Yule 2025

 It's the Winter Solstice tonight and I'm celebrating the Shortest Day and Longest Night with champagne, blueberry muffins, a Solstice candle and some good music: S. J. Tucker, Mary Carpenter, Tori Amos, etc.

This year has been hard.  It's been hard on everyone. Even those people who seem to have it all, who seem so perfectly put together. It's been hard on them too.

And I am tired. So tired of all the negativity in the world. Of all the hate and malice and consciously-choosen evil. 

But the Yule gives me hope.

It reminds me that darkness doesn't last forever. That light returns. And it reminds me that the world will return to something like sanity eventually. 

The world is a wheel. Sometimes it grinds you down into the muck and the filth, but if you hang on long enough, the wheel will life you back up into the warmth and the light.  And things will get better.

So, I hope that, wherever you are, you're enjoying this Yule and maybe taking some time to just breathe and watch a candle's flame flicker.

Happy Yule, gentle readers.

Even Good Things Can Happen

 Hello gentle readers,

Well, we're about two weeks into the New Year, and I thought I'd take a look at how things are going so far.

For me? Not that bad.  I have had an amazing uptick in creativity which has led to lots of personal writing, but nothing new for publication.  I did proofread a friend's first Kindle book and even though the subject matter isn't my cup of tea (historial romance veering into fantasy), I thought it was well written if short. 

I wish I could say that the larger world is having a good year, but between the fires in California, the blizzards on the East Coast and the continuing political and cultural divisions separating the country, I just don't see it.  The world continues to fragment, the old orders clinging to power even as their foundations crumble beneath them.

However, I am not going to be a doomsayer. There are good things happening in the world too. People continue to be kind and generous in the face of disaster and want.  Hamas and Israel just announced a cease fire agreement. Nine out of every ten cars sold in Norway last year were electric. A woman in China has lived to be 124 years old.

We're in a new year. 

Anything can happen.

Even good things.

Hope in the New Year

Hello, gentle readers!  The year is turning, the old year wheezing its last breath, and the new one… well, the new one is a mystery wrapped in an enigma, sprinkled with a generous helping of hope.

Now, I know what some of you are thinking.  Hope?  In *this* economy? With *this* weather?  With the state of the world generally resembling a particularly grumpy badger?  Yes, my friends, even then, hope remains.  It's a tenacious little weed, that hope, stubbornly pushing its way through the cracks in the pavement of despair.

I’ve spent years wrestling with uncertainty – the leap into the writing life, the occasional financial panic (because let's be honest, a writer's income can be... unpredictable), the whole "what if I fail?" existential dread. Yet, here I am, still typing away.  Why?  Because somewhere, deep down, beneath the anxieties and self-doubt, a stubborn flicker of hope persists.  The hope that the next story will be the one, the hope that the next year will be better, the hope that maybe, just maybe, I'll finally master the semicolon. (A man can dream, can't he?)

Hope isn't about ignoring the problems; it's about facing them with the understanding that things *can* change.  We adapt, we evolve, we learn.  We stumble, we fall, and sometimes, we get back up and try again, fuelled by that same quiet, persistent hope.  It’s the belief that even in the darkest night, the sun will eventually rise again.

So, as we stand on the precipice of a new year, let's embrace that hope.  Let's allow ourselves to dream, to plan, to envision a brighter future.  Let's acknowledge the struggles, but also celebrate the small victories, the unexpected kindnesses, the moments of joy that pepper our lives.

Because hope, my friends, is not a luxury; it's a necessity.  It's the fuel that keeps us going, even when the going gets tough.  It's the quiet whisper that reminds us that even in the midst of chaos, there's always a chance for something better.  And perhaps, just perhaps, that's enough.  

Until next time!

Happy February! Have some Free Stuff!

 D'oh!

I almost forgot!

For the next few days two of my Kindle e-books are available for FREE. :)

Surprise Vignettes

and

Capetales

Enjoy!

Happy New Year...Finally

Hello, gentle readers.

It's been a while, hasn't it?

Sorry about that.

I'd like to say that I've had a good excuse for not posting more frequently, but the only one I can offer is that life has just sort of happened and this blog has suffered for it.

Not to worry, though, you haven't really missed anything.

I was working on a new book. It's at about novelette-length, at the moment, but I've put it aside because it has become more a chore than an act of joy, and I'm one of those people who can't write if I don't enjoy what I'm writing.

I know. That's terribly unprofessional of me, but at least I'm being honest.

I have noticed a bit of an uptick in my Amazon sales lately, which is very nice. If I make another, I can afford to buy a bottle of Coke.

Anyway, gentle readers, the holiday season is finally over. I'm a little older, a little wiser, a little more jaded and a little wider.  There's not much I can do about the first three, but I'm trying to get the last under control again.

I hope that the end of 2022 saw you in a better position than when it started and that 2023 has gotten off to a good start.

I will, sincerely, try to post more frequently.

What Scares Me the Most

Tonight, I forgot the password to this blog.

I suppose I could blame it on the glass of wine I'm drinking. Or the general sense of fatigue I've been experiencing for the last two days.

Or perhaps, it's just because I'm getting older. My brain isn't functioning as efficiently as it used to do.

That scares me, gentle reader. Not the spectre of death. Dying happens. It will happen to you. It will happen to me.

No, what scares me is losing who I am. Losing my memories. Becoming some pathetic thing curled up on his side in a state hospital wearing adult diapers and not knowing what's going on from one moment to another.

Losing myself is what scares me the most. Not dying.W

Like the Best Songs Do

It's almost 7PM and I'm sitting at the kitchen table, listening to Siouxsie and the Banshees', Cities in the Dust. It's my favorite song of theirs and it takes me back to earlier days. Not necessarily better days, just earlier.

Honestly, I look back at myself in my twenties and just shake my head. I never got into Trouble (with a capital 'T'), but I did take part in some Shennanigans that I probably shouldn't talk about here, even a billion years later. Those were fun times and this song just takes me back, makes me want to dance around the kitchen table and remember old friends, like the very best song do. 

Rat

 Last night, I was woken from my sleep by the sound of 'something.'  At first, I thought it was just the squirrels playing on the roof. But then the sounds persisted and they sounded like they were coming from inside my bedroom.

I got up and turned on the light, then proceeded to check out my room. Nothing. On a hunch, I opened my bedroom closet door and a goddamn RAT burst out of the corner. It ran through my bare feet and tried to hide in my bedroom. I pulled on some boots, grabbed a broom and hunted for the little bastard for 30 minutes. I couldn't get close enough to whack him (the little fucker was quick!), but I think I put the fear of god into him.

I popped upstairs to get the dog, and when we came back there was no sign of the rat. I did leave the bedroom door open so the little bastard might have escaped the room. But I was so damn twitchy, after hunting the thing for 30 minutes, that there was no way I was going to be able to sleep in that room that night.  I would think every sound I heard would be the rat, moving about, and I kept envisioning it climbing my bedclothes to exact its revenge. Ridiculous, I know, but I went upstairs with the dog and slept on the couch for the rest of the night.

The next morning, I told my roommate what happened. He was very blase about the whole thing. "I'll pick up some traps tonight." Afterwards, I searched the room again but still no sign of the rat. So, I'm pretty sure it made its escape when the door was open. (Hopefully.) 

I eventually crawled into bed again, and tried to get some more sleep with very mixed results.

When I come home tonight, if I hear or see the rat, I'm going to go sleep in the back of my car. And maybe start looking for a new place to live.

What do you want? What do you need?

When we're children, we're often asked by adults what we want to be when we're grown up? The usual answer is some kind of profession. Fireman. Policeman. Soldier. Doctor. Dancer.

If someone asked me that question today, I don't know how I would answer it.

What do you want to be?

I don't know. Rich? Happy? Powerful? Younger? Healthier? Slimmer? Hairier?

You'll note that no profession entered into my answer. Because a job is not a goal. A job is a means to a goal. And I think everyone's goal should be something more intangible than physical.

I would like to be rich. A million dollars would suit me just fine.

I would like to be happy. Sometimes, I don't feel like I'm happy, just 'content.' Not the same thing.

I would like to be powerful. As in, I would like my voice to carry real weight with the world at large.

I would like to be younger. If I could turn back my personal odometer, I'd set it so my body is 23 and my mind is unaffected. (Oh the trouble I could get into!)

I would like to be healtheir. I'm doing okay, but there's always room for improvement en regards to health. Right?

I would like to be slimmer. Because I'm a bit vain and I think it would be nice not to have to struggle to find clothes that fit. I've come a long way in the last few years, but my weird girth can still be challenging.

I would like to have more hair. Again, this is all about vanity. I started to lose my hair when I was in my teens and now, well, throw me in a cassock and I could probably pass for a monk of some type. At least, in appearance. So it would be lovely to have a full head of thick, black hair again.

But, these are just things that I want. They aren't things that I actually need.

So, what do you need?

That's a good question and, beyond the obvious stuff like food, shelter, etc. I don't really know.

I suppose I should give it some thought.

The Perils of Tsundoku

The problem, when you finish reading one book, is that you must choose a new one to start. For most people that isn't a problem, but I, alas, am a victim/practicioner of tsundoku.  For those of you who don't know what that is, it's the practice of acquiring and stacking books that you intend to read at some future point.

I have several stacks of books, scattered about my bedroom. And I have absolutely no idea what to read next.

The current candidates are:

Shambhala: The Sacred Path of the Warrior by Chogyam Trungpa

The Windup Girl by Paolo Bacigalupi

and Magic Lessons by Alice Hoffman.

Any suggestions as to which to read next?

Books & Movies & Writing, oh my!

 I slept in today and it was nice. Because when I finally got up, the sky was gray and it was drizzling rain. Again. 

I am so tired of rain.

Thank heavens it eventually cleared up and the sun came out. It was the sun that drew me out of the house and along the streets, to one of the few bookstores left in my city. There, I bought a copy of Nomadland, the book that the recent movie is based upon. I tried watching the movie, mainly because I think Frances McDormand is an excellent actress, but found it far too slow and boring. I'm hoping that the book will be more engaging.

And, speaking of book, I have the urge to write something for the first time in ages. I've had incomplete works flitting about my head for a while, but I feel like I can maybe get something short down on paper. (Well, on screen. I haven't written anything on paper since my old electric typewriter packed it in, ages and ages ago.) So, I may have something new showing up on my Amazon Page in the future. *fingers crossed*

Less a Pleasure, More an Obligation

On Sunday evenings, I get together with a group of friends. We play games: tabletop RPGs, cards, board games.  It's generally a nice time and I usually look forward to it.

But today, the sun was out and the sky was clear and the thought of gaming just didn't inspire excitement or joy. Perhaps, because of the weather, game night felt less like a pleasure and more like an obligation.

And then, game night was cancelled. Two of the group weren't able to attend and our host wasn't feeling well. It was probably something he ate. So, all of a sudden, I have the night to myself.

And what do I do with this wonderful free time? I drive. I drive out to the overpriced book store in the fancy schmancy mall on the northeast side of town. I drive to a cool little gas station I know of that has the BEST hamburgers. And then, I drive home.

And now I'm sitting in my bedroom, on a second-hand couch that is super-comfy. I've showered and my scalp is still a bit damp. The lights are off and I have a couple of candles burning, as well as some lotus incense.

And I'm sitting here, typing this, feeling cozy and warm and generally content.

There are worse ways to spend a Sunday night.

Tired

 It's been a long, tiring day.  So y'all will please excuse me for not writing anything tonight? I just want to take a shower and maybe go to bed early. 

A Sad Day :(

Today is a sad day for me.  This morning, I received word that my friend, J. Tuberski, had passed away. I am not entirely surprised by this news as Tuberski had a history of heart/circulatory problems. He was about 7 feet tall and I'm told that very tall people often have similar issues. I know that he was on a plethora of blood pressure related medications.

It's been a while since we spoke, but we would email quite a bit.

I'm sad, but I'm doing okay. I'm sitting here, thinking about my friend and remembering his life. I think he had a good one. I think he enjoyed his life. I think that the one thing that would have made his life better is if he could have found a quality lady to share it with. I think he would have liked to have been a husband and father.

My friend is gone now and I will miss him. But I take comfort in the fact that he had a good life that he seemed to enjoy. I hope his passing was gentle.

Goodbye, Tuberski.

Boozy Writers Withering Away in Unheated Garrets

It occurs to me that when I write poetry, I am seldom inspired by anything 'bright' and 'good.' I usually write when I'm feeling down or angry. Negative emotions seem to fuel those particular creative fires, and so I wonder if I need a more stressed and negative environment to write anything at all?  It's an interesting question, at least from my point of view. And if it's true, it might explain that old trope of the boozy writer whithering away in an unheated garret.

If there is any truth to it then I'm afraid I won't ever be a successful write. I enjoy comfort far too much to sacrifice it for 'art.'

Does that make me weak? Or sensible?

Apple Whiskey and Nina Simone

 I'm sitting here this evening sipping apple whiskey and listening to Nina Simone.  I should feel very chill right now but I don't. I feel restless, like I should get up and go run around the neighborhood. Or get in my car and just drive into the night and see where the road takes me.

It's not a great feeling.

Annie Lennox was too right....

The rain never ends.

It falls in sheets of gray doom.

I'm ready for sun.

Yes. In case you can't tell, it's been raining cats and dogs here for the last three days and I am sooooo over it. I'm more over the rain than I am of the pandemic. 

Still, it could be worse.

At least, I don't live in Texas.

Valentine's Day

I don't like Valentine's Day.

I don't think I ever really did.

Even back in grade school, it felt like a chore, like a lie. You had to get a valentine card for everyone in the class, even the kids that you didn't like.

As time went by, thankfully, that ridiculous ritual came to an end. You could pick and choose who you showed your affections to on the day.

And that's my biggest problem with it. A lot of people wait until Valentine's Day to show the person they care about that they care in a deliberate, meaningful way.

There are 364 other days of the year when you could give someone flowers, or candy, or take them out for a nice dinner.

Valentine's Day is kind of a day for thoughless assholes making a token gesture of affection.

Vampire Dreams

Last night, under the influence of either vodka or fruit, I dreamed of vampires. The dream was set in Washington D.C., during the 1990s, and the vampires were mainly hotel staff, concierges and the like. They were established and friendly, and a bit put out by the arrival of a new group of vampires that called themselves the Golden Mob.

Honestly, I would try to write this down as a story, but I don't think I could do it justice. The dream felt like it wasn't mine, as if I had somehow tapped into something dreamed by Hunter S. Thompson or Terry Pratchett. It was very peculiar and I woke up this morning feeling unsatisfied that I never learned the resolution of the conflict with the Golden Mob.

(I must admit that I LOVE the name Golden Mob for a group of vampires.)

Drunk

 So, I have had a bottle of vodka and some lemonade and I am quite drunk as I write this. Please forgive any mispellings because, well, I'm smashed off my tits.

I suppose that I shouldn't be writing at all, but I have said I 'm going to write something here every day for a year. So, this is what I'm writing. If you don't like it, go read someone else's blog. Ha!

Why do I drink? Well, why shouldn't I drink? Why shouldn't we all have a drink? It can be relaxing and it can release our inhibitions so tha we say what's on our minds without that pesky editor in the way. Honestly, when I drink, I think I become more truthful. Also, horny. Booze just seems to set off my libido in a way that wine does not.

Sadly, I am meant to get up tomorow and take my friend out to do his laundry. Thank God we have scheduled this for later in the afternoon, because the morning is going to be completely out of the question. Honestly, 2PM might be too fucking early. Ha!

Anyway, here is today's entry. Enjoy. If you have some booze in your house, pour yourself a glass and join me in a virtual slug. 

I shall talk with you all tomorrow.