Acceptance: 'Teef'

My artwork, "Teef', has been accepted by Big Pulp for the cover of their summer issue.

This is a reprint, the careful stalker will note, as this one first appeared more than a year ago, as a story illustration in the now totally dead All Possible Worlds.

I love the whole concept of Big Pulp, from the title on down, and the editor has been great to work with, so it's cool to be part of it again (My story, "Hunted", was part of the Spring issue).

It should be live soonish.

Acceptance: "Beneath the Crook"

My poem, "Beneath the Crook", has been accepted by Goblin Fruit for the Summer or Fall issue.

It's my second time being invited to share in their awesome pulpy goodness. I feel all squishy.

Publication: "Hunted"

My short story, "Hunted", is now live at Big Pulp.

Take a bite.

Publication: "Change"

I found it online by accident, but hey, my story "Change" is now live.

Withdrawn: "Salvo 321"

Due to changes in terms, difficulty contacting the editor, and more, I had to withdraw my story, "Salvo 321", from Nanobison.

Publication: "Very Tale"

My poem, "Very Tale", is now live in the latest issue (3.4) of Tales of the Talisman.

Deadlines: Raven and Triangulation

For any other scribblers out there, remember the end of the month sees the deadlines for Raven Electrick and Triangulation.

Karen is the fine editor of Raven, and this year she threw us all off by having her sub period in March instead of Feb. But that gives you another chance if you thought you missed it. She takes flash and poetry.

Pete Butler is the editor at Triangulation. This year the theme is taking flight. Beyond that, roam where you will to get a story less than 5000 wrds.

Brush Up, Brush Down

My computer just lost my flippin brush settings. Again.

It lost them Monday too, and it took me hours to recreate them from scratch. Then it whips them out again first thing today.

Son of a...diddley.

It probably would have done a hat trick, except yesterday I was too busy throwing up to work. It was so disappointed.

Monday, it also shut itself down on bootup, complete with a timer countdown--much like a bomb would give you--and a grousy message about windows services.

I gave this thing two upgrades to stop it from acting grumpy, but no, it still wants to spew pea soup and try to give me one heart attack for every two minutes of use. Sigh.

I would just completely avoid it, or better yet, give it a send off with a hammer, but it's the only box with photoshop. I can't install stuff on my loaner laptop.

I tried telling it that it could be replaced, that oh I have seen the new Dell, and there is a Dell on sale, and that Dell is a cherry red sweet non-gloss screen laptop. But it only laughs, for it cherishes the end of itself and all things. Plus, it knows that $800 plus tax is not a sale that will matter in my 'do I have enough money for the new Angel comic?' world.

Gaming: Devil May Cry

Skip to the end for bigger giggles than I can give you....

Yes, since I cannot ever make you laugh as hard as him, I'm just going to give you some lame scattered personal observations, so this just isn't a link toss. Deal with it.

Begin skipping now.


I didn't play Dante when he came out. Capcom was like Nintendo, a word that, loosely translated, meant 'don't bother'.

(Much like, in later years, quanticdream meant 'brilliant ideas, terrible code'.)

But fanboys still mention the word Dante with such reverence. When I could grab DMC 1 and 2 used at EB Games, for fairly cheap, I went for it. I'm trying to build up my back cat, grabbing anything worthy, while it's still there for the ps2. Think of it like a close out sale where you're grabbing shirts you might stand to wear, just so you won't be shivering with naked later. As soon.

Anyway...

The first one was funny. In the wrong way. First came the bad 80s riffing guitar rock. Then the super cheese dialogue. This was dialogue that meant to be emotional, I think, but I swear, you can't hear the squeal of "....fill your soul with liiiiiiiiiighhhhhhhhhtttttttttt!" and not fall off your couch rolling and laughing until you choke on a dustball. Of course, everything that was the ick of capcom was there--bland design, endless unclear directives, frustrating wild sin curve difficulty, constant backtracking and recycling, etc. I was utterly baffled by the fanboys glee. It still helped me fill up a week, but it was capcom; it was mediocre, at kind best.

(Yes, I didn't rip on graphics, because, while looking pretty is sweet, you don't need to. Be a good game. If you can look pretty while doing, rock on. But good game first. Always.)

I couldn't help thinking this came out the same year as Prince of Persia, and that only made it seem worse. Not that I think any game since has been as good as PoP. Keep trying Ubisoft Montreal!

(Yes, PoP was good. And so very very pretty. FTW!)

Anyway, since I had DMC 2 already, I figured I could fill up another week. The second is better, in that your char can jump higher, the difficulty is smoother, and objectives aren't quite as obscure as Dennis Miller references. You have a more obvious linear path. Sometimes. Still, there are many times you have to curse and pause and leave to paw through a walkthrough, because the game gives you no flippin clue that you're doing the right thing. Or going the right way.

DMC2 also has a less ridiculous level of mouldy cheese, perhaps because, while still over the top, the vo wasn't quite as screeching bad soap. The bad guys didn't really have pontificating either, mostly, which helps. If you can only make them sound silly, make them silent. The guitar was present, but didn't riff as often.

I had fun with the jumping this time, except during pointless frustrating platforming. You know, jump from thing to thing, stepping stones, miss once and fall and do it all over. I hate that in every game ever. It never works. I think it's used to pad a game, as you spend six hours trying to cross a single room. You can't die when you fall as Dante, which is nice, but doesn't make it less annoying to constant repeat. DMC loves invisible stepping stones too. For the love of Peter Pumpkin! I have abandoned games because of jumping, and I'm a compulsive finisher. At least in PoP you had rewind to take the edge off.

I had a bug of a time trying to figure out how to make the second disc work. I switched in and out of disc 1 and 2 and read the manual and checked the web. I think it took me an hour to wonder and then accept that I had to start a new game to do it. Playing as your second char did give me some giggles, in that it was how capcom 'hid' its backtracking. Most of the levels as char two are the levels from char one (Dante), but done in reverse. Oooohhhh! Innovative!

I would never feel the need to play DMC again, which is good because I hear even fanboys say that 3 is bugs out the ying yang and not worth it. I admit, with no shame, that while playing I had dreams of jumping, and lots of green and red orbs. Not blue, but they're rare.


End skipping here

I bring up these few rambles because I hear things haven't changed with 4. Not at all. Anyone who has hopped around with the poof that is Dante should enjoy this: Zero Punctuation's Devil May Cry 4 Review.

Need a Hug

So having another rough bit--that wasn't helped by some hate mail first thing this morning--I tuned into Ellen's opener for a little pick me up. And she made me cry like the total sook I am.

How? She tells a story of these two guys in England, obviously years ago (seventies, by the video), who had a baby tiger. Now, you can't keep a tiger, and so folks made them give it over to a reserve. A year later, they decide to go visit the tiger. They are told not to, that it's pointless, and possibly dangerous, because the tiger won't remember them.

So then we get this, reunited.

If you didn't just tear up, you need to be poked with some claws.

Speaking of, I'm going to go find my little clawers. Family needs some hugs...

Added: Yes, I know it looks like a lion. I thought it was lion; Ellen said tiger. I reported her story, not zoology expertise. The important thing is: kitty!

Proof #7,986,863 of Supreme Awesome Spousal Unit: Hot Fuzz

I was given, as my own personal present, the three disc collector's edition of Hot Fuzz.

Yes, *three* (3!).

I'm an official Pegghead.

I was even in glee that it flips open up, after I figured it out. The inner box is styled as a Sanford police badge.

No notebook or ketchup included.

Among its features was the trailer for Run Fatboy Run, which is an awful title. But a sweet one, once you see the trailer.

(I admit, it's kind of weird to see him without Frost. But I think they can handle it. What with the separation anxiety...)

Tales of Moreauvia

My subscription to Tales of Moreauvia is now official.

I considered asking for a massive discount because of the Canadian dollar, but then there are the Canadian postage rates, so...;)

Moreauvia is a new alternative history magazine, brought to you by the fine people at Creative Guy Publishing (CGP).

We are so expecting it to rock.

Rubber, Heal Thyself

So, my techtv says Rubber Made of Urine Can Heal Itself.

Which is cool. Except: urea is not urine, people. That's like saying iron is blood, or carbon is bone. The chemical is just a chemical.

Medical Update

For the past few months I have been in and out of the ER, the hospital, and various clinics.

Still, I've spent most of the time in my bed, which is better. I have Hissy to protect my feet, a job she takes VERY seriously. She's not sure what is attacking me, but she's decided her role in family is to stay touching a foot at all times, ready to scream a strident lecture at anything that dares get too close. She includes the Spousal Unit in anything.

Speaking of felines, I had another cat scan last week. This is a test I don't mind because, other than feeling weirdly warm when they run the scan, it's non-scary and painless. They didn't make me drink barium this time, thank all, so the worst of it was just wearing a shower cap and getting velcro'ed down for a spin in the doughnut. Yee-haw!

I saw The Specialist again today. This was rather more grim. He doesn't believe treatment is working, and he's dismissed the other chemical treatments. The side effects of line B can include massive risk of stroke, which, granted, kind of makes option Bs not really so much an option.

What he wanted to do is surgery. Not fix it surgery, but let's rip a hole and insert a camera in your guts and rummage around and see if something is waving around a big sign that says 'Help Me!'

That seemed more stupid and pathetic than option B to me.

So, since I'm The Decider and I decide, we're staying the course.

Yes, I've been watching the Daily Show streaming, and I am grabbing my lame humour wherever it is limping. Laughing is, as always, the only thing left to do.

I feel like the ultimate Pollyanna, which is so profoundly weird. Because I, my friends, am the anti-Pollyanna. Sweet all, you know things have gone a little ka-ka when *I'm* the voice of shining hope.

I guess we'll see if it's deluded hope...

Acceptance: 'Hunted'

My short story, "Hunted", has been accepted by Big Pulp.

No contract or payment yet, but it's been posted on the site that it's slotted to appear April 21st.

Lego Makes Everything Better

There is nothing that cannot have its awesomeness increased with Lego.

You doubt?

I give you:

Lego Indy

and

Lego GTA

Reviewed: Reanimator

I've been reviewed at the Archive for my recordings of Lovecraft's Reanimator serial. I'm creepy and five stars.

Sweet.

The serial is coming up on two thousand downloads so far, and yes, I went into it happy if just one person enjoyed it, so we're golden.

Remember, my recordings are free, so go on, take one. Take two. Or six.

And yes, I once said I wouldn't be that crazy again, but I *do* plan to do more Lovecraft. I can't help it. Me and Jeffrey Combs, we're just powerless to resist.

It may take some doing though, to figure my mic setup so I can do it from bed, but I am nothing if not stubborn. Hey, it's what's got me this far...

Mostly Dead

...is slightly alive.

Dollars To Doughnuts

It's awesome, seeing the Canadian dollar worth more than a dollar USD. Really, it is. Gives a weird sense of pride, and annoyance, when you see businesses crabbing because they base their interests on the USD and need the CAN to do badly to make money. Not to mention the ones who wail about tourists.

*What* tourists?

What's really annoying though is seeing prices 45% higher than they should be. I don't know why it's bothering me now, why 45 is so much worse than 35. I think it's that we didn't realise our prices were still based on our dollar being worth 60 cents, since our currency hadn't been anywhere near there in years and years. We saw it on books, but publishers were always screwing everybody, and they were nasty and unrepentant about it. So books were crazy, but we thought the rest were fair. Prices kept going up, as prices always do. We knew things were too expensive, sure, but I don't think we knew we were getting this hosed and why.

Stores are refusing to lower their prices, citing buying stock a year in advance. That, of course, would forgive them ten percent, which would still make them all corrupt as muck. Aren't we shocked.

But they keep squawking at the betrayal, how dare people shop across the border, just because the prices are nearly half?

The economists are saying prices are set by what we'll pay for them, so the only way it changes is when we refuse to buy. A neat theory for luxuries, but what about food?

The supermarkets are saying they can't compete with Wal-mart, now that they've gotten in with groceries.

I find it very interesting, how everyone thinks they're being cheated.

Interesting, and expensive.

Bumblebee in Paper

My geek heart (and my green heart) is in gushing tender awe of what this guy can do with compost.

A Hole in Technology

The other night, I was watching a tech show on the tech channel...

Wait, that's not true. I only get the tech channel to watch Reviews on the Run, and that was what I was watching, but I got distracted at the end and another show was allowed to load up, one I would never voluntarily watch.

Anyway, my point is that I glanced up and discovered that on said tech show they were punching a hole through a digital SLR camera. I was horrified. Then I realised what they were doing, and cringed worse.

They were *making a pinhole camera*.

Now, the tech channel is for current tech. I won't say cutting edge, because who wants cutting edge, you want the tech after the kinks are out and the price is down. This would not have been current tech unless you were watching the show on a magic lantern. Still, that wasn't what made me cringe.

For those of you who are not photo geeks, I should mention that SLRs are considered top of the line cameras. Or at least as top of the line as anyone who is not Freeman Patterson could ever hope to touch.

And here's the thing, I've never even seen one, except on tv. Because they are thousands of dollars, and I don't know anyone that rich.

So watching someone rip apart and drive an awl through something, something rare, something most people can't have or even imagine touching was, yea, pretty irritating.

*Especially* knowing the traditional way to make a pinhole camera is with a cardboard box.

Publication: The Monkey's Eye

If you're in the mood to croon a sea shanty, bob on over to Goblin Fruit, where my poem, The Monkey's Eye, is now live.

Things To Have On Hand During A Severe Prolonged Medical Crisis

* Flickering images.

Movies and shows have always been treasured as a story form, but they're more. They're company. They're comfort. They're a tiny itty bitty distraction. They help fill time, horrible time, when you don't know how to get through the agony of the next hour, let alone the day. Woe be they who didn't have dvd box sets.

* A computer and the net

Sure, you need them all the time. But the active and passive levels of interactivity are more sweet than ever. Especially with a dvd player and / or lots of streaming content.

* Cash. Buckets and Buckets of it.

Sure you can't work, but more importantly you need medications to, you know, not die. Or die with less screaming. Blue Cross will refuse to play for any of it, because, obviously, they are not the ones dying, and, come on, there's no profit in your survival. It's much cheaper for them if you just hurry up and shuffle off the mortal coil.

I paid for the damn insurance, but the prescription meds they refuse to cover now cost more _per month_ than was my income _for an entire year_.

And before you feel bad for them, please remember I'm a writer and artist. In the small press. My yearly income is less money than one of their employees would bother to pick up off the ground. Or a desk. My point is, it's so nothing to them, but it's quite dear to me.

* A good pharmacist.

You will spend so much more time than you ever wanted with medical people of all sorts, and you can't pick most of them. You have choice in your pharm though, and use it. Mine is brilliant, informed, sympathetic, free and patient with her time, and remembers my name and prescriptions without checking the computer. I rather think she could have been a great doctor, but I'm glad to have her in any form.

* Someone who will do laundry, and dishes, and convince you to eat things. Things they have to cook, because you are too weak to even pick up a fork.

You care, vaguely, now and then, that the house looks and smells like a dumpster, but doing something about it is beyond you. You don't even have the strength to shower, and the effort to brush your hair makes you shake and ache and cry.

* Someone who can see you pretty much constantly coated in snot, tears, blood, and vomit, and still hug you fiercely, and insist they love you.

Making a half-assed attempt at cleaning, and a good attempt at cooking, have been awesome, sure, but, even exhausted with worry, I think my Spousal Unit has really shone in those hugging and support skills. I have a better partner than I deserve, and I know it. I am extra damned grateful for that.

Die Spam Die!

That's it.

The phone rings one more time, and I'm gathering them all up and tossing them in the ocean.

My phone has been ringing *every ten minutes* for weeks now. It wakes me up, whenever I try to sleep. It drives me rabidly feverishly I need a machete and I need it now insane.

I can't understand it. If I called a person every ten minutes, I'd be in prison for harassment. But if I go and call myself an 'Inc', I can do anything and no one will stop me.

Worse, almost all of these harassing calls have come from the same place. I don't wish to give them happy attention, so I'll go with what they rhyme with, shitty bank. Now WHY the S bank is so immoral and lacking in basic reasoning is unknown, and how it could ever be a smart business plan to pay someone to call me every ten minutes and offer me a credit card and a survey is beyond what even the gods could know.

I do know they ignore their own Do Not Call list.

And I know if any of getting what you deserve falls true, their employees are dropping in droves from body rot.