Well, so much for THAT story…

My day here sort of derailed. And if you saw my earlier post, I decided it was more uplifting to just delete it. And, actually, I’m more than happy to be your little dog — if you saw the post; if not, well, then that makes no sense!

My Abstract Absurdity Productions meeting bit the dust today.  My partner there in LA is exceedingly stressed about the toll the virus is taking on the world. So we didn’t work today, which, you know., upset me because even though I’m healthy and happy here in Crazeysburg, I have absolutely no one to talk to.

But, you know, we all have to make adjustments right now. And try our best to allow the people we care about to adjust to things in their own way. And in their own time.

So,  I decided to stop being a crybaby and just get back up on my little pony and ride.

I hope you guys have a good evening, wherever you are in the world. Stay inside, if possible. Wash, wash, wash (and water can be fun, if used discreetly — I’m just saying!!). And try to focus on things that make you feel hopeful and even happy, okay? You gotta do that, otherwise you’re going to tear your hair out. (And it’s gonna take a long time for it to grow back in.)

All righty. Thanks for visiting. I love you guys. See ya!!

Just Chillin’ !!!

So far, so good over here in Crazeysburg, gang!

The good news of course is that China is out of lockdown now and, as predicted recently by the US showbiz news sites, movie theaters there have begun to re-open. Life is getting back to normal there.

In the rest of the world, now 96% of all confirmed cases are considered mild, and 103,395 people have recovered (as of 3/24/2020).

And even my dad said on the phone yesterday that he’s trying to keep the TV off, so miracles are happening everywhere!

I need to regale you with the new coffee mug that’s on its way to me!! It reads: “I like pretty things and the word Fuck”







Just in time for Spring, right??

Also, I was informed over the weekend that my copy of Stranger Than Kindness, the companion book to the currently postponed Nick Cave art exhibition in Copenhagen is on its way to me!! I’m really excited, gang.









They sent me a photo of my book on the actual boat it was loaded on to, so I feel very encouraged that it will reach Crazeysburg sometime this year!

Slow boat from China, bringing me my much anticipated Nick Cave art book! You can’t see it too clearly here, but that guy way over to the far left, is holding up my book!

Once more, I apologize if you’re viewing this post on your phone and the images are skewing the text. I really don’t know why it sometimes does that now.


Today, of course, is Abstract Absurdity Productions day. I believe we are working on the synopsis today, perhaps even the pitch deck, for “Lita måste gå!” (aka “Lita’s Got to Go!”). (It actually does have those 2 titles, which is why I always post it like that.)

I have not resumed work on the web site in the past few days, just because: a.) I didn’t have all the information I needed yet; and b.) it was making me fucking crazy.

I still have the handy-dandy “To-Do” list posted on the wall in front of my laptop, though, which lists everything that still needs doing on the web site. But the good news is that I am now able to completely overlook that list, 24/7. My eyes can look right at the list and yet not transfer any of the information that’s on it to my brain. Almost as if the list no longer exists!! Yay!!

I did manage to nail down the structure I needed for In the Shadow of Narcissa yesterday. I’m not sure why it was being so elusive, but I’ve got it now and I hope that now I can just move forward with writing the rest of the pieces for the chapbook.

Sadly, I don’t think I’m going to be able to keep posting the pieces to my Narcissa web site — or, at least, not all of them. The book pirating problem being what it is now, I don’t want the entire chapbook available online before the book even gets published, you know? (I’ve already seen signs that the existing pieces have already been illegally copied overseas.) But if/when I do post excerpts, I’ll let you know about it here on this site.

And you can always sign up for updates directly through the Narcissa site. (Scroll to bottom.)

And just in case you were curious, it has been nearly one year since quite a few small presses have had my query and/or manuscript regarding my novel Blessed by Light, and only one publisher has responded (and that one publisher responded immediately, said they loved it, but that it was too short for them to publish). Not a single other small press has responded at all. Narry a peep.

So different from the old days before the financial crash, when small presses gave you a yay or nay, usually from an actual person, within 6 weeks. (And plus nowadays, you often have to use “submittable” to submit your query/manuscript, which means you have to pay for them to read it and not reply to you forever.)

Meanwhile, on we go!!

All righty, gang! Thanks for visiting!! Have a terrific Tuesday, wherever you are in the world. I hope you’re continuing to find great ways to enjoy your lockdown.  (I’m still streaming re-runs of DCI Banks in the evenings.) Remember to stay fit and eat right and do the things that will help you keep your spirits up!! Keep in mind: just a few more weeks of this and then we’ll all be looking at just another few more weeks of this!!! And then – SUMMER!!!!

Okay. I leave you with my breakfast-listening music from this morning, “Get Ready for Love” from Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds’ truly incredible 2004 double-album, Abattoir Blues/The Lyre of Orpheus. (It’s kind of unfortunate, though, that they released a double-album that has two titles that are kind of hard to spell…) But enjoy, gang, and play it loud. I love you guys. See ya!!

“Get Ready For Love”

Get ready for love! Praise Him!
Get ready for love! Praise Him!
Get ready for love! Get ready!

Well, most of all nothing much
ever really happens
And God rides high up in the ordinary sky
Until we find ourselves at our most distracted
And the miracle that was promised
creeps quietly by

Calling every boy and girl
Calling all around the world
Calling every boy and girl
Calling all around the world

Get ready for love! Praise Him!
Get ready for love! Praise Him!

The mighty wave their hankies from their
high-windowed palace
Sending grief and joy down in supportable doses
And we search high and low without
mercy or malice
While the gate to the Kingdom swings
shut and closes

Calling every boy and girl
Calling all around the world
Calling every boy and girl
Calling all around the world

Praise Him till you’ve forgotten
what you’re praising Him for
Praise Him till you’ve forgotten
what you’re praising Him for
Then praise Him a little more

© – 2004 Nick Cave, Warren Ellis, Martyn Casey, James  Sclavunos

Let’s Keep Washing, Gang!!

I am definitely not a germ-o-phobe by any stretch, but this virus is starting to push the limits of my non-germ-o-phobia, that’s for sure.

I did three teeny-tiny loads of laundry yesterday, only because I kept wondering which clothes the clothes I was wearing might have touched or brushed up against, even by accident, when I came in from my big trip to town yesterday. (If you’re using google translate, good luck with that paragraph.)

And then I kept washing my hands — did I touch that when I came in? Oh, but now I’ve touched it for sure, should I wash my hands again? Better safe than sorry.

And then: Is my throat sore? Am I getting a sore throat or does my throat always feel like this? I seem fine but my throat feels like it might be getting sore…

All fucking day. I did manage to keep it from getting out of hand, but still. Just that one quick trip into town to go to the market and my mind started to unravel.

Luckily, I am only going to have to make one trip into town each week.

Here’s something I’m going to tell my dad today and I’m sure he’ll be pleased as punch to hear it: the World Health Organization has issued a recommendation that people not listen to the news more than twice a day. I’m sure he’ll point out that he only turns the news on once and then turns it off, however, in the middle of that is the entire day.

Anyway, I’ll give it a shot and we’ll see how it goes.

I did have sort of a rough evening last night. I watched the second half of Agatha Christie’s The Pale Horse (BBC, 2019) and I saw why people gave it such bad reviews. I still enjoyed it overall, but the second half had a lot more violence in it, and the ending was so rushed it was almost incomprehensible. It would have benefited from being a 3-part show instead of a 2-part show. And I wound up feeling like the original version the BBC did probably about 15 years ago or so was a lot better, even though it veered widely from the original story.

Then I switched over to the reruns of DCI Banks and, oh my god, the episode that started streaming automatically started out so bloody and creepy and then turned out to be all about rape. Which you can guess, I just enjoy the hell out of. (And it isn’t so much the actual rape stuff that bothers me, it’s the fact that everyone cares so much that the rape happened and they all need to band together to get the rapes to stop because it is just so terrible and it’s enraging everyone; whereas in my own experience, no one at all cared in the slightest bit that I had been raped — and more than once. Culturally, nobody gave a shit about rape back then. That’s the part that is hard for me to handle, even after all these decades.)

I finally made myself turn it off, but I was only 20 minutes from the end of the show. So I had sat there for quite a while last evening (nearly 3 hours), creeping myself out and wondering the whole time: is my throat getting sore?

But I slept great and I am very happy today, and my throat is absolutely not sore and I’m not stressing about anything at all. I’m planning to get some good work done on In the Shadow of Narcissa today, too.

Oh, plus, I forgot to thank whoever that was on Saturday night who downloaded a free copy of Twilight of the Immortal!!!! That was really nice to see. Thank you.

I’m not going to keep posting all the numbers re: the pandemic, but I will say that over 100,000 people have now recovered from the virus, and overall, we are still holding at 95% of the active cases worldwide being mild. So, you know, keep washing, but it’s in the process of moving through. Never lose sight of that.

I thought you might like to see a photo of the inside of my refrigerator.  I had my phone with me at the kitchen table this morning and when I opened my fridge, it was almost too much. it’s just so fucking healthy, who the hell wants to eat anymore?

Inside my boring fridge!!








Okay. On that lofty note!

I leave you with my breakfast-listening music from this morning! Thanks for visiting, gang, and have a wonderful Monday, wherever you are in the world! Try not to get stressed. Stay focused on the miracle of the human body, and on the undercurrent of love that runs throughout our very beingness; let it all work its unfathomable miracles in this crucial time, okay? I love you guys. See ya!

Okay, Me Again

Okay, this information came to me by way of Peitor, who got it from one of his many friends on lockdown in Italy right now.

In case you haven’t seen this information anywhere else, I’ll summarize it here. This is stuff we should all be doing right now re: ridding ourselves of potential contamination of the virus and all of it seems pretty easy & straightforward to do.

(This information stems from Chinese doctors who have now done autopsies on people who have died from the virus.)

  • First, stop smoking for now — if at all possible. And do what you can to not get the flu — or anything else that will compromise your lungs.
  • Drink hot or warm beverages — stay away from cold drinks if possible. Drink coffee, tea, soup. And every 20 minutes, try to drink some warm water.
  • The virus lives in the throat for a couple of days so washing it down to the stomach right away is imperative. Gastric juices neutralize the virus. The virus will not harm you in your stomach — just in your lungs.
  • Animals to do transmit the virus.
  • Any type of foaming soap, detergent, shampoo kills the virus. However, it lives for up to 9 days on metal or stainless steel surfaces. So wipe down door knobs and handrails, faucets, etc.
  • The virus attaches to clothing and hair. Do not sit down on your furniture when you come inside. Change clothes right away, and shower right away if possible. Also, wash clothes daily. If you can’t afford to run the dryer every day, drying the clothes outdoors in direct sunlight will also kill the virus.
  • Gargle with salt water, or vinegar in water, every day.

And if you feel a sore throat coming on, drink the hot beverages and do the gargling right away — to move the germs out of your throat and down into your stomach.

And of course, keep washing your hands and stop touching your face! I love you guys. Stay well. See ya!


Okay, very quick update!

The market in town was completely stocked with everything— except my favorite dark chocolate. Still sold out of that one. But they had absolutely everything else, even plenty of toilet paper: 12 rolls per pack; limit one pack per customer.

And on the main road outside of the market — plenty of cars in long lines at the restaurant-type places where, by law, only carry-out is available for now.  So the people here are still supporting the people here. And, in preparation for Spring, there were tons of “Help Wanted” and “Now Hiring” signs everywhere at other kinds of non-restaurant places.

Along the highway, there were cows dotting the extremely sunny-though-chilly hillside — including frolicking calves, playing happily with each other. The Wakatamika Creek flooded because of all the recent rain, but it always floods, so no one cares. However, I saw a mommy duck floating with a bunch of happy ducklings in a flooded ditch near the road.

And guess what else??!! Yeah, this (I could not fucking believe it, guys!):

Gas price today in Crazeysburg! $1.79 per gallon  for regular gas!


All righty, gang! Here we go!

Ohio is still holding at 247 known cases of the virus, but of course the day is still young…

However, that said, I gotta drive into town and go to the market. My first time actually in and among a group of total strangers in 8 days. So I’m gonna go early and hopefully beat the crowd of Sunday shoppers. (Still no known cases in Muskingum County, though.)

It’s a gorgeous day out there today, but still really cold. But it will be a pretty drive into town.

Confirmed cases are up all over the world: approximately 206,000 now. However, almost 95% of those cases are considered mild: 196,442. And we’re up to about 96,000 recoveries as of right now (3/22/2020).

And now there is that horrible earthquake thrown into the mix in Zagreb. It does indeed keep seeming Biblical out there, doesn’t it, gang?

Here, in Crazeysburg, everything is still normal. The Evangelical Community Bible church here, which is right across the road from the dollar store, has a sign out front now that says: Stock Up On Jesus.

I feel pretty confident that doing that can only help.

Well, today I’m going to continue working on the outline for In the Shadow of Narcissa, since now my main goal is to get that chapbook finished and off my desk by late Spring.

I will likely post again later this evening. Perhaps something amazing will happen at the market in town that you’ll all want to know about!

For now, I’m leaving you with this! A gem from my wee bonny although very-much-disturbed teenhood. I always took the message of this song to heart and I still do! I’m so serious. (If you weren’t aware of it, Kenny Rogers passed away yesterday at the age of 81.) Thanks for visiting, gang. I’ll be back. I love you guys. See ya!

“The Gambler”

On a warm summer’s evening
On a train bound for nowhere
I met up with a gambler
We were both too tired to sleep
So we took turns a-starin’
Out the window at the darkness
The boredom overtook us
And he began to speak

He said, “Son, I’ve made a life
Out of readin’ people’s faces
And knowin’ what the cards were
By the way they held their eyes.
So if you don’t mind my sayin’
I can see you’re out of aces
For a taste of your whiskey
I’ll give you some advice.”

So I handed him my bottle
And he drank down my last swallow
Then he bummed a cigarette
And asked me for a light
And the night got deathly quiet
And his face lost all expression
Said, “If you’re gonna play the game, boy,
You gotta learn to play it right.

“You got to know when to hold ’em,
Know when to fold ’em,
Know when to walk away,
And know when to run.
You never count your money
When you’re sittin’ at the table.
There’ll be time enough for countin’
When the dealing’s done.

“Every gambler knows
That the secret to survivin’
Is knowin’ what to throw away
And knowin’ what to keep.
‘Cause every hand’s a winner,
And every hand’s a loser,
And the best that you can hope for
Is to die in your sleep.”

And when he finished speakin’
He turned back toward the window
Crushed out his cigarette
And faded off to sleep
And somewhere in the darkness
The gambler he broke even
And in his final words
I found an ace that I could keep

You got to know when to hold ’em
Know when to fold ’em
Know when to walk away
And know when to run
You never count your money
When you’re sittin’ at the table
There’ll be time enough for countin’
When the dealing’s done

You’ve got to know when to hold ’em
(When to hold ’em)
Know when to fold ’em
(When to fold ’em)
Know when to walk away
And know when to run
You never count your money
When you’re sittin’ at the table
There’ll be time enough for countin’
When the dealing’s done

You got to know when to hold ’em
Know when to fold ’em
Know when to walk away
And know when to run
You never count your money
When you’re sittin’ at the table
There’ll be time enough for countin’
When the dealing’s done

© 1978 Don Schlitz

A Fond Goodnight to An Interesting Day!

I spent almost the entire day working on In the Shadow of Narcissa, trying to outline it, actually. Sort of “do the math” on it. It covers my childhood in 3 houses, over the space of 9 years, and I want it to be less than 40 pages.

So it seems like there could be a tidy math equation in there that could help me structure it.

I’m still a bit stymied, but I think I’m at least focused in the right direction. I’m feeling like I’d like to get that book finished and start circulating it with publishers by late Spring.

Well, okay.

Here in Ohio, the virus has ballooned to 247  confirmed cases today. Most of them seem to be in the northern part of the State, or concentrated in nursing homes. 3 elderly people have died –aged between 76 – 91.  If you don’t live in America and don’t know Ohio, it is densely populated — about 11.75 million people live here (although almost no one lives in Crazeysburg).  And even though there is a lot of farmland in the State, just a heck of a lot of people live in the main cities (i.e., Cleveland, Cincinnati, Columbus). And each city has (or had until recently) a busy international airport.

I’m hoping my dad won’t go out now for a few days. He has people to buy him groceries so he shouldn’t need to go out. But he is going really stir crazy. It just feels like the virus is peaking now, though, and he is almost 90.

This evening, I started watching a new version of Agatha Christie’s The Pale Horse (BBC).  For some reason, it got bad reviews, but I’m really loving it. It’s nothing at all like the original but I think it’s really fun. And the acting, of course, is through the roof. As it usually is on all these BBC whodunits. (And a lush budget, of course — the cars, the costumes, the sets!). It’s a nice way to pass the evening.

I cannot remember now why I was thinking about this, but earlier today I was thinking about that song called “Sodomy,” from the Broadway musical Hair. It’s a really short song but it’s full of nothing but dirty words. When I was 8 years old, I knew that song (and almost all the songs from Hair) by heart. I had no clue what any of those songs meant, although my brother seemed to know. (My older brother and I played that record all the time and for some weird reason, our mom let us.)

(It’s so strange, when you think of how intolerant she was about so many things, but never about art or theater or science.)

Well, today,  it struck me as really amusing that I would sing that song at such a young age, even though I had no clue what any of the words meant. Not at all. I was just singing the sounds of the words, you know? I liked how the words sounded. But I must have sounded just hysterically funny to any adults who might have overheard me. I mean, I was 8, with long brown hair, my little stretchy hairband, big brown eyes. Little saddle shoes, knee socks. The works. And I had one of those high soprano voices and I would sing my heart out!

I eventually re-discovered that song in my teens and by then, I knew what all those words meant and I almost died when I realized what the song was about.

Anyway, I have no idea why I was remembering that today, but I was.  Clearly, I was destined from birth to fill up my entire life with dirty words.

Okay! I finished that poetry book I bought recently — the award-winning chapbook I mentioned, where the poet had written the best inscription ever. Anyway, it’s really good. It’s called Acadiana, by Nancy Reddy.  

It is inspired by folklore and hurricanes in Louisiana, so it’s intense. And it has some incredible imagery involving the folklore of girls  that I just loved, even though a lot of it was sort of starkly merciless and maybe emotionally brutal? Not sure if that’s the right word. But I really liked it.

(Actually, the imagery often reminded me of Nick Cave’s novel, And the Ass Saw the Angel, except that Acadiana is only about 29 pages.)

All righty! So that’s Day 7 for me in quarantine.  We’ll see what tomorrow brings, right? Have a good night, gang, wherever you are in the world!! Sleep tight. I love you guys.


Sodomy, Fellatio, Cunnilingus, Pederasty
Father, why do these words sound so nasty?
Masturbation can be fun
Join the holy orgy Kama Sutra

© – 1968 Galt McDermot, Gerome Ragni, James Rado

You’d think she’d just dig the fuck outta this…

This idea that the entire Universe is forcing me to stay home and write, you know? You’d think I’d just fucking love that.

And in a way, I do. Because, thankfully, I’m really healthy. Although yesterday, when we had that brief burst of mild Spring weather and I was able to open a couple of windows — man, that fresh air felt so incredible. I really, really miss the fresh air.

But I do really enjoy being alone. And writing. (Although, I would of course prefer being with that guy I’m totally trying not to love, but since that’s utterly impossible — just more impossible than you can possibly imagine — I just enjoy the fuck out of being alone…) (grumble grumble grumble)

But the sameness of the days is getting sort of weird. A little too “Groundhog Day”-ish, you know? Except for the fraction of a second that I interacted with the gals at the pizzeria, and the few moments standing 6 feet away from the guys at the Granville Inn — aside from that, I’ve been alone in here for 168 hours.

Thankfully, I talk to Peitor a lot. Or we text (constantly). We get a lot of creative stuff accomplished, which feels so great.  Other than that, though, I don’t really interact with anyone. I call my dad every day because he’s getting depressed. Not only is he on lockdown, too, but he doesn’t actually enjoy being alone, and, it’s been raining a lot where he lives so he can’t even get outdoors and take a walk.

Aside from that, he’s still grieving the death of his wife of 35 years. She’s only been gone 2 months now. And even though my dad and I have not had the best relationship during my adulthood, by any stretch of the imagination, even I knew that he had a really happy 3rd marriage. My stepmom was just the best.  They loved each other so much. And she was the easiest person to be around. One of those rare women that you just enjoy being in the same room with — and you really noticed it when she left a room. She had such uplifting, delighted, joyful energy all the time.

So with or without the quarantine, my dad no longer has that wonderful energy in his life. Now all he has is the TV.  And it’s on constantly — always on the news. Every time I call him, I have to say, “Dad, turn off the news. It’s depressing you.” Of course, he doesn’t do it, but I still feel it’s my sworn duty, you know, to tell him to do that every single darn day.

(I’m guessing that the minute we hang up the phone, he’s saying “You’re not the boss of me.” And he’s turning the volume on the news right back up!!)

But anyway. That’s my day. Peitor and/or my dad. Then I eat endless vegetables — so boring. I’ve already “ice-creamed” myself out — totally not interested in the ice cream anymore. So it’s back to eating really healthy stuff. Doing my yoga and my Booty Core, so that I can feel and look great during my endless days of living in captivity all by myself. And I still meditate and keep my endless little journals, so that my mind doesn’t completely unravel.

And then, you know, I sit down at my desk and write. In so many ways, that seems like heaven — so how come it doesn’t feel like heaven? Hmmm……

Oh — I did want to thank you guys for buying my books yesterday and during the night.  Seriously. I actually do appreciate it, even though you steadfastly refused to be led in the direction of my more literary pursuits — i.e. Twilight of the Immortal. I still really do appreciate that the old erotica still sells. (It will remain on sale for the next 4 weeks on Smashwords only.) (See yesterday morning’s post.)

But I do want to point out something, and I have no qualms whatsoever comparing that specific novel (Twilight of the Immortal) to F. Scott Fitzgerald. I honestly don’t. I know it’s a really well written book (that a lot of publishers also loved but they did not love the fact that there were so many lesbians in it & I was not willing to delete them from history). Still, I’ll point out that when F. Scott Fitzgerald died, you could not buy a copy of The Great Gatsby in any bookstore. Nobody wanted to read it.  (And, frankly, it is my favorite novel of all time.) And now, almost 100 years after it was written, it is not only considered a masterpiece of 20th Century American literature, but right now, today, it is ranked at #5 on Amazon’s Classic Literature list, and ranked #131 in all books.

All books. Do you know what that means? Can you even estimate how many books are being sold on Amazon right now — and that nearly 100-year-old book, which at one point, while he was still alive, nobody wanted to buy, is ranked at #131 amid those millions of titles?

Image result for the great gatsby cover art

I’m just saying. Your great-grandchildren will be more than happy to buy my lonely little book, let alone get it for free! Even though it doesn’t have a ton of sex in it… (And you’ll be stuck up there in Heaven — with any luck, that is, because it’s getting dicier with all that porn you’re reading — but anyway, you’ll be stuck up there just listening to harps and stuff!)

All righty!!!!

So here’s good news. The numbers, while increasing for now, are still encouraging. Close to 94,000 recoveries from the virus as of today (3/21/2020). About 179,000 known cases worldwide, and about 171,000 of those cases are considered mild.

And some other good news — because of all this quarantine stuff, that portion of my bathroom ceiling that collapsed yesterday because of all that sudden rain? I get to just ignore it for now because no way on Earth is anyone going to be able to come out here and fix it yet.

I love, love, love ignoring needed home repairs!! It is one of my very favorite things to do! And usually it bothers my conscience when I’m doing it, but not this time!! Yay!







Okay, guys. I guess that’s it for today.  I’m guessing that Nick Cave is out there, quarantined somewhere, too, and yet still wearing a suit and having some sort of a conversation!!! Alas, we don’t know for sure. It’s just an educated guess. (Yes, life’s getting a little boring here in my room.) Oh, I’ve started streaming re-runs of the British Crime Drama, DCI Banks in the evening. So that’s fun. And I did eventually finish watching Ken Burns’ Jazz documentary — man, was that good. If you like jazz and you haven’t seen that show, it’s totally something to watch. It’s about 20 hours, but still worth every moment.

All righty. Thanks for visiting! Wash your hands and stop touching your face already. Life is good. The world is beautiful. I love you and I feel certain that a whole lot of other people do, too! See ya, gang!!

“In My Room”

There’s a world where I can go and tell my secrets to
In my room, in my room
In this world I lock out all my worries and my fears
In my room, in my room

Do my dreaming and my scheming
Lie awake and pray
Do my crying and my sighing
Laugh at yesterday

Now it’s dark and I’m alone
But I won’t be afraid
In my room, in my room
In my room, in my room
In my room, in my room

© – 1963 Brian Wilson, Gary Usher

Dear Diary, People Just Crack Me Up…

Okay, you guys.  You honestly make me laugh — I’m not being facetious, either.

Even  bludgeoning you with free literary stuff does not deter your desire for  — I don’t know, what should we call it: porn? (I hate to call it porn.)

Anyway. You continue to avoid free downloads of Twilight of the Immortal like a plague, and still go straight for the (intensely old already) early erotica and Freak Parade — at 60% off. (See this morning’s post.)

Honestly, when I saw that, it just made me laugh. I tried so darn hard to entice you! But it’s all good — because I wrote all of it.

Anyway. The BIG news is:

Peitor and I finally finished the script for “Lita måste gå!” (aka “Lita’s Got to Go!”). I am so serious!! It’s done!

It comes to 19 and a half pages, and will run between 8 to 10 minutes, and took us 15 months to write. But it is done. And I think it’s going to be beautiful and confounding and absurd.

And I hate to have to admit that I got a little testy toward the end there today, but I did. And I really, really tried hard not to go in that direction, but there was a shot toward the end that I really wanted — that we’d discussed last year sometime — and it looked like it was going to bite the dust.

I don’t usually get adamant about any of the shots. But once in a blue moon, a shot will just feel really important to me.  So at least for now, it’s in the script. It might not actually work on film, but we’ll see.

And in the meantime, it is done!!

So next, we do the synopsis and then the pitch deck, and then we wait for the entire world to come out of quarantine…

I’m still working on the new web site. The basics are there, but a lot of the actual information has to be typed in. So it’s still kind of on schedule, even though there’s no urgency right now, because of the virus.

New topic.

Luckily, today it rained really, really hard for quite an extended period and when I went into my downstairs bathroom, I discovered a good deal of the ceiling down on the floor. Along with a great big bunch of water.

Stellar homeowner that I am, I went straight to the cats and told them to fix it…  It quickly descended into chaos so I might have to fix it myself. We’ll see.


I’m gonna go get on zoom now and listen to those new plays on Fresh Ink, coming out of Toronto, Canada. Have a wonderful Friday night, wherever you are in the world, gang, okay? I love you guys. See ya!

Me, getting testy…

Yeah, Baby! Spring!!

Happy first day of Spring, gang!

Here, it is raining –we even had a bona fide thunderstorm during the night. The temperature is supposed to go up to nearly 70 degrees Fahrenheit by this afternoon — and then plunge down to about 28 degrees by tomorrow morning!!

So, yeah. Spring.

But I’m happy!

Before I forget, in honor of everyone being stuck at home all over the world,  I’m participating in a month-long special sale at Smashwords. All of my Muse Revisited titles are 60% off. So is Freak Parade. And Twilight of the Immortal is absolutely free!

But you have to purchase them through Smashwords to get the discount, not Amazon or iTunes, or any of the other outlets that sell my eBooks. However, Smashwords gives you the option to download the eBook in any format you need.

I chose to make Twilight of the Immortal free because it is probably the best book I’ve ever written, but because it isn’t erotica, almost no one buys it. I honestly think I’ve sold less than 1000 copies of this novel. And it’s been in print since 2010 (it came out first on a very small press, then I got the rights back and published it myself electronically because the publisher had filled it with typos that enraged me.)

But anyway, it’s been in print for 10 years now and no one buys it and it’s a great book, but it’s not erotic. No explicit anal sex or fellatio or anything — although anal sex and fellatio are heavily implied in many passages…

For instance:

After Valentino has died (at the peak of his fame), Rosemary, the novel’s protagonist, returns to Hollywood to marry her best friend, Mitch.  Mitch is a very successful movie producer but he is notoriously gay in an era when it is still illegal to be gay and the Government is cracking down on any suspiciously single men employed by the movie studios (this is fact). Rosemary recalls the final days she spent with Rudolph Valentino, after his notorious divorce, while she was employed as his “assistant”:

I drank the champagne down. The bubbles seeped into my veins and made tiny explosions all up and down my spine. Rodolfo; it was the name he’d been born with, that he preferred to the Americanized “Rudolph.” The moment had finally come where he’d told me to call him Rodolfo and so I did. He whispered in Italian, “Abbi coraggio.” Then more closely, right in my ear because now we were in bed together, naked, he said, “Be brave.” It had sounded so tender, so bewitching, and so erotically compelling that I could not resist him; I leaned down in the dark and did what I’d seen the boys do. In truth, I’d had no idea what I was doing and I didn’t care. I didn’t want to resist him; I was so glad that Natacha was gone, at last. I knew life was spiraling downward; I couldn’t ignore the hypnotic pull of his private hell. I was trapped in it, too, like it was quicksand. He was miserable, lonely, aching without her. I was clumsy but I tried to fill the space. Mostly there were men everywhere filling up his nights and days, not just with erotic favors but with polo, endless games of it; Rudy loved his horses. And there was also Pola Negri, but she was only acting a part and grasping at more and more fame, ensuring she was on Rudy’s arm whenever the cameras came out. I wasn’t competing with her; a rising star. I wasn’t competing with anybody. I just wanted my moment in the sun. His sun — I wanted to bask in his attention finally. But I overplayed my hand and, for me, the sun only shone after midnight when the lights were out, when the decent world was dark and the house was otherwise empty.

Or here, where Rosemary’s soon-to-be (gay) husband is informing his lover, Jim, that he’s being tossed to the curb because, in order to save his career, Mitch is marrying Rosemary:

The raised voices on the patio grew more heated. I tried to focus on the golden bubbles bursting at the rim of my wine glass and block out what the voices were saying, but it was next to impossible. “How convenient,” Jim practically shrieked, as if to doubly-ensure I could hear him. “A girl like that is almost as good as the real thing, isn’t she, Mitch? Everyone knows it — what she was up to with Valentino. It was all over Hollywood. With a girl like her, just turn out the lights and you’ll never notice the difference.”

So, yeah, there’s anal sex in the novel, too, but it’s not explicit at all.

There’s tons of lesbian sex in it, too, although back then they were called Saphhists. A lot of those scenes are between the young Rosemary and the true love of her life, the very poor, very abused, very worldly, very Irish Molly McClellan, who works as a Dresser for  Alla Nazimova, who was called “Madame” (and who, in case you don’t know the name, was, at one point, one of the most famous actresses in the world and a totally “out” lesbian):

Molly waited expectantly for me to finish what I was saying, but I knew I was lying, or at the very least embellishing what had happened. “Go on,” she encouraged me. “Spill it; what did she tell you?”

“Nothing, just that… I don’t know — someday.”

“Ah, go on, Rosie. She’s practically thirty-eight; you’re just a kid.”

“Not anymore I’m not,” I warned her. “I’ve done things now.”

“Oh, and what have you done?”


“I mean, that a woman like Madame would like?  Have you been to the lady doctors yet?”

“What lady doctors?”

“The midwives down on Broadway.”

“Why would I go to a midwife? I’m not having a baby.”

“It’s not for girls who are having babies, you ninny who thinks she knows everything. It’s a code word. These midwives cure hysteria; they do things to you with their hands. Things you wouldn’t believe.”

“Like what?”

“They pull up your skirt and take down your drawers, for one thing, and they touch you down there and make you feel things with their hands — until your eyes roll up in your head.”

She had my attention there; that was certain. I’d never been anywhere where a midwife had done a thing like that to me. “Oh, I don’t believe you,” I said.

“What’s not to believe? How do you think I learned what I know? How do you think I make Madame so happy with me?”

“Well, then I’ll go, too. I’ll learn.”

“You can’t. They don’t just let you in. I knew a woman who worked at one of those places, so I got in. Besides, you’re not old enough, so just give up your dreaming.”

“I’m going to be eighteen soon.”

“And when might that be?” Naked now, Molly slipped under the bed covers; apparently she wasn’t going to wear a nightgown.

“Summer,” I said.

“Summer?” She laughed at me again. “That’s, like, years away.”

“Well, what of it? Regardless, I’m not a kid anymore.”

“You mean because you’ve done it with a man? That makes you grown?”

“Yes,” I said bravely, knowing we were inching onto a topic I didn’t want to discuss with her.

“Boy, have you got a lot to learn. Come on ‘old lady’; turn off the lamp, why don’t you, and come to bed.”

I was annoyed with her; she knew everything it seemed. Still, I was freezing and wanted the warmth of the bed. From somewhere downstairs, I could hear the Victrola playing. I slid under the heavy eiderdown next to Molly and said quietly, “Aren’t they ever going to go home?”

“Better get used to it, is what I’m thinking. Some nights, Madame and her friends don’t go to sleep at all. It’s mostly those actresses she knows; they never sleep.”

“They’re awfully loud. I can hear that music all the way up here.”

“That’s because they’re right underneath us — they’re in Madame’s bedroom now. And when the Victrola winds down, you can hear other things.”

“What other things?” I whispered, snuggling close to her mostly because I was still so cold.

“Guess,” she said slyly.

“Oh no,” I said. “We’re going to have to listen to that?”

“We could always drown them out, you know — go at it like a couple of alley cats ourselves.” She worked her hand up under my flannel nightgown. I was still annoyed with her, but for the time being, I let her do it. “How does that sound, Rosie; want to give it a go?”

I didn’t answer her. I was too entranced by her fingers…

Plus, the novel is 600 pages long — however, if you want something to just get lost in until the quarantine is lifted, then this book could help you do that. And even though it is many pages, most people say that the book is hard to put down. Especially once Rosemary — our heroine — gets to Hollywood in 1918 and eventually starts working for Mr. & Mrs. Rudolph Valentino. Then the book races almost unstoppably to its tragic (but sort of uplifting) end.

Most people who take the time to read this book, end up loving it. However, if you are one of those few people left in the world who honestly believed that Rudolph Valentino was heterosexual, then you will despise this book.

I researched all of it as best I could, hampered by it being nearly 100 years after the fact, and came to my own decision that when Valentino fell for a woman, he fell hard — and she was always a very worldly and beautiful woman, and usually very destructive to his reputation and his career. And when he wasn’t in love with a woman, he hung out exclusively with groups of men who were known in Hollywood to be homosexuals.

So, you know, you do the math. (Today, he would probably be called non-binary.)

A couple of reader reviews to gently bludgeon you over the head with how good this novel is:

“As soon as I read this quote attributed to Valentino: ‘Observe, Rosemary, how in Hollywood there is no difference between a knife and a smile,’ I knew for sure that I had found a gem! Twilight of the Immortal is both beautifully written and an engaging romp… Marilyn Jaye Lewis captures Valentino’s essence, the allure that endeared him to millions of fans. There is not one false step in this book. All the details are meticulously researched … I give it five stars!”

“Unlike her previous books, this is NOT erotica! This is a serious novel that should be enjoyed by the general public. The story is captivating. The characters are very strong and the book is hard to put down.”

And the eBook is free at Smashwords for the next month.


Another thing that might of interest during your quarantine — Soulpepper Theater Co in Toronto is hosting a live webcast of playwrights reading their newest plays. The program is called Fresh Ink, and you can listen free, online, 4:30 PM today, Eastern (NY) time. Visit here and listen for free. (You will need to download Zoom at the link.)

All righty!!

I actually have to work with Peitor this morning on Abstract Absurdity Productions stuff, so I’m gonna scoot! I hope you’re able to make the best of your house arrest, wherever you are in the world. Thanks for visiting, gang! I might come back later and do a real — non-promotional sort of post. God knows, I’ll be here! Okay. I love you guys. See ya!

Valentino sees his wife, Natacha, off at the Los Angeles train station. However, they are merely posing for press photographers here. In truth, unknown to the world yet, they are divorcing and this will be the final time they lay eyes on each other. Valentino will die soon after the divorce, at the age of 31. In this photo, the incredibly famous husband & wife pair despise each other, but you’d never know it. Such is fame & Hollywood…