For real, no joke…Merry Christmas.
For real, no joke…Merry Christmas.
Sounds like a romantic rendezvous, doesn’t it? Funny thing, I’m working on a short story––a ‘zombie-porn story’ for an anthology called 50-Shades of Decay. I’m not kidding.
I’m not speaking any more about zombie-porn until my story is accepted. This topic is closed, but it has been a long time since I’ve posted anything on the Shortbus. I figured it was time to pop up again. I’ve done a fair bit of blogging though… if you are interested in my new adventure, google two words, Skyrim Prodigy.
I’d written a typical ‘career-suicide’ Shortbus post, but I’m trying to avoid hurting myself any more than I must. It was good and fiery, pointed and with poisoned tips. Sadly, being a published author had turned me into a begging ass-kisser to everyone. I can no longer afford to rub anyone wrong—even the most despicable of scum. I’ve become a hostage to my art.
Still, I’m going to try to keep the Shortbus alive. I will continue to write about C-Jane and my strange travels, but since we are both being financially punished those will be very few. Expected trips, March we are going to Ireland. When we had money, we pre-paid for most of the trip, so we are still going despite our deep poverty. I am also going to the World Horror Convention in New Orleans in June. I’m in an anthology that might be nominated for a Bram Stoker Award. Plus I might have a chance to read a little bit from one of my books.
I can’t afford to go to movies anymore, but Netflix still brings us movies for cheap. I might begin writing Shortbus style reviews for some of the DVDs we watch. (YAWN) yeah, I know. Like I said, I’m a hostage to my art, gone are the glory days of knocking down other people’s card houses.
Interesting that Sober is the song playing as I write this. The drunken ramblings that are the Shortbus to Hell must change–as I’ve stated now for more than a year. These anonymous blah-blah-blatherings that we have all enjoyed are doing nothing for my career. C-Jane and I intentionally left Las Vegas so as to purge the mean-spirited attitude. I think our escape worked. Life here is not ‘perfect,’ for whatever that word means in reality, but the intense hate has fallen off. Since its inception, the Shortbus was intended as a way to release hostility incurred by a purely apathetic society. I have left that society and so I’ve also abandoned my hostility. Now that anger serves no one.
I cannot delete the Shortbus, that would be wrong, but the frequency for which I post here will be greatly diminished. I will eventually leave a link to my ‘professional’ blog, and then one for a new project that is in the works as we speak. Since I write fantasy fiction and I am a huge gaming dork, I’ve decided that I should do fan-fiction of the game Skyrim. It will be as niche as the Shortbus, but with a greater reach and attracting more readers that might buy my books. To continue investing in humorous, yet spiteful rants serves no one.
Those who have remained loyal to this kooky blog, don’t worry, I will still post here. I still have to give ‘Big-J’s presidential endorsement’ — which I promise you will love. Occasionally, if something fun happens, I’ll post it here, but reviews about entertainment need to go to my other blog, book reviews and author interviews belong there too. I’ve sought to post about once a week here on the Shortbus, and that is going to slow drastically. Here is one promised link for those who are interested.
Before I get started I just want to express how relieved I am that Mitt Romney admitted he was wrong about what he said about 47% of all Americans. Of course, C-Jane and I knew all along he was referring to the other 47% and not you or me. Apology accepted; now please, take your rightful throne in the White House oh’ king of kings.
Should I repeat what Glen Beck said this week? … sorry, I’m digressing.
So, we awoke in Twin Falls Idaho, the land of options. In the complimentary breakfast area were several genetically modified bagels with human-hair yeast substitute–imported from China, or the option of the same waffle that every corporate hotel in the US offers their grossly over-charged “guests.” I had the waffle as C-Jane colorfully mimicked my, “F*** this, let’s eat in Boise.”
We collected Sam and the first thing we noticed as we left the building was “Wow, it sure is a lot cooler here than in Vegas.” Our thin, reptilian blood was not used to the absence of “HOT!” like in Vegas. Lucky Sam had a coat of hair.
Sam seemed less disturbed by this day of travel than he had the day before. At least he refrained from living in his litter box. He seemed very sad, resigned to depression as if C-Jane’s car was his sentence for living the good life in Vegas. This has been a pretty crappy year for the Sam Cat since he was the only one home when we were burglarized, there was C-Jane’s absence for several business trips, and at least three visits from RJ, Best Man for Hire. Sam doesn’t really like him––it’s the smell of old cabbage and Brut cologne spoiled by the stale reek of Marlboro. Moving across country seemed the final insult to Sam’s need for structure, so he lay writhing in his cage, moaning in forlorn misery.
The drive across Idaho was uneventful. We made it to Portland without anything worth writing about. We made it with enough spare time to retrieve our new keys, and we introduced Samson to his new home. My step-dad and mother had driven up a different way and pulled a trailer full of our stuff with their big truck. That night, we met for dinner at a nice German pub. Yummy.
It took Sam most of the week to get it together. We’d hired help to unload our trailer, and Sam hid in a cupboard. The internet guys came, and Sam hid in a cupboard. We put all our stuff in its new place, and Sam hid in the cupboard. He really does put the ‘pussy’ in ‘cat.’
Next up at bat–Fun Times at the DMV.
I’m pretty excited—well, about as excited as Big-J ever gets. My second novel is being released on September 1st. I am very happy with book II. It is the next evolution of my abilities as a fiction writer. It is like heroin hitting the brain of a junkie who’s been dry for days.
I have a short story that will be released in an anthology on the exact same day. Sadly, because of all the rotten things I say here, I cannot say which novel or anthology. I realized to vent all these toxic things were to be rid of them. Now you know the truth to why I do this blog. At one time I believed it was possible to get to the bottom of this deep well of unpleasant feelings so I could begin writing about kittens and cute little bunny rabbits. It didn’t turn out that way and I’ve accepted this is where I exercise with my demons. It may look like a lot of jumping-jacks and running in place, but my demons are getting stronger. Put simply, I write these things because I have to.
When I write crazy/mean stuff about rotten Las Vegas, it is skeleton work for a story or a character that hasn’t been written yet. Today’s poison is tomorrow’s tonic. I wonder if when I get to the ‘Beaver State’ I’ll become nicer. When I lived in Dallas I was still cynical, but never quite this mean. The saying is, “No matter where you go, there you are,” but is this me? Does environment have an effect on my personality? We shall see.
I expect some interesting posts coming up on the Shortbus. I have Part Two of Exit Strategy formulated and it just requires a brave adventure to the Strip for a few pictures. It’ll be the last thing I’ll write before disassembling my desktop. By this time next week, C-Jane and I will be homeless. It is only for a week, but that by itself has got to be worth a post or two. C-Jane will participate in a Karate Belt Test in San Diego during our period of exile. I hope to do lots of crappy photo-shopping merged with a healthy dose of creative bullshitting.
Don’t worry about Samson the Cat. He will not be homeless with us. C-Jane’s parents will give shelter to the Sam Cat. Then he’ll get together with us for our road trip to Oregon. Expect at least one Sam post before the end of September.