Tim Curry, too?

Jesus Christ, who's next? Michael Caine? Robert De Niro? Judy Dench? This nonstop loss is hurting me.

I saw The Rocky Horror Picture Show in San Antonio while at Trinity University. 1977. There was an ad in the school paper, showing Frankie in full corset and fishnets, and I had to go. If I remember right, it was at the Northwest Theatre, off Loop 410 and I-10. Six screens.

I was at the first midnight screening and it was full but not all that participatory, yet. I got to hear the whole film without the crowd's responses. Those started up within a few weeks. I brought a water pistol and bought popcorn and a Hershey's chocolate bar with a soda by the third time I saw it.

Fifty years later and I can still quote it...probably because I've seen it dozens of times. And I still love the message: Don't dream it, be it...no matter what the consequences.

That was Tim...and I had such a crush on him. So lean and frisky and just plain out there. He had no duplicate. No shadow worth noting. He is, was, and always will be one of a kind.

I got to meet him when I was working at Book Soup, handling the newsstand. The moment I saw him, I choked up. Couldn't speak. He was so very gracious and smiled and said, "It's a pleasure to meet you," in his melodious purring voice. Even though we hadn't actually officially met. And all I could do is nod like an idiot.

I know he's been ill for well over a decade, but still...him leaving on the same day as Dolly is so fucking hard to bear.

Dolly Parton 1946-2026

 Why do the good ones leave too soon?

I stole this from John Helfgott...

Dolly Parton is dead at 80, and her video announcing it she asked her own nephew to record years in advance. Bryan Seaver, Parton's nephew and her head of security for more than two decades, said she died peacefully Tuesday in Nashville. Then he passed along a request she had left with him. 

"Dolly called me and said she wants to rest in a beautiful bed of plush cotton because after a life wearing heavy rhinestones, she finally deserves to be comfortable and have some rest." 

Five days before she died, Parton said publicly that she had been dealing with health issues she "didn't pay attention to when I was watching over Carl," her husband Carl Dean, who died in March 2025 after 58 years of marriage. Earlier this month she pulled out of a Dollywood appearance, saying her Nashville doctor had "kinda clipped my wings." 

In 2023, as Tennessee lawmakers pushed through a stack of anti-trans laws and tried to ban drag performances in public, Parton said trans people cannot help being trans "any more than I can help being Dolly Parton." "I just want everybody to be treated good," she said. 

To the Christians who came after her for it, she had already answered: "If you're the fine Christian that you think you are, why are you judging people? That's God's job." 

When Austin drag performer Brigitte Bandit spent that same year fighting Texas's anti-drag law in court, in full drag, Parton sent her a signed, bejeweled guitar. 

In April 2020 she gave $1 million to coronavirus research at Vanderbilt. Dr. Naji Abumrad, the friend who told her what the lab was working on, said her money made the research go "10 times faster." She took the Moderna shot on camera and told the holdouts not to be "such a chicken squat." 

Her Imagination Library has mailed more than 300 million free books to children. She built it for her father, Robert Lee Parton, who could not read or write. "He got to live long enough to hear the kids call me the Book Lady."

😭😭😭😭😭

Have I gone as far as I can?

I'm a bit down, right now, because today I fell into looking back over my life and having one of those brutal moments of clarity at just how stupid I've been, over and over and over. I've never really thought things through before doing them, and never really understood their implications until years later.

Seriously, I bounced between one event and another without any plan or a clue as to what I'm doing. That helped fuck up a movie project in Houston. Helped me decide to go to college for film instead of just moving out to LA and learning it from scratch, when I was young enough to be able to do so and could have lived with my folks.

I used to think a lot of this was due to fear, but it wasn't really. It was usually just the easier path, and I always knew I could retreat if things got to be too bad. Like they did in NYC after I was accepted to NYU's Graduate School of Film. Like what happened the first time I moved to LA, years later. 

Both of those would have been work, and while I claimed I had an attack of ego over NYU, then swore part of it was due to fear...it was really just a blank inability in my brain to consider ways to make it come together for me. Either time. I had no real plan. I'd just gone feet-first into it and not liked how it didn't gel for me so paddled my ass back to shore.

On top of this, I've been an asshole so damn much, I should use it as my middle name...or my title. Asshole Kyle M Sullivan. How would you abbreviate that? As? Ash? Aho? Instead of Mr.

I never know when I'm being one. I just look back and wonder, Why the fuck did I do that or say that or act like that?

And now I'm old and in pain and cranky and cannot figure out what the fuck I was doing with my life except just tumbling from one moment to another. And hurting people as I go. Half the reason I prefer to live alone is so I can't hurt anyone or anything, anymore.

That's not a legacy to be proud of.

A nothing day...

Got to bed at 4:30am. Slept till after 1pm. And the whole of today was nothing. Just...I dunno. Nothing. 

I did manage to make myself go out and get milk, at least, since I wanted tea and didn't have enough for it. 

Right now, I'm watching episodes of Murder, She Wrote from 1985...which are mindless entertainment.

I also read more of Second Foundation...and I can sense some decisions being made in the back of my brain about what project to fall into, next. Nothing definite, yet...just me waiting for me to tell me what I am going to do until I decide not to, again.

I read an interesting comment in a post on someone's Facebook page -- Technical perfection can impress the mind, but emotional purity alters the soul. It hit me that in my head I keep trying for the best English grammar and story structure possible, thinking that will mean I'm doing right as a writer. But deep within I want to affect the reader emotionally. I wonder if those are mutually exclusive within me.

I try to paint images with words. Use words to lead to emotions. And sometimes I get carried away in the argument between them. Because it is an argument. I've read books that are of "great meaning" and demand you understand glorious point they are making. Things like Carl Theodore Dreiser's An American Tragedy and John Fowles' The Collector. I can acknowledge the precise language but find them emotionally inert. They're so intent on telling you what to think, you can't.

I like to believe the chapter in Bobby Carapisi, where the title character reveals he's about to kill himself and is begging forgiveness for it, hits better because it's not great English; it's a man at the end of his rope and in chaos.

And when Jake finds out what happened to his uncle in The Vanishing of Owen Taylor, and all he can do is sit in a hotel room and sketch image after image of himself, in a mirror, in order not to have to think about it...the absence of me explaining his emotional state hits harder than if I spent paragraphs detailing it.

So is that what I was trying to do with The Murder of a Quiet Man? Find the emotion before knowing the story? It's possible.

En route home...

I'm writing this on the plane that's taking me from Denver to Buffalo. It's 3 hours late. The flight from Little Rock to Denver was fine and on time, but then Southwest got all Southwest-y and started bumping my connecting flight by an hour at a time.

So I won't get home till after 3am. Lovely. I should have known better than to think everything was going well. Now I'm done with Southwest. I'm looking into another airline to take me to Seattle at the end of October.

The one good thing about this flight, since we are currently experiencing turbulence, is I chatted a bit with a man who is amazingly good-looking and would be on the same flight. But he's in the cheap seats and I'm in extra legroom. I lucked out and got a row to myself so would have offered it to him, but soon as we were airborne he went to sleep.

I could sleep, as well...but I'm not really feeling the need, at the moment. It's still nearly 2 hours to landing so I might catch a short nap, but I want my OJ, first.

I'd forgotten how much I enjoy reading a good book, and Asimov's Foundation Trilogy is most excellent. I know how it goes but still forgot some parts and it's fun to rediscover them. I'm into Second Foundation, now, and feel no need to push myself to work on anything of my own. It's all still percolating.

And now I'm zoning, a bit...

Staying in Buffalo...

Today I built the boxes into Gaylord containers, on pallets, and it was work. The storage boxes are 10" deep and I stack them up three level, but the Gaylords are 36" deep and I don't want to deal with having to fill the blank space...so I cut them down. They're heavy-duty double-walled cardboard which was not easy to adjust. Between that and maneuvering everything into place, I think I sweated off 10 pounds.

I actually drank water. I don't usually drink water. My fluids come from DPZ and tea. But today, I polished off a bottle of SmartWater.

At least it all got done before noon, and it was only 96 degrees out. Hence my determination to stick with Buffalo and its much milder summers. Little Rock reminded me too damn much of Houston heat and humidity, something I never liked.

Something else? I am not at all impressed with the selection of food in this town. I found a deli...that was like a light shorthand version of Cantor's...and they couldn't work out how to make a regular Reuben a Turkey one. So I got a BLT that was small but tasty and a cup of broccoli cheese soup that they said was made from a veggie base.

I'm still not thinking about writing anything. I continued reading Asimov's book when I got back to the hotel and nuked a light dinner and am very relaxed. Took another nap in that recliner.

Tomorrow I head home on a 3pm flight, by way of Denver. I'll decide what next to do once I'm back in my abode. This job went far smoother than I expected...but it still wore me out. I'm just too old to keep doing this.

I hate saying that...

Well, well, well...

The pickup went off without a hitch and very quickly. I set it up in two stages -- one crew to bring the boxes downstairs from the library and stage them in the dining room; I got them through UHaul moving help. The actual freight collection came a couple hours later. In between, I grabbed some lunch.

Tomorrow, I build the shipment into Gaylord containers and then they're off. My hope is to be done by noon, but we'll see how it goes. This has a lot more detail to it -- cutting boxes down, layering, shrink wrapping and banding, then labeling. Step by step.

What's interesting is how none of the stories I was working on or characters in them have even really tried to get me to think about them. Instead, I'm enjoying a bit of peace in thought and mind. This room I'm in has a recliner, and while it's on the grungy side it's also quite comfy and just right for reading.

Makes me think I should get one for my apartment. I took a nice 2-hour nap in it, this afternoon.

One thing I am leaning towards is doing a trip to Montreal and then back down to Toronto. Which would be for Adam's part of Dair's Window. Something else I might do is extend my stay in Seattle by a day or two, to research Dair's issues with the lawsuit Adam's parents file against him.

So it looks like that's what I'm leaning towards for my next book. Because Simon still doesn't know what he wants to say. I have a feeling it's going to center around his relationship with Doyle, which became abusive...and turned Simon into something cruel against the man. But that needs a lot of sorting out before I do anything more with it.

Let it simmer; I've got a lot of DW already written.

Decent BBQ...sort of...

Job is done. 75 boxes. Pick up tomorrow afternoon. Then will be packed into Gaylord containers and off on their way. And I go home on Saturday.

Well...I finally found a decent BBQ place -- Whole Hog Cafe. I was going to hit one called Wright's, but not only was the line to order a good 2 dozen people in front of me, there was no place to sit. Just long country-style benches already packed, and in a dark Quonset hut. The vibe was all wrong, so I left.

Got a 4 rib platter (that gave me 5 ribs) with baked beans and cheesy corn...and loved it. Except for one thing. Apparently, Little Rock goes for a sweeter sauce than I like. I ate the ribs without it.

Then I came back to the hotel, took a nap...and woke up with a cramp in my leg. From standing in one spot for so long, I'm sure. Getting old sucks.

What do I mean getting? I am old. And cranky. And tired.

I didn't think about any writing, today. I'm just going to have a cupof hot teas and read more of Asimov's Foundation Trilogy.

Ironic...

I'm almost done with this job, already. I've packed 61 boxes and probably have 11 more to go, and I'm exhausted. My back hurts. My legs are rebelling. And I have yet to have a decent meal in Little Rock. I should be finished by noon, tomorrow, so may go on the search for some ribs.

The funny part is, this library is a massive collection of mysteries and crime fiction. I've seen first editions of Earl Stanley Gardner, who wrote the Perry Mason books. Ellery Queen. John D. MacDonald. Agatha Christie. Rex Stout. Sue Grafton. You name it.

And here I am working on a crime story that I can't figure out. I actually thought, for a moment, of turning it into a Jake Blaine mystery, as a followup to The Vanishing of Owen Taylor...but that got shot down all the way around. MQM is Simon's story and then ReShawn's. Jake couldn't see a way into it.

And reality is, What happened to Jake's Uncle Owen is too similar to what happens with Simon...

Could that be the problem I'm having? Am I repeating myself with no point in sight? Just a rehash of the all-pervasive homophobia that is rampant in the police force and most DA's offices? Am I really out of ideas?

I'm not jumping at the shift to Dair's Window because that would be a romance, basically. But the way Adam wants to tell his story and how Dair can't seem to settle down for his part makes me uncomfortable.

Jesus, I just noticed...10pm and it's 88 degrees. This is why I will never live in the South, again.

Life in the semi-fast lane...

Normally when I'm packing a library I think about whatever project it is I'm working on. Not full-fledged, non-stop thinking but a kind of reverie where I let thoughts scamper about in my brain. It's mingled in with books I recognize and appreciate, but not this time.

I don't think I had a thought in my head except what was focused on the books I was packing. Maybe it's because I was exhausted from yesterday's travel and having to get up at 7am to go collect the packing materials. Which did manage to fit nicely into my rented Wagoneer.

Of course, I still talked to a few of the volumes. Set some up as buddies to protect each other. Saw really nice editions of some I'd read. And just meandered through the day, for the most part. Nothing came knocking from MQM or DW. 

Though another reason for that might be because I had to listen to the new version of All Quiet on the Western Front the client was watching, and it sounded vile. Lots of screaming and explosions and gunfire and retching and gurgling as men died in a pointless war. For 2.5 hours.

I've seen the original one made in 1930 and it was truly harrowing. There was a moment in one battle sequence during a tracking shot where a soldier grabs a fence of barbed wired, is hit by an explosion, and all that's left is his hands and forearms hanging from the wire. It's one of those great films that I could only watch once.

Something else that struck me was how fake some of the cheering sounded. Almost like a studio laugh track. Needless to say, I won't be checking this one out.

Maybe I'll take my earbuds tomorrow and use those to cancel out the noise.