fear & loathing in the literary agency

First thing you learn is you always got to wait... ok, so the initial response to Mindstorm was muy pronto, agent Richard Henschaw fired off a response to my email query in zilch time--but he said he couldn't read the book until "late January"; then February came & I finally mailed off my fearsome & fantastic voyage to the heart of the Savage Id, where no man has gone before, save Adam Quadmon, & Adam did it for our collection of pop cans. I had to wait over a month to hear back on my outline/sample chapter, which was full f savage dread. The Big Dick's comment was that it's "real gonzo stuff", but he bowed out, on the excuse that he'd never handled anything like this before (that's because nothing like this has existed before) & he wouldn't have a clue where to start (publishers of fear & loathing?) so he'd bow out, to allow me to find "someone who could do it justice". So now I'm stuck with trying to find an agent all over again, & someone who can get the story not-classified as "science fiction"; I mean, apart from VADIS, there's very little in here that's even reminiscent of good Dick, let alone Ellison Wonderland.

In spite of which, Trish & I are still going to MisCon this year. She'll be attending the masquerade as the Lady Tron, psycho killer fem-bot from the future who squishes her enemies like pop cans, & I'm not talking Mr. Fruity here.

Damn, & I think that rejection slip's made me schizophrenic. I think I'll get me a diet Coke & Risperdal Rum. Or maybe a Thorazine Cola. & so it goes.

wear your blizzard season coat

So yesterday, a blizzard blew into Invisible City, shrouding the Invisible landscape with several inches of snow. Trish had an appointment to have her hair cut, which she thought was at 10:00--I thought it was at 10:30--& it turned out to be at the later time, anyway, so we went downstairs to the Bear's Den to slurp soda for awhile. Then I split for the Perky Pam Layout while Trish went home to work on the housework & I ate corned beef & cabbage at the Layout. She ate at the Soup Kitchen & picked up some groceries after lunch. We spent the afternoon with me playing my electronic keyboard & watching the Buffinator on DVD, then Brawny picked her up for work--only to have her sent home.

I called Ted last night on the phone card, as I needed to be calmed down before I could do any more writing: some idiot Critter gave "Noc-Lar" a very bad review which clearly violates diplomacy guidelines, & when I pointed that out to him, he responded with, "I'm sitting here laughing my head off. So I was a little harsh, poo, poo". I forwarded that to ye olde Critter Cap'n, along with a copy to this Dahlquil guy, & he responded once more with a lot of insults, so I insulted him back. Perhaps I will get into trouble for this with Critters, but I do think aburt will eject him from the workshop, if not for this review, for the next, assuming he keeps this kind of crap going on. Since he blocked my email, I sent him some more insults on my yahoo address, which he also blocked, & I don't care. The guy's a stupid moron who, if his writing's as bad as his criticism, will never become a pro, let alone have anything published. I just can't wait for aburt to get home, so this bozo--bozo king, actually--can be kicked out of the workshop.

Everybody else liked "Noc-Lar". The last editor who saw it suggested turning it into a novella, saying that there's "nothing wrong with the style or plot", save that it was too short--this rebeboed bozo was complaining about such things as "the discovery of Pluto" & a lot of other crap that proved he just doesn't know how to read. Anyway, Ted's suggestion was to expand it into a novel, which I started to do.

If Bozo Dalquil insists on saying my characters are "unrealistic", he has to say the same thing about "The Knight's Tale", as this is a plagiarism of a plagiarism, though straying a little more than the original High which I did in Nite U. I couldn't get that through to him; then again, he's a moron, anyway. I hate how damn literal some of the stupid SF & F fans can become when it comes to taking things literally & only reading the surface. Oh well, at least I don't have to deal with this idiot any more. He can take his precious short story & his damn lack of critical standards & cram them up his ass. & FYI, John Cawelti really did call it "commercial", something about which he still tried to insult me, because of his unique & rather stupid opinion that the story was bad, when actually it's his ability to read that's bad. & all you sweet fantasy bozos with all your sweet talk, you can all go take a fucking walk & I guess David Dahlquil's a fucking stupid moron with no sense of what actually will & won't sell.

petrified hamster

So Giles sends the Buffster into the basement to pick up a vial of petrified hamster... our hamster wasn't petrified, instead, she nearly petrified Trish. When I was in the kitchen making toast this morning, Trish suddenly exclaimed, "Shit! The hamster's loose!" She nearly had her, then Gloria slipped away. Trish finally cornered her in one of her work shoes. How she escaped is baffling to me--those metal bars aren't really that far apart--but we decided to buy a new cage, anyway. We left the hamster in her hamster-car until the Invisible Pet Shop opened up, & went across the street to the Perky Pam Layout until they opened. The one we bought was on sale for 30 buckadingdongs, so once we'd paid for it we returned home & assembled it. We ate Ronnie's hot dogs at the Layout, then Trish went to physical therapy & to pick up her check, with a Carma-dharma driver. I waited patiently on the porch until Carmen brought Trish home, & then the other Trish called to take Trish out driving. We went out to Kame-Apart, so Trish could buy some new underwear & a diet Mr. Fruity. That's about it for today... see you again soon, Mr. Diary (what a day it's been...)

a spike into my vein...

So today Perky Pam put a spike into my vein: goddamn the pizza man! Goddamn the Ku Klux Klan, for that matter. We rescheduled for 1:00 after Karen called this morning, to take us out to do budget. Trish was just about to step into the shower when the phone rang. & then we had to split cuz we had no time to waste. We were planning on going up to the Gallery (a famous Invisible landmark) but then went to PJ's when they were closed. We had Breakfast of Hamsters--so did the hamster--& got all our spending cash for Great Falls: tomorrow we go to the Electric City from the Invisible landscape, for a day of shopping & Chinese food. Trish wants to buy some naughty lingerie & I want batteries so we can wire back up the smoke detector in the basement. & I tell ya, things ain't quite the same & I guess that I just don't know...

sickness will surely take the mind where minds can't usually go...

Trish has an ear infection. Wah! (As she would say with the cuter side of her personality.) Last Monday, she saw Dr. Huffman about it, along with a fungus rash which she came down with because "there's fungus amongus". He prescribed some antibiotic ear drops, then Wednesday she stayed home from work because the Vickster told her to. Thursday she drove with Trisha, & went all the way up to the Invisible Clinic to have nurse Kelly write up a doctor's excuse so she could return to work. Then last night she started to complain about her nausea again, & wanted to call in sick, but her boss told her they need 3 hours notice but she was only giving them 2. So she went to work, but also went to bed right away when she came home--I had another jam session with Fred & we picked her up in the bat-mobile. This morning, when I woke her up to take her synthroid, she said she had a headache & also wanted to call in sick. For the sake of not-having her call in every time she has an owie, I suggested she take some Tylenol & nap it off. Hopefully, she'll feel well enough by 5:00 to walk the distance to McRonald's & lobbify.