Well you’re in your little room
And you’re working on something good
But if it’s really good
You’re gonna need a bigger room
And when you’re in the bigger room
You might not know what to do
You might have to think of
How you got started
Sitting in your little room

-The White Stripes, “Little Room”

 

EGADS!!!

 

Over a month and no real post.  I apologize.  If I were the White Rabbit, my watch would have exploded and the Queen of Hearts would have disemboweled me by now . . . or was she a club?  A spade?  She should be spaded.  Hehe . . . veterinary humor.

 

If I vanish, tell me if my grin is the last thing you see.

 

But enough nonsense—where were we?

 

Books and Dead Things

 

 Book of Dead Things made it’s debut, from Twilight Tales Press, with my story, “Snow, Blood, and Sparrows.”  Mark your calendars, because there’s more signing/reading events:

-Thursday July 26, 6:30pm – 10:30pm
Signing & Reading
Double debut event for TALES FROM THE RED LION and
BOOK OF DEAD THINGS.
Kate the Great’s Book Emporium
5550 N. Broadway, Chicago

-Monday July 30, 7:30pm – 10pm
Signing & Reading
Twilight Tales Debut Party for
BOOK OF DEAD THINGS
Red Lion Pub
2446 N. Lincoln, Chicago

I’ll be at both events, signing and reading.

 

Strangeness in the Proportion

 

Working out preliminary concepts and notes and outlines on my novel, with my editor, James Lowder.  I think it’ll be interesting…but there’s going to be a lot of work before we finish that final draft.  Until then, I’ll have to keep meditating on absinthe and finding new ways to look at cadavers romantically.

It’s not easy.  I’m trying to get back into all the concepts and characters I’d thought of for the book, trying to remember what I was going for, what needs to be clipped away, what needs to be added—try and remember what it felt like, when the idea was fresh and new in my head in my dorm room, back then . . . and I feel stretch marks in my head . . . but once in a while I find that spark that started it all and then I think I might be on the right trail . . .

 

I’m Batman!…well…no…I’m actually just getting time and a half…

 

Nick and I finished up the filming we did as extras in the new Batman movie.  It was interesting.  We had to sign non-disclosure forms saying we wouldn’t tell anyone about the film . . . but we really don’t have much to tell anyway.  One day we were inmates.  Another day we were mobsters from the Maroni family

 

Ruin premiere coming up!

 

My friend, Matty Jacobson, will premiere his new film, Ruin, on the 21^st.  Nick is one of the stars in it and I dabbled, just a little bit, with one of the drafts of the script.

 

Magic . . . or something like it

 

So I’ve been a working stiff lately, in the mornings, and it’s playing havoc on my nocturnal biorhythms.  I teach two classes of magic and sleight of hand to children at an Orthodox Jewish summer camp in the city.  These kids have hardcore Hebrew names and my Gentile throat has struggled with flemmy sounds . . . but with their help, I’m starting to get the hang of it.

 

Lenore

 

Lenore, my beautiful indigo serpent, turns three years old tomorrow.  I’ve raised her from a twelve inch hatchling, to a six foot monster (and she still has some growing to do).  I think in about two years she’ll be big enough to turn and devour her master.  In that event, I’ll leave some mysterious manuscripts in the skeleton trunk on my bookshelf, to be published posthumously.

 

Musing on Obsidian Darkly…

 

I’ve been doing a few late night coffee outings with my good friend, Brayton lately (as he’s moved back into the immediate area).  This has led to those wonderfully strange, witching-hour, caffeine driven conversations where our eccentric dialogue eventually leads us to a place where we both agree on writing a story called something like “And Then I Cut Off His Head With A Broken Toilet.”

 

A little more coffee led to . . .

 

Brayton:  Ah, obsidian.

 

Josh:  Obsidian is the coolest substance ever.

 

Brayton:  Indeed.

 

Josh:  I want all my possessions to be made of obsidian.  I want . . . hey!  What if the toilet in the story is made of obsidian?

 

Brayton:  [laughs dismissively]  Riiiiiiight.  Who the hell has an obsidian toilet?

 

Josh:  . . . Michael Clark Duncan?

 

Brayton:  . . . okay.

 

Slip n’ Slide, puppets, Slip n’ Slide

 

Still got your calendars out?  MARK THIS.  It’s time for our next annual SLIP N’ SLIDE party—the revelry will take place on the last Saturday of August, August 25^th and will carry on, strong, all the way into Sunday.  BE THERE—if you’ve been to one of our slip n’ slide bashes, then you know why.  If not…then you need to find out.  You are invited (yes, YOU).  More details on this later…

 

Oh she keeps slippin’ away—an REM Persephone

 

Met this really cool girl . . .

            but I can’t remember her name.

I met this really cool girl . . .

            but the alarm keeps taking her away.

 

That’s all for today, lovelings.

 

Today’s post brought to you be the word posthumously, and the number π.

 

Pleasant dreams—and may all your eye movements be rapid.