B1ue

Just kidding about the title. Actually, Dan is quite possibly the first person to say something positive about my voice. More often, I get made fun of for it, not least because I have a greater degree of control over it. I can pitch it high falsetto, properly, so even that can be easily heard, or I can pitch it low so that it carries through doors and walls. Usually I mumble, which makes those two tricks all the more startling the first time someone hears them. This last week I've been sick, and its only been today that I didn't sound like a drag queen trying too hard. Admittedly, the result did sound kind of interesting. I think my gay superior had to change his shorts after talking to me the other day. I'm pretty damn sure I'm skipping the special anthology. I still can't think of what to write, and I think the entries are due very quickly. So, pass. Ghost should be easy enough. I can think of three or four topics off the top of my head. No time to start cracking like now, I suppose.

Fancy that. Where is your photo gallery by the way? I picked my avatar on a whim out of the general icons the board provides. It's a pokemon, Abra if I remember correctly. I like my telekinetic kit. It looks cool.

When it comes down to it, my screen name is what it is because I used it on Comicality's forum before following him here. The "1"replaced the "l" because "Blue" was already taken at the time, I think. It's also my name because my mother at once point campaigned to have one of my middle names be "Azul." Seeing as I go by my middle name, I'm just as happy she lost that to my outraged Catholic relatives.

Now that it has your attention, start delving into the symbolism inherent in the novel. Mr. Rice learned symbolism at his momma's knee, and in this book he wasn't exactly subtle with it. Start with the names of the five main characters, particularly the diminutive of Stephen.

While not my favorite book anymore, this is a book that changed my life, which I can't off hand apply to any other book. Particularly for the 15-21 crowd, read this book. Just the poetry is jaw-dropping gorgeous. I also liked Christopher Rice's third book, Light Before Day.

30-40s? K, staying in California. Ironically enough, the only time I almost certainly can't attend is the one event that is going to be maybe 20 miles from my front door. Getting time off around the fourth for me is like pulling teeth, where the teeth are armed and have studied ranger tactics.

See what you missed? And I wasn't the cute one.

Well, in the interests in actually doing what this thread is supposed to do. Behold, the only picture from Dallas where I'm not gawky and/or off balance!

Hopefully parking will be a bit better when I go today.

A conversation I had this morning with my sister stationed in Iraq. Her: Hey little brother. Me: Oh, hey sis! How's it going? Her: Good. I got your package. (I laugh) Me: Including the birthday card? Her: Yes. I laughed. Good timing too, since it arrived today. Me: Oh, yeah. Happy birthday. You 40 yet? Her: 36. Me: Close enough. Her: Well, Mom tells me you were moving to Texas. Me: Aigh! For crying out loud, I'm not moving to Texas. Her: I'm just repeating what I've been told. She said you were looking at schools out there. Me: Yeah, two years ago, when I got my degree and suddenly realized I was an adult. Her: I thought you went last week. Me: I did, but it wasn't to find a grad school. It was for gay sex. (True, as far as it goes). Her: You went all the way to Texas for a booty call? Me: What can I say? I have simple needs. Her: You are as bad as your sister. Me: Sisters. You're the one that told me at 13 that Abstinence makes the heart grow fonder. This tour of duty is a lot harder on her than the last was, as bad as the last got towards the end. The birthday card I sent her was a more sentimental one, saying on the front something along the lines of "Happy birthday sister. Though we may not have always gotten along over the years, I've always thought you were pretty special...." Inside the card it said something goopy, but I crossed that out and wrote "Just don't ask what kind of special. Here's a hint, it involves short buses." On the heels of last week, I picked up the rest of Tanya Huff's "Smoke" trilogy. I like them quite a bit, not least of which because the main character is a 24-year-old gay man with a finely honed sense of the ridiculous. Admittedly, they aren't as funny as her "Keeper" novels, but how can I not like a story with lines such as "Given his adversarial relationship with the police, Tony still wasn't sure why he'd told Jack and his partner Geetha Danvers the truth about what happened in the house....Maybe he'd hoped it keep them from hanging around and scowling suspiciously at all and sundry. It had worked on Constable Danvers, not that she'd been the scowling and suspicious sort to begin with, but it'd done sweet f**K all to get Jack Elson out of his life." Taken as a whole, it brought to mind a distinction between male and female heroes in fantasy works. Properly speaking, the hero's journey ends when he has found his place in the world and earned the recognition of his people. A heroine's journey ends when she's married, or at least coupled. A bit sexist, but generally true, as far as stories go. Since Tony spends part in all three novels playing at various times the damsel in distress, the noble warrior, and the world-wise wizard, it is perhaps unsurprising that Ms. Huff doesn't let the story end until Tony gets both his recognition and his man.

I tend to read a lot of fantasy novels. Actually, I read them almost exclusively at this point, aside from internet stories. In the last two weeks, I've been reading: 1. Fortune's Fool by Mercedes Lackey. One of her "500 hundred Kingdoms" novels for Luna, this one is about on par with One Good Knight, but she still hasn't hit the bar set by her first book of this series, The Fairy Godmother. 2. The Sharing Knife: Beguilement and Legacy by Lois McMaster Bujold. Meh. WHich is sad, since she's one of my favorite authors. 3. Nobody's Princess by Esther Friesner. A relatively new author, this entry is a reimagining of Helen of Troy's earlier years. Pretty good. 4. Big Boned by Meg Cabot. The same woman who wrote The Princess Diary, Ms. Cabot is a master of the ridiculous taken seriously. This is the third book with these characters that she's written, starring an overweight former teenage pop star that has to make it on her own, and solves murder mysteries while trying to make the rent. Start with Size 12 is not Fat!. 5. Smoke and Shadows, Smoke and Mirrors, and Smoke and Ashes by Tanya Huff. Ms. Huff is an extremely funny woman when given her druthers, as this trilogy proves. The central character in these books is a young gay man, a former street kid, who is trying to carve a life for himself away from his vampire ex-lover, and has discovered a discovered a knack for sensing the supernatural. A very cool set of books, especially in the treatment of Tony's sexuality. Its there, and while it gets in the way at times it isn't the central feature of either his character or his interactions with everyone. Just some of them. Tony is at various times the damsel in distress and the sword wielding knight, depending on the situation. Very fun. I can't even get started on the internet reads. Pretty much everything published on Nifty's high school list over the last week or so.

Actually, you brought up Joe's ass at first, and then either you or Trebs said you wanted Mason's instead. Then Joe upped the minimum bid to $50 over, so at least he'd get something out of it.

Tequila doesn't taste like crap! And what the hell did I miss on Friday? Edit: Damn near the first thing I did when I got home Monday was download "Chattahoochee"

If by sane you mean was able to keep my mouth, eyes, and hands more or less to myself, then yes.

My parent's live in fear of me running away to Texas. Not so much the Teas part as the running away, though they are a bit leery of Texans too. During a certain era in US history (which at one point I could have named but now the time period escapes me), the phrase "Gone to Texas," oft shortened to "GTT," meant you had pulled stakes and gotten the f**K out of town with no intention to return. Given my past, my parents are probably quite correct to fear that I will one day do exactly that. I'm not certain why they believe I am more likely to go to Texas if I do run than anywhere else, but in any case, they have spent most of the last week genuinely wondering if I was actually going to use my ticket home. My parent's fears aside, my trip to Dallas was interesting. At times fun, at times boring, occasionally surprising, most of it in quiet introspection, it went just how I like my vacations to run. I could write a travelogue, but others will and have done that, and with no photographs (Joe may hate getting his pictures taken, but MY hatred extends as far as even taking the blighters), my contribution would be a bit pale in comparison. So instead, I'll list the few things I took away from the trip. 1. Serendipity is apparently still my guiding deity. There was only one slight disappointment to about six things accidentally going my way. The highlight was the meeting of an itinerant British national with an extremely limp handshake that I met on Thursday and wound up spending a good chunk of Friday with. Don't get ideas; I'm pretty sure he was straight--though to be honest I didn't ask. By the time he had hand fed an opportunity to invite him up to my hotel room, all I wanted to do in my bed was sleep. 2. Joe (JSmith) is as hot as I was led to believe. More so in fact, since I had not seen a good shot of his eyes before actually meeting him. I'm not certain that his ass was worth flying 1700 miles just to gawk at, though his boyfriend's may have been. Note: I did not fly 1700 miles to see Joe's ass. Certain people who shall remain nameless (here at least) shamelessly admitted that they did. 3. Speaking of Joe and his boy-toy, I was distinctly glad that they were around for reasons other than the view. They have a lot thicker skin than I do; if I'd had to put up with anywhere near as much teasing as they did, there would have been words said that probably would have gotten banned from this site, given who I would have said them to. That, and spending Saturday watching other people gawk at the pair provided no end of amusement. 4. Related to last note, I owe someone I work with an apology. A self-congratulatory and hypocritical portion of my personality was exposed to me. By Texans of all people. Young, student town Texans, but still... I also am a bit out of practice when it comes to attention coming my way. A f**king kid made me scuttle out of a room just by smiling at me. I blame that on the jet lag, but it was still annoying. 5. When you are talking to someone three sheets to the wind, the answer is always yes. It doesn't matter what the question is that you are saying yes to, because odds are good they won't remember the question by the time you answer it, let alone your answer by the time they're sober. How are people not aware of this? 6. Another highlight of the trip: Joe realizing that Shadowgod and I, between us, knew almost as much country word for word as he did. That and Joe getting buzzed enough to actually sing some of these songs. Previously, he'd been paying pop and alternative as he ferried us about. After that, he switched to his real music. Sadly, this moment came upon us as we were forced to endure horribly screeched versions of our favorite songs. My head wasn't on the table in Myr's picture because I was crying. It was because the band was giving me a headache mere alcohol could not cure. 7. Sunday, I confirmed I was still an art history geek. The Dallas Museum of Art has a pretty nifty 1700-1900 French art collection. One room damn near sent me into a gibbering fit, and my brain switched into Student-Teacher mode without warning. Seriously; I wrote a lesson outline in my notebook that I keep on me. I really wish my cousin had been there with me for that part, as she can match me step for step in that subject, and it would have been cool to have the notes in her head as well as mine. 8. Drag queens are bigger in Texas. And smaller, shockingly enough. I still think Sonia should have won on skill alone, as the electric slide in heels could not have been easy. Edit: 9. I need not have sacrificed my hair after all. Even though it is at the moment shorter than it has been any other time in the last year, I evidently still don't look Hispanic. I got the dirtiest looks from airport security at DFW. Edit 2: 10. I had been under the impression that gay guys naturally gravitate to the clarinet. Thanks to Mason, I now know to watch for flautists and oboists. I read no less than six books since leaving my apartment Thursday. I took four with me, and bought two more while in Dallas. They were, in order, Mercedes Lackey's Fortune's Fool, Meg Cabot's Big Boned, Lois McMaster Bujold's Sharing Knife: Beguilement and Legacy, Esther Friesner's Nobody's Princess, and Tanya Huff's Smoke and Shadows. I'm not going to attempt analysis while jet-lagged, but I will say on the two Bujold novels: what the f**K? You know your shit woman, did you phone this one in or something? Was it meant to be one book that ran long? Because you've done that before, and did it a hell of a lot better. The climax goes at the end of the book, not the first fifty pages. And if the main threat is supposed to be the culture clash between the main characters, you've done that before better as well. In fact, there are a number of parallels between the Sharing Knife books and the Cordelia's Honor duology. If you were trying to make up for the lackluster sales of your first novel, prove you could do it right this time, sweetheart, move on. Without the humor, it doesn't hold together.

I thought the reward for a job well done was always another, and harder, job. Isn't that the point? But good for you for sticking it out, doing what you said you would do even though the terms had changed. I don't often get to meet people like that, and it is always a pleasure when one turns up.

Splash of white Creme de Cacao to a pomegranate martini? I shall be trying that this weekend. Don't switch Cosmo's drink, Kevin. I think he might like to be trendy in that regard, except he'll claim that they are following his footsteps. You, on the other hand, are probably right to switch, though not because of Sex and the City. Cosmopolitans are the drink of choice of, shall we say, women of a certain age, which the SatC women certainly qualify as being.

I have these images in my head. I doubt I'll use them, but they are there on an endless feedback loop regardless. I don't think I'll be finishing my entry for the summer anthology in time, but if I do, this might be interesting. Anyways. Lou lit her last cigarette. Put in her out-sized wallet years ago when she went inactive and joined the CHoIR, it was a promise to herself that there would always be a later, better time to finally and formally rid herself of the habit that claimed her father. 'I guess Daddy's little angel won't make all his mistakes after all,' she thought, her grim humor shaking loose a grin, despite it all. 'I can make brand new ones.' Her office door took another blow, one hard enough to shake all her furniture. "Not long now," she murmured, taking a last drag. Lou firmly stubbed it out, and picked up her .50 caliber. To her surprise, Lou was smiling. Widely even, not the half smirk of the damned. And why not? Her greatest fear was not death, but death from her own body's betrayal like that had felled her smoker father, diabetic mother, and ulcer plagued husband. When she left the marines, that secret nightmare had invaded her waking hours as well as her sleeping. But, judging from the furred claw that just managed to gain a grip on her cracking defiant door, she'd have nothing to worry about on that score. Under the circumstances, this positively cheered her. So did sighting her rifle at the spot her sniper training said the were-whatever's head would be when it finally gianed access. "Semper fi," she breathed, "shithead." Four seconds later, Lou's grin doubled. She'd guessed right.

Seems promising so far. Watch yourself though. Your character loses his voice about four paragraphs to the end, when you really start sermonizing. I'm not saying you're wrong to do so; as I assume that class divide will be a major theme, it's probably best to get it all down in one pill. But you might want to think about words this character would use to talk about the issue. He's intelligent, you've stated, and obviously educated, but that doesn't necessarily translate to magniloquence, or even eloquence. Another point might be to ask, how educated can he be on this subject? If he's from a rough neighborhood and recent transfer to a magnet school, there could be some pretty wide gaps in his education, particularly in social studies. It doesn't sound like his mother or peers are ones to read Newsweek either, and so he may not have given opportunity to really talk about or even seriously think about complex and non-immediate issues such the earnings gap and its effect on the political process. It's your story, but you may want to rethink about having these words come out of his mouth.

That's cool Viv. I like yours better than mine. The band name wouldn't cooperate for me. I tried a couple different times, but the succeeding results were actually worse than the first offering, so Baldwin Senior High School it was.

Getting ready for Texas in a few weeks. I'd hoped to see many of you there, but I'll take what i can get. After all, I'll be meeting Joe, Myr, Dan K, and Trebs, plus a few others, and those cannot be considered minor points. As far as reading has gone, I've been working my way through a backlog of ebooks I came into possession of a while back. They are all from www.baen.com, a niche publisher that mainly comes out with "Hard" sci-fi, "military" sci-fi, and "space opera;" where these various genres do not overlap of course. The latest book I've finished is of the second genre called The Oath of Swords by David Weber. It's main character is a seven-and-a-half foot orc, though they don't call them such in the books. It's the beginning of a series, so I'm holding back full judgement as I make my way through the rest fo the books, but I've liked it so far. David Weber is a good series author, though his latest books have tended to be on the bloated side. J K Rowling has unleashed monsters on us all by her example. On a more critical analysis, I wonder about the conspicuous absense of the word orc. Every other Tolkienian race is present, though halflings have horns for some reason, and based on the description of the hradani (as the main character's race is called), they have every descriptive and psychological detail cannoncically associated with Orcs, including a racial tendency to go bonkers on occasion and wreck hell. Is David Weber trying to rehabilitate the image of Orcs by using a different word, thereby letting a reader come into it with open, unsuspecting minds? I don't know, but my own experience tells me that re-empowering a word has more lasting impact than hiding what you are behind a pretty name. Aside from my adventures in reading and upcoming adventures in Texas, I come here bearing a blog meme. Feel free to play along if anyone would like. The rules, according to Drew, from someone named George: Click on this link. The title of the page is the name of your band. Click on this link. The last four words of the final quotation on the page are the title of your album. Click on this link this link. The third picture is your album cover. Take the pic, add your band name and album title. My results:

It's been a month. Over. I completely skipped March. I have been unreasonably busy. I haven't even had time to talk to Mike in about that long, which had been heading towards an every day thing. In summary I: *Moved. *Saw my folks. *Worked two jobs to pay for above activities. *Slept when and where I could I also had to find time to keep up some kind of exercise, lest I *gasp* gain weight. I barely had time to read or write either. It's been unreal. It is little wonder the couple grey hairs I found last fall have returned, with friends. BUt, hopefully, My life can slow a little. My new apartment is quite a bit less than my last, so perhaps I don't have to work quite so hard. Then again, I do have to put together something for Texas, because damnit, I'm going. Come hell, high water, or tourist season, I WILL be in Texas this June. I had a very vivid, truly odd dream last week, about a boy of about 16 being repeatedly sexually abused by an adult, a coach I think, who once he had the kid under his thumb forced him to satisfy not just him, but just about everyone on his high school team. Including one freshman boy who convinced himself he was in love with the first boy, however bizarre the circumstances. As I said, it was odd. The gang rape imagery still comes up easily to my mind. Odder still, is that there isn't the slightest fear or arousal, then or now. TheZot (can never remember his real name, Dan maybe?) mentioned on one of his earlier blogs that multiple first person perspective flat don't work. I'm not entirely convinced of this, and may turn this dream into such a story. I need to hammer down the plot, which in the dream was pretty far-fetched, being a dream, and not needing to make sense. Yes, I just admitted my dreams have plots to them, rather than being a disparate series of images, with no internal logic that isn't serendipitous. I was an English major in college. It happens. If you have not done so, check out the Spring Anthology. I went for something totally different this time, and will do so again with the follow up for "Escape" (always assuming I finish in time). I won't say sequel, since "The Slaying of Lydia Syanto" is pretty much action/sci-fi, and next time around (tentatively titled "Chiaroscuro") I want to do horror/psychological, but it will have the same main character. Anyways, keep it real all. --Gabe

I'm being remarkably stupid today. It amazes me how often this happens, actually. I'm comfortably in the high nineties when it comes to measurable intelligence, and I was nearly always in the top third of any class when I was in college (only four exceptions, and in two of them I was near the top when it came to actually understanding the material, despite my laziness when it came to doing the work, which drove my instructors to distraction). So I shouldn't be stupid, or at least not illogical. That said...but that's the end of the story, so I'll begin at the beginning. My birthday was Monday. 24 years and no deaths! By the way, thanks to all who wished me a happy birthday; it was much appreciated. What, may you ask, did I do to celebrate said birthday? Work, work, and work some more. My sisters swear I'm adopted, since none of them seem to have such a self-abusing work ethic. When I wasn't working, I was sleeping. I'm scheduled to work tomorrow morning, at 5:30, at a job I don't need and on a shift I wasn't required to pick up. I also haven't' slept since 6pm yesterday. I don't intend to sleep until about 4pm tonight. So yeah, stupid. But this, I believe, is the only way I'll be in acceptable condition to work tomorrow. Making omelette's is hard on a few eggs, so I guess my sleep schedule, which has been truly out of whack since I switched to nights, is getting the omelet treatment for now. On the other hand, I stand a good chance at accomplishing all the things I've been putting off until I could get up early enough to accomplish them. Starting right now in fact. So wish me luck! Edit: Perhaps I can blame this converstaion on lack of sleep. Random Car guy: "Well, we weren't able to fix your radio. We don't install Sirius radios here, only XM, so none of our guys could work on it. However, we took the satellite radio out of the circuit, and now your FM radio works fine. You can go pick it up now." Me (after a moment to process this): "You couldn't fix it?" RCG: "No. I'm afraid you'll have to take it to the dealership you got it installed at, because we can't work on it here. Now, if you'll just sign here..." Me (cutting him off): So, thanks to you guys and your service, until I get back to Ventura, which depending on traffic is up to a four hour drive away from here one way, I have a pretty piece of plastic that I paid $800 up front and $10 a month since and going forward. Is that what you're telling me?" RCG: "Well, you could have no radio at all. We could have just left it broken." Me: "And I suppose I could have taken it to someone competent in the first place. It, after all, took you guys three and half hours to determine you could do damn all, except break it." RCG: "I think that's going a bit far. You still have a radio. And as for the wait, well, you didn't make an appointment, and there were a few cars ahead of you." Me: "But I don't have my radio back. And I did make an appointment. I showed up five minutes early for it in fact, and pulled up to the lane marked 'Appointments Only.'" RCG: "..." Me: "I take it you didn't check to see if, in fact, I did have an appointment?" (long pause) "Well, I guess I can only be surprised I didn't wind up with my tires replaced or something." (After taking a moment to read the document before me, I sign here he still has his finger pointed. When I look up again, I'm smiling) "But the important thing is that I got a free car wash with my 'service' today. That has to count for something, right? By the way, how much am I being charge for this priveledge you;ve bestowed upon me." RCG: "No charge. Let me hand your paperwork off, and we can get you out of here." As he turned to leave, I had one more question. Me: "One last thing, how long has my car been sitting in the parking lot with the hazard lights blinking away merrily?" While I'd like to blame this on lack of sleep, I don't think I can. For some reason, I've been dying to lay into someone for days now. Its just his luck he drew the short straw. Meh, at least I saw "Jumpers" today, and got the details magazine where they make Zac Effron look like straight.

Wow. Thanks all! Sadly, I worked, but my best friend did send me a clip of a hot actor, and some pictures from her work (she works for a Corp Library). And my coworkers got me an ice cream cake. So it was, on balance, a pretty nifty birthday.

I have my anthology story completed. Which is little wonder, since it is more or less an edited version of a story I wrote two years ago. But I think I'd like the advice of someone else on this one, so I thought I'd put the call out there. In other news, I am all better. Therefore, I have probably already caught the virus that cause my next round of illness. Also, I am up at 6 am. Make that, I am still up at 6. My work ahs affected my life cycle more completely and quicker than I would have believed possible. I may or may not stay on this schedule for a while. It will depend on how office politics go, and I refuse to guess at this point. Finally, I find myself at odds with nearly everyone in my circle of friends, because I whenever I picture Obama in the White House I shake my head and want to silently weep. Not because he's Black. Not because he hasn't even served a full term in Congress. But because he has promised that he will be new and different and people believe him. That's what i find so ridiculous about his campaign. Clinton said it right, the man is living in a Fairytale if he thinks there is a magic wand to make 240 years of political evolution vanish by placing his hand on a Bible. Further, if there is ever an Obama/Hillary or Hillary/Obama ticket, I'm becoming Republican, because the day that happens is the day my party has completely stopped trying to pretend it has a moral backbone. Not that Republicans are much better of course. I laughed, hard, when they complained about Democrats filibustering. Anyone who has studied political history knows why. Edit: Upon further relfection, I've decided that an Obama/Hillary ticket might not be so bad. It would leave Obama free to remain in Obamaland (which I can only imagine is a magical kingdom filled with radical politicians, unbiased journalists, and where Cinderella comes by for tea every Thursday) while also allowing Ms. Clinton to be his hatchett woman with Congress, a position I think she'd enjoy, quite frankly. So let's see what happens.