Still betoweled

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What am I doing?

I’m still wearing those towels and drinking a brew.

I’m a few days ahead on ‘RM, but I’m pretty unmotivated right now. I published my anthology and am still waiting for my first sale of any sort. Well, I ordered one for myself at the author’s rate. I suppose I could have ordered one at the full rate, just to make my numbers exist.

I told you so.

Somewhere in my brain that phrase lingers. People don’t buy your books, not unless you have a major publisher, or unless you are willing to prostitute yourself. As I have said before, I value my privacy, and in fact my job depends on it. Unless I’m selling thousands of copies, I won’t be able to quit that job, and I probably won’t sell thousands of copies until I quit that job, if then.

Promotion, marketing … a face. I suppose I could do a little of the first two, but that last one, I can’t. Now now. Sell a few copies. It’s called vanity publishing.

I’m vain. I thought I could sell a book.

Hey Anne! I’d buy it! Where are you now? I know it isn’t a novel, but I’m hardly going to serialize a novel … well, I’m doing just that. Obviously, I would give it a couple or three major rewrites before I published it. That’s why The Cult of Hahn isn’t going up in this space or at TCoA. For what it’s worth, I probably won’t consider publishing it until my followers number in the thousands, which probably means never. I’ve been working on it over a decade, and there is (at present) no motivation to finish it.

Right now, I will have to live with the dozen or so that read ‘Round Midnight each day for self-confirmation. That said, I don’t need the affirmation, I just need to write, and do it regularly. Maybe someone will discover my 8-10 novel-length forays into relevance after I’m gone.

Right now, I am not relevant as a writer.

Perhaps, I’m not relevant altogether. Maybe I am just kidding myself. Yes, there are a handful of people out there in WordPress-land and in the WritersCafe that have time for me and tell me as much. I do appreciate it very much.

Right now, I’ve decided to leave the new writing to ‘Round Midnight and re-post a series from my early WritersCafe days on EJO, and blog my personal thoughts here. I posted that series when I had some relevance on the WC. I really was one of the top 5 writers there in their ranking system when at any time you looked, there would be over 500 writers logged on. The place itself has lost its relevance. At this moment, there are 18 writers logged on. So, I’m irrelevant in an irrelevant venue. At one time, I had nearly 500 followers there, now many of the 280 that I have left haven’t logged on in a decade. Anyway, it is called My Seven Deadly Sins, and most of the chapters were well-received on the WC. I’ve put them in a different order here. Not sure why, maybe to hide the one that people didn’t like. I’m not sure I do now, but I’m leaving it as is, because I am past that now.

Time to finish my brew and make some dinner.

Still no fist

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I’m still unable to find tuna for my lunch. I could go to the store and buy some to make my own tuna salad, but that would be cheating.

I’ve been away from the cards lately, but Fish is not my game of choice. I was at one point in my life obsessed with Pinochle, but it is such a complicated game, none of my friends wants to play, and I’m just plain bad at Bridge. I’ve never understood why. I rarely lose at Spades or Hearts. It’s the intimidation factor I think. I force mistakes.

I should qualify that. I have played Bridge with humans precisely once, and I won. However, for a while I tried to become good, buying a Bridge program for my computer and even a book on ACOL. At the beginner level, I lost EVERY game. Repeat EVERY! game. You can’t intimidate a computer. I do not play Bridge anymore.

I’m very competitive. 

In some things. I’m not always better than you. Honest. OK, I have my opinions, but so do you. You are entitled to them. I’m not a better writer than you. I just write a lot. I just vomit out words and some people like them.

Some don’t. I don’t appeal to everyone, and my opinions are just that. MY opinions.

Infinite Monkey Theorem at work, right?

Why the fist? I typed it by accident and decided to leave it. There is a little Ezzie in me after all, or maybe there is a little me in Ezzie. (Well I’m the fuckin’ author! There should be.)

Apologies. I just felt like swearing.

There are two of me today. One is tired and cranky. The other actually had a good day today.

Sometimes I like being crackly. Yeah, I typed that by accident, too. I’m a lacquer 10″ record, singing an old song that nobody remembers. I’m a cliche.

I’m rambling. (Nothing to see here.)

Prompts, promptly

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I wrote about my lack of dreams last time, and that seems to have shifted somewhat. I’m still not sleeping well, so my dreams have been fragmentary, but I have had some. That means I’m still not past having to use fantasy to divert myself.

One of the ways I used to do that was to create ridiculous scenarios and run with them (that’s where the last novel idea sprang from), so here are a few:

Sixth Gear. Sunni has bought a new 10-speed bike to ride to work. She tends to favor 1st, 3rd, 5th, and 10th gears, that was until she found 6th, and it changed her life … or should I say – lives.

Everywoman. Clare was a normal woman, with a normal family, working a normal job, and was happy. What was that she stepped in while crossing a busy street? Bubble gum? Hardly. She watched with dread as her body transformed into molten glass, vaporizing her clothes. Nothing to see here folks! I mean it. Look away now!

Itch. Every morning, Sandy woke up with an itch. She could never predict where it was going to be – her wrist, her hip, the back of her neck – and it would last all day. Her doctor could give no explanation. Today was different, though. It was inside her skull, and it made a noise, sounding like radio chatter from the other side of the universe. It was.

Elvin. Serena hid her pointed ears under a mop of curly red hair. She was smaller and thinner than most people, and she could hear a sneeze a mile away. Why a sneeze? Because that is what it always was, and she was determined to find the source.

So … entries on a post card, or whatever.


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Today’s haiku was a stretch. I stooped to the random word generator, and it gave me “mouth”. I’ve tried several of these, and they rarely give me as interesting words as I would get by opening a dictionary and poking my finger down and getting something like paroxysm. That would have been a good word for today, except that I’m stuck with mouth, hence you get : No Words

I’m reminded that my last few blogs have been written by my evil twin, no fun Anne, or drip city, also known as the walking black cloud. Maybe I’ll delve into the political, not the endless self-mutilation of Brexit, but Ambassador-gate, or truth-gate, or bloody-frickin’-obvious-gate. Leaked emails from the British Ambassador reveal that he thinks what we all think: that the amateur President is inept, insecure, and an accident that is already happening. Surprise, surprise! (Yes, I’m old enough to remember Gomer Pyle, well maybe not the first run, but maybe early reruns.) Now, I read that it is a Brexiteer conspiracy. Honestly, what good would that do?

Wait a minute, it’s fun Anne with a new haiku!

A paroxysm.
must for an organism,
sudden orgasm.


Errr, today’s card:

3 of Wands. Virtue.

I like this card. I feel like it is the one I have been waiting for. It indicates progress, opportunities (overseas?). If the Ace of Wands is the seed of the idea, then the 3 is its conception and manifestation. It’s the beginning of Spring.

I’m going to take this card and run with it. Maybe the time is ripe for inspiration. Don’t change the channel! Break out the red velvet carpet, the sumptuous pillows, the champagne, the cloak of many colors! My rentboy is coming home!

*opens a box of chocolates and starts eating*

(Expansion is another interpretation of this card.)

  1. a sudden attack or outburst of a particular emotion or activity.
    a paroxysm of weeping”

It’s not cricket!

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Actually, yes it was. I was asked to be 11th “man” on a cricket team yesterday, and ever the sporty type (as well as constant rain in the forecast), I agreed. It was pouring rain when I left to drive into town, but it cleared up by the time I arrived. I figured they would hide me down at the bottom of the order, and after briefly penciling me in at No. 1, I found myself more logically at No. 7. We fielded first and were hemorrhaging runs for the first few overs, but after the first two wickets, their order wasn’t very deep. They finished their 20 overs at 87 for 8, an attainable goal, as we were surprisingly deep in batting. For a while it looked like we would beat their total without me batting at all. With 3 overs to go and a tie score, I padded up. All we needed was one to win. A wicket maiden, and I was in at the non-striker’s end with a competent batter at the other end. Or so I thought. Three balls – oompf. Wicket. Another competent batter in. Nothing. Last over, I’m now the striker. I’m facing one of their good bowlers who they saved for the end. I tried hard not to think about it too much. (I did play a little cricket when I lived here.)

One ball, one swing, one run. Victory. My tiny contribution to a winning cause.

I should give you a little history. I used to play a lot of softball and a little bit of hardball (with my brother and his friends) when I was young, so I’m not afraid of a ball coming at me at speed.

Apologies to my American friends who have no idea what I’ve been talking about.

Anyway, I hadn’t thought to prepare myself for bright sunshine throughout and have morphed into a lobster.

2 of Wands. Dominion.

I guess that explains it. There is no gain without pain. You must destroy the old to start anew … which doesn’t really fit in this case, but we won, and I sacrificed my body for the cause. I even dove for a possible catch. (It fell tantalizingly short of my outstretched hands.)

Oh yes. My summer solstice haiku: sunburn.