Too zoned, yesterday, to do any thinking...but now I'm sitting at Fort Lauderdale's airport waiting on a plane and can sort of contemplate more than just my weariness. Both fairs are done and happy...well, as happy as book and map dealers can be. It also helped that I was in a decent Best Western, last night, with quiet neighbors, access to making some evening tea and breakfast. I don't usually eat breakfast; I just grab some rolls or a bagel to take with me for later...but it makes a difference.
I'm giving up on Motel 6. I don't mind getting cheap when paying cheap, but the room I had with them was $150 a night, with taxes, and I had to pay extra for Wifi that was crap. Now they're sorry for the situation, but I don't care. I'm tired of excuses and apologies that don't come till after the fact.
So I've been sitting here with decent wifi going over the book jacket blurb, and I reworked it to the following --
I'm giving up on Motel 6. I don't mind getting cheap when paying cheap, but the room I had with them was $150 a night, with taxes, and I had to pay extra for Wifi that was crap. Now they're sorry for the situation, but I don't care. I'm tired of excuses and apologies that don't come till after the fact.
So I've been sitting here with decent wifi going over the book jacket blurb, and I reworked it to the following --
Jacob Blaine was no detective; he was a graphic artist working
for an advertising agency in Denmark. But then he learned his uncle, Owen Taylor, had vanished and, even more unsettling, mailed two cryptic notes to his address
in Copenhagen when the man knew perfectly well Jake had been living in Texas for the past year. It was like he wanted his nephew to do something but didn't bother to explain what.
Problem was, Jake didn't really know that much about his uncle; Owen had always carefully guarded his privacy. But that was never to complete exclusion, so it was a shock to learn the District Attorney's office had filed
charges against him for molesting an underage boy, and that his friends blithely assumed he had fled to Mexico to avoid prosecution. Only, Jake knew his uncle was not the type to run from a fight, especially since anyone could see the accusation was politically motivated. No question, something weird was going on.
That's when Jake set up a quick trip to Palm Springs, thinking it
would only take a few days to find out what was going on with his uncle.
Instead, he found himself trapped in a vicious web of lies, fear, distrust,
intimidation and manipulation woven by an anti-gay group named PSALMS, who would stop
at nothing to rid the city of its gay population.
Not even murder.
Better, but I feel like I need something more. Something to pop and just don't have the full notion of what, yet. Maybe when my brain is back in my mind, again...or my mind in my brain...whichever.
These days I never know which is which.
These days I never know which is which.
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