In a casual perusal of the internet in order to find out if Ellora's Cave had truly closed or not, I found that another one of the bigger publishers was going down the toilet as well. Sort of

I couldn't find Ellora's Cave, but in all truth, I didn't really look all that long. I noticed the death wails of the other company first and veered off in that most interesting direction. Seems like the same kind of shit going on. Samhain not paying authors because the publisher isn't making any money. 

Messy, childish back and forth emails between said publisher and bewildered writers, etc. Threats levied. Lies told. Profits stolen. 

Is it a shame that I think it's all kind of ... funny?

In a dull, repetitive way, of course. 

'Cause 'been there, done that', right?

Thing is, this surely looks like murder to me. The systematic murder of the larger, competitive, e-book publishers. Ellora's Cave made certain claims that I don't exactly disbelieve due to experience. I'm not sure what's going on with Samhain--no experience with them that matters--but it feels very familiar on one level (Imma pay my friends/fuck buddies and steal from the actual talent), and bigger than that on another.

Purposeful. Planned. Executed. 

--Sips tea--

Still funny, tho. 


Do hold your shitty messages. I'm just talking to be talking.



...I feel something so right 
doin' the wrong thing
I feel something so wrong
doin' the right thing...


Merry Merry

I almost didn't post anything. It's been a weird year. I've been through a lot. Learned a lot. Writing two fan fics at once. I love the first one. Second one, is just weird and for my own amusement. There's supposed to be a third, but my writing partner wants to get to know meh. And that's just not going to happen. So, that one, though interesting in premise, will likely die, which is sad, but introverts gotta...introvert.

Those things said, I am...happy. Well, happier than usual anyway. Which is good for me. So, Merry Christmas, anyone who happens to read this. May the New Year be a happy, prosperous one for you. And I hope you get everything you want from that fat fuck, Santa Claus. 

We should make him pay what he owes, yeah?


...As the music dies, something in your eyes, calls to mind the silver screen...

...and all its sad goodbyes....


Harsh Reality

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And the winner of this years Ugly American pageant is: Donald J. Trump.

I am less than surprised. People are freaking out. The klu klux klan is partying like it's 1759. I suppose things are going to get worse now for brown people. Shoved into private prisons/slave plantations with the rest of the boatloads, asked for my apartheid identity papers, and needing to be home before the streetlights go out so I don't get shot by the cops or some other desperate motherfucker just like me. At least I won't be bored. Hell, life is an adventure, yeah?

Lord Voldemort being elected is far from the problem. We had two shitty candidates. Those two people were the best that America could do. For me, therein lies the real problem. He is self-serving scum and she is self-serving scum in this self-serving scumbag of a country that selflessly serves the rich and selfishly enslaves the poor. Only the poor believe that color/gender/sexuality matters to rich people. This is because the poor are, for the most part, under-educated, religious, and, most importantly, mentally lazy. It is just easier to believe that whatever your problem is it's someone else's fault and then just pick somebody to fuck up to make yourself feel better because you suck.

The racial tension that doesn't exist in America, a racial tension that was played upon by a brilliant sorcerer with no credentials in order to win the highest (visible) seat in the land, increases. The level of small, petty-minded, and stupid is just...too much. I swear, it's like being forced to watch Here Comes Honey BooBoo forever--this world. Wearing those clamps on your eyes like that dude in A Clockwork Orange. Unable to shut your poor, dry ass peepers to the sad, ridiculousness of it all, you just do what he did, and dream of rape.

Speaking of rape, women, and quite a few dudes, to be honest, are going to have their pussies grabbed now, boiii. I suppose that, at least, is going to be a little fun. It's been awhile.

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I'm waking up
To ash and dust
I wipe my brow
And I sweat my rust

I'm breathing in
The chemicals
I'm breaking in
I'm shaping up
Then checking out 
On the prison bus

This is it
The apocalypse...


Thinking Out Loud about CONFIDENCE...OR NAH

I live in a world where Donald Trump is running for president and might win. A good portion of the country is going to vote for him against their own interest because he's singing that siren's song of oppression that makes them feel good inside. They're still broke and he's not going to change that, but there are some brown people underneath them--and that's all that really matters to them. He is running against a woman who labeled African American youth "Super Predators" in the 90's. She said: "...they must be brought to heel" in her speech, like they were dogs. Animals. Ultimately, these people are ants in the point that I attempting to make here, which is a shame, because they are a nightmare, or should be. But they're small, insignificant to the point. And the point is confidence, or, a lack thereof. 

Confidence is a thing that comes from the self. While I believe it can be greatly affected by the workings of other people ala Jean Paul Sarte's line of reasoning, it is still an issue of self. A good example would be a rats in a maze (common saying, apt too). The Makers of the maze have all the keys and levers for trap doors that the rat has no idea about. The Makers of the maze have all the cheese. He/she can give the rat cheese or not. If the rat hits a brick wall or falls through the floor into a subterranean tunnel within the maze and has to take days, weeks, even years, to make his way back to the starting point, does the rat feel bad inside and lose confidence in his/her attempts to navigate and free him/herself from the maze? Probably. That's the set-up, right? The design of the maze. Ultimate control. 

Coming to understand the maze is the impossible thing. And you should have seen my little rat brain working, attempting to understand why publishing company after publishing company failed no matter how much revenue that company was generating--all of it in an attempt to control the hungry rat population, desperate for the cheese...willing to do anything for some recognition and a toothy nibble of that delicious Swiss in the hopes of one day eating enough cheese to become a Maker One Day and having sadistic control of all the other rats. Biting one another over crumbs while their Maker/Breaker Overlords bet against them and pick winners and losers at whim. 

Another publishing company has failed (name withheld 'cause they never did a damn thing to me), and, frankly, I am vaguely sad about it. This one was rather beautiful. I liked the way it began. That audacity and bravery that started it. The person that created it was a hero to me in a distant kind of way. They bucked the unjust, rape-like, system, much to the system's absolute rage and despair. They were a rat that became a Maker--one of the very few that actually made that happen. They had a beautiful thing going as far as rats and Makers go. The other foolish rats are taking pleasure in the death of this company in their Trump-supporting rat-like way. Tittering to themselves as the destruction of something beautiful--watching the world burn, so to speak. And I'm just watching what I can only consider to be a kind of rat-like-senseless-self-destructive-witch-burning mania. When there's no cheese, the rats turn mean and cannibalistic, you know. And the Makers laugh their asses off at the gladiator sport of it. 

-Sigh- What was I talking about again? Oh yeah, confidence...

...or, a lack thereof...

I like to write. 

I just discovered that I'm not a fucking rat

And I'm confident in that.


Black Mirror: San Junipero

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If I was a Saudi Prince with a Saudi harem, these two ladies would be my stars

I consider the show Black Mirror to be horror. Normally, it shows the ugly side of the way humans are living today and how that's going to expand into worse horror in the future. It knocks the 'like me' desperation of social media. It makes little mechanical bees that'll kill you. It show us what a human zoo would look like if we lose any more of our souls to the various machines. I enjoy this show and I've recommended it before. I like horror stories a lot. 

However, this season, I saw the most beautiful love story on Black Mirror and I don't want those people who crave love to miss it. It's my public responsibility to rave about this thing. 

San Junipero is a place you can go that eliminates the mystery of what happens to you after you die. It is one big constant party and when you are dying you are allowed into San Junipero at five hour increments in preparation for the day that you truly 'pass over'. Yorkie (brown hair, glasses, above) is wandering around the party town. She's lovely in a nerdy way and lost. She spies the beautiful Kelly trying to get away from some guy and she follows them, already enchanted.

Yorkie has never known love. She has been in a coma for most of her life because she came out to her parents as gay and the pain of their rejection caused her to get into a terrible accident that stole away her life. Kelly was married for forty-six years. She put away her desire for women early on and she really did love her husband. Kelly wants to follow him and the daughter she lost into whatever lies beyond death. She does not want to be a part of San Junipero.

But she didn't count on falling in love with Yorkie.

Honestly, it's just beautiful. It has all the elements of the other stories. It is the same kind of thing. But it isn't horror. Or, rather, the love story triumphs over one of the last images which is their little batteries/cells being locked in with thousands, maybe hundreds of thousands of others, in the big machine that is San Junipero. 

I don't know. Maybe there is something horrific in being in a simulated kind of life. But all I could see was two miserable people who found one another and were happy. The other residents of San Junipero  seemed kind of desperate to me. Partying like it was the end of the world. Orgies seemed pretty standard there and all kinds of weirdness to make up for a lack that seemed to be there. 

It's the same way here though, yeah?

The only difference is the LOVE.

Highly recommended, 10 out of 10 and all that. Beautiful story. 

Kelly and Yorkie 4 Ever