Maybe I'm not so bad a cook...

Job is done. Not feeling like socializing so did take-out for steak and mushroom sauce, pan seared Brussel Sprouts, and fries. Steak was tough but edible...with ketchup, which I have packets of. Dunno what the Brussel Sprouts were supposed to taste like, but were just greasy and bland. And the fries I'd swear were courtesy Ore-Ida. I've made this level of meal, myself, and it didn't cost me $25 (including tip).

Oh, well, I got all 240 books into 30 cartons, some of them oversized and HEAVY. But when one copy of a book weighs 30 lbs by itself, that's gonna happen. The client was very pleasant and accommodating, so my only whine is how tired I am. Dunno how much longer I can keep this up, but I'd like to rebuild by savings before I give into being too old.

Everything's being collected, tomorrow, then it's homeward bound. I'm paying $50 to check a bag on JetBlue. Too bad Southwest's schedule from Midway is so limited and still requires me to go through Baltimore. There used to be a nonstop from Buffalo, but that was back when the Canadians were coming across the border to fly around the US, and Chicago was a hub.

Now Canadians want nothing to do with us, and I don't blame them. Felon47 is doing all he can to isolate and destroy the US, like a controlling, abusive spouse. All I can do is support the Democrats who are pushing back, and howl at the MAGAts.

Don't do much good. Maybe I should start a religion based solely on the Gospels and use that to fight back against the beasts using Christ to excuse their evil. I am close to seeing Felon47 as the anti-Christ. Revelation 13:3 even seems to reference that ludicrous attempted assassination...

One of its heads seemed to have a mortal wound, but its mortal wound was healed, and the whole earth marveled as they followed the beast.

Like the ear that was clipped by a bullet...but is undamaged. And the red MAGAt caps being the mark of the Beast on their heads...

It's getting spooky.

Freedom brought by freedom...

Something is going on inside my brain, and it has to do with how I'm letting Dirc be the monster he is by proving he's not a monster but just a man. An extreme version of one, true, but more honest about what he wants, needs, and will do to get. I'm having no problem with any of it, all empathy in me be damned.

The next chapter in his story is him building his pack. Gathering others to be with him in his quest for wealth and comfort...and those others are all men. Dirc started off straight, but when he came back from the dead realized he was really gay and unwilling to be pissed upon. Which he is proving with a vengeance.

Irin was already gay but now is more-so and enjoying the fuck out of it. He can still get a bit overwhelmed by it all, but he's been to death and back so can't be all that intimidated. And these two fags being a pair makes them quite formidable.

Dirc's learned he can change the DNA of straight men he rapes. That may be why the Beast likes the men he submits to be eaten by the aliens flying by. Sort of like a Mel's Diner for ETs, with Dirc the master chef.

It's a pretty amoral concept to be happening...but if we ever do make first contact with the space crowd, I seriously doubt they'll see us as equals. Especially considering the MAGAt crowd's actions and Russian terrorism. 74 years ago, Klaatu said it well...Be nice or face obliteration.

Dirc's just setting the stage for the next level. Men on the same level as turkeys. White meat, or dark?

Quiet is good...

I got another chapter of BDO uploaded and think I may be closing in on the ending. It helps to have a nice hotel room with a small kitchen. They call it a suite but it's really a glorified single apartment. Which is good, because I've got a small stove, small refrigerator with a freezer, and microwave.

So after making a run to a nearby grocery store in sub-freezing weather to get lunches for the next two days and dinner for tonight, as well as water and DPZ, I hunkered down and started rewriting what I'd done yesterday. Three passes and it's gone.

I'm not worrying about precision or beautiful use of English or anything. Just let the story run till it's out of breath...something it's finally beginning to do. I think.

Dirc is a completely amoral beast, but I'm enjoying writing him. He kills two people in this chapter, one cold-bloodedly, but is also offering Lon some protection. He's the guy in the pawn shop who Helga got to verify Dirc and Irin were driving around Reno. He was quasi-arrested and has undergone experimentation to see if he's like Dirc, which he isn't. But he is damaged, now.

Dirc's like a wolf in the wild, with Irin as his mate, and he's building his pack. When they're done, they will be formidable. Barnes...AKA: Dr. Captain...recognizes the danger they pose and is hunting them down to remove them from civilization...by doing some very uncivilized things, himself. It's hard to tell who're the good guys and who're the bad ones, now, both sides are so vicious and vile.

Rather like life, these days.

I'm just along for the ride...

After a while, you just have to accept that you're nothing but the stenographer of your character's story. You input what they want into your laptop as they lead you through it, and then go back to make clarifications and revisions and work on inconsistencies. Something my characters like to forget about.

Me worrying about Dirc's situation was pointless. He's in control, and  already knew his way out. It had been referenced several times in the story. He's also a sneak and does things quietly while leading his oppressors down the garden path. Then he springs it on them.

On top of that, when he says he's going to do something, he does it. He once swore to break Helga's neck...and has done so. And very quietly, too, so no one knows.

Of course, that's not an absolute. I'm not crazy about how he gets to Petrie, one of the guards. It's too pat and easy, and I don't think the man would be there alone or harassing Lon. I'm a bit disappointed in Dirc for fronting that as a part of the story. He's better at what he does, than something so cheesy and bad TV-ish. So we need to discuss this further, dude.

I'm currently in Chicago in a nice-enough neighborhood on the north side of town. I took a cab from Midway here for $60, including tip. So much nicer than renting a car...and cheaper. Parking at this hotel is $40 a night. For 4 nights? Plus the cost of rental and gas? Even doing Uber every day it's $100 less, total.

I may try and do that from now on, whenever I can, since Avis is not exactly user friendly.

The Perils of Dirc...

I think I may have written myself into a corner, with The Beast Dines Out. I've got Dirc arrested and held in the back of a house in Reno, NV...locked into something he refers to as a Frankenstein chair, with clamps around his wrists and ankles...and I need to get him out.

I know I could change that but I just don't want to because it's what needs to happen. It's just...I have no idea how the hell to do it.

Irin's still out and about, holding a deputy sheriff as hostage. Dr. Captain, who is now named Barnes, and Helga, who still has no real name, are in control of Dirc...they think. He says they think they are. So it must be so...

One more aspect? Barnes makes a deal with Dirc over the Iridium rock he's got, then the second he is able to reneges on it. He's willing to let the deputy get killed if it means keeping control of Dirc and finding Irin. And the story keeps rolling along. Boom-boom-boom.

Oh, blue skies, this morning. Shipment picked up without a hint of rain. And driving around LA...God, how I miss it. Traffic sucks. The drivers are assholes. It's hard as shit to find parking. But it's home, to me. I know how to live here. I'd move back in a heartbeat, if I could afford it.

But I'd need a new car with an automatic, because no way in hell will I deal with this traffic, again, using a stick.

Rewriting...

It rained all day, and still is...so I'm glad I didn't try to pick up the cartons. Hopefully tomorrow will be clear. Positive thing is, I didn't spend a dime. I already had food stored in.

I got a weather alert from Southwest warning me my flight into and out of Baltimore might be affected by a monster snowstorm...which may also hit Chicago and Buffalo. I need to be at the Chicago job, next week, so I changed my return flight to drop me at Midway (instead of changing planes in Baltimore to get home). I'll still fly home out of O'Hare, as originally planned once this job is done. Weather permitting.

I stayed in my hotel room, today, and rewrote the chapter I'd done for The Beast Dines Out on the flight to LA. It needed a lot of rearranging and I'm not quite done with it, yet...but it's better. Leading into the final confrontation with the feds who are chasing after Dirc and Irin.

I'm still stuck as to what to work on after I'm done with BDO. Nothing is really connecting with me, yet. Maybe I should do some artwork to clear my head of the chaos. It's just...there's so damn much of it, now.

Twenty years ago, I wrote a script for a martial artist and had an Aikido master say he feared we were entering a new age of darkness. I thought I was being properly bleak and foreboding when I put that bit of dialogue in. Now? I may have been prescient.

I didn't want to be...

Not even In-n-Out worked...

It's pretty sad when you're in such a down mood not even a #2 cheeseburger meal, animal style, at In-n-Out can cheer you up. I mean, it was tasty and done just right and I enjoyed it while I ate it, but I'm really too emotionally and physically exhausted for it to work. Hell...for ANYthing to work.

Did my bankruptcy zoom meeting, this morning...and I was fourth in line after two women forced into bankruptcy by nasty divorces and a stoner dude who had trouble focusing. And I feel like such a fucking loser.

I got into this shit partly by trying to publicize A Place of Safety-Derry and getting nowhere with it, and from money I'd send my brother in San Antonio to pay for his rent and some running money, and car repairs, and research for APoS and groceries...and on and on.

Before Covid hit, I was closing in on paying off everything. Did all my back-taxes owed. Cleared one credit card, completely. Had my savings growing to $32,000. Then I lost 40% of my income, and that's despite getting unemployment for that period and the stimulus check. Credit cards were maintained because I still paid more than the minimum amount, but the balances continued to increase.

And now that Beast is in the White House wanting to kill Social Security and cut Medicare with everyone rallying around to help him do it...I had to do something to end the spiral I was caught in. I mean, this was going to happen sooner or later, so better to do it now than have to do it in a year.

It's affecting me in ways I don't like...like in writing The Beast Dines Out. I let Dirc specifically target a MAGAt...and made him dirty. Unclean. Dirc had to wash him before he could do anything, like a raccoon washes its meals. And there's going to be more like this, because I am having too damn much fun with it.

Maybe I'm the Beast...FEED ME!

I hate technology...

I'm packing a library of antiquarian books to go to auction, so I have a list that was sent to me via email. It's an XLS where each title has its own ID code/number. Nice and easy. Working on my laptop, I input the code into the search bar and it takes me right to the book. Movin' right along.

Except...sometime between noon and 2pm, Excel decided to change all the codes past #4500 to exact numerical order. Which they weren't. There were over a hundred books listed, but there were gaps in the codes. 4502 did not follow 4501; the next number was 4511.

It also removed the highlighting I did on those books that had been packed. I don't know why it did that, or exactly when...just somewhere in that 2-hour stretch. Because books I knew I'd ticked off under the correct number were no longer showing they'd been packed. And it only affected the numbers after 4500; numbers prior to that were fine.

What it boils down to is, my associate and I are having to go through the boxes we've already done to verify all the copies that have been packed. Precision is required. We've checked 5 of 9, so far; the rest we're going through tomorrow. I allowed a half day extra just in case, and looks like it's good I did. We should finish by Thursday night, then pickup is Friday morning.

But I'm dead beat, right now. Just want to sleep for the next ten years.

Hot roddin'...

Ha, the joys of air travel, today. Slammed like sardines into a can, with no room between seats to work your laptop comfortably. Even being Southwest Business Select and getting onto the plane first or second, giving you a shot at the exit row...which supposedly has more legroom...if you’re on a 737-700, that’s a joke.

Other airlines charge extra for the exit row seats, because they’re extra legroom. You get to pay an additional fee in order to be ready to assist in case of an emergency. So ridiculous and petty, so I avoid that. And...Southwest lets me check two bags at no charge, so I accept the limitations.

I have ways around it, and truth is...if this had been an 800 I’d have scored the extra room. But on this beast I had to do the bit where, once we’re airborne, I pull my carryon out from under the seat in front of me and prop it against my seat, like it’s part of an easy chair. That way, I can stretch my legs out under the chair in front of me. 

 I worked on BDO during the flight. Got started on a serious confrontation between Dirc and Dr. Captain at a Starbucks...but I think I’m missing how to intensify it so will hold off, for a moment, and let it percolate. I know Irin’s working with Dirc to counter anything Dr. Captain might pull. Hmm, I think it’s time to give that guy a name. I gave one to the Deputy, and the Cute Guard needs one, too. And can’t forget Helga and Lon... 

 Yeah, this section needs a lot more thought. I have my readers to consider, as well...and I do love being able to say that.

KISS...

Keep It Simple, Stupid. Don't read too much into this story you're writing. It's not like it's ever going to be seen as great literature...or even good fiction. It's fun fantasy for a niche group and they're enjoying themselves with it. Average rating is 9.5 out of 10. What more can you ask for?

Well...I would like an idea as to how I'm going to end The Beast Dines Out. A new character's become part of the story...a kid named Lon, who inadvertently confirmed to Helga that Dirc and Irin are in Reno.

So now he has disappeared, probably taken in for questioning. By Helga. The one person Dirc despises and has promised to kill.

Will Dirc be able to save the kid from a fate worse than death? He knows what she will do to him; knows it, first hand. But the kid also put a spotlight on the boys, so no telling. It's as much of a mystery to me as it is to the readers. But they're hanging on, for now, because I include something salacious with every chapter...that also furthers the story. Really. It does.

I think.

I hope.

Hell, I don't know. I just caught myself contradicting an important part of the storyline and need to explain it away in the next installment. I'm starting to feel a bit weird about this, as if I'm trying to top myself with each chapter.

Of course, it's also possible I'm just enjoying the salaciousness I keep coming up with...

Odds and ends...

I was trying to finish The Beast Dines Out before I headed off on these two jobs, but that ain't gonna happen. The story keeps rolling along. It's up to 80K in wordage, now, and just when I think it's winding down, it shoots off on another tangent. I know it won't continue forever...but still...

While the feedback off GayDemon has been very positive, I have been told a couple of times that in some of my other books my endings came across as rushed. Which could be true. Once I reach a certain stage in the story, I just want it finished.

But this time I'm refusing to let myself fall into that trap. That it's for a book that's closer to gay porn than anything I've ever written...and I don't care how some people classify other parts of my work...I find it amazing that it's working out.

I never had a plan or outline for this story. Just the main character, Dirc, and the extraterrestrial he calls the Beast, and their basic setup--provide men as sustenance. All others came along when the story wanted them.

After all, the idea of ETs using us as food is nothing new. H G Wells suggested as much in The War of the Worlds, and The Twilight Zone had one episode called To Serve Man. Oh, and let's not forget The Little Shop of Horrors and The Day of the Triffids...yummy people.

So...the story will be done when it's done, and I will not cut it short. Nor will I back down from the reality of Dirc really being a rapist and killer, and not caring about that. Same for his lover, Irin. Maybe it's a comment on how casual so many people in power are about the lives of women, so I'm showing how it can be with men. I dunno. That's just the way the story is going.

Life in the big city.

Doing better...

Like a good boy, I had a chef salad for dinner, with eggs and ham mixed into the lettuce, tomatoes, olives and cheese. And my blood sugar dropped to 140. So I pulled out another book I have for good food (for me) and will see if I can stick to the two of them. Some of the recipes look delicious, but all are time-consuming. I guess since I'm semi-retired I should have the time, now.

I finished getting the last things ready for the jobs over the next two weeks. Ordered packing materials. Checked with my assistant in LA and sent him the address. Got the address labels and collection notes. Now all I can do is hope it all comes together.

Of course, I'm flying at a time when air travel's taken a hit, confidence-wise. Nothing much I can do about that except make sure my will is up-to-date and see what happens. Of course, the MAGAt crew is blaming all three crashes on Biden and Democrats, ignoring their part in the mess. Meaning they won't do anything to correct the issues.

I have never loathed anyone, ever, as much as I loathe Felon47, Muskrat, and their handler, Putin. Three men I would love to hear were dead, tomorrow. Yes, JD Vance would take over the presidency, but he doesn't have the same ability to garner followers as that orange bastard. In fact, he's proven to be quite a cowardly little shit, so it would probably mean the beginning of the decline of the party.

Pouring my anger into The Beast Dines Out is helping me keep sane. One day I'm going to look back on this book...and it is a full-fledged novel, with well over 65K in wordage...and be amazed at how vicious I could be. How casually cruel.

I don't know if that is good or bad for me, as a writer. But it's that or crash and burn into despair over what's happening. And while it's nice the Democrats have actually started fighting back, I honestly fear it may be too little too late.

It's like being caught on the Titanic with the lifeboats gone and the tail of the ship upending. All you can do is ride it out and hope for the best.

Changing how I eat

I'm a sloppy eater. Way too many carbs, not enough veggies, lazy about what I make for meals. Half the time I'm nuking something. Like Amy's Enchiladas and Chile Relleno. But I also go for Stouffer's Fettuccini Alfredo and their meat loaf, neither of which is good for me.

Well, that laziness is catching up, thanks to having Type 2 diabetes. My blood sugar readings are increasing, and last night it shot up to 380 for a little while. Twice what it should be. And I don't know why, because I had red beans and rice, which is considered a safe food.

But...I also had Club Crackers and ice tea with a bit of sugar. Neither good for me. So I spoke with my doctor and either I change what I eat or I go on another medication to stop it. Shots done once a week to suppress my appetite.

That...I do not want.

Funny thing is, half the time when I eat, I'm not really hungry. I'm just comfort nibbling. Something to do as I try to figure out what it is I'm writing. I'll have some chips and salsa or guacamole. Club Crackers and cheese. Glass of DPZ to go with it. Then I eat between 5pm and 6pm because that's when I'm supposed to when half the time I could wait till 7 or 8.

It's childish, I know, and what makes it even funnier is The Beast Dines Out is about shipping men off to an extraterrestrial so they can go on the menu. Of course, feasting on them would be okay because they'd fall under the protein part of a meal plan.

I'm too much a creature of habit when it comes to eating. I'll fall back on preferred meals when I can't think of what I want for lunch or dinner. Things like tuna and Sandwich Spread (though I can also do a tuna salad with green apple, pickles and onions mixed with onion and Mayo or Yoghurt). Or a hot dog cut in half, set on a slice of bread, baked beans layered over it and a slice of Velveeta cheese on top, then baked. Very basic things that I grew up eating.

My mother didn't cook much; neither did my grandmother. I learned to make other meals so I'd get something more than the 6 dishes they knew, between them. None of which are really good for a diabetics.

Of course, I could also maintain better control of my portions. Sometimes my eyes are bigger than my stomach and I put more on my plate than I need...then have been programmed to eat everything on that plate, so get stuffed.

Oh, well...seems I may eat myself to death.

Need more tacos...

I need to make another trip to Taco Bell. Their soft tacos fulfill my every need for comfort food, and I'm so ready for some. I had one of my way-the-fuck-off-days, where I bounced against every wall I have in my apartment. Not in a manic way, just like a pinball slowly dinging from pillar to post before getting anywhere near the flipper.

Because I wound up writing this...

The feds are closing in on Dirc and Irin, in The Beast Dines Out, and....

“...We need to get out of the country...” Irin said.

“Do we?” AndI gave him my most innocent expression, all doe-eyed and shit.

Oh, he was way beyond exasperated, at that question. “Dirc, they’re closin’ in on us, and I do not want to go back to those fuckin’ rooms to get probed and fucked over and...”

“Me, neither, but once we start running we can’t stop.”

“So what d’you think we oughta do? Buy a house in the suburbs with a picket fence to hide behind, and make like a Fifties sitcom? Or else a penthouse suite overlookin’ Lake Tahoe and act like we’re free and clear?”

“I think we should take care of them before they find us.”

Now he looked at me as if I was crazy as fuck. “That’s the dumbest fuckin’ thing I’ve ever heard. We don’t even know how many of ‘em there are!”

“But we do know what four of ‘em look like. And I think Dr. Captain would make the Beast very happy...as would his buddies, and...”

“One of them’s female. Boss don’t want them.”

“She could just disappear.”

He hesitated, considering it. Because she’d done to him everything she’d done to me, and for that I’d happily rip her fucking head off. But he shook his head. “I-I-I can’t see that workin’. White woman vanishes, the media freaks out and it’s national news...and...and...”

“Okay, she’d dead and Dr. Captain killed her. Raped her. I can set that up. People’ll believe it.”

“But the other two...”

“I’ll provide them to the Beast, in front of dear doctor. Let him watch. Try and explain that.”

“Dirc, this is fuckin’ crazy! I can’t go along with it.”

“Then we kill ourselves.”

“WHAT?!

 “Ask the Beast for clones. Crash the car and burn them up.”

That actually made him stop and think. “...But that means we lose everything, again...”

“You got any better ideas?”

“You mean other than runnin’?”

I shrugged a yes...then a wild thought hit me. “What if they need us to be free and clear?”

“Need us...WHAT!?”

“Yeah. What if we get to be too important to them for them to do anything to us? Maybe even get 'em to bring us...offerings.”

He turned back to packing. “Now you’re fuckin’ with me...”

“No, no, think about it. Russia’s an asshole country fucking around with everybody. Bombing hospitals and schools and homes in cities everywhere. Messing with elections. And what does the world do in answer? Bullshit. Just wag their fingers and say something stupid like, That’s not nice. Why? Oil. They need Russia’s oil to be on the market to keep prices down.”

Irin rolled his eyes in exasperation. “Dirc, I think it has somethin’ to do with their nukes, too.”

“I know, I know, it’s just an example.” The idea was building in me and I was getting really excited about it. “Now look at China, all the shit they pull.”

“Again, a country, with nukes, not a couple of guys...”

“But I heard once that...that they’re got some kind of earth everybody needs to make cell phones and shit...”

That jolted him into actually thinking. “Oh, yeah...um...” It took him a moment, but he finally whipped out his cell phone and did some quick research. After some reading, he said, “Rare earth...but it’s not that rare; it’s just hard to get.”

“Okay...what about something like platinum? That’s worth more than gold and better and...”

“No, Dirc, that’s...that's crazy and it couldn't possibly work because we don't...we...that’s...oh, hold on...” He did some more digging on his phone, and after a moment he got a look on his face that told me my idea was bearing fruit. “Iridium,” whispered from him. “And Rhodium...and Palladium...not extremely high value but...but rare and...wait...”

He bolted from the room, calling, “George, you got anybody in precious metals?”

I scurried after him and heard George snarl, “Fuck no! Ain’t worth the fuckin’ trouble. Why?”

“Nothin’,” said Irin. “Just...just thought maybe I could get some platinum.”

“Stick with diamonds, Irin. Safer.”

Irin nodded then spun around and shoved me back into our room.

“George is an idiot,” he murmured. “Yeah, diamonds bring more immediate cash, but they don’t protect you. However...if we could work up a steady supply of rare earth minerals like rhodium and palladium and ruthenium, and we could keep it flowin’, you might be right. No one’d want to cut the supply. These things're used in electronics, cars, solar panels, space ships, all kinds of things. But I...I’ll need to talk to the Boss, first. See what he can do.”

“Have him check some asteroids. I hear they're rich in all that shit.”

Irin nodded, saying, “He'll still want to be supplied...”

I just shrugged, because I knew exactly who to send him, next--that fucking Dr. Captain.

--------------

I like to think of myself as a decent person who's capable of empathy...but there ain't none of that is this fucked up story. It's wall-to-wall Fuck you, and I wonder if this is really me, now? That Felon47 asshole has driven me into a complete Fuck it stage?

Feedback from North Street Competition

I'm posting this early because I want to get it off my chest and out of the way.

I submitted volume one of A Place of Safety to North Street's Winning Writers competition almost a year ago, and just received the feedback they promised. These are the judge's comments:

----------

A Place of Safety-Derry gave me much to enjoy. Along with the premise itself, one of my favorite aspects of the book was the prose style. The book was full of excellent lines, for example on page 90 (“The fog grew deeper and more consistent, so that looking at some of these buildings made me feel more like I was staring at ghosts rather than dwellings where couples had been married and borne children and lived their lives in silence, always hoping tomorrow would be better”) and on page 173 (“Politicians always think they can manipulate people like pieces on a chess board and maintain control of them, but it never works that way”).

The specificity of the imagery of these moments made me feel immersed in the narrative. Having read only one book by you so far, I'd still feel fairly confident guessing that language and tone are key strengths of yours as an author. Great work.

There were also some areas that I thought might signal an opportunity for craft development. For example, the rising action seemed to extend to the end of the book rather than coming to a climax. This made me disappointed when I finished reading. In our busy world, reading is a source of pleasure but also an investment of time and emotional energy. As a reader, I spend that time and energy in the hope and expectation that my reading will pay off with catharsis and then closure. Since no climax appeared, I felt let down.

When I give this kind of feedback, some authors have responded that it was their intention to have the rising action go to the end. Sometimes they're planning a sequel and imagine that readers will want to continue to follow the action right into the next book. That approach can backfire, though, as nearly all readers expect a climax and may lose trust in an author if the book they're reading doesn't have one. And books in a series still need their own climaxes, even if there's also an overarching plot for the series as a whole.

As for myself, I know I would have felt more rewarded by my reading if every event in the rising action, and in fact in each one of the six main narrative elements, had been building to a recognizable climax. That doesn’t mean you haven’t told a good story overall, or that I think people won’t enjoy your book! But given the competitiveness of the contest and genre category, I couldn't justify advancing the current edition to the next round this year.

-------------

So it was cut in the first round. While I appreciate their comments about my way with words, I can see it was a mistake to enter the book before it had been completed. The vast majority of writing competitions have a cookie-cutter attitude towards writing, and if it doesn't fit into the mold they want, it gets dumped.

To be honest, I don't know if the full book would have made a difference in the judge's reaction. New World For Old and Home Not Home are not sequels but continuations of Brendan's life. And I had to fight my tendency to that cookie-cutter mentality to keep his story true to him...and that meant no major catharsis. He's just finally able to live his life a bit more on his terms.

Tacos are medicinal...

Not the best of days, I must say. I'd long thought if I needed to leave the US I could go to Canada. Now that's not so sure. The only positive thing about that beast in the White House is he's a coward who backs down as soon as he's challenged by someone as strong as him. Tariffs against Canada and Mexico are on hold for 30 days...mainly because they slapped tariffs right back on our goods and Wall Street went into a dive.

I'm sure Felon47's rich backers told him to cut this shit out, now, now, now, before their portfolios became worthless. But he's still being a dick, while Muskrat's stealing the information of all Americans -- Social Security Numbers, payments, Medicare histories, everything the government has -- using a group of kids who look like they're still in high school.

I thought that was illegal, but Congress is only just beginning to say, Now you can't do that. Like what a scolding parent says to a child out of control. It's fucking insane, because gentle parenting never works when a brat's in meltdown.

On top of it, I had a dental appointment. Just a cleaning and x-rays, and checking out why a couple of teeth keep getting sore. Turns out one's a crown and my gum has receded a bit so crap is getting caught by it and I need to floss after every meal to make sure it is cleaned out. Perfect. I hate flossing.

So I filled my car's tank in advance of the spike in oil prices (already up more that $25 a barrel)...then went on a self-indulgent binge and got some unneeded groceries...and a teapot (for which I'll need to order a tea cozy)...and soft tacos at Taco Bell. It was those that pulled me back into a good mood.

Then when I got home, I found some recipes online to try out...including this one. That helped me handle a moment of worry at realizing the two jobs I have coming up would strain my credit card capabilities. But worked that out before I could spin off into panic mode.

Tacos really are the elixir of life...and so is anything pizza-ish. Guess I'm going out tomorrow to get these ingredients and fixing myself some comfort food to make me happier in this storm of chaos.

And I think I know how to end The Beast Dines Out...finally. And it ain't gonna be nice, but it will be fun. And then I'll get back onto something serious.

This is all I have to say...

 ...About the amazing stupidity of America for engaging in a trade war with Canada and Mexico...

God damn, we're led by morons...

Here come the censors...

Apparently, Oklahoma is leading the way in censoring books, now, by banning even the writing and the reading of them. See for yourselves. And notice the part where it allows anyone to file suit over this. Anyone!

In essence, Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet is in violation because they have sex when she is only 13 and he is 15 or 16...and don't tell me they're married. They do not have their parents' consent, nor that of the town's prince, so it's a sham marriage. Any school or theater that stages that play or shows Zeffirelli's film version will be open to a lawsuit.

Especially since Leonard Whiting and Olivia Hussey were underage when it was shot.

I have nothing to add to this, I'm so angry. Seems I may be in hot water if I ever go to that fucking state, again.

Celebration dinner...

It was snowing so instead of traveling 10 miles to Russell's Steak House on the other side of the airport, I went to an Outback that was only 4 miles away. And damn, it was good. The salad had some kind of blue cheese vinaigrette dressing with pecans, the 6oz filet and baked potato were perfect, and I even had cheesecake with chocolate sauce to finish my wine with.

I got so into it, I didn't think to take a photo before I began feasting...so this is how it was going. The DP was a prelude to the meal. 

Came out to nearly $70, including tip, which is about half what the other place would have cost, and I was purring like a kitten at the end of it. Only issue is, that one glass of wine made me sleepy. I don't have the tolerance I once had. Which is good, I guess.

It was still snowing when I came out, so drove home and took a nap. Still a bit sleepy. I may stay in bed all day, tomorrow. Just bring my laptop in and work on BDO, there.

Oh, I also got a haircut at a shop where this lovely Persian lad who goes by Q did a great job.

I think it's finally really sinking in just what I achieved with A Place of Safety. For me, even if to few others. I'd been working on the story for decades. Fighting over it with Brendan. Often thinking I couldn't get it done. Shouldn't get it done. And now it's over and I'm just...I don't know what I am.

I need to hermit for a while. Let my brain and body and spirit reconnect. Ignore the horrors growing everywhere, thanks to that beast in the White House and his demon spawn. 

It's done...

A Place of Safety is complete. I got a copy of the book with the glossy dust jacket and now it is ready...as you can see from the new banner I've posted on this blog. 

The last step will be setting it up in paperback, but that is in the future. Right now, I'm basking in the beauty of knowing I not only did what I said I would, for 2024, it was for a serious book about a devastating time in a young man's life, not something rooted in erotica and movie-style events.

I know without question anyone who was actually born and raised in Derry will have issues with the books, if they ever read them. I did my best to make each one as true as possible, but I've already had people from there say there's no way I can get the true flavor of being a Derry man or woman. Usually as they say they won't read it. And that's all right. What matters is, I stayed honest to Brendan and his story.

Now comes the fun part--trying to get reviews of the book on GoodReads and Amazon. Everything I've read about selling your book swears they are extremely important. But I wonder about that, after hearing from writers I know. People can be real assholes if they don't like you or your subject matter.

I've even got a stalker on Amazon giving my books one-star reviews. It's really funny. Not one word of explanation, just the negative rating. Almost like a silent There, I showed you. Talk about silly. Nasty reviews have been written about my work so many times, anonymous cowards mean nothing to me. 

So now it's finish BDO and then...we'll see...

Helps to be sneaky and sure

That's irin's process. The main thing he proves in BDO, chapter 19, is all that men are created venal. You just need to meet their price. As he says:

"If you want someone to fuck you over, pay them what they think they're worth. If you want them to fuck themselves over, pay them what they think you're worth."

And that's what he does with the diamonds he and Dirc receive from the Beast. They're Assher cut, real and near perfect...and 12 carat value, which puts them in the high six-figure range.

The boys are ensconced at a fine house in Carson City, NV. It's owned by an unsavory character named George, who dabbles in many quasi-legal things, including porn. When he realizes Dirc and Irin are in trouble, he arranges for some guys he knows to come and force them to have sex, on camera.

But Irin knows George and lets him sell the first diamond they're paid with. He also promises there will be more. So George shifts plans, completely...and instead of Irin and Dirc being made victims, the guys George brings in get used and sent to the Beast for its diner. Thus, more diamonds are provided and George is completely on their side.

A real diamond with few incursions (flaws) can be very valuable. A 12 carat Asscher cut diamond could cost anywhere from $100,000 to $1.5 million, depending on its cut, clarity, and color. These diamonds are typically more expensive than other diamonds of the same carat weight because of their rarity and the cutting process required to create them...so needless to say, George is happy to handle as many as my guys can bring him.

I'm up to nearly 50,000 words on this part of the story. With the 15K from the first part, that makes it a novel. Not even a month into 2025 and I've written another book. Granted, it's not exactly literature, or even on the same level as APoS...but it's something of an accomplishment.

I'll take those where I can get them...

Turmoil...

As I was working on The Beast Dines Out, today, I had a sudden attack of morality appear...and did not like it. I started making the next victim of Dirc and Irin deserving of his fate. To an extent. He's an asshole of an influencer on personal training and diet and very obnoxious about it...as if that excuses him being made into that night's special on the menu.

I almost made him a MAGAt piece of shit, and may yet...I dunno. This choice of offering to the Beast is turning out to be too deliberate to ignore the implications of it all. I think that's why I was getting nervous and trying to make it okay to deal with him, viciously.

And thinking about it, when Dirc went after the Cute Guard, it was when he was trapped in a lab-like setting being treated like a rat to run experiments on. Maybe my uncertainty started then.

But I've told myself I'm not going to do, in this story, what I was doing in Blood Angel...killing men who deserved death. That's not what really happens in life. Good people get hurt and die too soon while evil bastards live long lives. A reality only verified by the rare occasions where the opposite occurs.

For example, Jimmy Carter was as decent a man as they come, and he lived to be 100. While one of the worst J6 traitors who was pardoned by Felon47 got shot to death by a cop during a traffic stop, at the age of 42.

I wonder if I'm just approaching this moment incorrectly. Dirc's had a physical breakdown, now that he and Irin are safe. He'd been shoving forward using adrenaline to get them to that point and once it's reached, Irin is taking over, and Dirc's aches and pains and the intense weariness of doing it come crashing in for a day or two.

At this point in the story, he's the follower and not the leader of the two, which he has no problem with. But they've been equals in their relationship and that balance is off. Has been since they were both taken captive by the Area 51 crew.

I just need to find a way to regain it.

Am I writing stories...

...Or am I in a story that's being written about me writing stories? I ask this not as an existential question but because I've begun to wonder if I really exist, outside of the stories I write. My reasoning? I honestly cannot think of anything else to do.

Watch a DVD or movie? I dunno. What is there? I've only got a couple hundred to choose from, many of which I've already seen. And what sort of mood am I in? Noir? Comedy? Epic? I have both versions of Ben Hur so could compare them. I do love Dodsworth and Notorious and The Apartment and The Heiress, so could watch them, again. They are stories well-told.

Or...how about reading a book, instead? I only have 25 to choose from, and Adrian McKinty has a new Sean Duffy coming out. In hardcover. And I have a nice anthology of Edgar Allen Poe, which has some pieces I haven't read.

I should be getting my fresh copy of A Place of Safety-Home Not Home on Thursday, so that's something to keep in mind. 

But meanwhile, the only thing I consistently work on is a cheesy little SF/horror piece I'm posting for free on GayDemon. Working on chapter eighteen, right now, and see no end in sight for it. That's the only thing that gets me halfway excited...a story about two prolific serial killers who fall in love in a tale told with full amorality.

I sometimes wonder if I was a serial killer in a former life, and am condemned to this world where I'm unable to do anything like that even though deep within I want to. It's like I have the plans and thoughts and urges...but there's a lock on me that keeps me from following through. And that's why I write about them. That's my punishment for my previous existence. Look but don't touch.

There have been serial killers throughout history, but once upon a time there were so many wars going on the little bastards could satisfy their blood lust in acceptable ways. No no more. There may be Russians committing serial murders in Ukraine or Syria or the Central African Republic or even within Russia, but not with impunity, anymore. Even the Chinese, Israelis and Hamas have learned their slaughters are too easily found out and condemned.

At least, for now...

BookLife and Publishers Weekly

I got a copy of the January 20th Publishers Weekly, and on page 61 is the BookLife review of A Place of Safety-Home Not Home. It's a nice review, quite positive, but their grading system is on there and it's "Bs" for Cover, Typography, and Editing. I can accept that because they got an earlier file than that which is actually published.

I had it carefully edited before I published it, so I'm sure 95% of any issues they may have had with the book were handled. I'd sent them an earlier draft with the understanding it was undergoing editing, still, mainly because I wanted something to quote for the back cover of the book, and it takes them 5-6 weeks to get a review back to you.

I've had a couple of friends make reviews of my books, but I wish I knew how to get more people to review them on Amazon, B&N and Smashwords. I've tried just about everything I can think of--promotions, free copies, competitions--but nothing really seems to work.

For my MM erotica, I was in a group that did reviews on GoodReads, but even those were off and on. I've asked members of other groups I belong to if they'd read the three volumes of APoS and give me honest feedback, but they won't. Not even on a swapping reviews basis. All kinds of excuses. Hell, I can't even get family members to do it. My sister in San Diego and nieces refuse to read anything I've written.

I guess I could buy a review from Kirkus for HNH, but that last one was so wonky I'm leery of them.

I guess I'll just have to keep plugging along...

Forest or trees?

I didn't get to sleep till after 4am and slept till 11:30. Off and on. But somehow that helped me sort things out in my head for what to do. Especially after looking at the ridiculous flight schedules for Southwest Airlines and JetBlue. They are not working those things up for people to use.

So I'm leaving everything set up to fly home after LA. Then I'll fly to Chicago the next day. I finally reminded myself to keep it simple, and that worked out best, overall.

And I decided to get a car while I'm in Chicago. I'd been planning to do taxis and Uber, but I may need to head over to a UHaul to get some special-size boxes and want the flexibility. I also found a hotel that's about a 15 minute drive from the site instead of settling for one within walking distance. Costs $39 a night to park...but it's like that in every large city, now. Even the Motel 6 by LAX charges for parking.

I got notice that my bankruptcy hearing is at 10:30am in Buffalo, making it 7:30am in LA. It'll be middle of the week. I'm told it won't last more than a few minutes, while that packing site is only about 20 minutes from the hotel, so this is doable since I don't start there till 9am.

That freed me up, emotionally, to finish chapter 16 of The Beast Dines Out and post it. I'm not doing my usual rewriting on this because it's just rolling along. As of now, Dirc and Irin have escaped the lab, found ways to get to Las Vegas and rebuild enough money to feed and clothe themselves.

It helps that Dirc's already been through the Las Vegas type situation, once, and knows where to go to make things happen. But now the Beast has returned because it's found Dirc supplied it with the best supply of sustenance and wants to start the contract up, again.

This is where Irin comes in and negotiates a better deal, but with diamonds as payment instead of gold. Since he knows a guy in Carson City who'll handle them for the boys. And diamonds area LOT more valuable than gold.

So...forest is culled and I can see the trees, again. 

Regrouping

Have you ever wondered what the hell you're doing or where the hell you're going? I'm in one of those places, right now, which I hate. I get immobilized trying to figure out some path of action, not at all aware of which one would be best or worst or anything. Like I'm trapped in a cage, of sorts.

All of a sudden, I have back-to-back packing jobs the middle weeks of February, one in LA, one in Chicago, and I'm frozen trying to figure out the best way to handle them. Add a day to LA and fly to Chicago? Not sure what I'd do...especially with the fires still going and a large part of the city in ruins.

Come home to Buffalo then fly to Chicago? That means about a 24 hour turnaround between trips, but might be best. Even though I don't like how rushed it'd be.

At the same time, I have to work in a Zoom meeting about my bankruptcy, while I'm in LA. Only positive about that is it's on East Coast time so I can, hopefully, do it before I go into the job.

I'm still not happy that I'm doing that. I have too great a sense of responsibility for other things and people to just kick back and let it happen. And there's a lot of guilt involved, and not Catholic. Protestant...which can be much harsher.

It's said Protestants experience guilt when they don't fulfill their basic duties or experience shortcomings, and it may be more non-constructive or non-instructive than Catholics. That ol' Protestant work ethic. You are what you build or earn.

What's funny is, I got another first draft of a chapter for BDO done and it's ending with an idea expressed by Irin. If you want to fuck a guy over, pay him what he's worth. If you want him to fuck himself over, pay him what you're worth.

I have no idea where that came from or what it really means, but it fits my confused mindset at the moment.

Breather...

Chapter 16 of BDO turned out to be a lot of running up and down and fighting and sneaking around and climbing, until Dirc and Irin were in a safe enough place to relax. And reconnect in full.

No sex in this one, just the two of them floating in an underground pool, embracing and kissing and supporting each other.

They are heroes in this story. Doesn't matter how many men they helped to kill. I think I've built not only empathy for them both but respect and a connection. They love each other, fully and completely, and it's shining through.

When I wrote How to Rape a Straight Guy, I let Curt take me places I didn't know I could go. He was a wounded animal loose in the LA streets, and he ruined people's lives...and I put him in prison for it. I've gotten responses to him where readers acknowledge he did horrible things...but to their horror they still felt sorry for him.

That was the first time I thought maybe I could write a story about a monster and have the reader connect with them, emotionally. I've come close to doing it a couple other times...but there was always a reason for them to be as angry and destructive as they were. I also had a moral platform to lay their actions on, and a punishment for their transgressions.

I also made the victims of their actions deserving. Like in Hunter, where he gets started in the MM Slave Trade with guys from Mexico who've been hurting local people...before segueing into just taking random men...until he's slapped in the face with the consequences of what he's done. Then tries to make up for it.

Not this time. The closest I come to excusing Dirc's and Irin's actions is they were killed. Dirc was shot in the back by a cop, who was them made into a meal for the Beast. Irin's death was due to a fall during a scuffle with another cop, which happened around the time of Dirc's trial. They're brought back to life and from that point they are out to help the alien in its endeavors. Not so much out of gratitude but because it pays them in gold.

Now they've lost everything and don't know what to do. All they have is each other, a bit of super strength thanks to being reborn, and a need for revenge.

And I have no idea what will happen from this point.

Pulled here and there...

Got a lot going on, now. I'm handling a pickup of archives in the UK, which is no big deal except what I thought was happening is not completely correct. And the timing is a bit tighter. But it'll work out. No books involved, just paperwork.

Also did diagrams for another shipment going into containers, to see how many we'd need. And another job got quoted, though I don't think the gentleman will like the price. But it is what it is.

On top of this, I'm taking a class to present to the bankruptcy court to show I've learned to live within my means. I was put off by its claim that if you put $100 into a stock group you'd bet a 10.5% return, which it used consistently as if it's a given fact. Did you know that if you put $100 a week into that stock group for 30 years, you'd have a million dollars! If you included compound interest.

Funny, but i always thought those things had all kinds of fees in them to wipe out your accrued interest. And who the hell can afford to make that much in savings, these days?

The only time I invested in stocks was when I had a 401K at Heritage, and that was the only way they would contribute to my retirement fund. When the store downsized I closed it and paid the penalty, and lived off that and unemployment for 15 months as I tried to get work in film. Or sell a script. Something.

Didn't work. I did get some storyboarding jobs but that was it. I also made a little extra cash doing book packing, which led into working with Caladex. So it helped...

I then spent the evening getting Dirc and Irin out of that underground building, in BDO, and intensifying their connection with each other. This is the first chapter with no sexual encounter, at all. I need to go through it, again, and freshen it up a little. But overall I've just been doing a single real rewrite on each chapter before posting.

I'm living dangerously.

Fuck it...

As I'm writing the latest chapter of The Beast Dines Out, I find myself making it into a wild and crazy escape, where Dirc manages to find a way out of a room that's 2 miles underground.

Well...out of the room and into an emergency stairwell, with Irin in tow. Dirc is in loose pajama bottoms when they escape...but Irin is naked, so when they go through a kitchen he grabs some clean aprons and fixes them like a kilt around him.

Which works. Because as everyone knows, you don't wear anything under a kilt. And he's now got a sexy slit up each side to show off his legs to even better effect. Woohoo...very important in a story of MM erotica.

Reminds me of something that threw me off when I was watching Rob Roy, with Liam Neeson as the title character. Yeah, an Irishman playing a Scotsman, right.

Anyway, it was in a theater on a massive screen, and there is a moment when Rob's hands are bound and he's being dragged behind a horse...and he falls. And his kilt flies up. And you can clearly see...Liam's wearing white briefs! Oops...

Of course, I think he also had a pierced ear, but I'm not sure if I remember that right.

But...back to my story, which has become wild and crazy. It's coming out the lower regions of Area 51 may have been built down into a large cave, rather than having a space that far underground hollowed out. So if the guys can get out of the building, they might have a chance to get away. Or, at least, fight back...and have some fun...

But it amazes me how the story has circled around from the Beast having crash landed into a cave at the beginning of the story to Dirc and Irin using a cave to escape the Area 51 doctors and guards.

Here we go...

Felon#47 has already started hurting people. He's rescinded the executive order lowering drug costs, pardoned the J6 traitors, closed the Spanish language site at the White House, withdrawn us from the World Health Organization when we're on the cusp of another pandemic, renamed Denali and the Gulf of Mexico, and ordered US Passports to depict the birth identity of everyone.

Meaning Caitlyn Jenner is now back to being called Bruce. I hope they're happy. I don't remember if Jenner fully transitioned. I recall some discussion about it but blocked the backstabbing shithead from my mind. So if they haven't they might have to get rid of their tits in order to use a passport. If they have, tits may still have to go.

And this is as Muskrat is running around giving a Nazi salute of joy. Which the cowards on the right and even some Jewish groups are refusing to accept as a Nazi salute, but are giving him all sorts of excuses. Fucking pathetic.

Europe knows. Ukraine knows. And motherfucking Putin sure as hell knows. So does Xi. We're screwed.

I'm still cutting back on my social media involvement. I can barely handle Facebook, Xitter and Instagram, right now, so no way am I joining anywhere else. 

I hope to be done with The Beast Dines Out soon, before the Christo-fascists start shutting down the websites they dislike. I think I found a way for Dirc to get himself and Irin out of the Area 51 bunker they're held prisoner in. We'll see how it goes, tomorrow. Right now, he's being beaten for attacking the Cute Guard he had his eye on, and has realized the Beast has abandoned him.

It's growing even more amoral, this book...and it is now officially a book. Both parts add up to well over 50,000 words. I like that. I'm letting out a lot of anger and aggression with it. Between this and limiting my social media involvement, my blood pressure's gone down 12 points.

Good therapy, and cheap.

The end of time...

I found this on Quibbler – a conversation between @beeftony, @justplainsomething and @adrianestpierre that segued into a discussion about how it’s like Stockholm Syndrome, a made-up claim used to silence people who have the audacity to understand the reasoning some people have behind their criminal actions.

-------

Gaston really is the most terrifying Disney villain because he could be anyone in the world. Later he convinces the whole town to set up his wedding with the knowledge that the would-be bride would be thrown into it. Everyone finds his creepy tactics as cute and boys will be boys-esque. So yeah, he is terrifying.

Yeah, the truly scary thing about Beauty and the Beast isn't that Gaston exists, but that society loves him. People who deride the movie by saying it's about Stockholm Syndrome are ignoring that it's actually about the various ways that truly decent people get othered by society. People don't trust the Beast because of the way he looks, which only feeds his anger issues and pushes him further away. Gaston isn't the only one who criticizes Belle for being bookish, either; the whole town says there must be something wrong with her. And her father gets carted off to a mental asylum for being just a little eccentric.

Howard Ashman, who collaborated on the film's score and had a huge influence on the movie's story and themes, was a gay man who died of AIDS shortly after work on the film was completed. If you watch the film with that in mind, the message of it becomes clear.

Gaston demonstrates that bullies are rewarded and beloved by society as long as they possess a certain set of characteristics, while nice people who don't...are ostracized. The love story between Belle and the Beast is about them finding solace in each other after society rejects them both. 

Notice how the Beast reacts when the whole town comes for him. He's not angry, he's sad. He's tired. And he almost gives up because he has nothing to live for. But then he sees that Belle has come back for him, and suddenly he does.

In the original fairy tale, the Beast asks Belle to marry him every night, and the spell is broken when she accepts (like the Jean Cocteau version). In the Disney movie, he waits for her to love him, because he cannot love himself. That's how badly being ostracized from society and told that you're a monster all your life can fuck with your head and make you stop seeing yourself as human. 

Society rewards the bullies because we've been brought up to believe that their victims don't belong. That if someone doesn't fit in, then they have to be put in their place, or destroyed. And this movie demonstrates that this line of thinking is wrong. It's so much deeper than a standard be yourself message, and that's why it's one of my favorite Disney movies.

Also what really grinds my gears about people that bring up Stockholm syndrome is that it was literally made up to gaslight a woman who sympathized with some bank robbers. ...A woman who got kidnapped as a hostage (there were 4 hostages in a bank for 6 days) found out WHY they were robbing the bank and sympathized with them. Then when she said "hey, actually they're not that bad. They weren't trying to murder or grape or anything, they had a reason." 

Some "men" essentially said "poor stupid girl can't keep her hormones under control, she must love him. Poor thing." (Especially when she said she was more afraid of the incompetent police shooting her than the robbers.) Rather than actually listen to what she was saying they literally made up a whole syndrome to claim she was manipulated.

The former hostages said straight-out that they didn’t want to cooperate with the police afterwards because they were angry with the police’s actions during the robbery, then some dickhead psychologist who had never even interviewed them came up with the idea that they had actually refused to cooperate afterwards because they had “fallen in love” with their captors.

It's the exact same thing here. Rather than see how Belle ONLY started liking the Beast AFTER he started being kind to her and the fact that they built a friendship that eventually turned into romance people claim it was "poor stupid girl can't keep her hormones under control."

It's disgusting.

(And as a side note, we are entering a time when a Gaston-like "man" is in the White House sending people out to terrorize and destroy anyone not WASP like him.)

Chapter 14 is uploaded...

This one is really insane, for me. 2500 words where Dirc is put under intense examination that borders on rape, really. But since, officially speaking, he's dead...you can't rape a dead man, even if he is still alive. So he's bound and his clothes are cut off and he's probed and tested, like a lab rat.

I also finally explained that one of his clones was substituted for him when the Beast took him out of an unnamed observation room, earlier. But it doesn't have the brain capacity of him, so that's how the lab-techies know he's the real Warren Dircum.

And I've officially brought Area 51 into it, people who want Dirc to explain what's going on because they know he's got contact with an alien...and are alluding to using Irin as leverage to get him to talk.

This story keeps rattling on and I have no idea where it's going to end up, or when. It'll go until it's done.

I'm doing my best to ignore the hatred and cruelty being spit around by the MAGAt crowd. They laugh and lay blame for the fires in LA, crowing about God's judgment and all that shit, then calling democrats angry and unforgiving and mean when we spit back. It's ridiculous.

Let them kill the country. No one in power really seems to want to stop them. Democrats talk a lot but don't really fight. That's half the reason we're in this mess.

My one hope is that McDonald's will do its job and take out Felon#47. Of course, that means JD Vance of the 3 or 4 names will be come president, but he doesn't have the cult following of that orange beast so maybe it'll all fall apart.

One can dream.

Slogging along...

I uploaded chapter 13 of The Beast Dines Out to GayDemon and am now working on chapter 14. And it looks more and more like there will be a 15 and maybe even a 16 or 17. Depends on how Dirc gets out of his predicament.

 He's run headlong into people from Area 51 who are trying to figure out who and what the Beast is, and who know Dirc and Irin are connected to it, in some way. Irin's vanished and Dirc is fairly certain the lab techs have taken him, so lets himself get taken, as well.

Here's the bad part. The Area 51 people killed Irin's dogs, Alge and Anth, because they were protecting him. Learning that sets Dirc off and things are going to get nasty, especially since the Beast is ignoring Dirc's mental calls to him.

I have no idea where this story is going or how it will wind up. I'm plotting it as I go, and Dirc is having fun. There's lots of MM sex in it, both consensual and not, and the usual twists and turns. And by killing Irin's pup the Lab Techs have set themselves up for some serious John Wick time.

You don't kill the dog.

This may wind up being the start of a major smorgasbord of male dishes... 

Redone...

Got word from Ingram they've reset my cover to glossy so ordered a copy via rush service. I hope to get it quickly. I'm up for jury duty next week, and would like to get it on a day I don't have to go in.

In Buffalo, you don't report to the criminal courts till they want you. They send you a number and you call the night before to see if they've chosen it. If they have, you go in and, I think, join the pool to possibly sit on a jury. Very different from the last time I did jury duty. That was in Houston, and they had us come down and wait in a room till the end of the week.

Back then, I got called for a juvenile delinquency case that should have lasted half a day, but wrangling by the DDA and defense kept it up for 3 days. And while we had the feeling something had been going on with that kid, the DDA didn't prove their case and we found for the defense. Took half an hour to decide, on the first ballot. Then we sat around for another half hour so it wouldn't look like we'd rushed anything.

So long as I can have my laptop and phone with me, I'm fine. But I'm also taking a book, just in case.

It snowed all day with strong winds blowing it sideways. Kept it from building up too much. I had been thinking of going out to get some DPZ and such, but blew it off. It's expected to get above freezing, tomorrow, so I may do some running around, then.

I may not. I dunno. I'm pretty depressed. In 3 days that convicted felon will be sworn in to the presidency, and his scowling minions are already working at tearing down everything Democrats built up since Roosevelt, while billionaires salivate at paying even fewer taxes than they already do. Demons walk the earth, and they are MAGAts.

God only knows what will happen...

Shit, shit, shit...

I got my hardback copy of APoS-HNH today and for some amazingly stupid reason I cannot even begin to understand, I asked for the dust jacket to be matte instead of glossy. ARGH!

I mean, it looks good. But if I was going for matte I'd have brightened the face a bit more and let the background stand out better. But I want the books to be of a kind, and that ain't it. So fucking stupid. I really thought I'd been careful... 

But that's the story of my life. I always fuck up somehow in some way. No matter what I do or how well I think I'm doing it, even when I'm taking care with typing out a sentence, I'll leave out a letter or reverse two of them or misspell a word...and just noticed I spelled stupid as stulpid.

I need an assistant just to keep watch for my fuckups.

At least the interior is fine. Haven't found my next typo, yet.

I've corrected the setup and when it's finalized I'll get a new copy...which means it's not time to celebrate, yet. At this rate, it never will be.

I poured some of this anger into chapter 13 of The Beast Dines Out...and god, I hate that title. My biggest fuck up, there.