Ah, life...and taxes...

I started pulling together my tax information, today. six weeks later than I usually do. I haven't even contacted my CPA, yet, to see when she can fit me in to do it. Not that I'm in any rush. I'd have to pay something, as usual...but I'm thinking I may refuse.

I don't want my taxes used by Felon47's administration for anything they do. The war in Iran. Handing my tax dollars to billionaires. Paying to have that bastard's name emblazoned over everything like we're fucking North Korea or the USSR under Stalin.

Hell, I may not even file a tax return, this year. See what happens. Except I already know. I got into trouble with the IRS once, nearly 40 years ago. I made a mistake on one tax return for $200 and they acted like I was trying to bankrupt the country. Took a couple of years to get it settled, and that was over nothing. That's also when I started using a CPA.

I don't know what to do, I'm so sick at heart at seeing what's happening to the country. I protest. I howl online. And write my reps demanding they stop politicking and start DOING something to stop him. And none of it works. So I spiral into sadness.

On top of it, Chapter 19 of TN was really brutal. It included things I really do not like, such as water sports and biting hard enough to draw blood. A touch of sexual terrorism. I know some erotic writers have no trouble with this; I've read sone and backed away. My core is still very vanilla. 

Hell, I'm having a glass of milk, right now, to help me center myself. That's always been my go-to when I'm spiralling.

Must be the Norwegian in me.

20 Chapters.

Taking Nicky is set at 20 chapters and just over 50K in words. I pulled an all-nighter and got it worked out. Went to bed at 7am and slept till after 1pm...but I'm glad I did it. I didn't hold back on anything. Having the heating pad on my neck helped me feel better.

Today, I'm letting it sit then I will go over the last two chapters to do my usual WTF was I thinking? nonsense. Change some bits. Intensify others. Add to the suspense. And make sure the Coda is clear and proper.

I'm sort of following the Oscars as the evening goes.Wish Delroy Lindo had won supporting actor and Ryan Coogler got director. Paul Thomas Anderson's always hit me as a bit pretentious and artsy-fartsy. Nothing wrong with that, but I just learned his film got Best Picture...and that feels wrong, to me.

I am glad for Michael B Jordan. Very glad. And at least Coogler got Original Screenplay, and Sinners won Cinematography...done by a woman of color, named Autumn Durald Arkapaw. That is great, because she's the first female and first person of color to win.

I used to watch the Oscars, almost religiously. I'd get a bag of Doritos, Frito bean dip, and a 2-litre bottle of Dr Pepper and that would last me the full 3.5 hours. But then I drifted away from going to movies. I left LA and didn't get to see many of the nominees, elsewhere. Now I don't even have a TV to watch it on. I just get posted updates and that's fine.

Oh, well...we all change as we get older...

Oh, for cryin' out loud...

I didn't go out yesterday or today. Stayed in due to the weather and to get some writing done. But I feel like a cold is coming on. Achy. Nose acting up. Head not quite there. Throat threatening me. And I don't know where it came from. 

I had a maintenance guy in to fix my bathroom sink's cold knob, but I wasn't really around him and he didn't sound sick. Or seem sick. He was here maybe ten minutes in the bathroom, and I stay out when they're working.

I did go to the office to pick up a couple of packages that came...one of which was that copy of Graeme Tomlinson's book...and some people came on the elevator going down with me, but they didn't come across as ill, either.

But here I am, close to shivering and a heating pad on my shoulders. And finding when I type I'm making all kinds of mistakes. Which usually happens when I'm not feeling 100%. I catch them, but it's irritating.

At least I got another 2700 words written and know where Taking Nicky is going from here. One more chapter, for sure...maybe a second as an epilogue. It's a case of Vance thinking he's gained control of Rett...only to find out he hasn't. My guy is a scorched earth type, when need be.

Okay...in that last couple of sentences, I typed he;s and heed instead of he's and need. I've been doing shit like that all day...as if my fingers are not completely connected to my brain, or my synapses are misfiring. I may need to have myself evaluated for brain issues. Alzheimer's runs in my family.

That is something I do NOT want to have to deal with.

(BTW, the artwork is by Mariusz Kulak)

Weather...whether...

It snowed today. Long and hard for over two hours. Unable to see more than a thousand feet. Layered the world around me in white. Soft and pure. Then it passed away...and an hour later it was pouring rain with heavy winds. And now it's all gone.

I stayed in. Thought about things. Slipped into a frame of mind that questioned why I'm writing. Why I've all but stopped sketching, let alone painting. Remembered I planned for years...through high school and after....to be an artist. 

Fell in love with abstract expressionism, but wanted to mix its subconscious non-representational emotion and gesture with the human form. 

Male human form. Everybody was doing women. I'd even begun seeing the Andrew Wyeth paintings of Helga, here and there, and started wondering if I could find some way of combining that precise beauty with the careful freedom of Willem de Kooning and lovely men.

But it never happened. Oh, I did paintings. Male nudes. Single. Double. Groups. Working in acrylics on board. Sold some to collectors. Gave others away. Did some off-beat designs of cityscapes that became t-shirts and posters. Then for some reason turned to writing.

But even in my writing I tried to paint images with words. And still, working on a piece of gay erotica, I'm fighting to build more than a picture in the reader's mind of what is there and happening. Not just the action and emotion, but the blending of background and foreground and colors and styles. A life, not merely a tale.

Then today...after thinking about what I posted yesterday, for Taking Nicky...I suddenly wondered if I've just been wasting my time on something that was counterproductive to my true reason to be. Words cannot take the place of images. Never. You can try and come close...and worlds can be build in one's mind and emotions touched...but nothing supplants actually seeing.

So I feel like I've spent 50 years riding the wrong horse...and now cannot even get myself to do a fucking sketch. To pick up a paint brush, again.

How fitting I'm feeling this way on Friday, the 13th.

Well, back to wondering what I'm doing...

I uploaded chapter seventeen of Taking Nicky and may wind up with three more, depending on how this goes. Rett learns Niko is controlled by Vance, financially and career-wise, and is willing to help him escape that control. How? I have no idea.

The chapter ends with them headed over to Niko's condo in Santa Monica to look over his taxes from last year. Maybe some financial statements. None of which will show a damned thing except Niko gets wayt overcharged for everything so has little money left over.

Rett's also got Ben and Liam back on his side, and he's willing to accept them...and that makes no sense to me. They worked with Vance to hurt him and he's fine with them still helping him out? Realistically, I can't see it...but I have a feeling Rett has his reasons.

That was something I learned a long time ago...that everyone has his good reasons. It's a quote from Jean Renoir's The Rules of the Game. Funny that the English title is in the plural; the original French is singular. La Règle du Jou. 

Perhaps I should take that more into account with my world, a simple change that means everything...and reveals the limitations of the world.

Goodreads...

Well...A Place of Safety-Home Not Home got a 5-star review on Goodreads...

This powerful continuation of the story pulls readers straight into Brendan’s emotional and dangerous journey back to Derry. The author does a remarkable job portraying the tension of the political unrest while also diving deeply into Brendan’s personal struggles with family, betrayal, and painful truths from the past. 

I was especially drawn to the complex relationships, particularly the conflict with his brother Kieran and the revelations about his father and Joanna. The pacing keeps the suspense alive while allowing space for reflection. It’s a gripping and thought-provoking read that blends history, emotion, and suspense beautifully. 

I highly recommend it to readers who enjoy intense, character driven historical drama.

Makes me very happy. And here's my website to locate all three volumes of the story, should anyone want to read it for themselves.

Backtracking...

Well...I let a minor character hijack Chapter Seventeen of Taking Nicky and take it to a place I did NOT like. Then he argued with me when I didn't want to go there. So...I cut all but the first 200 words of what I'd written and will start over, tomorrow.

I have enough brutal sex in the story, god knows I do. Especially Chapter Sixteen, which is nonstop. So I want a pull back to normalcy. Tenderness, even. I'm trying to find a way to have Rett's obsession with Nicko turn positive.

Which is crazy to want because he just raped the guy. So am I going for a Stockholm Syndrome deal between the two of them? That seems awfully fake...and I hate fake, even in erotica.

Unless...Niko turns the tables on Rett and gets him to become...what? His slave? Sugar Daddy? Bondage master? Benefactor? I dunno...

Screw it. I'm taking tomorrow off and giving myself time to think. May have to, anyway. I'm trying to get in to see my doctor about a sore that was healing but is suddenly back to being red and rough. Like it's infected. Nothing I'm doing seems to make a difference, so it's medical alert time.

Oh, and in the world of no good turn goes unpunished...I went to Walgreens for some meds and a homeless guy at the entrance asked for shampoo. I bought him a travel size of Pantene. Gave it to him. Then he asked for the receipt. 

I'd paid for the shampoo at the same time I paid for a couple of prescriptions, so told him I needed it. He tossed a fit, in the store. Screaming, "I said please!" Over and over. I was so startled, I dropped everything...and he grabbed the receipt and stormed off. I didn't chase him; I was glad he was leaving.

But fuck me if I ever do anything decent for another person I don't know.

I can never be a vegan...

Today I ate right. Shredded wheat for breakfast (good fiber). Leftover cheese enchiladas and rice for lunch (home made). Hopped over to Wegmans for their avocado rolls for dinner (had 4 instead of only 2). Got a great reading on my blood sugar (132, which is under the 180 requested in the evening). And my snack was fruit cocktail (in fruit juice, with bananas).

But by 10:30pm I'd have killed for a cheeseburger. Right now, I'm eating some leftover mac and cheese cooked with ground beef and chili powder...and feeling much, much happier.

Now rather than feeling guilty, I'm just going to pay more attention to a guy who goes by The Fitness Chef. His name is Graeme Tomlinson, and has a pretty even-handed approach to diet...and his deadpan discussions are lovely...

I'm not geared to veggies all that much. Broccoli gives me gas like you wouldn't believe, and if I eat more than a couple fronds sends me to the toilet. Salad's fine...a couple days a week. Spaghetti with my own meat sauce is lovely. I even like it reheated. 

Guess I'm just a carnivore, inside out. Raised on the idea your dinner has to have a meat, something green like peas or string beans, potato and bread. It's how I'm configured. So all I can do is try to eat less.

I had one hell of a time doing that in San Antonio, while dealing with my brother's illness and death. I put on about 5 lbs...which is good because I thought it'd be worse. And I've taken them off. This morning I was back to 220. So I'm going back to my old diet, just eating less of it at a time. I'd like to dip below 200, again, but it's been nearly 2 decades since that happened.

So I guess I'll get back to walking, as well...get some exercise.

And try not to be so grumpy doing it...

Evolving...

Chapter Sixteen of Taking Nicky is nothing but Rett finally getting to take Nicky...or Niko, as he's now called...and manipulates Ben and Liam to where they participate in it. And finds he wants more from Niko, now, now, now. Becomes obsessed.

But this is where the story shifts, again. Chapter Seventeen will be Rett finding out Niko had been sex-trafficked by his agent and Vance. The condo he lives in isn't his; it's where he's forced to stay by contract...at an exorbitant rent. That's taken straight out of his modeling fees.

In fact, his agency and others charge so much to him, he's lucky if he keeps 10% of his income. He's so broke, he can't even afford to have a dog, not that the owner of his condo would let him. The only thing he truly owns is his old Chevy Blazer.

He goes skating down the bike path to blow off steam when things get to be too much. And he knows he's been an asshole to people, but sometimes it's his only way to keep his sanity.

Funny, but I think Niko and Rett will wind up lovers living in Rett's condo. Maybe Niko will set up a social media platform about the true life of a model. Or go into business with Steve/Smoke making skates. No idea, yet.

But then, I had no idea this would go in many of the directions it did and still wind up here. I should stop worrying about how Dair's Window will turn out and just let it happen. Drop the structure I currently have. See where Adam and Dair take me.

Finally trusting Brendan to lead me right worked for A Place of Safety...

Lightning strikes...

One more pass through Taking Nicky's Chapter 15 to polish and check for typos...after having editor do a check...and up it goes onto GayDemon. I've also set up for chapter 16...and probably 17...and maybe 18. We shall see.

But by underestimating Rett, Ben and Liam have put themselves into a dangerous position...both physically and emotionally. Because Rett is out to teach them a lesson in not fucking around with people. Same for Niko.

Sixteen is that lesson being taught. Seventeen is emphasizing he is not to be trifled with. Eighteen, if there is one, is everything coming together with an HEA...so far...

Of course, reality is none of the people fucking around with Rett ever truly bothered to know or understand him. If they had, they'd have left him the hell alone.

Helps to have had a good sleep, overnight, and nice nap in the afternoon. And to be told you've got a 5-Star review for A Place of Safety-Home Not Home. I don't know where it's posted, but I'm told I have it.

One of the things I like most about writing, even when I don't, is how it keeps me from knowing too much about how the world is going...in real time. The evil of Felon47's administration just keeps getting worse, as does his defense by the MAGAt Cult...and it rips me apart.

I actually posted a comment on Xitter that I never thought I'd live to see America commit suicide, but here we are.

Yeah...here we are...