Bunnicula. Do you remember the Bunnicula books? A friend of mine at work lent me the first three books in the new series, written by Howie (not the original dog, but a wirehaired daschund puppy). They have nothing to do with Bunnicula. Instead, they have everything to do with…writing. Very cool. You get the story […]

Recommended reading list. I’m putting this up here mostly for my own benefit. Ladies and Gentlemen…may I present: The Locus Reading list.

La vache! La vache! I don’t know why, but this floats through my head: When I took my semester of Spanish in Chamberlain, SoDak, of which I remember a great deal more than I remember my two years of German in Flandreau, I tried to make a joke about my mother’s age. This is an

Plot. One of the bestest parts of taking a day off of writing in order to plot is that you can delight yourself with the details. The first time I forged through the section currently in front of me, the people at the farmhouse were mindless zombies. Now, I’ve met them, I know where they

Some days… One of the reasons I look forward to coming home from work is that I never know. For instance, the other day when I came home, Lee’d turned on VH1 (we have dish network now, a la Joe) and was watching a classic videos program with Ray. She was dancing around madly. He

Ray. Want to know what Ray looks like with her bangs trimmed? Not quite as much cleavage, though.

Recommend-don’t-tion. Don’t go to Jade Palace, Colorado Springs, Co. Next door is a storefront, “Jade Palace Gifts.” Hours are by appointment only. The glass door and all the windows of this storefront are completely–floor to ceiling–covered by venetian blinds. The paint on the outside of both buildings is suspiciously old, slightly flaking, unkempt. The interior

Film at Eleven. No offense, but I’m going to say something offsensive. I’m sick of a certain type of news commentary that’s a response to original news commentary, specifically, the derivative news commentary that states that the original news commentary is bullshit, and here’s why, with quotes so extensive I should be paying royalties. OK.

Chess. You and I we’ve seen it all chasing our heart’s desires but we go on pretending stories like ours have happy endings…

Dreams. First dream. Well, it starts out as one of those fantasy dreams whose details I won’t divulge, but I start crying because all of a sudden I don’t know where I am, and then I start crying harder because I do realize where I am, and that’s not where I started the dream. Second