Columnated Ruins Domino

Somebody’s joy is full, and he looks a lot like me.

Finally, the big day is here. Moving into our new condo tomorrow. Up to our throats in boxes, but it will soon be done. While packing and going through old boxes stuffed with papers,  I stumbled upon a treasure trove of juvenalia that I will be posting over the next few weeks: truly atrocious poems I wrote in college, some cool poems I wrote in college, a poem I wrote in high school to woo Sara, and sundry other things to take up space whilst I unpacketh.

Worker 1: Where do you want to go to lunch?
Worker 2: Susan’s Deli Of Course
Worker 1: Of course? Wow, you are really certain of where you want to eat.
Worker 2: No! That’s the name. Susan’s Deli Of Course
Worker 1: Oh. My. God. That is so funny.
Worker 2: I know! Isn’t it so funny?
Worker 1: It is. Susan’s Deli Of Course. I can’t believe they called it that.
Worker 2: They did! That’s the name.
Worker 1: Funny!
Worker 2: I know. Isn’t it?
Worker 1: I thought you were saying “of course” to imply certainty, but you were just saying the name of the place.
Worker 2: I know! That’s the real name!
Worker 1: Wow, that is something. Really something. Susan’s Deli Of Course.
Worker 2: Of Course is on the sign!
Worker 1: I think I just peed myself with joy.
Worker 2: Of course you did.

This guy.

SF writer and blogger extraordinaire John Scalzi had a contest on his blog Whatever to win an advance copy of his new book Zoe’s Tale (which is set in the universe of his phenomenal Old Man’s War.)

We were tasked with revealing what really happened on August 19, 1994.

I sent two entries and was one of the runner-ups. I won a signed book, so my joy is full. (I got a signed book by Simon Winchester yesterday, so this is the week of people writing on my books. I’m going to see Neil Gaiman speak at M.I.T. on Friday, but I don’t think he is signing any books. I’ll just dream that he did.)

You could call them flash fiction if you want. Microfictions, perhaps. Teensy weensy short stories. Three Sentences in Search of an Author. Hell, you can call them tuna fish sandwiches if it gets you through the day.

Here they are:

Ah, that was the day that, in a fit of pique, Jonas the Alphabet Man struck the letter “K” from our racial memory. He giggled like a schoolgirl for a few minutes. Then he put it back.

That morning my son held his breath and stomped around because we wouldn’t buy him a pony. We tried to get him to breathe, but he was stubborn, just like his dear old dad.
We buried him a few days later.
Then we bought a pony.

(If you feel compelled to tattoo them onto your living flesh, feel free. Creative Commons and self mutilation go hand in hand in my book.)

My beloved Sara is a bitch. A Wine Bitch, that is. Check out her oenophilic posts at the new Culture Bitch blog! The website is still being built, but the blog is up. Go get your drink on!

Rumor has it I will be a Book Bastard, too.

Gus took the Beer Bastard, the bastard.

My short story “The Ship” (which first appeared in Interzone) can be read for free here.

If you voted for George W. Bush you are not allowed to read it.

I’ve haven’t been doing much writing lately.

Been busy packing up myriad boxes of books. I donated about 10 boxes of books that have been lingering in the basement for the last 4 years, and books I just know I will never get around to reading. I have about another 50-60 boxes to be packed and moved by the movers. Moving in a little more than a month.

Wrote 125-word flash story called “Epitaph” and submitted it today for a very cool intertubes project. Fingers crossed.

I’m working on a 20,000-word novella for another hush-hush project that is coming up.

Finished another 15,000 words on my Krakatoa novel.

I finally picked up Junot Diaz’s The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao. It is phenomenal. Anyone that can riff on Jack Kirby, D&D, and hot chicas is OK in my book. The writing is the kind of good that, as a writer, makes you a little angry, but in a good way. I highly recommend it.