Brian Keene is a great writer and I really dig his blog, especially when he goes into full-on rant mode.
Sounds like he cruised by the ol’ Shocklines board recently. Makes me glad I gave up on message boards a long time ago. Yes, yes, I’m sure the board you post on is just wonderful, but in my experience it only takes one or two dicks to ruin it for everyone. I figure my time (and my words) are better spent on my writing.
I can’t remember the last time I bought a CD. It was probably the latest Tragically Hip, which, if memory serves, my wife bought for me while we were on our honeymoon in Nova Scotia. That was a good album. The one I bought today is good, too. It’s the long-awaited follow-up to the Twin Peaks soundtrack released way back in 1990. For years fans have been waiting for the music from TP’s second season to be released, but it was only recently that they finally got their wish. Not sure why Lynch finally obliged them, considering the big snafu over the deleted scenes to Fire Walk With Me that never appeared, but it’s nice to finally see it.
So if you’re a Twin Peaks fan, this is probably the next best thing to another movie or TV series.
Received my contributors’ copies of Cemetery Dance #58, featuring my story “Inheritor” and a slew of others by excellent authors like Stephen Graham Jones, Gerard Houarner, and Sarah Monette, just to name a few. The issue is a tribute to the late Charles L. Grant and features a reprint of his story, “This Old Man.” There’s also book and movie reviews, and interviews with T.E.D. Klein and David Morrell. All in all, an extremely impressive issue. (Next month’s looks even better, with new fiction by Brian Keene and Sarah Langan. I would’ve loved to have been in that one, too!)
I also received a package from Apex Publications containing Jennifer Pelland’s very attractive collection, Unwelcome Bodies, and a copy of the anthology Aegri Somnia which appears to have been signed by all the contributors. A little bonus I didn’t know about when I ordered it. Very groovalicious.
Kat and I took Friday off and headed to Ottawa for the weekend. I had offered to help my sister-in-law Carrie and her hubster Glenn paint their basement, some help that they especially needed after Glenn separated his shoulder last week playing soccer. So we spent Friday afternoon and Saturday morning painting, and I have to say we did a pretty good job.
Friday night we went to a restaurant called The Works, a place known for their unusual hamburgers, like the SK8R BOY that Glenn got, which has peanut butter, jack cheese, and bacon. I had a bite and it was actually pretty good. I had the Chili Milli, which had chili, cheddar cheese, and sour cream. We’ll definitely be making a trip back there on our next visit.
Saturday night we celebrated the end of painting with a bunch of drinks and pizzas, and then we played some very drunken Euchre. We had rented The Host, but didn’t get around to watching it. I figure after my bad experience with Predator last weekend that this was probably a good thing.
We left Sunday morning after a big breakfast and I’ve spent the rest of the day doing very little at all. Didn’t get any writing done this weekend, but I figure that’s okay, I’m due for a break. I’m almost finished reading my book, though, and look forward to reading more of Christopher Moore’s work.
In honour of this momentous occasion, I present:
The Black Tree
The woodsman swung the ax and struck the black tree with a meaty thunk. The sap that ran out of the wound was red.
The woodsman scratched his head. “I’ve never seen one bleed before,” he said.
A thick branch swung down and knocked the woodsman to the ground.
“Neither have I,” the tree replied.
–
Originally published in 55 Words.
The Trailer Park Boys are coming to Peterborough!
It’s greasy, but I’m going.
Had a nice, relaxing weekend with my wife and cat. We finished our spring cleaning, raking all the leaves in our yard and the boulevard (we have a corner lot, so this was quite a bit of work), cleaning off the front and back deck, putting up my snazzy new wasp killer (basically it’s a glass jar with a hole in the bottom that traps wasps since they can’t fly down, apparently), and got the barbecue ready for its maiden voyage of the season.
Friday night we had friends over. Many margaritas and daiquiris were consumed, we watched Orgazmo, and then we played SingStar, which I suck at. Saturday we went out for breakfast, then to the Lakefield butcher for some meat, and spent the rest of the day lazing around on the back deck. We got Thor a harness and lead that lets him run around the back yard. He really digs it. Here’s a picture:
Later that night I ended up going over to my neighbour’s for beer (he has Alexander Keiths on tap!), many tall glasses were ingested, and Kathryn actually came over to join us. We both got pretty ripped, then stumbled home and watched Predator. I have to add that watching Predator when you’re drunk, with all the weird alien growls and tracking-laser sounds, is pretty freakin’ weird. I don’t recommend it.
Speaking of Predator, Kat and I also watched Aliens vs. Predator: Requiem which wasn’t very good at all, certainly not as good as the first one, which wasn’t very good either, especially when compared to either of the franchises from which it came. AVPR was particularly bad, though. Dumb characters, horrible dialogue, and all the action scenes were so dark you couldn’t tell what was going on. My favourite part was when the female army character, whom I called G.I. Jane, watches her husband get snacked on by an alien, and then about ten minutes later she’s shamelessly flirting with another character as if they were on a first date. Dumb, dumb, dumb.
As I was saying, we had our first barbecues of the season. Saturday night I made a nice ribeye steak for myself, a spicy buffalo chicken kabob for Kat, and tonight we splurged and got a nice big pork tenderloin stuffed with apples and other goodness. I barbecued while Kat made roasted sweet potatoes with butter and brown sugar.
And to top off the weekend, I received an e-mail from Dark Recesses, one of the Canadian markets I’ve been trying to crack, saying that my story “Gone” has been short-listed for possible publication, and that I should get a final answer soon. It’s not an acceptance, and I’m not getting my hopes up, but it’s still nice to hear, just the same.
I just spilled a rum and Coke my wife brought downstairs for me, dousing three books: Inferno, edited by Ellen Datlow (faaack!); Lost Girls, by Andrew Pyper; and Eleanor Rigby, by Douglas Coupland.
All three are now stained and will probably forever smell like rum, like my office which now smells like… well, a writer’s office.
"The Nanny"
in Nossa Morte #3
