Tags: nazi assholes


"But, underneath the table, I will spin the wheel and hope for gold."

Sunny today. Currently 76˚F.

I'm still exhausted from yesterday. My thanks to everyone who came out last night. It went very, very well, though I embarrassed myself by almost winding up in tears four of five or six times during the course of my talk, which was a bit rambling and unfocused. I wore my Grandmother Ramey's engagement ring as a good luck charm. I got to meet John Ken Mortensen, who is one of the four artists Centipede Press used for Mythos Tales: Houses Under the Sea. He may be the only man in Denmark with a Roy Orbison tattoo. But yes, it was magical. Also, my thanks to Derrick Hussey and the Aeroflex Corporation for making a very generous donation to pay for the timely curation of the materials I have given Brown. Please, go to the Hay and see the exhibit, if you can. It will be up until December 15, and there going to swap out some of the material of display partway through it, in October or thereabouts. So, it will essentially become a new exhibit at that point.

Did I mention that I'm exhausted?

Spooky picked Sonya up from the train station yesterday afternoon, so she was here to help out. We were up way too late talking politics. Kathryn is about to take her back downtown, as she has Necronomicon all weekend.

Between Charlottesville and the vandalizing of the Holocaust memorial in Boston, my capacity for sorrow and horror and heartsickness is pretty close to maxed out. But I have to keep going.

7:28 p.m.

"Stay in the shadows. Cheer at the gallows. This is a round up."

Yesterday was both Edward Gorey and Anaïs Nin's birthdays, and I feel bad for not having said so...yesterday.

It's sunny here. Currently, it's an unseasonable 52˚F, with only one degree Fahrenheit of windchill.

No writing yesterday, because I had an appointment with my psychiatrist. I'm losing most of this week, which I could not afford to lose. Today, I have to at least settle on an idea. I hate this part, being under the gun to choose something to write about, to pluck something from nothing – or, more accurately, to pluck something from an infinite variety of somethings and then have to commit to making it work as a short story or vignette.

There's an article here that you ought to read, if you have not yet read, a sort of post mortem on the Milo Yiannopoulos takedown and a look at the young white trolls from have clung to his coattails.

It look like tomorrow I'm getting the haircut, if I can get an appointment.

And Kathryn and I just started screaming at each other, so...I take that as the cue to end thus entry. Later.

Resistance, Peace, and Compassion,
Aunt Beast


"And if ever you see them, pretend that you're dead." (10.5 Vicodin)

It's overcast. The sky looks like snow. Currently, it's 34˚F.

The day off was not precisely a success. For one thing, there was work, some of it related to the upcoming book tour in support of Agents of Dreamland. And I'm no good at days off. I spent most of it angry and feeling like I was being a bum for not working. It's now been twelve full days since I left the house. In theory, that's going to end today. I'm planning to take the ms. for "Tupelo (1998)" to the Athenaeum and proofread it there.


The latest antics of the Horror Clown and his Nightmare court have been offset only in the smallest sort of way by the news that Reddit has banned two of its prominent "alt-right" gathering places. I doubt this will make much difference. The Hydra will sprout new heads, before you can say Paul Joseph Goebbels. Meanwhile, there's the leaked copy of a draft executive order titled "Establishing a Government-Wide Initiative to Respect Religious Freedom," which would essentially circumvent any existing protection of LGBT persons. According to Jenny Pizer, senior counsel and law and policy director for Lambda Legal, it defines "male” and “female" as someone’s "immutable biological sex as objectively determined by anatomy and genetics at time of birth," protecting those who decline to perform treatments, surgeries, and counseling related to sex reassignment or gender and identity transitioning. It could also mean that I'll lose my U.S. passport, when it comes up for renewal in September 2020, unless I'm willing to have a passport that says I'm male. Which I won't do.

So, happy times in Trump's Banana Republic that used to be America.


I made this year's Locus Recommended Reading List three times, first in the category of novelette for "Antediluvian Homesick Blues," Sirenia Digest #129, and twice in the short story category, for "Whisper Road (Murder Ballad No. 9)" from Sirenia Digest #125 and "The Line Between the Devil's Teeth (Murder Ballad No. 10)" from Sirenia Digest #130.

I leave you with this shot of Bucktown that Spooky took for me last night, when she went to get our dinner. Bucktown is our favorite restaurant in Providence, truly a little piece of Deep South cuisine in New England:

Resistance, Peace, and Compassion
Aunt Beast

"Bury me at sea where no murdered ghost can haunt me."

Cold and sunny here. Currently, it's 30˚F, with the windchill at 23˚F. And we have snow on the way tomorrow afternoon.

Yesterday, I wrote 1,235 words on "Tupelo (1998)." It was likely the hardest single day I've had with this story, though I expect today to be more difficult. I often find endings to be the most difficult part, because it is so easy to break a thing with a poorly executed ending.

I've not left the house since January 20th. Today will be my tenth day not leaving the house. My record is either fourteen or sixteen days. I'm coming alarmingly near it, either way. It's no way for anyone to live. But I have precious little reason to leave the house. I loathe the cold, and the sight of Providence only reminds me how homesick I am for Birmingham or Leeds or Athens, or, fuck it, even Atlanta. It'll be spring there soon, a few more weeks. Last night, it all came down on top me of, coalescing into a black rage behind my eyes.

I've put myself in a news blackout again, but I did catch David Harbour's marvelous speech at the SAG awards, accepting on behalf of the cast of Stranger Things. You should find it and watch. But here's the text:

I would just like to say, in light of all that's going on in the world today, it's difficult to celebrate the already celebrated Stranger Things, but this award from you who take your craft seriously and earnestly believe, like me, that great acting can change the world is a call to arms from our fellow craftsmen and women to go deeper. And through our art to battle against fear, self-centeredness and exclusivity of our predominately narcissistic culture and through our craft to cultivate a more empathetic and understanding society by revealing intimate truths that serve as a forceful reminder to folks that when they feel broken and afraid and tired they are not alone. We are united in that we are all human beings and we are all together on this horrible, painful, joyous, exciting and mysterious ride that is being alive. Now, as we act in the continuing narrative of Stranger Things, we 1983 Midwesterners will repel bullies. We will shelter freaks and outcasts, those who have no home. We will get past the lies. We will hunt monsters and when we are at a loss amidst the hypocrisy and the casual violence of certain individuals and institutions, we will, as per Chief Jim Hopper, punch some people in the face when they seek to destroy the weak and the disenfranchised and the marginalized. And we will do it all with soul, with heart, and with joy. We thank you for this responsibility. Thank you.

"We will hunt monsters" may be the perfect call to arms for the next four years. I keep waiting to see someone who isn't a loser stand up in defence of the Horror Clown and his Nightmare Court, someone who isn't a washed-up, piece shit joke like Scott Baio or Caitlin Jenner, someone besides ignorant rednecks, far-right evangelical dominionists, and "alt-right" Neo-Nazis, someone who matters. And it keeps not happening. That's a little piece of hope.

But, like I said, I'm on a news blackout.

Now, I gotta go help Dancy hunt some monsters.

Resistance, Peace, and Compassion,
Aunt Beast
Roy Batty

The Necessary Limits of Tolerance

There's this passage from Karl Popper's The Open Society and It's Enemies (1945) that I've been wanting to post for weeks, and here it is (and don't pull that "tl;dr" shit just because this is longer than 140 characters):

Unlimited tolerance must lead to the disappearance of tolerance. If we extend unlimited tolerance even to those who are intolerant, if we are not prepared to defend a tolerant society against the onslaught of the intolerant, then the tolerant will be destroyed, and tolerance with them. In this formulation, I do not imply, for instance, that we should always suppress the utterance of intolerant philosophies; as long as we can counter them by rational argument and keep them in check by public opinion, suppression would certainly be most unwise. But we should claim the right to suppress them if necessary even by force; for it may easily turn out that they are not prepared to meet us on the level of rational argument, but begin by denouncing all argument; they may forbid their followers to listen to rational argument, because it is deceptive, and teach them to answer arguments by the use of their fists or pistols. We should therefore claim, in the name of tolerance, the right not to tolerate the intolerant. We should claim that any movement preaching intolerance places itself outside the law, and we should consider incitement to intolerance and persecution as criminal, in the same way as we should consider incitement to murder, or to kidnapping, or to the revival of the slave trade, as criminal.

This is has to be our response to the so-called "alt-right" fascists, Neo-Nazis by any other name. You don't get to simultaneously call for the destruction of an open society and beg for it to protect your toxic speech.

Resistance, Peace, and Compassion,
Aunt Beast
house of leaves

"Our hopes and expectations, black holes and revelations."

The wind has been blowing hard since yesterday afternoon, and we've had a lot of rain. Currently, the temperature is 43˚F, with the windchill above freezing at 33˚F.

Yesterday was an excellent writing day. I did 1,549 words on "Tupelo." A familiar, heavyset, balding, bearded fellow known to keep company with ghouls and vampires made an appearance, hint, hint.

I'm still coughing.

Fact: If there is a Hell, there is going to be a special corner set aside for the "Hillary Clinton and Donald Trump are exactly the same" morons. And as Warren Ellis and many others are reminding us, there's never a wrong time to punch Nazis and Nazi defenders and Nazi coddlers in the face. This obviously also applies to the alt-right, who are merely Nazis wrapped in the 21st Century. Yes, Virginia, there is a time for violence.

Today's photo comes courtesy of Spooky, who goes out into the wide, wide, scary world and brings me back images of pretty things I didn't get to see for myself.

Resistance, Peace, and Compassion
Aunt Beast