Four Novels That Shaped Me

So the trouble with blogging more is finding things to talk about. Everyday is not a thing because I never know one day to the next what I’m going to be doing. Today one of those twitter games came across my feed. Name four novels that helped shape you. Then you have to tag four people which is a part that ruins things for me. If you need to make these things chain letters to propagate them then is it really a good idea? In this case it is a good idea so I’ll just forgive the tagging aspect. 

 

For me the four novels are (In the order they came into my life):

My Teacher Flunked the Planet by Bruce Coville.

Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury.

The Siege of Mt. Nevermind by Fergus Ryan.

The Q by Beth Bower.

 

Now this is a twitface game so there is a limit to how much you can write. It’s meant to be a little thing to read and move on to the political arguments and nostalgia memes for teenagers. But this is a bloog and so I have plenty of space to unpack things. 

 

So let’s go in order. 

 

My Teacher Flunked the Planet is a book for children. The best books are written for children these days. Adults are too immature to appreciate the finer things in life. Anyway, this is a sequel to a book I’ve never read. I think I have a copy but I have a lot of books. Being the youngest of six kids most of my books were hand-me downs, which may sound rough but it ends up that I had access to a much more robust library than any of my siblings. That may be why I’m the reader/writer of the group. This book came to me as I was having a bout of insomnia, we were going to the waterpark the next day so I really needed to sleep. I picked up a random book because at the time I was of the opinion that reading was boring and I needed some boredom to help me sleep. I didn’t sleep. I read the whole book, then I was super tired at the water park as I thought about it. That’s an important thing when it comes to reading that I wouldn’t really learn till number two on my list. Digestion is the important part when it comes to consumption. MTFtP’s main premise is the importance of teachers. Yes the teacher in this book is the villain who is planning on destroying earth. That’s pretty important I’d say. I keep circling back to the idea that I want to be a teacher largely because of this book.

 

Fahrenheit 451 is the only one on my list that is considered an ‘important’ book. It’s the one that gets assigned in school and that is where I encountered it. In highschool I had the bad habit of sleeping through class. Part of this was the aforementioned insomnia, part of it was the mono I had in 9th grade. This sleeping through class caused me to fall a little behind, particularly in English class. So I had to do make up packets. One of these was for Fahrenheit 451. I had a fever when I read it. The lush language of Bradbury really landed with me in that state. That book haunts me and is the main reason I became a book dragon. I have this dream of getting a shipping container and filling it with book and burying it in the desert. (Please note that there is a difference between dreams and goals. Goals I actually plan to accomplish. Dreams are crazy things I want to do but won’t actually do for various reasons.)

 

The Siege of Mt. Nevermind is probably the rarest book on this list. It is as far as I can find the only book Fergus Ryan published. (If the void that is the internet knows another I would love to hear it.) It is a Dragonlance book from the Chaos War series. It is horribly out of print. Being a Dragonlance book it was a work-for-hire for Wizards of the Coast owned by Hasbro. Hasbro does not let go of intellectual property. They aren’t going to do anything with it and they aren’t going to let anyone else do anything with it. The main Dragonlance books are in e-book but this one is very ancillary so it is not going to be a priority anytime soon. It does have an audio version so at least it exists still. My copy is very precious to me. I read that book when I was in seminary in high school. We had a special missionary week where we were not allowed (by our choice) to watch tv or listen to music to simulate how life would be when we would become missionaries. It was a spiritually fulfilling week and I also think it turned off a lot of people in my generation from missionary work. Really though missionaries are usually too busy for distractions like that, we were just bored. I did read a lot that week. The Siege of Mt. Nevermind tells the story of the home of the Gnomes being invaded by the evil knights. This is a Dungeons and Dragons book so evil means alignment. Knights meant they were lawful. Things don’t go according to plan for the knights because Gnomes in the Dragonlance are nuts. Their motto is if it ain’t broke fix it till it is. The main character is a Gnome who was banished to work in the lower levels because of a misadventure. His comrades got off with a slap on the wrist but he was convicted of the greater crime of knowing better. I can relate. It’s a goofy book with a real heart. The other main character is an evil paladin. If you can’t wrap your head around those last two words being together welcome to the Dragonlance chaos war. Understanding him, his motives, his thought process. It is a masterful work that few people have experienced. I’m afraid to read this book again because I think it will undo the experience I had as a teenager. I should.

 

Book number four came to me not too long ago. It’s another one I need to read again. The Q is a newspaper that only prints questions. Quincy is the woman who runs that paper. Her uncle who owns that paper dies and leaves a stipulation in her will that it will belong to her if she accomplishes a series of tasks that are unknown to her before a deadline. The tasks are designed to teach her how to live a human life. She’s a workaholic. The Q the book has become my favorite book. Every book is my favorite right after I read it. The concept of favorite itself troubles me in it’s reduction. Still, when people ask me my favorite book one of these floats to the top but The Q gets there first. The basic plan of this book is the complete dismantling of the individual to find out what is next. It is very Russian in this regard. It is set in a fantastical country that is somehow in the middle of London. There is a definite steampunk aesthetic but that is about the only thing speculative about it. There is no reason that comes to memory that would make it speculative except the location. I may have forgotten something along the way. This book came into my life at Life, the Universe, and Everything, the writing symposium I go to every year. It’s a generally small event that has some heavy hitting guests. It is generally considered to be the center of the Utah speculative writing scene. Also Utah is very overly represented when it comes to Sci-fi/Fantasy shelves. I guess the heaviest hitter who is a regular guest is Sanderson. It was the thing that kept me going through the rough years when my diabetes went undiagnosed and I was barely keeping awake. Now it is my inspiration. Beth Bower, the author of The Q had a table in the dealer room. She also was on some panels but I don’t know if I attended them. (I could go back through my program from that where I marked what panels I attended, but the important thing when writing is to keep the butt in the chair.) I talked to her on the first day, I wasn’t buying anything that day because I was waiting to see everything before I shot my book budget. Plus I plan on doing most of my purchasing for the mass author signing they usually have on the second day. I was just bumming around in the dealer room for my lunch hour. It’s nice to feel that energy. She gave me her pitch and The Q sounded interesting but I told her why I was holding back. The next day I realized I really wanted it. I kept thinking about it through the panels. I went to the dealer room first thing and she saw me and she knew exactly what I wanted, sadly everyone else wanted it too. It was sold out. She promised me she would bring me a copy the next day. She kept her word. She brought me her personal copy, the last one she had. I’m glad she did. She signed it and I read it as soon as the symposium was over. It’s a beefy book. 500 pages. I don’t see how it could have less. It is still a tight story. I don’t know what else I can say about it. It spoke to my soul.

 

I guess I’ll keep twitter around a little while longer if it gives me ideas like this. I had considered dropping both it and facebook, but then facebook gave me the opportunity to speak to friends in real life that I haven’t seen in a long time. I do need to reduce how much brainspace I give to those things but they also still have value for me. I guess it’s hard to let go of an addiction. If I had more real life interaction with people I probably wouldn’t hesitate to drop them, but they still account for 99.99% of my connection with people. So I guess that’s that.

Blogging for the Sake of Blogging

So,I need to be writing blog posts. I know this cognitively. I even have been writing them and simply not posting them. I’m not sure why. The writing is fine for me but the posting activates my social anxiety. I find my social anxiety fascinating, in the same way my fear of heights fascinates me. First my fear of heights. I never know when it will be activated. I work in a building with a four story chasm in the middle. At the middle of this chasm is a vent to a geothermal plant even deeper. I don’t know how deep. In the middle of this chasm is a staircase that I ascend and descend several times a day. If I chose the elevators they are glass with a nice view of the chasm. This does not activate my fear. This fear is not in my mind it is a bodily fear. It’s just a full body clench. Sometimes I step onto a stool and the fear hits me. 

The same situation is with social situations. In my mind it isn’t a problem, but my body doesn’t want me to talk to a person. But whatever, such is a thing. My point is I need to be bloggin more even if it is rambling nonsense that anyone can read and yet no one will. Somehow that’s comforting to me. I can communicate without actually communicating. Yes, this may be hacking my own wetware, I’m prepared to live with that.

Really, I’m here at LtUE feeling inspired to work and get things done and I guess this is a manifestation of this. Yeah it would be good to summarize what I learned here. I have attempted to do such in the past but it takes a while to digest when you are drinking from the firehose. In the past I had planned to but then so much time passed that I just gave up. 

One thing I had planned at last LtUE was to finish a draft of a novel before the next one. I would have made it but I lost two weeks to an exploded appendix. I am close though and the end is in sight. No, you can’t read it because it is a deeply first draft. My plan now is to finish the outline and the next draft by next LtUE. Yeah some people write novels quicker than that. I am not at that point yet. I could have been if not for my health the last few years. No time for regrets though. I expect the next draft to go faster than the last one. This one I spent most of my time figuring out what to do. That’s the hard part for me. The next draft is about making it beautiful which is what I fancy myself as being good at. 

So that’s the plan. Blog more, write more, be more.

Just A Spoopy Story For The Spoopy Times

It Takes A Village
by Vernon Ray Jackson

“rePent,” declared the brass letters on the mahogany board I held over my head. I wanted something more like “THE END IS NIGH!” or “DESTRUCTION APPROACHES,” but you have to work with what can chip off of welcome signs when you live in a small village like Penderton. Not that there’s anything wrong with repentance. Repentance is a fine philosophy to live by. What was going to happen tonight had nothing to do with my people’s sins. Things would be so much easier if I could just come out and say, “it will come for us tonight so arm yourselves, barricade your families in the beet cellars, and think stupid thoughts.” If that worked there would be no need for village idiots like me.

Idiocy doesn’t run in my family, it shambles. That’s some industry humor. You hear that all day at idiot conventions. Dumb jokes seem to be present in every industry, but for us it is our industry. I just lied to you. Lies are our real industry. We don’t have conventions. Industry implies we actually produce something people will pay for. That would give the whole thing away. It is always watching. If it knew what idiots were really doing they would just wipe us all out. Idiocy doesn’t actually run in my family. My father is a thatcher and he tries hard to understand my career choices. I didn’t fall into idiocy because I was bad at thatching. I’m pretty good at thatching actually. I grew up in a thatchery hatchery as the youngest of many thatchers. How many? Counting is looked down on in my profession. Numbers are too solid and predictable. They behave the same way every time. There was one crackpot years ago who floated the idea of imaginary numbers. We all just figured he was just irrational. I don’t trust those shifty crackpots. They have yet to prove that being too intelligent is effective against it. No crackpot, creep, crank, or crazy can measure up to the classic idiot. If your village is in danger of attracting it you can do no better than a village idiot.

It likes intelligence. It feeds on it. No, I don’t mean it is a cannibal. I was using a pronoun not a name. It makes talking about it hard. ‘It’ has been a name given to ominous monsters throughout time. It is a simple word that quickly conveys enough information for your brain to comprehend the threat without wasting cycles thinking about it. It’s a small word after all. There is just one i and a little t, and that’s all there is to the word you see.

Tomatoes are good for the skin. Some people spend atrocious amounts of money to get tomato baths at fancy spas. Plus it really does help with the skunk smell. The old wives tell good tales sometimes. The boys who were throwing them at me didn’t understand why they were doing it. They thought they were being rude in a way that was safe because they knew I would not lash out at them. If I did they believed that the law would be on their side. They may be right. I wonder if they had been told in secret moments that I was really the protector of the village. That’s the trouble with a secret like this though, it needs to be a secret. Kids are terrible actors. They say you should never work with children or animals because they will upstage you every time with little to no effort. They don’t need a reason to be cruel. That is a natural part of growing up. It’s a power move for those who feel powerless. If only they knew. To them I was just the village idiot. As far as official titles go I could do much worse, they could have called me mayor.

I did run for mayor once. There was no hope of me winning. How they do elections in this village is simple. They hold a lying contest. Everyone gets up on stage and the people decide which lies they like best. I brought my blanket and laid down on the stage. Misspelling verbally is one of the best ways to lie. I guess my snores didn’t promise to make enough people’s dreams come true because I didn’t get a single vote. It is un-honorable to vote for oneself. Our current mayor is conceited and vain, as the best politicians are. She understands how to press the flesh. People love her because she is calm in the face of crisis. She accomplishes this by not paying much attention. The village doesn’t fall apart because no one really wants it to. Leadership is important as a handy place to store the useless people so they’ll be out of the way when real work needs to be done.

Sorry. I forgot about the tomatoes. Acidic, good for the skin. It’s almost like taking a shower. I wouldn’t mind taking a shower, but I’m not allowed. That’s not the kind of thing they put in the brochure. They tend to not print brochure’s for secret jobs. The boys throwing the tomatoes were mainly from the Clawson family. They were following Frank Oliver. He’s the kind of guy who’s just charismatic enough to make a fortune selling cars. Cruel because it gives him power. Petty because he’s afraid of losing any ounce of that power. The littlest Clawson knew this was wrong. He hadn’t yet learned the dangers of empathy. I always wanted to call him Timmy. He just seemed the Timmy type. He actually had a pretty dignified name. I’ve vote for him right now if I could remember his name. He’s got a future if survives the night. I guess that’s true of anyone here. Timmy Clawson is nothing special though. That speaks well for humanity and that’s why I think they are worth saving. I should stop with that thinking before I get slapped with conduct unbecoming of an idiot.

The boys got shooed away by the cobbler. Literally. They were just soft moccasins. Smooth deerskin. No cause for assault charges. You don’t want to be throwing steel toes at children. Especially not at a Clawson child. In the history of names ‘claw’ had to come from somewhere. The cobbler, Sue, was small. People called her an elf but they were just being rude. Her ancestors came from some island somewhere. A sunny place. You could tell because she kept that sun in her soul, and in her smile.

“You shouldn’t let them do that.” Sue bent over and picked up the moccasins and began rubbing the mud off of them.

“Tomatoes are good for the skin. Some people pay a lot of money at spas for this treatment.” I rubbed the skin on my face accidently in rhythm with her.

“Sure, but we need to teach them they can’t treat people like that, You know what they say.” She rubbed a little harder at a particularly stubborn clump.

“I know, it takes a village. That’s more and more true as time passes. Maybe even tonight.” I moved the rubbing down my arm.

Sue looked down at my feet. Mud caked, toes wild and bent in random directions. “I wish you’d let me give you some shoes. It’s getting cold.”

“Nah, my hobbit blood runs strong.” I wiggled my toes, thinking this wouldn’t prove her point.

“I read that book. The elf and the hobbit sailed away together.

Now you get to see my super power. I always know the exact wrong thing to say, my weakness is that I can’t stop myself from saying it. “Those elves were tall and didn’t make shoes.

The moccasins hit me in the face and she was already gone before I looked for her. I’m lucky she didn’t have the presence of mind to remove her boots. I know I should have said something like, “only after the quest was finished.” That would have left her with some hope. Maybe something more like, “Yes lets run away together now,” would have worked. I could escape and leave this village to its fate. Unfortunately I have responsibilities. Someone like Sue would ruin the whole scheme. Idiots aren’t allowed happiness, or even just a bit of fun.

Crap I need to eat. My endurance at this stage was the fence keeping the world from plunging into the canyon. It might be a nice view, or maybe the danger just makes it exciting. Or maybe I’m not making any sense. The village had an under the table understanding with me. Feeding me kept me safe. I have to beg for it of course. They couldn’t be seen just gratefully giving me my sustenance. Such an exchange would be noted and notes pile up. I can’t image it having a desk in a cubicle cluttered with tasks to do but it’s just such a miserable creature that would make a lot of sense. Truthfully I don’t know if it even exists. In the natural sense I don’t see how it could. I have to keep the possibility in the back of my head that I’m just crazy and all of this is made up in my head. That would be a lot better really. I could maybe go get this help they’re always talking about on refrigerator magnets. If I’m not though. If I’m not prepared for the night it comes and kills us all I don’t think I could live with myself. The treatment for such a thing might be bad enough that it does the trick as well. No, it wouldn’t go to a place like that first. Shakespeare was talking about the village idiot industry when he said that all the world was a stage. We must all play our part well.

Belladonna’s was my favorite restaurant. Belladonna was my favorite chef. She smoked turkeys like it was fun. It probably was fun. It would be nice to have fun. Essence of turkey called me forth. I could almost see myself float towards the restaurant following the organic flowing line like a cartoon character. As I approached I knew it wasn’t going to work. She slammed her door shut and turned down the storm shutters. She must have also closed the flue on her fireplace because smoke billowed out of the cracks in the weather stripping. Smoke is really the only thing that can billow. That was silly. I’m not Santa.

I knocked on the door. “I know you’re home I can hear your patrons coughing.”

“No.”

“Just a little bit of smoked turkey?”

“Charity has its limits.”

I’ve drawn from this well too greedily. Dug too seep. Worn the drum thin. Knocked one too many skeletons into the deep. Sue got that book stuck in my head. I’m not sure I’m remembering it properly. I try to harvest evenly to keep the soil of the human heart rich. Having a favorite has spoiled things. I guess vendors are like children. Alas. It would probably be better optically if I ate garbage anyway. It must be watching closely today. Aged, smoked turkey marinated in dumpster juice. Just like mom used to make. Wait, that was rude. Sorry mom. Having a moment of quiet introspection in the alley on the eve of battle makes me grumpy apparently. Having never battled I was learning all sorts of new things. This kind of thinking was dangerous. Luckily a tapping broke me out of my stupor. A billy club tapping on a dumpster is a sharp sound. Cuts right through you. Makes the hammer in your ear want a nail.

“Could you stop that nuisance?” I sucked at the jangly end of a turkey bone.

“That’s what I was planning on saying. Bel says you were annoying her customers.” Rob the cop kept tapping with his club just to remind me who was in charge here.

I lost suction on the bone and it slid slowly down my shirt. I learned that grease can increase friction in some circumstances. When cold on a porous surface even a lubricant is sticky. That doesn’t sound right, I may be wrong here. Being wrong about things would be a good thing.

“That’s kinda the point isn’t it? I’m supposed to be annoying. We shouldn’t be talking about this.” I nodded my head upward.

“Right, the monster. It’s the one that’s gonna kill us all if I arrest you for public urination.” Tap tap tap.

“I admit that was a wrong way to broach the subject with you. I really had to go.” I looked down just to be sure. I wasn’t clear on where exactly it came from.

“Exactly what Bel said. She doesn’t want you around her restaurant anymore. Even back here.” Tap tap tap.

This day was ending up costing me more than I expected.

“Do you need somewhere warm to sleep tonight?” The tapping ceased.

“Sleep is not an option tonight. Warmth would only make things harder. It’s real you know. I’m not making this up.” This was too much. I might have spoiled the whole thing. I always felt compelled to tell Rob more than I should. I quickly drained the lizard on Rob’s leg to cover the smell and ran off. Anger blocks psychic powers. I might have that backwards. This might have been a mighty mistake. I’d have to worry about that later. Evading a grumpy cop so I could save the village would have to take priority. Learning the nuances of psychic powers could wait for the weekend. I’ll have time to study when I’m dead. Speaking of, I ran straight to the church. The ancient law of sanctuary must have some value.

The church was the first structure build in the village. A place needs a soul before it can from a body. Lit by candles for such time, the interior was coated in a fine layer of preserving wax. A few of the devout sat partaking of the sacramental. The priest stood at the pulpit ready to take confession, holding a towel in anticipation of polishing something glass. A soft, gothic litany played on the juke box. I find metal to be the most prayerful of the rock genres.

“I’ll never understand how you pay your tab every month.” The priest now animated by my presence poured me my usual dose of holy water.

“The lord provides.” Honestly, a miracle was the only way to explain how I gave a fake address that happened to belong to a well off but absent minded fellow who didn’t read his bills too closely. I hope the real lord forgives this sort of indiscretion. A drink now and then is not the worst tip for one engaged in such lifesaving work. I drank too quickly and forgot to taste the flavor. Some drinkers imbibe in spite of the flavor. They see it as the thing that must be muscled through in order to enjoy the effects of the depressant. Personally I think the burning and the bitter is the main thing and the soporific is the impediment. I broke a rule I never follow and asked for a second serving.

“That kind of day huh?” The priest polished a glass with his towel. The glass was really burnished. He did that a lot.

“It’s going to be. You should probably close early. Unless staying open longer would be the right play. This might actually help things.”

“Ah, your monster.”

“Everybody’s monster.”

“Everyone has a monster.”

“Yes, I know. It’s coming tonight.” I never worried about openly talking about it in church. I have a feeling that the law of sanctuary extends to the supernatural realm.

“I meant that in more of a metaphysical way. Everyone has their own problems and they come here to try and fight them. I help where I can.”

“Yes. You do good work reverend. But I’m talking about the real monster that is going to come tonight and eat everyone’s brains if I don’t succeed tonight.”

“Well that’s your limit today. We wouldn’t want you sleeping through your heroism.”

“That’s what they say. Sleep is for the week. Fun for the weekend.”

Being properly blest, I remembered why I came in here when Rob opened the door and exposed the dank church to the horrid light of the daystar. He had changed into his spare pants he kept in the trunk.

“Did I forget to mention that I need to invoke sanctuary?”

“Do you ever not need sanctuary?”

Rob sat down and ordered a coke. There was a rule against the sacramental in uniform. Separation of church and state. The priest almost tapped some rum into it out of habit.

“I really should arrest you. I’ve got enough evidence to at least put you in a nice white room.” Rob sipped his coke slowly.

“Let’s see how you feel about that tomorrow. Once I’ve saved the village then we can discuss remuneration.” I tapped my glass on the pulpit.

“All I have to say is, ‘danger to himself and others.’ I could get Bel to testify. The whole village would turn up for the hearing.”

The priest ticked a mark in his little book of tax writeoffs. My drinks should count toward that public service deduction. “I’m not sure that would do the way you want it to Rob. Too many people are rooting for this guy.”

“He’s hopeless.”

“Yeah well, hopeless is charming because there is no pressure to try and help. If you can’t do anything you might as well enjoy the ride. It would be nerve wracking if you had to drive the rollercoaster.”

“This is why he calls you a priest. You always have some aphorism to slap on the situation.”

“No, I call him that because he pours out the spirit unto his flock.” I held out my glass hoping he forgot about cutting me off.

“Leave Bel alone.” Rob finished his coke and left.

The priest relented and gave me half a dose. Justice thwarted by mercy is the supernatural way of things.

“It’s not exactly my cup runneth over but that always seemed a poor business practice anyway. Plus the mess.”

“Should I be worried about you. You’ve made a few statements that sound finalistic. They trained us to watch our for warning signs like that. You’re waving a lot of red flags.”

“It’s real. It’s actually going to happen. Tonight we find out if I was enough. If you stop me we are all doomed.”

The priest went back to polishing his glass. “I’m sorry I failed you.”

Self denial is a very important characteristic in a priest. I left the church to watch the sun set. It comes at night they say. That gave me hope. A predator who needs to hide is one with weakness. I can work with weakness. Weakness is my wheelhouse. I’m Mr. Weakness. They say that sometimes on the ocean as the sun sets you can see a green flash. This is when the line between the spirit world and the living one breaks for just a moment. It could also be the refraction of light going through the water as the sun dips behind the curvature of the earth. Or possible it’s an old pirate’s tale to get land lubbers to look directly into the sun so their night vision is impaired so they can be more easily robbed. Either way the ocean was too far away for me to see the flash that I’m sure happened.

I knew it would start at Sophie’s house. Sophie was the kind of child people said was too smart for her own good. She had no patience for people because she had yet to learn that other people had different lives and abilities than her. If she ever figured out other people she had a lot of opportunities ahead of her. It liked to go for the smart ones first. That’s why I needed to be the idiot. I had to prevail even if I was the last man standing. Good thing Sophie’s neighbors had a compost heap. It wouldn’t smell me there. I’d be nothing but grass to it. Better grass than cattle in this instance. The heap was soft and it was that time of year when they darkening of the days outpaced the timing on the street lamps. Like a bird with a blanked on its cage I passed out.

#

I can’t say how long I was out but the village was still dark when I woke up. The lights never turned on. A few houses had lights but the heavy smell of diesel generators told the story. It must really need the darkness. I quickly reviewed everything I knew about it. All of my information contradicted. How I learned about it must be kept absolutely secret so I invented most of my information to throw it off the trail. Now I couldn’t be sure what was real. My cover had to be so deep that I needed to keep even myself from knowing if it was even true. I hoped I hadn’t made it all up just to get out of adult responsibilities. Maybe I did really belong in that nice room Rob invited me to. The sound of someone trying to be quiet broke me from my revelry. The easiest way to be loud is to try to be quiet. It was walking down the street like it owned the place. Lovecraft lied to me. It didn’t look like some kind of multi-dimensional hyper-squid. If you didn’t know you’d think it was just some guy off on his own business. A stranger in an unfamiliar place experiencing a blackout doesn’t move like that. When someone is new to a place they have to look around. This is beyond curiosity, more like a hard coded orienting response. It was laser focused on Sophie’s house. Moving as straight as the terrain allowed. It stepped over rocks like it had artfully placed them there.

Have you ever looked into a shark’s eyes? They are different from indifferent fish eyes. They aren’t dolphin eyes which use expression for social communication. A shark’s eyes are knives, cutting through everything in their way. Its eyes sharked. It was time to act.

“Hey buddy, you seen twenty bucks lying around? I dropped it on this path a while back. That’s all I have for who knows when. I’m in real trouble this time.” I looked at the ground. Ignoring the fact that it was too dark to see my feet.

It stopped but didn’t turn to look at me. “I have nothing for you.”

“I’m not begging I just hoped you might have come across it.” I moved closer to it, ignoring the concept of social boundaries.

It started to walk again but I got in front of it. “Could you help me look for it? My night vision isn’t what it used to be. That’s what happens when you don’t eat enough carrots. Or if you’re a rabbit and you eat too much. Carrots give rabbits diabetes.”

“I don’t care about rabbits.” It changed course to get around me.

I moved to intercept. “Interesting creatures. I understand though. There’s never enough time to pursue pure intellectual pursuits.”

“I don’t have time for this.” It didn’t want to touch me but made an aggressive move toward me.

“Well yeah. Eventually entropy wins. By then we’ll be stardust in the wind so there’s no point in worrying about that.”

“Leave.” It’s laser focus on Sophie’s house wavered as it looked right at me.

I looked at the trees. “Yes, they are quite pretty this time of year. Such diversity. All at differing stages of decay. Some still as green as they were in spring. Some already as good as dirt. It’s a metaphor. But a meta for what?” I mirrored its tiny adjustments as it tried to get around me. I realized its mind worked like electricity. I needed a sure path before it could travel it. Maybe this was some form of alien/demon social code.

“I don’t want you.” A small tremor started in its hand. Its thoughts were traveling to its muscles.

“Woah there buddy. That’s not what I meant at all. I mean I’m flattered but that’s not my sort of thing.” I loosened my hand. I learned that move from an old gunslinger movie.

“This is your chance to escape.” Its hand raised.

“Well it’s been nice talking to you anyway. Put ‘er there pal.” Like a rattlesnake I launched my hand into its and clamped down. A slurp of air shot out of the suction cup organ on its palm and cemented us together.

And then we understood each other.

The law talks about a meeting of the minds. I’ve always assumed that much of the law was written by it. The maw of gaping terror my mind’s eye found itself flung into was just like that contract I never had time to read. This was crisis time. The time to make a choice. Easy as falling I could have let my soul be consumed. I might not have had a choice anyway. Success might not have been an option. How could I defeat something so incomprehensibly alien? I may have only been a dissappetizer leading into Sophie and Sue and Timmy and Belladonna and The Priest and Rob. SURRENDER. The word reverberated through my immensity. Whether that was it or deific inspiration or hallucination I knew that was the correct answer. The hungry take what they can get. Beggars can’t be choosers. I had to give myself freely to it in order to be accepted at the magnitude I needed it to. Hoping that I was awful enough I reached into my core where I kept all the loneliness, disappointment, rejection, pity, self-sabotage, and remorse and gave it freely.

Someone who always hurts grows a resistance to it. Their body’s defenses reinforce themselves constantly. This doesn’t mean the hurt goes away, just that you survive the hurt. Those uninitiated to hurt can’t fathom. It unraveled. Parts of its mind fled other parts. Fleeing from the infection that was me sent it in multiple directions. It amputated itself to suppress my spread. A creature of mind that can’t mind its mind ceases. I don’t think I am.

#

The village flashed before my eyes in a series of red and blue snapshots. I didn’t know the movie you see at death was a 3-D. I forgot my glasses. Then the walls of the canyon. I hadn’t realized they were so important to me. It was snowing. I never liked the cold. No nostalgia there. The walls receded and there was only darkness. So this was the end, not light but darkness. I was ready to allow myself but a building jumped out of the darkness. I had no memory of this building. Must have been new, built on the outskirts of the city. Ambulances have windows so you can distract yourself from what’s going on inside. Paramedics stabbing and unstabbing me trying to extract blood and instract non-blood. The hospital was a beacon in the dark world. They had to wait in a long line of ambulances. The doors opened and I sailed out. Smooth equipment. I understand why they call nurses angels.

“Where is this one from?” She looked at her clipboard, not me.

“Pendlerton this time.” He didn’t stop pushing me.

“What happened tonight?”

“I can’t worry about that now. We’ve got another call.”

“We won,” I tried to say but it came out badly.

A Pack Cracking Game

So I’ve been working on a pack opening game for my youtube channel which I have now quit. I was having trouble figuring out how to film it anyway. My explanation why I quit the youtubes is in the last post. I think this game has some feet. This isn’t meant to be something hyper competitive just some fun to have while you are cracking packs. It gives you the opportunity to play with cards you wouldn’t otherwise look twice at. It makes the moment of pulling an absolute bomb even better because you then have the memory of crushing your friend with it immediately. I think this could be adapted to any ccg without much trouble. I’m laying out my adaptations for Pokemon and Magic the Gathering because those are the two games I’m most familiar with. I’m sure more experienced players can refine these. Feel free to adapt to fit your personal circumstances.

Pack Opening Game:

Pokemon:
What you need: A sealed pack for each person. An ample supply of energy cards. Energy cards are considered to be limitless here. (I’ve tried it with a limited supply of energy and it ended up in a few dead games.)

You both open your pack. Don’t look at the cards. Randomize your deck. (As gently as possible. You never know when you’re going to pull that first edition base set Charizard!)

Lay out six random energy cards as prize cards. When you knock out your opponent’s pokemon remove that energy card. It does not go in your hand. (I’ve gone back and forth on this but I don’t like the idea of a win being an acceleration like this.)

You each draw one card. If that card is not a pokemon draw until you have a pokemon. Then shuffle the other cards back in your deck.

No evolving necessary. Each pokemon can be played as if they were a basic. Even if you have a legal evolution you can still play them as separate pokemon. Putting a stage one or a stage two pokemon on the bench or in active counts as evolving for card rules.

You may attach one basic energy card of any type from the supply to your pokemon each turn. If you draw an energy card from your pack that may be attached in addition to your one from the supply. You can only play one energy card from your hand and one from the supply each turn. You can’t ‘bank’ cards and put them in your hand from the supply instead of attaching. Energy cards in the supply are considered to be in your deck for card rule reasons. If the rule requires the energy to be in your hand or in the discard they must actually be there.

If a player has no pokemon on the board but still has cards in their deck then they are still in the game. If a player’s deck is empty but they still have pokemon on the board and there are still prize cards in play they do not lose. You only win if you have taken six prize cards or your opponent has an empty deck and an empty field.

And that’s it. The rest of the game goes like normal.

Magic:

You’ll need an ample supply of basic land cards set aside. (If you want to go nuts and include the fancy lands go nuts, I’m not your mom.) This supply is considered limitless. These cards are considered to be in your library for searching reasons. (Yes, if whatshername gives you all the land cards from your deck you can just have infinity mana.)

You each open your pack. Remove the token/ad card, but not the land. Randomize it without looking. (Ever so gently, you don’t want to scratch up that Black Lotus.) The starting hand size is one. If you really want to mulligan to zero you can. Same as the regular game whoever goes first doesn’t draw a card for turn. Each player may take a land card from the supply and put it onto the battlefield each turn. When they pull a land card from their pack they may put that land down in addition to the card from the supply. (Yes, this is very powerful.) When a card allows you search your library you may choose how many of those you want from your pack and how many you want from the supply. You may only play one land from your hand and one land from the supply each turn. (Unless a card overrules that.)

“Decking out” is not a lose condition. (But if it is a win condition then it still is.) When your library is out of cards you may put a land card from the supply into your hand. These games run fast so this usually won’t happen.

Start with 20 life total.

Play the game as normal.

Creative Outlets and Quitting

So I quit my youtube channel. I know what you’re going to say: “How could you quit?” “You had a youtube channel?” “Who is this person?” “What are you doing in my house?” Did that cover all the bases? Not really but good enough.

To answer why I quit I need to go back to why I started. A few years ago I quit my job. I quit because I was there to pay for school and I had graduated. I also quit because it was killing me. Well, I thought it was killing me. Turns out it was the diabeetus that was killing me, but I’ll get to that. I had intended to take a few months off. Have some fun, play some games, write a novel. I did plenty of that, except I didn’t get to the novel. Those couple of months turned into seven. I was applying to jobs but I would rarely get an interview. Things can get pretty depressing at that point. I was sitting there mulling over shoulda-wouldas as I Splatooned all day. I was pretty good at Splatoon as long as it wasn’t a snow day and the kids were home. It was at this time that I got addicted to watching youtube videos. You can get to some pretty weird places if you sit there all day with autoplay running. Now combine this with my love of trading cards. I love to open a diversity of packs. It kinda makes me happy when a tcg goes under because I can get a whole bunch of packs at low prices. Late 80s early 90s baseball card packs are great for this too. Of course the single occupation of my life has been Pokemon. Ever since I bought a second hand copy of Red that didn’t save I’ve been hooked on the critters. Pokemon cards aren’t cheap. This time off for me was Pokemon’s 20th anniversary and they were coming out with special boxes with 2 packs and a pin. I’m always a sucker for pins. When I visit Disneyland I always spend way too much money on pins. They’re like coins that don’t have instant monetary value. What’s not to like? They came out with a new box like this every month. Each featuring a different mythic Pokemon. I bought them all. They were my one indulgence as I ate my savings.

So anyway, in my dive into the youtube ocean I came across card opening videos. There were people making a living at this. They were at least making enough to cover the cost of the cards. I’ve always wanted to be an entertainer, not the kind who stands on the stage and has everyone look at me. I wanted to entertain people from the comfort of my own home. I wanted to be a writer. I am. I continue to write, and I am well on my way now to finishing that novel. This offered me a creative outlet. It gave me hope, or at least a fantasy, that I’d be able to work towards. It was something I could control. I couldn’t control who gave me a job interview.

It turns out I was just very bad at applying for jobs because my brain was dying of diabetes. This made me sleep all the time and gave me a voracious appetite for sugar. I would sit down to a nice snack of frosting. The whole can. Candy was half of my grocery bill. But I’m getting ahead of myself. After I started recording my pack openings it greatly improved my mood. Opening packs, sorting cards, seeing how much of a given set I could collect, these were all things that have always relaxed me and helped me thing through things. Performing for the camera helped open my mouth. It got me talking. I’ve never been good at talking. It just takes me too long to compose what I’m going to say for it to be pertinent to the conversation anymore. This is why I like writing. I can sit in careful thought and edit afterhand. As soon as you speak you are committed to having said it. I often say the wrong things. Talking to no one, and thus everyone, helped me to disperse this anxiety at least a little. I may have to go back to it if I start turtling again.

With the boost this channel gave me I was able to more clearly figure out what I should do. I went back to my old job. I had already distinguished myself there as a person to be depended upon. They knew me and knew I could do the job. I had planned to start taking classes again and maybe go in to teaching. I was planning on doing that anyway before my health crashed. I may still do that. I am at a crisis point right now. Crisis meaning point of decision. This is part of why I’m quitting youtube. This job is at the university and I get a tuition waiver. No student loans for me baby. School got really hard there at the end. I was just so done with the mechanical system of education. I just couldn’t get myself to care about writing a paper. Writing is my thing. It’s the thing I’m good at. It was so easy to churn out the simple pointless junk they wanted me to write. Because it was easy it was hard. Also my brain was tired all the time because I had diabetes, but I didn’t know that at the time.

This all came to a head last Christmas when I crashed into full blown ketosis and spent one day dying on the toilet and four days in intensive care. After that it was like being awake for the first time in a long time. Looking back on a giant pile of regrets and mistakes I didn’t know what to do. I could blame a lot of it on the disease, but plenty of it is because of the way I am. I’ve kinda lost confidence in myself at this point.

Before I started my youtube channel I had other non-stress creative outlets. I would make scrapbooks out of card boxes and dvd packaging. I would melt candles and pour them into jars to make weird sculpture type things I guess. Really I would do anything except actually write the stories that I should be and have always wanted to write. It’s important to have a creative outlet, just so long as you keep the main thing the main thing. (To paraphrase Covey.)

The youtube channel had become a stressful thing for me. I was buying every pokemon box I could get my hands on. I’ve spent way to much on them. I’ve also developed a cough from some nerve damage in my throat. It’s pretty hard to record videos when you cough a lot. Card opening videos are single take things. You can only crack a seal once. I was still doing it though. I wasn’t going to let a little throat tickle keep me down.

I’ve quit, with the caveat that I can still go back if I want to, because it stopped being fun. I couldn’t open cards whenever I felt like it. I had to wait for an opportune day which was usually right before work when I had to house to myself. I also had to have it be on a day when I was up to performing. That’s not every day. I have good days and bad days. (Both blood sugar wise and mental wise.) Ironically in the past I’ve saved cracking packs for bad days to get me feeling better. People don’t want to watch me feeling bad opening cards. (I have the analytics to prove this.) One day I got an Elite Trainer Box of Unbroken Bonds, the most recent set. I opened it off camera and got amazing pulls. Out of eight packs I got seven white codes. In Pokemon tcg to prevent pack weighing they have two kinds of codes. The green codes are the weight of a holographic and the white codes are the weight of a normal card. If it has a white code it means your rare slot is a holo or better. Of these seven white codes five of them were premium cards. In these boxes you usually get one, sometimes two premium cards. This was the best ETB I’ve ever opened and I felt bad because it would have made a great video. Read that again. I felt bad because I got really good pulls. That’s not how it should work. Still it took me a while to decide to quit. I’d find myself more and more opening packs off camera. It felt kinda naughty, like sneaking around the house in the middle of the night when you were a kid. There was a thrill to it.

What really made me decide was cleaning my room. My room was a disaster mainly because I spent years in a walking coma. It has taken me a long time of a clear mind and good blood sugar to decide to actually do something about it. I pulled everything out, there was a lot of stuff. Then I’m slowly putting everything back in. This gives me the ability to prioritize what I really want to keep. In a way cleaning your room is deciding who you want to be. Do I still want to be the kind of person who holds on to movie ticket stubs? Yes I do. Do I still want to collect Mr. Potato heads? Not really. I’ll have to decide how to ebay some stuff, give some stuff away, throw other stuff away, and how to better organize the stuff I want to keep. I still want to keep a lot of stuff. I’m a collector and I can be no other. I can understand and even envy minimalists but I can’t be them.

So in this I asked myself if I wanted to still be a youtuber (an odd breed of potato) and have a massive collection of sealed trading cards. I don’t. I have spent the last few weeks opening my collection. Slowly, but no where near as slowly as I was. I still catch myself now and then thinking, “hey this will make a good video.” You don’t work on a thing for three years without forming mental pathways toward that thing. I have an idea for a pack opening game that would be great. It might even be the thing that finally breaks my channel through the barrier. Not that anyone ever really watched my videos. After three years I had like 70 subscribers (which were almost entirely people wanting me to sub to them) and averaged 10 views a video (which were almost entirely me hitting play all on classroom computers at work that people didn’t log out of.) I did the videos for myself anyway. If people wanted to share in that that would have been great. But I was making the videos I wanted to make. I’ll probably work out the rules for the pack opening game and post them here. (Another dark place on the internet to drop my creative efforts for the google spiders to read.)

So I still need a low stress creative outlet. I know plenty of writers who paint wargaming minis. I don’t have the fine motor skills for that. That’s why I’m going to start blogging again. It’s been years and I don’t know if my old blog still exists so we’ll see where this lands but hopefully somewhere cool. There’s an old Harlan Ellison story titled I Have No Mouth And I Must Scream which I haven’t read but the title does enough to me. That’s kinda the point of the internet anyway.

Also for the curious here is my channel:

https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCeswV4E-NxYX3tqwm6TOLyw
I’m not planning on shutting it down or deleting anything I’m just walking away.

Monster Hunter Vendetta by Larry Correia

Word of the day: Sunk

Long Story Short: Owen hurt the feelings of an ineffable monster in another dimension.

As a general principle the second novel is more important than the first. Anyone can write an interesting book, given enough effort and time. The amount of people who a second interesting book is much smaller. (Of course Larry is far beyond this at this point.) If The Empire Strikes Back had been a flop we would not have Star Wars as a thing these days. Vendetta succeeds at this. Many of the writing bad habits that bothered me from the first book have been ironed out. (Although, Larry still used “Stated” for about a third of dialogue tags. Just one of my pet peeves.) The gun lingo has been dialed down but is still ever present. I’m not saying it’s a bad thing, every writer loves their own expertise a little more than their readers. I do remember a time or two where I felt I was missing something by not know what the gun a particular character pulled out looked like.
Pacing is less breakneck than the first book. It was nice to have time to puzzle out the mystery before revelation.
Vendetta isn’t shy about hitting the emotion button.

Last Word: Smile.

Monster Hunter International

Word of the day: Shoot.

Long Story Short: A guy who likes to shoot gets to shoot monsters.

One of the all time great opening lines. The language is rough, this was Larry’s first published book. I recommend people start with either Hard Magic or Son of the Black Sword if you want to see what Larry Correia is all about. But really, you read Correia for the action. Some of the best action scenes I’ve read. This is really heavy in gun terminology I hear that he backs off on that in the later books as he is aiming for a wider audience. (Scatter damage is better against

I read this in the Monster Hunters Omnibus so I didn’t know when the end was coming. As things were ratcheting up near the end I kept finding myself going, “Okay, this is it he can’t get bigger than this.” and kept being wrong. I’m not sure if I can recommend this because the book is heavy, it makes it harder to smuggle into work.

There is a slight language advisory, Larry swears like a dairy farmer, but there isn’t too much in this book. (Although it was more than his other worlds.)

Last Word: Pitt.

True Talents

True Talents by David Lubar

Long story short: The consequences of having psychic powers starts to hit the group.

This is a different animal from Hidden Talents. We get the POV of various characters and the stakes are much higher. It is less focused because of this but Lubar manages to tie all the threads together. My favorite part of this book is that the boys have ambition, well most of them. They are working toward a goal, they have a plan.

The great thing about the Talents series (of which I hope we get another book so we can figure out what this “pattern” stuff is all about) is how lowkey it is about the powers. They aren’t flying around saving the world. They are just kids trying to figure crap out.

Major Bowdler is an interesting character, he’s motivated by pride but thinks he is teaching people lessons. From all I’ve read of Lubar his major project is exploration of pride. (Even the gameboy Frogger Adventures he wrote for.)

Trigun #1

Long story short: On a inhospitable planet colonized by humans, the force of nature known as Vash The Stampede tries to save everyone who is trying to kill him, while being pursued by two intrepid insurance adjusters.

I luckily found this and volume 2 at a thrift store. There was also a whole shelf of Narutos, but Naruto is kinda the point of no return. (Don’t worry I looked away for a second and the Narutos had disappeared, they are off running at a tilt somewhere.) I’m not sure if I would have picked it up had I not already seen the animation. Sometimes it’s hard to tell what’s going on, if the pacing were pulled back a little I think it would have worked better.

One interesting thing here is that they reveal the nature of Vash and the Plants much earlier than in the show. This is a good thing I think. My position is that if you have a cool idea it’s always better to give your readers that cool idea as soon as possible. Nothing is more annoying than a story chanting, “I’ve got a secret.”

Anyway, depending on your tolerance of manga this is a great one.

The 2017 Vernon Awards

Well it’s award season. Everyone is quibbling about snubs and erroneous nominations. People are predicting winners and exhibiting their knowledge of the state of the arts. Frankly it is fun, but it can be nerve wrecking if you take it too seriously. There are even people arguing about which award is best. Is it the Oscars or the Golden Globes? Is it the Hugo or the Dragon? TO quote Linkin Park, “In the end it doesn’t even matter.” The true answer is that there is only one award that matters, the ‘what you personally like award’. That’s too long to put on a trophy (they charge by the letter.) so I shortened it to the Vernon Awards. Eligibility depends not on publication date but on when Vernon personally experienced the art. Categories will vary depending on mood and what I remember. (Also whether or not I do this next year depends on if I remember it exists.)

So here I present the 2017 Vernon Awards (which I won’t print trophies for unless the creator begs me.)

Best Book: Unforgettable by Eric James Stone

No one remembers this dude so he decided to be a super cool spy. If you can’t handle quantum mechanics = magic this one might not be for you. I think most people can accept the big lie for the sake of entertainment. Unforgettable does great work avoiding the little lies so it works.

Best Movie: The Little Prince

This movie is filled with so many things that make me happy. It is my soul made art. It is a Netflix exclusive in the U.S.

Best Youtube Video: Here Comes a Thought

I found myself ending every youtube session with this one. It is one of the few moments of peace to be found in this world. (I don’t really know much about the cartoon it came from.)

Best Lego Set: Super Heroes Super Hero Airport Battle 76051

You can’t beat Gi-Ant man. (Even if he does have a hard time not bending over. I need to figure out how to add some friction to his hip joints.)

Best MegaBloks set: TMNT Krang’s Rampage

Not only is this based on my childhood cartoon, but the turtles have metal shells and Krang is just perfect. (Young me likes this very much.)

Best Album: Strings of Determination

This is music from a game I haven’t played but the music is perfect for productivity.

Best TV series: Phineas and Ferb.

This show ended in 2015, but they didn’t post on Netflix til 2016 so it counts. P&F is the ultimate anthem for going out and doing things. Top notch writing and solid animation, plus beautiful music.

Best Skylander: Jingle Bells Chompy Mage.

Gotta love Chompy Mage, he cares only for the smallest and most defenseless of creatures. (Who are absolutely deadly in large numbers.) He has been one of the most entertaining boss battles in previous Skylanders games. Now he is Santa Claus.

Best Grumpy Cat Picture:

I’d say presented without comment, but this is a comment so . . .

Best Pokemon: Alolan Muk.

I named him Disco Stu. He is the anchor of my team in Sun.

Best Video Game: Splatoon

This is the only competetive online game I have ever been good enough at for it to be fun. (Unless there is a snow day for most of the US. Then I can’t even get off the spawn point without getting splatted.)

Best Worst Youtube Video: https://youtu.be/ayq41-UJ7Cg

I mean just look at this net!

Best Webcomic: Kiwi Blitz

This was a tough category and I think I graded the heavy hitters too harshly. But Blitz is a plucky comic that has kept going through all sorts of adversity. By that I mean the creator Mary Cagle has kept going on it even though she has had all sorts of other things going on. Most comics like this end as the creators find the need to do other things. Blitz is a labor of love and it shows.

Best Me: Vernon.

If there was another person eligible in this category I’d like to meet them.