In which I tell you nuffink! NUFFINK!

I have no idea what that line is actually from, but it’s running through my head.

I met with my therapist on Tuesday.  My wife had the day off, since she’s a state employee and it was election day, and when I got home she asked me how it had gone and what we’d talked about.  And then she got this weird look on her face and said “Well, unless you can’t really talk about it, or something like that.”

“I’m a blogger,” I said.  “I tell 20,000 people what happened to me today three times a day.  Yes, I will share my discussion with my therapist with my wife.”

And I did.

And, uh, here’s the problem: I’ve got a hell of a lot I want to talk about, but damn near all of it is embargoed for some reason or another, most of them having something to do with my real life and counting unhatched chickens and various things like that.  So instead I’m going to just write this frustratingly ambiguous blog post and leave you with a music video, since it’s Friday no goddammit it’s Thursday screw it you get a Friday song anyway.

Hah.  I’m a rebel like that.

ANOTHER!

WHY NOT, ONE MORE

…aaaand I’m spent.

Ugh

Medication’s screwing with me again today.  If I was a computer game I’d be lagging– I turn my head, and it’s like it takes a while for the world to turn with me.

I think I’ll take a nap.

FYAC, DIAF

giphy-1Naturally, this happens the week after Searching for Malumba comes out.  Consider it a bonus story.

I have a number of former students with whom I am in at least irregular contact.  One of them, a former DC student, which is why she has my phone number, reliably texts me three or four days a week about something or another.  Today I got a text from her as I was leaving the house.  She was griping about her teeth; she’d just been to the dentist and had them (apparently rather thoroughly) cleaned, and they hurt.  I reassured her that it was unlikely that her teeth were going to hurt forever and went on my way– which, at that particular time, involved going and getting in my car to go pick up my son.  A moment later, I got three more picture texts– I can tell when someone sends me a picture because of the way my watch shows me the notification, but can’t actually get a thumbnail or anything.

I, waiting at a red light, glanced at the pictures a couple of minutes later and realized that she’d sent me three pictures of her new high school, since they just moved.  She thinks it looks like a jail.  She’s right.

I don’t text while driving often (he said) but when I do, I voice text, and it’s generally pretty damn accurate.  I sent her the following message:

It took me a minute before I had a chance to look at those and at first I thought you had sent me pictures of your teeth.

Because, of course, she’d just come from the dentist!  Smile a couple of times– hell, point the camera at the filling in your molar, hell if I know– and send off the pictures of your nice freshly cleaned teeth.  Not an out-of-context picture of a jail-like school building.

I glanced at my phone before hitting Send.  Thank fucking God.

It took me a minute before I had a chance to look at those and at first I thought you had sent me pictures of your titties.

WHAT THE FUCK, VOICE TEXT.  This is supposed to be an adaptive program, right?  It learns your voice and all that shit.  Y’all have been reading me for a minute.  You know I swear.  You have hundreds of thousands of words of my writing to wade through on this site.  I dare you to find another place where I said “titties.”   Why the fuck would my phone think I said “titties” when I said “teeth”?

I’d have had to drive off a bridge.  I’d have had to find a bridge, because hell if I can think of where the closest one is off the top of my head, and then I’d have to drive off of it, because my only options at that point would have been to be arrested or to become an internet meme.

Phones are stupid.

On politics, local and otherwise

556df89552158.imagestill have never received an “I VOTED!” sticker, by the way.

Surprising absolutely no one, including, one hopes, his opponent, Mayor Buttigieg was re-elected last night by a fairly astonishing 80-20 margin in an election with turnout so low that they mayoral election was determined on the basis of less than 11,000 votes.  One of which was mine.  As I’ve said before, one of the weird things about elections lately is that I’ve been in the weird position of knowing, or at least being acquainted with, many of the candidates.  I’ve known Mr. Buttigieg’s opponent for something like five or six years (and she is a crazy person par excellence; I suspect the vast majority of her votes were from people just voting straight ticket rather than voting for her specifically, and I can probably come pretty close to proving that with math if I need to) and I knew both candidates in one of the city council races and the winner in another.  I have not actually met the mayor, but your may recall that I nearly killed him once.

The last time this feeling was this strong was in 2008 and it was worse; not only had I been living in Barack Obama’s district when he was a state Senator and thus had already voted for him a couple of times, but I’ve met and talked with Jeremiah Wright and, well, take a look at the dedication page in Searching for Malumba if you’ve picked it up already.  Hell, I think you can get to it through the “Look Inside” feature on Amazon if you want.

I will say this: other than the mayor himself, our ballot was not exactly rich with fine public servants this time around.  In particular, the local Republican party badly needs a kick in the ass; this is the third election in a row, I think, where most races either went unopposed, meaning the Democratic primary was the actual election, or the Republicans ran a local malcontent or obvious lunatic for the role.  Mr. Buttigieg’s opponent had this to say about the mood of the city:

 Honestly, I think the city is just ready for someone who is just the average person. Someone that’s just like the rest of them.

Call me an elitist if you want, I’m fine with that, but shut the fuck up.  No, I do not want an average person to run my fucking city, and I sure as hell do not want someone who is “just like” the 90%-of-these-motherfuckers-didn’t-show-up-to-vote assholes who populate this place.  I want my town run by people who are visibly and clearly above average in a lot of ways.

Note that, for the record, I’m entirely capable of being critical of Democrats when they run afoul of my standards as well.  Remember, I lived in Chicago for ten years, so I know a corrupt Democrat when I see one, and the city’s being run by a cabal of corrupt scumbags even as we speak who have Ds next to their names.  One of the two city council races was populated by a local madman who has been arrested on a number of occasions and once posted a picture to his official Facebook page of a man fucking a dog.  His opponent, who I know, was mired in some ethics difficulties of her own, but frankly I accept her explanation for what was going on and she passes the “not obviously crazy” criterion which elevates her far above her opponent.  And she won by a 2:1 margin, too.

This is part of the reason I want a more functional local Republican party despite disagreeing with damn near every single one of their policy positions: because whenever you have one-party government, that party gets fat, lazy, and corrupt.  Better Republicans, please, but better Democrats too.

And, because I may as well go ahead and point this out: y’all who just met me as the proprietor of Infinitefreetime have not seen me during a Presidential election season yet.  Expect the number and volume of posts about politics to begin ramping up.  I’ve done my damnedest to keep politics to a minimum here (yes, that’s been a minimum) but that’s probably not going to last much longer.  For the record, I don’t really have a dog in the Democratic fight; I’ve had massive issues with Hillary Clinton in the past but she appears to have learned from previous mistakes and while I don’t like Bernie Sanders’ fans all that much (honest truth: they remind me of Hillary’s people from 2008) I have nothing against the man himself and I’ll vote for whichever of them wins the primary.  I don’t know who I’d vote for in the primary yet but there’s plenty of time before then.  I recognize that Martin O’Malley still thinks he’s a candidate, but… c’mon.

As far as the Republicans, I’d like it if they get over this thing they do at the beginning of every primary season and give each of the non-politician crazies a chance before setting on a politician who may or may not be crazy.  Trump appears to (finally!) be waning in favor of Ben Carson, who is not much better and may well not be better at all, and since Jeb! doesn’t really seem to actually want the job I expect the nomination to eventually go to Marco Rubio.  I have no idea how Ted Cruz even got elected in Texas; the man literally has the most punch-demanding face I’ve ever seen in my entire life and in general he has the look of someone who must have seawater poured over him by a slave with a silver cup every night in order to keep his outer covering moist and yet free of its natural protective layer of slime.

I will admit that a Presidential contest between a woman and a Latino (what’s Rubio’s precise background?  I should look him up.) would make me happy on some level.  I’m not including Cruz in this because he has to convince me he’s not a lizard before being half-Cuban counts.

The rest of those nitwits aren’t worth comment.

(NOTE: Rubio’s Cuban.  And an actual anchor baby, which I wasn’t aware of. Suddenly very curious about his position on immigration.)

This entire post is a subtweet

And good riddance.

Oh, by the way

Skylights is free today, in case you haven’t picked it up yet.  Go.  GO NOW!

510Cy7ZwEHL._SX338_BO1,204,203,200_

August 15, 2022: the Tycho, the most advanced interplanetary craft ever designed by the human race, launches from Earth on an expedition to Mars. The Tycho carries four passengers, soon to be the most famous people in human history. 

February 19, 2023: The Tycho loses all communication with Earth while orbiting Mars. After weeks of determined attempts to reestablish contact, the Tycho is declared lost. 

2027: Journalist Gabriel Southern receives a message from a mysterious caller: “Mars.” Ezekiel ben Zahav isn’t talking, but he wants Southern to accompany him for something– and he’s dangling enough money under his nose to make any amount of hardship worth it.  

SKYLIGHTS is the story of the second human expedition to Mars. Their mission: to find out what happened to the first.

This is probably a dumb idea

Prostetnic hi-res cropped

Benevolence Archives, Vol. 1 is about 140 pages in print and costs me about $2.35 to print if I order copies for myself.  It’s $7.99 at Amazon because I want to make a little profit on it and both ‘zon and Createspace take a chunk of their own.

If I was to do a “Prostetnic Publications Sampler”, something simple– white cover, the logo and some lettering, with, like, 20 pages from each of my books, at minimal print cost, say trying to hold it to $1 a book and really only make it exist to have it at cons, do you think something like that would sell or do me any good?  I’d do a sample chapter or two from each book and maybe a couple of blog posts to promo the website, maybe a short story as a bonus, and call it a day.  For, again, minimal cost to me to print and no more than $2 to buy.

My wife thinks this is a terrible idea and I see her point, but I want to get a couple more opinions.  This will obviously never sell at Amazon, but I might be able to get somewhere with it at cons.  Or maybe my wife is right (she often is) and I should drop the entire idea.

What say you, Internet?

aaaaugh

So sometime last week I scheduled this song to pop this morning, assuming that I’d be happily on my way to work to go teach some chidrens who I do, yes, actually miss by now:

But then, instead of going to work, I had another fucking panic attack this morning, and suddenly posting a video about how I’d rather be playing the drums instead of at work, when I really would like to go to work like a fucking grown-up now, seemed kinda rude and a little like mockery of the people who were actually at said job.

So I did something I’ve almost never done, and deleted the post.

(And then almost accidentally forgot to post today, because I was thinking I already had.)

I saw the doctor again this afternoon, and… actually, I’m not talking about it any more until I know more about what’s up.  But… yeah.  Not the greatest news I’ve ever been given by a medical professional.

I will not be at work again tomorrow, or this week again.  More later, when I know more.

Getting desperately tired of this.