Original Photography: 'Foxy I', 'Foxy II'

Foxy III is blank space.

Original Photography: 'Crabby'

Personal Growth

I've spent the past five days screaming in agony, and I have to expect it to be with me for months more. If I survive.

I've got a tumour.

The vomming blood et al I had back in April is now a daily thing, and I didn't know it then, but it was my stomach wolverine being very angry about the company.

And it's not the worst of it.

My body has been broken for most of my life, and I thought I knew the utter worst of pain, but this, this is...more. Way more. Way way beyond human. The thing is only the size of a cough drop, still, it is fucking me up but good.

I got referrals to specialists, finally, but my appointment is in September. Apparently, a tumour that has me writhing and screeching my throat raw every day, unable to eat or drink or sleep, and, of course, pleading for death, is not important enough to bump the queue. I'm told there is only one thing that bumps the queue: pregnancy.

So, if my body had popped a baby, I could get treated right away. It just chose to grow the wrong thing, so fuck me.

Not that I am bitter.

No wait, I think I am.

For months now, I have been begging for help from anyone with medical anything, and they just keep telling me now to worry, that this isn't serious, that I don't need any medication, that really, I don't even need treatment, just to go home and wait and stop bothering them.

They can say that because it's not their guts being torn out every fucking day.

The SU has been fighting with receptionists, nurses, doctors, pharmacists, determined to get someone, anyone, to help me. It's not a cure the spousal unit is begging for, but something, anything, that can dampen the symptoms enough that I can make it to September. Or even tomorrow.

They all say they can't do anything, that I just have to wait. Really, they don't even say that. They'll only say 'we won't dispense medical advice over the phone'.

Okay.

But you don't do it in person either.

Acceptance: 'Follow'

My artwork 'Follow', will be appearing as a story illustration, for 'Graduation', in the Summer 2007 issue of All Possible Worlds.

Acceptance: 'Pillows'

My artwork 'Pillows', will be appearing as a story illustration, for 'Day Off', in the Summer 2007 issue of All Possible Worlds.

Snow Day Update

I just took a peek outside, expecting that I probably wouldn't even see a lonely flake. Nope, it looks like someone has dipped the world in runny frosting.

*drool* Frosting...*drool*

Original Photography: 'Uprooted'

Original Photography: 'Waffles'

Original Photography: 'Creep'

Original Photography: 'Frog Green'

Snow Day in May

So first, they said flurries.

Then, they went up to 2 cm.

Last they muttered in anyone's direction, it was 10-15 cm plus freezing rain.

While I hadn't put my winter coat aside, I didn't expect to see snowplows for a while...

And I'm wearing three sweaters. Yes, right now. In *May*. Now that I mind, but it's a tad odd.

Oh Look! Another Fan Letter!

Found in the comment trail:

Anonymous said...

I don't intend to be mean or anything, but I've been listening to some of your Librivox recordings, and finding them difficult to follow. A bit melodramatic, to be honest. You might think about listening to some of the other major readers and paying attention to their inflection, phrasing, and such.

5/16/2007 03:03:00 PM

Oh, and my fans are always so humble, they're anonymous.

I stopped volunteering for Librivox well over a year ago. Because I was getting hate mail, really violent hateful mail, that, I am not making this up, included death threats.

Some of you--just a few, probably, but they're very loud and very angry--are a little too critical of your free literature. And really really afraid of accents.

I could say a lot of things, but it so wouldn't matter. I can't make you hear what I hear.

It ends at this: we're all different. The world doesn't sound the way you sound. My story may not be your story. But, if you can't like it, at least get over it. Shrilling at me, or anyone, because they 'talk funny' doesn't *do* anything. It's not hurting you...

And it makes you look like a bigoted nitwit.

Just sayin'.

Flogging Hard

I was just saying in the comment trail how when you find art you like, you must flog it mercilessly to everyone you know. Or even people you don't know.

Sometimes, you want to run up and down your street, screaming. Clothes optional. Maybe bolt and pop door to door with book in hand gushing, 'Have you *read* this?'

You can't help yourself. The whole point of stories is sharing them.

You do that when they suck and blow too, but it's not near as fun. Especially when it was a writer who used to make you giddy, and now makes you believe in pod people.

Pod people with a taste for crap.

Anyway, I have done my flogging too well. On the weekend, scouring the bookstore, I discovered *both* Kim Harrison and Lisa Kleypas have gone hardcover.

*insert stab of agony here*

It's such conflicted pain. I'm happy for them. It's a sign of success, and it's more money, and that can make it easier for them to write more. That's good. But I can't afford HCs--even the price of PBs makes me cringe--so I have to wait longer. Sometimes years. While staring at a book I can't have yet. That's bad.

Although, the Kleypas book didn't look interesting, which helped. I loved some of her historicals, but this was modern Texas. Huh.

On the other page, the Harrison book, I didn't dare pick up. Not even to read blurbage. Because I know it would have stayed in my hugging arms, as a sad crazy part of my brain tried to reason that I don't need groceries, I need book.

I also found I had an impossible time finding something else to read. I wasn't being demanding. I just wanted one. *One* book that looked interesting.

I ended up with a tiny stack, where the premise hooked me. But when I cracked them open to read the openers the prose was awful. It was like they'd been assembled by random generator. At least to my brain, they weren't just awkward, they didn't even make sense. It was bizarre.

I did get one book. One! Awk!

Anyhoo, If it turns out to be good, you'll hear more about it, I promise.

My flogging arm will be ready to crack...

Original Photography: 'Scrub'

Acceptance: 'Very Tale'

My poem, "Very Tale", will be appearing in the March 2008 issue of Tales of the Talisman.

Yes, poetry! And you have to wait a year to see it! Muwahahahahahaha!

This marks my second appearance in Talisman. A Repeater! Weeeeeeeee!

Fire the Temp

Great.

Blogger broke my template.

I have no idea how, so I have no idea how to fix it.

I may not be *able* to fix it. Blogger broke images months ago, and I still can't upload anything. Unless I use IE. Which I hate with a thousand fiery passions of pus. All I can figure is bad code likes bad code, and the same gaping security holes that IE has, Blogger wants to use.

So this template thing may be grim...

Update: I think I got it fixed. At least, after more than three frickin hours of trail and error, it looks almost normal on my end. Who knows if it will hold. Or if it works on your end.

Original Photography: 'Fish Gotta Swim'

This is a close up shot. The real view of the water is much longer and wider than a road.

The fish are heading up the river, so determined and thick they are pushing each other out of the water, a skittery throbbing traffic jam.

The seagulls have come in from the shore for the occasion, and are very very happy.

Cinquains, How Quaint

Oh yes, it's time for syllable poetry. Dance!

These were originally jotted in the Deadpan comment trails,* but are reproduced here. For glory.


I may
Learn how to count
Just so I join the mess
And break up novel edits many
Bored now



Ocean
Many allergens
Ah anaphylaxis
As much fun to enjoy as spell
Pass epi



* Where we scribble and post a lot of bad poetry. Because we are sick, as well as Deadpan. If you're going to give in to peer pressure, kids, let it be caving to jotting in verse.