Spam de-lite

551 spams--at least no more cookies: my Internet was switched off Friday from non-payment of the bill by Karen, my Kaseworker (Dave & Karen have vanished to the wilds of Danville); the bill had been misplaced. I saw her this morning, when Trish went in to Perky Pam's Place for her weekly shot. We wrote up a check & called 1-866-ONE-WEST & they turned it back on, but the spam filter had been kicked off & I was stuck with all this shit, including a note from an angry, disgruntled Critter who complainedthat I'dstopped reading a generallymediocre pieceof fantasy becausehe ransomany words together that it was unreadable. Now I had to kiss A. Burt's ass, just to stay in this crappy genre workshop, when I'm capable of so much more. Worse yet, when I arrived home, there was a form letter from Asimov's in my mailbox. Sheila Williams must be one really shitty editor, as Gardner always returned everything with an enthusiastic note before apologizing for it "not being right for us". I'm depressed. Perhaps Car-girl can cheer me up tomorrow. Writing is one of those difficult professions where you often spend a lot of time going unrecognized, & I think part of it is just that these magazines & publishers have such lousy editors. At least Stan Schmidt still likes my stuff.

can't count cuz my bed's on fire...

...don't touch me; I'm a real live wire--

So I wasted a whole fucking week reading bad science fiction & fantasy, when I should be writing wasted (I wrote my best stuff on a real atomic submarine). Ted & I wrote a good story, "Quantum Amplifier", which I want to submit to Analog. However, I wanted to run it through Critters first, so I did the MPC & read a lot of unmitigated trash & one good story, just to deliver the story from where it's buried in the queue. Once more, aburt couldn't count right & screwed me over. I checked the web page, & I did 12 crits, not including the 1/2 credit one. The last time I tried for an MPC, he also screwed me & I had to complain. If the dipshit can't count, maybe I should be dropping out of the group. Montana's medical marijuana law sounds like a better source of inspiration than a bunch of retarded nerd-bozos who can't recognize real talent, some of whom can't even spell right: "religeon"; yeah, sure.

Marisa--with ethics like that, no wonder she's a lawyer

So about a week ago I was surfing the darkened seas, looking for a Ms. Fruity. I came across a lesbian lawyer in Australia: Marisa. God, what a slut! She told Trish she's supposed to enjoy watching me have sex with other women & that I should ask Trish to give Jeffer Auss a real atomic blow job.

Trish goes bouncy-bouncy. For who? Nicotine-free Jim. & who else? Only Nicotine-free Jim.

I just stuck the stupid bitch on my ignore list, though I have her email address & am tempted to send her something really, really abusive. As Philip K. Dick put it, "Never fuck with an author. It'll come back years later in print to haunt you". I'm going to fuck this ho over good. She claims to be a lawyer--makes sense, no ethics--but now I'm thinking more & more she's a whore. I wouldn't pay the bitch any money for sex. She's too ugly.

bi-bi love

Marisa is getting so demanding. Yesterday I saw her surfing the darkened seas of Australia, & she disturbed Trish with all her talk of her kinky lifestyle. I mean, yeah the woman is cute & I appreciate all the fine pix off the icy queue, but sometimes you have to have respect for other people's values.

Trish is currently out driving with Trisha; I think they're going to be gone until 5:00, & Trisha is working overtime to teach Trish fear & loathing in the bat-mobile. Also, she's going out with her extra this week, & then my sweet Bumble Bee Girl will no longer have to walk all the way to McRonald's to work, & eat the tasty freeze.

I just returned from Bi-Mart with Car-girl. Straight-Mart & Gay-Mart merged. We bought some hamster bedding for Gloria & also some tupperware for Trish. We sat around & TA'ed with each other for nearly an hour in the resurrectuarant, & then I rose from the dead.

I think my mania is resurfacing, but in the form of hypomania, as words spew forth like fountains spizzing forth pink gin, & the Space Ferry may soon be built; ha-he, cheap way into orbit. Where is NORML when you need him? For that matter, where the hell was Bingle when we needed him last Saturday?

I feel like writing something just to take advantage of all the extra energy I have, but want to hold off on anything until I have my MPC & can re-make/re-model QA. Should let Ted know I submitted it.

Don't worry, friends; I haven't completelty taken leave of my senses, I'm merely scribing a lot of private jokes.

& so it goes. (This is really Curt Vague-&-Nuts.)

random enumerations

It's been awhile since I wrote in my blog, so I'm not certain where to start. Biggie & Karen left a message on our machine on Sunday; they'd successfully made it to Illinois, still completely irresponsible & dreaming in their shared insanity. I've also been doing a lot of re-making/re-modeling of "Quantum Amplifier"; Ted did a bang-up job with the rough draft & I've simply added the Friendlies (ride the purple wage) & the orgasm-death (the Insect-people of Minraud).

Trish flipped out Monday night after our Super Bowl sex (Biggie can't watch cuz of the corporate piglets): after the half-time show we went & scored & vorkled for an hour, but then the next day she was all grumpy about the anonymous Onanist. I told her to take an extra half Klonopin--Suzanne had cut her dose--& Suzanne approved the increase.

Then I spent one night sleepless after waking up at 4:00 AM & did nothing but watch TV all day after cooking the roast beast at the Perky Pam Layout; Trish is cooking chicken Monday. I missed seeing Tracey on the internet that night; ride the lil horse, & I think she's mad about it. Oh well, you can't work in everyone's fantasy factory.

Biggolith & beyond

Biggolith got out of town Monday; sold his property, including his CD & DVD collection, packed up his bat-mobile & left, along with Karen, his relationship. I think it was a little foolhardy of him; all he knows is he'll figure it out when he gets there, a place in the country, everyone's ideal, plus herbs.

Monday the Layout was closed, but Trish had to go in to get shot up by Perky Pam, & I started work on Ghost & the Machine again, which is a hot book. In the evening Ed & Denise took us out to Yummy Yogurt in the evening, so I did less than I'd planned.

Yesterday I had an appointment with Joe (Nobodaddy calls him by his last name) while Bumblebee Girl went out driving with Non-Insect Slayer. I was going to look at Ted's "Quantum Amplifier", but then Car-girl wanted to go for a drive out to the Iron Claw Mountains, so by that time I had little left to do but read Ted's rough draft & watch some Buffy with the True Insect-Slayer, who is also the Sweet Bumblebee Girl.

Today, we are seeing Suzanne (& Jesus was on mushrooms) about Trish's meds. For once, she wants to start having them reduced. It'd mean less side effects & interactions, while at the same time being non-Scoobified.