A Word on Carlos Hernandez's "The Last Generation To Die"

(...and, of course, being me, I'll go over my word limit...)

Work: novella

Genre: spec-fic, leans lightly toward sci-fi

Sum Up: off and on, but has enough tart twist that I'll definitely try another bite of Hernandez

The story premise--the government forcing an individual to stay alive--is so tired pathetic cliché that you can actually find it on grim compiled lists of old feeble clichés. Really. Go on. Google it, you fool. Those lists make fun reading.

What makes this different is the sometimes sharp turns of phrase the increasingly less impassive narrator yields. I might even read a whiny-farmboy-saves-the-universe-from-the-One-Great-Evil story, if it was told like this. Okay, maybe not. I'd need a LOT more snark to make that palatable, but still. The tone is the advantage here.

The ending let me down, I'll admit. Not so much for how it plays, although it *is* rather tidy-neat, and I get terrible rashes from tidy-neat, but more from the...icky cutesiness. This flopped way over a line for me, flipping me out of the story, straining my back.

But, you can forgive nearly anything for granny chic. Oh, yes you can. That sequence is so sweetly bizarre and appalling that it will be with you like acid reflux, suddenly appearing in the throat of your mind by surprise, never quite going away.

Here, have some chalky white stuff. That might help.

("The Last Generation To Die" by Carlos Hernandez is available in AHOP 2 and also as stand-alone ebook.)

This has been a Vicious Circle Review.

This Too Solid Flesh Will Melt

It's been raining here for months.

Actually, since about April, by rough under-estimate, I'd say it's been raining 75% of the time. I think the capricious gods have made this a monsoon area. It's been a nasty year everywhere; mother nature has really caught up on bitchslapping the world. If you didn't believe she wanted us off her planet *before*...

The rain has been nasty, and I'd feel like a petty wuss complaining about it, even with my asthma, allergies, etc except: my house is dissolving.

And it's not a sugar house.

It's a new house. It was built two years ago, and the past two weeks my workroom has had the smell of rot. Not a tad. But like a herd of at least thirty wet dogs were in here romping. And perhaps they are zombie dogs.

This has put a real dent in my output. The endless game of what is that *smell*? And as floors were scrubbed and chairs and shelves removed, no amount of spousal denial could escape it: it's the walls.

My house is small, but as large as I could possibly afford. The contactors randomly changed things to the plans without consulting me, things they couldn't / wouldn't fix. They killed my linen closet by expanding the furnace room. They put a hanging light fixture over a few feet the wrong way, so it's not only NOT over the table, but hanging in a perfect place to brain yourself on a regular basis. They redesigned my kitchen cupboards, after I had approved the plans, surprising us with--oh lovely!--smaller useless cabinets and taking away all silverware drawers. They stole my self-purchased adjustable multisetting showerhead and instead installed a static one-setting cheap piece of carp.

Just a few examples.

We had to endlessly chase and bitch and scream to get them to even finish the place, and in the end we had to do most of detail work ourselves.

I, personally, held to (and still hold to) we should have just built the place ourselves. Because the 'professionals' are anything but.

But, despite all the anguish, I love my house. I wouldn't let them paint the walls, because they would only allow me white. So I have wonderful lush colour on my walls (my kitchen / living room, for example is caramel butterscotch), and the land may have been raped by clearcutting, and won't recover in my lifetime, but now that I'm here, nobody will touch it again. Even my will says so. So it's green and quiet, and will stay that way.

I can't think of why else I love it, or even like it. Because, right now, I hate it. I hate everything. I mean, it's ROTTING, and how the hell can I afford to fix that? Because you just know the warranty won't cover anything that actually goes wrong. We'll prolly have to bulldoze the place and salt the earth.

If only they had left enough trees here for me to go off and live in the woods.

Or maybe I just need to put my fist through some walls and go sob for a while.

Ah, the Innocence of Childhood...

Although I think mine might have stung far worse than this, you have to admit Attia truly complains with memorable style.

Warning: Not for the squeamish. Or those with bread in their pockets.

Knit This

Like a backwards fool, I have been making things like socks, blankets, slippers, mitts...and I could have been really making a difference by making DNA.

I hear the pattern is one long complicated bitch though.

Rosa's Seat

"Our mistreatment was just not right, and I was tired of it."

"I have learned over the years that when one's mind is made up, this diminishes fear; knowing what must be done does away with fear."

--Rosa Lee Parks (February 4, 1913 – October 24, 2005)

No, she wasn't the first to stand up, by not standing up, but an outcome doesn't make the act any less. You're a hero everytime you choose the right thing, especially over the smart thing, or the easy thing. Forget how it plays out, it's the fight that counts.

And I suppose it fits here that I wish Gerry a safe and hopeful trip to Bayou La Batre, AL. Maybe one person can't rebuild the world, but I reckon we can all gorram well try.

I tried to resist, but I have to do it, I have to:

"Nothing in the world is the way it ought to be. It's harsh, and cruel. But that's why there's us. Champions. Doesn't matter where we come from, what we've done, or suffered, or even if we make a difference. We live as though the world was as it should be, to show it what it can be."

-Angel, on what it means to do the right thing, from Angel S4E1 "Deep Down"

Oh Crap

Serenity hasn't even made back half it's budget. :(

Of course, this isn't really unexpected. Universal was convinced that it had no chance in the theatres, and so they didn't even release it in all major cities *roll eyes here* Plus, the tv trailer wasn't near as jaw dropping amazing and addictive as the net one, so...Sigh.

They threw all their eggs on the glory of DVD sales. But I don't think there're enough hardcore fans to give them the numbers they want, and it was unfair to limit such a great story to fringe forgotten fluke genre status. Double sigh.

I suppose I should still be grateful that I got a taste more of Firefly, since almost everything I love dies a grisly early death--noticed by no one but me :P

(Psst....don't tell anyone that Lost is specfic. Somehow the norms haven't noticed, and they've made this 'drama' a massive hit. I was sure they'd kill that one before it hit 13; it was too wonderfully freaky and sharp to have a chance.)

What really toasts my biscuits is that Serenity got beaten by Panic-Room-On-A-Plane, which was terrible when it was in an apt, so I just can't *believe* people would watch it twice. Actually, I CAN believe it, but it no less disgusts me...:D

If you haven't seen Serenity, haul your butt out and see it. You'll want to see it on the big screen, because it's so very very pretty.

You don't have to know the series, you don't have to like Star Wars et al, you just have to love a story with people that make you laugh and cry and jump out of your seat cheering like a loon.

Or maybe you like swoopy spaceships and dusty dusters and hawt sarcastic boys and girls.

That works too ;)

'Starbush'
© 2005 Marlo Dianne
Original nature photography
(pixelation brought to you by Picasa)

'Cherry Swirl'
© 2005 Marlo Dianne
Original nature photography
(pixelation brought to you by Picasa)

Lost: The Snorking Version

is here

Don't Eat...Ever

I felt cruel laughing, but I couldn't help myself.

I present: The Company Cookbook

Warning: Eat breakfast first. Or maybe not.

Whoosh

Listening to: Jason Mraz - "Life is Wonderful"
Playing: Xenosaga
Watching: Supernatural
Reading: Lisa Kleypas

There's nothing like a car trip to see good people--complete with new car smell--even if the skies have opened up unendingly, so its upped the ante to monsoon season out there, with enough drive to dissolve roofs and asphalt.

I mean, it was several weeks ago that my lawn started sprouting mushrooms in the wet, and I think it's too much for even them now. The squirrels loved it though. They were snatching them up and stashing shrooms in the tree branches. We all love the fungi. :)

But seriously, enough of the rain already. My dang ribs are tearing from the cartilage again, and yes, that feels worse than it looks on CSI. Ask any asthmatic. It's like getting staked... except you can't go poof and have it end. :P

Quick Notes:

Serenity: *sniff* I miss you, Joss. Firefly forever!

Yearly Holiday Knitting Blitz: 2 pairs slippers, 2 pairs socks done
Mr A-Z: on repeat, repeat, repeat

Fox: Baseball?! *shakes fist*

'Sentinels'
© 2005 Marlo Dianne
Original digital art
(pixelation brought to you by Picasa)

'Wishes Wind'
© 2005 Marlo Dianne
Original nature photography
(pixelation brought to you by Picasa)

'Net Worth'
© 2005 Marlo Dianne
Original nature photography
(pixelation brought to you by Picasa)

'Shell Life'
© 2005 Marlo Dianne
Original nature photography
(pixelation brought to you by Picasa)

'Roll Over'
© 2005 Marlo Dianne
Original nature photography
(pixelation brought to you by Picasa)

'Bag It'
© 2005 Marlo Dianne
Original portrait photography
(pixelation brought to you by Picasa)

'Hay Harvest'
© 2005 Marlo Dianne
Original nature photography
(pixelation brought to you by Picasa)

It's Alive....Alive!

Amityville House of Pancakes Vol 2, featuring my novella, Gella Murphy: Public Dick, as well as my snazzy coverart (it's greeting you there at the top of this page) is now out and live on Amazon

It's also on Indigo, Chapters, Barnes and Noble, etc. It may also be in your local bookstore, although since it's small press, your local bookstore might be coy. They can order it very easily though (through Ingram, like any book), so just poke them with sticks until they comply ;)

Oh, and for the inevitable 'what's your story about?' It's a noirish alt hist detective novel. Certain death and brownies.

Not convinced?Here's your opener:

[excerpt]

She killed him.

I'd had better assumptions, I'm sure, but this one was just tasty. I could see her through the glass door of the office; she had the harder glint. She was done up in cold perfection too: a sundae, killer under the cream.

I admit it. Fine. I can't read people, because they're so rarely in print. But I do pick up things, things important to them. You know, I usually start with the tab.

All the honour of being a public dick.

Yeah, you heard me. I'm a dick. Not too fussy about who I do it for either. I can't be. I'm not the gregarious gumshoe, the dashing detective. I'm a public servant. Just come through the door, and I'm yours. I have to dick around for you.

I'm looking for a way out of that...

[/end excerpt]

'Whisk'
© 2005 Marlo Dianne
Original nature photography
(pixelation brought to you by Picasa)

I'm Back

Listening to: Bobby Vinton - 'My Elusive Dreams'
Soon Playing: Xenosaga

Back from a 2 hr bike ride and a walk where I filled my (256 mb) memory card :P That's my kind of trip ;)

I'm also back from sales, requests, deadlines, and a celebratory anniversary thing--video games are the sweetest presents, baby. So, things were / are still crazy, but a bit more in a good way *laugh*