May 27... Good grief...

I just looked at when the last time was that I had posted. Roughly three months into the death knell of a relationship to which I will not render any more free publicity. Two stories, "The Unfinished" (magical realism, 'Jimbo Story'...from my idea mill and hetero life mate Jim Willig...) and "Send Me The Pillow That You Dream On" (slasher fic in the mode of Trent Zelazny) will deal with it.

But it made me realize how good it is to be back in the human race, with all its joys and terrors, all its nosedives and incredible aerobatic maneuvers and occasionally calm and cloudless skies. How much it beats what I just left. How amazing it all is.

There are a few things to catch up on. I was nominated for the 2011 Pushcart Prize In Literature, for this: I laughed. I cried. The Pushcart. For my Hart Crane alternate-history story, where I gave that poor creature Stephen King's Word Processor of the Gods. <3 <3 <3 <3 In small ways, those moments are what my hero Maurice Sendak calls "bringing the Lindbergh baby back alive."

My first collection of published short fiction,SHOCK THEATRE is out in the small press, from a big name... BLACKGUARD: FATHERS AND SONS also. That one is in the public libraries. As far as I know, I am the first of my noble and quite blue line to have a book in the library, and I salute every member of my family who lifted me there.

It was funny: Multnomah County Library called me for my biography, and I was like, "I sorted out that twenty bucks with you at Belmont Branch!" :)

Many other incidental bits of publication news and Portland literary peripateria to come. Just can't believe how long I let this thing lapse.