Original Publication Date: 10/11/07
While also working on the new book, a friend and fellow writer who I went to University with and I are trying our hand at writing a screenplay. He’s already finished his own first one and I assisted with some editing, so I’m confident we’ll at least finish the first draft of this one. Whether or not it’ll be any good remains to be seen…or…you know…read. The psychic is confident it will be.
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This is going to be a tough one to write and possibly equally tough for you to read. I don’t offer any excuses, but I will set the scene for you so that you have a better understanding–or at least as much of one as possible–as to what happened. My general week has me working outside home 3 days, 1 of which I spend the evening with both parents after work is finished. The other 4 days are spent with dad in order to give mom a break. This essentially leaves two evenings open to get anything done that I urgently need to do or places to go where I can’t take dad. It leaves me feeling a bit stretched thin and it shows from time to time as was evidenced this past weekend.
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It took me the better part of the weekend between getting the place ready for my mother-in-law’s impending visit, taking dad for drives and then not grinding my teeth because of allowing the behavior attributed to Alzheimer’s to get the better of me–and I didn’t win many of those battles the last three days–but I finally finished watching Richard Rush’s 1981 film, The Stunt Man. I also finally recorded my first video blog only to discover that the editing program I bought doesn’t edit MP4s. This may just entail a trip to Best Buy tomorrow to buy a Flip Cam. $hit. But, back to The Stunt Man…
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Original Publication Date: 9/17/07
Ever feel like you have a price on your head?
If so, you may have Han Solo Syndrome.
Ever feel like the galaxy isn’t large enough to hide your sorry ass?
If so, you may still very well have Han Solo Syndrome.
Ever watch the preview for Alien 3 and when the announcer states “This Summer, The Bitch Is Back! & think he’s talking about your partner’s extended relative?”
If so, you DON’T have Han Solo Syndrome.
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Acerbic. I like that word. I like the way it rolls off the tongue and it’s not something you’d hear a drag queen say. It’s like a personal little word that few people ever use. I’m slightly acerbic when I’m not generally cranky or annoyed. The funny thing is that some folks have a difficult time telling what mood I’m in. I don’t always translate well to the cyber or social media world. In person? Oh, hell to the yea. One look generally says it all. But I don’t often vent. Not really. That’s what blog posts are for! I’m free to vent here. Why? Let’s face it, I’m hardly known in the literary world. Well, not yet. heh heh heh So, let me tell you about what’s really pissing me off at the moment.
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I started this morning off popping in an old unmarked VHS tape I recently came across that turned out to be episodes of VH1 Bands Reunited. Does anybody else think host Aamer Haleem comes across as a complete tool? Seriously, the guy’s a tool on the show. Anyway, beyond that, I did a book signing in Milwaukee for Gaylias: Operation Thunderspell this past weekend and you won’t believe how the trip started even before I left Detroit. Leave it to TSA…
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Original Publication Date: 9/05/07
A group of friends and I suffered a loss last week. His name was Roger Reinsmith and he was only 46. To those of you in your 20s reading this, it sounds old. To those of us in our 30s, it’s not. I knew Roger socially through a number of acquaintances over the past 12 years. From what people have shared, he was somewhat tight-lipped about his formative years and tended to be rather detached or unemotional when discussing his family. From what I know myself, Roger never thought twice about offering his home to host a party (with his dogs’ permission of course), attended every group function he could and supported everybody’s efforts, my book signings included. He had a somewhat dry–yet wicked–sense of humor that came out to play the better he knew you. When he was on his game, you laughed, and he was on his game more often than not. Your happiness was his. He also loved funny hats and even painted, things I wasn’t aware of.
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My eye started twitching over the weekend. I’m not sure if it’s because work had been a bit stressful, because I had to break a personal rule and go to Wal-Mart to buy the latest Def Leppard, because my guy was moving rather far away for work, because my father had started telling me yet again that God doesn’t like gays or because he went home and told my mother he wanted to go to church and talk to the person in charge in hopes that they could help me because I was gay. Really, it could be anything. Anything at all.
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Last week was one of those rare times when my guy was home for a whole 9 days in a row. It just doesn’t happen very often and I do miss those stretches. Not at first, but only because he’s used to staying up until midnight–two hours past my bedtime–and he’s somewhat accident prone. Bumping into doors, not being able to find his way around in the dark, walking into things and knocking them over whilst I pretend to sleep; his world, welcome to it. Then, after he would come to bed, he’d snuggle up to me and my internal engine would go into meltdown status. He froze. I fried. Anybody else have this issue with their partners?
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Original Publication Date: 8/17/07
It was the call no child ever wants to receive from his or her parent(s). Everything had been fine. They looked happy. They were healthy. They ought to be considering all the organic food they buy these days and how careful they are about they aren’t putting into their bodies. My mother’s birthday was fast approaching as was their 38th wedding anniversary. It was all going so well. And then the call came.
“We’re not getting any sound on the new DVD/VHS Recorder you bought us.”
Shit.
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