two rejections

I'm going cross-eyed going over and over this novel. Trying to have a good draft done by the end of June. Took a temporary break from it to work on about five different short stories. Sent one off last night to several places, namely, Word Riot, Juked, Opium, Abjective, etc. Been rejected from Word Riot and Abjective, so far. Quickly. It's a short story. Rejections. I have to get back into the swing of this thing. I got rejected a lot, I used to. Then I got two hits: the Verbicide and the Bare Bone. Didn't do much writing since then. School and life and whatnot. Got really back into it about a month ago, after a couple years picking at the novel I dove in headfirst, and the stories just came with it. But they are rusted and shitty. Will keep going. Will keep submitting.

coolest novel cover ever

From Jeff Vandermeer's blog:

stop crying, you whiny drama llama feministing commenters

I like going to feministing.com. I think it's a well-run website. Most of the contributors are intelligent people. But I'm going to need to stop reading the comment section. If I read one more, "OMG, I'm seriously crying right now" reply to an article about a stupid sexist ad or some sexist scene from a comedy movie, I'm going to scream. These people need to learn how to discuss issues without being drama llamas. Seriously, there are things worth crying about (genocide in Darfur, anyone?), and there are things that need to be mocked and laughed at (stupid sexist ads, for instance). The whole crying thing just makes you look retarded, and in a way, weak. I just picture these women walking around, crying all day, pausing momentarily to watch Flight of the Conchords or that cartoon squirrel that's always being angry and snarky, then going back to crying. "Argh! They've used sex to sell something again! I'm so RIGHTEOUSLY INDIGNANT."

"Argh"? WTF. Evidently, in my mind, all these women are Jon Arbuckle. He'd stop crying, if only Garfield would stop eating lasagna.

music

Currently, I'm in love with the bass sound on Holy Fuck's "Lovely Allen." I can't help but nod my head to The Horror's "Who Can Say." And the whole Battles album is just immense, build ups that make you want to dance around a fire. But mostly, I'm tired of vocalists right now. Especially the ones that can really sing. My phase before this was female singers, Bat for Lashes, specifically. I move on quickly.

bare bone #11

You can pre-order the final "Bare Bone" anthology here:

http://www.rawdogscreaming.com/bb11.html

It's got some kick-ass stories by a bunch of cool pepole, including Kris Saknussemm and Cody Goodfellow, a couple of my favorite writers. Seriously, if you haven't read "Zanesville" or "Private Midnight" or "Radiant Dawn" or "Ravenous Dusk," you really should.

There's also a story in there by yours truly called "Amends Due, West of Glorieta." You should definitely check it out.

flight of the conchords

Today Rios and I drove three hours to Dallas to watch Flight of the Conchords. The rain would not let up on the way down. We passed a car that had flipped into a ditch, we slowed down to watch the guy getting pulled out of the wreckage, the look on his face was like "FUCK." The rain continued. We stopped in a Flying J and purchased an 8x10 framed hologram portrait of a snarling wolf. She's got snow on her muzzle, and she will kill you.

We stopped at the Ripley's museum to use the bathroom. There's a button in there that makes a fart noise if you press it. Rios did not press it, because buttons make her nervous. We took pictures by giant steel dinosaurs.

Grand Prairie, TX is the asshole that Dallas never wipes. We're talking vast expanses of fertile land, with nothing to eat along the way. Ten mile strip of road includes: a Burger King, a Popeyes, a Subway, and a Taco Bell. We chose the Taco Bell, and I was retarded and went against my typical strategy, which is to order the least complicated thing on the menu when I'm in a strange Taco Bell. I got specific with it, extra this, steak that, and they fucked it all up. But I have a soft spot for fast food workers, and the food was still good, so I ate it. The tables were really high relative to the seats, maybe people in Grand Prairie have big bellies.

We got to the Nokia ampitheater really early. First ones there. Waited outside. Watched folks get royally pissed at the ticket handler who claimed they couldn't give Will Call tickets out until 6:15. "Six-fifteeen? This is horse cock!" etc. The guy in front of me at the Will Call was the stinkiest motherfucker I've ever smelled. Ever. Rancid BO.

Met Sebastian and Danielle there. We chatted for a long time and I drank three cups of six-point beer, which they told me were $8, which showed up on the reciept as $8, but now that I'm checking it, are on my bank statement as $9.60.

The show? The show was great, but what else can you say? Eugene Mirman was fucking hilarious, you must seek out things with his name on them. And FOTC was great, very charming, seemed like.

Ride back was steamy and quick, kind of like the last time I fucked your mom.