March 26th, 2012

white

Sarah Palin vs. Nazis from the Dark Side of the Moon

Over the last two or three weeks the fear and anger and depression have been far more prominent, and have been so for a more extended period of time, than they have since the Spring of 2010. I find myself sleeping at odd hours of the day and have little desire (to which I can here confess, decorum being what it is) to do anything other than sleep. The insomniac's irony. Sleep is, I discovered long ago, a sort of time travel (so long as you have no fantasies of traveling backwards). My consciousness is allowed to leapfrog ahead, skipping many hours at a time (dreams aside), blacking out great swaths of empty time that would be filled only with, in this case, anger and depression. Monsieur Insomnia hates this, this escape hatch, and he is ever at war with my time traveling, but there you go. Anyway, it's for the best that I'm not keeping a day-to-day blog. There's almost nothing left to say.

You keep typing or you die.

At the end of February, my agent and I decided that legalese should be called LeLe, and applauded its efforts to make language entirely incomprehensible.

I've almost finished the steampunk story I first mentioned on March 16th, and which, on March 17th, I said would be titled "The Benefactions of Demons MM. Newcomen, Watt, and Boulton (1900)." Turns out, it's titled "Goggles (c. 1910)." Actually, I tossed out the three thousand words I'd written on "The Benefactions of Demons MM. Newcomen, Watt, and Boulton (1900)," and began writing this story, instead. That may be the only sound decision I've made this month. But were I ever to write "The Benefactions of Demons MM. Newcomen, Watt, and Boulton (1900)" (which I shall not ever do), it would set the stage for "Goggles (c. 1910)." On Saturday, I wrote 1,113 words on the story, and another 1,022 yesterday. Before that, it's all sort of hazy. I'll finish it this afternoon. But this is my LAST steampunk story. The last Cherry Creek story. This is my post-apocalyptic swan song to that world. It's also my comment on the bizarrely rosy worldview beloved by steampunk devotees, as they embrace their revisionist Victorian world, almost always ignoring the hideous price tag it would bear. This is the world some indeterminate number of years after the first – and last – world war. Three children and three bullets and a pack of wild dogs. To quote Public Image Ltd, This is what you want, this is what you get...here now, ending, one life, one knife.

The weather went to fuck again. Here in Providence, we had a few days of what I would call genuine spring, and now we're back to cold spring.

There's more I would say, but no good would come of it. I will, however, leave you with this, Iron Sky (I'm pretty sure Rick Santorum is behind this):



Don't blame me,
Aunt Beast
hunger games

Addendum: Stuff I won't write down tomorrow.

1) An Alabaster: Wolves update: On March 28th at 4pm Pacific Time, Steve Lieber and I will be answering questions LIVE on Twitter, hashtag #AlabasterComics. Here's the official announcement, with additional details. Note the FREE giveaways: 10 FREE Digital copies of Alabaster: Wolves to participants, to will be distributed when it becomes available on April 11th. And yes, the series will be available in digital and analog formats (this means you don't need a local comic store to get the book, by the way).

2) Every goddamn day something comes along to horrify and disgust me more than the day before. Or something comes along that horrifies and disgusts me more every hour. Today, the worst of it was additional evidence of the prevalence of a resurgence of racism among American teens: Racist Hunger Games Fans Are Very Disappointed. The article began with the creation of this Tumblr page, begun by an admirer of Suzanne Collins' who was outraged by a flurry of racist comments regarding the character Rue. I love the pages' dedication to "Hunger Games fans on Twitter who dare to call themselves fans yet don't know a damn thing about the books."

Initially, I meant to post and discuss several of the actual comments that showed up on Twitter, but then I realized that would only give these dirtbags additional exposure. It's all there at Jezebel, if you have the stomach for this shit. And much of it is genuinely inhumanly vile fucking shit. I'd love to see some of these children wake up black in Birmingham, Alabama in, oh, say, 1964, faced with police dogs and fire hoses. Note, also, that most of these Twitter accounts have since been deleted by the users. I checked in on many of them today.

Spooky and I will see the movie tomorrow. You may recall I loved the novel.

3) Today, I wrote another 1,399 words on "Goggles (c. 1910)," and reached the end of this very, very bleak tale. Spooky almost cried when she finished reading it. I was glad the ending actually came out with a bit more humanity than I'd expected. The story needs a quick polish, but otherwise, it's ready to go to the editor (I'll announce the book's title soon, if you've not guessed it already). And no, I'm not trying to end steampunk. I've written my last steampunk story, and am offering a comment on all those steampunk stories that can be best described as told through "rose-colored goggles."

I think that's all for now.