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Blogs I Follow
- THE DES LEWIS GESTALT REAL-TIME REVIEWS: Wood, Metal, Stone
- The Baseball Sociologist
- Silent Motorist Media
- Christopher Slatsky
- Gehenna & Hinnom Books
- Baseball History Comes Alive!
- Shadows & Tall Trees
- Chaotic Shapes
- J. A. Allen
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- Who Killed Orrin Grey?
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- The Book of Hangman
- The Conqueror Weird
- Cubs Central
Category Archives: jimi hendrix
New tunes up at RPM Challenge 2017. Just about up to the minimum chronic requirements, and have enough music as well 😛
Also one of the RPM tunes morphed into a jazz-rock number, a little reminiscent of maybe Vanilla Fudge with a little Cipollina and a little Jimi thrown into the hopper.
I know, deep subject, joke too-often told. Yeah, yeah, yeah. Last time, I reported that I was going to try to blog on the off-days from creating Cub Tracks. I just skipped a couple of days.
They’ve been busy days. I’m amid one of those spells of productivity that I seem to be cursed with and I’m generating new copy and riffs in bulk. Some of it is even worth keeping.
Here’s todays Cub Tracks (Masters Reality) – link – with the fabulous image:
I build these articles as little stories. First I prospect for links, in mostly predetermined places, and see what kind of narrative can either be gleaned or imposed on that collection of webpages.
I’m looking for things that either can create discussion by themselves, or that augment previous discussion on other pages on the site, or that continue the prevailing narrative of the fanbase in general.
Right now, the Cubs are the top of the heap. They’ve conquered as much of the baseball world as you can without actually playing the games. So I’m playing off of that.
The rest I pack with in-jokes, subreferences, links to videos, links to sarcastic commentary, whatever works to further the entertainment value of the piece, or to educate and inform. Just discovering how much I can do with the form.
It takes a couple or three hours three days a week to accomplish this all. The process is pretty involved, but I think it’s worth doing things right. Continue reading
As an independent publisher, one of my chief joys and major headaches is in manufacturing or locating art appropriate for my books. I’ve been fortunate and have found talented artists who can and will create astonishing visuals for my front/back covers.
I combed through deviantart first, but nobody ever responded to contact attempts. Did some of my own art/covers, but I’d like to gain exposure for some people along with myself.
So I started looking at semiprofessionals and professionals. The issue is that people like that like to be paid, and I’m on the Federal tit. I write for pocket money.
Low overhead…bang for the buck.
But it turns out to be okay. I just can’t front the money. The costs will be recouped fairly quickly-for example, 25 copies of Fear and Loathing In Innsmouth (@9.99 each) will pay the overhead.
The successful campaign to raise the funds for hosting/consulting for Letters from Outside now folds in to the Duane’s Books campaign. I’ve added a couple of cool incentives, to wit: free ebooks and autographed copies of books.
I’ve already paid artists Candra Hope and JB Lee for their outstanding work. Ian Sidlow was generous enough to donate a photograph for another cover, for a book that isn’t listed on the publication schedule for the campaign. (Surprises!) Killer stylists Will Jacques and Ryan Case remain to be paid. I’m still looking for one more piece, and I’ve made/am making the rest of the material, plus promo videos, audio versions, and other gizmos and gimcracks.
Whatever I can’t do myself will be crowdfunded, and others will be able to win too. That seems the best way to go about things, to me.
Yesterday, “Brook” got her birthday present a week early-a 1/2 size hot pink acoustic guitar:She has been practicing. She now knows Em, E, D, Dm, and has made inroads toward making G and A ring. This morning I showed her the blues scale and a minor pentatonic scale, and we discussed how improvisation is done and how songs are put together. Once she has the G and A down, I’ll introduce C and F and we’ll start building a repertoire for her.
Purple Haze and Nights in White Satin will be the first ones. We’ll also work on composing our own material, augmented by the dozen or so percussive gizmos I have lying around.
The world’s newest guitarist will have plenty of additional time to practice. She’s grounded again. Can’t spend five minutes outside without forgetting about the simple ground rules. “Stay in earshot” “Don’t go over to the ghetto-ass kids’ house to play” “Stay out of the parking lot”.
I predict that, at this rate, she’ll be famous by the time she’s 11.
The ghetto-ass kids’ dad is next door working on the cabinetry in the recently-abandoned apartment there. I sincerely hope he heard my lecture.
The littlest one, age seven, who goes by the nickname Yaya, is a yeller. She likes to scream and shout to try to get her way. Faith goes outside and she is told “If you play with my sister, you can’t ride my scooter any more.”
Instead of turning around and saying “Li’l bitch, we gave you that scooter, and your sister is more fun anyway,” Faith gets upset and tears around the complex on a borrowed bike, therefore being out of earshot when I call for her.
Ten minutes later, she drags her scooter into the kitchen and bugs right back out again before I can say anything.
I look out, and she’s on the back of Chi-chi’s (the older sister, all of nine) bike, going around the corner of a building about fifty yards away, in the parking lot.
I slap a tank together and go out the other way, to head them off at the pass, but no. They double back and go back in the ghetto-ass apt.
Sitting on the patio, biding my time. I water the plants and look over the gate periodically.
Eventually herself sees me and comes over.
“Get inside,” I say. “We need to talk. And take that scooter gear (kneepads, elbow pads) off–you won’t need it anymore today.”
The ensuing conversation ended, unfortunately, like so many do, with grounding and a turn in the corner, facing the wall, butthurt. During the course of the dialogue, the phrase “I don’t know” was repeatedly used to justfiy actions taken, as was “I just like to play”. The latter is okay. Not so in-depth, but excusable, depending on the behavior it’s used to represent. But the first is one of the two things that are guaranteed to makes things take a bad turn (the other is to lie to my face and have me catch her).
The child knows this. She is apparently incapable of considering the results of her actions, despite repeated preaching, beseeching, reasoning, back-patting, and other conditioning methods used to reinforce a positive behavior pattern.
She doesn’t like thinking. It makes her head hurt.
It makes my head hurt to think of another ten years of this mindless impulse-following. I’m afraid sometimes her head will just collapse in on itself. Either that, or fill up with cats (who abhor a vacuum, you know).
I’m fairly strict. I expect a lot, I’m told. Too much–I expect literacy and some degree of self-awareness and self-knowledge. I want to see some intellectual curiosity and the ability to tell right from wrong and to act accordingly.
Very little of that going on. So I’m looking at music as the way to get that sort of patience and determination going.
Fingers, eyes, legs, toes crossed. Only can only hope.
Or House of Blog or somesuch.
Here’s the list of creations:
Modblog, the domain version, which won’t be incorporating any of the content from this blog (officially the son of the son of modblog in my private nomenclature). That’ll have the basic daily rants and screeds and fluff, and update posts like this one. I’m committed to daily posting and may well crosspost between the three blogging platforms-blogger, wordpress, and my domain. It depends on how much I have to say each day.
I’m planning at the very least to do a lot more reviews-books and cds more so than movies, which I don’t watch much, and more sports content. Cubs, Bears, Blackhawks specifically. I get a lot of the Cub games on WGN, and the Bears have a few national games. The Hawks are rarely on tv, and the 160 bucks for a season’s worth of streaming is ridiculous. But I digress…next on the list is :
Fallen Earring, the eventual home for the edited first draft of the nanonovel. This version is radically different from the versions previously posted. The delivery system is all that I kept-otherwise it’s a complete rewrite and is causing retrocon ripples throughout my little pocket universe.
You’ll notice that the design is a little different…in that the background is the same gif that I made most of the old buttons from. I think it looks pretty good in that context, and I’ve chopped up the colored-pencil drawing some and used it for a header graphic as well as the “book cover”.
WordWorld, where I’m planning to post a good variety of my written work. That will include the revised versions as well as some first and second drafts as I wish to discuss the genesis of some of the pieces.
The content will change from time to time as I add and subtract pieces, depending on which segment of the overall continuity they’re slotted into at the moment.
The design has my usual starfield background and a bunch of desk tools, including the requisite cuppa joe.
Fear and Loathing In Innsmouth. This webcomic (including a portion that is envisioned as a graphic novel) will be starting around the New Year.
The greenish color scheme indicates the relation to the Letters from Outside anthology, due to start appearing around the same time.
There are also a couple of things I’m not prepared to unveil as yet. It seems that I found the key to my lethargy after all as my O2 converter experienced complete fail at @2 am, causing my dearest to be awakened and the on-call tech to be summoned. It had been sounding like a garbage truck in the driveway for most of the afternoon and night, and finally gave up the ghost.
Fortunately I had one last portable tank on hand and D put that together while I made the call. The whole process was handled very professionally, and Jose was here within the hour to change out the unit. I’d have to say that the old converter was probably failing for a while, and that’s why I was feeling so run-down that I was literally huffing and puffing just from getting up to go into the kitchen. Burning plastic fumes, air instead of straight oxygen, a combination of the two, those are likely culprits.
I’m feeling much better. My gigantic migraine has just about gone away. D has gone to work dspite having just a couple hours’ sleep, though she’s gonna go home early if allowed. Last Friday was pretty slow, or so I was led to understand. Let’s hope today is likewise. We could use the money but she has to be exhausted.
14,481 words now in the books, as of this morning. Changing the metafictional conceit and making the mc a blogger rather than a vidcaster, and changing the setting to more-or-less present day has made a huge difference in thrust and has gotten me through a long section of infopak and dialogue, simply by breaking it up into digestible chunks.
Making each chapter a blogpost has been a masterstroke as far as the writing. I’m surprised that it took me so long, considering how much I enjoy writing flash fiction. I’d always thought of the novel as a themed-short collection. Now it’s short-shorts, and I don’t plan to apply any Nair as yet.
Was going to do an edit of the first 10k and throw it on here over the weekend, but I don’t think so right now. I’m just going to keep chugging along. Tonight I should finally finish the musical portion of the backtrack to Dereliction of Duty, and it’s entirely possible that I might get the voiceover done as well and get the whole thing wrapped up. I’m pretty mad at myself for taking so long. I think Sam is too, but he’s nice enough not to say so. Will give the project extra attention as a result. Sounds pretty nice so far-Mozart-to-Metallica-in-a-minute.
I have a suspicion as to the cause of my recent lethargy, and we’ll see if that bears fruit (it has to do with my O2 system, which has been sounding funny the last day or so). My unfortunate bout with insomnia continues-I’m still keeping vampire hours and sleeping a couple of hours at a time.