YES, I managed to write my NaNoWriMo quota today. NO, it wasn’t fun. In yesterday’s comments, Suisan wrote,
I can definitely see that the first week will be exciting, but I anticipate problems keeping up the pace next week and the next. Hmmmmm.
Next week? Next week? It’s only Day 2, and I’m already chafing. I don’t like this. I want to finish reading Things Fall Apart before I forget all those similar-sounding tribal names. I want to waste time playing computer games. I want to read someone’s blog besides my own (or the evil Sarah, who tempts me with her condom rants and tales of sex with pregnant women — and, may I say it? That is the best).
I’m reminded of a hideously ugly female I met when I was a kid. She was wider than she was tall and had all sorts of hideous crusties all over her body. Oh, hell. A picture is worth etc. Meet Mrs. Horta:

That’s her on the right, next to a few silicon balls, which are in fact her children! Since she was the last of her kind, Captain Kirk wanted to kill her, but Spock mind-melded with her and learned that she was in PAIN! PAIN! and was killing the miners only because they were stealing her eggs, or crushing them, or bowling with them. I can’t remember.
Right now I feel just like Mrs. Horta. I have to plop out so-many silicon balls a day or my species will die. Ugh, this metaphor dies an early death. Who is Spock? Spock would be Suisan and Jona and all y’all who are feeling the same pain. Who is Kirk? That would have to be Maureen, cuz she got me into this and that’s how mean I’m feeling right now.
Question: What denizen of hell thought up NaNoWriMo?
Question: I think I can do this, but will I be better for it, come December 1st? Or will my muse rebel to the point that I will no longer be able to sign prescriptions?
More serious question for my UK pals (and any history wonks in the audience): Can anyone recommend a good book on the English Civil Wars? Karen thought that would be a good place to start Jake’s education on revolutions.
If you haven’t already done so, give me your vote on the “Hot or Not” gizmo on the right side bar. Hint: 10 is better than 1.
Does it matter? Heck no. I don’t get a single referral through those guys, so I don’t know why I bother. But, you know something? It’s the principle of the thing.
D.
Technorati tag: NaNoWriMo
Here I am at the end of Day 1 with 1810 words completed. 1810 good words, I might add. Here’s the opening:
All across the Silk Road, sentient beings share a similar curse. May your eyes never converge, say the Amanu of hidden S’dep, while on the cold stone world of Vora, the hideous Elkalept chant the couplet, Twelve points his claws / Warm prey on each. That rhymes in Bebili, if you can believe my Exotic Studies professor.
My personal favorite is the Roon Vissar expression, It is the wild tail that wags the weary dog, but the Dobolu High-tusks oink it differently: To snuffle up a smorgasbord. Here on Sylvanon, we Benevolents say, Your TiVo runneth over; yet no one puts it as plainly as the Chinamen of Earth: You should live in interesting times.
I used to think I lived in interesting times. Looking back on it, I see now that my life in Gollywood reveled in boring sameness. My days and nights enjoyed a glorious predictability. Invariably, Cooter would stab me in the back, Ari would scoop me on my squats, and Mr. Trump would side with Ari. At day’s end I’d drink my sorrows away, then bury my woes, and my face, in mounds of warm, synthetic human flesh.
Then I met Cassandra.
Not a bad day at all. But I ask you: what are the NaNoWriMo-inflicted casualties?
1. Blogging time. I’m dashing this off at 10:47 PM (and counting) and I still need to type up Jake’s homework for tomorrow AND take a shower. Have I had time to visit my friends’ blogs today? Grrrrrr.
2. Politics time. I’m dying to read up on Rule 21, Harry Reid, and the evil Dr. Scalito Loveless — oh, crud. That makes three casualties.
3. My sense of humor. That Scalito Loveless crack verged on the autistic. Do any of you get that joke, or am I stroking myself here? Aw, hell. It has come to this: I’m explaining my jokes.
4. Blog traffic. Oh, well; it’s not like I sell advertisement here.
You’ll notice that I did not put “family time” on the list. I cooked dinner, did the dishes, and played chess with Jake for an hour this evening. So far, so good.
Time to type up homework. I’m teaching him grammar from The Deluxe Transitive Vampire (he likes it a lot better than Strunk and White), and he has moved on from TKAM to Animal Farm. I’m thinking about focusing on revolutions this year. How about George Bernard Shaw’s The Revolutionist’s Handbook? Should be mandatory reading for every ten-year-old boy.
I’m outa here.
D.
Technorati tag: NaNoWriMo
Demented Michelle has posted all entries to her Halloween Prank Challenge here. Head on over, read ’em, and vote for your favorite. You’ve probably already read my entry, but what the hey, read it again. I know y’all can’t get enough of my hacky sack.
Elsewhere in the ‘osphere, Invisible Lizard is hosting a challenge (details here) for NaNoWriMo participants. As I understand the rules, contestants who fail to complete their 50K words must clean the toe jam from those of us who finish. Yeah. Something like that.
D.
Technorati tag: Halloween, NaNoWriMo
Okay, I’m kidding about the toe jam . . . but I still can’t make head nor tails of the rules. My brain is still fuzzed over from the move, I suppose.
Not what I’d call my first choice for Halloween. Only decent stuff I could find at the viddy store: Evil Dead, Reanimator 2, and Ringu. And what does Jake want to watch tonight? To Kill a Mockingbird.
Um . . . not scary?
Maybe I’m in a bad mood because I’m using my kickass new gas range/oven and the house smells like natural gas. That’s not right, right?
At least I figured out how to use my kickass new dishwasher.
Halloween never used to be my favorite holiday. That would be Hannukah, for obvious reasons; second favorite, July 4th. Call me a revolutionary at heart. That, or a pyromaniac. What is it with me and incomplete sentences today? I seem to be hung up. On them.
Maybe I’m gearing up for a month of crappy speed-writing.
Here’s what I remember about childhood Halloween: almost nothing. My only costumes were cheapy store-bought rigs with simple gowns, masks held in place with rubber bands that always broke way too early. If I have my goody sack in one hand and I’m holding my mask to my face with the other, how do I knock? With my foot, naturally. Some neighbors objected to my door-kicking technique.
I watched the Charlie Brown Halloween Special every year. I don’t know why; I hated every aspect of that show, from Charlie Brown’s pathetic “I got a rock,” to idiotic Linus’s Great Pumpkin religion, to Snoopy, who nowadays makes me think those dog-eating cultures have the right idea.
I carved unimaginative pumpkins, mostly for the seeds. Yum. Soak in brine, rub off most (not all!) of the stringy orange guts, then roast in the oven until crispy. Chew up whole. Your colon will thank you for the fiber load.
No, I had to hit adulthood to fall in love with Halloween.
My favorite Halloween: second year of med school, Karen and I held a Reanimator Halloween party. We played a video of Reanimator for our friends, who were told to bring food shaped like body parts. Our friend Dean brought a chocolate cake shaped like feet. Karen carved out a watermelon, made it look like a head (pumpkin-style), filled the shell with fruit salad, and stuck a bunch of yellow Gatorade-filled hypodermic needles into the watermelon rind.
I have to finish cooking dinner. Nothing fun, unfortunately: pork chops, yams, and broccoli.
D.
Technorati tag: Halloween
I doubt you’ll be surprised to learn that Halloween is our favorite holiday. When Jacob (now ten years old) announced he didn’t want to go candy-raiding this year, it saddened me. I didn’t ask him why, mostly because I dreaded the “I’m too old for that now” response. It might have more to do with his lack of a costume, but that pushes the issue back one step. Why didn’t he pester me about the costume months in advance, as he’s done for the last seven years?
He hasn’t even asked to carve a pumpkin. Damn it, I’m going to get choked up if I keep thinking about this.
On the other hand, I’m also relieved. Thanks to the move, I’m sore as hell, and there are a lot of other things I should be doing besides crafting a cool costume, buying a pumpkin, or blogging. Nevertheless, I’d like to do something special.
I think we should rent a movie.
Here’s my short list of films to watch for Halloween. I dislike slasher flicks, so you won’t find any of the usual recommendations here.
3. Reanimator (1985) Even stuffy Pauline Kael, a critic who never liked a single Kubrick film, loved Reanimator. Based loosely on H. P. Lovecraft’s Herbert West, Reanimator, this film sets the bar for all humor-horror films. Jeffrey Combs gives his best over-the-top performance as West, David Gale (who’s a dead ringer for Senator John Kerry — watch it and tell me I’m wrong) as the evil Dr. Hill, and Barbara Crampton as the Dean’s daughter and winner of my Best Movie Breasts Ever award. Reanimator gives new meaning to the phrase giving head. Who says you need a penis to satisfy a woman?
2. Dead Alive (AKA Braindead, 1992) Ever wonder what Peter Jackson was up to before he got all cozy with hobbits and elves and such? Rent Dead Alive, the funniest zombie flick ever filmed. Engaging young Timothy Balme plays a young man with amorous intentions towards the beautiful Paquita (Diana Penalver). But will his domineering mother (Elizabeth Moody) let him out from under her thumb? Featuring the dreaded Sumatran rat monkey (one bite and you’ll be feasting on brains), interesting new uses for your lawnmower, and the largest vagina dentata ever committed to film. If Karen were writing today’s blog, this would be number one. Come to think of it, it should be number one, but I’m too lazy to change things now.
1. Parents (1989) In what might be described as the dark side of Leave it to Beaver, Randy Quaid and Mary Beth Hurt star as the eponymous mom and dad of darling moppet Bryan Madorsky. Madorsky plays Michael Laemle, a child who develops increasingly paranoid fantasies about his folks. Are his parents extraterrestrials? What are those leftovers made of?
The film was billed as an SF comedy, but horror seems a more apt genre for this nugget. By the way, Karen does not endorse this recommendation. She warns that it’s depressing and disturbing.
Happy Halloween!
D.
Technorati tag: Halloween
Today’s New York Times Op-Ed lineup features Nicholas Kristof, Frank Rich, and David Brooks. In brief: Kristof calls for Dick Cheney’s resignation, Rich charts the Cheney-Bush Administration’s far-reaching deception and manipulation of the American public, and David Brooks calls us lefties a bunch of paranoid wackos.
Freshman year at Berkeley, I lived in a boarding house. I took breakfast and lunch at the International House, and my house mom fixed me dinner Monday through Friday. On the weekends, I had to fend for myself. More on that some other time. For now, let me leave you with one suggestion: bran flakes do not make a tasty crust for ling cod.
We’re moving tomorrow, in case you missed my poem, so I doubt I’ll have time to blog until the evening. Only then will you learn what body part I accidentally crushed/flayed/pierced in the act of unpacking.
(Yeah, right — like I’m gonna finish unpacking tomorrow. Dream on.)
Three days left to plan for NaNoWriMo. My muse is attacking this task with all the fervor of two Mormon boys on bicycles being told, “Park those bikes, boys, come in, and set a spell.” Note that my muse is so taxed by NaNoWriMo that she has no energy left over to craft humorous metaphors.
Here’s a glimpse.
Working title: Get Well Soon
Blurb: An ambitious young alien plots to make his fortune by abducting Earth’s finest greeting card writer.
Main character: Pip, a Benevolent*.
Highlights: Hollywood snark, clever digs at cyberpunk, surprising plot twists, a hard-as-nails love interest, lots of action, kinky extraterrestrial sex, and more!
D.
*For everyone out there who is not Debi or Maureen, the Benevolents are Whitley Strieber-style aliens (you know — Communion?) who have an obsessive fondness for human culture and Earth contraband.
As I and millions of other Americans await Pat Fitzgerald’s announcement this morning, I want to point out that my barely restrained glee is not schadenfreude. This is not partisanship, either. The atrocities committed in America’s name in Iraq began with Bush 41, continued under Bill Clinton, and achieved maximal evil fruition under Junior. Junior is merely the ripe-to-rupture pustule on a boil that’s been growing for some time now.