Friday, April 30, 2004

Midnight Train to Georgia

It's been a while since I posted anything from my b-fantasy epic DOOMED SWORD RISING, so since my butt's still sore and I'm irritable I'll just post this next part, featuring an alien, of all things:

Esme, now looking more her radiant self, plucks a brush from her table and begins stroking her hair, smiling contentedly.
A gentle RAP comes on the door.
Boris does so, and immediately falls to bended knee.
My lady.
That bloodied mail does not bespeak success.
The queen looks upon Boris coolly.
Rise, sir knight.
Boris does so.
My lady, more bad news. My entire command was slain at the hands of dire creatures in a haunted wood.
Dire creatures? The men I sent with you were not milkmaids.
As you say.
Sir Boris, not that many years ago I sent you against the sea-pirates raiding our coast, and you acquitted yourself well. Now I ask you to bring back a girl and a corpse, and you fail me.
The times...are different, my queen.
Oh, the times are different? Mayhaps it is the man. The headsman's blade is sharp, Sir Boris.
I saw that for myself just now. I prefer the chance to die in combat, my lady.
Then I will give you that chance.
Our friends from across the sea of stars can raise another army. One you will have trouble leading to their deaths.
Raise? From where, good queen?
Fear not, my captain. They will be people from our own soil.
Boris' eyes shoot sideways as he ponders what this might mean. But he comes back quickly.
Mayhaps there is some good news. Though the trail has taken many twists and turns, I believe it may ultimately lead back here.
Castle Ebon?
For the first time, Esme seems less sure.
I buried my son far from here for a reason, Sir Boris. I do not want him returning.
I know well, fair Queen. I turned the spade on that pauper's grave with my own hand.
There seems a note of question in your tone, Sir Boris. You would do well to remember the creedo of your own knights..."Deeds, not Words."
Boris inclines his head and lowers his eyes.
Indeed. By your leave, m'lady.
Boris turns to leave, and Esme calls out.
Sir Boris. I do not want the prince returning to the castle. You must cross swords with this lady monk outside the tower's long shadow.
Boris goes out without another word. When her chamber door slams shut, Esme suddenly appears more tired, more uncertain.
From behind the curtained doorway behind her comes the spillage of red light, and then a grating, hollow, alien voice, as cold as night.
Esme turns, and looks at someone--or something--out of sight.
He was my son.
Your seed is but dust. Your body is a husk. The peoples who walk this earth are but memory. Only when you understand this can you travel to our home, across the sea of stars.
I...I am trying to understand.
You will. The ring called me, and I came. Now come to me, my Esme.
Esme steps forward, and allows her robe to fall from bare shoulders. There is a WET SLICK NOISE, and then a grasping tentacle slides under the curtain and gropes toward Esme.
The tentacle, trailing slime, strokes her leg like a tender lover.
A second tentacle emerges. This one sports a large white bone, like a fang, or a stinger.
Esme begins to MOAN with anticipation. Her ring GLOWS with unnatural fire.
Suddenly the tentacle whips around with an incredible force, and plants itself in the back of her neck.
Esme's eyes bulge; then she relaxes.
A trickle of blood makes it way down her firm back. Her MOANS OF PLEASURE become louder.
I will gather an army for you, my queen...I will call my servants from across the land...we will unite this plane with steel and fire...

Give me a yell at

Thursday, April 29, 2004

Hammer and Nail

I didn't write yesterday because my butt hurt.

When I was taking down the backyard fence this weekend, a large rusty nail nipped at my hip, but despite the blood and torn jeans I decided it didn't dig in too far. Though later common sense got the best of me and off I went to get a tetanus update, right in the left cheek.

On an upbeat note, the new Dark Horse Conan comic is really, really good.

Someone found my blog by, unbelievably, typing in "water ride pictures swimsuit."

I've been talking and emailing with the Polonia Brothers on a new potential project that is sure to raise a few eyebrows in the microcinema community if it ends up taking off.

Here's a funny "Geek Test" if you like this kind of thing. I only came it at 27%, surprisingly enough. But I had some friends clock in from 45-55%, which prompted by daughter to note that if you hang with nerds, you are a nerd.

Give me a shout at

Tuesday, April 27, 2004

Maggie's Farm

My Bigfoot epic AMONG US, penned by me and directed by the Polonia Brothers, hits the streets today; please give me a yell if you see it anywhere.

For those of you who missed what happened to me on the set, like how my script got burned in a bonfire or where we saw the snakes or how I ended up in a Bigfoot suit, click here to read all about my adventures, courtesy of my pals at

For those of you keeping track, I decided in the year 2000 to start to devote more time to freelancing. Almost four years later--that's right, FOUR YEARS--my first screenplay to hit the shelves debuts. What a long, strange trip it's been. And, one hopes, it isn't over yet.

Give me a holler at

Monday, April 26, 2004

Hungry Like the Wolf

I wanted to do "24 Hour Comics Day" on Saturday, but real life intervened as usual, and I spent about nine hours taking sledgehammer and shovel to my backyard fence, at the state of collapse after the winter and recent storms.

Some D&D humor: We were trying to dig out the fenceposts, most of which were sunk in big bulbs of cement, when my son got frustrated and just grabbed one and started pulling, yanking it out of the earth with a big ball of concrete still stuck on the end. "I must have rolled a natural 20," he said.

I didn't feel too bad that night, but the next morning I was creaking and sore. I hadn't felt that old in a long time. I was kind of limping around, feeling sorry for myself, and wondering what I have to contribute to the larger world. Don't open your mouth when you're refilling the water softener. That's about all I know for sure.

Here's more from my meme exchange with the guy at The Machineries of Joe:

I liked DP-7 and STAR BRAND, especially.

JOE: Hmm, that stinks then. Which one did Quasar make a guest appearance in?
I think that no matter what book it is, it needs to be renamed, the titles on these books all suck. Kickers Inc, Star Brand and Spitfire and the Troubleshooters sound like they should be competeing against Gem and the Holograms and The Misfits in the battle of the bands. DP7 sounds like a porn movie
I guess I'll go with the least crappy sounding title, Marc Hazzard: Merc. The local used book store has a ton of New Universe books for a quarter each. Maybe I should flip through them and see what looks best.

ME: Ironically, I believe MARK HAZZARD: MERC was first written by Peter David.

You can go here and see what I asked this guy.

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Friday, April 23, 2004

One of a Kind (Love Affair)

Here's a list of questions from the blog meme phenom, with answers from the top of my head:

1. Name one song you hate to admit you like.

"Cracklin' Rosie" by Neil Diamond

2. Name two songs that always make you cry.

"Operator" by Jim Croce, and "Telephone Line" by ELO

3. Name three songs that turn you on.

"Let's Stay Together," Al Green; "Can't Get Enough of Your Love, Babe," Barry White; and "Let's Get It On," Marvin Gaye.

4. Name four songs that always make you feel good.

"Tell Me Something Good," Rufus; "Mercy Mercy Me (The Ecology)," Marvin Gaye; "You're the First, the Last, My Everything," Barry White; and "Oh Girl," The

5. Name five songs you couldn't ever do without.

"Daddy Sang Bass," Johnny Cash; "Rocky Mountain High," John Denver; "Driver's Seat," Sniff N The Tears; "Ain't No Sunshine," Bill Withers; "They Just Can't Stop It (The Games People Play)," The Spinners

Give me a shout at

Thursday, April 22, 2004

Two Triple Cheese, Side Order of Fries

Here's how the guy at The Machineries of Joe answered my three questions:

1. Should I give John Byrne's DOOM PATROL reboot a chance?

2. If you had/got to relaunch a Marvel New Universe title, which would you choose?

3. What, in your opinion, is the most underrated comic book out there today?

1. Only if you're a child molester or feel that you need to repent for some serious crime.

2. Strikeforce Mortiuarieiaara or whatever it was called. It sounded like a good concept.

3. Savage Dragon.


I liked DP-7 and STAR BRAND, especially.

Feel free to shoot three questions at me at

And, for all my pals at MicroCinemaFest, here's the latest press release:


Attention low-to-no budget moviemakers! The Fourth Annual Microcinema Fest has released an official call for entries. Formally known as the REwind International Media Festival, this year's event is again held in beautiful Rapid City, South Dakota July 5-12, 2004.

Short subject and feature length movies submitted will be eligible for exhibition on two screen at the Elks Theater in downtown Rapid City, as well as juried competition for cash prizes in the following categories: DRAMA, COMEDY, SCI-FI/HORROR, ACTION/ADVENTURE, FAN-FILM, DOCUMENTARY This year, the grand prize awarded to the best feature-length movie will be a Panasonic AGDVX-100, the three-chip digital video camera that has revolutionized shooting on shoestring budgets.

Entry Fees:
Features: (movies longer than 45 minutes) $10 each
Shorts: (movies up to 45 minutes long) $5 each Submission Form:
Submission Form (Adobe Acrobat)
Submission Form (Rich Text Format)

Bundle together your completed Submission Form, your check or money order and your submission itself in a CLEARLY ADDRESSED and well sealed envelope.
Mail to:

Microcinema Fest Submissions
c/o Linn Productions
1222 Oregon Street
Rapid City, SD 57701
Submission Deadline:
Friday, May 14, 2004

A cooperative effort between three major Microcinema news and review sites, several independent film and video production companies and the State Film Commission of South Dakota, Microcinema Fest combines low festival submission fees, deals on accommodations, networking forums and three nights of screenings in two theaters. It is a weeklong event hosted by people who make movies for people who make movies and a celebration of the art of moviemaking with little-to-no money.

I'm definitely going, and hoping to meet some of my pals there.

Wednesday, April 21, 2004

Video Killed the Radio Star

Here's an odd new meme I ran across from a blog called The Machineries of Joe. The guy mostly writes about comics, but got asked plenty of other stuff (although I tried to be nice and only ask about comics).

Attention loyal subjects!
I want everyone who reads this to ask me 3 questions, no more no less. Ask me anything you want. Then I want you to go to your journal, copy and paste this allowing your friends (including myself) to ask you anything.

You can find out what I asked him by following the link.

Feel free to fire away back at me at

Tuesday, April 20, 2004


Looks like I may be working up a new project with the Polonia Brothers; more to come later.

For those of you keeping track, and for the legions who aren't, my Bigfoot epic AMONG US comes out a week from today. Roasting reviews to follow.

Since I'm short on time, I'll post a bit more from RING OF THE SORCERESS today:

Esme is seated at a table, being tended by serving girls. She looks worn and bored.
I am tired. Bid thee gone.
The servants all bow and scrape away. Then Esme gestures to one gentle, curvy blonde.
Save you. I require an errand.
As the queen wishes.
The others are gone in a split-second. The servant looks at her nervously, licking her lips.
Esme gives the servant a long look up and down.
I remember you as a kitchen scamp. You have grown into a fine serving-girl. Only the finest may serve at the Queen's hand.
That is known.
Pray thee, who has taken your maidenhood?
The servant looks aghast.
Why, no one, my queen.
No one? Not one of our honorable knights, or one of the randy stable-boys? I believe it not.
I cannot lie to the queen.
Esme smiles smugly.
As it should be.
My hair needs brushing.
Esme twists a long, gray strand out of locks and twirls it on a finger.
The servant obediently moves toward the queen's dressing-table. Esme gestures abruptly.
Not that brush. I believe I left my favorite in the catacombs. Fetch it there.
The servant girl hesitates.
Surely not the catacombs?
Why...I have heard other girls have gone down there lately, and not come back...
Surely kitchen talk! It is no different than the wine cellar. And there is even an entrance beyond yon curtain.
She gestures. After a long, uneasy moment, the girl nods her head and passes through.
Esme looks at her ring, the stone now dulled. It starts to GLOW with a feeble light.
Yes. Yessssssss....
The servant girl creeps down the stairs and looks around uneasily. After a long moment, she edges forward.
Suddenly, a tentacle whips out from the darkness and slashes at her flimsy gown. She tries to clasp it together and run back up the stairs.
But the tentacle grabs her ankle and pulls her down. A strange, echoing VOICE bounces off the walls.
Tender maiden...come to my embrace...
Esme is staring off into space, a grim smile on her face.
The servant girl SCREAMS as she is mauled by the tentacles.
Esme's eyes glow an alien red, as does the stone in the ring. She looks at her former gray lock, now turned golden again.
Oh yessssssssssss..........
The serving girl, done struggling, is dragged off into the darkness. Her bare feet scrape the floor.

Give me a yell at

Monday, April 19, 2004

Raspberry Beret

I finished up my rewrite of Christopher Sharpe's SEX MACHINE about a month ago and have been lying low since then, trying to deal with the fire raining down from the heavens that has been my day-to-day life lately. But I was just approached about a potential writing job today, an unusual project (to say the least), so I will post all the news here if it becomes a sure thing. If anything ever is a sure thing.

I enjoyed HELLBOY well enough this weekend, a very faithful adaptation of the comic, although it seemed mostly sound and fury and didn't stick in my mind for even a split second after. More compelling were the bizarre trailers--one a perv's delight, where a 13-year-old girl suddenly becomes the legal Jennifer Gardner; one a Wayans Brothers comedy where they go undercover as white girls (?!); and another called SOUL PLANE which has Snoop Dogg flying some sort of low-riding jet around. Not comedy skits on SNL, but actual movies.

Meanwhile, here's more of the pot calling the kettle black, from my b-fantasy epic RING OF THE SORCERESS:

Desmond reads from a scroll of parchment, as a burly black-hooded EXECUTIONER shouldering a heavy two-bladed axe looms menacingly in the background.
Sir Randall Fortinbras, Lord of Castle Andronicus and former member of the Council of Seven, for treasonous actions against the good Queen Esme of House Hangfyr, you have been sentenced to death by decapitation. Proceed with the sentence.
FORTINBRAS shouts and protests as his head is pushed onto the already gore-spattered block. In a moment, a wet THWACK silences his protests.
A line of well-dressed older men are lined up, under heavy guard, and looking on with dismay.
Sir Alonzo Pollux, High Commander of Seawatch and former member of the Council of Seven...
Desmond continues on as a battered and bloodied Boris limps up and looks on the proceedings with amazement. Another bloody THWACK causes him to grab the elbow of a regal but dejected older man at the end of the line. The older man looks at Boris with dread.
Sir Boris? Surely not you too!
Good Sir Malvolio, can this truly be happening? I see before me the Queen's best minds being put to steel!
Tis true. The Council of Seven is no more.
I know better than to call this group traitors! Most every man here served Queen Hannah, Esme's mother, with honor and loyalty, and have continued to this day!
Queen Esme has a new council. It is made up of the men from beyond the sea.
Boris stops short.
This sea of stars?
Beyond the sea, beyond any map. And when voices were raised questioning this decision, they were quelled by the blade.
Desmond, now more puffed up since his first encounter with Boris outside the Queen's chambers, shoulders his way between the pair.
This is not your concern, Sir Boris. This is the work of the Queen.
I believed that I did the work of the Queen.
Mayhaps that has changed. Stand aside.
Boris gives the little man a long cool look, then takes a half-step back, watching through narrowed eyes. The aide goes back to the front of the line and begins reading more charges.
Malvolio takes a furtive glance over his shoulder.
You must be the Council's voice, Sir Boris.
How can that be?
You are greatly favored by the Queen. You were the youngest soldier ever raised to the post of Captain of the Silent Guard. Your father Sir Nicholai served the Guard with honor before you.
Malvolio is rudely jerked away.
(calls out)
Speak for us, Boris! For the Kingdom!
The aide unrolls another parchment.
Sir Malvolio Timon, Lord of Longshadow Wood and former member of the Council of Seven,for treasonous actions against the good Queen Esme of House Hangfyr, you have been sentenced to death by decapitation. Proceed with the sentence....
As the aide drones on, Boris turns his head. At the ruthless SMACK of the headsman's axe, Boris turns his back in disgust and limps away.

Give me a shout at

Friday, April 16, 2004

Back in the USSR

I want to give a shout-out to my brother Eric, as today is his birthday. He is always egging me on to write more, get stuff out there, get the wheels turning. Everybody needs such a brother.

My wife is quite the muse also, so I've got it from both barrels and thus have no excuses.

Tomorrow my brother and I will go to the movies with a couple of pals and maybe do some gaming or go shoot pool or something, then have pizza that night. Guy's day out. Meanwhile, my daughter, her mom, and both her grandmas will be out prom dress shopping, which I am not invited to as I would keep steering the car towards the convent.

Finally, the return of my pals at, the blogosphere phenom.

1. What do you do for a living?

See the top of the site. I am a fiber-optics network manager for a 400-room video distribution system at a midwestern college, with responsibilities for electronic classrooms and videoconferencing. I teach scriptwriting and video production part-time in the Department of Telecommunications at Ball State University, my alma mater. I freelance scriptwrite at night.

2. What do you like most about your job?

Feeling like I contribute to education, which is important to me.

3. What do you like least about your job?

People lacking in common courtesy.

4. When you have a bad day at work it's usually because _____...

Massive power failures.

5. What other career(s) are you interested in?

Teaching, full-time scriptwriting, going back into video/broadcast production, librarian.

Give me a yell at

Thursday, April 15, 2004

Piece of My Heart

A day playing catch-up, so here's a bit more from RING OF THE SORCERESS. Yes, the witch is named after the Pink Floyd song:

Peryl and Shadow look at Cymballine with concern as she casts her powers forth. The glowing crystal ball draws Shadow's attention away. He tugs at Peryl.
Peryl, look.
The two peer into the crystal ball, and see the giant creature gnawing on another of the Silent Guard. Then Boris hews at the lizard's soft belly once more.
Suddenly, Cymballine CRIES OUT. The pair turn and stare.
Cymballine pulls her hands away from her midsection and finds them covered in blood. She grits her teeth and concentrates harder.
The giant lizard lifts a scaled foot.
From the creature's POV, the foot accelerates down and crushes the life out of a ROARING guardsman.
Suddenly, Boris is alone. He sets his jaw grimly and retreats, knowing he will live to fight another day.
Cymballine sits down abruptly in a chair, the air expelling from her lungs. Peryl approaches carefully.
I have some healing skills.
I'll use my own resources, thank you. I am still living, after all, and I care not to be a shambling bride to this one.
She gives Shadow a significant look. She reaches for some potions and herbs on a nearby table, her hands shaking.
My own powers lie in the eddies and whirlpools of time past and present...and as has been said, time heals all wounds.
Cymballine takes several long swallows from a crystal flask, then parts the front of her shredded dress.
Shadow and Peryl see the raw sword-gash heal before their eyes, leaving Cymballine's smooth belly.
Cymballine BELCHES.
Now then. Night is coming, and the wood is cold. Sleep here, and resume your sojourn on the morn.
Peryl looks uneasy.
Not to worry. You won't fit in my cookstove, it's only big enough for the village children.
Why are you helping us?
Cymballine looks thoughtful.
I have walked this planet for over one hundred years. My command over the sands of time has kept me young. But I am still human.
Unlike those who your unruly Queen would keep counsel with.
Is that so unlike yourself?
Witches, zombies, vampires...all reflections of humankind, in smoked glass. But these are...other. And I care not for how they toy with this world.
Peryl and Shadow look confused. Cymballine shrugs airily.
Or mayhaps Queen Esme once stole a boy from me, or her horse shat on the trail before me. Who's to say?
No matter the reason, we thank thee.
No thanks needed...the war is yet won.
Cymballine strokes her crystal ball and gazes at it intently.

Give me a yell at

Wednesday, April 14, 2004

The Ballad of John and Yoko

Been sick lately, but thankfully my pal Doug Wilkinson left a big stack of comics here over Easter, which has helped over the rough patches.

Unfortunately I noted that a guy named Steve Berry has written a novel called THE AMBER ROOM which closely parallels in theme a radio play I wrote about ten years ago for local radio station WBST also called THE AMBER ROOM about the lost Russian treasure called--you guessed it--The Amber Room. Well, damn. Time to put my foil-lined baseball hat again.

My wife made a really good asparagus and leek soup which gave me the strength to type only this much and watch AMERICAN IDOL, then go softly into that dark night.

Give me a yell at

Monday, April 12, 2004

Closer To Fine

Two weeks ago today I slit the ball of my thumb slicing a bagel and bled like a shemp on a Sam Raimi movie. And things have been downhill ever since. The cut hasn't quite healed yet, and when it does I hope my luck goes back the other way.

That being said, my old cable access pal Doug Wilkinson brought me a huge stack of comics this weekend, a paper bag full, always good to lift one's spirits. Nice surprise: Marvel's "What If"-flavored EXILES. Still not that great: Image's WILDGUARD.

Snagged THE OFFICE from, and it's one of the funniest, most painful British comedies I've seen.

I've been trying to stay home sick for a couple of days but forces keep massing against me. Speaking of which, here's a bit more from my b-fantasy opus RING OF THE SORCERESS, and a savage battle with gratuity and a stop-motion monster:

Boris is addressing a group of huddled VILLAGERS. He turns a gold coin in his fingers.
So none of you know the trail through yon wood? The queen's gold for any man among you who can lead us through the wood...
The villagers remain silent.
Would there be any fighting, it would be done by the Silent would only be asked to show the trail, as this wood is dark and our time grows short.
So you would fear insubstantial ghosts over possessing this real gold? This coin alone is more than you have seen in your lifetimes, and there's a bag more besides.
Boris looks the wide-eyed group over.
Is there none here loyal to the queen? I should put the lot of you to the sword.
Boris looks again, his eyes narrowed.
Wasn't there a woman among you?
One humble VILLAGER steps forward.
Please, sir knight...some of your--um--men took her off beyond those trees.
She is my sister, sir knight.
What's this?
Boris looks over his shoulder, his face a mixture of rage and disgust. Then he makes for the trees.
Boris comes up on three of his "guards" savaging a young female VILLAGER.
Suddenly, Boris' sword begins to come from its sheath. A fourth GUARD bares his teeth at Boris and stands in his way. Boris sheathes his blade and slams the monster aside.
The creatures grudgingly get up from their conquest as Boris stands at the ready, his hand on his hilt.
We are the Silent Guard. We do the queen's own justice.
This is not justice.
Boris steps forward and holds his hand out to the young woman, who is grasping at her torn clothes and crying. He lifts her to her feet. The creatures begin to close in on Boris menacingly, but he pays them no heed.
Suddenly there is a RUMBLING, and the ground shakes. The female villager runs off SCREAMING. The guardsmen are looking around as the trees bend and quiver.
A ROAR from above draws their attention, and their expressions dissolve into fear. Swords sing from scabbards.
A giant lizard is peering over the trees, long teeth flashing, red eyes fixing on the group of swordsmen. Suddenly it strikes, as quick as a snake.
A GUTTURAL SCREAM from one of the monster swordsmen bursts from its lungs as he gets drawn up into the gaping maw, struggling all the way.
The others stand on in stunned silence for a moment. Then Boris holds his sword out, and it flashes in the sun.
Boris charges forward and hacks at the giant lizard. The swordsman is showered with blood.

Give me a yell at

Friday, April 09, 2004

Well, my people let me down again this week; maybe the site is going dark. I always seem to join things at the end, like those cute young foster children that always show up on failing sitcoms when the other kids are too old.

But here's another meme--In the world of Blogs, it means an idea that is shared and passed from blog to blog, like a question posted in one blog and responded to in other people's blogs (this definition I got from a big meme list at ( This one's from The Daily Dirt:

1. Grab the book nearest to you, turn to page 18, find line 4. Write down what it says:

Mrs. Sheer remembered it differently. "I hate to say

(This is from THE VIRGIN SUICIDES that a student loaned me, currently sitting on my desk)

2. Stretch your left arm out as far as you can. What do you touch first?

The left wall of my office in the basement.

3. What is the last thing you watched on TV?

ER, last night.

4. Before you came to this website, what did you look at?, where there is a bit of news about PETER ROTTENTAIL up today, thanks to my pals Tim Shrum and Jason Santo.

5. Tell me something abuot you that I don't know:

The photo of me at was taken by Richard "Riff Raff" O'Brien's son Linus, when he was a student of mine at Ball State University. It was taken on the day I was awarded Employee of the Month (the award is just out of sight). I've always thought it was a funny picture.

Give me a yell at

Wednesday, April 07, 2004

Groove is in the Heart

Just for the record, as I'm getting hits because of this, I'm not this John Dalton. Though this looks like a good read.

Although I've mentioned it before, I'm also not the Jon Dalton from Survivor, of the former Secretary of the Navy, or the science guy, although all of those guys seem to have done pretty well for themselves.

For once and for all, I'm the Bigfoot John Dalton.

Also, somebody got to my site by typing "sex in clothes," of all things. And this one: "bedside stands oak for institutional."

I got signed up for GenCon, the biggest gaming con in the world, one of the few places I can go and be one of the thinnest, coolest people there. Now my brother and I definitely have to write that d20 Modern version adventure module based on AMONG US that I want to run there. Just have until August, so I have to start percolating it.

I got a confirmation from Christopher Sharpe that he was happy with my second pass of his script SEX MACHINE and that they will be moving forward. I wish him luck on that, I think it's a neat project. Now I just have to find something new to put in my "at the keyboard" listing.

Honestly, I didn't read "The Pastel City" then "The Devil in the White City" then "God's Mountain" in a row out of some sort of linear thinking, but it sure looks odd in the sidebar, when you think about it.

Give me a yell at

Tuesday, April 06, 2004

If You Could Read My Mind

Today, more from my b-fantasy epic RING OF THE SORCERESS:

A dark log cabin cluttered with arcane magical items: bubbling cauldrons, intricate clockworks, the skulls of unknown creatures. The door bangs open, and the witch ushers the duo in with a flourish.
I would have set out some tea, had I been expecting visitors.
We are on our way to Castle Ebon.
Cymballine is reaching for something from a table, her back to the pair.
Castle Ebon? To see our gentle queen?
When the witch turns around, she is holding two pointed stakes. The pair start. Cymballine looks down at the two spikes.
It is true. When I saw you in the crystal ball, I sharpened a few new spikes. A new head on a new pike now and then give the villagers something to think about. But then again, it's not every day that a powerful sorceress and her zombie minion strolls into my wood.
Cymballine expertly spears something off the table and holds the two spikes up again. They have a number of snacks on each.
Fruit? Cheese? Or fresh pheasant?
I am a monk, not a sorceress.
Oh? And who is this, an archbishop?
While Peryl stands flabbergasted, the witch puts down the pair of skewers.
And why do you think the queen, who consorts with dukes and popes, will see the likes of a swordsman and an acolyte?
I...I know not for certain.
(nods to Shadow)
And you?
My not clear. But I see a black-stoned castle.
Cymballine looks at him curiously.
Familiar, no doubt. And what of the one who dogs your every step?
And who would that be, pray thee?
Cymballine, with a wide sweep of her arm, reveals her glowing crystal orb.
Is this some witch's trick?
Cymballine looks at him curiously.
This, from a zombie? Look or don't, it is of no matter.
But the pair are drawn foward.
The flying lizard arcs across the sky. Its eyes scan the treetops.
From a high angle, it sees Boris leading his monstrous guard through a field.
Cymballine looks on with an arched eyebrow.
That knight, and those...creatures? Following us?
Since he put his sword to the abbey.
Peryl is thunderstruck.
And now, they think to enter my wood? A bold move.
Cymballine looks closer at the crystal ball. Suddenly, it glows red. Cymballine's hands rear back as if scalded.
Cymballine's lizard is shot from the sky by a red beam accompanied by a shrill KEENING. It CAWS and augers into the woods below.
Cymballine's head snaps back as the glow from the crystal ball begins to fade. Her humorous expression fades as well.
I raised that one from a hatchling. They will pay for that.
Cymballine begins to rub her temples, closing her eyes and concentrating. Peryl and Shadow take a step back.
I call for vengeance...VENGEANCE! From the crack of time itself!

Monday, April 05, 2004

Tales of Brave Ulysses

A long weekend, livened somewhat when I checked my webstats over lunch and saw that someone found my blog by typing in "b-movie, zoo, sex."

Well, this is a full-service blog.

Last night I watched a bit of my pal Jason's Red Sox get beat up on by the Orioles, (and my online fantasy league pitching ace Pedro Martinez get hammered, of all people). I never see the Orioles on TV, and since they are rumored to be good this year, with people like Javy Lopez and Miguel Tejada and Rafael Palmiero on board (as well as Ball State University alum Larry Bigbee, I'm sure I'll see them more often. Which is good, because I really like their quaint caps. Maybe I'll become a fan.

I've always written well when listening to baseball on television. There's something in the gentle pace of baseball that seems to stimulate my imagination. And there are always interesting names to tag onto characters when you're stuck--like Miguel Tejada, for instance, whose name was the inspiration for the voodoo master "Tejeda" in PETER ROTTENTAIL.

This time of year, the spring thaw, when hope grows anew, is when I usually get on a good writing run, so I am hoping for the same this year. Especially if the baseball season is good.

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Friday, April 02, 2004

It Takes A Lot To Laugh, It Takes A Train To Cry

My wife has a story published on-line at New Works Review if you would like to check it out. Look in the fiction column on the lefthand side. It's a pretty nice site.

Well, my pals at the blogosphere phenom (link at left) are asleep at the wheel again this week, so I plucked this one out of the archives from this date last year:

1. How many houses/apartments have you lived in throughout your life?

Seven--three apartments and four houses (two I owned).

2. Which was your favorite and why?

Probably the townhouse in Minnesota, because it reminds me of early marriage and family life.

3. Do you find moving house more exciting or stressful? Why?

Stressful, because you have to slash and burn through all of your crap.

4. What's more important, location or price?

Of course the answer is location, location, location.

5. What features does your dream house have (pool, spa bath, big yard, etc.)?

A fireplace, central air, and a big yard for a porch or patio.

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