didn't.

7-27 & 7-28

7-27

At the cabin, beyotch.  I guess I was tired, because I fell asleep while editing, and then later put on a movie (FREE GUY), and fell asleep during it too.  But when I woke up, a half hour or so later, I was pretty refreshed, so I finished the movie, edited Chapter 7 of my audiobook, and went out on the upper deck to look at the stars for a few minutes.  It was the first time I'd done it since I got carbon monoxide poisoning last year, and next time I go, it'd be cool if you'd go with me: the Big Dipper and the Milky Way were super visible in the sky, and I wouldn't be surprised if someone told me there were a million stars out and shining.

An owl was calling, which is pretty rad, and some other animal was doing some kind of call.  Do deer make noise?  It sounded somewhat dog-like to me, and I wondered if maybe foxes bark.  Probably, right?

 Writing or Exercise: Exercise

7-28

I'm supposed to be finishing up "Arcove's Bright Side," but I'm so far behind, it would take an actual NASA-detected miracle to reach the end in time.  I keep noticing references to "Hunter's Unlucky," and I know that, if I was given the job to narrate that book now, I could do a better job of it (partly because the characters have developed so much more in my mind over the years (and my mouth too, if you know what I mean).  The character of Halvery has become a favorite of mine (not a favorite, I suppose, but the favorite), and I'm almost tempted to ask Abbie if I can go back and redo all his dialogue from the first book, now that he's so fleshed out, and the way I perform him.  But I'm not completely mad, mind you--I'll barely get this thing finished by the first of August as it stands.*

While reading her book, I notice certain strengths she has, and an ability to carry a narrative along by withholding information, but letting us know she's withholding it by having a character fixate on it, so we become as invested in finding out as he does.  Meanwhile, I've gotten better at writing over the years, but still consider it a triumph when I get from point A to point D without quitting along the way.  But ah well.

It started raining a little while ago, and man, it's RAINING.  The thunder is so loud, you can feel it in your grundle, and the rain pelted the poor deer outside so hard they ran for cover as though someone had taken a shot at them.  It came down in dime-sized drops, then nickel-sized.  I worry about the road getting back (a dirt road, which would now be a mud and running water road).  I think I've no choice but to stay here, if not for the night, then at least until the torrent stops.  Wow, the sun is still shining, yet it is pouring rain (like, movie rain, the kind that doesn't happen in real life, because people would die from it).  I'll try to get some video of it.

Anyway, I'll keep reading Abbie's book (I'm getting close to the end now) and do a mile or three on that exercise bike I carried upstairs a week ago.  Then we'll see.

At the last minute (I go into more detail in my Patreon address), I decided to at least TRY the roads, so I packed up my stuff, and got in the car.  And the roads were fine.  Honestly, my shoes got way muddier than my car.

Okay, turns out Tony Dow did die, just a day or two later.  You rock, Wally.

Writing or Exercise: Exercise

*Part of my problem is that I keep reading all of the dialogue out loud.  Even when I realize it's taking too long, and I start reading it silently, a page or two later, I start saying the words again, and it slows to a crawl.  I think Abbie understands that, even though I complain about it every time, the actual recording of the book goes much more smoothly (and a bit faster) if I've read it all first.  It's like making a movie where you take a few days to rehearse first, I suppose.

7-25 & 7/26

7/25

This doesn't qualify for a Tale of eBay Horror, but I needed to write SOMETHING in my blog today, since the library was closed (today and yesterday), and I didn't so much as fart today.  Anyway, I got a message from a potential buyer* who asked if I would send him close-up photos of an item, so he could tell if it was what I said it was or not.

That's it, just that little bit there.  Somehow, I thought that was worth blogging about (hey, at least I didn't take another picture of the gross oval bruise on my side).

Watched a "Star Trek" episode called "The Enterprise Incident."  I remembered liking this one a lot the last time I watched it, where a female Romulan Commander puts the moves on Spock, but I found it middling and pointless this time around (after all, none of the plotlines from this episode are ever mentioned again, including the stolen cloaking device and the captured Romulan commander).  I was surprised, though, when I looked it up, to find out it's one of the more highly-regarded installments of the show, from Season Three, when nobody likes anything.

For the "writing" portion of my night, I sat down and recorded Chapter 8 of "But Now I'm Found," and dang it, like Chapter 4, I went waaaaaay longer than I intended.  It was not a long segment, but it was one hour and fourteen minutes recording it.  At this rate, I'll never get to the end.

Writing or Exercise: Writing

7-26

The press announced that Tony Dow, who played Wally on "Leave It To Beaver," died today.  There was even a heartfelt tribute from Jerry Mathers, who played his little brother.  But then, Dow's family and manager put out a statement that Tony Dow had NOT died.  Which is awkward, isn't it?

Big has already written over a thousand words today.  I'm not in competition with him (except, perhaps, in who can write a book and not publish it the longest), but I still feel the pressure building.  I'm sitting down at the library, with zero words, and we'll see how well I do in the next hour.

I shouldn't tell anybody this, but fudgin' "Hatchling" finally went through on Audible.  Jeez, if I live to be a hundred, I never want to mention it again.  It'll be like asking Lucas about "The Holiday Special."

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

*I get them every day, and at least one of them [sometimes multiples] ask me how low I will go on the price . . . it's just so weird.  You can make offers on eBay listings, and I've got them set up to automatically accept them if they're above a certain threshold, yet people still ask EVERYDAY what my lowest price would be.

7-23 & 7-24

7/23

When I was at the cabin on Thursday, hurrying to get everything put away before darkness fell, I accidentally ran into the stair railing (as opposed to the many times I've run into them on purpose).  It hurt, and I'm sure I said words even British people consider profanity, but then forgot about it.  But today, I got out of the shower, and was kind of shocked to see an ugly purple bruise on my side.  Not being a religious person, I didn't interpret it as stigmata or anything, but remembered the mishap on Thursday.

Here's a picture.  That'll teach you to read my blog.

I don't have much time at the library today, which is fine.  I did great yesterday (unless you're one of those writers who posts on Facebook that they've written three novels this year . . . and it's April!), and Jeff said today's the last day we'll have to hang out before he flies home (a week late).  I'll ask him if we can watch a "Supernatural" episode, or if he just wants to continue with "Lower Decks."

Even so, he was out of town until afternoon, so I still got some writing done.  Compared to yesterday, it was little, and I didn't move the narrative even a millimeter toward the end.  Okay, maybe a millimeter.

Writing or Exercise: Writing

7/24

You know, I try not to belittle other people's beliefs, especially their inane religious ones, because, after all, I once believed that Chewbacca was real, and that if you died whilst praying your soul would automatically go to Heaven.*  But I used to report on these asinine spam emails I would get every week (my account has been locked, my computer has 23 viruses, Africans have the secret for rock-hard wangs, a company wants me to come in for an interview, I am owed compensation for Camp Lejeune, this is my final notice to pick up my Amazon box, my hair will grow back with this one simple hack, and the word "inconnu" means an unknown person or thing), and I grew tired of that quickly (you see, once you notice a specific email, you'll notice it ten more times in the coming days).

But dude, today's is NASA rapture warning.  Apparently, the National Aeronautics and Space Administration has been monitoring the skies, and like Santa Claus on the 24th of December, there's a Jesus-shaped blob on the radar as the Messiah flies from east to west, scooping good little Gentile boys and girls into the air, while the rest of us remain to be burned like dead stalks after the harvest.  But hey, thanks to this bullshit email . . . we've at least been warned.

I did the stairs at the park again today.  It's a bit hot to be doing it, but I like the sensation of sweat running down my face, I guess.  While I was at the top of the stairs, gasping for breath and begging for a quick death, I saw a bicyclist racing along the sidewalk down below, missing the turn, and biffing it (the technical term) onto the ground.  I watched her writhe for a moment (half-under and half-free of her bike) with an odd detachment, as though I was watching video footage from a foreign land.  Eventually, her bicycling companions extracted her from under the fallen bike, and helped her hobble back toward the parking lot.  I arched an eyebrow, Spock-like, and pondered the existence of these strange beings called humans.

Hmm.

Writing or Exercise: Exercise

*My dad explained this to me when I was a child, as for why Hamlet didn't murder Claudius when he had the opportunity.

Rish Outcast 226: Hero Worship (TMI)

In this episode, Rish talks about heroes, and how they fall.  To illustrate this, he shares his story "Hero Worship," and a TMI warning.  Or two.

If you wanna download the episode, Right-Click HERE.

If you wanna support me on Patreon, well, die a hero HERE.

Logo by Gino "Hero Warship" Moretto.

7-21 & 7-22

7-21

I grabbed three or four DVDs from the library (I always have more to watch than I have time to watch them, which is better than the opposite, believe you me), and picked 1956's HIGH SOCIETY to watch, and it was everything that CAROUSEL wasn't the last time I was here.*  It starred Grace Kelly as Tracy Lord, who's engaged to one dude, still pursued by her ex-husband (Fred Astaire), and falling for a new guy, played by Frank Sinatra.  It had songs by Cole Porter, several performances by Louie Armstrong, and spoke to me in a way that last week's flick absolutely didn't.  So weird.  

Turns out, it was a remake of THE PHILADELPHIA STORY, which had Cary Grant, Katharine Hepburn, and Jimmy Stewart in the Astaire, Kelly, and Sinatra parts, and seems awfully similar (there was a trailer for that flick too on the DVD, and much of the dialogue was exactly the same in both).  But even so, I was absolutely entranced by this version, with no idea how it was going to end.  The poster should've announced, "You'll laugh, you'll cry, you'll eat an entire bag of raisins before it's done!"

Sadly, it was the last movie Grace Kelly did, before becoming Princess of Monaco, and that's a shame.  I didn't even know she could sing.

I have a dude who does a "Dark Shadows" audio drama who contacted me back in June (or maybe even May) to ask if I could voice a character in it.  He sent me audio of the actual guy who played the character, and wanted me to see if I could sound like him.  So I sent him a sample, and he said it was fine, and sent me the script for two episodes.  And I sat down and recorded the first episode, and it ended up being nearly an hour long, after which (a week or so later) I spent even more time editing it.  I guess it's a major audio drama (and mine's a major part).  But there's still one more episode I'm supposed to record, and darned if I can even remember how the dude sounded, much less muster the energy to sound that way for another hour.  Guess it ain't easy being at the top of your game.

Instead, I sat down and edited Chapter 4 of "But Now I'm Found," which is the chapter I was most excited about (I think I mentioned, though, that it took me one hour and twenty-one minutes to record . . . can you even IMAGINE how long it would take to edit?).  And line after line I would do over or rewrite, trying to make it as good, as fun, as magical as it was in my head when I dreamed it up.  And for some bits, I just couldn't make it happen.  I wish I were a better writer, as good as one of those successful middling talents who either got lucky, knew better what to focus on, or worked harder, to get where they are today.

I also wrote a half a page on my book, trying to put an extra human moment in there with the doctor character.  I hope that little additions, little flourishes with minor characters (like the cowboy at the end of "Newfound Fame" who thinks Ernst Hillerman is gay, and not to be rude, kisses him on the cheek before they part) make the book better, richer, and slightly deeper than the shallow, wispy surface-level stories that they are.

Writing or Exercise: Both

7/22

I continue the big scene at the end, but I didn't finish it.  Once again, I can hear my friend (ex-friend now?) Brandon's words, that it wasn't heartbreaking like it was supposed to be.

I got 1036 words, saved and closed the file, then opened it again. 

Ended up with 1327 words.  Again, not bad.  Think I'll go warm up a piece of pizza (who am I kidding, a whole pizza).

My family is off on a fishing retreat for the weekend (the kids do go fishing nearly every day anyway, but this is different as they're not coming home until Sunday), so I had the house to myself.  I did eat a pizza, and ate half a quart of ice cream, and turned the TV up as loud as I wanted.  I was a thirteen year old with my parents out of town.

There's only four episodes left of "Better Call Saul" (three now), and I gotta say, as much as I love the show . . . they pack about twenty-two minutes of story into each episode.  I complained that "Obi-Wan Kenobi" had a lot of filler in it, but I think a single episode of that show could cover the ground of three "Better Call Sauls."  Of course, the writing is much better on BCS, but it still bugs me.

Writing or Exercise: Writing

*Ironically, Frank Sinatra, who co-starred in HIGH SOCIETY, was supposed to star in CAROUSEL, but dropped out at not the eleventh hour, but about 12:45, even having recorded the songs that had to go unused when he left.

7-20

7-20

I be at the cabin once again, my home away from home (my niece and her boyfriend's family are using it this weekend, which really upset my brother, so he must consider it his home away from home too), and as I was approaching, hit the yearly swarm of grasshoppers that always seem to be alongside (or crossing) the road.  It took me a quarter-roll of paper towels to wipe up all the goo once I'd arrived.  

And as I was pulling up to the gate, I saw a big group of teen boys doing some kind of cross-country run (with one poor bastard about a half-mile behind the others, unable to keep up), for what purpose I don't know.  As I drove through the gate and near the dam, I saw a second group, this one nubile teenaged girls, so it must be a class, or a health retreat, or the beginnings of an underage orgy or something.  But I'll admit that I was a bit jealous, seeing all that shiny flesh running where I run every Wednesday night.  Which is weird, I know, but that's what you signed up for, coming to my blog.

I grabbed the exercise bike (which I only ever used once, out on the back deck, in the middle of the night, since it was too hot to ride it in the daylight), stuffed it into the car again, and brought it with me to the cabin.  I put it on the back deck here too, and hopped on, meaning to "ride" for two miles, but bumped it up to three, until I was getting sweaty (which tells me it must be working, like those old shampoo commercials where if the right side is tingling, that means it's working).  

And about a half hour later, I drove up to the dam, did my regular run, and then found the one spot of wi-fi strong enough to go on YouTube and look up various Cajun people speaking with that accent of theirs.  The next HorrorAddicts production I'm voicing has a Cajun accent, which I've never done before (unless it was voicing Gambit in a comic book thirty years ago), and I hoped to study first.

I got a clip of an audiobook narrator who does instruction on accents, and played it over and over in the car, until the phone realized I didn't have internet anymore and wouldn't play it again (funny how I tricked it for a mile or two).  And then, before I forgot how it went, I sat down and started recording my part . . . and it was three lines.  Just three lines for the whole episode.  Sigh.

Maybe I'll beg Abbie to do a Cajun accent for one of the "Arcove's Bright Side" characters, so I wouldn't have wasted the remaining free space in my brain learning to sound Cajun.*

Writing or Exercise: Exercise

*What's worse is, I later read a comment on the YouTube guy's instruction that said, "You stupid Yankee douche, you're teaching people to speak Creole, not Cajun!"  But ce la vie, or however that goes.

7-17 to 7/19

7/17

Reading "Arcove's Bright Side," I am impressed by how well Abbie writes about how hard relationships are.  Her characters continually say the wrong thing, or what they say is misunderstood or does not get the reaction they were expecting, and the characters despair over it.  I'll simply say that, if real-life interpersonal relationships were this complicated, then I'd be pretty darn alone.

Wait, I said that bit aloud, but nobody complained.

I did what I could on the exercise bike tonight.  It's not like going for a run.  It's way less difficult, and focused solely on the legs.  But exercise is exercise, right, Your Honor?

Writing or Exercise: Exercise

7/18

Jeff was supposed to have gone home to Germany by now, but his wife caught COVID (as did his son, daughter-in-law, and multiple members of his family that went to the reunion), so he bumped his flight back a week.  Today, we got together and watched "Star Trek: Lower Decks" together, until I fell asleep, and he kicked me out so he could make dinner.  We also had lunch at a sandwich place that was so expensive, I fear I will never buy a sandwich again.

Afterward, I hit the library.  I got 1137 words today.  I was writing the scene (in "Balms & Sears") I keep talking about, and probably would've gone further had it not been 8:52pm.  No worries.  I'm happy to have made some real progress today.

Writing or Exercise: Writing

7-19

I write these posts as if there are avid fans of mine, hanging on every word, unable to wait another year for a Ben Parks or Will Choner story, much less the stupid "Calling" finale, which I'm probably never going to get to (do you believe I had this idea of a young George Clooney as a villain for that one?).  But even though that's surely not true, I will continue as though it is true, until it becomes true. 

Regardless, I finally got to the climactic scene in "Balms & Sears," and now that it's here, I desperately don't want to eff it up.*  I know what I want to happen, and I know how it's supposed to feel, but I'm afraid I'm just not a good enough writer to pull it off as well as it exists in my head (please return in two days for more of this thought).  But I'll press through to the end, let the manuscript sit for a year (or three), and maybe work on that in the revision, and really act it in the audiobook (coming out circa 2025, mark your calendar), and hope that it gets close.  For now, finishing is the most important part.

I got 874 words today.  Not bad at all.  Sadly, I'm nearly done with the scene (though I'd like to go in and make it more powerful, add in a couple more details and emotions), and then, well, I guess I end the book (I had wanted the encounter with the crazy guy from here at the library to be after this scene, but since I already wrote it, I suppose I'll come up with something else).  It's past the 60,000 word mark (I crossed that threshold today), so it's really getting up there.

Writing or Exercise: Writing

*I've recounted many a time of when, in my writer's group, we reached the end of my screenplay "Fallen Angel," where the hero and heroine realize that, even though they are starting to fall in love, they have to part, for the good of each other.  And my buddy Brandon approaching me afterward and saying, "That's the part where the audience is supposed to burst into tears because it's so tragic they can't be together . . . but I just wasn't feeling it," and how upset that made me, because I knew he was right when we read that bit, but for the life of me, I didn't know how to MAKE the audience feel it.  "A man's got to know his limitations," Dirty Harry said, but sometimes it really sucks to discover them.

My Voice on "The Road Ends At The Sea"

It's always a treat when I get invited to participate in a Campfire Radio Theater, John Ballentine's fully-produced audio drama series.  

In this one, "The Road Ends At The Sea," based on a story by Tim Wynne Jones, I play Paul, the man who married our hero's lost love, who lives at Purgatory Point, a lighthouse at the end of the sea . . . and something else.  

I got to play the husband, the character the girl left our hero for, for the first time.  Pretty cool.  Also cool was how awesome Kevin Hartnell's music was.  Makes me want to write a spooky story or two.

Hey, I did a Canadian accent in this one.  Not that you can tell.  Check it out AT THIS LINK.

7/15 & 7/16

As you know, Bob, I get lazier every single day.  And fatter.

So it came as quite a surprise that I saw a little exercise bike at the local scratch n' dent, and considered buying it.  I asked the proprietor if it was heavy (I thought I'd have to drive over and get my mom's car to fit it into), and if he thought it would sell before the end of the day.  "Are you kidding?  I've had that for weeks," he said.  Then he said he'd knock ten dollars off, since I always buy action figures from him, and when I went to my car to clear off the seat, he said he'd knock off fifteen.  I was already going to buy it, but hey, a deal's a deal.

Not got anything to say today. 

It was pretty hot, and I sat in my car for a minute, watching a YouTube video, and was surprised when the sweat started to roll down my forehead and neck.  I was reminded of when Indians would do their sweat lodge rituals (for purification?  For a show of body-mastery?), and how my dad used to like to go in the sauna at this very Overlook-like hotel in the mountains when I was a kid.  It made me wonder if I was clearing out my pores by sitting there, so I forced myself to sit another three or four minutes, so the sweat would REALLY flow.

Around that time, my nephew's best friend rode by on his bike and saw me doing it, and asked me later just what the bloody hell I thought I was doing.  Good question.

Writing or Exercise: Writing (812 words, if the count was accurate)

7/16

Only have a few minutes at the library today.  Somehow I slept in an extra half hour this morning, and it threw off the whole day.*

I emailed Jeff yesterday and told him I wasn't sure I deserved to get to go to Europe and do all that fun stuff.  He said it wasn't about deserving, that it's his birthday and he wants to celebrate it how he wants to celebrate it.  So weird.

I finally wrote the reunion scene on "Balms & Sears," which I've been thinking about for nearly a decade--the big point of the story, the climax.  But I only got about a third of it done.  It's all downhill from there, after all.

After the library closed, I went over to the mall to check out the toy store that opened three weeks ago (did I write about that, about being one of the first customers, talking with fellow collectors in the line, and then feeling obligated to buy something?  That's why I haven't gone back).  The owner, despite only knowing me vaguely from toy shows over the years, was super friendly and chatty and took me into the back room to show a collection of vintage Transformers (still in the boxes!) that a guy brought in.  He was almost giddy with pride and excitement, and shared how much business they've been doing.

And I have to admit, I was a little jealous.  Back in 2007, I told my cousin we should open a store together, where people could bring in their old toys, and we'd turn around and sell them for a ginormous profit.  Of course, my cousin kept having children, and the economy tanked a year later, so it would never have worked, but it seemed like a fun and exciting job to have.  All these years later, to see somebody who actually made a go of it, doing exactly that, is pretty inspiring.

I also did a short version of my run as the sun was going down, then hopped on the exercise bike and tested it out.  I think I'll take it to the cabin with me next week, see if I couldn't ride it while reading Abbie's book.

Writing or Exercise: Both

*Okay, it was more than a half hour.  But you don't expect me to be HONEST here, do you?

7/13 & 7/14

'Tis Harrison Ford's birthday.  I should go onto Instagram and see if Mark Hamill posted about it (he's good with that).*  Of course, I have no internet right now.  I drove up to the cabin, eager to get away from the oppressive heat (my poor cousin bought me lunch today, and when we got back in his car, he prayed to Shiva, "Let me die."  But he did not), and was surprised when it started raining on the drive up, with the temperature still at 93 degrees.  I remember it doing that to Big Anklevich and me coming back from Comic-Con years ago, driving through Death Valley, when my mom's car thermometer said 106 degrees.  I don't suppose we'll ever do a Comic-Con again.  Huh.

Just for fun, my niece sent me this picture:

Cool.

I had a myriad of options when I got here to the cabin and unloaded the car, but I knew that one of my priorities was to continue reading "Arcove's Bright Side," which Abigail Hilton requested/demanded I get read by July 25th.  We'll see how I do.

To my surprise, Marshal Latham wrote a story for my birthday, called "Butcher's Gulch," over on his podcast.  I had written a story called "Walk of Death" that I put out for his back in February, but didn't expect reciprocity.  I also had no idea he'd done it because he wrote it just this summer, sat down and recorded it, and rushed it out so I could hear it today.

The movie I decided to put in was CAROUSEL, a 1954 Rodgers & Hammerstein production that, just like OKLAHOMA last month, stars Gordon MacRae and Shirley Jones.  Unlike OKLAHOMA, where I knew multiple songs, this is entirely unfamiliar to me.  But it's old fashioned and sweet, so I was enjoying it . . . until the dance number arrived.  Just like last month, it ground the movie to a screeching halt, and misery descended upon me.  But unlike last month, I pretty much knew what I was in for (since I'd sat through the endless, loathsome, and wholly superfluous dance number in that film), so the harmless, innocent fun of CAROUSEL suddenly turned into FACES OF DEATH.

Even though it featured the excellent song "You'll Never Walk Alone," I have to admit that I didn't enjoy this one very much, despite it having the same two leads as OKLAHOMA!.  It's the third Rodgers & Hammerstein musical I've watched this summer, and the only one I didn't watch again with the commentary (SOUTH PACIFIC I ended up watching thrice).

Writing or Exercise: Exercise

7/14

While Jeff was here, I sat down with him and his wife, and we talked about what I'd like to do in Europe, and where I'd like to go.  I didn't want to be overly ambitious (I never thought I'd get to travel anywhere, not with the stupid choices I've made in life), but he seemed to think the sky was the limit.  At one point, he said, "Obviously, we'll take you to the torture museum in ____,"  naming a German town.  I told him, "I don't really have to see any torture museums."  To which he said, "Well, okay.  But we'll go to that one, for sure.  And maybe the Tower of London.  And that'll be it."

He also mentioned having to go out of his way last year to take a picture of the Phantom Manor at Paris Disneyland, since I had asked him to, so I could see what it looked like.  "I suppose you'd like to see it for yourself, right?"  Well, I didn't know what to say.  I mean, yeah, of course I'd like to see the Phantom Manor for myself, but that doesn't mean I ever expected to (or need to).  It would be like somebody saying, "Well, I suppose you'd like to go into a Hogwarts broom closet with Hermione Granger for five minutes, right?"  Most definitely I'd say yes, but never expect to actually get the chance.

You know what I mean.

Right before the sun went down last night, I saw my old enemy, the badger, crossing the white gravel driveway, headed toward his hidey-hole.  I told my brother about it, and he wants it dead, so will bring a rifle when he comes up on Saturday.  My brother wants all badgers dead, and not just the men . . .

I brought several books, but didn't open a single one of them.  Instead, I narrated a David H. Keller short story, and spent a couple of hours reading Abbie Hilton's new book (trying out the new characters' voices to get a feel for them).  Still, it was a fine visit, and as usual, when the sun started getting low in the sky, I packed up my things with a disappointed sigh.

At the end of the day, I had the choice between writing a little or going on a run, and I chose the run.  Because I am stupid, I suppose.

Writing or Exercise:  Exercise  

*He did, in fact, and posted a photo of the two of them together recently.

Podcast That Dares 33: The Ash Tree

Whoops. I should've put this one out a couple of months ago. Sorry. 

Rish presents M.R. James's 1904 story, "The Ash Tree," sadly, with accents.

To download the file, Right-Click HERE.

To support me on Patreon, Left-Click HERE.

Logo by Gino "Arse Tree" Moretto.

7/11 & 7/12

7/11

Happy 7-Eleven day, kids!  The Slurpiees are on me.

I sat down and wrote for about thirty minutes today, writing the scene in "Balms & Sears" before the scene that I've been wanting to write for almost a decade now.  I don't know what's going to happen tomorrow, but I have a feeling that once I start writing The Scene (basically, the climax of the story/movie), I won't want to stop.  And that's pretty great, huh?

I checked, and the document is at 56,000 words, so not too shabby, eh?

A couple of weeks ago, I told my Aunt Blanca that I would go with her to the airport to see off her granddaughters, because they had a late-ish flight, and Blanca can't drive at night.

The flight was at 9:50pm, and we left plenty early (around 6:30), but we needn't have bothered, because the flight was delayed.  And delayed.  And delayed.

We went through security and that sort of thing--apparently, if you're seeing kids off, you're allowed to go to the gate with them, as long as you have a pass to do so.  Blanca bought all of us hyper-expensive food at Cafe Rio, and then we were informed that the flight was bumped to 10:45.  Which made her older granddaughter complain, but ah well, it gave us an extra hour to get settled, and gave me an opportunity to sit down and do my writing for the night.  But then the flight was delayed to eleven.  And then eleven-fifteen.  And then eleven-thirty.  With each passing delay, the older granddaughter got more and more upset, anxious, etc., to the point where she called her dad (who was going to pick them up at the airport) to ask if we could just turn around and go home.  Since I had given up my entire night for this, I told them, "No, we drove an hour up here and it's an hour back.  We're not leaving unless the flight is canceled."  

My aunt tried to entertain the oldest girl while I focused on the younger one, letting her use my phone for YouTube and listening to her talk about "Stranger Things," and while we sat, the flight was not only bumped to 11:50, but moved to a different gate (they had had mechanical problems in Los Angeles, and everyone had to disembark, load into a new plane, and wait for it to get the luggage aboard before they could head our way, and as you know, Bob, everything takes longer than you think that it will).  But sure enough, the plane landed, unloaded, they cleaned it quickly, and at 11:53, the girls got on, and Blanca and I walked back to where I had parked her car.

Except that I didn't know where we were anymore.  The airport was now empty and quiet, and my aunt's legs were really aching, and we walked what had to be more than a mile, maybe two, back to the parking garage . . . which turned out to be the wrong one (I guess there's Parking Garage East and Parking Garage West, and I'd led us to the opposite one).  She was really tired when we finally found her car, and I drove us out of there . . . but because we'd been in short-term parking, then stayed four hours, they charged a fortune to leave the garage.  Sad.

But hey, I got to spend time with my aunt, and help her out, and I don't mind staying up late, so it really wasn't that huge of a sacrifice on my part.  Plus, I got a free pork burrito.

Writing or Exercise: Writing

7/12

Something was wrong with me today.  I was tired and unambitious.  I'm not proud of myself about it, but I'm reminded of a day last week when my mom said she didn't get out of bed until eleven or twelve, so hey, it happens.

Big did a video the other day of himself going on a toy run at various stories, and he was inspired by me telling him about a podcast I unearthed from about 2014 where I recorded myself going to Walmart at about 2:00am, hoping to find something cool.  I wished I had done it on video, because it would be neat to see what was on the shelves back then, especially if there was stuff the 2013 me found ordinary (and not worth buying) that's extraordinarily valuable today.  I think I'd like to make my own video too, but no promises.

I should've written more tonight.  But I didn't.  I got about a page done, and Alec and Ana are now entering the hospital.  If I write tomorrow, it should be exciting.

Writing or Exercise: Both (I forgot about push-ups)

My Voice on "Haus" on HorrorAddicts

Once again, Emerian Rich over at HorrorAddicts shows her excellent taste in voice artists by having me do the adult male voices in "Haus," by Garth Von Buchholz.  A group of four robbers break into a house with a futuristic security system . . . but how many will make it out again?

I got the idea of pronouncing "Haus" as "howz," so you could hear that it was a foreign word.  That was about my entire contribution.    Check it out HERE!

7/8 to 7/10

7/8

I made it to the library again, as I usually do on a Friday night.  But tonight, I'm going to see THOR 4 at nine-thirty, so I got here as early as I could, wrote almost as soon as I sat down . . . and then wasted at least an hour on Wikipedia.  Sorry.

I got the story to 6744 words.  So hey, I'm going okay.

Tonight I saw THOR: LOVE & THUNDER with Jeff and his family.  I thought Gorr the God Butcher was particularly terrifying, and really liked Portman's turn as Jane Foster Thor throughout (and I haven't liked a performance of hers since V FOR VENDETTA).  I also liked that they gave Valkyrie so much to do.

At the same time, dude, there are so many kids in this movie.  Kids are the worst.

Jeff's oldest son apparently hated the movie*, which surprised me.  He said, "Well, there's officially only one good Thor movie."  Which is fine--you can like what you like--I can't really address that, being one of only six people in America who liked THOR: THE DARK WORLD.

I personally think there's only one officially bad Thor movie, and that's the first one.  But hey, if I went back and watched it again, I might not think it was bad at all (it at least has Loki in it).  

Writing or Exercise: Writing

7/9

I went to a yard sale this morning with my cousin, way up north (more than an hour away from my place, and more than ninety minutes away from Ryan's house), because a radio DJ and toy collector died recently, and there was an estate sale being done (I got the impression that his widow was there, but a couple younger dudes were being paid to run it).  It started yesterday, and apparently all the good stuff was sold then, but I found a crazy amount of junk that I wanted, considering it was being sold for a dollar a figure.

It was only the tip of the iceberg as far as the collection goes, and one of the dudes there said there were hundreds of boxes of toys in the house they would put up for sale in a couple of weeks.  I look forward to it.

What I don't look forward to, though, is the day my family has to sell off all my junk.  Ryan said, "Your mom will be the same way, selling off your stuff for a dollar apiece, with no idea what any of it is worth."  And it's a disquieting thought, but not at all inaccurate.**

Writing or Exercise: Writing

7/10

Jeff is in town for a family reunion in Montana which he's going to tomorrow morning, which means this week will be a regular one for me, going to the cabin on Wednesday, and boy, I look forward to it.  I guess that makes me weird.  But hey, come up to the cabin with me sometime, and you can judge for yourself.

I went to Jeff's house and played Ticket To Ride with him, his wife, and his three kids.  It was the Italy version, which was harder, because you had to use ferries, and because I didn't know the geography.  It was fun to hear how people said the city names.

His younger son is a math genius (Jeff is more of a language genius, though he probably qualifies in other areas), and could tell us our scores without going around the board, just from doing the math in his head.  I tied for second place, and would have won if I'd paid attention to how many trains the other guys had (in two turns, I'd have had two more Destinations, but I didn't get two more turns).

Afterward, instead of watching a shockingly-bad movie, we watched one more episode of "Supernatural."  But Jeff was falling asleep during it, so he said what he always says, "I'm going to kick you out now."  But hey, I drove home, and still had time to go on a run, list some figures, read a blog, and type this, before going to sleep myself.

Writing or Exercise: Exercise

*Maybe both of them did, because his younger son said, "I think I'm done with the MCU."

**I kept thinking about it, and ultimately figured I'd do an episode talking about it.

Blog 7/2 - 7/7

Ugh.  I spent quite a while blogging at the library, and once again, when I opened my blog file . . . it was empty.  I cannot get my head around that.  I mean, gmail fudgin' saves every ten seconds or so (maybe more often than that), so it should've had at least SOME of what I wrote today, even if it didn't catch the last bit before I logged off their computer.

I'm pissed enough to just publish this week's blog in the half-assest way imaginable.  But then I'll come in and paste in something for the days where I later emailed myself a note.

7/2
Writing or Exercise: Writing

7/3

I didn't mention this, but at one point, Marshal commented that my Cousin Ryan and I were always calling each other "Chima."  He referred to it as some Spanish word, but I didn't know what he was talking about.  Except that we do do it all the time.  "Chima" was the name of a Lego subline from a decade or more back, and I thought the word was delightfully ugly (and it my mind, it's crazily similar to "chalupa," even though it isn't really).  So I started calling him "Chima," and he started calling it back to me.  And when we were watching "Orphan Black," there was a character called Cossima, and my cousin started calling me that for a while.

So, things can always be worse.

Writing or Exercise: Exercise

7/4

Lots of fireworks tonight, which I was going to use as an excuse to not record anything, maybe go for a run instead.  But around midnight, the explosions died down, and I sat down and recorded Chapter 6 of "But Now I'm Found."  To my horror, it took one hour and twenty-one minutes . . . the longest I've ever spent on a chapter.

Even so, it was progress, and any amount of progress is good.

Writing or Exercise: Writing

7/5

Because Jeff is in town this week and next week has a family reunion, I've decided to forgo the cabin this week, and spend Wednesday and Thursday with him.  I imagine that one day one (or both) of us will be dead, so it's best to get in the visit while we can.

I spent a good chunk of my visit to the library tonight catching up on my blog over the last few days.*  I also, out of curiosity, did a word count on my story "The Washer Whispers," which was just over 5400 words.  It's only a third of the way through, I said at the time, but I'm cool with that, and looking forward to find out where it's going.  Well, that's still true, but any setback has the capacity to discourage me, and that's a pretty big character flaw of mine.

Not the biggest, I'm sure, but pretty big.

Writing or Exercise: Writing

7/6

Jeff had saved an obscure Eighties Slasher movie called DEADLY GAMES (1982) for us to watch.  But wow, it was really bad.  Worse than pretty much any movie the two of us have watched together in the five years he's been moved away (it starred Steve Railsback, who I've never liked, even in good films).  Because I'm upset to have lost all of last week's blog posts, I don't imagine I'll say much about this, but I think Jeff felt bad because the pick was his, and he had such high hopes for it.**

Afterward, he offered to buy us a bag of chips, and let me pick the movie we'd watch.  I said, "Well, I've always wanted to see TRAIN TO BUSAN, but was scared off by the subtitles."  

So we checked to see if it was available, and sure enough, there were three versions: English Dub, Korean Subtitle, and Spanish Dub.  We started with the English dubbed version, just because you didn't know which version you were watching until people started talking, and Jeff turned it off after about six seconds, claiming the dubbed dialogue was the worst he'd ever heard (I, however, thought it was just fine.  Heck, I might watch that version by myself sometime, just to see how it feels).  So we watched it all from the subtitled version, and aside from me not knowing any of the characters' names, it was a wholly pleasant experience.

Writing or Exercise: Writing

7/7

Jeff had gone to the library (if I know him, he had been there, outside the door, when it opened in the morning) and got an Italian Slasher movie for us to watch, probably to make up for yesterday's turd.  It was a forgotten Mario Bava flick called FIVE DOLLS FOR AN AUGUST MOON (1970), and was absolutely terrible.  

In many ways, it was similar to DEADLY GAMES in that the filmmakers seemed to be shooting random scenes that connected to nothing, and then cutting them together in post.  But it was Italian-made, and that gave it a bit of charm, and it had Edwige Fenech in it, who we watched last year in Your Vice Is a Locked Room and Only I Have the Key (and also starred in the slightly-less-well-titled Strip Nude for Your Killer (1975).

We were able to watch the season finale of "Star Trek: Strange New Worlds," and wouldn't you know, they managed one more excellent episode.  By my count, that's ten for ten.  I may spend the rest of my life wondering how they could pull that off (which, of course, leaves me open to disappointment the second they put out a mediocre one).  Still, I won't look a gift horse in the mouth.  Just like "Mandalorian" rekindled some fans' faith in the Star Wars franchise again, I'm so thrilled with the ten episodes of 2022 Star Trek we got, that I'll try my best not to criticize "Discovery" for the next little while.

Writing or Exercise: Writing

*Sure seems stupid now, in retrospect.

**In his defense, he had watched the trailer last year and sent me a link, asking if I wanted to check it out, and yeah, the trailer was one of those Good Parts Only edits that made me vote Aye.

Rish Outcast 225: Newfound Fame 4

Rish finishes his novella "Newfound Fame," and talks about the movie IT FOLLOWS.  Again.

To download the file, Right-Click HERE.

To support me on Patreon, Left-Click HERE.

Logo by Gino "Newfound Blame" Moretto.

6/30 & 7/1

 6/30

Another month is over.  

I watched a couple of DVDs from the library at the cabin this trip.  The first was THE MAN FROM UNCLE, which was a vastly underperforming Guy Richie movie from a few years back that I thought was pretty excellent when I saw it in the theater (yeah, it actually played in the theater).  To my surprise, it was even better the second time, and I will unequivocally list it as my favorite Guy Richie flick.

My cousin Ryan had told me that the CRUELLA movie was enjoyable, so I picked it up.  There were parts that were good, sure, and I liked that it took place in, what was it, 1974?  Also, I've never considered 101 DALMATIONS a masterpiece of cinema, so that helps.  And it didn't make me wish that I was dead, and that the Disney empire would burn to the ground like MALEFICENT did, so there's that.

I also watched CHAPPAQUIDICK, about the car accident in 1969 that seemingly undid Ted Kennedy's political career (except that he served in the Senate for, like, forty years after that).  It was pretty unpleasant, but was meant to be.

They say that those who do not study history are doomed to repeat it.  Well, I just heard that Paramount has made a prequel to ROSEMARY'S BABY . . . and for a moment, I was excited about it.  Let's see if I still have that Picard facepalm image . . .

Writing or Exercise: Exercise

7/1

Today, it was ninety-eight degrees outside.  There's no point to me saying this--I'm not complaining, just commenting.

I came back to the library today.  If I can write 300 words, I will consider it a success.

I'm sure I got double that.  I was writing the crucial scene of finally understanding what the voice is whispering, and I ended up writing a whole bit I had not intended, and was still going strong when they announced that it was time for all good monkeys' tails to fall off, had I lost mine yet?

I went home and had a good long chat with Big Anklevich, who gets off work around the same time I leave the library*.  Then my nephew (14) asked me if we could watch the Adam Sandler movie THE HUSTLE tonight (I'd been telling him we should watch it for weeks now, but there's always one of his parents around, and I didn't want to get in trouble, since the movie's rated R). 

But I needn't have bothered.  His mom was in the room, doing something on her laptop, and told us we could watch it, and told the eleven year old he could too, so we did.  

HUSTLE tells the story of a basketball recruiter (played by Adam Sandler) who, at whatever age Adam Sandler's supposed to be, pins all his hopes and family's future on a Spanish amateur player that he brings to Philadelphia for a shot at the NBA.  I enjoyed it quite a bit, despite not being a sports guy.  

My nephew, however, impressed the hell out of me by constantly telling me who all the players were (whether they were playing themselves or not), even if they're only shown for a second or two.  I don't know how he did it, except to say that if there was a movie like this that took place at a Star Trek or Star Wars convention, I guess I could name every "celebrity" cameo that there was.  Still, they're not going to make a movie that takes place at one of these cons, though I'd enjoy writing one about a murder investigation at a Sci-Fi convention, and the suspects are all ex-cast members of a classic genre show.**

Writing or Exercise: Writing

*Okay, that's a lie.  I ALWAYS call him when he's still working on the show, sometimes right up against the wire.  The poor bastage.  But the fault isn't solely mine: he could refuse to answer, right?

**Spoiler: It was Walter Koenig that did it.  And of course you know why.