Word Vomit

That’s what I call things like this. I think I’m just going to dump some thoughts out here. All the little things that’ve been wandering across my skull, in and out of my ears, well, one ear anyway. Let’s start there.

I’ve not been able to hear out of my left ear for almost a week. Some blight upon my soul no doubt. It’s an infection of some ghastly type wherein fluids have flooded the poor eardrum. So, still waiting for these antibiotics to take affect and make me undeaf on the left. The right ear, he’s doing quite fine it seems.

My e-mail address isn’t working right now either. Quite annoying as I know that I’ve an important e-mail coming today. Not that I usually get many important e-mails, or e-mails of any type for that matter, but I’m positive one came today in regards to some class changes I made. Really need to see that.

We’ve officially a new president in amerika. Something to be proud of, I suppose. Europe thinks so, anyway. I’m not convinced yet, but that has more to do with my complete mistrust of the government and all who take part in it than it does with the newly appointed president. I watched the inauguration, never done that before, and it scared me, to be quite honest. Something about all those people chanting and cheering and clapping sent chills down my spine. Also, the whole ceremony seemed so stupid. I didn’t much care for Obama’s speech either. Lots of blowing smoke, if you get me. And the supposed poem that the poet lady read, good god, it sounded like a list a ten year old would make. Nothing poetic or artful about it. There was one thing that made it all worth it though, when they announced Obama they said, Barack H. Obama, which seemed just oh so silly in the best of ways. Remember kids, our president has a scary middle name not to be uttered in public lest a riot ensues. Fantastic stuff there. But really, the rest of it, all the hype and hooplah, besides just being frightening, reeked ingenuous.

Man, I think there was a lot I wanted to say here, but I fear I’m already losing steam.

Oh, Steve Erickson, forgot to mention. He’s an author, maybe one of the best living writers. I’ve only read two of his books, but they blew me away. Read both of them in two sittings. They have this beauty that haunts you and shifts the way the world spins, if only for a second. He’ll leave you breathless and near tears and you’ll be screaming in your head for more and more and more after you finish that last line that somehow, someway, fit everything that happened just so succinctly and perfectly that you’ll never want to speak or think again less it taint that memory, those words, that feeling you felt so fleetingly. Yeah, getting carried away. The point is, buy him and do it now. He mixes surrealism, a crumbling world, love, and the human soul just so right. I think he’s written seven books. I’ve read Rubicon Beach and Days Between Stations, which, I believe, are his first two books. But, yeah, do it.

Another book I read recently was just so much fun that I feel like sharing. The Sacred Book of the Werewolf by Victor Pelevin takes a bit of Zen buddhism, a few parts love story, throws in werewolves, mixes, then pours two cups of funny in, lets it sit, and pours it ontop of modern day Russia. Really, just so much fun. And as you should know, anything werewolves is an easy sell for me. I’ll watch it, I’ll read it, but few times have I been this satisfied with the outcome. Fantastic.

I’m getting published on the thirty-first of the month at Colored Chalk. Pretty proud about it as it’s a real all star line-up. Last time I got published with my hero, Stephen Graham Jones, which I’ll probably never get over. This month there are a few more ‘name’ authors as well as a few no-names like me. Colored Chalk is a young magazine but it’s picking up in all the right ways. Very excited to be a part of it, though I’m a bit late coming to it all. I’ll post a link up when it becomes available. The issue, I mean.

And that brings me to my writing. I’m gonna work on actually sending my stuff out. And to more places than just Colored Chalk, try to get in all over. I’m waiting to hear back from a vampire anthology coming out in the spring, but other than that, I’ve just these stories lying around. My stories, I was thinking about them last night. They’re all kind of similar despite how dissimilar they are. They all have very closed settings–usually just one room, maybe a whole house–most of them have no more than two characters, and they all tread the same water. That meaning, they’re about identity, or rather, the loss of identity, the crumbling of memories and erasure of the past: they’re about loss and love and a crippling weight, but, ideally, there’s a bit of redemption in them. Despite the world slipping between their fingers, they find something else, maybe just a hand or a leaf to hold onto and keep their feet moving.

But, yeah, not sure why it all works out that way. Probably just the nature of me and how I feel about memories. I think about them all the time. I mean, memories are reconstructions; they’re just stories we tell ourselves about what happened before. And they inform every action we make because, though they may not be real or accurate, they are all of us. Quantum Physicists say, all time is now, and I think that’s true. The past is just a construct and we can manipulate it to our will, to the way we want to continue our lives. The future’s yet to happen but it’s informed by our reconstructed past. That meaning, the way we view our past will influence and determine the way we live our future. The present, well, the present is where all of this collides. Where our memories, our biology, our emotions, our thoughts, our futures all come together and supernova into action. It’s all very strange and I still think I’ll never get over how bizarre it is to be alive.

On a completely different note. Sunday, I think it was, I woke up feeling utterly fantastic for no reason whatsoever. I walked outside, couldn’t hear out of my left ear, but smiled with the wind on my face. Every step reminded me how great it is to be alive. You know, just how awesome it feels to see the sunshine and the hustle and bustle of a busy street.

That seems sufficient for now. I’m going to Cork tomorrow, so I may have some photos to share next week. I’ll try to stay more regular on here as it seems a few of you read this. Though, actually, I was wondering about that. I have a lot of hits on this site, but I wonder how many of you actually read any of it. I mean, I know I click on links just because and never intend to read what’s on there. Especially if it’s a weblog. I’ve never read one, so why should you? Well, I’ll keep writing on here anyway.

Adios, space cowboy.


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