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Writers Love Drama--When It's Not Ours

Buck buck moose! It's rutting and hunting season, and I, like any serious fiction writer during the month of November, am hiding inside my warm, snug house with my nose pressed to the window, feasting my eyes upon the beautiful, delicious, horny drama outside. And when that's not happening in the backyard, I'm at my writing desk doing "research" that kinda looks like reading smutty trash talk about rockstars--See the end of this post to get your fix, you gossip fiend. How else do we learn how mammalian beings interact but by observing them from a safe distance?


This photo shows three bucks--a big guy in the background, who is standing guard in front of a fair lady doe in the bushes (not visible here), and two young bucks with baby horns. The pubescent yearlings worked in tandem to circle closer and closer until the big buck put his rack down and charged at them, and then they ran away--over and over again. What was the young bucks' strategy, I wondered? Tryin…
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American Dreams of Miklagarth, or: I'll be in the basement until Thanksgiving.

Thank you for voting, America! I don't know if it was the legalize weed stuff that united us across party lines or what, but I am pleased with the high (heh heh) voter turnout for a midterm election. America has not given up on democracy, and for that I am relieved. Freedom!

Now I can descend into the basement lair by the fireplace and focus my attentions on my imaginary friends from a time period and geographic area that is mostly unfamiliar to Americans--but where many of our ancestors lived, loved, and stabbed each other. In my work-in-progress, Matka Danu Miklagarth, the last survivors of the original party of misfits has reached the end of the Danube River and stands before the Black Sea, the threshold of Miklagarth.

Along the way, I've learned many rando facts about 11th century places and peoples, including Germanic "Holy Romans" vs. the Byzantines, assorted Slavic tribes, Magyars, Bulgars, Turks, Egyptians, Nubians, mysterious nomads who apparently traveled fr…

Cat Fright

We thought our cat Gretchen was dead a few days ago, but she hasn't given up her nine ghosts quite yet.


As we were getting ready for bed last Sunday night, Gretchen captured a common house centipede on the kitchen floor (good kitty!) and spent a long while gently patting it to death with her tiny paw, watching it slow down with each leg that fell off. (Ugh!) We thanked her for her service and started to back away, and then the centipede mustered up enough outrage to bite her. I've never seen a centipede bite anything or anyone, but I quickly discovered by Googling that it is possible. Gretchen flailed her paw and finally shook the centipede off, and then she went into a huff and didn't want to finish the job. So I bravely, yes very bravely, squished it with a long broom and swept it into the trash.

Gretchen usually curls up with me and my daughter when we start reading a bedtime story, but on that night, she took off into the basement to nurse her battle wound. Understanda…

NanowrimO-My-God-Please-Vote

You know what's scarier than Halloween? Baby jails. Genocide. Domestic terrorism. Targeted political persecution of everyone who is not wealthy, male, white, Christian-identified, English-speaking, cisgender, heterosexual, right-wing, and subservient to the Great Pumpkin. The threat of goddamn nuclear war. Mass voter suppression in the world's most powerful democracy.

I'm writing this post for you, reader of this blog, because you are likely to be someone who cares about artistic expression and human life. (Just a guess here.) Unless you're one of the few trolls who have stumbled upon this blog. But I don't know why you'd be here. I'm not famous. But whatever, I'm not talking to you.

I'm only talking to human people with intact, living souls here, because I am fully convinced that it is pointless to attempt to reason with someone who is so afraid of brown skin, foreign languages, and gender diversity that they would like to torture babies over it. O…

Windfalls for You and #MeToo

Knowledge is dropping all around us these days, of the sweet and the sour and the poisonous and the rotten. Abusers are named like Rumpelstiltskin. Goose Girls find an iron stove to cry in, and good kings hear them and forge brutal justice. How satisfying it is to see monuments crumble and false idols topple from their pedestals.

Meanwhile, the victims who stand as accusers more often than not go down with their tormentors, martyred on the pikes of public scorn and retaliatory hate.

And then, what comes next for us down here on the ground? What comes down upon the millions of children and women and men scarred by someone who is poor, sick, anonymous, or dead, or also a child and a victim too? What happens to those of us who can't or won't tell? To those who have nothing to gain from disclosure?

What if you can't afford the risk to yourself and your family? Sharing a story publicly can draw blame and shame upon the victim. It can traumatize or re-traumatize people who witn…

EMIGRATE + LINDEMANN + CARDINAL COPIA: It Is Right to Give Them Thanks and Praise

Breaking news: This unholy trinity of metalgods has become one in the spirit of rock to help us through these troubled times.


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Till Lindemann and Cardinal Copia of GHOST took part in the recording of the new album Emigrate as famous guest musicians! Emigrate announces the release of its new studio album, 'A Million Degrees', on November 30 via Vertigo / Universal Music. The Nameless Ghouls Official Ghost Cult. #8thAnniversary #TNGofficial #CardinalCopia #Ghost #GhostBC #PapaEmeritus #PapaNihil #Prequelle #GhostBand #TheBandGhost #NamelessGhouls #CardinalCopia A post shared by The Nameless Ghouls (@thenamelessghouls) on Oct 18, 2018 at 6:09pm PDT
I can't even stop screaming long enough to type properly, so this week's regular blog post will be postponed until tomorrow.

Dominus vobiscum.

Et cum spiritu tuo.

What a Great Time for Glasses

It's happened. My daughter has followed in my genetic footprint and developed nearsightedness. We figured there was about a 50/50 chance, considering that no one on Daddy's side and everyone on Mommy's side of the family needs corrective lenses in childhood. I was hoping she'd favor her daddy's side of the family in the eyesight department, but now that she has her first pair of glasses, she is so cute that I can't feel too bad about it.

We aren't sure how long she hasn't been able to see clearly, because she is doing so well in school and has otherwise been able to hide it. She was anxious to admit, at first, that everything beyond arm's length is a blur, because she didn't want to be the first kid in her class to wear glasses.

But when I took her to the optometrist and she realized how well she'd be able to see--and found these hot pink frames from Armani Exchange--she went from feeling shy to enthusiastic about debuting her new look. Yeah…