"If you are the healer, it means I'm broken and lame."
It's cloudy and there are snow showers on the way. I welcome them. I need the snow to smooth away the razor edges and hide the ugliness from my eyes. Currently, it's only 41˚F.
Today is the National Transgender Day of Remembrance, but I'm not sure what that means in Trump's America.
Only, it's not really Trump's America, is it? Currently, Hillary Clinton holds a lead in the popular vote of about 1.7 million, and millions of votes are yet to me counted. More than half the electorate, for whatever reasons, didn't vote. That means that less than one quarter of Americans voted for the son of a bitch. So, no, it's not Trump's America, not at all, but he will be our president. The deplorable minority are having their moment in the sun, but they are the minority, and they must be reminded of that every moment of every goddamn day until this nightmare is over.
Yesterday, I proofread the new story, which went from being "Untitled 40" to "The Line Between the Devil's Teeth (Murder Ballad No. 10)," and thank you Peter Murphy. I wrote the prolegomenon. I laid the issue out. I sent it away to Gordon to be PDF'd, and this morning Spooky sent #130 out to subscribers. By the way, Gordon Duke has done PDF conversion on every single issue of the Digest since #0, all the way back in November 2005. He's the publication's unsung hero. Anyway, I hope you enjoy "The Line Between the Devil's Teeth (Murder Ballad No. 10)," as I think it might be the best thing I've written this year - unless I'm wrong and "Whisper Road (Murder Ballad No. 9)" is the best.
Today, one-hundred percent of my creative energy is redirected to the business of writing the Next New Novel.
Last night, we watch John Landis' The Blues Brothers (1980), which I'd not seen in ages. In June 1980, The Blues Brothers was just about the coolest thing my sixteen-year-old self had ever seen. Thirty-six years later, it still rocks my socks.
TTFN,
Aunt Beast
Today is the National Transgender Day of Remembrance, but I'm not sure what that means in Trump's America.
Only, it's not really Trump's America, is it? Currently, Hillary Clinton holds a lead in the popular vote of about 1.7 million, and millions of votes are yet to me counted. More than half the electorate, for whatever reasons, didn't vote. That means that less than one quarter of Americans voted for the son of a bitch. So, no, it's not Trump's America, not at all, but he will be our president. The deplorable minority are having their moment in the sun, but they are the minority, and they must be reminded of that every moment of every goddamn day until this nightmare is over.
Yesterday, I proofread the new story, which went from being "Untitled 40" to "The Line Between the Devil's Teeth (Murder Ballad No. 10)," and thank you Peter Murphy. I wrote the prolegomenon. I laid the issue out. I sent it away to Gordon to be PDF'd, and this morning Spooky sent #130 out to subscribers. By the way, Gordon Duke has done PDF conversion on every single issue of the Digest since #0, all the way back in November 2005. He's the publication's unsung hero. Anyway, I hope you enjoy "The Line Between the Devil's Teeth (Murder Ballad No. 10)," as I think it might be the best thing I've written this year - unless I'm wrong and "Whisper Road (Murder Ballad No. 9)" is the best.
Today, one-hundred percent of my creative energy is redirected to the business of writing the Next New Novel.
Last night, we watch John Landis' The Blues Brothers (1980), which I'd not seen in ages. In June 1980, The Blues Brothers was just about the coolest thing my sixteen-year-old self had ever seen. Thirty-six years later, it still rocks my socks.
TTFN,
Aunt Beast