Tag Archives: Half-Moon Bride by Marilyn Jaye Lewis

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

Happy Campers in Crazeysburg!!

Yes!! So the very good news is that I did sell “Half-Moon Bride” to the new publishers! I am so excited, gang. As soon as the contract is signed/sealed/delivered, I will give you the details. But I could not be happier.

And then, after really struggling for several hours yesterday over it, it became clear that the new erotic short story, “1954 Powder Blue Pickup,” is indeed going to be a novella.

What I struggled over was the intensity level — having to do with (very) “questionable consent” — and once I realized that it had to happen, that the story was going in that direction almost in spite of me, then it became clear that it would be a novella. (The “short” story is already at 17,000 words. Novellas, technically, run from 17,000 to about 40,000 words.)

Even though most of my stories contain questionable consent scenarios in one way or another because I am almost always writing from a POV of D/s, and even though I have a short story up there in the vault that relies heavily on extremely questionable consent, it’s presented as something that is unfolding in a woman’s mind (which is a paper-thin device, but still…).

And in “1954 Powder Blue Pickup,” it’s not happening in anyone’s mind. Not that it is that terribly intense, I just was not completely sure I was committed to going there. It was the main reason I got bogged down in Pasolini’s Salò and Sade’s book 120 Days of Sodom on Sunday. And even, to a lesser extent, Gaspar Noé’s film Irreversible (meaning just the rape scene and not all the other violence).  For me, it is mostly about the minds that created these expressions and what they needed from the creation of them and how people then become part of what was created by joining their minds to it in one way or another.

I’ve always struggled with knowing or not knowing what the responsibilities are when you create something either non-consensual or of questionable consent, and put it into the world.

Anyway, the struggle is over regarding “1954 Powder Blue Pickup,” because I finally wrote the section that was asking to be written, and it took me about 10 hours yesterday to write 3 pages.  Literally. But it’s done. And then I collapsed in bed around 11pm and was absolutely out like a light until morning.

And so, the weather has really gotten cool — especially at night. And I am now contemplating bringing the house plants back inside now. Fall seems to be coming really quickly this year. So we’ll see. September usually does that thing where it tricks you into thinking it’s Fall, and then it soars back up to the 90s for 10 straight days in a row. Yet, sometimes, it’s just Fall and it stays Fall.

So here is another really, really interesting thing!

Yesterday, from my upstairs window, I saw the cute blond guy getting into the passenger’s side of a car in his driveway, and a blonde woman was getting into the driver’s side and it sort of looked, from 5 houses away, that maybe she was his mom. She had long straight blonde hair — like his– and she seemed to be a little too old to be a sister.

So I watched as the car came right past my open window and stopped at the stop sign and I noticed several things. Yes, that woman was old enough to be his mom. And the car was a brand-new Honda Civic, like mine, except that mine is molten lava-colored, and this one was electric blue.  AND it had dealer plates. And it wasn’t from the Honda dealership here in Muskingum County but from the dealership where I lease my own Honda, in the next county over.

And then I remembered how, every time I go into the show room side of the dealership, there are always tons of sales men but only one sales woman and she has long straight blonde hair!

OMG, right?? Jesus. I have probably sort of “known” that boy’s mom for about 4 years already. So fucking weird. And not just that she is likely his mom, but also that anyone I would ever see anywhere else at all in the world could possibly live on my street in the tiniest village known to man!! How fucking odd.

So that was cool!!

All righty!! I’m finishing up the laundry here. Then I’m gonna get back to “1954 Powder Blue Pickup.” Thanks for visiting, gang. I hope you have a terrific Tuesday, wherever you are in the world. I leave you with my breakfast-listening music from this morning!! Tennessee Ernie Ford’s huge hit from 1955, “Sixteen Tons” — written by Merle Travis in 1947, who was just really an amazing songwriter.  (16 tons refers to coal miners and the  amount of coal they had to mine, and then, back in the old days, the coal-mining towns had stores run by the coal companies that extended the miners tons & tons of credit, so the miners were usually very in debt to the Company store and saw no way out of their bleak lives.)  So, well, I guess enjoy!All righty.  I love you guys. See ya!

“Sixteen Tons”

Some people say a man is made out of mud
A poor man’s made out of muscle and blood
Muscle and blood and skin and bones
A mind that’s weak and a back that’s strong

You load sixteen tons, whattaya get?
Another day older and deeper in debt
St. Peter don’cha call me, ’cause I can’t go
I owe my soul to the company store

I was born one morning when the sun didn’t shine
I picked up my shovel and I walked to the mine
I loaded sixteen tons of number-nine coal
And the straw boss said, “Well bless my soul!”

You load sixteen tons, whattaya get?
Another day older and deeper in debt
St. Peter don’cha call me, ’cause I can’t go
I owe my soul to the company store

I was born one morning, it was drizzlin’ rain
Fightin’ and trouble are my middle name
I was raised in the canebreak by an old mama lion
Can’t no high-toned woman make me walk the line

You load sixteen tons, whattaya get?
Another day older and deeper in debt
St. Peter don’cha call me, ’cause I can’t go
I owe my soul to the company store

If you see me comin’ better step aside
A lotta men didn’t, a lotta men died
One fist of iron, the other of steel
If the right one don’t getcha then the left one will

You load sixteen tons, whattaya get?
Another day older and deeper in debt
St. Peter don’cha call me, ’cause I can’t go
I owe my soul to the company store

© 1947 Merle Travis

Yay! Finished!!

Okay, I’m back!! And my new erotic short story, “Half-Moon Bride” is indeed done!!

Yay!!

I’m very, very happy with it. I will keep you posted on when it will become available, and in what way and from where.

I want to post some sort of excerpt here on the blog, but the story is just so intense, and told in such an extreme way, that posting just a section of it would be too out of context and probably seem too extreme. (Most of the story pushes the boundary of “questionable consent,” but reading it from page one, you do sort of get the underlying audacity of it — it is sort of rapturous and even a little humorous.)

Anyway, I have to give it some thought.

Meanwhile, today I am doing a final read-through to check for typos, etc., then I’m sending it off to the potential publisher.

Then, I’m going to get started on another new erotic short story, as well as try to make some headway in editing the upcoming The Muse Revisited Volume 4, Selected Erotic Fiction, 1994-2012. (If you have read any of the other volumes in the series, you have perhaps noted that some of that stuff needs some conscientious editing — I should have realized that before letting those other volumes go to press.)

Anyway. I wouldn’t want Valerie to have to go too long without having another book cover design to tear her hair out over!

So, it is indeed a glorious holiday weekend around here! Just unbelievably perfect weather. You have no idea. And our teenage motorcycle boy has indeed been out and about, zoom-zooming all over the tiny town and seeming happy as the proverbial clam.

Now that I know which house he lives in, I have noticed that an older guy (brother maybe?) seems to fix up old cars. Whether this is for a living or is a hobby, I have no clue. I don’t actually spend all day staring at their house, much as I would like to. (Much as I would like to actually go over there and hang out!!) But it fascinates me. So much life in that boy and he is in the teeny-tiniest place on Earth — practically. And the odds are high that he’ll hook-up with some girl from the high school, start raising babies and stay here in Muskingum County for the rest of his life.

And knowing what I know about most of the rest of the world — it does not seem like a bad idea at all. It takes a long time for the garbage in the world to permeate Muskingum County. It really does.

Okay, well, I guess I’ll get started here. Not much going on but writing and beautiful weather!! Please don’t forget that my newest novel, The Guitar Hero Goes Home, is now on sale! In trade paperback and Kindle eBooks. (For now. It will branch out to other outlets later this fall.) In the meantime, have a wonderful Sunday, wherever you are in the world!!

I leave you once again with Nick Cave’s version of “Cosmic Dancer”, from the (finally) just-released Marc Bolan tribute album, Angel-Headed Hipster. The song was going through my head all night and when I woke-up first thing this morning, so I played it all through breakfast. Enjoy, and thanks for visiting, gang!! I love you guys. See ya.

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

My God, People! Yesterday Was Intense!!

First of all, continuing in the happy theme of my post here last night, The Guitar Hero Goes Home is now available everywhere! As an eBook, on Kindle, and as a trade paperback !!!!!

[UPDATE: I have removed the eBook from Smashwords.]

Yay!! Kindle is $2.99,  and the paperback is $9.95

Here are the links:

Trade paperback via Amazon: The Guitar Hero Goes Home

Kindle eBook: The Guitar Hero Goes Home

My test proof for the print edition doesn’t arrive until tomorrow, but I already saw an online proof and I know I’m not going to make any changes, so the fact that it is already for sale is fine.

There are only 2 things that really bother me, that I could not change — the page numbering — where Page 1 begins on the Copyright page. And then the pages that set off the different sections — i.e., Part I, Part II, Part III, etc. — I could not give those their own, stand alone pages. Traditionally, they should appear on the right hand side of the book, with nothing printed on the back of the page. But they wouldn’t allow me to have any blank pages. So I find the formatting weird, but it can’t be changed and it won’t keep me from selling the book.

So it’s ready!!!!

In other brief news — I think I may have a publisher for “Half-Moon Bride”, even as a stand alone short story. I don’t know for sure yet, but I will keep you posted! And if it works out, then it could be likely that all my new hardcore D/s erotica that pushes the boundary of “questionable consent” could have a new home.

After yesterday’s seemingly endless nightmare, just trying to get the fucking eBook published for The Guitar Hero Goes Home, I would be happy to focus on writing as much as I can, and less on publishing when at all possible.

I have not formatted an ePub doc for eBook publishing since upgrading to the Windows 10 laptop. And the upgrade made all my old style-guides for creating ePub docs 100% obsolete.

So, what used to be something I could do almost on automatic, became something I had to learn all over again.

I was not at all in the mood for that yesterday, gang. I was having a seriously not happy day. And almost every single thing I needed to do to format that stupid ePub file got fucked up, and I spent hours sitting here at my desk, pretty much saying “Are you fucking kidding me??!!” every 5 minutes… I had to keep starting over, and starting over, and starting over.

Eventually, I took a piece of a piece of a piece of a Tylenol PM, so that I could at least calm down without actually going to sleep. And I started yet again, and finally figured out what the fuck I was supposed to do to get everything to work right. And at long last, it did.

And so it “went to press” as it were! And since it is not an erotic title, but merely “adult”, it means I did not have to go through the outraging insanity of having the Amazon keyword machine reject the entire manuscript based on a keyword it detected as objectionable yet without enlightening me to what taboo words were triggering the rejection.

Loyal readers of this lofty blog no doubt recall that this happened to me when I published The Muse Revisited, Vol.1 (on both Amazon and Smashwords back in 2012, or whenever it was), but Amazon rejected the manuscript without telling me why.

I eventually discovered, through endless and annoying trials and errors, that the thing that was triggering the rejection was in my short story “Muriel the Magnificent.” When Muriel is 7 years old, she gets a spanking from her dad, with her pants down– and the scene is not erotic at all. In fact, it’s the key scene of the whole story — it sets up Muriel as an adult, who is unable to feel erotic about her own body.  And she finally learns how to open up by accidentally seeing porn on the Internet.

This was back when the Internet was still brand new. And the story was written expressly for a British compilation at Hodder- Stoughton, The New English Library Book of Internet Stories (a non-erotic collection — mine was the only erotic story in there, but it was included because the story was good). And the story was indeed a huge hit. It got picked up as one of the best erotic stories of that year. And by the time I was trying to publish the eBook of  The Muse Revisited, Vol.1  on Amazon, “Muriel the Magnificent” had already been picked up for publication in a few other collections, in the US and overseas — all of which were on sale on Amazon and had been on sale on Amazon for several years.

But since eBooks at Amazon are judged by keyword machines and not human editors,  and since my eBook was labeled as “erotica,” a 7 year-old girl simply can’t get spanked by her dad with her pants down, regardless of the context.  So they spit back the entire book. And kept spitting it back, and kept spitting it back, until I finally figured out what the problem was, and as much as I hated to do it, I had to completely censor that key scene in order to get the book published. (So, yes, if you only know that story from The Muse Revisited collection, you’ve read a censored version of the story.)

Anyway, that’s annoying as hell, but it didn’t happen this time. Yay.

So — The Guitar Hero Goes Home is at long last published. I hope you’ll read it. There is sex in there, gang!! But … alas, not a lot (although there is a really cool spanking scene in it!!) Perhaps that will entice you… (Although it’s between 2 adults and… alas, it is not eroticized. It’s in fact one of those spankings that you don’t want to get…)

But anyway. I’m very happy and I can’t wait to get my test proof of it tomorrow. To hold it in my hot little  hands.

And I’m glad that at least the next 2 publishing projects are not going to require ePub files!! They are strictly POD. Thank God.

Well!! In case you were really busy doing something on July 23rd and weren’t able to catch Nick Cave’s solo concert on Dice — Idiot Prayer: Nick Cave Alone at Alexandra Palace — the Nick Cave website announced this morning that there will be a theatrical release of the concert, starting November 5th, and that there is also an album coming — vinyl, CD, and streaming — November 20th. All the details are here.

I have to say that every time I see the title of that show, I always think it says Nick Cave Alone at “Berlin Alexanderplatz” — which was this amazing TV miniseries from Germany, back in 1980, adapted from a German novel of the same name about Berlin as it gradually falls under Nazi influence. It was directed by Fassbinder. I think you can probably stream it online — and you should, if you can. It was really, really good. However, Nick Cave is not in it, alone or otherwise. (But that should not deter you from broadening your intellectual horizons.)

Well, all righty!!! I need to get started here today. I haven’t done my yoga yet — I guess I’m still in the mindset of rejecting routines.  But I do want to do it since I didn’t do yoga yesterday. And then I need to finally finish “Half-Moon Bride.” Which means we need to have copious amounts of anal sex! Well, the characters do, at any rate. (However, if you’re feeling like your own day needs to move in that direction as well, far be it from me to attempt to dissuade you!!)

To be honest, my life is a little challenging right now, for reasons that I don’t want to post about, so to spend the rest of the day, sitting at my desk, encouraging our 2 love birds to have copious amounts of anal sex, as their wedding night wanes and before the sun comes up and our half-moon bride loses her erection for an entire 30 days… Well, that to me, sounds like a really great way to spend the day.

I hope Thursday is as good to you, wherever you are in the world!! Thanks for visiting, gang. My breakfast-listening music today was once again from Tom Petty & the Heartbreaker’s Live Anthology (2009).  This time, “Square One,” recorded live in Missouri, June 17th, 2006. I hope you enjoy it. It’s a song that gives me a lot of hope. I know, somehow, I’m going to get to a good place. Okay, I love you guys. See ya.

“Square One”

Had to find some higher ground.
Had some fear to get around.
You can say what you don’t know.
Later on won’t work no more.

Last time through I hid my tracks.
So well I could not get back.
Yeah my way was hard to find.
Can’t sell your soul for peace of mind.

Square one, my slate is clear.
Rest your head on me my dear.
It took a world of trouble, took a world of tears.
It took a long time to get back here.

Tried so hard to stand alone.
Struggled to see past my nose.
Always had more dogs than bones.
I could never wear those clothes.

It’s a dark victory.
You won and you are so lost.
Told us you were satisfied,
but it never came across.

Square one, my slate is clear.
Rest your head on me my dear.
It took a world of trouble, took a world of tears.
It took a long time to get back here.

© 2006 Tom Petty

Getting There

I think the full moon is making my brain a muddled mess today.

I keep puttering around, doing weird stuff.  Sort of sticking to my morning routine, sort of not. I even sat down here to post to the blog, totally forgetting that I hadn’t even done yoga yet, so I came to the unexpected decision that I’m not working out today. Even though I’m wearing my little “do yoga” outfit as I type this.

I also decided that I had to do laundry today — it was suddenly imperative. So I put the dirty clothes in the washer and there was maybe a half an inch of clothes! I sort of stared at it, wondering why I was so hellbent to do laundry, then I went ahead and started the machine anyway.

And even the trash pick-up truck seems to be acting strangely this morning. I’ve seen them drive by my house 3 times already, but they haven’t picked up my trash yet — they’re going on a whole different route. Which is incredibly weird because we have about 6 streets here in Crazeysburg, so why on Earth would you suddenly need a new route, you know? Is it more efficient to drive past people’s houses 3 times?

Not sure what’s going on there. But part of me immediately panics when I see them pass me by, thinking that I forgot to pay the trash pick-up bill again. But they seem to just be driving strangely today.  So before I call them up and lose my fucking mind on the phone, I’ll just wait and see what happens.

Okay, well, yesterday evening, we came SO CLOSE to ordering the test proof for The Guitar Hero Goes Home. The print-preview machine was grinding out the proofing copy over at Amazon, it took forever, but when it was finally finished, the cover art was a fraction of a hair’s breadth too big for the template.

And this was after just a whole big long line of things yesterday that had already exasperated Valerie in trying to get the cover art, within the template specs, to me so that I could upload it. So it was disappointing. But we are almost there, gang.

I already know I don’t like some of the aspects of the layout of the text (well, 2 things), but they are super minor, and the next time around, I know better than to type an entire manuscript into a Beta-testing template. So on we go, right?

And another weird thing — suddenly, this morning, Instagram has started putting people I don’t even know at the top of my feed, putting the posts of people I actually do know, down lower in the feed. Of the 13,704 people I now follow on Instagram, I know maybe 4 of those people, so I would really like to have their posts at the top of my feed, since right now, I don’t have time to hang out scrolling on Instagram; I want to see only my favorite posts at the top of the page and then get off Instagram, because I need every spare moment right now to sit here and quietly lose my mind.

Actually, one of the downsides of letting go of my private Instagram account and making it a public one, is that now I have way too many people that I’m following. And the people I really did enjoy following for such a  long time,  almost never come up in my feed anymore. Yesterday, I saw a post from Benmont Tench and it was the first post of his that I’d seen in, literally, months. And he’s someone who posts all day long. I used to see him first thing in the morning and then last thing at night, and his posts were always funny, charming, etc.  And I really loved his posts. (He was the life-long piano player for Tom Petty & the Heartbreakers.)

Oh, which reminds me. Today is the anniversary of the death of Conway Savage, who was the piano player for Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds for a really long time. Nick Cave wrote an amusing tribute to him in his Red Hand Files for today. You can read it here.

Okay, well. I’m hoping today will be productive, even though I am clearly in this strangely befuddled mindset. I had wanted to drive into town today to do something very important but now I’m wondering if getting into the car and driving 95 miles an hour today is the best idea. I guess we’ll just find out.

I’m just in one of those weird spaces where life feels intensely unmanageable. I know it will pass…

I’m going to leave you today with Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds’ version of “Stagger Lee”, because for some reason, I always really liked Conway Savage in this video. Well, I like everybody in this video. I just love this video. I’ve posted it here before, of course, but here it is again.  I hope you have a good Wednesday– enjoy that full moon (btw, they just picked up my trash! So if I lose my fucking mind today, it won’t be while I’m on the phone talking to the trash pick-up people). Okay. Thanks for visiting. I love you guys. See ya.

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

It’s Monday — Already??!!

Honestly, gang. I cannot believe it is already Monday again. Time to drive back into town and go get the groceries. It feels like I just did that!!

However, the fact that I have only a pint of blueberries and 2 cartons of yogurt in the fridge assures me that it is indeed Monday. So off I will go to town (the next county), as soon as I’m done posting this.

(And the good news continues, as the number of active cases in the next county continue to plummet!) (However, what continues to rise, is the number of college students coming to Ohio with active COVID 19 cases… Ohio has tons and tons of colleges including the massively huge Ohio State University, which just announced 922 new cases!! ) ( I am exaggerating, gang!!!! But it’s just a ridiculous amount of college kids here, heading in to college infected.) (Hope their summer was nothing but FUN.)

I also cannot believe it is now the last day of August. Sometimes I feel like I am just going to sail off into oblivion, and that the fears & politics sustaining this current virus are never going to leave our culture (and where were the “politics” when 60 MILLION Americans had swine flu in 2009 and the country did not shut down??), and that this is just it and that my life, happy as it actually is, is just sort of over. And that each day, I’m simply sailing deeper into the sweet hereafter. Because nothing makes sense anymore — even while I’m gaining clarity on more and more things in my private world (and my private world is the only thing I take with me into the sweet hereafter, right? So….).

Well. I guess only time will tell if I’m actually still alive here or not.

The petunias are still looking great, but there are fewer and fewer blooms as they begin to bloom themselves out — a sure sign that September is on its way. It’s bittersweet. But we still have  several more weeks of blossoms ahead of us. And my toad is still doing great! Whenever it gets super hot, he still comes to sleep in the soil in that one specific planter on the front porch. I think he’s had a terrific summer. He looks really hardy!!

Yes, the erotic short story (“Half-Moon Bride”) continues… Each day, when I sit down at my desk to begin working on it, I think to myself: this is probably it; it’s probably going to come to the end today. And yet, I am always completely and thoroughly wrong.

And not only has the story not yet come to an end — even though I now know how it will end, I just have no clue how we’re getting there — I spent quite a good chunk of time yesterday, writing several pages of ridiculously filthy stuff, only to realize it was meant for another story altogether.

Yes, that’s correct. Over the weekend, while I was feverishly scribbling away on “Half-Moon Bride,” several other additional erotic short stories began coming to me, and so I was scribbling notes on those, at the same time

Too weird, right?? This sudden outburst of erotic short stories, while I have been focusing on erotic novels and memoirs for such a long stretch now? It feels like a proverbial dam has burst, or something, and now I am scrambling to keep up with the flow.

But anyway. Yes, so I worked on that whole section yesterday afternoon, and then realized, when I stole down to the kitchen to grab something quick to eat , and was on my way back upstairs to my desk: Wait! That whole thing is for a different story!!

So, I sat down at my desk, looked at the manuscript, and thought: Jesus. I need a break here. And so then I went back downstairs and watched the final episode of Miss Fisher’s Murder Mysteries from way back in Season 1 (2012), and tried to air out my brain. Then I began watching that brand new special full-length movie, Miss Fisher & the Crypt of Tears (2020). I only watched about 15 minutes of it, though, before I made myself go back upstairs and write some more.

I don’t know how many of you loyal readers of this lofty blog can remember all the way back to the spring of 2018, right after I first moved here? I happened to glance out an upstairs window one Saturday afternoon, as it had suddenly started to rain, and I saw this amazing teenage boy — long blonde hair, tall, lean, beautiful, wearing a plaid shirt, blue jeans — standing in the yard across the street from my house, right by the railroad tracks. And he was sort of rapturously taking in the sudden downpour. And I immediately fell  (maternally) in love with him and wished he were my kid! The joy, the freedom, coming out of him, and also the fact that he was just standing there, totally alone and so happy.

Well, I don’t know how old he actually is, but I think he’s still in high school — perhaps a senior now? (Meaning, his final year.) But he is clearly old enough to drive and now owns a motorcycle! And this is a very recent development.  All weekend long, (no helmet, of course), he was riding a blue motorcycle all over the streets of Crazeysburg, always coming to a stop at the STOP sign just outside my house, so that’s how come I knew for sure it was always him.

I was up here working away on the intensely filthy erotic tome, I’d hear the motorcycle come to a stop outside, I’d glance out the open window, and there he’d be — so fucking free and beautiful. And then off he’d go.

Boy, was he happy on that thing. And he is still so fucking CUTE. Long hair still,  but in a ponytail now. Just so young and so free.Alas,  I really wish he was my kid…

Although, when I was in Junior High and High School, I had no less than 4 male friends  die from motorcycle wrecks in the space of 3 years.  So, if I actually were his mom, I’d probably be freaking the fuck out over that fucking motorcycle and the “helmet optional” laws here in the State of Ohio… (And yes, I realize, I’m actually old enough to be his grandmother…)

Well, all righty.

I suppose I will close this and head into town now.  I hope you’re having a great Monday, wherever you are in the world. Thanks for visiting, gang. This morning, we were back to the Nocturama CD  by Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds (2003), specifically the song “Right Out of Your Hand”. So I leave you with that today! Enjoy, gang. I love you guys. See ya.

Right Out of Your Hand

Please forgive me
If I appear unkind
But any fool can tell you
It’s all in your mind

Down in the meadow
The old lion stirs
Puts his hand across his mouth
He has no use for words

Poor little girl
With your handful of snow
Poor little girl
Had no way to know

And you’ve got me eating
you’ve got me eating
You’ve got me eating
Right out of your hand

I mean you no harm
When I tell you you’re blind
Give a sucker an even break
He’ll lose it all, every time

The airborne starlings circle
One the frozen fields
The hollyhocks hang harmlessly
And the old lion yields

And you’ve got me eating
You’ve got me eating
You’ve got me eating
Right out of your hand

© 2003 Nick Cave

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