Tag Archives: writing

Yes! Onward!

Gang, I hope you had a happy 4th (if you live State-side, that is)!

As I posted yesterday, around these parts – Crazeysburg, specifically – we’re having our 4th on the 5th. Which, of course, irritates me because I’m long past the holiday mood and am headlong into a regular day here.

However, I only live one block from where all the merriment will ensue soon, so I’m guessing I will be forced to at least spiritually participate, since all my windows are open.

Anyway. As grumbley as I am about it not happening on the actual 4th, I know I will enjoy the fireworks tonight because I have that clear view of them from my kitchen porch.

Speaking of the kitchen porch, and thus speaking indirectly of the spider who lives out there and builds those extensive webs (see some other post from the other day, only God knows which one). Last evening, I went out to the porch to water the flowers and I saw a little beetle stuck in one of the webs.  He was perfectly alive and the spider hadn’t done anything about it.

This happens from time to time, and when it does, I carefully remove the insect from the web and set it free.  I did this to the beetle and his little legs grabbed onto my finger and he did not want to let go.

I tried to set him down in the grass and send him on his merry beetle way, because I am a gal who has things to do & people to see! But he just wanted to stay put on my hand and not go anywhere. I even tried scooting him on to a blade of grass, to use it as a transport to the actual lawn, but he would have none of it. He kept avoiding the blade of grass and staying put on my hand. And the bottoms of his feet were kind of sticky or something like that. I mean, I could feel that he had a real hold on me and wasn’t going to budge.

It was actually quite endearing. But I really did have to go back inside and, yes, go sit back down at my desk, so I finally was able to move him down onto the grass. And for several minutes afterward, I could still feel the pressure of his little feet on my hand.

It was so cool. But then I wiped down all the old webs to try to keep that from happening again. If the spider is still around, I know he had new ones back in place by sundown. I haven’t actually checked yet.

But, speaking of my desk…

So, yes, as I posted yesterday, during the night on Wednesday, all the final edits for Blessed By Light finally arrived and I was prepared for yesterday to just be a final read-through of the novel so that I could sign off on it in my head and focus on the play.

I had a brief email exchange yesterday morning regarding my revisions for Chapters 1 & 2, and while the editor felt they were working just fine, I in fact did more revisions to those chapters yesterday, along with minor revisions on chapters 3, 4, 5 & 6! And I know I am going to do some tweaking to Chapters 7 & 8 today.

But that really is going to be it. From Chapter 9 onward, the novel moves into a different tone, because the 2 main characters are more securely into their relationship, so the tone changes.   But I just wanted elements of that tone to be in there from the beginning of Chapter 1, so that’s what I worked on all day yesterday. For about 10 hours.

I knew there weren’t going to be any fireworks yesterday, or anything, so it didn’t really feel like a holiday to me anyway.

Still, I did acutely notice that my life is so different nowadays from what it was in NYC. It didn’t matter which holiday it was back then, Wayne & I always cooked and baked and bought a ton of booze and fine wine and had an apartment full of noisy, happy people. Always. That’s just how we were.

And I still have all the stuff that goes along with cooking and baking for tons of people – I have a really good-sized kitchen here in the depths of Crazeysburg. I have lots of cupboards, tons of storage.  And every single nook & cranny is full of things made for cooking and baking and God knows I have a ton of dishes, too.

So, I couldn’t help but be reminded of all that, as I went down to the kitchen for my 4th of July dinner last night, and it was an orange, 3 pieces of broccoli,  and one of those “green” smoothies that’s full of all sorts of things you don’t want.

But I’m actually okay with it. Things change. I am definitely someone who needs change.  When I left NYC, aside from an impending divorce, I was ready to leave. NYC was morphing into something I didn’t really enjoy anymore.

I was on the phone with my Uncle yesterday and he kept laughing about it, you know: “What is going on with you? Why are you living there? Why are you staying there? It makes no sense! Did they take your passport? Are you unable to get out?”

But I’m really, really happy here, for the first time ever in my life. I cannot explain it. And loyal readers of this lofty blog no doubt recall that I had to beg the realtor to show me this house. I had to beg two realtors, in fact. I brought it up 5 times.

ME: “I want to go out to Muskingum County and at least look at that house.”

THEM: “No you don’t.”

ME: “Why??!! It sounds perfect for me!”

THEM: “It’s not. It’s a mess of a house. Been on the market almost 2 years.”

But when I finally persuaded a realtor to take me through it, she couldn’t believe how much work had been done to the inside of the house in the 2 years it had been languishing on the market.

Anyway. It was the perfect house for me. And I bought it. And I’m ridiculously happy here, even though everyone who knows me – from my wee bonny girlhood days in Cleveland, onward – equates me with an intensely urban environment.

But it is a great house for writing in. It’s so incredibly quiet here.

Okay, well! I see there is a new Red Hand Files newsletter from Nick Cave in my inbox, gang! So I think I will close this and read that and then get back to work around here!!

Oh, one other thing that happened yesterday – how easy Amazon makes my world!

I was typing away, and a little thing popped up in the bottom corner of my laptop screen. It was Amazon, alerting me that I might want to buy White Lunar right away, because it was on sale! (White Lunar is a soundtrack collection by Nick Cave & Warren Ellis from a number of years ago.)

Amazon usually tells me to buy things I already own, but I don’t actually own this CD collection yet. Truthfully, I don’t know that I was actually planning to own it, although I do own another one of their soundtrack CDs that I really love.  I can’t remember now which one it is, but it’s that Depression-era country sounding type thing. I really love it.

So I just clicked a little button and the entire purchase was completely done and I just went right on typing revisions of the novel.

And that is one reason why I have so much fucking music in this house! It’s so darn easy!

Okay, gang. I leave you with this version of Lou Reed’s Walk on the Wild Side as performed  by a now-defunct Australian band, Yves Klein Blue.

I was turned onto this cover of the song yesterday morning, on the a1000mistakes blog site out of Australia, and I just love it!! Enjoy your Friday wherever you are in the world! Thanks for visiting. I love you guys. See ya!

Happy Independence Day!!

Do all kinds of independent things today, gang, okay??!!

I am not a jingoist kind of gal, or anything, so this is my only annual homage to the 4th of July:

The smallest coffee cup in my house that is not meant for espresso!

The only good thing about this coffee cup is that it is so small, I have to constantly go back down to the kitchen to refill it. So it’s a good “exercise mug”!! (It actually doesn’t look as small as it really is from this angle.)

You’ll note in the background there – my tickets to see Nick Cave in NYC! I decided the only way I would ever remember to bring them with me was to have them in plain sight every single solitary day for something like 4 or 5 months.

Speaking of Nick Cave (and correct me if I’m wrong, but I think I’m always speaking about Nick Cave…), I had a dream about him last night that was so strange.  He sent me 2 emails and inside each email was a window – an actual window like you would have in your house. And each window was in the shape of Australia. (Don’t ask me how actual windows can arrive in an email.)

The dream was strange enough to wake me up at around 3am and try to figure out what the heck it could mean. (I have no clue.)

I don’t dream about Nick Cave often, but when I do, there is always that duplicate thing happening – meaning 2 of the same thing. (Oh, and when I dream about him, he’s always wearing a white shirt and a black suit.) (I know, clearly, my issues with his suits extend to unfathomable psychological depths.) (And when I dream about other people, I never notice what they’re wearing at all, and I doubt that if I dream of them more than once, they’re wearing the very same thing every single time.)

Anyway. In dreams, baby!!!

Well, lest you think anything I ever plan to do on any given day ever pans out….

No! The final edits for Blessed By Light did not arrive until very late last night, when I was already asleep. So I was not able to do that final read-through of the novel yesterday. I will likely do it today, even though it’s a holiday.

I did do a bunch of stuff with the new laptop yesterday, though, so that is finally up and completely running.  It has great speakers! I’m still not using it as my main computer, though, because the novel is in a WORD Add-in app that I’m not going to transfer to the new laptop.

Even though those novel-writing apps are cool to use, I have found that as soon as I need to send a chapter, or the whole book, to someone, I have to reformat the whole darn thing or nobody can read it correctly because the file arrives weirdly at their end.

So that app’s going, but everything else transferred and I am now a Brave New Girl with a fully updated laptop.

The other thing I wasted a ridiculous amount of time on last evening, was I tried to join a new dating site.  One of those sites that is strictly for bisexuals or bi-curious’s looking to hookup, and has nothing whatsoever to do with the L word. (No!! Not lesbian! I am indeed speaking of love right now, and about how I don’t actually want it.)

Bi-curious, I have found, is generally a married woman who’s cheating her brains out, or a married woman whose husband has an agenda that he deeply wishes you to participate in.

True bisexuals are harder to find than you would think, so I’m not too terrifically picky. However, I did have the most ridiculously difficult time setting up my little profile! It kept wanting to use my private email address as my user name!!

You can probably readily see why I might shy away from a thing like that!

But also, it kept telling me that I couldn’t use my private email address as my user name!! And then wouldn’t let me change it. And I couldn’t set up my entire profile without changing that user name problem.

Even so, as I was attempting to set up my profile,  you know, realizing that I’m looking for a bisexual gal who is a vegetarian, doesn’t drink, doesn’t smoke, doesn’t do drugs, and wants NSA hookups with no LTR — you know. I mean, there are about 14 people who live out here in the Hinterlands. And I seriously know in my bones that none of them are gonna fit this description. Plus, I know I only have about 5 minutes of free time every 3 weeks.

I felt completely confident that I was setting myself up to fail. However, I kept trying to make the darn thing work because I was just in that insistent sort of mood. You know: I wanted a girl! Who doesn’t drink or smoke or get high or eat animals or want to spend more than 5  minutes with me every 3 weeks!!

Finally , I broke down and started a Tech Help ticket to try to make my private email address as my user name go away. And immediately they replied, letting me know that they would look into my problem within 48 hours

Well, in 48 hours, god knows I won’t be thinking about dating anybody anymore because I’ll be up to my eyeballs in revisions of my play. So that was an evening well spent!

Oh, and then I discovered that the fireworks around here this year won’t be until tomorrow. Well, that totally sucks because I really only appreciate 4th of July fireworks on the 4th of July. By tomorrow, my mind will be on a whole new path, even though fireworks will be filling the sky in plain view of my kitchen porch. (They do that weird scheduling thing because all the little towns around here try not to conflict with other towns’ fireworks, including the event in the main city, which draws millions of people.)

Well, anyway. Onward, gang!! It’ll still be a really nice Independence Day for me!


I leave you with this fun video from the Another Man Magazine site in the UK. The band is Wild Daughter and the song is “Mr G.”  It’s highly stylized gay fetish, which is always fun on the 4th of July!

All righty! Have a wonderful day, wherever you are in the world!! Thanks for visiting, gang. I love you guys! See ya!

The Muse Revisited!

Thanks again, gang, for the unending downloads of my free eBook titles over at Smashwords!

Once again, hundreds of people are primarily downloading The Muse Revisited Volumes 1 -3, with an occasional download of Freak Parade, and maybe one lowly download of Twilight of the Immortal (!).

But, hey. I’m not judging… Porn addicts are people, too.

I’m just kidding!

The free downloads continue throughout the entire month of July, as part of Smashwords annual site-wide Summer Sale. Direct links to the eBooks can be found in the drop down menu above, under About Marilyn Jaye Lewis. You have to choose the Smashwords link, as the titles are not free on Amazon.

Below is an excerpt from The Muse Revisited Volume 1.

“I Like Boys” (c-1997) was one of my most popular stories ever. It was written specifically as a spoken-word performance piece, and then was published numerous times in anthologies published in the US and UK.

In 1998, I launched the website Marilyn’s Room.com.

Marilyn’s Room.com was a multi-media international erotic arts site, the first of its kind. It was free, with no advertisements on the site at all.  We featured erotic paintings and photographs from all over the world. We had downloadable readings of erotic poetry, fiction, and memoirs. We also had recorded audio interviews with writers, photographers, artists, and filmmakers. We had downloadable erotic films from all over the world, as well. (Mostly extremely unusual fetish films, produced by indie lesbian-owned film companies, but not always).

In those days, porn had barely made any inroads on the World Wide Web because everyone was still learning how to make movies affordable to download on dial-up, since movie files back then were huge files and took forever to download.  Because of that, though, there was a huge audience for erotica and short erotic films online (erotica being the bastard – though perhaps slightly more elegant- stepchild of porn).

Marilyn’s Room.com was very popular internationally but oddly enough, not as popular as my first site, OtherRooms.com, was – and OtherRooms had no images whatsoever; it was strictly literary erotic fiction. Meaning you really had to know how to read. And in those days, when most people could only get online at work or at school, we were nevertheless getting between 5-10K readers a day, and eventually made it into Playboy‘s Online Hall of Fame.

But when I launched Marilyn’s Room.com in NYC in 1998, we had the first ever live coast-to-coast Internet broadcast of erotica readings. It went over extremely well. I wrote “I Like Boys” specifically to read for that broadcast. It was a press event, well attended by journalists from the NY Times, the Wall Street Journal, Village Voice, Daily News, etc., (open bar with top shelf booze works wonders, gang!), and oddly enough, all the journalists back then were men.  The only women in attendance that night were either connected somehow to Marilyn’s Room.com, or were reading on the broadcast.

But because there were all these men in attendance, “I Like Boys” went over incredibly great.  More so than I could have ever anticipated.

Anyway. It is included in The Muse Revisited Volume 1. It was intended to be a spoken word piece, so it’s not truly a short story. It’s indeed short, though – 1400 words, approx. 2 pages.

It is sexually graphic and likely to offend the average reader, so please be forewarned, gang!  Okay! Enjoy. Thanks for visiting!


“I Like Boys”

I like boys who are decidedly youthful-looking, who don’t have a lot of body hair. Preferably boys who’ve maybe just dropped out of college. Boys who wish they knew a lot but who know they haven’t got a clue yet. And who – regardless of the variety of their sexual experiences – still feel overwhelmed by me because they know I’m so much older.

I like boys who consider themselves to be straight, but who, after spending a long time talking with me in my bed in the dark, eventually admit that they might be bisexual. That sometimes they’ve even worried that they’re actually gay.

I love to hear those stories that a boy has never told another living soul yet. Like the one about the stretch of yard behind his parents’ house back home where the boy may have gone with a buddy, an overly attentive school pal. A stretch of yard that was hidden from the world. The place where the boy had finally given in, where he’d lowered his jeans down his thighs and let his buddy get between his legs and suck his dick. The story usually involves the boy’s surprise over having gotten “so hard so fast.” His emotional mixture of desire and loathing as he’d watched his own dick growing stiffer as it moved in and out of his buddy’s mouth. Usually there’s a part about the buddy having seemed “too eager”-a thing that unnerves the boy still in his telling of the secret tryst. An eagerness that had compelled the boy to grab onto his buddy’s head and pump into his mouth hard. Until the jism had shot out hot and with such uncontrollable force that his buddy had had to hold tight to the boy’s bare thighs in an effort to keep his balance while the jism had spurted down his throat.

You can’t beat hearing a story like that-it’s a sign that a boy trusts you.

I like it when a boy trusts me; it means we’re likely to go places together. I don’t mean to cafés or bars or nightclubs. I’m talking about those less tangible places, which usually involve taking all our clothes off and not being in any hurry to leave the apartment for a few days. Where take-out food deliveries are our only meals and even the wine is ordered in.

I like going places with a boy that involve changing into different outfits, different shoes, and then leaving them strewn all over the apartment. And wearing down my favorite tube of lipstick because it keeps smudging off on the wineglass, the cigarette filters, the slightly rough unshaved face, and the boy’s thick stiff cock. Or sometimes the lipstick smudges off onto the pillowcases if I happen to have my face buried there. Or if maybe I’m biting on the pillow because I’m getting that thick cock stuffed into me hard from behind.

That’s when the boy seems most like a man, though. That’s when the subtle aroma of the wine, as it’s poured into the wine glasses that are just in reach on the night table when you’re taking a break from fucking-that aroma only serves to remind you of how elusively time passes. It helps if it’s twilight, too, and through the open window you can see the lights coming on through the trees across the Hudson River.

*     *     *     *

I like boys who watch me very intently as I start to tie them up. They’re not in a hurry to protest, but they’re young enough to be unsure of how far I’m likely to go.  I like when a boy feels like he doesn’t have to be in control, though. Like, maybe I’ve tied him down spread-eagled to the bed and he’s watching intently as I kneel between his spread legs. Then I slide his erect cock in and out of my lipsticked mouth. When he feels my finger slip up his ass, he doesn’t complain. Or how a boy surrenders when you slip the blindfold over his beautiful eyes? I like that, blindfolding a boy who’s tied down. I can plant my soaking pussy right on his mouth then and he acts like he’s never wanted a pussy more in all his life. He devours my swollen lips with a lot of passion, as if not having a choice in the matter is what’s really turning him on.

Sometimes it’s fun to turn around then. To keep my pussy planted on his mouth but lean down and let my tongue lick lightly at his piss slit. Let it run up and down his aching shaft, maybe lick determinedly at the spot just under the swollen crown-or maybe down under his balls-but not take his whole dick in my mouth again for a while.

A boy can get really excitable when my mouth is doing stuff like that. He’ll moan distractedly, or go at my clit with such enthusiasm that I start wondering, how can he even breathe? His nose is practically buried in my soaking hole.

But here’s what I really like: A boy who isn’t afraid to show me his asshole, who might even like to lay belly down and spread his legs for me while I admire him. I like it best if he doesn’t want to be tied then because it indicates to me that he’s really wanting it. I like it when a boy is really wanting it-the rimming part. I do that first. I try to be really thorough and patient with a rimjob. Push his cheeks apart and hold them spread while my tongue licks slowly at his hole, or around his hole, or up and down his crack, because it really helps a boy relax. And a boy needs to feel relaxed. He needs to feel he can trust me, because I’m going to strap on a greased-up silicone tool and slide it up his ass and he knows it. He’s agreed to it beforehand. Sometimes he’s even been the one to suggest it-to ask for it.

And if he’s liking it enough, if he’s into it and his hole is opening up easily for me, I’ll probably fuck him hard. Hold onto his arched ass while I fuck him and tell him how beautiful he looks. How incredible his ass is as it takes the tool in deep. Maybe I’ll even have him pull his knees up under himself so he can jerk-off while he’s getting reamed. And then the noises he’ll start to make-god, the grunting. I love to listen to those lusty sounds a boy getting fucked is likely to make.

But it won’t happen at all if a boy’s not willing to turn over for me.

Which doesn’t mean I don’t like boys who won’t turn over.

I even like those boys who like it best when I’m flat on my back, who hike my long legs up over their shoulders. Maybe keep my wrists pinned down to the mattress with their large, substantial hands. Who shove their hard dicks into me deep, over and over-maybe getting in too deep. And maybe seeming to like the fact that I’m grunting like an animal, even while my mouth is being kissed-devoured, almost. His tongue shoving in and filling my mouth while I whimper.

I like a boy who knows enough to keep fucking me even if it sounds like I’m in pain.

*     *     *     *

I like when a boy lights up a cigarette in the dark-after we’ve finished fucking, maybe, and there’s a jism-filled condom lying somewhere on the bed but no one wants to turn on the light yet and find it. So we lie there instead, naked and entwined, and share a cigarette. Pass it back and forth, even though we’ve heard all the stories about how smoking is no good for us.

I like a worn-out boy to lay his head against my bare breasts in the tangle of sheets and pillows, while I hold him in the crook of my arm and we share that cigarette in bed. There’s something about that fiery glow as we drag on the cigarette in the darkness; it makes confessions seem simple. Boys will tell you the oddest things, if the room’s really dark and they’re sure no one but you can hear them. I’m not big on confiding, myself, but I love to listen to a boy’s dreams.

© 1997 Marilyn Jaye Lewis

Solar Celestial Insanity!

How ’bout that solar eclipse yesterday, gang??!!

Wasn’t it cool? I saw it by way of Brian May‘s Instagram feed. (If you’re too young to know who he is, he was the lead guitarist for Queen.) He is very much into celestial occurrences of all kinds and posts incredible footage of stuff that goes on in the heavens while it’s happening.

So that was my experience of the solar eclipse!

Apparently Instagram is now the center of my life here on Earth.  I can take a break from vacuuming the house, sit on the corner of my bed, sweating profusely in the indescribable heat & humidity, and watch a live feed of the solar eclipse in Santiago, Chile, courtesy of Brian May while he pauses an outdoor rehearsal somewhere in preparation for a tour with Queen (Adam Lambert playing the Freddie Mercury role).

Instagram certainly encapsulates the whole fucking world, doesn’t it, gang?!

My other experience of the solar eclipse yesterday was a pronounced intensity in one of my key relationships. That’s all I’m gonna say about that, though. It is sufficient to simply state that everything is back on track & on we go.

Edits for Blessed By Light are still coming in, so I wasn’t able to completely finish that yesterday. I’m hoping that today will be all about reading the novel again from Page 1 and making sure I have all the edits addressed and just see how I feel about the whole book (again).

To me, it feels like an homage to every older man that I have ever loved. And yet I already know for certain that it rubs feminists the wrong way, and I just have to wonder, honestly, why is that?  He’s a man with a mind of his own.  I wonder why that’s so off-putting to some women?

I was talking to my wonderfully other-worldly friend Kara about this the other day, and she said that when it comes to literature, it’s a good thing to have a character that brings out strong feelings in a reader, either way. I liked her take on that so I’m gonna go with that one.

BTW, we had seriously intense weather here yesterday evening. Kara lives about 25 miles from me, but it’s still out here in the Hinterlands, and she texted me this cool photo from out by where she lives:

Storm brewing last evening in the Hinterlands

My dad called me on the phone last evening, in the middle of the torrential downpour with thunder & lighting and tornado sirens going off. And I was discussing with him this situation about the guy in my new novel, and also about how the book has a lot of sex in it but not as much as my readers usually prefer, and that I expect it to sell on a small press in a narrow market, that it’s not the kind of novel that will be a bestseller or anything.

And he said,  “You never know, Marilyn. This book could sell better than you’re thinking; the timing could be right. It could become a cult favorite or something.” And he said this during a torrential downpour, thunder & lighting, tornado sirens screaming outside my open windows, AND this is a man who has always gone to great lengths to assure me that every single thing in my whole entire life is always gonna suck.

So the whole entire conversation was just surreal. It was very nice for him to be on my side, for a change. But it was just surreal.

Anyway. That weather. Wow.

It began with a sudden gust of very high winds around 6pm. Really high winds. It was slamming doors inside my house and blowing stuff around, and outside it was bending trees way over and just very intense. No rain yet, or anything, but very threatening skies as brooding clouds came trampling in.

I was upstairs in my guest room, lowering the windows and across the street from me, on the grassy corner where the train tracks are, a young guy – couldn’t have been more than 17 — long blonde hair, really scraggly facial hair, shirtless, wiry & muscular, a couple tattoos on his arms, torn & faded jeans, sneakers.  In short, incredibly cute. He was just standing there, looking up at my enormous maple tree blowing in the wind and then looking at everything all around him, his face an expression of joyful jubilation over just being alive in all that intense, high wind.

He was just standing there, taking it all in, really joyfully. And I fell totally in love with him in that instant, you know? Life.

God, I love boys. And boys in summer, especially.

Okay, well. Since I didn’t get all my edits until very late last night, I spent the day doing laundry, vacuuming, getting the house a little bit in order. So that kinda felt good, even though it was stupidly hot while I was doing all that.

I fell asleep last night in the thunder & lighting and all that wild insanity, and yet awoke really joyfully this morning at 4:53am.

I was awash in all that lovely Eros again and I leave you today with the song I was unexpectedly singing – out loud – when my eyes opened onto the dark & still-rainy morning!

Have a great Wednesday, wherever you are in the world, gang. I love you guys! See ya!

“I Could Have Danced All Night”
(from “My Fair Lady” musical)

Bed! Bed! I couldn’t go to bed!
My head’s too light to try to set it down!
Sleep! Sleep! I couldn’t sleep tonight!
Not for all the jewels in the crown!

I could have danced all night
I could have danced all night
And still have begged for more
I could have spread my wings
And done a thousand things
I’ve never done before

I’ll never know what made it so exciting
Why all at once my heart took flight

I only know when he
Began to dance with me
I could have danced, danced, danced,
All night!

I could have danced all night
I could have danced all night
And still have begged for more
I could have spread my wings
And done a thousand things
I’ve never done before

I’ll never know what made it so exciting
Why all at once my heart took flight

I only know when he
Began to dance with me
I could have danced, danced, danced,
All night!

c – 1956 Frederick Loewe, Alan Jay Lerner

Wow! Thanks, Gang!

And I am not being at all sarcastic when I say, “Thank you so much for downloading all those eBooks yesterday, for FREE!”

(God knows, I wouldn’t want to be encumbered with all those royalties, or anything, had you chosen to pay cash…)

Of course, I’m just kidding! Loyal readers of this lofty blog no doubt recall that this same thing happened during the Christmas week last year, when all my eBooks were available as free downloads and the thousands of eBooks that were downloaded for free during that one week made my head spin. It astounds me that so many people still want to read the old erotica, paying or not.

Actually, I do want to take a moment to thank those readers who bought Twilight of the Immortal on Amazon in June! For some unknown reason, that book got a little popular again! I really appreciate that, gang. I love that book.

And there is sex in that book, too, you know.  You needn’t fear that it is 600 pages of no sex. There is, indeed, sex in it. Just not graphic erotica. Nothing explicit. Plus, it’s a lot of girl/girl sex, and a little bit of guy/guy sex.  (Mostly Rudolph Valentino getting a blowjob from a young Mexican guy – a prostitute who works out of a call house off Sunset Boulevard.) (Okay, I just gave that away! But you still might want to read it for yourself and experience the exquisiteness of my use of language!)

(And for those readers who took issue with my insistence that Rudolph Valentino was bisexual – there is a great book from several years ago, a biography of Samuel Steward titled, Secret Historian, written by Justin Spring, that corroborated what I put in my own book before Secret Historian even came out. Samuel Steward details an episode of oral sex he had with Valentino in a hotel room — in Ohio!! — in July of 1926. A month before Valentino died. I’m not going to go into all those details here, but I will say that Secret Historian is an incredible book, gang, and not just because it mentions this Valentino episode. But because it is ALL about the life and experiences of an incredible sexual renegade (Samuel Steward was also “an intimate friend” of Thornton Wilder’s, among just a ton of other people – Gertrude Stein, etc.)  from the days when gay sex was still very much illegal in America. I highly recommend the book if you’re interested in that kind of secret history.)

Anyway. I digress! Thank you recent purchasers of Twilight of the Immortal. I appreciate it so much.

As well, I appreciate non-purchasing readers of anything I’ve ever written!!

Yesterday’s mail brought me something really unexpected and just so sweet.  Foun Kee, my first husband, sent me a gift for my upcoming birthday, along with a little handwritten note. It really just made my day. It was wrapped in newspaper – the color ad insert from the local grocery store out there (he lives in Seattle), so it was interesting to see what people eat and what they pay for it in Seattle!

Yesterday evening, however, took a very dark and horrible downward turn!

Yes! I decided it was time to tackle the set up of the new laptop. OMG! If you think I used the ‘f’ word a lot just for no reason at all, you should hear what happens when I have 3 solid hours of very good reasons to use it!!

And the darn thing is still not completely set up because I still have to migrate all my files from the old laptop to the new one. Plus it was 90 degrees in here while I was trying to do all that. I was down at the kitchen table, and streaming episodes of Endeavour again, so at least that part had a sort of psychologically calming effect.  But, man, that stuff makes me so nuts.

And it makes me want to hold on to my current laptop as long as I possibly can! But then I remind myself that this happens every single time I get a new laptop and eventually I come to terms with the new one and all harmony is restored to my writing life.

And curiously enough (at least to me, anyway) – on my current laptop, I chose a photo of Tintern Abbey in Wales as the screen background. And on the new laptop, I chose a photo I took myself of Basin Street this past fall — on Halloween, actually:

Basin Street in the early fall.

It’s enormous as the background of my new laptop. And I realized I must be truly happy here, gang, if I want to look at this every time I start my computer…

Okay, I’ve scoured the Internet to try to get a copy of one of the photos taken of Nick Cave & Kylie Minogue onstage at Glastonbury the other day, but I cannot find the exact one I want — which is on Instagram and I can’t get it off of there. But I did find a decent one from the BBC, so allow me to steal it and paste it here!

Related image

You know, being an American girl through and through, I have no real clue who Kylie Minogue is. Obviously I do know that she’s a popular singer from the world beyond America, but I primarily know this because she sang that duet with Nick Cave a million years ago, and then put in a stunning appearance in the back seat of his car in the film 20,000 Days on Earth. Also, there was a really funny episode of The Vicar of Dibley many years ago (all the episodes are funny), about getting Kylie Minogue to perform at their community fair thing. (You can actually watch it here, gang. If you’re not familiar with this old British TV show, it was so fucking funny.) But that is the extent of what I know about Kylie Minogue – except that she & Nick Cave looked incredibly blissed out and happy to be singing together again. (I think they might have done other things together, a million years ago, but don’t quote me on that or anything. I wouldn’t want to have another one of those “Valentino in a hotel room” type of arguments on my hands!)

All righty, gang. I’m gonna get this day underway. I think it’s going to be all about the final editing of Blessed By Light and then finding it in myself to really switch gears and re-direct my focus to revisions on the play, finally. (I know, I keep saying that.)

Have a terrific Tuesday, wherever you are in the world!  Thanks for visiting, and thank you, again, for downloading all the eBooks. I really do appreciate the continued interest in my earlier stuff.

I leave you with a little peace of heaven. I love Jane Siberry. If you have never seen/heard her perform live (and this specific song, too), you are missing a transcendent experience. She truly sings like an angel – like something right out of heaven. And then of course, I probably don’t have to tell you how KD Lang sings. Thanks for visiting, gang. I love you guys! See ya!

Calling All Angels
Santa Maria, Santa Teresa, Santa Anna, Santa Susannah
Santa Cecilia, Santa Copelia, Santa Domenica, Mary Angelica
Frater Achad, Frater Pietro, Julianus, Petronilla
Santa, Santos, Miroslaw, Vladimir and all the rest
A man is placed upon the steps and a baby cries
High above you can hear the church bells start to ring
And as the heaviness, oh, the heaviness, the body settles in
Somewhere you can hear a mother sing
Then it’s one foot, then the other as you step out on the road
Step out on the road, how much weight, how much?
Then it’s how long and how far and how many times
Oh, before it’s too late?
Calling all angels, calling all angels
Walk me through this one, don’t leave me alone
Calling all angels, calling all angels
We’re tryin’, we’re hopin’ but we’re not sure how
Oh, and every day you gaze upon the sunset with such love and intensity
It’s ah, it’s almost as if you could only crack the code then you’d finally understand
What this all means
Oh, but if you could, do you think you would trade in all
All the pain and suffering?
Oh, but then you’d miss the beauty of the light upon this earth
And the, and the sweetness of the leaving
Calling all angels, calling all angels
Walk me through this one, don’t leave me alone
Calling all angels, calling all angels
We’re tryin’, we’re hopin’ but we’re not sure how
Calling all angels (calling all angels), calling all angels (calling all angels)
Walk me through this one, don’t leave me alone (walk me through this one, don’t leave me alone)
Calling all angels, calling all angels
We’re tryin’, we’re hopin’, we’re hurtin’, we’re lovin’
We’re cryin’, we’re callin’ ’cause we’re not sure how this goes


c – 1991 Jane Siberry

Buongiorno, Bella!!

Wow, gang. Yesterday was quite the amazing Instagram day!

The Raconteurs new album, Help Us Stranger, opened  at the top of the Billboard charts! I think it sold something like 88,000 copies in it’s first week.

Nick Cave made an appearance at the Glastonbury Music Festival, reuniting again with Kylie Minogue to sing their famous murder ballad from a million years ago, Where the Wild Roses Grow.

Really fantastic photos from that, gang. He should consider holding that gal in his arms for the rest of his life because I haven’t seen him look that happy in a long, long, LONG time. Just lovely.

Dana Petty uploaded a video from a concert Tom Petty & the Heartbreakers did on their final tour, 2 summers ago. It was footage of the song “Learning to Fly” where Tom is not even singing because the thousands and thousands and thousands of people in the audience are doing all the singing for him, and really joyfully and really loudly. It was wonderful. He looked really happy, too.  I think Dana had taken the video with her phone. (And he would be dead within, like, 90 days from an accidental overdose of pain meds, so of course, hindsight makes it all very poignant.)

Ronnie Wood was all over Instagram with before & after show footage from the date the Stones did in Canada. He was really adorable. Also a very happy guy. I think his wife was taking the videos with her phone.

Yesterday was also the month-ending review in my Italian lessons and I only got one wrong answer out of 100, so that was really cool. I have no clue how I did that, gang. But it was exciting.

It is a stunning day here. Some of the edits for Blessed By Light have come in from NY so I will focus on that and then, perhaps, just think about life! I’m supposed to teach piano later today but I’m not sure if that’s happening or not, because of it being a holiday week here. But we’ll see.


As promised, the Smashwords Summer Sale begins again today!  For the entire month of July, you can download any/all of my eBooks that are published on Smashwords — for FREE.

Posted below are the direct links. And, as always, here is my Extreme Cautionary Warning to those readers who have only known me as a script writer:

Freak Parade and The Muse Revisited Volumes 1-3 are exceptionally explicit (award-winning!) literary erotica, often with bisexual BDSM themes and with overtones of what is now termed  “questionable consent” (i.e. consensual rape). These titles are not aimed at the average reader and could be considered upsetting or extremely offensive.

However, Twilight of the Immortal is historical fiction, not literary erotica.

If you’d like to know more about any of these titles before downloading, use the drop down menu on the  upper right of this page, under “About Marilyn Jaye Lewis”.

Here are the links to my titles on Smashwords:

All righty! I’m gonna get an early start here. I leave you with this today. From Hypnotic Eye, Tom Petty’s final album with the Heartbreakers, from 2014, “Sins of My Youth.” I think it sort of sums up a lot of what happened all over the place yesterday.

Have a great day, wherever you are in the world!! Thanks for visiting, gang! I love you guys so much. See ya.

“Sins Of My Youth”

You will find no wicked way in me
Look me over, you will see
You will find no weary change
I’m worn and wounded,
but still the same

Let me tell you the truth
I love you more
Than the sins of my youth

When the past gets up in your face
Memories slide out of place
All those things that were hidden away
Ain’t so bad in the light of day

Let me tell you the truth
I love you more
Than the sins of my youth

You say you love me
wish you’d like me more
I’m no angel that’s for sure
Said you forgave me,
each time I was caught
But you still paint me as somethin’ I’m not

Let me tell you the truth
I love you more
Than the sins of my youth

I love you more
Than the sins of my youth

c – 2014 Tom Petty

July Is On It’s Way, Gang!

If you live State-side, then you’re well aware that during this upcoming week, as we celebrate our long-ago decision to not be England, everything pretty much comes to a stop around here and it’s now all about cookouts and kayaking and canoeing and camping and FIREWORKS and bug spray…

Even though I actually love a lot of that stuff, especially camping (I know, I don’t seem like the kind of gal who would like that sort of thing, but I actually do) (and NO, it’s not because I like to have sex in tents, although that is a HUGE part of it), I will more than likely spend a huge amount of this upcoming holiday week working on revisions of the play, since rehearsals begin  in just a few weeks!

I also have a birthday in July, so sometimes July is also all about cake.

Re: camping, loyal readers of this lofty blog, who know my deep and often uncontrollable passion for dishes, will no doubt be in no way nonplussed to learn that my obsession with buying dishes also extends to dishes and cookware made specifically for camping.

It is RIDICULOUS, the amount of Coleman dishes and cookware I own, and I have not actually been camping in, I guess, decades at this point.

Since I’m ostensibly a “New Yorker,” the people I am friends with like to go off to the mountains and stuff, but only to stay in glamorous old mountain  inns and have incredible meals served in dining rooms that have damask table cloths & such. Maybe go on a little hike to take in the splendid vistas, but then go back to the hotel and get a massage.

I used to beg people to go camping with me and everyone was pretty much shocked and horrified to discover that I liked that kind of thing.

The last person I begged to go camping with me was Mikey Rivera, when we were still together and living in the teeming heat of NYC.

ME (super excited by the prospects of being alone in a tent with him, far from the madding crowd of Manhattan):  “Come on, Papi, let’s go up to the mountains and go camping!!”

HIM: “There’s bears up there, Boo.”

And that was the end of that delightful adventure!

Anyway, lots and lots and LOTS of people go camping out here in the Hinterlands. And tons of people go kayaking and canoeing.  Cookouts, bonfires.

I don’t do these kinds of things out here because a.) it seems like I’m always under a deadline for something these days; and b.) none of these folks are vegetarians. Not even close.  And the stranger the animal, the more likely they are to want to eat it.

The stuff that goes on, foodwise out here, can be emotionally debilitating for me, so I kinda steer clear of that.

I will, however, douse myself in bug spray and watch the fireworks from my porch because it has a clear view of the sky over at the ballpark. And I do love fireworks. God knows.

Well, work with Peitor yesterday on the micro-short video script was INTENSE. Man, this little video (8 minutes) is getting intensely complex. It’s too wonderful, really. Because the bottom line is that the premise is absolutely absurd.  Without doubt, completely absurd.

As I’ve said here before, there is very little dialogue in the video.  Perhaps a total of 2 minutes, tops.  And that part is the most absurd section of all.  And yet the entire (wildly brief) thing is, cinematically, an homage to Hitchcock, Bunuel, Bergman, Fellini, and Polanski.

It is just too intense and too fucking funny. And I think that he and I have seen way too many movies for our own good.


Brighton did not yield much in the way of Instagram photos of Nick Cave’s Conversation there last night. There was one photo I really loved – I think he was leaving the stage at that point. And there was an interesting photo that Susie Cave posted of a little girl sitting on the edge of the stage.

And now we must find a new reason to go on obsessing, because his Conversations are on hiatus until late August, gang.

I got word last night that the final comments from the editor re: Blessed By Light won’t be arriving in my inbox until Tuesday.  So I seriously have to start focusing on the play. July’s presence in my world is imminent.

But I’m still having trouble disconnecting from one project and launching into revisions of another.

I still have not yet dealt with setting up the new laptop, either.  I’m really not sure what my problem is because now it’s getting sort of extreme — my aversion to doing this, even while I already know I love that new laptop.

Surely, this is not another one of those instances where I keep something that I love at arm’s length from me?? That would just be too easy, gang! There must be some other, less honest way to explain this dilemma with the laptop!

All righty, gang. I’m gonna get more coffee and take a look at the day and decide how I feel about being alive in it! (Pretty good, I think, but that’s just off the top of my head.)

Enjoy your Sunday, wherever you are in the world.  In honor of the upcoming holiday week, I leave you with some songs from my childhood, as put together by Mickey Newbury (but then made famous by Elvis): “American Trilogy.”

I’m guessing all these songs are politically incorrect now, even though one of them was written by a white woman from the North. But anyway. I still love this trilogy. Thanks for visiting, gang. I love you guys! See ya!

Oh I wish I was in the land of cotton
Old times there are not forgotten
Look away, look away, look away Dixieland
Oh I wish I was in Dixie, away, away
In Dixieland I’ll take my stand to live and die in Dixie
Cause Dixieland, that’s where I was born
Early Lord one frosty morning
Look away, look away, look away Dixieland

Glory, glory hallelujah
Glory, glory hallelujah
Glory, glory hallelujah
His truth is marching on

So hush little baby
Don’t you cry
You know your daddy’s bound to die
But all my trials, Lord will soon be over

Trad. Arranged by Mickey Newbury 1971

Good Morning All You Groovy Cats & Kittens!

I’m feeling lots better today! No new bruises during the night, so I’m just gonna go with that and feel happy!

Before I forget, starting Monday, July 1st, as part of the annual Summer Sale, all the eBook titles that I publish with Smashwords will once again be free to download, in all eBook formats, for the entire month.

There are no new books included in that download. Twilight of the Immortal will be included in the free download, but other than that title, all the others are graphically erotic and not suitable for all readers.

I will post the complete links on Monday.


Only a couple photos out of Brighton last night. I’m guessing it’s another one of those things where people are following the rules and not using their phones. Because there were photos from before & after the actual Conversation with Nick Cave and everyone loved it. They are back to calling him God, btw. I forgot to mention that.

Oh, I also want to follow up on the new Raconteurs album that came out last week, Help Us Stranger. I’ve listened to the whole thing now and I really like it a lot.  Sort of mid-60s-Beatles-esque throughout much of it.  Just a very happy album with really catchy grooves.

I’m still not warming up to the new Stray Cats album, though.  They should have just saturated the fuck out of it with reverb and yet they did not! Of course it could sound better as vinyl, and I’m only listening to it as an MP3, which usually changes the sound a lot. But it’s that lack of that specific sound quality that’s bothering me. Not the songs themselves.

To me, rockabilly isn’t just the rhythm as the overall sound. I don’t care if I can’t understand the words, either. I just really want to hear that noisy reverb chaotic sort of mess, along with that incredible rockabilly rhythm.

With this new Stray Cats record, I can actually understand every single word, so I find that all I’m doing is listening to every single word. And, you know, rockabilly songs are not exactly profound, or anything – I would really just rather feel the overall sensation, and for me, that’s missing.

Other types of music – the kind of songs that God writes, for instance (aka Nick Cave) – if I can’t understand every single solitary word I go insane.

And speaking of words…

Today is Saturday, which means another phone marathon with Peitor in Los Angeles to work on the current micro-short video script.

It’s really amazing to me, gang, how it’s taking shape.

It’s dark & absurd. With the truly absurd part coming in the 5th segment (naturally, my favorite part). There are a total of 6 segments, and the  whole video is under 8 minutes, total. It’s a cross between Ingmar Bergman and Bauhaus photography, although most of it is in color.  (The title of the video is actually in Swedish, with an English subtitle.)

Anyway, it’s super fun, but it is also a heck of a lot of tight brain-focusing and a lot of fast typing, because Peitor starts getting on a roll, forgetting that I’m over here, typing.  Or trying to.

Still no edits/comments from NY on Blessed By Light, but I have to get to work on Tell My Bones, regardless.  Just make myself switch gears however I can. Probably won’t start today, though.  I’m actually kinda really, really worn out over here.

I keep forgetting to mention how amazing the fireflies are out here this summer. Just thousands of them. They are so pretty. Prime viewing time is at about 9:15 pm. They are all over my backyard then.

I just watch from the huge kitchen window. Because the mosquitoes out here are nasty. I can’t set one foot outside in the evening if I’m not covered in bug spray. And I hate being covered in bug spray.

I also have an amazing spider in the upper corner of my kitchen porch. You should see the amount of webs this guy builds, and how quickly he does it. Once they get all raggedy looking, I wipe them all down and get rid of them. But by sunset, he has them all back in place. It’s staggering, really, how quickly he works and how elaborate they are and how much space they take up. And when the sun’s all the way down and it’s truly nighttime, he just sits there in the middle of it all. He’s pretty big. I can see him really easily because there’s a streetlight on the corner across the street.

And a pigeon has built her nest in the rain gutter above my kitchen porch. Yes, the same gutter that I had gotten all tidily repaired last fall because the starlings did so much damage to it by building their nests there. (I won’t even tell you all the damage the starlings have done to the gutters over my back door. And all the various other birds’ nests sprouting out from gutters in other areas of the roof – plus, a ton of tiny little maple trees growing like crazy in a couple of the other gutters. It’s a bit of a mess. I used to feel guilty about it until I noticed that all my neighbors have the same thing going on.)

Okay, well. That’s it for the nature talk today. I’m gonna get going here. Grab some more coffee.  Take in this gorgeous morning before it’s time for the phone call.

I hope you have a wonderful Saturday, wherever you are in the world! I leave you with my breakfast-listening music from today.  “Palaces of Montezuma” from Grinderman 2. Thanks for visiting, gang. I love you guys! See ya!

“Palaces Of Montezuma”

Psychedelic invocations
Of Mata Hari at the station
I give to you
A Javan princess of Hindu Birth
A woman of flesh, a child of earth
I give to you
The hanging gardens of Babylon
Miles Davis, the black unicorn
I give to you
The palaces of Montezuma
And the gardens of Akbar’s tomb
I give to you
The Spider Goddess and the Needle Boy
The slave-dwarves they employ
I give to you
A custard-coloured super-dream
Of Ali McGraw and Steve McQueen
I give to you

C’mon baby, let’s get out of the cold
And gimme, gimmme, gimme your precious love for me to hold

The epic of Gilgamesh
A pretty little black A-line dress
I give to you
The spinal cord of JFK
Wrapped in Marilyn Monroe’s negligee
I give to you
I want nothing in return
Just the softest little breathless word
I ask of you
A word contained in a grain of sand
That can barely walk, can’t even stand
I ask of you

C’mon baby, let’s get out of the cold
And gimme, gimme, gimme your precious love for me to hold
C’mon baby, come out of the cold
And gimme, gimme, gimme your precious love for me to hold

c – 2010 Nick Cave, Warren Ellis, James Sclavunos, Martyn Casey

My Coffee NEVER Arrives Like This!!

I always have to go down to the kitchen and get the coffee myself, and in the process, try not to trip over hundreds of scampering cats who can’t stand me.

Okay. Perhaps I exaggerate – there are only 7 cats here who can’t stand me.

But I’m not exaggerating when I say that I’ve never had this sort of announcement when the coffee was ready. Least of all, by a guy who wore a seriously nice robe such as the one pictured above! (And I guarantee you; I have had plenty of nightgowns that looked like hers, so that can’t be the issue here.)

I guess it’ll just remain one of those eternal mysteries, gang – why it is that vintage advertisements never seem to reflect the life I’ve lived.

Still awaiting comments & edits from NY on Blessed By Light. In the meantime, I’m trying to sort of urge my mind into the Tell My Bones groove. The play could not possibly be more different from Blessed By Light if it tried, so I seriously have to find a way to steer my mind away from one creative track and onto another.

It feels like that “changing horses in midstream” kind of thing. My mind doesn’t really feel ready to let go of Blessed By Light, but it has to. It is almost July and rehearsals will begin in a few weeks, and the director wants to see all my revisions for the entire play before we get started. (The rehearsals, though, will primarily be for the staged reading version of the script, which is only a 30 minute condensed version of the whole play.)

Loyal readers of this lofty blog no doubt recall that I went through a lot of stress, creating that staged reading version of the script back in January/February, and made significant changes to the storytelling at that point that haven’t been incorporated into the overall script yet. So I have to tackle that. And of course tackle it as the heat of July approaches.

But I actually do okay, writing in intensely unbearable heat. Sleeping in it is where I have serious problems.


Yesterday’s post, curiously enough, yielded lots of traffic from Russia that I don’t usually experience – and none of it came through the WordPress Reader. Indeed curious, right?

Freaked me out just a little bit, I have to say. But on we go.

The last few days have yielded another sort of interesting development.

Even while being incredibly happy with finishing the new novel, and really happy with how it reads as a completed book, I’ve had these weird physical things that have started to perplex me. Relentless and usually overwhelming fatigue is an ongoing issue. Now pain issues. And now bruises appearing from out of nowhere that I can’t explain.

Yesterday evening, I found several more bruises. But you know, that sudden out of body experience I had while meditating yesterday morning felt really profound to me.  That idea that it was futile to go on because there was too much “nature” out in front of me, and yet that feeling of peace about being right where I was, because everything was so beautiful right where I was.

Obviously, I don’t like seeing these bruises.  And yesterday, I found 4 more.  I like to believe it’s just some weird byproduct of being a vegetarian and maybe not getting enough of some sort of vitamin. Still, whatever it ends up being, that sense of peace came over me again yesterday and it was profound. I felt totally okay with everything.

I’m so happy that I finished the novel, and I know I’ll finish the play, and I feel certain I’ll finish Girl in the Night: Erotic Love Letters to the Muse.

I have several other projects that I’ve already started – 3 plays, another novel, and a memoir; and then TV adaptations for 2 of my older novels. But yesterday, it suddenly felt like, well, if I don’t complete those projects for whatever reason, it’s okay. It’s these 3 primary ones that are front & center right now that matter most to me and I know for sure I’m going to finish those.

It’s a type of thinking I’ve never really had before, but it all felt really, really good to me. Like absolutely everything is all right, no matter what path I end up finding myself on.

Plus I think that the people that I love in this life know that I love them. And that’s really important to me.

Loyal readers of this lofty blog know all about Greg, the boy I fell in love with when I was 11 years old and he was 12; and I stayed in love with him until he was killed in an accident the summer I was 14 and he was 15.  And then all sorts of horrible things began to unravel in my world after he died. And I never got a chance to tell him that I loved him. I was a child, you know?  Throughout that whole relationship. Even though we had a ton of sex. I was still a child, really. I was overwhelmed by all the feelings I had for him, but it would never have occurred to me to say “I love you.” It just wasn’t part of my emotional landscape yet.

And I don’t think anything ever felt worse to me than having him suddenly be gone, forever, without being able to tell him that I loved him.

But ever since then, boy, I’ll tell you. I try to express how I feel towards people as best I can. Even though on so many levels, I am a really self-involved person, I do actually care deeply about people. Obviously, readers here know that I have this life-long processing of physical abuse and rape issues that I still deal with many decades later; things that have caused me to have intimacy problems that I try to process in the most productive ways I can. Still, it makes “relationships” very hard for me to maintain. But underneath all the drama, I still care deeply about people.

And I guess in some ways, even though this sounds sort of lame or even like an emotional cop out, my writing is always about human emotions and the emotional complexities of “being here” and the messages we give each other by “being here.”  I do care very much about the human condition, the human heart, and I try to put all of that into my writing and hope that it continues to affect people positively.  Even when there’s a lot of sex going on in what I’m writing, the human heart is always the central issue for me. That struggle for the heart to connect while it’s still here.

Love people. Help them feel loved. Let people know they’re not alone. Life is the same innate journey for all of us, even while we experience it each in our own unique way. I really believe there is an undercurrent to all of it that is exactly the same for all of us, and it comes from love.


I still did not set up the laptop. I have some revisions I need to make by tomorrow to the micro-short video script that Peitor and I are working on, so I will probably avoid the laptop yet again and focus on that today! Or at least this morning. And then avoid the laptop by doing stuff like washing my hair, doing yoga, finding something to stare at and then stare at it. Study Italian. Play the guitar…

I so don’t want to deal with that laptop, and yet I also can’t wait for it to be ready for me to use!! What a conundrum!

All righty!

The Conversations with Nick Cave continue in Brighton for the next couple nights and then will completely disappear from the landscape for a couple of months, wherein I’m certain he will have all sorts of private (lower case ‘c’) conversations and wear whatever he wants to wear! Instagram will somehow survive and continue to get all clogged up with all sorts of things that may or may not mean anything.

As usual, we shall see!

The breakfast-listening music was a little sad today – one of Tom Petty’s many “divorce” songs before he finally got up his nerve (basically) to divorce Jane. It’s a song I’ve posted here numerous times over the years just because I really love the darn song: “Only A Broken Heart.”

(You know, if you like Tom Petty and have never read either his official biography, Petty, by Warren Zane, a really good book and a NY Times Bestseller from 2015; or Conversations with Tom Petty by Paul Zollo, a phenomenally good book from 2006; you should read them. He talks about pretty much every song he ever wrote and why he wrote them and what was going on in his life when he wrote what he wrote, as well as songs that might mean a lot to you that he barely even remembers writing because it meant almost nothing to him. Even his huge hit “Wildflowers,” a really gentle little love song/folk song, he says was actually a song he wrote for himself; because he knew he was unhappy but that he deserved to be happy and he needed to get a divorce… It’s just all very, very interesting if you like Tom Petty.)

Okay, enjoy your Friday, folks. Wherever it takes you! Thanks for visiting, gang. Please know I love you guys so much!! See ya!

“Only A Broken Heart”

Here comes that feeling I’ve seen in your eyes
Back in the old days, before the hard times
But I’m not afraid anymore
It’s only a broken heart

I know the place where you keep your secrets
Out of the sunshine, down in a valley
But I’m not afraid anymore
It’s only a broken heart

What would I give, to start all over again
To clean up my mistakes

Stand in the moonlight, stand under heaven
Wait for an answer, hold out forever
But don’t be afraid anymore
It’s only a broken heart

What would I give, to start all over again
To clean up my mistakes

I know your weakness, you’ve seen my dark side
The end of the rainbow is always a long ride
But I’m not afraid anymore
It’s only a broken heart

c- 1994  Thomas Earl Petty

All Good Things

I had one of those out of body things during my morning meditation today.

I was suddenly standing on the side of a huge hill that was absolutely covered with huge drifts of untrodden white, powdery snow. The sun was coming up at the top of the hill and the snow became blindingly white.

It was really beautiful. I was the only person, anywhere.  I decided not to try to make it any farther up the hill, and I turned to the right, and kept walking in that direction, until I came to the edge of a precipice and the view was astounding. A great divide. A canyon of some kind.  Surrounded by enormous snow-covered cliffs for as far as the eye could see.

And it felt futile to try to go on. There was simply too much “nature” to contend with, yet at the same time, it gave me a true sense of peace about being exactly where I was, because everything was so beautiful.

And then the meditation music ended, right then. And I came right back & opened my eyes (to a very warm and sunny morning).

It was, I guess, a good way to start the day. I do feel like I’m in a new era now, because the novel’s done.

I read it from start to finish last evening. It took about 4 1/2 hours. I did find one typo, but I’m still awaiting the official edits/comments from NY.

I was kind of overwhelmed by the book – in a good way. Although I’m not happy with the second to the last line. So I’m going to look at that today. And then try to really get a grasp on the whole thing, the complete picture of it, you know? It is such a strange novel. It’s beautiful, though.

I woke around 4a.m. today and felt a little sad because the book was over.  Gradually the birds started singing, and that pulled me out of it. It’s not like my life is over. I’m excited to get to work on the upcoming play. And once those revisions are done (for the time being), I can get back to work on Girl in the Night: Erotic Love Letters to the Muse. It should be fun to write hardcore erotica in the overwhelmingly oppressive heat & humidity of deep summer!!

I’m sure I will keep you posted…(in between cold showers).

Okay. Truth be told, I still have not completely set up that new laptop, so I will probably make some time to give it my complete attention. It’s really a wonderful laptop and it’s stupid to not be using it. But I just hate migrating all the old stuff into the new stuff and finding out what’s not going to upgrade or which passwords I’ve hopelessly forgotten, or which software I have to reload, and how to get all my favorite URLs back in my browser, etc.

Just tedious, mind-numbing, potentially frustrating stuff.  And I’ve noticed that lots of people use stealth browsers now and I’m not sure if I want to start doing that — go into some brave new world, or just stay here on the old browser where it’s beautiful & happy.

I do have one stealth browser that I use if I’m going on Yandex or something, because the one time I went to sites through Yandex, boy, did my little laptop become a target for stealthware, or whatever you call it.

I don’t want stealthware on my laptop, but I honestly don’t care if the Russians are spying, or anything like that. I expect the Russians to be spying. And I expect us to be spying on them, too.  It’s just how we are, I guess. NYC, in the 80s especially, was full of spies, from all over, not just Russia. I dated a couple of spies and they were both exceptionally interesting men. Talk about fearless, you know? Jesus.

The Russian spy was a race car driver from what we once affectionately called “Yugoslavia.” He worked in tandem with some communist Chinese spies (always very, very nice to me), and he had quite a few illegal Irish girls spying for the Russians, too (they were sort of wretched, unhappy creatures, though). He was always trying to get me to spy for the Russians. I was very noncommittal about it.  I was in such a strange place in my life back then.

A very good friend of mine was on leave from the Marines at one point, and came to stay in my apartment for a few days. He found issues of Guns & Ammo in my apartment, and that’s never been the kind of zine I was known to have read.  Ever.

We were eating bowls of cereal, watching PeeWee’s Playhouse on the Saturday morning cartoons, hanging out in bed in our underwear; easy -breezy.

HIM (noticing the magazines): “What are you reading Guns & Ammo for?”

ME (somewhere in the clouds): “Oh, some guy I’m dating wants me to spy for the Russians. Wants me to learn how to use a gun.”

HIM: “Are you out of your fucking mind???!!! You get the death penalty for that, Mare!! It’s a capital offense.”

He then made me call the guy and tell him that I wasn’t going to see him anymore – and why. ME (on phone): “Because I don’t want to get the death penalty.”

(I actually said that, gang. The guy accepted it, too. He said something like, “Okay. I get it. No problem.” And I didn’t see him anymore.)

But anyway.  I don’t know that I want to commit to a full-time stealth browser because I kinda like being tracked (by non-Russians) on the Internet! It helps me get right back to where I was before. 1700 less things to try to remember.

I guess we’ll see.


Not too many photos out of Liverpool last night, but still getting some really wonderful photos posted to Instagram from Nick Cave’s Conversation in Nottingham, 2 nights ago. I don’t know, it just looks like it was a cool show.

Of course, on Instagram, they all look like the exact same show. They honestly do. If you saw all these photos I save on Instagram, you’d think I was out of my mind, because they all look exactly the same. However, sometimes, you just get the feeling that one show or another was particularly amazing. Just judging from thoroughly identical Instagram photos, I still think the Luxembourg show seems like it was off-the-charts special.

Okay. I’m gonna get going here gang and try to fix that 2nd to the last line of the novel and see if I can’t sign off on it and move forward into some sort of new era of my sometimes wonderful, always engaging LIFE.

I leave you with the breakfast-listening music from this morning, “Time to Move On.”  It was wistful. I did not cry, although I kind of wanted to. Mostly, I guess I’m just willing to walk into the future, come what may.  I hope I’ll see you there! Thanks for visiting, gang. I love you guys. See ya!

“Time To Move On”

It’s time to move on, time to get going
What lies ahead, I have no way of knowing
But under my feet, baby, grass is growing
It’s time to move on, it’s time to get goingBroken skyline, movin’ through the airport
She’s an honest defector
Conscientious objector
Now her own protectorBroken skyline, which way to love land
Which way to something better
Which way to forgiveness
Which way do I go

Time to move on, time to get going
What lies ahead, I have no way of knowing
But under my feet, baby, grass is growing
It’s time to move on, it’s time to get going

Sometime later, getting the words wrong
Wasting the meaning and losing the rhyme
Nauseous adrenaline
Like breakin’ up a dogfight
Like a deer in the headlights
Frozen in real time
I’m losing my mind

It’s time to move on, time to get going
What lies ahead, I have no way of knowing
But under my feet, baby, grass is growing
It’s time to move on, it’s time to get going

c- 1994 Tom Petty