14 Friday Dec 2007
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Early a.m. and reorganizing and moving furniture, in preparation for my new bed (phase 2 of the plan to improve my sleeping habits).
Come across an old high school letter.
Smile.
Smile unfurls.
Things left unsaid.
Things I couldn’t say back then.
And I’ve managed to lose track of her–all contact info two steps behind the years.
Argh!
Hey. You out there? You reading this now? . . .
. . .
No. Probably not.
Bah!
12 Wednesday Dec 2007
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So my friend Dori bought the video game Rock Band today.
He, Nick, and I played. It was quite fun. You can design your own rocker (all the way from looks and hair and ink and face paint and accessories and even movements and so on) and put them together to form a band. We made computer versions of ourselves and rotated between drums, guitar, and vocals.
Our band’s name is Grabthar’s Hammer.
If the writing thing doesn’t work out…I’ll fall back on that…
Vote Dead Things!
The anthology, Book of Dead Things from Twilight Tales, has been nominated by Dark Scribe Magazine for the “Best Dark Fiction Collection” prize in their Black Quill Awards. Click on the link and give us a vote, if you feel so inclined. If you don’t know the anthology, then just click HERE to read a handful of the short stories found in the book (including mine: “Blood, Snow, and Sparrows”).
10 Monday Dec 2007
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Someday, I will be rich and I will own a race horse and I will name him “Catherine the Great’s Death”.
07 Friday Dec 2007
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I’m driving.
It’s night.
These are good roads.
These are back roads twisted and windy—curvy roads, hug the curve and I get butterflies in the stomach like a nervous high schooler in the back seat—twisted roads, no straight lines, no grids, no mundane workman’s web, no banality—bogs and wetland and river bridge and repeat. Good night drive roads—more hobgoblins per capita here—I can think on these roads, head haunted by caffein, understand Ray Bradbury love affairs with October.
These are good, twisted roads.
They’re some cthonic monster’s spine.
And I’m a jolly shiver.
Lots of skeleton trees on these roads—skeleton branches—post-October claws—giant, scarecrow hands reaching greedily for handfuls of stars or the moon, some kind of game that the scarecrow gods play but I don’t understand, cosmic jacks in the void. Spoils? I don’t know. But I once heard tell that the moon starts the month empty and dark—then fills with luminous souls, and when full, releases the ghosts whither they go.
I accelerate.
Scarecrow gods snatch more franticly.
Mayhaps their game comes to a close.
And sometimes I wonder: are there any ghosts that resist the moon?—space vacuum muting their necro-howls, as they claw the earth, gripping so tenaciously they tug the tides. And sometimes I wonder: where do moon-dumped souls go?—maybe the winnings of some lucky scarecrow.
I accelerate.
I hug a curve.
Did I mention that I love curves?
The full moon and the skeleton hands are in my driver’s window. The perfect song plays on my speakers—I accelerate to the perfect speed—I hug the curve at the perfect angle. I bob my head, it’d look strange to a passerby, but I bob my head, crane my neck, undulate my viewpoint—partly to the music, but mostly to make the moon, through my eyes, dance in the perfect manner: bouncing through branches, alluding bone hands.
I accelerate . . . maybe a little too much.
But speed limits and “no smoking” signs support the common fallacy.
Habits loose all their poetry if they can’t kill you.
I put it all together, my multi media artwork—the song, the speed, the curve, the moon motion on scarecrow orgy backdrop . . . and I hit it, a perfect moment. Just a split second. The moon oozes through the smudged glass, bleeding ghost plasma on my dirty window.
Perfect.
A truck passes, high-beam-bubble-bursting.
Snap back.
I realize this is silly. I realize that this little work is too etherial, as etherial as they come—just this one moment, for an audience of me, and no way to record it not way to crystalize it and share it with another pair of eyes. Hell, if someone was sitting in my passenger seat I still couldn’t have shared it, would have to stuff them in my skull windows. But then, another fast curve seduces me and with a hiccup and a cackle I realize and I know that etherial is important. This is important.
That I do this.
That I don’t stop.
That I never stop.
03 Monday Dec 2007
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Sleep is the wife that I neglect for things like work and other pursuits. She isn’t pleased. She says we never spend any quality time together anymore. Even when I do manage to get her in my embrace, it’s always fitful, never very deep, and rarely lasts long. She always stalks off, leaving me alone, red eyed and clutching a pillow. She’s threatening to divorce me for good . . .
Let’s see…it’s been awhile—what’s gone on in the last month:
Flattery Will Get You Nowhere
On Wednesday, I had to pull yet another 33 hour 3rd-shift/day-job/3rd-shift day. During the day I subbed for a friend, teaching an after-school magic class. I was told the kids were “wild”…but the children turned out great. They were wild because they were very young (the youngest I’ve taught), but they were just very enthusiastic. Many were actually trying to be helpful. I even found two of the little girls waiting outside the room when I left—they were worried I might get lost. It was the most fun and easy $100 for an hour of work.
That night, I sat on the sofa, somewhere between sleep and wakefulness, watching Boston Legal with my parents to pass the very short hour before I had to go to 7-11 for the night shift. I’d been awake for well over 20 hours. I wasn’t happy.
My mom got up to get a drink. “You have a cute ass,” my Dad said.
“I appreciate it,” I said, groggy and gloomily, “But, man….that’s just not cheering me up.”
Bubbles and Bullets
The weekend before Halloween I got to visit my goddaughter, Reese 🙂 Her grandfather took me and her daddy out shooting his handguns. I don’t have much experience with guns. But, as it turns out, I’m a pretty good shot and did the best that day. Afterwards I got to play in the bubbles with Reese and her mother gave me the coolest Halloween card ever.
I had to work Halloween night 😦
The weekend after Halloween, I did manage to go to a Halloween party at Jerry and Robb’s apartment. I went as the great pumpkin. My mask never came in the mail…so I had to get creative with make-up. I didn’t manage to get any pictures…other than these webcam shots (the makeup was a bit smeared by then and I didn’t have the costume on):
Of Music and Memories
A friend and neighbor, John, died just over a week ago, suddenly and unexpectedly of some sort of heart problem. He was only 53. I got the call about it just before going to bed, after the 3rd shift. My family and I rushed over to his house for any emotional support we could offer his wife, Deb. The police had to shoo us out right away, though, as the coroner hadn’t even been there by the time we arrived.
His wake was a few days later. My little sister, Danielle had never seen a dead person before and I think it weirded her out a bit. A lot of people came out. John touched a lot of lives. He’d told me stories about his wild days working at a ranch and entertaining. He always wanted to sit down with me and put those stories to pen and paper. Meeting him later in life, these exploits were just stories for me…until I saw some of those character manifested at his wake. For music, they just plugged in John’s iPod. I think this was a good move. It was his music. I was impressed how an iPod could become a sacred reliquary of someone’s life. Another neighbor made a touching speech about John, about how he and Deb had a big family with lots of other siblings (the other neighbors on the block) and a lot of kids (us neighbor kids growing up on the block). Deb pulled me aside at one point to tell me how proud he always was of me.
There’s more to type . . . but not in the scope of this entry. Maybe later—all the normal clichés this type of thing inspires. But I hate to be cliché…I might have to filter the sentiments through odd, metaphorical characters—maybe in this case it would be dialogue between a living vampire pumpkin and manic-voiced anthropomorphic personification of nostalgia (in this case, personified by a talking pogo stick with a chicken leg and rabbit head). Maybe.
I’ll really miss John come the next Buffett concert.
I have a tremendous compulsion to keep my iPod updated.
7-11 No More
On a particularly impulsive Wednesday, I quit 7-11. I’m going to write my novel full time, for the next couple months, get that done and work on fixing my shattered sleep cycle. I’ll worry about regular work after that.
Book of Dead Things: A Nomination
On November 25th, I and some of my fellow anthology authors did a live reading and book signing at Café Aeon, for our book, Book of Dead Things. It was fun. We sold a few books. I love doing live readings and Café Aeon is a great place to do them (the other authors agreed). And now a few copies of Book of Dead Things can be found on the cafe’s shelves.
Also, over at Dark Scribe Magazine, Book of Dead Things was nominated for Best Dark Genre Fiction Collection. If you click the link and register, you can vote for us (come on! do it!!!).
Coming Soon
Danielle got the job as princess at Medieval Times! She’ll start up sometime in January. You should go there, eat without utensils, and cheer my sis on.
Conclusions…
Me and Sleep are getting along a little better. She’s even shared the same bed with me a little. I told her we might get therapy. Maybe there’s hope for us after all.
23 Friday Nov 2007
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Several of my fellow authors and I will be doing a book signing and reading event over at the darkly atmospheric Cafe Aeon, to promote our book, Book of Dead Things (published by Twilight Tales)
The show starts at 7:30 pm on Sunday, November 25th at:
Cafe Aeon
3918 W. Main St.
McHenry, IL 60050
Cafe Aeon’s Website
So come on out–hear some stories about dead things in the sort of venue that they’re meant to be read in–stories running the gamut, from horror to humor and even with heart…and sometimes all three–and enjoy some tasty works of coffee alchemy while you’re at it.
15 Thursday Nov 2007
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11 Sunday Nov 2007
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30 Tuesday Oct 2007
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Going mad-mad-mad in third-shift land . . .
John, my venerable cop chum who I’ve befriended in my graveyard shift pulled me aside and gave me a hushed warning, told me to call him if there was ANY sign of trouble and I thought to myself, “Cripes! I’ve been awake for 29 hours…I can’t handle a gang war.”
We’ll get back to that.
First though, and more cheerfully, it’s a scientific fact that hot cider tastes better while listening to ghost stories. I got to further support this theory on the 20th, at Volo Bog.
Second, I apologize to all my close friends, all the friends I normally see on a normal basis, all my far flung friends that I might visit on occasion, and all you electronic lovelings on the internet—I’m way, way, WAY behind on emails and even further behind on phone calls. I’m not shunning anyone. I’m just in a frenzied, bad place and have very few hours. By way of example…let’s get back to the start of this post…
I’ve been working 40 hours each week, 3rd shift, at 7-11 (the artist formally known as White Hen)—but with the wind chill and demanded extra shifts; it’s more like 50+ hours. I don’t want to get off on a rant about my job, but I think that if I died and went to Hell, it would be working at a convenience store, and all the clocks would be broken, and my watch would be blank, and I’d keep doing tasks of Sisyphus-level productivity, and occasionally ragged, insane, and damaged lost souls would wander in and jabber incomprehensibilities before leaving and my mind would be too fogged to recall what day it was or when my shift began or when it would end, too fogged to recall just what lay outside the fogged store windows…
Meanwhile, a couple Wednesdays ago, my brother Nick and I went to Chicago for an audition he discovered on Craigslist for the pilot episode of a TV show about vampires. Brutal traffic, but we make it on time and the we do some readings and it goes well. The director seems impressed with the both of us. He’s in a rush to cast the thing and film it over the weekend (it’s more of a pilot teaser to shop around).
Nick, our friend Dori, and I all go and film as badass vampires, a couple of Saturdays ago. But that Saturday I was told (I was not asked) that I would fill in for someone and work at 7-11. That meant a 33+ hour workday: 3rd shift Friday night into Saturday morning, straight to the shoot Saturday morning into Saturday evening, straight to another 3rd shift. I’ve been awake that long before . . . but never actively working straight through it (except for a 40 hour writing stint when I was finishing the White Wolf novel draft, which caused me to go quite mad). My body didn’t like that. My mind started giving out. And to top it all off, John the cop came and informed me (in whispers) that there was a potential gang battle between two gangs from towns on the opposite sides of my town (and I being only thing open in the misty-mid-region between). This was not the thing I wanted to hear at a point in time, when I thought the cash register was changing the locations of it’s keys on me as part of some prank (and I swear I could hear it laughing Puckishly!).
No gang battle. John and his comrades shut down a party one of the gangs was throwing (apparently to plan nefarious deeds), and said bangers were sent packing back to their town. John came back to inform me. I gave him more free donuts, coffee, and sandwiches. I got home Sunday morning, saw Nick sleeping, and realized, to my horror, that he had slept twice in the time that I was awake.
Fast forward to Monday the 22nd. Nick gets call from the vampire director. Bad news, he lost the footage (computer crash)—could we film again on Wednesday. Yes. This meant another long day for me (3rd shift—shoot—3rd shift). Egads! I had enough Monster energy drinks to flat-line the Leviathan.
But I survived.
This is just to illustrate why I don’t have much time for socializing. It’s not you, it’s me and . . . ugh . . . sorry . . . cliché head freeze.
There is one tiny advantage to this burn-out pace—I’ve lost 7 pounds in the last week and a half. Of course, it’s probably not healthy weight loss. It’s probably seven pounds of muscle, internal organs, and happiness.
I got to loose this job.
Saturday night, I started yawning.
“No yawning yet,” said the woman I was training.
“I’m not yawning,” I said, “I’m screaming very quietly.”
16 Tuesday Oct 2007
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I generally avoid these things like the plague. . . but I do about one a year and it’s been more like two . . . so . . .
1. Do you sleep with your closet doors open or closed?
I sleep with the closet doors shut, while hanging upside-down during the day…thinking of you.
2. Do you take the shampoos and conditioner bottles from hotel?
Is that a philosophical question?
3. Have you ever ‘done it’ in a hotel room?
No I have never had sexual intercourse with Cousin It at a hotel? I am offended by this line of questioning. God! Could you imagine all the hair slivers and . . .
I . . .
. . . what?
. . . oh . . . OH.
I see. A colloquialism.
How embarrassing. In that case, my answer is yes, yes I have.
4. Have you ever stolen a street sign before?
Yes, but only because it was making fun of the slow child on the block.
5. Do you like to use post-it notes?
I have virtual post-it notes on my computer.
6. Do you cut out coupons but then never use them?
No I use coupons but never cut them. I throw full sized, Sunday edition newspapers at the heads of cashiers in the check out line, yelling, “Coupon!”
7. Would you rather be attacked by a big bear or a swarm of a bees?
I’d rather be attacked by a giant bear who was composed of many bees. I would tame him, name him Stabby-Face, and we would run off and be the best of friends and there would be folk songs about our adventures.
“Gonna tell ya a story
‘bout a boy and a bear
a boy and his bear
a boy and his bear
Jo-oshua and Stabby-Face
Stabby-Face
the magic bear made of bees
sure as you please
he’s made of bees
made of bees”
8. Do you have glasses?
No.
9. Do you always smile for pictures?
I make a charmingly odd assortment of faces for pictures, relying primarily on the power of my devastatingly expressive eyebrows. They’re good eyebrows. Seriously. If you have sex with one eyebrow this holiday season, make it one of mine.
10. What is your biggest pet peeve?
Frivolous, selfish bulletins clogging up my day.
Fuck!
11. Do you sleep with your sheets tucked in or out?
The sheets always fall from the cruel grip of my talons in the closet (see question #1)
12. Do you ever count your steps when you walk?
What of it? Huh? You tell me a better way of stepping the square root of the number that quiets the voices in my head and I’ll fucking stop.
13. Have you ever peed in the woods?
Yes. Once upon a time I was a boy scout. Being a boy scout means responsibility…and early in life I learned that responsibility basically translates to memorizing long oaths and a peeing in the woods.
14. Do you ever dance even if there’s no music playing?
I have a huge imagination. HUGE. If my imagination were breasts I . . . I . . .
. . . sorry . . . lost of my train of thought, thinking of breasts that large . . .
In any case, if I start dancing, trust me, there will be music playing. For me.
15. Do you chew your pens and pencils?
Yes. Very often. Freud and I once got into a discussion about that and I had to punch him out.
16. How many people have you slept with this week?
Just me and my dreams, man.
17. What size is your bed?
Fuck’sake asshole. Just had to twist the knife on the fact that I’m sleeping alone these days, didn’t you?
18. What is your “Song of the week”?
I don’t know. My thoughts are too fickle and my tastes too eclectic to say.
19. Is it okay for guys to wear pink?
Sure. I won’t. But sure.
20. Do you still watch cartoons?
Absolutely. Guys that sleep alone watch cartoons.
21. What’s your least favorite movie?
Tough one. Some movies are so bad that they’re endearing (Plan 9 From Outer Space).
If pushed, I’d have to say Andy Warhol’s Dracula. It’s bad, but in no way endearing.
22. Where would you bury hidden treasure if you had some?
I’d hide it on Herpe-Harlot Isle. “That’s not an Aztec curse on ye gold . . . but it be about as bad. Yar.”
23. What do you drink with dinner?
Water.
24. What do you dip a chicken nugget in?
You’re mama! Zing!!!
Sorry. Couldn’t help it. Seriously though…
Sweet n’ Sour sauce (or honey BBQ).
25. What is your favorite food/ cuisine?
Those little orange and brown wrapped candies that bitter old people hand out during Halloween but no one eats. I believe the bitter elderly put all of their spent life into those putrid candies and that if you eat one, you surrender your youth to them . . . and I plant them in my backyard with dreams that a scary, malevolent tree will rise from the ground to do my bidding.
26. What movies could you watch over and over and still love?
The Crow, Dark City, Wolf, Grosse Point Blank, Nightmare Before Christmas . . .
27. Last person you kissed/kissed you?
Not sure I recall . . . and I don’t mean in the cool, cheeky, promiscuous “I can’t remember” kind of a way…but more of the “I’m straining my brain to recall” variety.
28. Were you ever a boy/girl scout?
Yes.
29. Would you ever strip or pose nude in a magazine?
I’d certainly be willing to be the photographer.
30. When was the last time you wrote a letter to someone on paper?
I think it was to my teacher/mentor, Nancy Perkins. When I take the time to write a letter, I make sure to put a wax seal on the envelope.
31. Can you change the oil on a car?
No. Not in this state. Not since…the incident.
32. Ever gotten a speeding ticket?
Many. Central IL cops think I’m some sort of criminal. I often get searched for weapons on routine stops down there…probably because I dress like the neighborhood watch sign. They never understand that people who are actually up to no good don’t wear black fedoras (they probably think I have large bags with $$$ on them).
33.Ever ran out of gas?
Once. But there was an abandoned mansion just up the road . . .
34. Favorite kind of sandwich?:
Roast Beef Pannini (with tomato and cream cheese)
35 Best thing to eat for breakfast?
I work the 3rd shift now. This question vexes me.
36. What is your usual bedtime?
My guess is that if I was analyzed, I’d be prognosed with a number of sleep disorders. My sleep times are anything but usual. I’m nocturnally wired. And my biorhythms are too sharp and powerful for me to have any control of them.
37. Are you lazy?
By nature. But I also care and have ambition…so I’m sometimes at war with my nature.
38. When you were a kid, what did you dress up as for Halloween?
Many, many things…pirates, swamp monsters, vampires, Silent Bob (my brother was Jay), Dr. Gonzo (my brother was Hunter Thompson), Spy vs. Spy (my brother was the white spy and I was the black), and many others besides. I trick or treated right up to and including being and undergrad in college.
39. What is your Chinese astrological sign?
Godzilla…no…that’s Japanese…fuck…well that degrades any illusions of wit I might have had writing up this asinine questionnaire.
40. How many languages can you speak?
One.
I know dirty phrases in Japanese and I can say “Go to Hell” (and a few other words/phrases in Ancient Greek).
41. Do you have any magazine subscriptions?
No. I do get a Fright Catalog sent to me every once in a while.
42. Which are better: legos or lincoln logs?
Legos. Easy. Whole worlds and stratospheres of possibility locked into those little blocks.
43. Are you stubborn?
No, I flow like water.
44. Who is better…Leno or Letterman?
Svenghouli!
45. Ever watch soap operas?
Nope. If I want that I can read a stranger’s blog.
46. Afraid of heights?
No. I’m rather fond of heights actually.
47. Sing in the car?
Yes. A lot. And in the time in between getting into my car and exiting, I’m totally convinced I have a career in music…but never before or after that.
48. Dance in the shower?
How’d you know? You silly voyer.
49. Dance in the car?
Yeah.
50. Ever used a gun?
Yes. I went to a firing range once.
51. Last time you got a portrait taken by a photographer?
Probably at a wedding.
52. Do you think musicals are cheesy?
For the most part. Yes. It’s a ridiculous conceit. I think it only really works with a discordant theme or story. Twisted/dark stories work for musicals…it takes the ridiculousness from annoying to delightfully absurd.
53. Is Christmas stressful?
No. Holidays are silly things to stress over.
54. Ever eat a pirogie?
What is that? A species of hobgoblin?
55. Favorite type of fruit pie?
Pumpkin! Yugoslavian Gypsies believed that pumpkins left out to rot for too long turn into vampires. By eating pumpkin pie, you are, in effect, eating monsters in embryo.
56. Occupations you wanted to be when you were a kid?
Paleontologist.
57. Do you believe in ghosts?
Not really. But I also believe that the ghosts don’t care what I believe. Paradoxes run in my head like reels of scary silent films accompanied to organ music played by winged monkeys . . .
58. Ever have a Deja-vu feeling?
Yes. Intensely a few times.
59. Take a vitamin daily?
Semi-daily.
60. Wear slippers?
If it’s really cold. Otherwise my feet like to breath. Sometimes…they have bad breath 😦
61. Wear a bath robe?
Yes. Often.
62. What do you wear to bed?
An authentic Spider Man costume from the movie…if I could get one.
63. First concert?
Jimmy Buffett. I saw my first pair of flashed breasts at a Jimmy B concert. I was never the same.
64. Wal-Mart, Target or K-Mart?
Spencer’s.
65. Nike or Adidas?
Moon Boots
66.Cheetos Or Fritos?
Pizza.
67. Peanuts or Sunflower seeds?
Peanuts
68. Ever hear of, “gorp”?
If you refer to the world devouring, pseudopoded, ichor filed, world devouring horror, who leaves a trail of slime and dead stars in his primordial wake, terror that his GORP. Then yes.
69. Ever take dance lessons?
A little swing dancing.
70. Is there a profession you picture your future spouse doing?
Singer. I’d like to date a singer. Or an international spy. Scully…agent Scully—that’d work too.
71. Can you curl your tongue?
‘oo ‘eeang linek ‘his?
72. Ever won a spelling bee?
Oh you . . . how adorably naïve of you to ask.
73. Have you ever cried because you were so happy?
No . . . I growl when I’m happy . . . and wag my tail when I’m angry—therefore, I’m mad.
74. Own any record albums?
No. I’m mostly digital these days.
75. Own a record player?
Do you speak of the phonograph?
76. Regularly burn incense?
Used to. But I have a snake in my room and they have easily damaged lungs. So now I don’t.
77. Ever been in love?
yes
78. Who would you like to see in concert?
NIN
79. What was the last concert you saw?
Not sure…but I just got off of 3rd shift and my memory tends go about then.
80. Hot tea or cold tea?
Coffee…and I like my coffee like I like my women: bitter and murky.
No-no…I like my coffee black as night and sweet as sin.
No. Actually I like my coffee with gobs of cream and sugar . . . but I don’t know a cool way to say that.
81.Tea or coffee?
See that questionnaire . . . I’m always two steps ahead of you. Ha-ha! If you were a police detective and I were a serial killer, you’d just be opening a box to find Gwyneth Paltrow’s head inside.
82. Sugar or snickerdoodles?
Brown sugar.
83. Can you swim well?
I’ve always been a strong swimmer.
84. Can you hold your breath w/o manually holding your nose?
Yes.
85. Are you patient?
Yes. But too a fault.
86. DJ or band, at a wedding?
I’ve never been to one with a band. I’d like to try that.
87. Ever won a contest?
Yep. I won $400 in a costume contest as Jay and Silent Bob (with my bro). I also won a novel contest . . . check out Strangeness in the Proportion in your book stores coming soon. Literacy is an important issue kids. The more of our population that can read, the bigger my demographic.
88. Ever have plastic surgery?
No.
89. Which are better black or green olives?
Black.
90.Can you knit or crochet?
I have no practical skills.
91. Best room for a fireplace?
Living room…bedroom would be pretty sweet too.
92. Do you want to get married?
Maybe some day.
93. If married, how long have you been married?
OK…you’re starting to get pushy on this subject.
94. Who was your HS crush?
I had many. I had a high crush capacity.
95. Do you cry and throw a fit until you get your own way?
No, I’m pretty stoic.
96. Do you have kids?
Yes. There are 11 of them in my trunk.
97. Do you want kids?
The trunk is at capacity.
98. Whats your favorite color?
…..
…..
….purple.
You thought I was going to say black! Ha. I’m not so predictable. And what’s wrong with purple. It’s perfectly manly. It’s a royal color. It’s the Joker’s color. It’s the voodoo god of sex and death’s color. It’s Samuel “motha-fucka” Jackson’s favorite color. It’s what black would be if it was brighter. Let’s not let one freakish telatubbie ruin a good color for a whole gender!
99. Do you miss anyone right now?
Yes
100. Who do you wanna see right now?
Fall is here and I haven’t gotten to hang out with Torrie yet.
Or Agent Scully.
Joshua Alan Doetsch 