Tag Archives: Cave Things

Yes, I’m Happy

Even though, for some indecipherable reason, I woke up feeling really sad this morning — even to the point of suddenly crying at the kitchen table during breakfast. I don’t think the tears had anything to do with listening to old hillbilly music, but I guess you never really know for sure. (I turned off the music, just in case.)

I slept a lot — straight through from something strange, like, 9pm last night to 5am this morning (I usually only need 5 or 6 hours of sleep). And, at some point, I even had a dream that I had already gotten up and gotten breakfast and gone back to bed so there was no reason to get up. (Weird.)

Anyway. Apparently, I was not in a big hurry for today to get here.

However, that said. Things really are okay here. So I don’t know why I was so sad. I’ve basically signed the contract for “Half-Moon Bride” with the new publisher! Yay!

And I made really unexpected progress with the new erotic novella, 1954 Powder Blue Pickup, yesterday — and by “strange” I mean that it went off into this whole unexpected storyline. To the point where, as I was writing it, I was also thinking: Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me, seriously?

But I’m still really happy with it, however, the work I need to tackle on it today will require really intense focusing (a good old 1950s-style gangbang, which was not the unexpected part).  But it will be intense, nonetheless. (So, you know, you probably shouldn’t drop by unannounced today, wanting to just hang out with me…) (As if you ever do!) (I have had TWO visitors since March… two, in six months.) (Yes, I’m aware that there’s been a pandemic that whole time, but, honestly, how long are you going to keep using that as your fall-back line?? None of us here in Crazeysburg have the virus, okay??)

Anyway!!

Early this morning on Instagram, there was a post sent out by Cave Things.  It was a very short video of Nick Cave working at his insanely cluttered desk — but you could only see his hands. And I thought it was amusing that he clearly had on a very nice suit, and he had all his gold rings on, but was working at this ridiculously cluttered desk.

Whereas, I have actually a very tidy desk while I’m working (because everything gets dumped on the floor first thing in the morning, then placed back on the desk in heaps when I’m done working at night.)

Still, I need a very tidy desk, or I can’t think straight. Yet I wear the sloppiest clothes you can imagine. Because I simply cannot feel encumbered by anything while I’m writing — and no jewelry, either. I can’t stand to have rings or even a bracelet on when I’m typing. I am always wearing some sort of really baggy tee shirt, and either baggy cargo shorts in summer, or a pair of baggy men’s lounge pants the rest of the year, and nothing on underneath any of that because I absolutely cannot stand to feel constricted in any way, and I am always barefoot at my desk because I can’t even stand to feel like my feet are constrained while I’m writing. (My flip-flops stay neatly at the side of my desk because I put them back on the absolute minute I stand up from my chair…)

I know! It’s almost like I’m neurotic, or something — right??

And add to that vision of loveliness the unlit, unfiltered cigarette that is always dangling from my mouth now whenever I’m at my desk… and the very real fact that I almost never remember to even comb my hair. Although I do brush my teeth twice a day!! But I usually also forget to wash my hair because I’m always in such a big hurry to get out of the shower and be neurotic about something…

Anyway. I did think that little video of Nick Cave’s hands was really cool!

Okay.

A mini-update regarding the print edition of The Guitar Hero Goes Home. Valerie is still trying to get the cover art to behave. And until that gets fixed, I have not fixed the formatting issue I’m having with the printed text, because I want to upload it all at once. You can still read it just fine, I’m just not 100% happy with the layout (it makes me insane, actually). But the eBook version is completely fine.  So there are no problems with that. (There was one typo that I fixed last week.)

Anyway. It’s frustrating. But ever-onward we go.

And then yesterday, I got an email from the director of my play (Tell My Bones), wherein  he was giving me the link to share in the dropbox that all the various technical director/ producer type people were already sharing in as they do all the necessary work to get the staged reading of my play ready to go.

Well. I was stunned. Literally. Because I had absolutely no clue that all this WORK was already well underway, involving all these professional theater people. I honestly was totally overwhelmed. WTF, right? How long has this been going on? While I’m here at my desk, thoroughly unconstrained by everything imaginable and spending hours and hours and hours and days and days and days writing incredibly intense erotica…

It was a very weird feeling.

Okay, it looks like a pretty day here today, but it’s heading down into the low 40s Fahrenheit tonight and for the next few nights, so the houseplants are coming indoors for the season and I have to once again create that literary barrier between the palm tree and the cats.

Literary barrier awaiting the houseplants!

Meaning, that I have to stack books as precariously as possible all around the palm tree so that the cats get scared away from trying to eat the palm leaves and thus absolutely ruining the poor tree.

It just feels like it’s too early to be doing all this, but I guess it is what it is this year. And on we go.

Okay. I’m going to get started here today. Have a nice Friday wherever you are in the world!! And enjoy whatever you’re wearing and enjoy whatever you’re doing!! I will endeavor to get my mood on a more even keel and try to have a good day here, as well. Meanwhile, I leave you with this morning’s breakfast-listening sad hillbilly music! Stonewall Jackson’s huge Country hit from 1962, “Leona.” (I  just fucking LOVE the piano on this song — if it doesn’t make you want to drink and smoke, I don’t know what will.) So, then. All righty, thanks for visiting, gang!! I love you guys. See ya.

Leona

Leona, Leona,
You tell him you’re through
You tell him, Leona, about me and you
You tell him we’re married with a baby of two
You tell him, Leona,
You tell him you’re through.

You laughed as I pleaded, and walked out the door
To meet him, to kiss him, to shame me once more
I knew where to find you
Just follow the sign:
Dancing and dining, cocktails and wine

The sidewalk was crowded in front of the bar
I heard the sirens of the black police car
Two bodies lay crumpled, a woman, a man
His wife stood there by you,
A gun in her hand

Leona, Leona,
It’s over and through
The baby is crying and calling for you
For me there’s no difference
I knew for so long
That some day you’d leave me
And now you are gone

© 1962 Cindy Walker

A Fine September Saturday Underway in Crazeysburg!

What a difference a day makes, as they say.

Everything in my life looks sort of perfect right now, so I’m just going to focus on writing the new story today, and accept this gorgeous weather we have right this minute, even though by evening, we’re supposed to get thunderstorms again.

And I’ve already brought all the plants further onto the porch so that no unexpected winds come along this time and start blowing them all over the place. (My palm tree is actually doing just fine and doesn’t seem to be at all traumatized from having been blown down under the hydrangea bush and having laid like that for hours before I discovered it.)

I had to go into to town briefly yesterday, but other than that, I got a lot of work done on the new short story, “1954 Powder Blue Pickup”. I’m not sure if I will keep posting excerpts to the blog or not — last night’s excerpt might be the last one that will be tame enough for the blog. I guess we’ll see. But I’m really having so much fun with it.

And then when I was done writing for the day, I did what I have been doing a lot of lately — watching episodes of the old TV show The Monkees on YouTube!! The Monkees was probably my favorite TV show from the years when I was 6 to 8 years old. Watching the reruns just takes me right back there to Cleveland in the 1960s — even though now I’m not only watching it “in living color”, but also on a tiny iPhone screen. Who would have ever guessed, right?

BTW, The Monkees were not on NBC. They were on ABC… But that little NBC promo is completely burned into my brain from childhood.

And also, watching the old reruns now makes me see that I had absolutely no clue what most of the (ridiculous) humor was about when I was little, I just loved watching the show. Plus I really, really loved their songs.

This episode below  — “The Paris Show” — is probably their most iconic, although not my favorite, by any stretch. It was shot on location in Paris in 1968. I preferred it when they just stayed in their weird apartment in LA.

This TV series was aired back in that era where a show would turn out to be a huge hit for kids on a weekday evening, so then they’d also show it on Saturday mornings.  I watched it whenever I possibly could. I just loved that show.

And even though I don’t actually pay close attention to it when I watch it nowadays — I usually play solitaire on my iPad at the same time and try to figure out my life! But just having it on calms me down and makes me feel really happy. And it’s not so much “nostalgia” for me — I actually feel really happy that those days are over. Even though I loved that show, that era of my childhood in Cleveland was when my adoptive mother was really coming unglued. My life was almost constant anxiety back then.

So I guess I’m sort of celebrating now — watching the show, knowing that  I’m not in any sort of weird prison anymore. My childhood is over. Yay.

So. Yesterday, on Instagram, Cave Things posted a photo of Nick Cave’s (EVIL) desk!! I just love this!!

I am at long last, learning how to copy other people’s photos from Instagram.

Okay. So I’m gonna get started here! I hope you have a great Saturday underway, wherever you are in the world!! Even though there are quite a few songs that The Monkees recorded that I still really love, this could be my favorite– their version of Neil Diamond’s song, “I’m A Believer.” The Monkees actually had a hit with this song on the AM radio back then. I leave it with you today! Play it loud. It is a super happy song!! All righty. Thanks for visiting, gang. I love you guys. See ya!

“I’m A Believer”

I thought love was only true in fairy tales
Meant for someone else, but not for me
Love was out to get me
That’s the way it seemed
Disappointment haunted all my dreams

Then I saw her face, now I’m a believer
Not a trace of doubt in my mind
I’m in love and I’m a believer
I couldn’t leave her if I tried

I thought love was more or less a giving thing
Seems the more I gave, the less I got
What’s the use in trying, all you get is pain
When I needed sunshine, I got rain

Then I saw her face, now I’m a believer
Not a trace of doubt in my mind
I’m in love and I’m a believer
I couldn’t leave her if I tried

Love was out to get me
That’s the way it seemed
Disappointment haunted all my dreams

Then I saw her face, now I’m a believer
Not a trace of doubt in my mind
I’m in love and I’m a believer
I couldn’t leave her if I tried
Saw her face, now I’m a believer
Not a trace of doubt in my mind
I’m in love, and I’m a believer

© 1966 Neil Diamond

Best Laid Plans of Mice, Men, Cats, etc.

Well, today did not go anywhere near as planned, so I am posting this tonight, and it will serve as tomorrow morning’s post, gang.

I really want to be able to get started first thing tomorrow morning on “Half-Moon Bride” and see if there’ s any chance whatsoever that I can get it completed tomorrow, or at least very close to completed. Mainly, I just want to be able to get this story off to that new publisher and see if my upcoming erotic stories are going to be a good fit for them or not, so that I can re-direct my publishing focus, if possible.

Today was intense. It started out seeming like a perfect day — everything seemed perfectly suited for just sitting at my desk and writing — including the amazing weather.  Loyal readers of this lofty blog are no doubt intensely aware that I’m trying to write the final “anal sex scene extravaganza” and then the (rather long) short story will finally be done.

But now it turns out that my 90-year-old father is having severe prostate problems again and has to go into the hospital next week for more tests and to see if he needs more surgery. And suddenly, this intense anal sex scene between two hermaphrodites that was in front of me on my laptop is blown right out of the water and all I can think about for the remainder of the day is my 90-year-old dad’s prostate.

Try as I did, I could not get that vision out of my darn head. I could not write anything anally erotic at all.

I even tried looking at pornhub and motherless.com, to see if maybe I could you know, get in the mood or something, and everything suddenly looked absolutely disgusting to me. Not a feeling I generally have regarding porn.

So I went outside and took a walk. I tended to my petunias. I vacuumed the house again. I finally watched the end of Miss Fisher and the Crypt of Tears on Acorn TV.  Nothing could re-direct my focus. So I finally gave up.

I’m hoping that by tomorrow, my thoughts will be my own again and I can get back on track here.

But it is indeed a truly lovely evening here tonight. I sat out on my kitchen porch for quite awhile and I thought, well, maybe the blond boy will drive by on his motorcycle, and I can see him sort of up close rather than just from my upstairs window — and the very moment I thought that, he walked right past me! Right past my porch. He wasn’t on his motorcycle.

And I figured that since it’s a Friday night on a holiday weekend and he’s a teenager, he’s probably heading to some sort of party/gathering where everyone is drinking beer and smoking weed around a bonfire — and he doesn’t want to risk fucking up his motorcycle. So I thought that was pretty cool. (And I also thought it was pretty cool that the very moment I thought of him, he was suddenly standing right in front of me…)

So that was my big entertaining event here in Crazeysburg this evening!

Now I’m going to find an old movie to watch (Cary Grant and Grace Kelly in Hitchcock’s To Catch A Thief is looming large in my queue, even though I’ve seen it many, many times. I just love it! The French Riviera, the fashions, the sexy rapport between Grant & Kelly…) (If that doesn’t make me stop thinking about my dad’s prostate I’m guessing that nothing will!)

to-catch-a-thief-grace-kelly-cary-grant-1 - Reel Life With Jane

Okay, well, I hope that you have a great Friday night if you’re reading this early — or a terrific Saturday if you’re reading this tomorrow! I was thinking some more about that new Nick Cave tee shirt on Cave Things (see my post from earlier today) and it struck me as really cute that the tee shirt says “don’t touch me” but the spider on the tee shirt is made of felt and sort of calling out to be touched. And apparently, the drawing of the spider is based on an actual tarantula trapped in amber that he owns, and of course the line “don’t touch me” is a lyric from his song “Girl in Amber.” So, well, that’s one of the many things I was thinking about while trying to not think about other things that I was thinking about today!

And that’s a round about way of saying that I’m leaving you with “Girl in Amber” from Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds’ Skeleton Tree album from 2016. I think I’ve posted it here before, but this is the version from the Live in Copenhagen movie, not the official video. It’s a really beautiful song, and even while I don’t completely understand it, I identify with it very intensely, for some reason. Okay, so enjoy! And have a great Saturday. Thanks for visiting. I love you guys! See ya.

“Girl In Amber”

Some go and some stay behind
Some never move at all
Girl in amber trapped forever, spinning down the hall
Let no part of her go unremembered, clothes across the floor
Girl in amber, long to slumber, shuts the bathroom door
The phone, the phone, the phone it rings, it rings, it rings no more
The song, the song, the song it spins since nineteen eighty-four
The phone, the phone, the phone, it rings, the phone, it rings no more
The song, the song it’s been spinning now since nineteen

And if you want to bleed, just bleed
And if you want to bleed, just bleed
And if you want to bleed, don’t breathe a word
Just step away and let the world spin

And now in turn, you turn
You kneel, lace up his shoes, your little blue-eyed boy
Take him by his hand, go move and spin him down the hall
I get lucky, I get lucky cause I tried again
I knew the world it would stop spinning now since you’ve been gone
I used to think that when you died you kind of wandered the world
In a slumber til your crumble were absorbed into the earth
Well, I don’t think that any more the phone it rings no more
The song, the song it spins now since nineteen eighty-four
The song, the song, the song it spins, it’s been a spinning now
And if you’ll hold me I will tell you that you know that

And if you want to leave, don’t breathe
And if you want to leave, don’t breathe
And if you want to leave, don’t breathe a word
And let the world turn

The song, the song it spins, the song, it spins, it spins no more
The phone, it rings, it rings and you won’t stay

Don’t touch me
Don’t touch me
Don’t touch me
Don’t touch me

© 2016 Nick Cave, Warren Ellis

Pornographers Hard at Work!!

I am of course just kidding ! Clearly, those are cats having tea at the club!

These are, in fact, pornographers hard at work:

Lighting Department stenographers, 1935 | Item 9929, Enginee… | Flickr

Anyway!!!!!

Yes, well, I hate to label what I write as “pornography,” try as most people have done, over the decades, to get me to see it that way.  I still call it “literary erotica.”

However, that said,  “Half-Moon Bride,” my new erotic short story that is inching ever closer to completion,  is probably leaning way over to the pornographic side of any “erotica” I’ve ever written.

I just cracks me up, gang. The story is just so intensely intense. And there is just no story arc whatsoever — unless you consider going from “being a virgin to being absolutely in no way whatsoever a virgin” a story “arc”…

However, even if I say so myself, it is very well written!

Yesterday, as I sort of paved the literary way for the grand “anal sex” finale of the story, I spent no less than 8 hours writing and re-writing and re-writing yet again, the 2 pages that lead up to the beginning of the anal sex stuff. It’s just unreal. It’s like this story is never going to end. Everything is so tightly focused.  (I’m already at 22 pages, 13,000 words, and except for some plot set-up on the first page, the entire thing is sex.  The entire thing. There’s next to no dialogue. No exposition. Very little to explain the setting — of course we know that there’s a full moon. And it’s their wedding night. But the rest is just endless, really tightly focused sex.)

Still, I am really having a blast writing this.  I will give up saying that I
“think I am going to finish it today,” because it’s clear that I have absolutely no idea anymore. All I know is that I want to finish as soon as I can because I want to send it off to the new publisher to see if it’s a good fit for them. And then go on to the next story, which is already tumbling around in my head.

On a related note… You might have seen my update last evening regarding The Guitar Hero Goes Home.

It is no longer for sale as an eBook on Smashwords. For now, it is only in Kindle Select, so that means it is part of Kindle Unlimited right now, so you can get it for free as an eBook on Kindle. (Or get it in trade paperback for $9.95.)

Once the 90-day restriction of Kindle Select expires, I will publish it as a global eBook through Lulu.com. The Windows 10 platform is not formatting the ePub file the way Smashwords wants it (they need it based on the 2007 model of Word docs.) And I already tore my hair out trying to learn the Windows 10 platform, and it works just fine on Kindle. So, since I no longer have 2007, which I need in order to format it for Smashwords, I had to simply remove it from there.

All of my other self-published titles are still available as eBooks on Smashwords, but I guess that, until they update their style guide for formatting ePubs with Windows 10, I won’t be publishing any new eBooks on Smashwords .

And you probably also saw by now the photo I took of the boy on his motorcycle zooming past my house yesterday afternoon, on his way home from school.

Well, as luck would have it, after I finally finished working on the short story last evening, I got up from my desk, and was standing in front of the window in my bedroom that faces east, and I saw the boy backing his motorcycle into the garage for the night. So now I know where he lives!  His house is across the street from mine, 5 houses down the street. Which means that the train basically runs through his backyard!

His house is one of those modular homes, which means it’s basically a really big mobile home. No basement, no attic, one-story. But it’s a nice one, and really well maintained. (And this morning, when I got out of bed at 5am, I noticed an incredibly bright star over his house. I’m not kidding. I’m guessing it was a planet or something, it was shining so bright.  I’m not sure which star would have been in the eastern sky and shining so brightly at that hour. Anyway, I thought that was kind of interesting.)

So here’s this teenage boy, just really good-looking, long straight blond hair, growing up in the tiniest town you can imagine, in a trailer home, with a freight train running through his backyard about 5 times a day , and he drives a motorcycle, and he smokes cigarettes, and he seems like just the happiest boy I have ever seen — he is always smiling. I can only imagine that every girl at that high school is in love with him.

And it makes me think that his parents have probably just been really, really good to him.  He just looks to me like somebody who is so loved.

Okay, so, Nick Cave’s Cave Things has a new tee shirt on pre-order. This one seems to be referencing his song “Girl in Amber” (the lyric “don’t touch me”), but with a nice felt spider as a cool accent! You can pre-order it here.

Okay, then!

Well, I guess I’m going to get started here today and see if we can’t move these happy hermaphrodites into some sort of anal sex extravaganza today!! And bring this short story to a close. We shall see. I at least managed to get them out onto the terrace before I quit writing last night. (Yes, they went from the enormous marriage bed, back out to the enormous stone terrace, overlooking the mountainside in the moonlight to have their anal sex — because I’m thinking that’s just how it is, right? We go outside to the terrace to have anal sex on our wedding nights…)

My god. Anyway. So I’m leaving you with a Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds song again today, this one from 1997, “Come into My Sleep,” which is on B-Sides & Rarities (2005). Enjoy it! I hope you have a great Friday, wherever you are in the world — and if you live Stateside, I hope you are gearing up for a great holiday weekend — officially, the last weekend of “summer.” (I’m guessing that a certain boy on his motorcycle will be zooming past my house all weekend long, with it being a holiday and the weather is expected to be absolutely perfect.) Okay. Thanks for visiting, gang. I love you guys. See ya!

“Come Into My Sleep”

Now that mountains of meaningless words
and oceans divide us
And we each have our own set of stars
to comfort and guide us
Come into my sleep
Come into my sleep, oh yeah
Dry your eyes and do not weep
Come into my sleep

Swim to me through the deep blue sea
upon the scattered stars set sail
Fly to me through this love-lit night
from one thousand miles away
And come into my sleep
Come into my sleep oh yeah
As midnight nears and shadows creep
Come into my sleep

Bind my dreams up in your tangled hair
For I am sick at heart, my dear
Bind my dreams up in your tangled hair
For all the sorrow it will pass, my dear

Take your accusation, your recriminations
and toss them into the ocean blue
Leave your regrets and impossible longings
and scatter them across the sky behind you
And come into my sleep
Come into my sleep
For my soul to comfort and keep
Come into my sleep

For my soul to comfort and keep – my sleep

Come on,
Come on,
Come on,
[repeat and fade]<

© 1997 Nick Cave

Another New Adventure in Pussyland!!

Oh jeez, people — you know?

No, I’m still not done with the new erotic short story, but we’re getting there. Yesterday was all about spending 7 hours streamlining a page and a half of text down to one and a half paragraphs.

That kind of thing — it takes forever, it taxes the brain, but it is really worth it once it’s done. But that kind of focusing takes a lot out of me, and while it’s going on, I have to battle with the feeling that the whole story is insane and why am I even writing it?

That kind of unproductive thinking leads nowhere productive.

But “Half-Moon Bride” is just one of those stories that I rarely write , wherein the sole reason it exists is to be erotic. There is only the flimsiest story arc (a wedding night). And the alleged character arc only serves as the vehicle to tell the flimsy story — we have the half-moon bride herself, who is the “female” hermaphrodite because she only grows her male appendage (minus any testicles) on the full moon (a half-moon futanari). Otherwise, she’s entirely female.

Whereas the “male” hermaphrodite, a man of enormous proportions in every imaginable way, completely larger-than-life (the Oracle who lives in the palace up in the mountains — whatever the heck that really means), is what’s called a “full-package futanari” — he has it all, all the time. Fully male, fully female.

So the only “character arc” is for the female, who starts out sheltered, naive, clueless, and virginal in every way. She finds out that she’s not only a half-moon futa, but also who she’s the intended bride of, on the same day.  And then her character makes the fretful but wonderful journey from “naive, clueless and virginal” to a little less naive and clueless, as every imaginable aspect of her virginity is done away with — quite rapturously — on her wedding night. (And I guarantee you, I only wish that either one of my wedding nights had been even a fraction as rapturous as the half-moon bride’s is. Jesus.)

And since these are two hermaphrodites getting married, there is truly an amazing number of ways in which this young woman is a virgin. (And it is my humble job, as the lowly yet often celebrated writer, to unburden her of every single one.)

Anyway, it is really, really fun. And it often makes me laugh, but it is also just filthy as hell, with no real reason for existing except to be filthy as hell.

Although, actually, in reality, the story was “inspired” by the real-life person of Peter Freuchen, who was both a large and larger-than-life Danish explorer in the early-to-mid 20th Century. (You can read about him here — he truly had an amazing life as an anthropologist and an Arctic explorer, starting back in 1906.)

Here he is, with his 3rd wife, a Danish writer and editor for Vogue and Harper’s  fashion magazines. (They met in America in the 1940s.)

An Irving Penn Portrait for the Coldest Days of Winter: “Peter and Dagmar Freuchen” | The New Yorker
Photo by Irving Penn

So you can see the “gigantic proportions” I am referring to. Why I made them hermaphrodites is anyone’s guess. But honestly, you don’t have to be me to look at those two and wonder what certain personal things were like, right??? What the possible challenges were…

So anyway. For some reason, I’m using a sort of archaic and formal language for the story, as well. Which tends to make it even stranger.  (Words like vagina, testicles, rectum, vulva, eventually give way to words like cock and pussy, once she goes from naive to a little less naive in the course of her wedding night.) (She has to stay at least somewhat naive, though, throughout, otherwise the D/s aspects of the story just don’t work.)

And there you have it — the utterly intense and insane world I am steeped in for hours and hours and hours at a time, every day, for something like 10 days running, so far. So I’m sort of exhausted.

Meanwhile, last evening, I went to bed sort of early. Not to sleep, really, just to hang out on the bed, listen to music and collapse. And while I was lying there, the blond guy on the blue motorcycle, zoomed by twice. God, is he lovely — his energy (see yesterday’s post). But it made me feel wistful — thinking of all the things I had hoped would work out in my life, but didn’t. (Primarily, two marriages, no children.)

And for some reason, I had decided to listen to Tom Petty & the Heartbreaker’s Live Anthology (2009) while hanging out on my bed.  When I drove into town yesterday morning, I was listening to the live version of “Learning to Fly” from off that album and it is just incredibly gorgeous. So I decided to listen to the whole album, while lying in bed as the sun was going down, forgetting that the reason I don’t usually listen to that album, is because 2 summers ago, when I fell in love with the man who died, we listened to Live Anthology constantly while making love.

I guess I don’t have to say that I was suddenly flooded with memories, and then I realized September is upon us, which marks the 2nd anniversary of his death, so I just got really, really, really sad.  Just sobbing for a little while. I miss him so much. And those songs — the music, it just brought it all so vividly back to life.  It just all came out — those things I miss so much that I try never to think about or to dwell on. It all just smacked right into me, and I had not been expecting it at all.

I eventually stopped crying, because I felt like his spirit came into the room. I really did feel it. And I know that I have to figure out some way for the future that is ahead of me, for however long is left — for it to just be okay. That something good could still be waiting for me, somewhere. (Perhaps not a wedding night like the half-moon bride’s, but something comparably rapturous!) And in the meantime, I will simply continue to write.

Beginning, once again, with today.

So, Nick Cave’s Cave Things announced another new “coming soon” product this morning. (And these Polaroid-thingies sell out immediately once they get posted, folks, so if you want one, you should probably just stay poised on the website indefinitely for its release and then immediately hit the purchase button. I don’t remember how much they cost, but they’re not cheap.)

All righty!! So I’m going to get started here. My printer ink arrives today, so that’s pretty darned exciting! I hope you have a terrific Tuesday, wherever it leads you. Thanks for visiting, gang.  I leave you with the live version of  “Have Love, Will Travel” from the Live Anthology and you can fill in your own rapturous boudoir memories, if you so choose!! Enjoy. I love you guys. See ya.

“Have Love, Will Travel”

You never had a chance, did you baby
So good-looking, so insecure
And now you say you can’t remember
When the lines you drew began to blur

Yeah, when all of this is over
Should I lose you in the smoke
I want you to know you were the one

And may my love travel with you everywhere
Yeah, may my love travel with you always

Maggie’s still trying to rope a tornado
Joe’s in the backyard trying to keep things simple
And the lonely dj’s diggin’ a ditch
Trying to keep the flames from the temple

Oh, and if perhaps I lose you
In the smoke down the road
I want you to know you were the one

And may my love travel with you everywhere
Yeah, may my love travel with you always

How about a cheer for all those bad girls
And all the boys that play that rock and roll
They love it like you love Jesus
It does the same thing to their souls

And when all of this is over
Should I lose you in the smoke
I want you to know that it’s all right

And may my love travel with you everywhere
Yeah, may my love travel with you always

© 2002 Tom Petty

Perfect Treadmill Weather!!

Yes, it is the most beautiful Sunday morning here in Crazeysburg, gang. 60 degrees Fahrenheit and sunny!! And going up to 80 by this afternoon!

So I indeed got on the treadmill this morning (see yesterday’s post re: 98% humidity…) and you know what else? The first 2 minutes felt endless, but then suddenly I had actually gone over the allotted time without even knowing it.

With me and this treadmill that is unheard of!! I don’t know if I ever mentioned that not only does the treadmill get you off and running walking at  a brisk and often unwelcome 3.2 miles an hour, but it is also set on a permanent incline, so regardless of anything, you  are always walking slightly uphill. Always. I think that’s the hardest part of this treadmill. Because usually, I really enjoy treadmills. But this one I now have — it just always makes you fucking work.

Anyway! It’s done!!

I forgot to mention the other day that there is another new poster available at CaveThings.com — it is “Ink and Solace,” the image being used for his current exhibit in Copenhagen, including the cover for that great book that is the companion to the exhibit (Stranger Than Kindness). The poster is £10 plus shipping.

You can purchase it here if you so choose!!

Yesterday got us ever closer to completing the new erotic short story, “Half-Moon Bride,” however, I did run out of printer ink and loyal readers of this lofty blog no doubt recall that I hate that! For some reason, it is much easier for me to catch typos, as well as get an overall feel for a page of text, by printing it out.

It’s by no means the end of the world!!! I can still read straight from the computer screen, it just makes me feel unsettled to have to do that. But the ink won’t get here until Tuesday…

However, on we go!!

So no, I’m still not done, but we’re getting there. I have decided to have the new erotic stories not only available for download on the upcoming MarilynsRoomBooks.com website (which will be processed by Lulu, which accepts Paypal, Apple Pay, Google Pay, Shopify, and CC);, but also (free) on Kindle Unlimited, and then also on Smashwords, which offers pretty much every eReader format there is. All short stories will be .99¢ everywhere (basically the lowest price you’re allowed to use), except for Kindle Unlimited. obviously, which is free.

I will post free excerpts here, so you can find out beforehand if you want to read the whole story. And when the stories are really short, I will offer 2 or 3 in the same download.

So that’s the plan for the new erotic short stories!

And any moment, the new novel, The Guitar Hero Goes Home, will be ready for its test print!! So we are most definitely moving along.

Well, not much is actually going on here right now, besides phone calls with Valerie, and then spending hours at my desk, working. The new script work for Abstract Absurdity Productions is on hold until I can at least get the new novel out in the marketplace (which also means setting up that new Marilyn’s Room Books website). (I know — I always have 1700 things on my plate at once.)  But, you know, it’s the end of summer here and things, in general, are slowing down. Ab Ab Pro will pick up again in September.

All right. Well, I hope it’s as beautiful where you are today as it is here in Crazeysburg. Enjoy your Sunday, wherever you are in the world!! Thanks for visiting. I leave you with my breakfast-listening music from this morning, “This Game of Love” (2020), a stunning song from Mark Lanegan’s Straight Songs of Sorrow (2020). He sings a duet with his wife, Shelley Brien, on this one. It’s beautiful — hypnotic. Okay. Have a good day, people!! I love you guys. See ya.

“This Game Of Love”

Don’t let me burn like this
Save me from the fire
I know the art of loneliness
I see straight down the wire
I see straight down the wire
See straight down the wire

Free my soul of emptiness
I know the taste of sorrow
Tonight I am delirious
I live to play tomorrow
Live to play tomorrow
Live to play tomorrow
I live to play tomorrow

I came in to this town
No comfort or peace of mind
Just as the rain came down
I swear I don’t wanna lose this time

Gonna take my rightful place
In the sun high heaven above
Or there’ll be hell to pay
Am I gonna lose this game of love?

Now I lay me down to rest
Cold ground up against my back
Time and again I failed a test
As painful as a heart attack
As painful as a heart attack
As painful as a heart attack
As painful as a heart attack

Don’t make me burn like this
I know the art of loneliness
Free my soul of emptiness
Pull me from the fire

I stepped down off the train
Not looking to do no harm
Just book a room someplace
And hold devotion and warmth in between my arms
Devotion and warmth
Devotion and warmth
Devotion and warmth in between my arms
But the to and the fro
The wrath and the sloth
The back and the forth took my world apart

Lord I’ll take my place
In the sun high heaven above
Or there’ll be hell to pay
Am I gonna lose this game of love?
Am I gonna, gonna lose
Am I gonna lose this game of love?
Am I gonna lose
Am I gonna lose this game of love?
Am I gonna, gonna lose
Am I gonna lose this game of love?
Am I gonna lose
Am I gonna lose this game of love?

© 2020 Mark Lanegan

What Mondays Look Like in My Refrigerator!

Yes!! It’s Monday!!

Me and Henry, my AI sexbot (pictured above in the driver’s seat!!), will be heading out to do our weekly marketing in the next county over within the hour  — the county that is no longer in Code Red! Yay! The county where we hope people are still wearing their fucking masks so that it doesn’t go back into Code Red again anytime soon!!

The summer is basically over, after all! School starts this week! No need to frolic around joyfully without our masks on, right?? We’re sad now. School is starting. Let’s wear our masks…

Okay! Re: the title of this post — here is what my fridge looks like on Monday mornings:

The taste-tempting options on Monday morning!!

It’s really ridiculous how things look first thing in the morning on Mondays, compared to how it looks a few hours later when I come back home from the store.

(And those packaged broccoli crowns are a week old, so I’m not really sure they’re even any good.)

So, Mondays are always exciting around here, if only that it means we get more food!!

Okay!! Two winners were selected for the Bad Seed TeeVee fan music video contest. (Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds.) I didn’t see either of the videos!! I wish I had, but there were just tons on there. (And wonderful, wonderful stuff, gang. I hope you got to see some of them.)

Anyway. The winners were: “Waiting for You” performed by Juldiz. And “Spinning Song” performed by Ilya Gruzdev. (Both songs are off of Ghosteen.)

I still just marvel at what people can achieve so economically these days when it comes to music and music videos and/or visual images set to music on a video.

I feel pretty grateful that I even know how to take a 5-second video with my phone.  Even though I have plenty of apps to help me make videos and also to make music, and even though I know how to read and the apps I have are in English, I still can’t figure this stuff out.

And I mentioned this last summer, too — how amazing it is that a lot of people learn how to play (often electronic) instruments on their phones.  For instance, a woman I know bought an inexpensive drum machine recently and learned how to play it through an app on her phone.

In my totally outdated opinion, those aren’t real drums, and to be a drummer, you need to know how to actually play drums. But that is no longer the case. She’s considered somebody who now knows how to play drums. Plain & simple. And every single bit of it is electronic and app-driven.

Well, I think it’s just incredibly cool. I’m on this tangent only because I think it’s amazing how quickly these Nick Cave fans put together such incredible videos. If I had wanted to submit something, I’d still be sitting here, trying to figure out how to work the app. And I’m a classically trained musician, with years and years of experience in audio engineering and multi-media production.

So, the Universe is sort of becoming this place wherein the less you know, the better equipped you actually are.

If you want to read what Nick Cave himself had to say about all the entries as well as the winners, his Red Hand File from today is here.

And on a related note — Cave Things Instagram feed announced today that it is adding more “coming soon” stuff so check that stuff  out here.

Okay, gang. So this is what I’ve decided to do.

Loyal readers of this lofty blog no doubt recall that I have decided to start self-publishing all my books from now on, and in anticipation of that decision, I will soon have a separate web site for Marilyn’s Room Books.

The books coming either soon or in the very near future are:

  • The Guitar Hero Goes Home
  • The Muse Revisited Vol. 4: Selected Erotic Fiction 1994-2012 (POD)
  • Twilight of the Immortal (POD edition)

And then, coming in a slightly more distant future:

  • Girl in the Night: Erotic Love Letters to the Muse
  • Thug Luckless: Welcome to P-Town
  • In the Shadow of Narcissa: An Intimate Memoir of Childhood

These books will be listed on the new web site but actual orders will be fulfilled by Amazon.

However, I have also decided to start selling new erotic short stories through that Marilyn’s Room Books site, as well. These are stories that I will post for sale as I write them, and they will sell electronically for extremely cheap (and I mean cheap) and the sale will be processed through Lulu.com (Paypal or CC), so I will not have access to any of your private info, gang. And once I accumulate enough new stories, they will be gathered into a new POD collection and the individual electronic stories will be  removed from the site.

I really, really love writing erotic stories, gang. I really do. But the economics of doing that for a living became just crazy once the publishing industry imploded back in like 2010 or whenever that was. At the height of my career, I was paid between $300 -$1200 per story, and each story would be 1000- 3000 words; I could turn those things around in a couple of days. And then I earned ten times that (and upwards) to edit anthologies of stories by other erotica writers. (And this was strictly through the small presses; a fraction of what the large presses paid.)

And this was not erotic romance, either. This was hardcore literary erotica by writers that would really just amaze you.

That market simply does not exist anymore. Not even close. Now, an original erotica story will pay between $5-$30.  And usually they do not come out as an actual print book that you can buy in the bookstore , they’re all eBooks or audio. Which is great, but still, you can readily see why writing stand alone erotic stories got pushed way to my back burner.

Yet, I feel bad that so many of you (those of you still willing to pay for them and not download them free through torrents from game boys in distant lands) keep buying that really old stuff, over and over. So we shall see how it goes: In between (erotic) novels, memoirs, screenplays and plays, there will be new erotic stories for you, and about 50¢ for me!!

I’m actually really excited because I do love writing that stuff, but I also do need to earn a living around here.

I will of course announce any new stories here on the blog, but if you want to be updated about new content, there will be an email sign-up on the other site.

Well, all righty. The grocery store is beckoning me!! So I will get going.  I hope you have a great Monday, wherever you are in the world today!! I leave you with my listening music from last night: Yo Yo Ma playing “Cantata BWV 147, Jesus bleibet meine Freude”. I had it on “repeat” for about an hour. Listen and rejoice!! Okay. I love you guys. See ya!

All Righty! We’re Gonna Try Not To Look at Porn Here Today!!

It wasn’t my fault, actually. It was Valerie’s.

I was just killing time, waiting for her phone call because she texted me early yesterday morning, to say she had finished the layout for the cover design of The Guitar Hero Goes Home and would send it over momentarily and then call me to discuss it…

I didn’t want to get too involved with anything important because I would only get interrupted when her phone call came. So, of course, I was looking at even more Hentai 3D Monster Porn. (See my posts from the last 2 or 3 days…) (To be fair, there is a whole lot of that stuff, gang, and the deeper you dig into it, the more your mind just gets totally blown.)

But, actually — in all seriousness– part of it is research, although I’m not going to say for what.

Anyway. Hours were flying by. Literally. Hours. Monster Porn-filled hours.

I went out to the yard and took care of all the flowers. I had lunch. I looked at the mail. Paid some bills. Looked at the phone for perhaps a text from Valerie. An update of sorts. Nothing.

So I looked at more monster porn. And gradually it became less about “research” and more about: holy shit, this stuff is fucking insane. (I actually totally love 3D hentai, and hentai monster porn is my all-out favorite, mostly because the minds that create this stuff astound me.)

Eventually, I got a text from Valerie, saying that the phone call wasn’t gonna happen (oh really?) and then I called my dad. I had dinner. I streamed some more of Miss Fisher’s Murder Mysteries (I’m back to season 1 because I’m done with all the newer seasons now and don’t want to let it go, and have discovered that I don’t recall any of the episodes from season 1 because it was 8 years ago, so it’s once again, brand new to me).

And then, the evening was so fucking lovely — just the most amazing evening for mid-August. So I sat at the kitchen table, gave one happy eye to Miss Fisher and the other deeply happy eye to my phone, where upon I began looking at even more Hentai 3D Monster Porn and was finally forced to admit to myself that the screen was way too small on the phone…

So I closed down the house for the night, even though it was only 7:30pm and even though the evening was so fucking lovely, and I went back upstairs to the 14-inch-screen on the  laptop and spent the rest of the night in my room.

By the time I was finally indescribably supersaturated with monster porn, it was pitch dark outside. Jesus, you know?? I could not believe myself. Even though, technically, I did do other things throughout the day yesterday, I was basically looking at monster porn for 12 hours.

(And it was actually really fun.)

However. You know. You don’t want to have a day like that twice in a row. You might start to feel like a slacker.

So.

There is a very good chance Valerie is calling me this afternoon, but I’m not going to plan on it. I’m going to just get to work here. I know that if she doesn’t call me today, she will call tomorrow, so I’m going to focus on Thug Luckless: Welcome to P-Town and just see how the day unfolds.

I can’t tell you how beautiful it is again here today, gang. Just another truly stunning day.  My new vacuum cleaner hasn’t arrived yet, but I’m actually really excited about getting it. I love getting new vacuum cleaners.  And even though I vacuumed the whole house on Sunday (before the old vacuum cleaner exploded), the house already needs to be vacuumed again. (The joys of 7 strictly indoor cats…) So I can’t wait!! I hope it arrives today.

Meanwhile…

The Nick Cave Instagram feed announced this morning that this upcoming weekend is when they will show all those videos that fans have sent in of themselves and/or their bands, doing covers of songs by Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds. Apparently, every entry will play on the Bad Seed TeeVee channel. So tune-in and watch everybody!! And then one winner will be selected.

(And the lucky winner will not win £200 wallpaper from cavethings.com…)

Load image into Gallery viewer, Hyatt Girls Wallpaper
Hyatt Girls wallpaper

(I really love that wallpaper but I cannot wrap my mind around the £200 price tag right now.  Even though I don’t have a room in this house wherein I could actually hang that wallpaper, still.  You know. I’d like to buy it and maybe save it for the next house, or my room in the nursing home. At least, I’d be assured to get visitors in my old age…)

Well, all right. I’m gonna get started here today. For real, this time. Have a great Wednesday, wherever you are in the world!! Thanks for visiting, gang. I leave you with a dirty song about a man in love with another man’s truck….(or is it?? You decide!!). The Traveling Wilburys’ “Dirty World” from the 1988 album,The Traveling Wilburys, Vol. 1. Okay! Enjoy, gang. I love you guys. See ya!

“Dirty World”

He loves your sexy body, he loves your dirty mind
He loves when you hold him, grab him from behind
Oh baby, you’re such a pretty thing
I can’t wait to introduce you to the other members of my gang

You don’t need no wax job, you’re smooth enough for me
If you need your oil changed I’ll do it for you free
Oh baby, the pleasure would be all mine
If you let me drive your pickup truck and park it where the sun don’t shine

Every time he touches you his hair stands up on end
His legs begin to quiver and his mind begins to bend
Oh baby, you’re such a tasty treat
But I’m under doctor’s orders, I’m afraid to overeat

He loves your sense of humor, your disposition too
There’s absolutely nothing that he don’t love about you
Oh baby, I’m on my hands and knees
Life would be so simple if I only had you to please

Oh baby, turn around and say goodbye
You go to the airport now and I’m going home to cry
He loves your…

Electric dumplings
Red bell peppers
Fuel injection
Service charge
Five-speed gearbox
Long endurance
Quest for junk food
Big refrigerator
Trembling Wilbury
Marble earrings
Porky curtains
Power steering
Bottled water
Parts and service

Dirty world, a dirty world, it’s a fucking dirty world

© 1988 – George Harrison, Tom Petty, Bob Dylan, Jeff Lynne,  Roy Orbison

Yesterday Was Wonder-Filled!

Okay, well, sorry I didn’t post here yesterday. But I did, indeed, have just a splendid little day.

I started out thinking I was going to post here, as I usually do, but then I got on the treadmill and made the mistake of streaming another episode from Season 3 of Miss Fisher’s Murder Mysteries while on the treadmill, and had so much fun that from that moment forward, my entire day went off onto its own little primrose path.

I split the day between streaming even more episodes from Season 3 of Miss Fisher’s Murder Mysteries, and streaming many happy hours of hentai 3D monster porn (do not watch those videos if you have an issue with questionable consent — and if you do, consider yourself forewarned). (In a big way.)

And then I spent some time with my many flowers — it was just a stunningly perfect day yesterday. Sunny, warm, but not too hot. And I also cleaned the house a little bit.

And here’s a great thing: I had to order a new vacuum cleaner!!  I knew my other one was getting ready to bite the dust, as it were.  Not just too many years of cat hair but also cat litter, which I think takes a really heavy toll on a vacuum cleaner.

Anyway, I used mine yesterday until the very last second, when the motor got really loud and I could start smelling smoke… But I was still able to vacuum the whole house except for the stairs. So any available, perhaps somewhat “disposable” income that could have been used for buying something really cool at Nick Cave’s cavethings.com went instead toward buying an exciting new vacuum cleaner…

Oh well. But be sure to check that cavethings.com  link there because new items are coming soon!! (I, personally, am still holding out for the collection of tiles and I am hoping they won’t cost £300, but I’m not really holding my breath…)

Load image into Gallery viewer, THE ‘DREAD’ TILESWell, gang, the plans for the online staged reading of my play Tell My Bones get more and more exciting. I believe we have a firm date for the pre-recorded “live” stream: Sunday evening (Eastern Time, but I don’t know the exact time yet) November 8th. With rehearsals beginning in October.

I have a phone call with the director here in a few minutes that will update me on all the latest plans and I just can’t tell you how excited I am that so many talented people are getting onboard.

Okay, well it is Monday, which means that, once the phone call is over, I drive into town to get the groceries, and then once I get back home, I plan to finish reading Whatever Comes My Way: Travels in the Netherlands by my friend, Roger Gaess. And once that is done, I start reading a new (as yet unpublished) novel by another good friend, Mark Pritchard, who lives out in San Francisco. So, even while I didn’t actually do any work whatsoever yesterday, my daily calendar of things to focus on is really continuing to help me stay on top of all this stuff I need/want to do.

All righty, gang. I’m going to close this and get ready for my phone call. Yesterday, was the 43rd anniversary of the death of the King. Yes — Elvis Preseley. I found out on Instagram yesterday that the last song Elvis ever sang (at home on his piano) was “Blue Eyes Crying in the Rain” (a Country & Western standard, written by Fred Rose). So I’m leaving you with that today. Thanks for visiting, gang!! I hope you have a great Monday, wherever you are in this beautiful world. I love you guys. See ya.

“Blue Eyes Crying In The Rain”

In the twilight glow I see her
Blue eyes cryin’ in the rain
When we kissed goodbye and parted
I knew we’d never meet again

Love is like a dyin’ ember
Only memories remain
Through the ages I’ll remember
Blue eyes cryin’ in the rain

Some day when we meet up yonder
We’ll stroll hand in hand again
In a land that knows no partin’
Blue eyes cryin’ in the rain

© 1947 Fred Rose

Here Comes A Really Beautiful Day!!

Happy Friday, everybody.

If you  are still sort of in lockdown mode (as am I), it probably feels like Saturday or Tuesday or maybe even Wednesday…

When I woke up this morning, it did not feel like Friday. It felt like Tuesday, and I felt a little crestfallen that it was already Friday. Where is August racing off to??

And I went down to the kitchen. It was still dark out, because it’s that time of the summer where things have definitely changed. It stays dark out just a little longer now. And the birds don’t start singing until about 6am — and there are maybe 3 of them, now, instead of 3000. So it’s just crickets now, during my entire breakfast.

But I stood at the kitchen sink, where I have a really great window. It’s really wide and tall. A great view. And I stared out at the dark yard and up at the sky, and I thought of that August 2 years ago, when the man was still alive and we were in the absolute thick of falling in love — which included some arguing, too, because I didn’t know how to be loved and so my constant insecurity kind of made him very frustrated.

Anyway, in my head this morning, I was talking to him and I said: Remember that August? When time stood still? And we didn’t even realize the summer was racing away?

And then after the cats were fed, and I was fed, and the many little dishes were washed, and I sat down again at the kitchen table to write in my Inner Being journals — he came through. Just like that. His words were in my head and they came out onto the page. He said hello, and that he loved me and that he did remember that August, and that he hadn’t wanted it to ever be over, but that we have evolved now (meaning both of us) and that nothing ever really ends. That’s what he “said” !

So, that made me super happy, gang. That man changed my life. My whole entire life. (If you’re new to the blog, he came into my life suddenly in July 2018, and died a handful of weeks later, in late September of 2018.) (He changed my life because he loved me, and he was actually the first person ever that I felt really loved me. Except for my grandma, but she loved me in a different way.  She loved me in a “grandma” way, and this man loved me in every other way.)

And once I finally believed that he loved me (after a few really intense shouting matches, that’s for sure) my whole life changed.

Well, anyway. This is a magical house. And my kitchen is a magical place. Oh — my Amazon firestick 4 arrived yesterday, and the AC power cord to actually finally plug the TV into the wall (!!), and the only place I could find to put it for now is in my kitchen.

It seems crazy to have it in the kitchen, but there it sits, all plugged in. And I moved the hardwired speakers for the iPad up to my bedroom, where I keep my iPad at night. So now I have my iPad with great speakers — instead of the Bluetooth speaker that only lasts one hour — crowded onto my night table.

It just feels weird. But here is a photo I took last evening to send to Valerie (she’s the culprit friend who persuaded me to buy the firestick 4 because it was on sale). I’m watching Miss Fisher’s Murder Mysteries here:

(oh — and I can get the PBS Passport app on the firestick so I’ll be watching Endeavor on the TV this year instead of on the iPad!! It starts Sunday!!)

This morning, while I was lying in bed (feeling like it was Tuesday), I started thinking about Endeavor and how this would now be Season 7. And I recalled so well when that show first started. It was 3 houses ago. I had something like 3 TVs back then — including a much larger flat screen TV in the bedroom. And I had cable  service, and premium channels, like HBO, Starz,  Showtime, Cinemax, etc. (And on my iPad, I had Hulu, Netflix, Amazon Prime.)

And down in the family room, I had a really big digital TV that was hooked up with the DVD player, and it had the DVR box, and all that.

And a free-standing bar was in the family room, complete with top shelf liquor and all my bar ware. And wall-to-wall, built-in bookshelves. And art on the walls, and framed photos of friends and family set out on the end tables, etc.

Just like how most regular people live.

And then everything really changed. Not in a good way, but I won’t go back into that. And I got fed up with drinking and with watching television. And little by little, I got rid of everything but the iPad, the DVD player, and Amazon Prime.

So having a TV in my kitchen now does not really sit well with me, but it’s okay. And it has a really good picture.

On a totally different topic. here is the Cave Things item (see yesterday’s post re: Nick Cave’s new merchandise page) I  want most (a silk screen thingie), but I can’t afford it so I’ve started a Kickstarter campaign so that you guys can help me buy it!! (I am totally kidding about that.)

I have to say,

Abstract Absurdity Productions is getting every spare dime out of me right now. Which reminds me, I took that webinar yesterday on equity financing versus debt financing for film funding, etc., and my brain did indeed explode by the end of the class. It was presented by 3 entertainment lawyers in LA, and it was an intense amount of information in just under 2 hours. Most of the basic liability information I had already gotten from my accountant, but there was still other stuff that just — well, it’s a lot to cram into this wee bonny brain of mine.

It’s not all that different from when I was running multi-media production companies 20 years ago, but this is on a much larger scale.

Anyway. Every spare fucking penny is allocated right now.

Hey. Look at this! I found this on an external hard drive while trying to find some Word files for the new Muse Revisited Volume 4 collection. It’s the house we had in Cleveland from 1966 until July 1971 — just weeks before my 11th birthday.

Our house in Cleveland 1966 -1971

My bedroom was the window at the top left, behind that tree.  It was a truly wonderful house. It really was.  It had a big back porch off the kitchen, that had a big wooden swing hanging from the ceiling of the porch. And up above it, running most of the length of the back of the house, was a sun porch. There were 2 fireplaces in the house. And a den that had built-in bookcases on 3 of the 4 walls and a  built-in desk. And the whole house had plenty of windows. We didn’t have central AC yet, but it was a really wonderful, breezy house.

Unfortunately, this is the house where my adoptive mother really started to unravel, so I have a lot of intense & terrifying memories from this house, as well. I also had my first orgasm here (I was 7), and I got my first period in this house — and I was so angry, because I was only 10 (almost 11) when that happened.  And so none of my girlfriends were anywhere close to getting their periods yet. I hated that.

I was not a big fan of menstruation, in general, gang.  And wasn’t sad to see it go at age 46. Although I was devastated to know for sure that I was never going to have children, other than that, I didn’t mind menopause coming so early.

Anyway. Beyond that lovely stuff — I loved that house and I loved my bedroom and I loved my little desk and I loved my big bed and I loved my record player and all my records and I loved the late 1960s. (That’s the house we lived in that summer they walked on the moon. And that’s the house we lived in when my dad was still kind of “around” and not a millionaire yet  and was still really nice and we watched “Star Trek” together on the TV in the living room and I remember that it scared me! I watch that old TV show now and find it so funny that it used to scare me. Anyway. I got my first pair of fishnet tights there, and my first mini skirts. My first maxi-skirts.  I lived there when I first learned French and Hebrew and learned how to ice skate and roller skate, and when I took dancing lessons and had tap shoes and ballet slippers. And I lived there when I learned how to read music and to play violin, piano, and guitar. How to ride a bike. I lived there when I fell in love with the Beatles, and with David Cassidy, and the Monkees TV show. And I lived there of course when MLK and RFK were assassinated, and George Wallace was gunned down, and when Johnny Cash had his TV show and the Everly Brothers, and the Smothers Brothers, and the Beach Boys all had TV shows. And I lived there when “Hair” was a huge scandalous hit on Broadway. And I lived there when “Laugh-In” was a huge scandalous hit on TV. And I lived there when the Beatles broke up. And when our dog got epilepsy and had to be put to sleep and I was heartbroken. And I lived there when “In the Heat of the Night” was a huge hit movie and we saw it at my dad’s drive-in theater and there was a naked woman in the movie and my little jaw fell open!!  And I lived there when I started to fall in love with girls, and my little friends told me that it was a really weird thing to do. And when I lived there, every night after dinner, on the news Walter Cronkite would tell us how many US soldiers had been killed in Vietnam that day.  It was quite a house. When my parents bought it, it cost something like $35K. The last time it sold, a few years ago, it went for something like $550K. Inflation is really just insane. Anyway. There was a lot to love about my childhood.)

All righty. I’m gonna get going here. It is Thug Luckless: Welcome to P-Town day so I am very excited to see what new stuff hits the page for the new novel.

Thanks for visiting. Enjoy what’s left of your Friday, wherever you are in the world. I leave you with another song from Lou Bega’s A Little Bit of Mambo album (1999). This time, it’s “Can I Tico Tico You” (“Tico” is a general term of endearment used by people who live in Costa Rica.) Enjoy, gang. I love you guys. See ya!

“Can I Tico Tico You”

Baby you’re my freak once in a week
we gettin’ kind of deep in my ’86 jeep
I don’t play no tricks you know the bomb ticks
the only style I play is my self-made hits
and it kicks like that yo’ it really does
was it number one hell yo’ it really was
I got the swing the king is back in the ring
ladies throw their bras when I start to sing

[Chorus:]
Can I rock it can I knock it
can I lick it can I kick it can I top it
you make me hazy you make me crazy
and baby I don’t know what I can do

We can start somethin’ fantastic that you never knew
forget you live in plastic when I keep my eyes on you
I can’t cool down because it’s gettin’ too hot
so please baby please baby never let us stop
and it kicks like that yo’ it really does
was it number one hell yo’ it really was
I got the swing the king is back in the ring
ladies throw their bras when I start to sing

[Chorus]

© 1999 Lou Bega