Category: writing

…what was I talking about?

elvis5 Comments

I’ve hit one of those damned creativity lulls where I it down to write several times during the day and stare at the blank, mocking screen. I’m not sure why — possibly it’s that I actually have the germ of an idea for a story, which I’m a paragraph into but haven’t had TIME to work on. But maybe that’s where all the energy is going.

I’ve hit one of those damned creativity lulls where I sit down to blog several times during the day and stare at the blank, mocking screen.

I’m not sure why — possibly it’s that I actually have the germ of an idea for a story, which I’m a paragraph into but haven’t had TIME to work on. But maybe that’s where all the energy is going. We’ll see. But in any case I have a feeling I might not be updating here quite as much for the next week or so.

That’s either a good thing or a bad thing. you tell me.

Promise to Myself

elvis8 Comments

Once again, I read Buck Daruma’s journal, and he makes me see myself…. Not email, not blog entries, not stuff that has to be good or that has to be for publishing.Just write.

Once again, I read Buck Daruma’s journal, and he makes me see myself.

So here’s a promise I make myself — every day, starting today, I will write. Not email, not blog entries, not stuff that has to be good or that has to be for publishing.

Just write. Just fucking write.

I need to do it. I’ve stopped writing completely. The last thing I finished was my Bad Santa story, and before that, almost nothing for months. I stop when I don’t have ideas that are good enough, when I don’t feel completely inspired.

I keep waiting for a bolt of of the blue, and it’s not coming. I just need to get down and get my hands dirty.

So. Every day. Even if it’s thrown away. Even if it’s only a paragraph. Even if it’s crap and I hate it.

I must do it. I must.

Waiter Rant — Tsunami

elvis2 Comments

If you’re not already, go read this entry in Waiter Rant, which is called Tsunami. This guy is such a good writer. The observations about working in food service are spot on and funny, sure, but you could say the same of Cook Rant. But the cat who writes Waiter Rant is more. He’s got […]

If you’re not already, go read this entry in Waiter Rant, which is called Tsunami.

This guy is such a good writer. The observations about working in food service are spot on and funny, sure, but you could say the same of Cook Rant.

But the cat who writes Waiter Rant is more. He’s got a keen sense of who people are. He’s writing about life; he’s something of a philosopher. More, he’s an incredibly good writer, and I can’t wait til he decides to get a book out.

This entry isn’t about being a waiter. This entry is about fear and change.

My godfather sits in the passenger seat. He taps me on my shoulder.

“You can’t be here,” I say to him, “You’re dead.”

Putting on his old Greek fisherman’s cap he looks at me lovingly with his cool blue eyes.

“Everything changes,” he says.

With a tremendous roar the tsunami arrives in all its fury. Blue green and glistening it towers hundreds of feet high. I can see the shadows of sharks swimming inside. It heads straight for me. I’m going to die.

“And nothing changes,” my godfather whispers.

The wave hits. I cry out. I’m tumbling in darkness.

[composed and posted with ecto]

Hunter

Karl Elvis1 Comment

I was at a used book convention yesterday, and one of the books I drooled over was a signed first edition of Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. I didn’t buy it, of course, but damn, I wanted to.

Last night, the friend I’d gone book shopping with called me and said Looks liek you should have bought that after all, the value’s going to go up by tomorrow.

HUNTER S. THOMPSON: 1937-2005 Original gonzo journalist kills self at age 67

I guess it’s a gonzo way to go out. Still, not, so not what I wanted to read. I can’t quite process that yet.

The mice will play

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I’m having to resist posting all these old images I’ve been scanning in. I might have to finally sign up for flickr or one of those photo hosting services. Oh hell I just looked at flickr’s home page to make sure I’d spelled that right (or in context anyway), and found the most mouth-watering picture […]

I’m having to resist posting all these old images I’ve been scanning in. I might have to finally sign up for flickr or one of those photo hosting services.

Oh hell I just looked at flickr’s home page to make sure I’d spelled that right (or in context anyway), and found the most mouth-watering picture of sushi. I was about to write about how I can’t concentrate on blogging, but now I can’t even think of anything but sushi. My mouth is watering. Is it lunchtime yet?

Why yes, my middle name is pavlov. Why do you ask?

In any case, I just noticed that my boss is gone this week. Not that having my boss here is a problem, he’s a fine guy, a decent boss, and basically leaves me alone to get my work done my own way on my own schedule.

This isn’t my completely-tattooed Über-boss, Jeff. This is my actual manager, Steve who’s gone. Jeff, well, included in those pictures I’ve scanned are ones of Jeff bare-ass naked and getting his septum pierced by Fakir. So I don’t care if Jeff’s around.

But I like it when my boss is on vacation. There’s a sense of freedom. The office is quiet. People come to me if there’s an issue, so I can get stuff fixed faster without the boss-in-the-loop factor.

18 months ago it was a week when my boss was gone, I wrote Wanton. I won’t say I can do that again this week, but you know, I might be able to get my head around a couple things I’ve been working on.

We’ll see how my day looks later today, or tomorrow. I’ll crack open the folder full partly-done stories and see if I can get my head around one. Wish me luck.

There’s my van

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http://www.dealsonwheels.com/search/detailbig.cfm/Autos__ID/209415 ’67 Ford econoline. Damn. Have That. You might recognize that van; just picture that in red with some Sailor Jerry flash painted on the side. Yep, that’s the one.

http://www.dealsonwheels.com/search/detailbig.cfm/Autos__ID/209415

’67 Ford econoline.

Damn. Have That.

You might recognize that van; just picture that in red with some Sailor Jerry flash painted on the side. Yep, that’s the one.

It was a dark and stormy night

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Ever spend time writing and feel like all you get is Bulwer-Lytton? Hard to tell though, when you are deep in a trenches, what you’ve got and what you’ve not got. I sometimes suffer from too many ideas and not enough time, but sometimes it’s the reverse, time with no ideas. Only time will tell; […]

Ever spend time writing and feel like all you get is Bulwer-Lytton?

Hard to tell though, when you are deep in a trenches, what you’ve got and what you’ve not got. I sometimes suffer from too many ideas and not enough time, but sometimes it’s the reverse, time with no ideas.

Only time will tell; though of course, there’s never really enough time.

Speaking of time, what year is it again?

Sleaze Sci Fi

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I just found this great archive of Sleaze Science Fiction Covers (Thanks to the lovely Aphrodite at ErosBlog for the link). Man, these rule. And there are actually some good authors in there, or at least respected ones. I suspect I’ve actually read both the Philip Jose Farmer ones. Now, I’ve always avoided writing sci-fi. […]

I just found this great archive of Sleaze Science Fiction Covers (Thanks to the lovely Aphrodite at ErosBlog for the link).

Man, these rule. And there are actually some good authors in there, or at least respected ones. I suspect I’ve actually read both the Philip Jose Farmer ones.

Now, I’ve always avoided writing sci-fi. I’m a huge sci-fi fan, with a vast library of sci-fi books, both pulp and good quality work. But as a writer it never much spoke to me to do, even as erotica.

But looking at these covers, I’m suddenly feeling a compulsion to write some sci-fi porno thing.

I’m sure the urge will pass before I actually do anything, but I’m thinking something Gernsback, something fifties, something like Forbidden Planet with silver form-fitting space suits.

Hmmm. I must think on this. I might actually get something entertaining out of it.

Note that the sit linked above has many other delights, such as Lesbiana Paperbacks, Drug themed paperbacks, and even a collection on Hillbillies.

I’m a huge fan of whomever put this site together. Note that they’re a non-profit site and are taking donations via PayPal to keep the site up, so if you like it as much as I do, slip ’em a couple bones.

Santa’s Little Girl

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My dear sweet Doxy has put up her Bad Santa entry, An XXXmas Karol Typically, she kicked my ass and wrote a much better story. But I’m still ahead of her in Fantasy Football. Blah Blah, Disclaimer, incest, etc. You know the drill. It’s dirty as hell. Read it only if you’re one of us, […]

My dear sweet Doxy has put up her Bad Santa entry, An XXXmas Karol

Typically, she kicked my ass and wrote a much better story. But I’m still ahead of her in Fantasy Football.

Blah Blah, Disclaimer, incest, etc. You know the drill. It’s dirty as hell. Read it only if you’re one of us, not if you’re one of them.

‘Til the Season

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Hey, now that it’s officially no longer too early for christmas to — uh — come, let me post another plug. If you have not read it yet, take a gander at The Man with The Bag, my Bad Santa story. (Yeah, it’s non-consent erotica, read at your own risk) Feedback. It’s what I’m all […]

Hey, now that it’s officially no longer too early for christmas to — uh — come, let me post another plug.

If you have not read it yet, take a gander at The Man with The Bag, my Bad Santa story.

(Yeah, it’s non-consent erotica, read at your own risk)

Feedback. It’s what I’m all about. And not just the kind you get when you play your guitar in front of your amp.

My friend Circe has another Bad Santa story, and I am hearing a few more erotic christmas tales are in the offing; I’m all for putting the XXX in xmas.

Also of note — this sunday, 11/28, is the yearly lament of my birth. Go out and fuck somone in my honor, and make it hurt because that’s what I’d do if I were there.

And if you wanna send me something (other than you, in a pink ribbon and nothing else), there’s a wish-list link cleverly hidden on the side-bar. But better, give your money to charity.

Now it’s time for another bourbon egg-nog. Only hold the egg-nog.