Thursday, May 27, 2010

Thursday Thirteen

I just found If Shoes Could Kill dot com the other day and just had to share. The variety is astounding! It was very kind of them to provide links, making my list easy.

1. It does beat stepping in poo...

crazy shoe photos - Hey You Stepped in Something!

2. Can you imagine trying to keep these clean?

crazy shoe photos - If Tim Burton Were a Middle Aged Woman

3. Not bad, as long as you don't get ants...

crazy shoe photos - When You Want to Feel Like You Are Eating Donuts in the Park

4. I can't decide if I'm more horrified or amused...

crazy shoe photos - How to Make Your Cat Hate You


5. And to follow a theme...

crazy shoe photos - Hamster Exploitation


6. I hate going barefoot, so these just make me cringe...

crazy shoes - A Podiatrists Nightmare


7. Ditto...




8. An ode to the "Tron" remake?

Crazy Shoes - TRON Heels


9. All right, these are kind of cool. They would also help me stand taller at rock concerts, but I suppose bouncers wouldn't let me in if they won't allow me to carry a lousy pen in my purse...

Crazy Shoes - Is This Ammo Or Accessories?


10. Just... wow?

crazy shoes - What Would the Pope Say?


11. Footwear? Or should I get my bug spray?




12. Feathers! I like!



13. I definitely want these...

crazy shoe photos - Instead of Brains, These Zombies Moan for Toes

Thursday, May 20, 2010

Thursday Thirteen

I am smitten with the sound of Japanese artists Dir en grey (ディル・アン・グレイ) and can’t resist spreading the word about their diversified rock sound. I have purchased every studio album, just over seven hours worth of music. Their music is so varied that it never ceases to engage me. I decided to list thirteen great songs just for fun.

In keeping with the eclectic nature of their sound, the band follows no rules on spelling or grammar and I’ve decided to list them just as they appear in my iTunes folder. There are plenty of other greats spelled out in Japanese characters; I’m obviously sticking with Romaji titles for this purpose.

mazohyst of decadence ~ Crying babies added to the soundtrack make this hauntingly over-the-top in an Alice Cooper sort of way. I love it. What can I say? The organic instrumentals are chilling alongside Kyo’s often plaintive vocals. This nine minute mini-epic delivers from beginning to end.

AGITATED SCREAMS OF MAGGOTS ~ If the music weren’t great on its own, the sketchily drawn animated video for this broke the mold on offensive. I was instantly hooked when the visuals grossed out my partner. It’s impossible to play this one and not see that horrific maggot-man come to life.

Marmalade Chainsaw ~ The name alone recommends it. The shouting in alternate left/right input is disorienting. Hopefully, I’ll understand enough Japanese some day to know what Kyo’s crooning/growling/wailing.

egnirys cimredopyr +) an injection ~ Don’t ask me what that means. The endlessly varied vocalizations blow me away.

Spilled Milk ~ My favorite part is probably what sounds like church bells in the opening and then again toward the end.

Berry ~ The sinister, cartoony voice of a little American girl at the opening makes up for the fact that I can’t decipher any of the Japanese words through this tune. Every performer is on fire with the driving punk beat, further proof that Dir en Grey’s style cannot be tacked down. Additional English vocals midway through provide a domestic soundtrack from hell and a ricochet gunshot following Kyo's ending shriek is almost too quick to give you chills. Almost.

Gaika, Chinmoku Ga Nemurukoro ~ Drums! Growls. Screams! This has guitars that rock and lyrics I can’t yet decipher. Need I say more? Clearly, I’ve said both plenty and nothing.

Deity ~ Haunted house sounds open this tune and a suggestion of Indian influence underlies the scary noises with a melodic start before guitars blast through to take over. It’s rather reminiscent of Marilyn Manson’s early Spooky Kids performances.

Cage ~ A music box opening reminds me of another favorite Japanese group, the disbanded Malice Mizer, but the comparison ends there. Guitarists and percussionist do a great job of mimicking the sound until they back off for Kyo’s straightforward singing to take over.

Bottom of the death valley ~ The one word I recognize here is one to indicate something is very bad. Then a surprising middle riff defies that logic with a beautiful bluesy sound.

ROTTING ROOT ~ More great guitars and drum-work lead to greatly varied vocals. Kyo goes from a baritone croon to a warbling falsetto screech and fierce growly yell. He even lets out a few asthmatic gasps before totally strangling at the end. It's no wonder he's been hospitalized with inflamed vocal cords!

Audience Killer Loop ~ The start has an apocalyptic feel that morphs in astonishing ways through the piece.

THE PLEDGE ~ This is just a rich, decadent tune that shows off Kyo’s lyrical side. It also showcases the musicians’ talent for more euphonic harmonies as well as cutting-edge clamor.

Wednesday, May 19, 2010

Michael and the Fantastical Flying Feline

Today’s ficlet is a complete bit of silliness. I found inspiration from a great set of parameters that Mahlee Ashwynne has proposed for a story challenge on Romance Divas. If you’ve never checked RD out, it’s a fun place where writers (professional and aspiring) nurture, challenge, and educate one another.

It’s a great challenge, Mahlee! I hope someone can take up the gauntlet soon. In the meantime, while currently out of the running to be challenged, I couldn’t resist playing with her interesting criteria, which I’ll paraphrase here:

Your characters are in a heated argument at a cat show over a hairless sphinx. Why, when, and where are left up to the author. Who wins the argument and how? Included items: a swimming pool, pistachio ice cream in a cone, gold glitter, and a tattoo of Tutankhamen.

Michael and the Fantastical Flying Feline

“It’s not an alien,” Simon insisted, peering at the hairless animal from the distant side aisle. “It’s a cat, Michael, just like all the others at the show, if uglier.”

“I know what it’s supposed to be. I also know that so-called cat is no purebred sphinx.”

“Fine, Michael,” Simon conceded, throwing up his hands. “It’s not a cat. Now can we move on to the refreshment stands? I’m starting to get hungry.”

“I can’t! I need to watch it.”

“You what? I don’t appreciate this petty, childish game. It’s not like you.”

“That’s because I’m not playing, Simon. I think that creature is up to something. Someone needs to keep an eye out. And if you think I’m dumb, what can I say that anyone else will believe?”

“I don’t think you’re dumb, just exasperating.” Simon groaned. “For the sake of argument, let’s say the beast is not just an innocent mammal. What would an alien be doing here? And what has you so convinced?”

“I believe the ambassador that disappeared last night is likely already dead at the hands of the Zerellian Consortium. One of the member worlds is populated by sentient beings that look like that ‘cat’. When they fly, they shed this,” Michael murmured, showing gold glitter on his palm. “I swiped this off its table.”

“Now it’s a fantastical flying feline?”

Ignoring the interruption, Michael continued, “This glittery stuff is what I saw sprinkled around the swimming pool yesterday before police arrived. It looks like the exact same material they found when Senator Bracken disappeared a year ago. One minute, he was at a party talking to the host. The next, the host turned away and Bracken was gone. From eyewitness accounts, police sketch artists ended up with the spitting image for that wrinkled freak. I saw it all on a vid-file last week.”

“You watch too much of that true-crime crap. And anyway, why would the alien still be here? Why not fly away for good? It makes no sense.”

“It does if the job isn’t done. Ambassador Strom took up the anti-Zerellian cause from Bracken but he’s not the only one here that agrees. You happen to be another. Look, I know you think I’m silly.”

“Well, tell me something more. Give me proof that I’m in danger.”

“I don’t have proof or we wouldn’t be standing here.”

“Calm down, Michael. Tell me what else you saw by the pool. You didn’t see a flying cat, I take it.”

“Well, I did think it odd that the pistachio ice cream cone Ambassador Strom had been eating ended up shattered all over the concrete.”

“He probably threw unwanted leftovers toward a trashcan and missed. There, one mystery solved. Stranger would be that cat having a tattoo of Tutankhamen on its backside.”

“Very funny. I think Strom dropped the food while being dragged into the sky. Never mind. I know that look,” Michael sighed. “Forget I said anything.”

At that moment, Simon laid a hand on Michael’s shoulder. The dark eyes flashed in such a way that Michael tracked his gaze to where the subtle gesture indicated.

“Isn’t that the interstellar police? They’re coming right this way,” Simon muttered.

“Simon! Down!”

Not waiting for Simon to comply, Michael felled the older man with a martial arts maneuver. He would apologize later, after they walked away from this adventure.

Twinkling gold showered upon the pair as reptilian wings folded over the back of the airborne homunculus. Where the limbs came from was anyone’s guess. Michael didn’t try. Oversized paws opened into clawed hands as the dreadful little monster dove repeatedly upon the fallen businessman and his horrified lover. Michael shielded Simon as best he could, too focused upon fighting off attack to hear the shots fired over his head.

Michael remained on his knees, half leaning over Simon, whom he’d kept pressed to the floor. The failed assassin flapped one leathery wing, black foam forming on the bifurcated lip as bulbous eyes glazed over. Despite his anticipation, Michael felt utterly discombobulated after the endorphin rush.

“What just happened?”

“I think you officially became my hero.”

-

Tuesday, May 18, 2010

Michael and the Fantastical Flying Feline

Today’s ficlet is a complete bit of silliness. I found inspiration from a great set of parameters that Mahlee Ashwynne has proposed for a story challenge on Romance Divas. If you’ve never checked RD out, it’s a fun place where writers (professional and aspiring) nurture, challenge, and educate one another.

It’s a great challenge, Mahlee! I hope someone can take up the gauntlet soon. In the meantime, while currently out of the running to participate for points, I couldn’t resist playing with her interesting criteria, which I’ll paraphrase here:

Your characters are in a heated argument at a cat show over a hairless sphinx. Why, when, and where are left up to the author. Who wins the argument and how? Included items: a swimming pool, pistachio ice cream in a cone, gold glitter, and a tattoo of Tutankhamun.

Michael and the Fantastical Flying Feline

“It’s not an alien,” Simon insisted, peering at the hairless animal from the distant side aisle. “It’s a cat, Michael, just like all the others at the show, if uglier.”

“I know what it’s supposed to be. I also know that so-called cat is no purebred sphinx.”

“Fine, Michael,” Simon conceded, throwing up his hands. “It’s not a cat. Now can we move on to the refreshment stands? I’m starting to get hungry.”

“I can’t! I need to watch it.”

“You what? I don’t appreciate this petty, childish game. It’s not like you.”

“That’s because I’m not playing, Simon. I think that creature is up to something. Someone needs to keep an eye out. And if you think I’m dumb, what can I say that anyone else will believe?”

“I don’t think you’re dumb, just exasperating.” Simon groaned. “For the sake of argument, let’s say the beast is not just an innocent mammal. What would an alien be doing here? And what has you so convinced?”

“I believe the ambassador that disappeared last night is likely already dead at the hands of the Zerellian Consortium. One of the member worlds is populated by sentient beings that look like that ‘cat’. When they fly, they shed this,” Michael murmured, showing gold glitter on his palm. “I swiped this off its table.”

“Now it’s a fantastical flying feline?”

Ignoring the interruption, Michael continued, “This glittery stuff is what I saw sprinkled around the swimming pool yesterday before police arrived. It looks like the exact same material they found when Senator Bracken disappeared a year ago. One minute, he was at a party talking to the host. The next, the host turned away and Bracken was gone. From eyewitness accounts, police sketch artists ended up with the spitting image for that wrinkled freak. I saw it all on a vid-file last week.”

“You watch too much of that true-crime crap. And anyway, why would the alien still be here? Why not fly away for good? It makes no sense.”

“It does if the job isn’t done. Ambassador Strom took up the anti-Zerellian cause from Bracken but he’s not the only one here that agrees. You happen to be another. Look, I know you think I’m silly.”

“Well, tell me something more. Give me proof that I’m in danger.”

“I don’t have proof or we wouldn’t be standing here.”

“Calm down, Michael. Tell me what else you saw by the pool. You didn’t see a flying cat, I take it.”

“Well, I did think it odd that the pistachio ice cream cone Ambassador Strom had been eating ended up shattered all over the concrete.”

“He probably threw unwanted leftovers toward a trashcan and missed. There, one mystery solved. Stranger would be that cat having a tattoo of Tutankhamun on its backside.”

“Very funny. I think Strom dropped the food while being dragged into the sky. Never mind. I know that look,” Michael sighed. “Forget I said anything.”

At that moment, Simon laid a hand on Michael’s shoulder. The dark eyes flashed in such a way that Michael tracked his gaze to where the subtle gesture indicated.

“Isn’t that the interstellar police? They’re coming right this way,” Simon muttered.

“Simon! Down!”

Not waiting for Simon to comply, Michael felled the older man with a martial arts maneuver. He would apologize later, after they walked away from this adventure.

Twinkling gold showered upon the pair as reptilian wings folded over the back of the airborne homunculus. Where the limbs came from was anyone’s guess. Michael didn’t try. Oversized paws opened into clawed hands as the dreadful little monster dove repeatedly upon the fallen businessman and his horrified lover. Michael shielded Simon as best he could, too focused upon fighting off attack to hear the shots fired over his head.

Michael remained on his knees, half leaning over Simon, whom he’d kept pressed to the floor. The failed assassin flapped one leathery wing, black foam forming on the bifurcated lip as bulbous eyes glazed over. Despite his anticipation, Michael felt utterly discombobulated after the endorphin rush.

“What just happened?”

“I think you officially became my hero.”

May 18th Already?

Today is mine for posting on my group's blog. Come on over for a bit of rambling and a book review...

Neuroses in Little Japan

Friday, May 14, 2010

I'm published!

Granted, my e-book is freely available for downloads, but it was given away prior and therefore, I feel, unethical for me to attempt selling. And it's for a good cause, to promote traffic on Mel Keegan's wiki site, The GLBT Bookshelf! The man kindly put together my humble story with a beautiful cover by Jade. If you're interested in great, gay oriented fiction, come on over for some great titles! Please stop by and support our various artists:

Free Gay Reads

Below you'll find an excerpt. First, I need to rectify an error. I neglected to credit any of the wonderful folks who aid and inspire my writing. Special thanks to Dilo Keith, A. Catherine Noon, Nikki Memmott, Evilynne, and Myladymystere! You've all improved my writing (any and all shortcomings are mine alone). For anyone not listed, please forgive my need for brevity!

Now, meet Michael Blanc, Corporate Stress Reliever by trade and optimist by choice. He knows all too well that life can throw rotten fruit in your face. In 2186, Michael makes the most of just desserts. Employed as confidante and lover to those that make up the whipped cream topping on that big apple pie, New York, New York, Michael has survived the whipping and now nibbles a nice, big slice of the pie.

Excerpt from "Memoirs of a Corporate Stress Reliever":

“Michael,” Javier crooned. “You look magnifico.”

“I feel magnificent, thanks to you.”

The fact that he used my first name indicates his pride more than anything else he could have said. We both know my relationship with Mr. X is like securing a pension. I don’t plan on ever being exclusively his and that suits me just fine.

I soon reach the car, a classy current model. The firm keeps nothing junky and replaces anything outmoded. That edict extends to people. Today, confident and titillated, I don’t allow the knowledge to bother me in the slightest.

My surety fades as time passes and I am alone in my office to rattle about the space. He’s a busy man whose schedule can change in a heartbeat yet I never failed to get a courtesy call before this. Not from him, understandably, the word filters down to some undersecretary charged with my notification.

I keep telling myself this lapse has nothing of import attached. The unprecedented consideration was never forthcoming in any other organization, let alone from the CEO!

Forcing myself, I eat my lunchtime salad. Gloves and jacket come off for this, then are put right back on when I finish. Half the food tossed, the usually tasty staple held no taste for me. I remain too aware of the clock and Javier’s obviously wasted effort on my appearance, not to mention my waste to the company’s bottom line.

I’m standing in front of the full length mirror primping again when I hear his code unlock the door. Thank the shadow faeries! I couldn’t schedule anyone else in his stead without permission and zero productivity is a black mark no matter what the cause.

Flanking him are two identical young women. Girls, really, they offend me with their presence. How dare he sully my space so? And I can say nothing, essentially owned by way of my contract.

He ushers the dull creatures inside. Eyes bleary, he gropes one unsteadily. She shows no response, obviously doped for smuggling. It makes me sick.

“I brought you a souvenir. There’s one for each of us!”

Bile rising, I swallow my fury and revulsion. Mentally I seek some excuse, a way out, knowing none exists.

“You should see your face. I’m sorry. Bad joke,” he scolds himself. Then he yells at the closed door, “Smith! Take your trash away!”

Turning back to me, he grins lopsidedly. Is he drunk? If I didn’t know better, I’d say he smells like grain alcohol. A decade since prohibition, defunct drinking establishments have all turned into oxygen and juice bars.

The other man makes two attempts with his own code before entering. His nose and cheeks are beet red.

“See? Michael’s not amused. That was mean,” Smith slurs.

He genuinely respects me. I’d been a sympathetic ear over several bad deals and one rotten divorce. I’ll try to forget this procurement of the twins he hauls out of sight. He winks at us behind their skinny backs.

I secure the entrance against additional intrusion. When I turn back, the master of my domain has quietly sprawled in a doze on the couch. Now what?

Remembering my training, I put on his favorite instrumental and take a seat close by. The music has always helped him relax and he sleeps safe and well. This resolution ends my distress if leaving me bored. I try to think of boredom as extravagance instead of what it is. I dislike inactivity. In any case, I have the visit on record.

Allowing my mind to drift, I slip into a waking dream state to halt the encroaching restlessness. My comportment calm, I preserve a rigid posture of ready servitude.

A shift beside me calls back my awareness. Bloodshot eyes regard me. They are not unkind, almost apologetic.

I hope this whets your appetite. A steamier snippet is up on my Sand Castles blog. Happy reading!

Thursday, May 13, 2010

Thursday Thirteen

Because of slightly more adult-oriented content, you can find today's list on my Sand Castles blog. Happy Thursday!

Why I Write

Wednesday, May 12, 2010

Wiley Wednesday

Wiley Wednesdays are posts about the various aspects of writing. Today on my group's blog, you can read my humble contribution regarding rewrites. Come on over, and be sure to check out what my talented cowriters posted in the past. You're sure to find good information and valuable inspiration.

The Writer's Retreat

Friday, May 7, 2010

Skippy's List

My good friend Dilo told me about a very politically incorrect humorist this morning and seriously brightened my day. I've shared this outrageous website on Romance Divas and with my Artist's Retreat members. Why not put it here and catch a few more folks to share a laugh?

This military-based humor is definitely geared toward adult sensibilities, including strong references to sex and BDSM culture, so please click with caution.

Things Skippy is No Longer Allowed to Do

Thursday, May 6, 2010

Thursday Thirteen

Thirteen things that made the science fiction program “Babylon 5” great:

1. Story – I’ve never seen a sweeping story arc so obviously well-planned from the start

2. Location – somehow less constraining even than a gigantic starship, the space station sets never failed to bring something fresh to the eyes

3. Contention – the complicated relationships between the parties of warring factions never ceased to fascinate me

4. Valor – heroes were portrayed realistically: everyday gallantry entails ordinary people doing extraordinary things

5. Economy – rather than being a comic device standing out from a utopian socialist future, money often drove the logical, initial motives of governments and individuals

6. Faith – the good and bad aspects of organized religion were excellent plot devices at times, the various doctrines tremendously important to several races, and no alien beliefs were ever trivialized to the best of my remembrance

7. Transformation – none of the main characters remained static or seemed to become superfluous, and the most pivotal personalities went through radical changes (sometimes physical, always intriguing)

8. Bruce Boxleitner – as John Sheridan, he brought remarkable class to an already stellar cast of actors (I suppose I’ve adored him since “Tron”)

9. The Shadows – those aliens never failed to strike a chord of terror within me

10. Morden – puppet of the Shadows, the sharp-dressed human’s urbane villainy was delicious and never got tiresome

11. Walter Koenig – this iconic actor brilliantly played the unethical Psi Cop Alfred Bester, perhaps best summed up by his fanatical belief in Corps propaganda and its ominous slogan, "The Corps is Mother, the Corps is Father"

12. “A View from the Gallery” – my absolute favorite episode shows an alien attack on the station through the unique POV of two mundane maintenance workers (I have to thank a lucky text search – “workers” – and Wikipedia for finding the name of this episode)

13. G’Kar and Londo – I know I mentioned contention earlier, but their relationship went through astonishing changes

Tuesday, May 4, 2010

Are You Going to Conference?

This week I stopped to look at the ways my inner critic has held me back from getting involved in RWA. This made me realize how fortunate I am to have a plethora of encouraging people behind me...

Writer's Retreat Blog

Monday, May 3, 2010

Sympathy with Sarcasm

After shopping at a bulk department store a week or so ago, I heard my husband yelp as we loaded the trunk. As it turned out, he received a really nasty cardboard paper cut that would have had me cursing a blue streak. Despondently assessing the fat drop of welling blood, he proceeded to reach for the next item in the cart. I couldn’t let him keep working with that painful gash. He needed a napkin or something to stop the bleeding. For one thing, I didn’t want blood staining the carpet of my trunk and immediately stopped him.

“Don’t! I’ll get it.” Barely skipping a beat, I added, “Go bleed.”

Ever since then when he’s feeling superfluous or foolish, he’ll say, “I’ll just go over here and bleed for a while.” Don’t you feel sorry for the guy?