Still in a bad place...

Jesus, they say time heals all wounds, but it's been nearly 40 years since fucking Doug...whom I never did get to fuck. But he made damn sure it worked the other way around. Times ten. Nearly 40 years...and memory of him came screaming out of nowhere.

He was the asshole who finally showed me I was unworthy of love or...or anything. I was just there to be used. And I've internalized that so much, it's part of my DNA. My only outlet is the books I write.

I've been celibate since June 1984...for a lot of reasons...but seeing what was happening to friends and guys I knew...in Austin and San Antonio and Houston...that sealed it. As did still being scarred by Doug's bullshit.

Good thing is, I'm at home. No explanations needed. No justifications or anything. I can mope as much as I want. Growl. Remember...

I'm trying to cleanse myself by focusing on costing out a potential job, making a pot roast to feast upon, and watching an old movie.

Diva. 1982. I saw it at an advanced screening in Austin, when I was at UT. Exquisite. Wilhelminia Wiggins Fernandez couldn't act worth a damn, on film, but oh God how she could sing...and the visuals...

Maybe I'll rewatch Gone With the Wind, tomorrow. Best movie ever made in Hollywood, bar none. That's taken me back to my comfort zone, in the past. I know it has issues, but what film doesn't?

FWIW, the pot roast turned out good...and did help, some...

Schizo-Kyle...

Crashed into one of my black moods...and stumbling onto these boys dancing to this song brought it on. Especially those fucking lyrics.

They look like a guy I was involved with in the 70s. Called himself Demian but his real name was Doug. And he was an asshole. Took money from me. Ran my credit cards up. Then shrugged me off. I had a decent job but I was in my early 20s and barely out of the closet, so it left me messed up, emotionally and financially.

However...for about 2 months I was so deeply in love I thought I'd die. Instead, he did. AIDs. And I fucking mourned him, like a masochistic idiot.

I get the impression these lads are much nicer...but you never know. Not really.

Son-of-a-bitch...I think I need to start drinking...

Re-focusing, sort of...

Okay...I'm self-indulgent. I whimpered and whined through yesterday, then today felt better. Did 5 loads of laundry and made spaghetti with meat sauce and figured out half the reason for my headache, yesterday, was how I'm cutting back on how much I eat. My body didn't like it.

I've always had a tendency to get headaches if I'm not eating enough, and I got a pointed reminder. So...light breakfast, spaghetti for lunch, Triskets with cream cheese and Pickapeppa for an afternoon snack, then Amy's enchiladas for dinner, and a small bowl of oatmeal for evening snack...and I'm verging on another headache. I just need to get more active to counter this caloric intake.

I'm going out, tomorrow, to mail the last copies of APoS and grab some groceries, then I'll come home and make a pot roast. Slow cooked in a crock pot. There's a special I'm taking advantage of at Tops, a local grocery store. They're very 1970's in decor and offerings, but they're also convenient.

I managed to work up another chapter of BDO and have no idea where I am in the story, anymore. I'm just along for the ride. Dirc has escaped the Feds, again, and now has four hostages, three of them soldiers, to use for negotiations. I didn't see that coming. The boy's got street smarts...

He's saved Lon from Helga's clutches, reconnected with Irin, and decided he needs to get some clarification from the Beast as to what is and is not happening, from this point. God only knows how many times I've contradicted myself in this story, but it's rolling along and when it's happening on the page I don't want to stop it.

However, it did take me a while to get into this chapter. What I initially wrote was boring. Now it's not...I hope. You never really know. But Dirc came up with a stunt at the beginning, during his escape, that actually got me out of bed to write. I just hope it makes sense....it may be too visual to really work...

Doesn't matter; Lon's now part of the pack and they've realized two of their hostages are a gay couple, so they don't want to hurt them. It'll work out.

Getting done sucks...

This was not one of my better days. Slept till almost noon and felt nice...for about an hour. Since then I've been slipping into a sadness I cannot seem to shake, and that's led to a near headache that is only now beginning to drift away.

Part of this is probably due to the evil being perpetrated by DOGE and Felon47 in Washington, about which I can do little. At least the Civil Service unions are fighting back, now, and people are furious. I was afraid we'd be sleepwalking into a dictatorship, like they did in Germany in 1933. 

Took Hitler 6 weeks to consolidate complete control of the government and start going after people he knew the Germans hated. Communists. Socialists. Unions. Gays. Gypsies. And then the Jews.

This is the reason I filed bankruptcy. I don't want debt hanging over me if I wind up being denied Social Security, which is not out of the realm of possibility. I've been very vocal on Xitter, Instagram, Tumblr and Facebook about how much I despise Muskrat and Felon47. Hell, I won't even type or say that bastard's name. And they are vindictive scum.

But today...mixed in is also a certain aimlessness. An uncertainty about what to do, next. I could bounce away from working on APoS while I was writing it because I always came back to it. But now? Nothing to come back to.

Do I try and find ways to publicize the book? Get it into libraries? See if book stores will carry it on consignment? It's not exactly a best-seller. Which is understandable. The books are $32.50 each, and I'm not a known author. I can't price them for less because then I'd lose money on them, after printing, distribution costs, and Amazon and B&N's cut just for offering it in their catalogues.

Part of me is glad it's available, and the ebook is only $2.99 so I could emphasize that. I just wish I had the ability to figure out how to sell it so people would want to read Brendan's story...

Almost back to my form of normal...

Got my hardback copies of APoS-HNH and sent them out to people who'd asked for a signed one. Also sent one to the Library of Congress to fulfill the LCCN requirements. I've got one left to go to the UK but I don't have a box for it, yet. I'll see what I can do about that.

But...and this is a big one...this marks the real, honest, official end of writing and publishing A Place of Safety. The most definite ending. I don't consider working up a paperback edition of the books as a continuation of the process. That's more graphics work and layout rearranging.

I do think I'd like to get feedback from people on typos so I can correct them for the paperback. And I may check around to see if there's someone similar to Ingram Spark who'll do them as a box set with a slipcase, since those guys won't. That would be perfect.

So I dropped off my expenses and invoices to the office, and nothing is on the schedule till me overseeing an archive repack and pickup in the UK. I won't be going, just working with a man who's helped me on other jobs, there. Like the humor library in Reading going to a university in Italy. And packing glass photographic plates to ship to the US from Swindon.

I'm trying to remember when it was I went to Stonehenge and stopped off at Old Sarum, just outside Salisbury. Used that to help me with finalizing David Martin, the fable I wrote that's too old for kids but too young for adults. Another book I poured a lot of money into and went nowhere.

I'd like to go back, but so much has changed, since then. The whole feeling of the world is looser and angrier and more difficult. Next time I go to the UK, I'll need a visa. Same for Ireland, since it's part of the EU. That is, unless I go before the end of June, when the new deal is supposed to take effect. But don't see that happening.

It saddens me, all of the bullshit being slung about. Change for no good reason except some assholes feel the need to prove they've got control...and are only showing how fucking incompetent they are.

Listen to your gut...

I’m back from my jobs in LA and Chicago, and I am exhausted. LA was lovely but a lot of work, while Chicago was fucking COLD. -14 one night, and I was dumb enough to go out in that to get milk at that grocery store. I was locked in my Gotta have some hot tea mode. I was nearly frozen by the time I got there. I spent an hour warming up enough to make the 2 block walk back.

And did not do it, again.

I also did not rent a car in Chicago. I'd planned to and priced for it, but I was in an I don't want the stress mood so canceled it and did a taxi to the hotel and Uber back and forth to the site. Which wound up being more than $100 cheaper, overall, once you factor in parking, gas and possible tolls. And no stress from trying to make sure I follow Google Map's less than perfect directions.

What’s interesting is, while the boxes were being collected by a crating company, yesterday morning, I got a message my JetBlue flight from Chicago O’Hare Airport to New York City’s JFK, that evening, was delayed by half an hour. Meaning I'd have only 10 minutes to get off the plane and to my connecting flight, to Buffalo.

I was in no mood for that, so I checked with Southwest Airlines, found they actually DO have a direct flight from Midway Airport to Buffalo; they just weren't offering it with the trip I'd planned. Bastards.

Well...I had enough points to get it for nothing. Meaning I canceled the JetBlue and took the Southwest. Got in 3 hours earlier than I would have on the original connecting flight, and have the full air fare in my travel funds for future use.

But the best part? That flight's "half-hour delay" wound up extending to overnight. If I’d stuck with the JetBlue, I’d have been stranded at O’Hare until the next morning. Already beaten to hell by the two jobs.

I’m glad I was in my fuck-it mood.

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.