Galaxies Controlling the Vinyl Frontier

"Galaxies" is rapidly morphing into a sex-drugs thing, partly due to my own predilections, but also 'cause they justify... well, the title, at least. I'm afraid that I may be entering another hypomanic phase, as I've begun to deploy Altavista.com to search for racy images of women doing all kinds of bizarre sex. Yet perhaps this is less than symptomatic; as Steve MacAroni put it, "But I get horney, too" -- well, duh!, but in mania, it's terribly exaggerated, ranging between everything from acute exasperation of VADIS to generally slutty behavior in women or, in guys -- Casanova (is that your name, or do you live there?). I also believe I'm becoming a little hypomanic 'cause I've become more willing to actually do stuff, Viagra-less. (Though the male impotence pill does increase the pleasure; it's Risperdal causing the problem & fuck Scientology!) Hopefully, Doc Larocque can taper me off the stuff; 3 antipsychotics is a bit much. & even Timmy Leary, another substance abuser, tried Clozaril.

So the main thing is, Roxy is now more than music, she's into BDSM. This comes (& cums) from some of the online women I've met, though the farthest I've ever gotten is, "Kiss the boots of shiny, shiny leather; shiny leather in the dark", & then they put me on their ignore list.

So that's pretty much what happened yesterday -- if you want to love me, love me for my mind, my stories, my art (including Roxy) -- excluding Karen brought over a futon while I was in the bathtub & we made popcorn during TV time.

Today I have the LAC meeting & TA time with Car-girl. I'll see about getting a Diet Mr. Fruity with lime at the Bear Creek Drive-in & head on out the highway, to the Cat's Foot Hills & Iron Claw Mountains.

Neurosurgeons scream for more!

another cold, wet Wednesday

So it's supposed to (possibly) rain again today. Yesterday Trish called Town Taxi for a ride to the Invisible Pizza Hut. I'd been encouraging her to be brave, to walk it; just when I had her about convinced, I walked out in the rain to carry the trash out, got drenched, & returned to my con-apt, saying, "You can ride the Invisible Taxi if you want to" -- they do sell these books of tickets, & a ride is only $4.50, but it does eat up her daily wages to ride the cab.

When she finally rose from the bed -- the night before, she had racing thoughts, high anxiety, fear & loathing, savage dread -- after only 3 hours sleep, I fixed the Aunt Jemimah pancakes Car-girl had turned the Mighty Insect Slayer on to at the Invisible Wally World. Then one fell on the floor & I had to throw it -- take your precious gifts & throw them in the air, & watch them fall down... when you were Jung -- always reminds me of the dread Vadisystem C, the original Vadisystem; then there were Roni & Jill: beyond The Mind-Warp Era, but sharing as they did the athletic build & big boobs.

So I tossed the filthy pancake & mixed up some more batter. Then we listened to my stereo for an hour or 2 before Trish left for work, drinking Scooby-Dew, as has become our tradition.

Once Trish exited & called home, I went online for a brief while, to explain to Captain Strange, the Occult Superhero, what exactly had been the good ideas in "Galaxies", which Wimsatt is certain to like -- at this point, I've realized that selling to Stan Schmidt is like writing for Wimsatt -- unfortunately, I lack the weed to carry on -- but will try for the Kingdom if I can, both ends burning.

Then there was "Galaxies" itself: after lunch (leftover potato salad from Memorial Day; ditto, porkin' beans; & a taco TV dinner) I sat down at my computer & created new characters from the void left when Juanita, Ibab, & Yoshi all had their names changed -- it's amazing, what a transformation of a name can do for a character. I'm still not certain, though, if "the plot collapses without the scientific element", as, when I realized how important music had become to the story, I invented Roxy, & she's been a really tawdry bitch to tame; a harsh mistress. I'm not certain how I'll wind up her portion of the story, but it's starting to look like the original love triangle theme: an interesting story (except that one wasn't (unless you're Georgia March)), but not one that dissolves without the science.

I pretty much stopped writing about the time Trish made it home, as I'd come to a conundrum, & needed time to think.

Today I'll cure that thing.

So Trish got a ride home from Jeremy. She said she wanted to take a shower, but she was clearly exhausted from staying up 1/2 the night & working 1/2 the day, so I suggested she take some solace in sleep. I woke her up when the Moody Blues were done singing about Timothy Leary. He's Dread, anyway. Then she took a shower, while I played Blue Sunday on the keyboard -- here's another interesting combination: strings, polka rhythm, & hard rock harmony.

When Trish emerged from the basement hair dripping wet, she combed it, then we went out to El Taco Loco for nachos & fries

When we came home we watched The Wrath of Khan, Trish went to bed early, I went channel surfing, finally ate a couple of Scooby snacks & went to bed.

This morning I got up around 6:30. I'm getting my mornings back. Used to just sleep until the alarm clock went off. Now, I'm actually capable of accomplishing something before brecchie -- & on the other hand, not waking up at 2:00 AM.

Trish gets up in 10 minutes. For those of you who are out to become descoobied, we salute you.

no flowers for Doodyman

Another Memorial Day behind us; no MisCon; no laying flowers on our father's grave -- as the 2nd to the last message that came from Biggie the Blanket requested Instead, we mostly stayed home & watched movies -- specifically, Disc 4 of LOTR 1 -- but we did eat pic-a-mic food. Hot dogs, potato salad, chips.

Then a commercial on the television reminded us that it was, indeed, Memorial Day; Trish stated: "Maybe we should've gotten Ed & Denise to take us to the graveyard".

So now, another typical day of dirty pizza plates & intergalactic medicine shows begins. Trish is returning to work, something that caused her some anxiety last nite; she couldn't sleep, woke me up twice -- to ask me "not to snore so loud" & if she could get a glass ofwarm milk -- once she drank 1/2 a gallon in a vain quest for somnolence; usually, her Klonopin (non-descoobied) kicks in & she sleeps too much.

Yesterday, I actually got out of bed early enough to start to re-make/re-model TC. I've only just begun to outline the part about the Galaxies (yeah, Georgia March, "leave out the tachyons" -- right; amateur that you are), but am instead centering around the EVA. Although Ted originally wrote the rough draft of that, it's been totally changed, rearranged, become part insane & part pill-poppin'. Sorry, Charlie, Scoobyism is for idiots. Like Scientology.

just another...

...were you going to say "manic Monday"? Yes, it is Monday -- it also is Memorial Day, & it's supposed to be a little soggy, to the disappointment of many backyard barbequers.

It's also around 6:35; I woke up at 6:00, to use the toilet, & decided to stay up.

Meanwhile, back in the news President Gas met with bikers; & the Department of Homeland Security wastes a lot of money on issues other than "homeland security". Sort of like when President Gas busied himself with worthless wiretaps, ultimately (but indirectly) fraking up my friendship with Joey.

Saturday was fairly typical for a last-day-of-work day for Trish, save that we went to church. Sunday, we mostly just lounged around & watched movies, except Trish wrote an elaborate email to Gene Haire about her issues with the non-descoobied portion of the Scooby Club. The Scooby Club may not be right for everyone. Don't listen to your doctor if he tries to hit you over the head with a Scooby Club.

You better watch out for the Scoobies!

Then she screwed up sending it. I had to look around; for some reason, it'd wound up on the desktop. I promptly clicked SEND & she was all happy.

Joe called yesterday, but it was right during supper -- leftovers; I concocted a goulash of mac & cheese, hamburger & chili. I asked him to call back later; he said Elyana was fixing something herself; apparently, we got our wires crossed somewhere.

But my real reason for getting up early is that I want to work on TC again for a little bit. I don't usually find time on days off -- though I might go back to bed; I have a fraking headache: I think I'll get coffee instead.

hit over the head with a Scooby Club

Most of the last few days has been ordinary, nondescript, fruity goodness (particularly Trish's birthday cake), so the only matter I really have to address is Trish's Scooby Club meetin': she wants out.

1st, we had this Numinous Narcoholic complaining about his sister taking for Chris'sakes prescription medication, which he subsequently labelled "pill-popping". This is idiotic nonsense worthy of Scientology, & we all know Scientology kills!

Issue #2: last nite, as the Scooby litter-ature was being passed around at the meetin', the chair asked me to read from the Blue Book, which solves all your problems -- yeah, right! So I passed it on to Trish; she started apologizing for my vision, some asshole lady goes, "Co-dependent". I am not fucking co-dependent, I am glaucomatic.

My feeling is that she craved feeling, particularly feeling up men's bodies. I think a lot of people in Al-Anon, their old relationships destroyed by Narcohol, are seeking new ones, & aren't about to let a marriage stop them; they've already failed once, so why not bring their inability to have one to other people? Especially people who hang out in the bowels of a church, the erection of a vandal of church doors.

It doesn't look like I'm going to get much more writing done today. Between writing to Hope (to see if my printer's still lopping the tops off capitals), fixing lunch, then reading Science News, I don't have much time for much more before Trish returns from work.

The Galactic Pot Healer strikes again! Legalize it, & I'll go back to the Scooby Club, bong held high in hand...

...& was Jerusalem builded here, in England's green & pleasant land?

Cranky Bear in Midnight Blanket Pullout

It takes awhile to build up to this, the late hours, the electric blanket. Mainly 'cause I haven't written anything in this blog for a couple of days -- the last couple of days were rather ordinary, just me writing about movement & repose (Jesus teaching quantum physics?), save for last nite: Ed & Denise came over with some cake & ice cream (sherbet, actually), for a late birthday celebration for the Bumble Bee Girl & her sweet Pookie Bear. Sad to say, though, Denise told us that she's quitting her job at the Invisible Hospital -- but didn't say why... it's her business, I let it be. Apparently, Ed will try house painting for awhile, during the summer; Denise will start a job hunt in 3-4 weeks.

Then we watched TV when they left, around 9:00. After we went to bed, during the middle of the night, Trish rose like Dawn to use the crapper. I turned into Cranky Bear: I felt that she'd gotten up deliberately, just because I'd awakened a few moments earlier: delusions of reference; she really did have to go wetty (as my mother used to term it, while potty-training her children).

I feel so bad.

I'll make it up with pancakes or toasted frog.

It may rain today; it's been raining here & cool for the last few days; supposedly (if you believe the forecast) will be, continuing thru-out Memorial Day weekend. I just hope Trish can be convinced to walk to work thru the rain without using up too many taxi tickets, ergo, when I have TA today (assuming she doesn't change her plans) I'll ask Car-girl to take me to the Invisible Pizza Hut for a Diet Pepsi & possibly a salad bar. Then, during Trish's hour, the 2 can go out to the Invisible Wally World & pick up 50 buckadingdongs worth of groceries.

Today I might write a few letters, like I did for Trish's mom yesterday -- since Stan Schmidt noticed that my printer was malfunctioning, I've needed to print up a few things, to make sure it is, indeed, fixed. Trish couldn't find any errors while reading her mother's letter, though.

Also, I don't think I'll Critter "Galaxies" another time. I feel sufficiently under-control to go ahead & finish the rewrite without their help, especially since I'm facing a formidable 4-week chunk of mss. coming up next week. If Stan bounces it, I may or may not rework it, though I have no idea who'll be interested if Analog rejects it: some Critter suggested that it might work for F&SF, but I doubt it. I mean, they're not well known as a market for hard science fiction. Asimov's isn't famous as a market for stories about starship sailors lighting up OOBE-doobies & in general getting "sloppy" & go frak yourself, Flying Fruit-bat, I don't care what you thought of the "unbelievable science", you've lost touch with reality -- & where the hell was Bingle when we needed him last Saturday?

it was a birthday yesterday...

...but it's an old day now: Trish turned 40 yesterday, & Karen, to celebrate (& because it was her duty to do budget with us once a month) took us out for breakfast & a movie -- DVD of the Moody Blues. All we did was sit around & watch DVDs, including Disk 1 of the Appendices of LOTR boxed set first movie.

We had a pizza for supper: onions, green peppers, & mushrooms.

Dion called, mostly to sing Happy Birthday to her & discuss my SF with me, which in the case of "Galaxies" is having the more blatant allegorical elements removed from it, inspired by J.R.R. Tokin', the same way I'm removing the Alien-esque elements, thanks to watching that movie. Once done here, it's a matter of re-making/re-modeling Noc-Lar, which I now foresee as a novel series -- even though it took 30 years to get Noc-Lar into its present form. Need more acid; nutmeg may have to suffice instead -- damn! & I thought for once I'd get my 35,000 zulek bonus!

Then I took a Viagra & fucked her little ass off. She had a couple orgasms; mine was delayed & numbed out in the cold soul wilderness -- I have to persuade Doc Larocque to let me stop the Risperdal. It's just as bad as the Orgasm Death at creating OD.

Alien(ation)

Yo, ho, ho, I'm a space-faring Pirate, a reefer (from beyond the reefs of space, the "resistless" word-users).

So yesterday, after getting up at 8:00, with the alarm clock, all Trish & I really did was to watch videos. Starting with Alien, then she had to split for the Invisible Vid-store, as they have Alien, the Special edition; ditto for Part II

After the Alien(ation) finally ended, Trish called Karen. We are going out to do budget today, which is also Trish's birthday -- foxy & fourty.

She made us a couple quesadillos, with cheese from the Invisible Wally-World. While I waited, I discovered Alias, an OK TV show that mostly benefits from a cute face, the plot ideas being ridiculous: ICE-5, which freeze-dries you when you swallow it.

So all in all, it was a good day yesterday, even though it was mostly sitting in front of a blurry screen. Alien gave me some good ideas for ways to avoid a problem in "Galaxies" -- part of the initial plot conception was wrought around something equally alien(ated); it will go next draft. Also requisite is the development of Roxy & Lucifer Sam. Set the controls for the heart of the sun!

another euthymic Saturday...

...as opposed to a manic Monday, a time when, in the past, in my cycling & recycling, I'd pull Mindstorm out from my slushpile beneath my desk, & remake/remodel. My mania is long gone, I over-sleep from Seroquel, but nonetheless, my work on "Galaxies Controlling Fate" has been undergoing an upsurge in beauty. I didn't have an opportunity yesterday to work on it until after noon, being caught up by the Internet, but once begun, the transmutation was worthy of a chemical philosopher.

Trish caught a ride home with Say Bra, maybe... I don't remember. All I know is that I didn't want her to walk home, as the forecast was for possibly severe thunderstorms.

When she was safely ensconced in our domicile, she told me that this kid at work, a driver, may be getting fired: he apparently called a waitress a "fucking bitch cunt". This is incredibly rude & I hope he gets his ass fried for steakburgers.

Trish performed her requisite cleaning tasks, & I deployed her ant traps. The mighty Insect Slayer strikes again! It seems simply beyond her understanding to realize that there'll always be bugs during the summertime.

I also spent a long time on the phone with Dan Dolph. He was his usual talkative self, but turned down the proffered a/c's, so we're taking them to Sally Ann's. Some poor person will have a real Kool day with these ancient behemoths.

Then we watched TV for a bit, & engaged in BJ. Her blowjobs are real atomic. That is one thing I really love about Trish. The only problem was that we did it without Viagra, which no doubt dropped the orgasm from a gusher into a slime-off. I simply have to get off Risperdal, & fuck Scientology!

love & death at the Invisible Scooby Club

Trish attended her 2nd Scooby meetin' last nite. Before we walked the short distance to the place where the vandal of church doors has been enthroned as a cultural icon, we went to Fat Albert's Sons for some groceries & some ant-traps so the Bumble Bee Girl can slay insects -- & spent over 20 buckadingdongs. After supper, leftover hamburger helper, Trish mopped the floor, before which we relaxed in the love seat & listened to old records on the old Rectilinears.

The meetin' itself was... well, even though it's not Narcoholics Numinous, a guy there preached the dread gospel that people who take prescription medication are "pill poppers". Fuck the "program"! I used my "pee-ills" as my "Higher Power".

But then we stood, to say the Lord's pray. The woman who'd sat next to me & chaired the meetin' squeezed my hand, affectionately, flirtatiously.

I squeezed back.

So as we headed out the door, she grabbed me & hugged me -- "hugs, not drugs," being the Scooby motto, & when am I finally going to get medical marijuana? & where the hell was Bingle when we needed him last Saturday? & where are all the big, dumb jocks who always showed you through?

No matter where they are, I've concluded that the woman really was trying to hit on me: when she spoke, she noted that she'd been divorced for "1-1/2 to 2 years". I'm sure she wants a new boyfriend, maybe even marriage? you wanna? but she won't get it from me; she doesn't smoke it.

I wish I had a rasta cigar. Not regular. It would really help with "Galaxies Controlling Fate". I'm also tempted to go out & buy a can of nutmeg, to write "Twin of Morlock". That'd be real atomic.

But dear diary, alas, I must be off to lunch, or at least a dread Scooby snack.

this magic morning, between Car-girl & Scooby Club

During TA time with Car-girl yesterday, we went out to Wally World & bought us some groceries to last a couple of days -- including some sliced Swiss to make up for the pepperjack Trish accidentally bought herself over at Albertson's. Since I had a $30 max budget, I deliberately spent around $20.

After that we went to the Bear Creek Drive-in & got a Diet Mountain Dew with lemon. Next time, I'm trying lime.

Then Car-girl helped Trish organize the closet while I played with my keyboard. Gosh, mom, look what I can do: I can make 150 sounds & 100 rhythms.

We had hamburger helper last nite, then Trish swept the floor while I watched TV. We saw Coyote Ugly, the reality show, on CMT again. It was either that or Cat-woman.

Tonite's time for Trish's Scooby meetin'. If you have a pee-ill problem, it can be fixed with a Blue Book & a meetin'.

rippling rings of dark matter...

...& they shuffle in their madness, with their "Jockstraps" Pynchon while they write up their memoirs for a paperback edition of the Boy Scout manual, & where the hell was Bingle when we needed him last Saturday, & all the politicians making busy sounds & all the dead bodies piled up in mounds?

I just looked at the science page on CNN.com -- rippling rings of dark matter, where 2 galaxies have collided...

...& yesterday I finished a near-complete draft of "Galaxies...", which is being Critter'd, as I Critter everything before it goes to Stan Schmidt, but really, realistically (mortal sin of LYs) I think he's going to buy the story, as it has.... well, galaxies controlling fate from... specifically, thousands of light-years ahead. When Trish leaves for work, I'll format it, write up a set of author's notes, & get it out in the email. Hopefully, it'll keep anyone from having their Jockstraps Pynchon -- everyone knows Bigdom Jacques can't write, or why else would he have dropped my report card in abject terror, after demanding proof of it, that U-boat makes me creative?

Blue shirt belly dancer...

...like Trish's idol, Britney, but she's gone all wiggy.

The next project after "Galaxies" will be Noc-Lar, which quite a few people have asked to see; it is, as Cawelti put it, "commercial", unlike anything David Dalglish has ever done -- rude bastard at Critters, he (apparently) felt personally affronted by my author's notes, so, if in someone else's opinion, especially the opinions of people who should know, & he didn't share their opinions, it was good & he didn't agree, it needed to be ridiculed.

He vanished without a trace. I don't even think he's still on Critters.

Yesterday was a big day for me to work on my writing. I also helped Trish clean Luna-tek's cage. (The Lunatic is on the grass.) We channel-surfed for awhile, & ended up watching Lawn Order. I experimented with taking my non-Scoobified pills an hour early: got me to sleep faster, but still a little over-sedated in the morning; it is the mania I crave, & schizophrenia, be the death of me!

Today will simply be a relaxing day with Car-girl in the afternoon, & where the hell was VADIS when she came close to actually visiting me in Pearce Tower 30 years ago? (The evolution of Mindstorm would've been vastly different. It would've had all the Dick taken out of it, & Lucy, why haven't you bought my novel yet?)

3 daze of fun & dentists (& nothing but fun & music)

Boom-lacka-lacka-lacka! Girl, you couldn't bite my wire!

So Sunday, I did nothing but sleep & watch DVDs, mostly a Buffy marathon, with the beautiful Bumble Bee Girl. Then Monday we had our appointments with Charlene Upstairs & Joe (Nobodaddy calls him by his last name). We both wanted to complain to him about Cheri's ridiculing of Bob about the cuckoo clock

Yesterday (Tuesday) Car-girl drove me to Malta, to see the Medicaid dentist. I had a couple fried & fowl hot dogs & some leftover mushroom soup & rice from the other day's casserole. & then I had to split 'cause I had no time to waste.

The dentist wants to make me a 170 buckadingdong bite-guard that Medicaid doesn't pay for -- though it may be possible to make payments.

While Reuben down Dawn's Highway toward a non-existent evening, Trish called on the cell phone: she'd had a problem at work; they wanted her to work split shift while at the same time they've been cutting her afternoon hours -- which interferes with my daze tormenting my typewriter. Waterboard the frakking typewriter! (George Bush would & President Gas is all for President!)

But instead she could simply go down in the basement with a movie. Except she prefers my speakers to hers. (I don't blame her.) Thus, I'm thinking of throwing 2 Pioneer 8" full-range drivers into boxes for her. Should sound real atomic & no need to frak around with extra wiring & crossovers.

Today, I'm doing another draft of "Galaxies Controlling Fate...", (the best title TC has had yet), removing some of the superfluous romantic elements, keeping (of course) the pertinent sex & drugs, (after all, these are married people in the future --& "drugs" (sweet Jane) will be legal in the future) & cutting down some of the violence toward the end (cat-fight).

I've got to finish this story soon. People are asking to see Noc-Lar, but before I begin on that, I want to have "Galaxies" created & Critter'd. I think Stan might buy it on the re-make/re-model; if not, there are plenty of other markets (who always turn their noses up in the air at my stuff). Noc-Lar finished, comes the tedious process of trying to find an agent.

Yet I will persist. Perhaps for once it'll sell. & I'm never going to lose Her precious gift...

Stay tuned for other exciting developments!

return of the dread Scoobification ritual

Since she's been having problems with Narcoholism in her family, I suggested Trish try Narcoholics Numinous, the place I left in abject terror when they tried to have me "work a program" on my "pee-ills". Timothy Leary was very aware of this, before he was outside, looking in. Finally, I used my pee-ills as my Higher Power & quit the Scooby Club, just another addiction in this City of Night.

We showed up about 15 minutes early, found the room. Mostly, the people there were older women who drank tea instead of Scooby Dew. No one seemed to smoke dem regular cigars, which kind of surprised me.

When the meeting's over, before they turned out the light & we peregrinated the short distance to our domicile, people stopped to chat/gossip; we did none of this, perhaps out of my fears of being Scoobified -- among the issues that had broken me up with Jillong, a true Vadisystem.

So we watched a bit of TV, an Encore of Lost in Space, ate some fruit cocktail for our bedtime snack, & retired.

With my reduced dose of Seroquel I managed to get out of bed at 7:00 with the alarm. Hopefully as the substance clears out of my bodanon (it's not a Bo Dannon, it's a Bod Anon) I'll go back to functioning normally. Whatever that is.

Now, to go & get pancakes for my favorita -- & a place in her heart makes Mr. Friendly happy. (She bought me some Viagra for the weekend -- when will I ever get off of Risperdal, so I can get off?)

Today, even more galaxies are controlling fate. Tomorrow, Trish's day off, I may not have as much chance to control the interior mind-machines that make my characters dance like puppets.

It's all right, as long as I can keep them in boxes...

just another manic Thursday

Not much to report over the last couple of days. Dear diary, I think I told you that I rejected Valerie Piranha (on Trish's behalf). We went to Spider-man 3, which suffers from too large a number of super-villains, & at one point when Trish & I were all alone, I fucked her little ass off. That would teach the Horlots!

Other than that, Doc Larocque approved a decrease in my Seroquel, while pushing our appointments up to July.

Also, Ms. Fruit Bat has a story on Critters that I really feel strongly attempted to just plain trash, after the way she treated me. Mostly, she shouldn't submit to Analog as she doesn't know enough science. Every criticism she made of my book Stan Schmidt enjoyed, particularly the tachyons -- she suggested "taking them out of the story". This seems rather imbecilic.

We've had our a/c on a few times since Friendly Fred inserted the object into the aperture. However, today it's cool & rainy. Trish walked out to Pizza Hut; whether she takes a cab home depends on the weather this afternoon. It's supposed to hit 80 again, soon.

Well, I guess I should go & eat my yummy yogurt. I also have the remnants of a vegetarian stir-fry to eat up, but I'm saving that for later.

It was a good day yesterday...

...but the milk's stale now: when we got the yogurt out of the fridge last nite, the door was left ajar. When I noticed it this morning, I sought out Trish to corraborate; she agreed, it's sour -- but nothing else seemed to have been affected. From now on, we're only buying 1/2 gallons of milk.

It was a good day because we both slept in, then paid the water bill, $20 apiece. We went to the bank to take out money for a new a/c for the bedroom, then to the license bureau, to destroy the possibility of ever needing to get held up in the line in a plane station & tell them ain't got no birth certificate here.

We went briefly to the Layout, where Cheri's behavior was utterly reprehensible: she laughed at Bob, encouraged others to do so. When we reported it to Perky Pam, she wanted us to file a formal complaint with Joe. Someone working professionally(?) with the mentally ill should know better.

We then went to El Taco Loco, looking for Mexican food & a place to eat; from there to Spidey-3, which seemed over-produced with too many villains, but at the same time a fairly faithful rendition of the original. From there, we went to Subway & had a turkey sandwich. Trish saved her chips for today.

Last nite, then, will number among the last we'll endure summer heat, save for that which we create together, a pointless act of love, no life comes from it; tubes tied & Loveless.

But the machine works -- well, super-kool. Today the forecast predicts mid-80s, we'll see how it runs. Then later in the month Karen's helping us find one for the living room.

This afternoon, it's back to work on GALAXIES. Creating a Mary to compensate Maria is an act of quasi-divine intervention into his characters descending from Thought into Word (no Fundies allowed) by an author who is still Jung at heart.

& cheerleading springbreakgirl (Valerie Piranha) can kiss my ass, Willow-imitator & all. We picked up a Viagra yesterday, want to experience tonite that which transcends galaxies. & supernovas burning to the very core of Creation.

Valerie Piranha's gone...

...she was Trish's favorita, but I deleted her from the rapidly-dwindling Ho or No double-match list:

--Are you alone?
--Yes.
--We could do it without her.
--It would hurt her
--She'd never need to know...

...so after a few more lines of chat, she switched her status to "unavailable", click! & she's gone.

I did the right thing. No Ho, even a Ho who swallows, is worth destroying a relationship over.

I go now to eat ham & swiss. After my luncheon, I'll type the secret origins of the Noc-Lar, for Trish's brother. Tomorrow we go to Spider-man 3. I want to be ready.

vacation (get away), return (don't get published)

Yeah, that's right; I just garnered another dose of encouragement in the form of another almost-but-not-quite from Analog. Stan Schmidt said that he liked a lot of the ideas, particularly the one about the TC going sub-light, Trekkie warp-bubble aside. However, it failed to "get" him into the story, hence another rewrite, another Critters'fication, followed by another re-make/re-model, after which I'll send him the revised story, this time with the caps intact (hopefully): he noted in a PS that my priter needed to be fixed, as Timothy Leary had once noted about his own priter problems.

So Thursday the 27th Trish & I went Reuben down the highway, along with Reniee. When we arrived at the airport, as I prepared to board the plane, a security officer noticed that my ID was out of date; that the day of savages had passed. They did additional security checks on me, the magic wand & what-not (patty-cake).

After a fairly routine flight, we couldn't find Ro, Trish's mom, so we peregrinated vast abysses formed in the tile floor by dread imagination. Ro then entered as Trish tried to call her on the phone; she'd passed out before coming to the airport; apologized for being a little late; apologized in advance for the condition of her house.

She threw herself into some frenzied cleaning before the family came over: Kenneth, Candy, & their son, J.T. & Dion.

The next day we went into town to visit Kenneth at his home, & Dion & Brian joined us. J.T. nearly hurt himself in the kitchen, so his parents forbade him to run there, so he started to cry.

The next day we pretty much spent with Ro, eating junk food & watching satellite TV.

Wednesday Ro showed Trish how to curl her hair, following which we went to see Next, in order to see if it was a worthwhile adaptation of Dick. It certainly looked like one of his shorts.

The next day we were sky-borne once more, but Elko allowed me to use my birth certificate as a 2nd form of identification. Beyond the in-flight peanuts, the trip went well, save for the snow: it'd just started up before we left, the turbo-prop got delayed, so we didn't have any time before the plane landed to eat anything in SLC.

When we arrived at Great Falls, we discovered that I'd told Car-girl the wrong time, so we ate at the bistro inside the airport, sky-jacked prices & everything. When Car-girl arrived & eventually conveyed us back to the Invisible landscape, we entered to find a new stove in our kitchen. It has since provided us with some toasty pancakes. Tonite we'll use it on some chicken.

Then this morning, after Trish walked to work, I found GALAXIES in my mailbox. I think I know how to fix it, but do want to re-Critter the edit. After that is "Bio-Esthectics" & resumption of Noc-Lar. The returned version of GALAXIES goes to Elko. If Stan Schmidt does begin to buy my mss, I'll also try to rework FRAGILE EGGSHELL MIND, & frak Robbie Matthews, he runs a 2nd-rate amateur magazine: stories that aren't approved by his ignorant army of "experts" come back with insults.