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Joshua Alan Doetsch

~ Author & Scrivnomancer

Joshua Alan Doetsch

Tag Archives: cafe aeon

Remember what the dormouse said…

29 Friday Feb 2008

Posted by scrivnomancer in Uncategorized

≈ 14 Comments

Tags

cafe aeon, lenore, snakes, strangers, the red lion pub, white rabbit

Dialogue with Merlin
I’m hanging out with some friends.  One of them, Merlin, leans jokingly, very heavily on my shoulder.  Someone says, “What are you doing?”

Merlin:  Just checking Josh’s personal space boundaries.

Me:  …do that any longer, and I’m going to lick your ear.

Merlin:  …

Me:  Don’t worry, man, it’s not sexual; I just need the salt.

And my shoulder is released.


Swallowing Quail Like White Rabbits Tumbling Down the Black Hole Gullet of the World Snake

Yesterday, a large shipment of young quail (frozen food for my pet indigo snake, Lenore) came in.  Lenore, freshly shed, iridescent, shining, and ravenous, was ready for her meal.  That day, for some reason, I had this intense, unexplainable, pregnancy-level craving to listen to “White Rabbit” over and over again…that in conjunction with Lenore’s feeding would have led to one of those strange, inexplicable moments…should someone have walked in—seeing me feeding dead birds to Lenore via 14-inch forceps—music blaring—Lenore, jaws distended, swallowing large prey items—me singing along with Jefferson Airplain:

“FEED YOUR HEAD!  FEED YOUR HEAD!  FEED YOUR HEAD!!!”


New Word—Lost Hangouts

My good friend, Brayton, and I were drinking coffee at CAFE AEON, discussing the incorrectness of the word “irregardless” (or the incorrectnessless of the word, if you prefer).  We decided, if you were going in that direction, to take it a few notches, and prefixes, further—and came up with our new word:  “nonundisirregardlessly”.  We suggest you start throwing it into conversation, because if you’re going to stray from the language, Chum, go bold!

Speaking of Cafe Aeon, tomorrow night (that is to say…tonight, Friday) is their last day before packing up and heading to New Orleans.  I’ll be there, tonight, for the final bash.  Anyone in the vicinity should come on out.  Promise not to lick your ear.

On a similar note, tonight (Thursday night) I drove to Chicago and to the RED LION PUB for what I thought was their last day before closing for lengthy renovations and rebuilding, only to discover the building dark and locked.

Sigh.

I’m loosing my favorite hangouts.

A Kindness of Strangers

A group of crows is a murder of crows.  A group of ravens is an unkindness of ravens.  I’m going to start calling a benevolent group of strangers a kindness of strangers.  I like doing this blog—one reason being I occasionally hear from strangers (sometimes from great distances) who comment on the journal.  I’m always tickled.  Here are a couple of the nicer bits of input I’ve received.  This isn’t a self-pat on the back so much as a way of saying thank you to those of you out there in internet land who have given me input…it’s always appreciated.

A message from Erica contained this:

Ok that’s enough. I make promises to myself that when doing a search on here, I will not go beyond 50 miles. This is to keep me from developing relationships with people who live further than I’m willing to drive. However, I’ve been reading your journal and just can’t help myself from commenting on a few things. Today I found new faith in the evolution of the written language, thanks to you. No, there has been no exchange of your published items and my blood, sweat and tears. I think this may change now though.

Recently, I’ve felt my brain slowly rotting from lack of literary beauty. The flow of language that sends shivers down my spine, makes me smile, the thing that connects you with the source… It’s that feeling some get when doing things they’re meant to do, when The Fates strike a cord of perfect harmony. Pleasure, I suppose. Sure, I could pull a book off the shelf and delve once again into worlds I’ve walked before, but I crave new things far too much.

There is, unfortunately, a missing element to many new authors. They have all the ingredients to make a mouth watering dessert but are missing the individual accents that make the whole thing worthwhile. A friend of mine is very in to plants and plant extracts and he uses spagyrics to extract the essential oils for use in various things. The outcome of the extraction is different depending on his mood, yet the flavor is solely his and all the better for it. This is the thing missing. Too much is written to please the general public, which is all well and good, but pointless if there’s no accent to it. No girth, no substance, no sparkly lights. Okay. Maybe I’m over-explaining. This is what makes me happy to say, “Yea! I’m a part of the human race!”:

“I could almost hear the gears turning and saw the light bulb over the head flicker precariously, the wattage far exceeding the fortitude of the filament. He was in the throes of an epiphany. He turned around, came back and delivered it unto me…”

“I wish the White Hen building would sprout giant chicken legs and run away like a Russian fairy tale.”

“I want to drink rum and beer and read ghost stories in a place that speaks and creaks, under the beer garden tree, over a congress of very large, and by now very literary, rats.”

“…this convenience store is like a nasty, self-fulfilling prophecy…one that sells tasty sandwiches and burnt coffee.”

You divest and de-fragment far too well. You remind me of things in my past that I wish I could do over. Yet now there is realization that the love of the language is still there, swirling in the ether.

So thank you for making my mouth water.

Wow.  Thank you, Erica.  That made my evening.  Seeing a few highlight bits from the journal, I thought, “Hey…some of that is pretty good.”  It was a mood booster that came at just the right time too.

And this came from Julie:

I know this is quite strange coming from a complete stranger but you are FUCKING BRILLIANT! Sitting here on the eve of my national board examinations trying to prep for one of the biggest accomplishments of my life I took a break from my mind numbing studying to screw around on the computer. Opened up myspace and saw you posted a Blog, I decided what the fuck lets read about somebody else to distract my mind from tearing its self apart from fatigue and doubt… and there I found it… the answer to my problem and the only damn thing that has made me feel better in the last several days. So I say again thank you, you brilliant, eloquent, exceptional person. I am indebted to you.

Thank you—thank you, Julie!  Man.  Ego boosts to the extreme.  Encouragement like that and I find myself able to turn to my inner demons and say, “Leggo my ego, fucker!”

Thank you one and all.

Oh…the sky is beginning to lighten up…it’s that time, lovelings.

G’night.

Oneiromantic Infidelity

03 Monday Dec 2007

Posted by scrivnomancer in Uncategorized

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

7-11, book of dead things, cafe aeon, halloween, john, medieval times

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.

Reading/Signing Event at Cafe Aeon

23 Friday Nov 2007

Posted by scrivnomancer in Uncategorized

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

book of dead things, cafe aeon

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

Cafe Aeon’s MySpace Page

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.

You’ll Find Me a Crow Left of the Murder

13 Saturday Oct 2007

Posted by scrivnomancer in Uncategorized

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Tags

book of dead things, cafe aeon, excalibur, ghost stories, gothicfest, goths, halloween, readings, signings, twilight tales, volo bog

Preambles in Latex and Body Piercings
October, a month of Halloween is here.  So I got started.  Watched Young Frankenstein.

Check.

But there is still much to be done.

Tonight it’s ghost stories at Volo Bog.  Double check.

The other day, I was too resltess to sleep after 3rd shift and then after the sun rose, so I went for a walk-about at the bog.  I got to see a group of Sandhill Cranes.  They are very large birds, taller and larger than Great Herons.  They look something like a pterodactyl when they fly and sound something like a dinosaur when they call.  As they should.  They are very primordial birds, the oldest known species, having existed for some 6 million years.

Last night I visited GothicFest, with Sophia, at Excalibur Night Club.  It’s the right sort of night club for that kind of event.  It was interesting.  I wear black.  I like grinning skulls on my person…but I don’t know if I fit into the “Goth” scene, exactly (sub-genres—industrial, emo, etc.—are tedious little things, so I’ll skip them).  But one black bird roosting with a bunch of other black birds looks about the same, and they caw and I caw, but in the end, I think I’m on my own little branch.  Or maybe that’s the illusion we all like to maintain.

I saw strange and interesting sights and met strange and interesting people.  Some where funny, some freaky, some took themselves far too seriously, and some were eccentrically charming.  Most were actually pretty kind and inviting.

I did see something I hadn’t seen before.  There were performers, bands, singers, DJs, displays, and booths selling dark merchandise (we’ll just assume, from this point, that everything there was “dark” and I can stop using the word).  There were piercing booths, body mods, T-Shirts, action figures, post cards, and rubber dresses held up by impossible physics.  Then there were book booths: fiction—yes, occultism—yes, dark spirituality (crap…I used the word again)—yes.  But beyond this was a booth with fiction books and literary journals and a sign that said:  “Cthulhu vs. Jesus (yes, that Jesus)”.

I thought to myself, “ . . .”

VS.

Looking further, the sign said something like “An anthology of hardboiled horror, with a Christian twist.”  And so, I think, I was introduced to the Christian Goths.  Curiouser and curiouser.


Coming Attractions

Mark those calendars…

On November 3rd, Nick and I will be finishing the Halloween season with a special addition of the Doetsch Brothers Outdoor Theatre…yep, we’ll be dragging the projector and screen out back and screening a marathon of horror flicks.  Good, bad, scary, funny, all sorts.  More details to come.  There will be fire and copious amounts of cocoa and coffee to keep folks warm.  Start making movie recommendations.

On November 25th (tentatively at 7:30) there will be a Twilight Tales, Book of Dead Things, reading/signing event at Café Aeon in McHenry.  Details to follow (I’m still in the beginning phase of setting this up) but there should be several authors present reading some cool stories about…well…dead things.  Come out and give us your support.  You can sample Book of Dead Things stories, including mine (“Blood, Snow, and Sparrows”) over at the website.


Baby, I Gotta Get Some Links Off My Chest

Here are some links I’ve been saving, in no particular order or manner . . .

-Stephen King talks about the state of the American short story.

-Interesting article on the confusing world of nutrition and how mistaken paradigms are formed.

-Video interview with Bruce Campbell.

-An author’s research goes too far (cannibalism is fun kids!).

-And finally, if you know who Neil Gaiman is and you’ve seen the Superman movies, then you might find this funny:

By the Pricking of My Thumb . . .

12 Wednesday Sep 2007

Posted by scrivnomancer in Uncategorized

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

beowulf, cafe aeon, iron man, kenning, laboratory, ray bradbury, scrivener, uis

Laboratory Blues

Bubble, bubble—I’d wish for a little less toil and a lot less trouble . . .

But all in all and my laboratory is back in working order.  The flesh and limbs and mortal clay are all back on their shelves and in their jars and viscera soups.  My tools are each in their place, shining and humming and sparking.  And I think I’m ready to get back to work on the quivering thing on the vivisection table.

Yes, I’ve made the transition from my dying PC to a brand new MAC.   I just barely got out alive too . . . as on my last trip back to my ailing computer, to get the last little bit of data to transfer, and it would not start.  Now it is dead.  But we discovered it was a registered organ doner and some of its innards now reside in my brother’s computer.

I’m mostly acclimated to the i-mac now and mostly like it.

Best of all, I just bought an awesome new bit of creative writing software . . . it’s called SCRIVENER.  Check it out.  It deserves it’s own blog entry…at a later date.

I’m a Brilliant Future

Looks like I’m a Brilliant Future.  Go ahead.  Give it a click.  See.  Growing up, I was a poor gang banger from the projects . . . but someone gave me a chance—and look at me now!

Te-he . . . I am flattered that they thought of me (though a much better picture of me is summoned up if you click the link at the bottom of that page).

Also, I’ve been emailed some interview questions for an article on me that will appear in the UIS development magazine (name still pending).

Representing hard for the UIS yo!

AEON

Black envelopes marked in colored ink get my attention.

I just got an invite to an invite only event at my favorite café, CAFÉ AEON, and I’m quite excited.  They have a new website to boot.


Something Wicked . . .

I can feel the shift in season, the trip wire is tripped, by the trip-trap of autumn.  Memories like the smell of cider, pumpkin pie, and the sticky-sweat seal of a rubber mask are the phantom limb itch in my head.  So, I knew it was the right time to start listening to the audio recording of Ray Bradbury’s Something Wicked This Way Comes.  Ray knows autumn better than anyone.  He knows why monsters under the bed are important to child development.  I had a water bed growing up—no spaced underneath, no room for anything to hide.  Incidentally, my college writing teacher/mentor, Nancy Perkins, is convinced that, that is the reason I write what I write . . . to make up for lost time.

Of Comic Books and Kenning

For you comic fans, check out the trailer for IRON MAN.

For you epic literature fans, check out the rated R trailer for the new BEOWULF movie.

I can’t wait.  I especially like the part where Beowulf is spouting off his descriptive nick names:  “I am ripper, tearer, slasher.  I am the teeth in the darkness!”  That sort of comic book/hero contrivance where they say “I am the shadow in the night,” or some such—it’s actually from the ancient tradition of epics and mythology, the magic of formulaic naming disciplines like kenning and epithets.

There are different types in different cultures…but they all come down to giving clever nick names for a person, place, or thing.  You could just take an appropriate verb and turn it into a noun to describe something—Beowulf is “Ripper!”

Or maybe a deed becomes the name of the person—“I am Cyclops Slayer!”

Or maybe you get a little more poetic—“I am the teeth in the darkness.”

And sometimes these become set formulas for referring to famous figures…like in mythology.  Gods get many different names…or different descriptors attached to that name…and sometimes you use one so that your reader/listener knows what aspect of the god you refer to.  You might call Odin, “Gallows god” or “Glad-of-War.”  You might call Loki, “Wolf Father” or “Sky Strider.”

Kenning gets really formulaic.  It’s a system of putting two or more words together to give them a combined meaning that neither word had before—for example—one of my favorite is “bait-gallows” which means “hook.”

But then kenning gets even cooler and more deceptively complex—because you can layer it.  Let’s say a pirate strides up to me, and like some ancient, Norse poem spinner, I want to call him by kenning rather than his usual name.  I might call him “Hook-Wrist.”  And that might catch on (because kenning is simple and descriptive and it catches on just like nick names in high school)…

…but if I am a master kenning slinger, I might layer the kenning.  I can take those two words and use kenning on each of them (and we go to four words).  For example, the kenning for hook (as we said) is “bait-gallows.”  The kenning for wrist is “wolf’s-joint” (this is an allusion to the Norse myth where the god Tyr’s hand is bitten off by the demon wolf Fenrir).

So now the pirate’s kenning name becomes “Bait-Gallows-Wolf’s-Joint.”  Someone who knows their kenning could break that down and know that I’m really saying “Hook-Wrist” and deduce that the pirate I’m talking about has a hook for a hand.  But even if not…it’s a fucking cool name.  It’s a conversation starter.  The pirate, let’s say his real name is Bob, would probably thank me for the bit of poetry I’ve blessed him with.

On that same line, I might be a Viking who finds himself lost in Egypt (worm-holes can happen to anyone) and I see the crazy hooked swords of the ancient middle east ( the kopesh).  Seeing these strange, sickle shaped swords, I might call them “Hook-Sword”…or “Bait-Gallows-Blood-Worm” (“blood-worm” means “sword”).

And this takes us to the ultimate conclusion of this post . . .

Who wants to join me and start a band called Bait-Gallows-Blood-Worm?

And finally, A CHALLENGE TO THE READER:  I’m curious what someone might use as kenning to refer to themself…click on the above links, read up on it, and then reply to this post with your own kennings.  If anyone replies, I’ll join in the fun too.

Parting Wisdom

Give a cannibal a severed arm, and you feed him for a day.

Give a cannibal a cleaver, and you feed him for life.

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