Thy Keenedom Come: An Open Letter to Brian Keene

Nate is READING:  Cameron Judd, The Phantom Legion

LISTENING TO:  The Druidcast (www.druidry.org)

WATCHING:  Braveheart (yet again)

First, some stuff:  I’m no longer updating the Benrik blog because I’ve quit doing the Tasks for this year.  Next year I’ll attempt the next book, but until then . . .

I’m also going to try and update this blog every day, and to make sure that the entries are actually coherent instead of just the random musings of a madman, which is all we were going on before.

As y’all know (I’ve told you enough), I’m serializing my urban fantasy novella, Ghost Dance, on another WordPress blog.  Chapter seven (in which Linda kicks some more ass, the true nature of Ol’ Scratch is hinted at, and Linda’s father has shenanigans) was posted just the other day.  If you like mythology, folklore, the north Georgia mountains, or any of the various subdivisions of fantasy, I suggest you check it out.  It can be found here:  http://authorofghostdance.wordpress.com/

And now, onto the meat of today’s entry:

The other night, in a fit of what may have been temporary insanity, I wrote the following letter to Brian Keene of http://www.briankeene.com:

Brian Keene

P.O Box 281

Craley, PA 17312

Dear Mr. Keene,

            You can call me Nate.  I just turned eighteen in December, I’m an aspiring novelist (amongst many other things), and I live in Mississippi.  You may remember me; I used to post on the Keenedom, but I had a bit of a “fanboy moment” (sorry about that . . .) and decided to quietly make an exit; I’m not much of a forum guy anyways.  I’m writing you because the other day I picked up The Black Train by Edward Lee at my friendly neighborhood bookstore and it reminded me of how much I like paperback horror novels (I’ve been moving more towards classics these past few months); as soon as I got home I randomly picked The Conqueror Worms off of my bookshelf and devoured it in just a few hours.  It’s not your best, out of what books of yours I’ve read, but it’s still very good and I enjoyed it even more upon the second reading.

            I remembered seeing a P.O box on the contact page on your website and it occurred to me that I haven’t gotten a letter in the snail-mail in years, so I decided to send one off.  I haven’t been following your blog since my silent departure about a year ago, so I hope that things are going well for you and you have my condolences and good wishes if they’ve been less than awesome.  I look foreward to hearing from you just as soon as you find the time and/or money for stamps; I’m not going anyplace.  I wish you the best of luck; so long as you keeps on a-writin’ them there books, I’s gonna keep a-buyin’ ‘em!

 Sincerely,

Nate.

 P.S.:  I’m a little short of funds right now, but as soon as I can spare fifty bucks I do plan on subscribing to the newsletter.  If it’s half as great as the other stuff you’ve written, that’s chump change.

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As some of you may or may not know:  Brian Keene is a totally awesome horror writer.  He was born in Pennsylvania sometime around when Brian chased the Dane (he falls into the “not as old as my dad but still alot older than me” demographic) and still lives there to this day.  He’s the author of such celebrated titles as The Rising, City of the Dead, Dark Hollow, Ghost Walk, Terminal, The Conqueror Worms, and many, many others.  I found out about him a couple of years ago through a History Channel special on zombies and was hooked immediately.  I cumbered around on his forum for a little while until the aforementioned “incident”; since the place had never been to my liking anyway, I ducked out all silent-like instead of making a big stink because I really respect Brian Keene and didn’t want to piss him off too much or pollute his forum with aimless griping.  (Since then I found out they banned me, which  thought was weird since nobody’d mentioned it before I left; I reckon that once it became clear I’d sodded off, they figgered it didn’t matter.)

(NOTE: THE FOLLOWING CONTAINS SPOILERS)

Excluding Sympathy for the Devil and Unhappy Endings (an article collection and a short story collection, respectively), I’d order those books of his I’ve read from best to worst as follows:

Ghost Walk
The Rising
Dark Hollow
Ghoul
The Conqueror Worms
City of the Dead

Ghost Walk is my favorite for a number of reasons.  First and foremost, it’s exactly the right length to tell the story.  Keene is a very verbose writer, and it seems like in some of his books (especially the last two) he’s mincing words; Ghost Walk is without a doubt the slimmest volume listed.  Second, the mechanical execution is flawless; I got a real The Great Gatsby vibe while reading it, by which I mean that I didn’t see a single wooden phrase, dying metaphor, or poorly-chosen word in the whole thing.  Third (and perhaps most important of all), it’s the only end-of-the-world-is-imminent book listed where the humans (er, human, in this case) manage to thwart the Thirteen.  The others are full of ass-kicking (zombie upon zombie upon zombie gets wasted in The Rising and City of the Dead, and the scene in The Conqueror Worms where carl kills Behemoth made me almost as happy as in Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves when Friar Tuck piles all those heavy sacks of gold in the bishop’s arms and is all “And here’s thirty pieces of silver, to pay your way to HELL!” shoves him out the window), but in the end things always turn sour for our heroes (except in City of the Dead, which as a sort-of happy ending; at least, as happy an ending as can be expected).  Ghost Walk doesn’t really have a happy ending either, but the world gets saved and the evil monster dude gets thwarted.

The middle ones all have their ups and downs.  The Rising is epic, not just long but really epic (of Stand-like proportions), and the characterization and description are beautiful, but it’s Keene’s first novel and has all the faults one might expect in a first novel; the language gets a bit choppy in places, for instance, and I think he really screwed the pooch on the ending (hint:  he never intended to write a sequal).  Dark Hollow and Ghoul are both personal favorites of mine; both are tragic, brutal, and humorous in just the right ammounts and places, and both revolve around awesomely horrible monsters (Dark Hollow is one of the only books I’ve read that made me really honestly lose sleep; if you’re a man, or if you’re a fan of Bill Hicks’s Goatboy sketch, I reccomend reading it with the lights on).  The Conqueror Worms we’ve already discussed.

I put City of the Dead at the bottom of the stack because it’s much too fat; it has all the same qualities that made me love The Rising and with fewer of those first-novel flaws, but it seems to just go on and on and on forever with no tangible hope of a happy ending (sort of like being trapped in a videogame you know you can’t win).  But all of the good qualities far outweigh the bad, and if you don’t mind a good long yarn (and a bit of a shaggy dog story, let’s be honest) I highly reccomend it; if you enjoyed Stephen King’s Dark Tower books, you know what I mean.

So enough about that crusty old bastard.  Let’s talk about ME!

I finished reading William Golding’s The Inheritors the other day; I enjoyed it, though it was kind of sad.  Today I cracked open The Phantom Legion by Cameron Judd; I loved The Shadow Warriors (the first book in the trilogy) and I can’t wait to see what happens in this next volume, plus I really need the inspiration for the Overmountain man story I’m trying to write.

I picked up a couple of printed-on-dead-trees job applications from stores, and I’m about to start filling out an online one for the Books-a-Million at the mall here; looks like my trip to Canada this summer will be a go!  I don’t need much cash, as I’ve got no qualms about eating spam-and-ketchup sandwiches and sleeping in my truck for a week or two.  The most expensive thing will probably be gas.

After a bit of deliberation, I’ve decided that, yes, I will go to community college.  I feel like an elitist ass for objecting to it for so long, but the truth is I only want a college degree so I can get my teaching job; anything I could learn at some fancy-pants expensive-as-Hell university, I could teach myself at a public library.  So what does it matter if I get said degree from a community college?

I’ve hit a little bit of a roadblock on my writing.  I can’t wait for ScriptFrenzy (www.scriptfrenzy.org) to start so that I can get all of these ideas for my Song of Roland stage play out of my head.  I’ve decided that once I get my hundred pages for ScriptFrenzy done, I can start on this awesome new novel idea I had; this commitment is important, because I have a bad habit of throwing all my energy into a new project for a week or two and totally burning out.  This new idea was inspired by Forbidden History, an anthology of fringe-science and fringe-history essays put out by the folks behind Atlantis Rising magazine; not to say too much, but it involves cavemen.  Thus my reading Golding’s The Inheritors, and placing Auel’s Clan of the Cave Bear next in my stack after Phantom Legion.

I’m going to try and put most of my energy into finishing Parcel O’ Rogues (a zombie novella that is without a doubt the most politically-charged thing I’ve ever written) and the sequal to Ghost Dance.  Said sequal will be called Houses of the Holy, and if I splice it with Ghost Dance, well, I’ll have myself a complete novel!  I’m hoping that Dr. Pus (http://libraryofthelivingdead.lefora.com/) will be interested in it.

And that’s all I’ve got to say about that.

[Via http://natesrag.wordpress.com]

She Wants To Sleep With Everyone

Desire can be a sign of positive bloodflow. Photograph courtesy of Victor Jeffreys II, phiary.com/diary/victor.

Dear Yenta,

I’ve been dating my best friend Taylor off and on for about two years now. It’s been really great and I love him so much. He’s helped me through my dad’s death in the past year and we are very close. Lately though I’ve started having feelings towards other people and being less interested when we are intimate. On top of that, I’ve stopped ignoring the feelings I’ve had for one of my good girl friends. She wrote me a letter and in it told me how she’s always felt about me.

She said in it that when she first met me that she knew there was something nerve-wracking and beautiful about me. I don’t know what to do because I think about her all the time and how wonderful it would be to be with her! I think about the way her eyes sparkle when she laughs and how she always looks perfect to me and I just have this desire to be with her, even though she thinks she is dorky. I don’t know if this is just a phase or not. Also, lately I’ve just been wanting to have sex a lot. With Taylor and with my other guy friends that are interested in me, or my ex boyfriends. It’s like I don’t even care anymore.

Am I morally obstructed for wanting to be with more than one person?

-Sweet Jewish Girl

Dear SJG,

You would only be morally obstructed if you were to act on all of your desires while feigning commitment to your boyfriend. There is no sin in entertaining thoughts. However, nine times out of ten, when you start thinking about sleeping with everyone around you more than about sleeping with your man, it is a sign that things between you aren’t right.

When people help us through hard times, it is hard to let them go. Your boyfriend, I have no doubt, is a wonderful man who made the pain of losing your father far less difficult. But just because someone was there when you needed them most does not mean you need to be with them forever. relationships shift and it might be time to end the romantic element of this one.

According to Elisabeth Kübler Ross, there are 7 stages of grief. These are:

1) Shock stage: Initial paralysis at hearing the bad news.
2) Denial stage: Trying to avoid the inevitable.
3) Anger stage: Frustrated outpouring of bottled-up emotion.
4) Bargaining stage: Seeking in vain for a way out.
5) Depression stage: Final realization of the inevitable.
6) Testing stage: Seeking realistic solutions.
7) Acceptance stage: Finally finding the way forward.

You, I am guessing, are somewhere between the Testing and the Acceptance phases. It sounds like you have waxed and waned through the hard work of letting a parent go and are now ready to begin to come alive again.

You can still show your love and your friendship, but sticking around out of obligation or guilt is not what relationships are about. Your desire to sleep with your friend and to sleep with everyone else is just your body’s way of saying that it is time to move on. Get bad with your lesbian half. Find what makes you tick.

Sometimes, sadly, those people who help us through hard times also remind us of the suffering we experienced. It might be time to end your intimacy with your boyfriend because he holds a lot of the grief you just walked through, and now you need distance from those feelings. It isn’t fair, but it can be part of the process of mourning, moving on, and continuing to live a good life.

You only live that good life once, so be true to yourself. You can show your love and appreciation for your boyfriend without being his significant other. It is possible to end this era of the relationship, while expressing how important he was and is to you. For help, see these tips on gentle breakups from AllWomenStalk.com. Figure out what you want and then go get it. Just be sure to be kind and gentle as you untie yourself from this guy: he sounds like someone who deserves it.

A Canadian girl at breakfast this morning also advises going out with a royal final hurrah. She suggests giving your man a threesome before dipping out. To each her own.

Merissa Nathan Gerson is a fan of

Ask Your Yenta Create your Fan Badge

[Via http://askyouryenta.com]

The Chase or Getting Caught?

As I wrote a few days ago, The Young One has decided to completely disregard my request to stop pestering me for sex. He is persistent – well he did chase me for 6 years before I gave in and let him have a sniff of pussy. Today he and I have been messaging each other, starting out tame (ish) on our work emails, then moving to our personal emails when the messages became less… tame.

I have been haughty and unattainable, he has been lustful and hard and explicit. He tells me it has been a long time since we have been so dirty, yet, to be honest, I havent been dirty (much), but I have been making him chase hard, and this has made me hornier than I have been for a very long time.

The breathlessness, waiting for his replies to my demanding texts, my pussy lips and clit swollen and slick reading the words of what he wants to do to me while fingers type prim and properly shocked phrases. Nipples as hard as marbles erect against my modest work shirt, betraying the tormented unsatisfied desire to my work colleagues and staff. Discretely crossing and uncrossing my legs under my desk, putting pressure on my clit as I type, thinking about him across town with an achingly hard cock, a cock that is hard precisely because I want it to be. Lust, desperate to release. Pics taken in the toilet and sms’ed to me, fingers again reprimanding such filthy behaviour and demanding further depravity whilst shakingly prying between my legs in my own work-toilet torment.

This is how it was for years before we fucked, and to be honest, it was better then.

I want to be chased. I want to be hunted, to feel predatory eyes on me, readying for the pounce. Skillfully evading each attack and further increasing the hunger and desperation of both. Sometimes succumbing to the claws of raw lust, only to scramble to safety at the last moment… I think perhaps he isn’t really that keen on catching me either. I think he likes this game, and it is one he plays very very well.

I am not sure that the catch is my favorite part of the hunt.

[Via http://anunlikelyadultress.wordpress.com]

Day 45: Check for new sensations

The point of attraction and vibration weight that you now have, is due to what you are paying attention at this moment, those aspects of your life that you live in the present moment, on what you’re wishing or imagining. That is, if you want to be thin but at the moment you are quite fat, the aspects of  what you are looking at from your experience will likely exceed your vibrations.

The Law of Attraction does not respond to words, but the vibrations radiating from your words. That is, whether you use words like “I want to be there” or “I want what’s there”, your vibration should refer more to where you want to be now than where you are at the moment (not like). Therefore, even more far-fetched words, if you’re in a moment of resistance towards your Welfare it will be useless, for the words you use are not important, what matters is how you feel.

The process called “search for new sensations,” will help you radiate a vibration that will be useful, as this makes you to be aware of what you are attracting. It’s about using your imagination to pretend that your desire has been fulfilled and you experience the details of that desire. Again, the universe does not know if you offer a vibration because of what you are doing or because of what you are imagining to be living. In any case, the Universe responds to vibration and allows the event to occur.

When you use this process:

1. When you want to improve a situation.

2. When you want to get more money.

3. When you want to get a better job.

4. When you want a more satisfying relationship.

5. When you want to have a body that makes you feel better.

Your goal in this exercise is to invoke images to create better vibrations that  will allow what is wanted, to flow to you.Your goal is to create images that make you feel good, or looking for “new sensations”, that will make you feel how you’d feel if you had enough of what you want, instead of feeling the way you feel about not having it.

For example, if you wish money. You may remember a time when you had more money or a time when, at least not suffered from the stress of knowing that the debts would accumulate. When you give with that memory, try to get as many details as possible to feel it more intensely.

You can pretend you have an unlimited credit card with which you can buy anything you want, a kind of “Carrie Bradshaw” magic card that you use several times a day because it is very useful, and once a month, write a check to pay for all purchases done with the card. Imagine how much money you have in the bank compared with the purchases you’ve made this month with the card is so superior that paying the bill does not affect you at all.

The more you practice this game of “Check for new sensations” you will find it easier and more fun to practice. When you pretend or remember selectively, you  active a vibration that changes to a new point of attraction, your life improves in all areas over which you have sought to experience new sensations and best of all is that you attract to you what you’re waiting for to manifest.

With much love,

Fabiola.

[Via http://quanticvibration.wordpress.com]

Teen-y Porn, Pill Poppers, and Excess Parental Baggage - A Recap of Gossip Girl's "The Lady Vanished"

 

This picture is disturbing on so many levels.  For one thing, the actress on the far left is only 16.  For another, the guy in bed next to her plays her BROTHER.  The photographer really should have thought this one through a bit more . . .

WARNING:  Tonight’s episode of Gossip Girl has been rated . . .

 . . . with heavy emphasis on the “F.”  Viewer (and reader) discretion is advised.

Food, Fake Os, Family and Fun!

“The Lady Vanished” began with Nate and Serena, more or less, doing what they did throughout the entire last episode: screwing eachother’s brains out.  Poor Nate!   Once cast as the show’s leading man, he has, of late, been relegated to the roll of Porno Pizza Delivery Guy. 

“Did someone order extra sausage?”

Since the show has returned from hiatus, all this guy has had the opportunity to do in terms of “acting” is give  smoldering looks to the camera and make mildly suggestive comments, while being ravaged by his current femme fatale, Serena.

Don’t worry, Chace Crawford.  We still think you’re pretty.

I’ve been told that Nate’s and Serena’s food-filled sex romp was a send up to this classic film . . .

 . . . which, I will admit, I never saw, because I was too young when it came out (and, from the looks of it, may still be!)

However, I was shocked to find out that the sexy hunk of man in the above-poster “grew up” to be none other than this guy from The Wrestler . . .

“This should be a lesson to all you kiddies.  DON’T DO DRUGS!”

Aside from being a super sexy scene, it was nice to see one of the Gossip Girls actually eating.  Because, as Blair mentioned during the episode, Serena hasn’t ”eaten bread since middle school” or, likely,  anything else, for that matter . . . (well . . . except . . . nevermind.  This blog post has gone far enough into the gutter as it is.)

Serena and Nate are interrupted from their “meal” by the loud sexual moans of Blair Waldorf.  (Seriously, could this episode get any more pornographic?)  Of course, Nate and Serena immediately assume that Blair is having her own ”meal” with Chuck.  However, when Chuck phones Nate, requesting that the latter retrieve the former’s cell phone from Blair’s and Chuck’s apartment, without Blair finding out about it, it becomes apparent that Blair is home alone, flying solo . . . WOAH!

“What?  I’m not man enough for you, in my neon orange peacoat?”

As it turns out, Blair is “just reading.”  (Isn’t that what everyone says, when they are caught?)  Her moans were merely intended to make a point about Nate’s and Serena’s inconsiderate “loudness” and sexcapades of recent days past. 

“Glad I got Chuck’s couch scotchguarded,” she remarks.  (I totally forgot N and S did it there last week too!  The writers were loving Leighton Meester, this week.  She got all of the episode’s best lines.)

While Blair confesses to Serena that her and Chuck are “not connecting,” Nate arrives with a lame excuse as to why he suddenly needs Chuck’s cell phone.  “I had to check a tweet,” he offers.

Good ‘ole Gossip Girl.  Always up on what the “cool kids” are doing . . .

Of course, because Blair almost got into Yale, and, therefore, must have an IQ above 20, she doesn’t buy Nate’s Tweety Excuse.  “I so miss dating a horrible liar,” she sighs.

Upon examining the phone, Blair learns that Chuck has been receiving calls from the woman who, last week, claimed not to be, but actually is, his mother.  And he has been ignoring her.  Chuck walks in on this exchange, and explains that he wants nothing to do with his mother.  Blair surprises us all, by supporting Chuck’s decision.  Serena “Buttinsky” Van Der Woodsen, however, is not as understanding.

Serena arranges a dinner date with Chuck, Blair, Nate and herself, and secretly invites Mommy Bass along for the ride. 

(I did a little research on Laura Harring, the actress who plays Chuck’s mom.  From this, I learned precisely two things: (1) she starred in that bizarre David Lynch movie Mullholland Drive; (2) when you search for pictures of her on Google Images to include in your blog, more nudie pics appear than clothed ones.  Based on her not-so-hot acting during these past two episodes, I can’t say I am all that surprised.)

Anyway, Chuck approaches Mommy Not-So-Dearest, and hands her a large check in exchange for her leaving his life for good.  She takes the cash.  Later, Chuck admits to Blair that he HAD wanted a relationship with his long-lost mother.  Giving her the check was a test,  and she failed. 

Refusing to accept defeat Nosy Nellie Serena pays another visit to Mommy Bass.

I just couldn’t resist . . .

You see, this whole “Chuck thing” was about SERENA all along!  Serena is hurt that her dad hasn’t made an effort to meet her, and she’s hoping Mommy Bass can give her some sort of an explanation for his action.  Mommy Bass does provide an explanation, but not exactly the one Serena wants.  As it turns out, it was Chuck’s Mom’s idea for Bart Bass to tell Chuck his mom had died during childbirth.   She was young at the time, and simply didn’t want any part in raising a child.

Horrified, Serena stalks out, immediately leaving a message on her absentee father’s machine, stating that she no longer wants to find him.  However, given that they have already offered the role of Serena’s father to this guy . . .

And the award for Baldwin Brother Who Aged the Best Goes to . . . BILLY!

 . . . I’m assuming Daddy Van Der Woodsen doesn’t regularly check the messages on his cell phone.

At the episode’s conclusion, Mommy Bass decides to stay in town and get to know her son; Chuck makes amends with her;  and they all live happily ever after . . . at least, until next week.

The Runaways

Meanwhile, Little Jenny Humphrey is hiding in her bedroom,  with Poor Man’s Jared Leto Drug Dealing Damien.  The two are messing around amid thousands of pharmaceuticals, while Jenny’s oblivious parents are still  moping about the fight they got into last week.

And the Parent of the Year Award goes to . . .

Jenny is understandably a bit miffed when Drug Dealing Damien’s dad calls and her refers to Jenny as “his friend.”  However, she doesn’t have much time to pout about this, because her parents finally wake up from their self-indulgent stupors and realize that Jenny has an older boy in her bed.  Just to prove she’s “bad ass,” Jenny drops a bag of pills on the floor and tells her parents that they are hers.  When her father balks at the discovery, Jenny calls Hypocrite on his Aging Rocker tush.  “I know you didn’t spend all those years on the tour bus, reading,” she remarks.

“I WOULD HAVE . . . I just don’t know how to read . . .”

A surprisingly gallant Damien tries to deflect blame off Jenny, by admitting the pills are his,  and telling Mommy and Daddy Humphrey a sob story about his drug-addicted dad (a story he later told Jenny was true, but I’m not buying it).  However, Daddy Humphrey, a.k.a. Rufus, will not back down.  He uses Jenny’s rebellion as an excuse to escape the swanky Van Der Woodsen residence and return to Brooklyn. 

Although Rufus claims he is doing this for his daughter, I cry bullshit.  I’m pretty sure this has more to do with Mommy Humphrey’s “little white lie” to Rufus last week about her recent dalliance with Serena’s dad.

And yet, it seems that Mommy Humphrey isn’t the only parent getting a little action on the side.  Once Rufus has left the house, Lily learns from the doorman that Daddy Humphrey has been spending time in  Slutty Neighbor’s apartment, and has even left certain items of clothing there.

At the episode’s conclusion, Jenny leaves home and runs off to live with Drug Dealing Damien, who accepts her with open arms.

Shame on you Poor Man’s Jared Leto!   She’s 16!   If you even THOUGHT you would be cast in the remake of  My So Called Life, you could just forget about it now!

Which reminds me, didn’t we do the whole “Runaway Jenny” storyline two seasons ago? 

I guess this works for plotlines too . . .

In other news, these two reunited at a beach-themed party, and decided to make a go of it as a couple . . .

ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ . . . .

Ooh, sorry, I must have dozed off for a moment there.

So, there you have it folks, another nearly R-rated Gossip Girl episode in the can.  Until next week . . .

XOXO!

 

 

[Via http://tvrecappersanonymous.wordpress.com]

Coming Back by M. King (Free Read)

Coming back is never easy…especially when you’re not sure what you were running from.
A reunion sparks thoughts of a lost love as a woman returns to her old town, and an old flame.

Coming Back by M. King
ISBN: 978-1-907623-05-9
Genre: Sensual Romance/Erotica
Length: Under 4000 words (13 .pdf pages)
Rating: 2 (sexual content)

This title is released as part of our Alpherbites line – short stories available for free download. Why not take a nibble at a new author or genre today?
Excerpt:

God, but it’s been a long time.

Since we spoke on the phone the other night, I’ve been trying to work out just how long, but I’m really not sure if it’s five or six years.

Have I really forgotten?

I imagine, if I confess this to you, you’ll tease me for being so forgetful, maybe say I must be starting to get old. Yet I can’t believe I could ever come anywhere near forgetting you.

Not that I’ll tell you that.

Even so, I’m slugging back the vodka tonics, waiting for you, and it seems like no time has passed at all. It’s as if it was only yesterday we were in The Holly Bush illegally, sneaking furtive drinks we were too young for, and furtive kisses we couldn’t put names to.

To be brutally honest, I’m glad you left. We were, I think, too young. Too young to cope with what was happening.

Of course, perhaps I just told myself that, because I didn’t want to admit what a coward I’d been. That would be shameful, I know, but I’ve done worse things since then.

I don’t think of them now, and I don’t think anymore about the past because—as always—I’ve got myself a table with my back against the wall, so I can see the door opening, and I can see that you’ve arrived.

My stomach does that little jump it’s done every time that damn door’s opened tonight, but this time I know it’s you, even though your body is turned to the side, turned away from me as you pass some dark-clothed woman in the doorway. Immediately, I recognise your shoulders. And, immediately, my nipples contract a little, even as my eyes are adjusting to fit your welcome shape back into the world.

It’s ridiculous, isn’t it? The thinking part of me, the small part that doesn’t automatically become a crotch on legs the second I watch you walk to the bar, is amused by the fact that this hasn’t changed. I knew it wouldn’t, somehow. I hadn’t really thought about you in years, but the reunion last month was like a flare to my memory, like a match to the curling corner of an old photograph. Something that time had compressed, made flat and distant, suddenly blistered into life, coiling and writhing in the snare of a growing flame. I’d half-expected to see you there, surprised at my disappointment when I didn’t, and I knew I had to see you.

I had to find out.

Put it all to rest, I suppose.

You get your drink and my hand is raised, fingers half-curled, half-waving, just waiting…yet again, stuck somewhere between inaction and decisive movement. I want to bite my lip—you’ve made me nervous—but I don’t dare wreck my lip-gloss. It doesn’t matter, because you see me then, and you smile. God, you haven’t forgotten how to smile, that’s for sure. I am caught up and held in that megawatt grin, and as you walk over you don’t seem to have changed at all. You reach my table, and I’m sure I’ll knock something over as I stand up but, miraculously, I don’t. You set your drink down and say hello and, rising, I lean across to kiss your cheek. The evenings are still warm—I’m wearing a summer dress, my wrap abandoned on the back of the chair—and your fingers are cool as they curve against my arm. You smell different, a far better aftershave than you used to use, and your skin’s rougher on my lips.

I try to leave you unmarked, unblemished by the make-up I put on, I admit it, purely to impress you, and that seems funny, because once I tried so very hard to mark you.

Available for free download from Alpheratz Press

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The Invention of Vicky and Charlie

Audrey and I gave each other some DVDs for Valentine’s Day, and today finished watching the fourth of four movies. How did they stack up?

The best, I think, was “Charlie Wilson’s War.” Tom Hanks isn’t always great, he was, after all, in a terrible movie with a dog once, and he has been featured in marginal movies made from marginal books by a marginal author whose name rhymes with “Tan Clown.” But this is a good one, and Hanks does have a talent for “period” films—think “Saving Private Ryan,” “Apollo 13,” or even, thought the events were totally fictional, “The Green Mile.”

Anyway, in “Charlie Wilson’s War,” he plays a somewhat tainted Congressman who nonetheless champions the cause of Afghanistan after the Soviet invasion. It’s not always remembered as well as it ought to be that the Taliban takeover of that country was partly due to the face that we were willing to arm anybody who would kill Russians, but the Russian invasion was every bit as cruel as it was depicted in the movie, and forcing them to leave Afghanistan was an achievement.

Hanks is good in the movie, and so is an actor who has a somewhat more uneven record, in my opinion—Julia Roberts, who actually plays a complex and mature woman in the film. And Amy Adams? Well, she’s Amy Adams. I know it’s probably for all the wrong reasons, but yes I am a fan.

America’s post-Vietnam history is too full of fits and starts—of foreign involvements either handled very badly or begun well but ended too soon. Such is the case with this movie, where, as Charlie so colorfully says, we “messed” up the end game.

My rating? Four and a half of five daisy petals. Definitely worth a look.

Next, in my opinion, was “The Invention of Lying.” I was a bit troubled by the film, whose star, Ricky Gervais, is pretty open about his atheism in real life and certainly espouses that philosophy in this flim. I can see why some religious people are troubled by this film, which treats religion as the uber-lie.

Still, the film cleverly creates and presents an alternative universe where humans are not capable of lying. That somehow works. I loved the movie company in the film, which, since humans could not write fiction, was reduced to having “readers” recite history. Gervais’ character, Mark Bellison, is stuck with the 13th Century, and thus is not very successful. Jennifer Garner is charming as his love interest, although the weakness of the film, one that is shared by too many movies, is that the entire basis of love appears to be sex.

Still, another thought-provoking, watchable movie. The humor is a bit harsh and anti religion, but then again there is noting duplicitous or dishonest about it, and I don’t mind if people don’t share my philosophy as long as they are thoughtful and honest about theirs.

Four of five petals. (Daisy petals just seems like a good rating system for movies.)

Somewhat less successful was Wallace and Gromit, “A Matter of Loaf and Death.” I like W and G, and this was somewhat funny, but not as inventive as some of their earlier work. And for some reason, Wallace was not as obsessed with cheese as he should have been. I missed the cheese.

Three petals. Just as an Ebert review of three stars is favorable, I would say this is more of a plus than a minus, but if you have not encountered the clay British chap and his more intelligent canine sidekick, this would not be the best first introduction, but if you enjoy W and G it’s certainly worth a look.

Finally, “Vicky, Cristina, Barcelona.” Did I like it? Just saw it, and honestly, I’m not sure. It was nice to see that Spanish actor from “No Country for Old Men” being passionate rather than being a serial killer.

It’s a Woody Allen film, and like some of his other movies, sometimes bogs down a bit as characters sit around and yack and the camera pans back and forth and you get a bit tired of the verbal ping-pong. And the characters irritate you by saying one thing and doing another.

It’s a “love” story that is really a sexual lust story. Of course, lust and sex are strong adult motivations, and I don’t mind if a movie maker explores those motivations.

And I like a lot of Woody Allen movies.

Also, Penelope Cruz is always watchable. And Scarlett Johansson is very interesting as the glue that holds Penelope and Javier Bardem together.

Furthermore, I really liked Spain, want to go there.

On the other hand, I found the movie slightly yucky. The husband comes off as a bore simply because he is one of the few characters who acts like an adult. Bardem’s artist character is particularly irritating, and I couldn’t help but think he was partly Allen’s alter ego (and Allen himself seems more than slightly creepy).

How many petals? I guess three, but a more mixed three than W and G. Still worth seeing, but has some minuses, too.

That’s it for now. I’m reading an old Bill Bryson book, “The Mother Tongue,” and a memoir by another author, “The Last Kid Picked.” When I finish one, I’ll blog about it. Planted Hollyhocks a week ago, they are supposed to take 10 to 14 days to germinate but are already showing. Morning Glories and Moon Flowers will be started next, but not yet, since germination time is pretty quick for them and it will be some weeks before plants can go in the gardens. Gardens themselves are a beehive of activity—the Sedum from last year doesn’t look like it’s been in the dark for three months under three feet of snow, but it has. The new rose bush in front looks particularly vibrant with almost totally green canes. Most bulbs in the new garden haven not declared themselves yet, but in sunnier back gardens many green things are showing.

It’s officially spring in Iowa. Very early spring, still chilly and I would not be surprised by a last season snow fall one of these cool, wet days, but still. Cedar Rapids doesn’t look as sunny as Barcelona yet, but it’s not Siberia anymore, either.

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