Star Wars Celebration Blog 5/28

The parking situation on the first day was the worst one we had, not because it was far away, but because it was so expensive.  But the folks on Facebook said that parking at the actual convention center, while expensive, was cheaper, and you only had to walk another two blocks or so* more than the first day.  We couldn't find the car that night, though, when trying to leave, and discovered that we were in the wrong parking garage (the convention center has two), and had to spend nearly an hour waiting to get out of the building (the line was hundreds of cars long), but each day got a little better, as we figured out where the entrance was, and how we SHOULDN'T have approached it (the last day, we entered from the west, and eliminated ten or fifteen minutes of waiting we had put up with the other two days).

This was the day of the big "Mandalorian" Season 3 panel, so we went over as soon as we could, and didn't even try to get into the main stage where it was presented, but into one of the other two rooms to watch it there.  While the big lowpoint of the weekend was not getting into the Lucasfilm panel on the first day (despite having won the lottery for it), this was another lowpoint, as there was a young man (also named Ryan) at the end of the line who told us not to bother getting in the line, that the people at the back had "a zero chance of getting in.  In fact, you have a LESS than zero chance of getting in."  I didn't understand how you could have less than a zero chance, but he shrugged and said, "If you want to waste your time, go right ahead," but we were not getting in.

So (Cousin) Ryan and I went downstairs to tell Marshal the bad news (he had gone to the Twin Suns Stage to see if that line had been capped yet or not).  After an hour or so, the panel started, and I was disappointed to miss it (despite my reservations about the last episode, it has been a pretty excellent show).  Still am, but ah well.

On our way in, we saw a guy putting together what looked like a white Hulkbuster Iron Man costume (it took two other guys to assemble around him), and when we saw him walking around later, had to get a picture (or video) of him.  He had done an R2-D2 in Hulkbuster armor cosplay, and it was unbelievably impressive (heck, just a Hulkbuster alone would've been amazing).

We lined up to go to another panel in the same room as before, and I saw Ryan the Line Guy.  "Hey, I was one of the guys you told this morning had a less than zero chance of getting in," I said, "did any of those people end up getting into the panel?"  His face darkened and he said that ALL of the people in the line got in, and they let another hundred people go in after that.  He apologized profusely and said that he hadn't known how full it was, but had just been repeating what he was being told.

It taught me a lesson: just like the first panel of the first day (where Marshal saved seats for us, but they wouldn't let us in), there are spots available for the persistent, for those who wait by the doors even after the lines have been capped.  We didn't miss a single panel we wanted to go to after that conversation with Line Ryan.

We got to hear Doug Chang do his Powerpoint presentation, and even though I'm not a Prequels guy, I recognize how immensely talented the dude is, and enjoyed hearing him talk about designing various ships and environments, and how they were instructed to make Grogu smack in the middle between adorable and repugnant (what Jon Favreau had described as "Uglycute").  It's always a blast to look at the process behind design, and there were plenty of pictures.

When we were in the line for the Rancho Obi-Wan presentation, Marshal chatted with a middle-aged dude that was a huge collector of action figures, and boasted that he had over a thousand of what he called the ninety-five Star Wars figures, still in their original packages, which absolutely amazed me . . . until I realized that he wasn't referring to the original Kenner figures (sometimes counted as 91, sometimes as 92), but the 1995 Power of the Force figures.  Suddenly, his collection went from invaluable to pretty close to worthless.  But to each their own.

We had no problem getting in to see "I Am C-3PO" with Anthony Daniels.  Tony Daniels is an old school, vaudeville-type ham, putting on a performance just as big as any character in a space opera.  It was almost like a one man show (except he had a young guy that he played off, that would insult him and ask him questions and bicker with him in a way that wasn't quite natural but also didn't quite feel scripted), and he's gotten quite old somehow (I mean, jeez, STAR WARS only came out forty-five years ago, right?), but is still slim and so totally See Threepio.

We went to a presentation of "Tales of the Jedi," a new Dave Filoni animated series about past adventures of Prequel-era Jedi.  They showed the first episode, about the birth of Ahsoka Tano, and how her village discovered she had the Force, and it was pretty good stuff.  They also showed a bit of one they're doing about Count Dooku when he was younger, with Qui-Gon as his apprentice.  I felt some interest there, despite not being a fan of Dooku, but the thing that was surprising was the huge reaction the audience had when they showed Yaddle, a terribly-designed do-nothing character from PHANTOM MENACE, who was basically a female Yoda with no lines who disappeared after that first movie.  So weird.

As usual, there were people in amazing costumes walking around, and I took pictures of several of them, but there were plenty I didn't get photos of.  I neglected to mention that on the first morning, I saw a dude dressed in Padme's white outfit from EPISODE II, complete with the torn-out midriff.  But now that I'm typing this, it's coming back to me why I didn't mention it then.  Whoops.

They may have done this all four days, but on this particular day, out in front of the convention center, they had group photos taken of all the fans dressed as certain themes (such as Stormtroopers, X-wing Pilots, Fetts, Jedi, or Cindall Towanis).  We watched them line up while eating from the food trucks, and it was quite impressive.

I wanted a photo in front of a garrison of Snowtroopers, but I was too timid.  One lady, dressed as either Hoth Leia or Flo from the Awful Progressive Commercials, did get in with them and I took their picture.

The first day at the Kotobukiya booth, Ryan and I bought a Boba Fett statue, and a Chewbacca pin.  But every day after that, when we went there, they were sold out of the statue, and by Saturday, they were out of pins too.  They had a drawing to win the chance to buy a Yoda statue that was extraordinarily rare (only four were available, one for each day of the convention).**  We didn't enter the first couple of days, but I bugged the guys to enter today, even though Ryan said he doubted he'd buy it if he won, and Marshal said he'd rather smash the Yoda statue than pay money for it (apparently, Yoda's been known to say that "Idaho is just Alabama if you swap out burning crosses for potatoes," even though he claims that statement had been off the record).

You had to go back to the booth by 6:30pm with the winning ticket in order to "claim" your "prize" (ultimately, I decided both words merited quotation marks), and when we got there, it was 6:38, but sure enough, it was my number written on the board.  The girl in charge of the booth was a lovely Japanese girl, and she took my picture with the statue (after I'd paid for it) as though I'd won it.  I'm not going to complain about it (I COULD have chosen not to buy it), but I'm not sure what I'll do with the statue, and it does strike me as pretty irresponsible to have bought it when I did.  Maybe I'll mail it to Marshal as a mean prank.

Health-wise, this was the worst day for me, because I accidentally (no, that's not true, I CHOSE to eat them) ate a salad with carrots in it, and my food allergy combined with my head cold, and I felt pretty damned bad in the evening, my eyes turning red and my head quadrupling in weight.

Luckily, I always have allergy pills in my backpack, and I gobbled them down at an astonishing rate.  I didn't get much writing done at the end of the day, but having exercised or written every day this month, I wasn't about to let feeling like utter crap defeat me this close to the finish line.  I took both Sudafed and NyQuil before going to sleep, and felt quite a bit better when I awoke the next morning.

Writing or Exercise: Writing

*We did so much walking this weekend that, despite how much junkfood I ate, I actually weighed four pounds less than I had before we left.

**I'm not going to go into whether a contest where the winner gets to blow three hundred dollars on a statue is a valid contest or not, but I'm leaning toward not really.

Star Wars Celebration Blog 5/27

The Unholy Trinity

I had wanted to talk about the coolest thing we saw the day before, but the entry was already getting unwieldy.  Marshal had mentioned that Jon Favreau said that everyone should check out "The Mandalorian Experience" while they were there, and we tried to find it, not knowing what it was.

Turns out, it's a museum-type collection of costumes, props, and animatronics used on "The Mandalorian" and "The Book of Boba Fett," which you could look at up close.  They recommended you make an appointment, but that system wasn't working yet, but there was a stand-by line.  The sign in front of the entrance said the wait was forty-five minutes, so we went for it.  A little over two hours later, we got to go inside.

I'm not really complaining.  We sat on the floor and talked about, I dunno, "Space: 1999" and "Logan's Run: The Series" or something, and the time went by fine.  

"The Mandalorian Experience" was pretty spectacular, and I'd say that if they wanted to have it be a touring attraction, Star Wars fans would be happy to pay to walk through it and see the cockpit to the Razor Crest, the costumes Greef Carga, Cara Dune, Cad Bane, Moff Gideon, Garza Thwip, Fennec Shand, the Client, Black Krssantan, and all the Mandalorians wore, the modified N-1 starfighter, and props, weapons, decorations, droids, jawas, and the animatronic bantha, Grogu, and full-sized rancor head used in the various episodes.  

I walked around there for a good while, taking dozens of photos, but I could've spent another hour there, no problem.

We went to the "Light and Magic" panel, where various effects artists looked back at their time with ILM, part of an upcoming miniseries on Disney+ I will watch the crap out of.  Dude, it was like it was made for me.

Joe Johnston was among them, and speaking of him, there was another retrospective you could tour solely dedicated to Boba Fett, his history, and the various offshoots (like Jango Fett, Pre Vizla, Bo-Katan, and Sabine Wren).  That was much smaller, and it included items from various collectors, such as Steve Sansweet.  Once again, I was reminded that while I consider myself a Star Wars fan, I'm far from the biggest Star Wars fan.

We also went to the Hasbro panel, but I felt bad for Marshal, since it was about upcoming toys, and was (literally) the most skippable panel we went to.

There was also the "Star Wars Trilogy In 30 Minutes" panel I first saw in Indianapolis decades ago.  It was so full that it was standing room only, but I found it very worth it (Ryan and I both stood the whole time), and was as close to a religious experience as I had that weekend.  It reminded me of going to Nativity plays or midnight mass or some other ritualized religious service, except with more laughs.*

Look, I'd like to go into more of all this stuff, but I'm now literally two weeks behind on my blog (I've got a dozen posts ready to go but they're waiting for the Celebration stuff to go up first), so I'll leave you with this:

I wasn't nearly as tired tonight (at the end of the day) as I was yesterday, probably because Marshal allowed me to sleep in until eight.  But I still took a few minutes to work on "Balms & Sears" before allowing myself to sleep.  Actually, both Ryan and Marshal were very encouraging with my writing this weekend, even if it meant that I was still up when both of them were sleeping (or trying to sleep).

Writing or Exercise: Writing

*Of course, a young couple HAD brought their newborn with them, and it began to wail halfway through and they didn't hurry the childe out into the hall, dying with embarrassment.  Instead, they passed the baby back and forth, walked around with it, and tried to feed it while still staying in the room.  

Star Wars Celebration Blog 5/26

The logo's a bit outdated, but then, so am I.

When you're as tired as I am right now, having gotten up around six-thirty and walked for miles in and around a convention hall, it's less than desirous to have to write fiction at the end of the day.  Normally, I wouldn't even care whether I wrote or not, considering walking around could totally count as exercise (Marshal remarked that with is Stepcounter app, he could find out exactly how far he walked today, and I told him, "Oh, I bet it's miles and miles."

Marshal had this idea to get up at six, which is actually sleeping in for that guy, but Ryan and I are night owls (maybe fruit bats), and I wasn't looking forward to it.  But I'd awakened so many times in the night coughing that I welcomed the dawn.  We got out of the room before seven, and headed over to Anaheim.  

The first place we parked was free for the first twenty minutes, but anything past twenty-one and it was thirty-five dollars, which was worse than finding out you're adopted.  We'd stopped to get our wristbands and Ryan's pass from Will-Call, but couldn't quite make it out before the deadline, so that's where we were stuck.*

Because of COVID, they had this deal where every attendee had to either show proof of vaccination or a negative test, and you got a wristband when you showed that.  The wristbands had a long tightening end, and could not be removed.  But both Ryan and I pulled on that end the first day, making it insanely tight, so you could go back there and they'd slice yours off and give you a new one, then remove the tightening end (they'd realized the problem after hundreds of children had cut off their circulation that first day).

I'd never been to the Anaheim Convention Center, and it was huge and clean, with plenty of picturesque spots for photos, including a tiered section out in front where various costumed folk gathered throughout the weekend for pictures with their groups.  Honestly, if you had missed out on tickets for one of the days (as many folks did), you could hang out there and see thousands of cosplayers for free.

Because we were hours early, we got the idea to walk to the local Denny's, but we took a wrong turn and walked--no exaggeration--more than a mile out of our way.  To his credit, Marshal didn't complain about my brilliant idea to take the convention center's rear entrance, rather than walk all the way back to the street (which would've saved us, oh, five or six days' walking - whoops).  At Denny's, I was pretty ravenous, figuring it might be my only meal of the day.  It shocked me how much it was, though, unless I was paying for all three of us, and I pouted for a while about that (especially when Ryan said he was starving two hours later**).

They'd had a lottery system set up for the most popular panels, and Marshal had won the lottery for the first one, and since my pass was linked with his (I had done it before entering the lottery), I knew I'd get in too.  But I didn't.  They said only Marshal had won, despite him being able to get in four additional guests with his lottery ticket*** and Ryan and I got in the Stand-by line.  Eventually, Marshal's group was let in, and our line was told we would not get in, despite Marshal texting that there were tons of available seats.  In retrospect, we should've gone to one of the other rooms showing the same panel, or hung out by the doors, saying "Our friend's in there and has empty seats next to him."  But we didn't understand how clueless the line-managing volunteers would be.

I pouted for a few hours.  Ryan and I walked around the vendor floor, which was unimpressive (that's not true, there were various artists there showing off their work, and one flat-out changed the subject when I told him I wanted to buy one of his prints ("Yeah, I brought a few of those, but let me tell you what they did to me . . .").  I'd have blown a hundred dollars on it, but he didn't want my money (my nose is pretty big, I get that), and I bought another expensive print from a different (less-talented) artist.

One of the booths, Dorkside Toys, was selling action figures for retail price (and actually selling a couple of them for less than retail).  But that was because they are a store that gets them at a wholesale price . . . but it still doesn't explain why they wouldn't mark them way the hell up to sell to collectors.  I spoke to Robo, an online personality I follow, and asked him if they'd be even cheaper on Sunday, and he said his boss wanted to get rid of everything, so as not to have to pack it all up again, but I still bought four figures from him then.****

They had a cool photo-op section with various costumes on display, as well as a full-scale TIE Fighter.  It had a line to take pictures in front of, but as I waited, two costumed girls stood under it and began to tongue-wrestle.  That was good enough for me.  Is ANYTHING good enough for you?

Almost all the vendors had overpriced Star Wars junk, but it was selling like crazy, which is to be expected*****, but only the Dorkside booth was selling stuff for fairly cheap, and they probably made five times what the other booths made.  The Kotobukiya booth had a great white costume Boba Fett statue that I bought one of (it was one per customer per day), but was never able to get a second one to resell (I'll probably sell off the one I got, since I never do anything with them). 

There was also a new toyline on display of Star Wars ships, which will be in scale with each other (for the first time), and seem pretty cool, but also aimed at children (which is probably smart), and my cousin vowed to buy most of them (we'll see what he says this fall when they're in stores).

Eventually, Marshal came out and I stood in line with him, talking about what he had seen.  He'd gotten a free poster (for the Cassian Andor show), and talked about seeing John Williams and Harrison Ford, and held up a sparkly wristband that meant he was invited to see the first two episodes of "Obi-Wan Kenobi" that night in an exclusive screening.  I was happy for him, but not really.

There was a mask policy in force the whole time, and while it was a pain, I understood (and it would've been more bearable had I not been coughing and blowing my nose half the day).  But there were also attendees that not only took their masks down, but didn't seem to have any with them, and I think I remember only twice hearing employees tell people to get their masks back on.  Of course, literally a quarter of the attendees had Mandalorian, Clone, or Stormtrooper masks on, which I suppose makes it easier.

Wow, the cosplay was more impressive than anything I've ever seen before, including San Diego Comic Con (although in its defense, you see a lot more hot chicks walking around in sexy outfits, probably because they're paid to do that), with entire legions of the Emperor's best troops marching around with their fans.  I took pictures of a few of the most elaborate ones, but there were hundreds I never saw which were probably just as cool.

Eventually, the guys got hungry again, and I kicked myself for not bringing a soda along in my backpack, like I try to do every time I go to a convention, conference, or movie shoot.  That afternoon, Ryan and I went to a Target down the road and bought some Diet Doctor Pepper, which I made last the rest of the weekend.

I'm going to skip ahead and mention that we got in a slow-moving line to see the efforts of various droid designers from across the country, and I was impressed by all the variations you could make of Artoos and BB-8s.  This is something that Marshal has wanted to do for years, but alas, he was unwilling to sell his youngest child on the black market to be able to afford to pursue the hobby.

You weren't supposed to touch anything in any of the exhibits, but this one was so unguarded that, yes, I took the opportunity to lick a Gonk Droid.

There was a fully animatronic C-3PO that I could've stared at for hours, and fans' self-made mouse droids, astromechs, treadwells, BB-units, and an EV-9D9.

Dude.

K-2So what?

Of the four days, this was the one where I went to the fewest panels, but that was mostly because I wanted to look around and, let's face it, they wouldn't let me into any.

My favorite costume of the day was a guy who looked like a better-than-screen-accurate Bossk, and we got a photo of him putting me in a headlock.  I would LOVE to have a costume just like that, as the Bossk mask and gloves I currently own are made for fans seven feet tall and above.

I mean, check out his feet!

Eventually, it was time for Marshal to get in line to watch "Obi-Wan," and though the volunteer I asked said no one without sparkly wristbands would be allowed in, I suspect I could've gotten in to see it, if I'd really, really tried.

Regardless, Disney+ decided to release "Obi-Wan Kenobi" a couple of hours early, so we sat down to watch it just as Marshal was being let out of his screening.  We told him we'd pick him up, but he was going to walk back to Denny's, eat, and we'd get him there (he was going to take an Uber, but his phone was dying, and we were willing to get him anyway).  That gave us time to watch most of the first episode, leave, pick him up, and come back to the show before it got too late.  

We finished both episodes "Obi-wan Kenobi" tonight, despite my insistence hours earlier that I was NEVER going to watch it, as an eff you to the Star Wars Celebration.  The show wasn't bad, but didn't really speak to me, except for the scenes with Bail Organa and ten year old Princess Leia.  I'll probably talk about that later, but boy, this blog post is getting out of hand, and will probably get published a full week late (or worse).

I was worried that my legs would cramp during the night, so I took some painkillers in addition to NyQuil, and being exhausted helped me sleep the best of all the nights, not moving until the next morning.

Writing or Exercise: Writing

*There had been a Facebook group you could join of convention attendees, and it turned out to be a lifesaver, as other fans explained how to get certain things, where to find the panels, and where the cheapest place to park was (it was twenty dollars a day, and only slightly less convenient than where we'd paid $35).

**And two hours after that.  And two hours later.

***Some poor bastard online had said, "I have FIVE children, what the spank am I supposed to do?!?"  To which, naturally, the answer was, "Give your wife a break and wear a condom, you randy bastard."

****And on Sunday, the prices were actually the same (and two of the figures that had been $15 on Thursday were now $20), so I'm glad I did.

*****Being around people who love (and are talking constantly) about Star Wars is infectious, and you end up wanting to buy stuff that you'd never want on your own.  I imagine it's how mobs are formed.

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.