Rish Outcast 221: Another Spring, Another X-mas

Rish talks about his new audio collection and (yet another) springtime Christmas movie shoot.

To download the episode, Right Click HERE.

To support me on Patreon, just click HERE.

Logo by Gino "Another Fall" Moretto.

Star Wars Celebration Blog 5/25

 I deleted another fifty spam emails this morning, and the one I'm choosing to share with you is The Truth About Your Manhood.  I clicked it, and there was an Unsubscribe link . . . and that's it.

Our trip to California for the Star Wars Celebration had begun!

Marshal was driving down, and predicted it would take him about five hours to get here, where he would pick me up and we'd drive down to my cousin's house, where Marshal would leave his car and we'd take my cousin's van (which is big enough I found it comfortable and it also fit all our luggage and/or swag from the con).  But Marshal arrived early, when I was at the UPS Store dropping off a package, and that embarrassed me.

But I should be used to embarrassment at this point.

My cousin provided the family mini-van, which may not have gotten great mileage, but was totally comfortable.  I believe, up to this point in time, I've always referred to my Cousin Ryan as "my cousin," but I'll try to do better from now on.*

We drove south, and even though the drive is long, there was a constant stream of conversation, and that sped things up quite a bit.  I had intended for us to do a lot of podcasting over the weekend, and I must admit that I didn't feel up to it most of the days.  We did record one bit I had prepared on the drive down, and I suspect we never got out the recorder again.

We got gas for $4.79 a gallon, knowing it would all be uphill from there, and before long, we'd crossed Las Vegas (hitting a pocket of traffic there, but not encountering much more, even in Southern California).  I sat in the passenger side, Marshal was in back, and Ryan drove, and this would remain unchanged for the rest of the weekend.

The first photo I took was of the gas prices in Barstow, where we all stopped, and each of us ventured into the grossest bathroom I've seen in civilization (campsites and port-o-pottys don't count).  The floor alone . . . shudder.

The second photo I took was of the sun setting on the Death Valley horizon, as the I-15 plunged us inexorably toward the kind of weather that would cause my cousin to complai--oh wait, everywhere has that.

I had packed plenty of cough medicine for the trip, and I made use of it all.  I never felt particularly good, but I tried not to draw attention to myself, and only later in the week worried about perhaps infecting and killing Marshal.  Whoops.

It was night when we reached the City of Orange, where Marshal had booked us a motel.  And we just couldn't find it.  We followed the directions of our phone, and it took us to a strip mall, which was pretty unsettling, until we realized that the motel was hidden behind a gas station, and the entrance was actually through the station's lot.

The room was upstairs, and large and clean, with two chairs my cousin and I would make use of the whole time we were there.  He had brought an inflatable mattress, but the bed was big enough we had room to share.  I did not sleep well, but unlike the other two guys, I hadn't a Darth Vader breathing apparatus to strap myself into, so it could've been worse (I did have a nightmare during the pre-dawn hours, and I had meant to tell the guys about it, but I didn't, and of course I can't remember it now).

Writing or Exercise: Writing

Blog 5-22 to 5/24

5/22

One of my non-writing goals for this year was not to buy any more Transformers toys.  And even though I broke that rule by buying a Starscream figure for Big Anklevich, I'm doing pretty well with it.  Today, Big told me he'd bought a little tiny Ravage figure, despite how expensive they've gotten, and I was with him on it, since Ravage was one of my favorite characters growing up.

He's a Decepticon sidekick who transforms from a panther into a mini cassette that you could put into Soundwave's chest, or his tape deck when he was in disguise as a stereo.  At least he was, back in 1984.  But Big sent me a photo of what 2022 Ravage NOW transforms into . . .

Absolutely nothing.

It somehow gave me the strength not to break my resolution for the rest of the year.  Thanks, man.

My mom took my aunt to the airport and my sister took her two older kids to a homeless shelter this afternoon, so I volunteered to take care of the four year old (since we had a good time last Sunday, with our hike and all).  We went to the park (where they had completely emptied out their duck and goldfish pond, then left it empty), and then drove down to the riverside and took a walk.  

It's a cool, semi-exotic place just a couple of miles down the road, and yet I only go there once or twice a year.  There are several trees that grow up alongside the river, and one of them had apparently died and fallen over, and there were two dudes who had walked out on it and were fishing there, which seems pretty exotic too.

I took a Coke Zero with me, and at one point, my nephew grabbed it and took a big swig of it . . . which would have consequences, as he was just coming down with a cough at that time.

Then, before I knew it, the day was over.  The wind blew like a mutha tonight, and I remembered that I hadn't written or exercised tonight, and though I wanted to watch "Saturday Night Live" and eat ice cream, I forced myself to put on a long-sleeved shirt, some sweats, and went on a run.  

Writing or Exercising: Exercising

5/23

I did pretty great at the library today, logging in with less than an hour to write, but still getting nearly eight hundred words.  "Balms & Sears" is really coming along.  Too bad no one will ever read it.  But ah well.

I had lines to do for another Horror Addicts story due soon, and I sat down today and recorded them.  Strangely, the story was in First Person, but I was only supposed to be doing the spoken lines of the main character.  I even emailed to ask if it was a mistake, but that was how she wanted it done.  I wonder how that will sound, having a female narrator in a male POV story.*

I finished another Rish Outcast episode today, so that makes three that are in the bag that I can release over the next three weeks.   But will I?

My brother is going to the cabin this weekend to de-winterize it, and I would love to go with him, but I'll be in Southern California.  Still, I guess that means I could drive down to the cabin next week.  I'm as excited about that as I am the Star Wars Celebration.

Writing or Exercising: Writing 

5/24

My nephew was really sick yesterday, coughing constantly, even through the night, and alternating between being hot and cold.  It scared me because on Sunday, he'd leaned over and drank from my Coke Zero, and with me going on a road trip this week, I sure didn't want to get sick myself.

I coughed a few times yesterday, but way less today.  I did, however, alternate between being too hot and too cold.  But I'll muddle through, I hope.

Today's garbage Spam email is a rerun, but boy, it's a good 'un.  RishOut, Your Prostate is the Size of a Lemon! (oh, the capitalization was mine--even my name wasn't capitalized in the email)  It's an oldie but goodie, and I noticed the sender's name was Bedtime Prostate.  Makes me feel less alone, somehow.

This will be the last time I make it to the library this week, and maybe for the rest of the month.  I was surprised to see none of the regulars up here on the second floor, from the homeless guy who lives up here to the scary wrestler-looking dude who is always reading the Wikipedia page for Shari Lewis and Lambchop.  But hey, that also means that Lizardface is absent, and boy oh boy, color me grateful for small favors.

I've crossed the 48K mark on "Balms & Sears."  Unfortunately, I've shown no signs of stopping.

Writing or Exercising: Writing 

*Truth be told, I have done a couple of stories like that, but you can only hear my own narration on my audio collections--when I do them on my show, I ask a female reader to do that part.

Blog 5/20 & 5/21

 5/20

The other day, I posted that I quit narrating a Ray Bradbury story halfway through because the book was due at the library, and asked if I should track down the book to finish recording it.  And my god, boys and girls, the silence was deafening.  My ears bled for about two hours straight.

Great.  My best pal just arrived, called me "The Fool," and called the guy next to me "The Faggot."  Ironically, it was in a bit of my book where I was reminding the reader (for the dozenth) time that Alec is too empathetic (I REALLY want to beat people over the head with it, the way I went out of my way to remind the reader of "Hatchling" that Rick was dumb and Talia was smart).  

I'm afraid I'm going to have to put the Lizardface guy in the book somewhere, if only so I can read that bit when I do the audiobook in 2025 and say, "Oh yeah, that was inspired by that asshole on the second floor of the library who got thrown off the balcony in 2022."

I get that he's mentally ill.  But I'm not Alec, so my sympathy is more limited.*

Writing or Exercising: Writing

5/21

I always get these stupid spam emails, and today I got one that says, "RishOut, Someone May Have Run A Background Check On You! View Rresults!"

First off, you spelled Reuslts wrong.  

And secondly, since these spam emails are all for phishing and stealing people's money, what's with the word "May" in there?  You're selling your lie short by using "May."  Nobody's gonna click on a link that says, "New Technique MAY Enlongated Your Member!" or "Website MAY Have Rare Photos of Lindsay Lohan When She Was Pretty," you know?

So, my Aunt Blanca had a leaky roof at her house, and a bunch of family members had been pitching in to help fix it.  I hadn't managed to drive over and help, but today, my mom and I drove down first thing in the morning so I could paint.  I got in a few hours of that kind of work where you feel like you've accomplished something, but I unfortunately ended up sunburning my arms and nose, and nobody likes that.

Writing or Exercising: Writing 

*I do tend to feel sorry for people you're not supposed to feel sorry for, like Woody Allen and Louie CK and most recently, George W. Bush, when he was giving that speech condemning Putin's illegal, unwarranted invasion of Ukraine, and accidentally said "invasion of Iraq."

Blog 5/18 & 5/19

5/18

I took my nephew (13) to his baseball try-outs this afternoon.  I didn't think it was particularly hot, but I was a smelly, sweaty mess by the time the hour and a half had expired.  Honestly, I can't imagine a homeless dude would smell worse than I do right now, but instead of taking a shower before I went to the library, I mowed the front lawn instead (thus increasing my stenchitude by a factor of two).  Oh, and I just farted . . . when you thought it couldn't get any worse.

Here at the library, you have to log on to use their computers, and the second you do, a timer at the top center of the screen begins counting down how much Time Remaining you have.  You can move the timer, but you can't get rid of it, and it serves as a constant reminder that there's a deadline, that you need to go a little faster, and of course, that you need to save your work and send it to yourself before the counter gets to zer--Oh, it logged me off with two minutes left on the counter again!

That was just an example.

I have said before that I thrive with a deadline.  Whenever I am asked to do a part or read a story for another podcast, I always want them to give me a date that it's due by.  Otherwise, I'll forget, and the time will pass like you-know-what going through a goose.

Take today, for instance: "Balms & Sears" is sitting at 44,114 words right now.  And that means that, if I write three hundred and thirty words, we'll be at the magical number of 44,444, which pleases my OCD like nobody's business.

Unfortunately, I couldn't leave well enough alone, and wrote the darn thing past 45,000 words before they started flashing the lights.  Sorry, guys.

Writing or Exercising: Both

5-19

PHANTOM MENACE came out twenty-three years ago today.  Huh.

Best moment in film history.

I disappoint myself to admit that I skipped school on that day, 

So, I sat down at the library, and --oh, profanity alert--fudgin' "lizardface" started to report me to his imaginary friend, before I'd even turned on the computer, this time calling me "Sigmund Freud."  I guess that's my codename, which I suppose I prefer to the other one.  But still, it struck me as particularly offensive today (for some reason).

Usually, I just ignore the fucking guy, but today, I stood up and said, "You know, I can sit somewhere else, no problem," and moved three rows away.  To my surprise, one of the other library patrons heard me and thought that was pretty funny.  I guess everybody's been called something by that crazy asshole a time or two.

So, before I write, I went running last night, and turned on my music instead of YouTube, and almost immediately came up with a scene I should write in my story, one that I could set up at the beginning, and pay off right before the end (where I currently am in the narrative).  But now . . . I cannot remember what it might have been.  Isn't that the worst?*

I had a couple of items I bought months ago from Target in my car, and keep forgetting to return them.  They used to have a really good return policy, but they've really clamped down lately, and sometimes it's almost as hard to return something there as it is at Walmart.  But I happened to have the receipt to these two items, still in the bag, which is good because it should make the return easier, and bad because those receipts expire, and every time I got home from Target WITHOUT returning them, I'd hit myself.

But today was the day, because today was the day that receipt expired, and I jetted off to Target before my mom went to work and I'd have to watch the four year old . . . and I forgot the return.

But since I had to take my nephew to his baseball practice anyway, I made sure to grab the bag and put it there on the passenger seat of my dad's truck (it has a carseat in it and my car does not).  So we headed over to Target, and even though the receipt said we had to get them returned before 5/19, the girl at Customer Service (who was eight years old) said that the receipt had expired.  I wasn't happy, but I was aware that I had waited until the absolute last minute, and wasn't going to make a stink about it (these were two Star Wars action figures I'd purchased for $19.99 each). 

But she got on the radio and asked her manager if she could take them anyway, and did one of those "no receipt returns" on my driver's license . . . and to my surprise, they now ring up for $24.99.  And that's what she gave me.  So, I guess it pays to procrastinate.

Writing or Exercising: Writing

*Kind of like when you have a dream, and can't remember it the next morning, or a great idea in the middle of the night, and it's completely gone by the time your alarm goes off, or you go to the library, and a mentally ill man tells his invisible FBI contact that you've shown up again and are up to no good? 

Blog 5/15 -17

 5/15

My spam email for today says, "Congrats RishOut! You Have Been Accepted!"  It felt pretty good, even without clicking on it.

My nephew, nearly five now, is finally old enough to go on a hike with me.  So, I chose the easiest one around, figuring he would get tired a mile or so in and I'd end up carrying him.  But I never did.  In fact, once we were done, he insisted on going faster than me down the trail, despite me saying, "Slow down, dude, you're gonna fall."  And darn it, he didn't.

He told me he was thirsty, right from the start, and there was a drinking fountain in the park next to the bottom of the trail . . . but it wasn't turned on.  So I told him, "We can stop and take a drink when we reach the bridge."  Which we did.

Then I told him, when we get to the stream, there are places where you can stick your face in the water and drink like that, which seemed to really appeal to him.  But the water levels are MUCH lower this year than they were in 2020 and 2021, the other times I hiked this trail, and in fact, the riverbed was bone dry half a mile from the waterfall.

This is the fifth or sixth time I've made that particular hike, and it was the busiest I've seen it, probably because it wasn't too hot and wasn't too cold.  There was a family that was playing at the edge of the top of the waterfall, and when their mother told them to line up for a picture, one of the kids knocked over his metal water bottle, and the waterfall took it.  She tried to retrieve it before it went over, and the mom started yelling about letting it go, and "It's not worth your life!"

So my nephew and I took off to the bottom of the waterfall, and were the first to arrive to see the condition of the water bottle, which was now in four pieces at the base of the falls (the lid had broken into two, the neck had snapped off, and the rest of the bottle was smashed, but intact).  And the kid just walked into the falls to grab it . . . which soaked him in icy-cold runoff water.

But hey, at least I didn't have to go in too.

Writing or Exercising: Exercising

5/16

I didn't leave myself much time to write at the library today, but let's see if I can't get a couple hundred words in.

I got a bit in, finishing the scene I started last Thursday or so.  I know a real writer (yes, I talk about Real Writers a bit too much, don't I?) would have finished the scene by Saturday, I'm okay with being only semi-real.

Back on May the 4th, because it was Star Wars Day, cable television was showing a marathon of SW movies, and at the end of the day, ROGUE ONE was on.  I figured I'd sit down and watch it (it was at the part where they leave the Yavin IV base and call themselves "Rogue One").  But it was Pan & Scanned, and there were commercials, and after about fifteen minutes, I realized that I could just switch over to Disney+ and watch it there, unedited and in the correct aspect ratio.

And there was a moment when the big Walkers with the orange doors on them attack, when one of the alien Rebel characters shouted, "AT-AT!" and it gave me pause.  He actually said the name out loud . . . so why is there still argument over how you pronounce it?  Of course, I've said it to rhyme with bat-bat for forty years now (well, thirty-eight and a couple of months, technically), but over the last decade or so, a contingent of fans (ALL YOUNGER THAN ME) have been saying the letters aloud, like Ay-Tee Ay-Tee, claiming that that makes more sense.*

Writing or Exercising: Writing 

5/17

My story "Balms & Sears" is about a fourteen/fifteen year old boy who is able to heal people by touching them, and today I was writing a part where he explains to two of his friends about his abilities.  "How long have you been able to do it?" Corwyn asks, and Alec tells him he was five years old the first time he remembered doing it.

And then, for no reason that I could say, I wrote that scene out, not as dialogue (as I usually would), but as a vignette.  I figured I'd delete it and share it on my podcast, but then I thought, What if it was the opening scene?  A prologue that shows what the story's gonna be about, instead of how I've written it, where I tell the reader, '"Alec Brownwood had a unique ability . . ."?

Huh.

Writing or Exercising: Writing 

*Though, Bossk as my witness, I've never heard anyone say "Tee-Eye-Eee Fighter" and I would commit first degree manslaughter if I ever did.

Podcast That Dares 34: John Charrington's Wedding

Rish performs (and discusses) Edith Nesbit's "John Charrington's Wedding" from 1891 . . . if he survives, that is.  

Hopefully, we'll be back on track soon to putting out episodes more regularly.

To download the episode, Right-Click RIGHT HERE.

To support me on Patreon, Left-Click HERE.

Logo by Gino "John Charrington's Shredding" Moretto.

Blog 5/13 & 5/14

5/13

Satan is his father, not Guy!*

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

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

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

Writing or Exercising: Writing

5/14

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Writing or Exercising: Both

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

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

Blog 5/11 & 5/12

 5/11

I got a paper jam today in the "new" printer.  Ugh.

But after I figured out the inner workings of the thing, it came right out . . . without breaking anything off inside.

I only had forty minutes to write tonight, and opened the Wikipedia page about Rodgers and Hammerstein, but before I knew it, they were announcing they were closing, I hadn't read any of the article, and I had crossed over the 41,000 word mark.  I wonder what I could accomplish if I came here at six or seven instead of eight o'clock.

I went to GameStop after I grabbed lunch (alone, I usually meet my cousin on Wednesdays), and they had an X-men figure I wanted to buy (it wasn't supposed to be out for months), but their computer said they couldn't sell it to me until . . . November?  What the what?  No big deal, I said, and tried to buy a Star Wars guy instead (I am incapable of simply being satisfied with nothing), and that one, the guy said, couldn't be sold until June.  Huh.  Out of curiosity, I asked about the overpriced Hulk figure.  First off, instead of the super-expensive $34.99 I assumed it would be, it rang up as $44.99 (!!!!!!), but secondly, it couldn't be sold until September.  Well, that couldn't be, so I asked him to ring up two figures I already bought a month or so back . . . and they couldn't be sold until the end of May.  That was super strange.

I grabbed an even older figure, from February or so, and it couldn't be sold until next week.  So we knew something was wrong.  I gave the guy my telephone number and asked him to save me the X-men guy for when the system got sorted out.

And here's the reason I'm typing all this: around five-thirty or so, I got a call from GameStop, and the guy said, "Hello.  I spoke to your husband earlier about an action figure, he tried to buy it but the system wouldn't let him?  Can you tell him that the problem is fixed now?"  I told the clerk that I was the one who had come into the store, but it made me think.  I'm flattered that he thinks I'm capable of getting some guy to marry me, but find it strange nonetheless.

WRITING/EXERCISE: Writing.

5/12

One of the goals I said I'd work on in 2022, besides that kiss-your-own-butt challenge all the TikTokers are obsessed with, was writing a story where there was a positive representation of a step-parent/stepchild relationship.  The year is almost halfway over, and I haven't taken a crack at it.  It's easy to say, "I'll tackle that one day," but I keep discovering how fast those one days pass by.

My four year nephew had a preschool graduation ceremony this afternoon, and I was pretty adamant that I wasn't going to go to it (he's got a dance recital on Saturday, and four is just too young to do anything, really.  I mentioned taking him to baseball practice the other day, right?), especially since he's going to be in preschool again next year, same teacher.  But because my sister and my niece both came over, and were making a big deal about it, I changed my mind.

I had made a Humpty Dumpty cartoon for him to hold up, and went through the rhyme with him three or four times (in addition to however many times my mom and sister rehearsed it with him), so I guess I was invested that much at least.  We walked three blocks to where the graduation was, and man, it was rough--the kids just couldn't stand still or be quiet, and my nephew didn't seem to know the words to any of the songs.

At least the kid wasn't the most troublesome child in the group (that was a little girl who kept jumping around, pushing other kids, trying to stick things into the fire alarm switch on the wall, and then burst into overloud tears when she felt either a) they'd been standing there too long, or b) the attention had been off her for too long.  The whole thing lasted around twenty-five minutes, which was just long enough (and too long to keep the children's attention, or that of the children in the audience).  At one point, to my horror, another kid also recited "Humpty Dumpty," but he didn't have a kick-ass illustration to go along with his.

The lesson I took after the little graduation was that whatever they're paying this teacher, it ain't enough.

Oh, I was pretty happy when that figure I bought with all my trips to GameStops yesterday sold today.  I was less happy when I got an email from the buyer, claiming her son bought it without her permission, and could I please cancel?  

Still, that stuff happens, so I listed it for sale again.  And before the end of the day, somebody else bought it (though for fifteen dollars less than the first buyer*).  And before I could do anything about it, that buyer too emailed me to tell me that it was a mistake and could we please cancel?

Of course I canceled and listed it (yet) again, but it does give me pause, wondering just how cursed this figure is, and how much ill luck will befall anyone who obtains it.

WRITING OR EXERCISE: Both.

*Which ultimately doesn't matter, does it?

Audio Collection 4 Now Available On Audible

Boy, this is a couple of years overdue, but I finally got out my fourth volume of short stories in audio, which I'm calling "Who Can It Be Now? and Other Storeis: The Audio Fiction of Rish Outfield.*

Gino created me yet another cool cover:

And within, you can find the following:

• Introduction 
• Who Can It Be Now?
• Radio Ga Ga
• Too Much Information
• Closet Case
• Message To My Girl
• Have It His Way
• Roll With The Changes
• Walk of Death
•  My Funny Valentine
•  Dying Is Easy
•  Skipping
•  Parent/Teacher
•  White House Tour
•  Try Your Luck
•  Troubled Child
•  Secret ‘Stache
•  Murdertown – 1 Mile
•  Z-Day Report
•  Mind Games
•  The Key Collector
•  Gatekeeper
•  Remember the Future

Italics designate Flash Fiction.

I don't know if anybody wants to buy it, but at least it's out there, and I can go on to the next one (should be "Hatchling," which is months overdue at this point).  If you'd like to support me, check it out HERE.

*Complete with misspelling.  I thought that gave it character.

Blogs 5/9 & 5/10

5/9

To my relief, the replacement printer came today.  Also, winter came again, as it was cold enough outside again today to make me wear a sweater and keep the window closed.  Of course, when I picked my nephew up at his football practice, he said it was hot and wanted the windows rolled down.  To each their own.

I've been reporting on the weird email messages I've been getting in my Spam folder.  Today I got one that said, "This is the WORST Food you can Possibly eat!"  Out of curiosity, I clicked on the link.  Yep, it's week-old potato salad.*

You won't believe this (well, I certainly don't), but with the writing I did last night before falling asleep (my laptop was still open next to me and the light was still on when my alarm went off) and what little I managed just now . . . "Balms & Sears" is now over 40,000 words long.

I guess it's safe to say I'm in the zone now.  Huh.

WRITING/EXERCISE: Writing.

5/10

Maybe I complain too much about the little hardships in my life, but being able to send a label to a printer and have it in my hand a minute (or less) later is really appreciated.

I took my four year old nephew to his baseball practice today, and it is the absolute beginner tier for sports . . . but even so, it was like wrangling a hornet's nest on that field.  My nephew hasn't even mastered catching a ball with his mitt yet, and it was frustrating to see how short the attention spans of the children involved were.  But when they split the kids and the parents into two groups and we had to throw a ball back and forth, well, that's when I discovered just how uncoordinated and unathletic I (still) am.  

Oh, I could catch the ball when he'd throw it (providing it came anywhere near me), but since he'd just stand there like a scarecrow with his arm out, I found it extremely difficult to get the ball into the mitt more than a single time.  I often wish I could go back in time and do my life over again, zigging when I originally zagged (or more likely, just sat on my hands instead of zigging or zagging), but to be the weakest, most backward and uncoordinated kid on any team again . . . well, that does not appeal to me in the slightest.

Well, I was pretty much just wasting my time here at the library, reading people's opinions of DOCTOR STRANGE 2 online and such, and it occurred to me that I ought to leave if I'm not going to do anything productive.  I wrote about four paragraphs, which isn't anything to brag about, but I'm going to take off, grab something to eat, and maybe finish editing the story I owe EscapeArtists.

I went to my cousin's house, who was feeling sick (he's been sick all this week, but made it clear that I am NOT in his will), and was able to watch the first episode of "Star Trek: Strange New Worlds."

It tells of Christopher Pike as Captain of the USS Enterprise on its five year mission, and somebody somewhere said it was the longest period of time between a pilot (1964) and the series it spawned (2022).  I quite enjoyed it, especially the optimistic, more fundamentally decent take on the "Trek" universe.

Oh, there's still a few things that remind me I'm not watching the "Original Series" or "Next Generation," but it didn't seem to have the disdain for those shows that some of the new stuff trumpets.  And I was both moved and inspired by the end.  I'll have to ask Marshal and my cousin what they think of the show.**

WRITING/EXERCISE: Writing.

*Actually, when I clicked on the link, there was a video that it wanted me to watch, and when I started to exit the page, this big "ARE YOU SURE YOU WANT TO CLICK AWAY?" window popped up.  I will never know what the worst food I could possibly eat is, so I'm destined to consume it one day. 

**There are still too many characters introduced to keep things super-straight, but because you're (presumably) already familiar with Pike, Spock, Number One/Una, Nurse Chapel, Doctor M'Benga, and Uhura, it's not quite asking so much of the viewers.