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Wk 17
Aug 10, 2020 18:25:30 GMT
Post by rockefeller on Aug 10, 2020 18:25:30 GMT
I smoked pipe-tobacco rollies for a few weeks back in the 70's, but which didn't sit well with my ounce-and-a-half-a-week bud habit. Lungs said one had to go, and it was early enough into the nicotine that it was easier. Pills and psychedelics sort of came and went during that era. A decade later, for complicated health, financial, psychological and social reasons I finally, with some difficulty and at least one relapse, gave up the chronic. Quit drinking just a couple months ago after hearing on the radio that recent studies have determined that alcohol is bad for you in any amount, and more is always worse. But mostly it just wasn't fun anymore. Maybe Covid ruined it for me. So now all that's left is caffeine.
[Rocks takes a hearty sip of green tea. And then another. Burps, and sets his cup down on the cherrywood without a coaster. That's right. No coaster! Prolly leave a ring. Yeah, he's badass. Totally fits in.]
Just read Cusumano's Lennigrad offering. In one gulp. And without skimming. I'm pretty sure it'd pass the memorability test. Even with all its jumping from POV to POV and back and forth in time, it's fairly simple. Also seemingly well researched, with some decent classical music trivia and credible spy stuff possibly gleaned from reading Ludlum or Greene or such.
Although I did wonder why the CIA would care about Russian tank technology when between their two countries they had enough nukes back then to exterminate each other and everyone else maybe three thousand times.
But there's this good sex scene involving the two spies, goes like this: "They stood the cold war on its head." That's it. At least that's how I remember it. Sometimes less is more.
If I had to guess, I'd almost guess it began as a summary for a novel, a plot outline replete with character resumes that evolved into a short that then never matured. So another close call that doesn't quite make the cut.
[Rocks takes another slug of lukewarm tea, bangs the cup down, still without a coaster, onto a spot un-besmirched by his previous neglect. But no one cares.]
No. Damn. Maybe we need a basement here?
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Wk 17
Aug 11, 2020 19:34:35 GMT
Post by rockefeller on Aug 11, 2020 19:34:35 GMT
Hey, I remember this VC, and that I kind of mocked her last cap for its absence of similes and a sex scene. So I'm touched that she's shaken it off, climbed back up on the horse, swallowed her tears, hung tough and come back for more. Though it's possible, even understandable, that she, like so many others, never read my esteemed review. But whatever, here she is again, albeit still with no similes. But, even though no sinuous members are thrust into quivering vulvae (or any other manly protuberances into any other womanly orifices), and it still resonates a vaguely YA vibe, this time there's a fair amount of sex... or at least sexual innuendo. Like when the asshole monk's nice brother, after rescuing the MC, who's accused of being a witch, considerately asks if his evil prick of a brother "did anything" to her, and then, just to be perfectly clear, pokes his thumb in and out of his a-okay encircled thumb and forefinger. Or like when she lets the aforementioned icky monk, to his ecstatic satisfaction, grab her snatch, but then draws line at letting him fondle her tits. She dissuades his stealing 2nd from 3rd by threatening, via witch's curse, to make his dick fall off. A bluff he takes not seriously enough to release her, but seriously enough to not only not rape her but to then inspect with his hand at some measure his man-part's intactness. Or so she assumes. There's violence in this cap, too. Like the fight in which the evil brother rips the nice brother's shirt, revealing a third nipple and exposing him, too, as a minion of the devil.
Okay, enough foreplay. Enough teasing. I wrote a piece very much like it once. In it a young witch avenges her having been gang raped in a previous life by emissaries of the Inquisition (pursuant to the removal of her teeth "for their safety and convenience") and burned at the stake (along with her mother and daughter) by poisoning her church's entire congregation (including her youth group's mentoring priest, whom she remembers as one of her abusers) by mixing extract of Amanita virosa in with the sacramental wine. I think it scored sixth or seventh in some horror-zine's competition, and even got rejected a few more times before I quit shopping it around.
[Rocks hangs his head and frowns at the indefatigable futility of art.]
May I suggest that the author of this Let Them Burn cap, and who is clearly a dedicated and passionate writer, consider splitting her works into more distinct scenes? Like don't try to spew the entire yarn in a more or less contiguous series of dialog-heavy events. And don't be afraid to keep it real. Hit harder. Make your reader cringe. Inspire them to explore their own genitalia's well being. Maybe, if you aren't sure how to write a real sex scene, or even if you are, read some Updike.
I liked the allusion to Judas's 30 pieces of silver. The metal's been on a tear lately, at least until today when the fake Russian vaccine cooled its jets (fucking spot's down 14 percent). Loved the ending too. Even given the title, I was surprised. Thought for sure evil would be punished and love rewarded. So kudos there. Still, no. Not quite yet.
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Wk 17
Aug 14, 2020 0:59:21 GMT
Post by carol on Aug 14, 2020 0:59:21 GMT
[Carol watches Rockefeller. Sees him wax essence of crafting and talk about "writing". Hm]
Dude.
[Carol hip-checks Rockefeller off the cherrywood]
Not sure you know what the fuck is up, but hell, I'm usually confused most of the time ever since that fucking homeless camp I got raped in. Things get fuzzy, cousin.
[She slams down Nicole Tanguary's Life of Birdie on the cherrywood's desktop]
This bitch has crafted some Goodstuff, right? So we're going to send it up. And I would bother you all with pulses of awesomeness and otherworldly snippets of really cool examples of narrative, but that is not what we do here. We send the shit up, or we Porthole it.
[Carol leans back and falls off the stool]
Fuck! Forgot some asshole destroyed the pilots chair.
[She scrambles her ass up off the tiles and gathers up the capital from the desktop. She shoves it down the front of her pants]
I'm guessing you haven't seen this one yet. Used it multiple times.
[She pulls a doobie from her bra and swan vestas it]
Nicole's Life of Birdie has been Teminaled.
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Wk 17
Aug 14, 2020 1:46:43 GMT
Post by rorschalk on Aug 14, 2020 1:46:43 GMT
[The zap and zirp of localized bolts of electricity tracing vague outlines of a portal along with the sharp metallic smell of ozone materialize instantly on the Floor as the Rorschalk spills naked onto the tiles from, seemingly, out of thin air. Spitting and sputtering his time-traveling allotment of ectoplaslm as he lay curled up on the simonizing glass, thus doth he sprekinzee...]
Baaa! John Connor sent me through to save the doomed LIFE OF BIRDIE! The sequence twixt Floor and Terminal has been breached! Turn back! Turn back I say! The center cannot hold!
[Rolling onto his side to a crouch, keeping low to hide his otherwise uncovered genitalia, the Rorschalk duck walk runs like the proverbial monkey into the shadows to be seen namoore, leaving with the last vestiges of speech as he disappears into the gloaming...]
The Floorer. The Florror...
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Wk 17
Aug 14, 2020 13:36:15 GMT
Post by rockefeller on Aug 14, 2020 13:36:15 GMT
[Rocks rolls off the Cherrywood onto the unwashed Floor. His hip might be broken. Who's HR here? Elder abuse? Sexual harassment? Nah. She's just flirting. Probably digs older guys, like that Kamala chick. Gingerly Rocks stands and bows to Carol and her various alter egos.]
You know that Birdie cap you re-terminaled got shot down in flames a few days ago, right?
I appreciate your letting me know what "we" do here, though I've been seeing for myself for some years now.
What "I" do here is read, and if I cannot read, at least try to skim, and if I cannot skim then try to guess from the cap's title and the vc's cover letter's remarks, the content of each and every painstakingly crafted piece sent "my" way. I then try to offer evidence of my having done so, or, at very worst, a reason for my having been unable to, always endeavoring to make abundantly clear that I am a literary blowhard whose opinions are as uninformed as they are biased. In exchange for these scant efforts, I allow myself the luxury of the occasional brief political polemic and to wander off into the odd senile reminiscence. I do not mollycoddle, nor do I try to be an asshole, which comes all too naturally to me. As to us all.
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Wk 17
Aug 16, 2020 1:17:40 GMT
Post by carol on Aug 16, 2020 1:17:40 GMT
Fantastic. Hombre.
[Carol shoves her ass onto the stool set just behind the cherrywood]
Good to know Life of Birdie got some treatment pre my treatment, but I could not care less. I was sent the capital, and I examined it, and I am sending it up. So you, whateverthefuckyournameis, can go fuck yourself. Life of Birdie is being raised to the rafters, cousin. Might be Goodstuff. We shall see. And, hey, Rock, if you want to make this capital go downs-ville, you're going to have to email the VC and let them know you think they they suck. Otherwise, we are fucking good.
[Carol sparks a joint, sucks in some sweet smoke]
Once again, Life of Birdie has been Terminalized.
[Carol swivels on the the stool looks around the Floor]
What the fuck are we doing here? I send shit up. Rock tells me it ain't going up?
[Carol shakes her head]
S'like Trump dealing with a virus. God, I am sickened.
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Wk 17
Aug 16, 2020 2:11:11 GMT
Post by carol on Aug 16, 2020 2:11:11 GMT
[Carol leans back in the Not-fucking Pilots chair/stool, and she she breathes in some closeted covid air]
We have examined Jones's The Errol Flynn of Mountain Gulch and wow. We wonder why some VCs do this. I would love to talk on and on about how terrible this capital is, but the facts be, cousins, it's just so fucking bad that we need to Porthole it. Side note, it's so bad we have to believe it was done on purpose.
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Wk 17
Aug 17, 2020 19:09:31 GMT
Post by rockefeller on Aug 17, 2020 19:09:31 GMT
Yeah.
When VCs include CVs, sometimes I check out the markets. I was happy to see that the Eric Hoffer anthology is dead. It was one of my worst publishing experiences. Only one contributor got paid, and you don't find out who (wasn't me) until after signing their contract. But then really, in a way, what anthology isn't a scam. Publishing is a scam. Except, of course, TQR. Of course.
So the cap's cover title here is "Tarot" but the next 38 pages specify "Hideaway" like Casico forgot to update the docx Shunn-stlye header, and also never reread it. Maybe trying to resuscitate 1st print rights? A minor head scratcher, like appending (Reversed) to many of the chapter's titles.
I read the first couple paragraphs carefully, a few times, trying to gauge the voice and POV, and spot any plot hooks, styling or expertise that might attract me to the long read ahead. But there weren't. Casico seems to like to end paragraphs with a character's thoughts or actions, and have them speak untagged in the next. So it was actually a little confusing.
Because the prose flowed well with some apt description, I read about half, word for word, and remember being most engaged after a number of dollar store customers' bulk purchases made me think some mysterious disaster had inspired them to stockpile. There's this wrinkly creep in a wig who seems to be stalking the MC. She catches her husband getting a blowjob from some guy in order to make the rent. There's a lot of dialog, and an armed robbery in which no one is hurt. But, maybe because I skimmed the final third or so, none of it really tied together.
The ending was cool, all creepy and open, but not enough to warrant a bump up.
[Rocks blows Carol a kiss while pushing Tarot (aka Hideaway) into the porthole. She does not appear interested in blowing back. To say the least.]
Never read that Birdie cap. Don't care where it goes or how it gets there. Maybe poke your head up into the Terminal now and again. Go easy on the time travel. Slum a little. Break something.
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Wk 17
Aug 19, 2020 1:22:41 GMT
Post by carol on Aug 19, 2020 1:22:41 GMT
S'not a party 'till something's broke. Rob Lowe quote.
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Wk 17
Aug 21, 2020 0:28:42 GMT
Post by carol on Aug 21, 2020 0:28:42 GMT
[Carol taps the last 1/8 inch of her doobie into the gigantoid marble triangular ashtray sitting upstage left on the desktop]
Are you guys fucking with me? No one's going to name the movie?
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Wk 17
Aug 21, 2020 1:54:47 GMT
Post by rorschalk on Aug 21, 2020 1:54:47 GMT
[Halloween Ted is a real cool cat and he lives on top of Manhattan Chase,
The elevator's broke so he slides down a rope,
Down onto the Floor below, Oh Tarzan, go man go...]
Been around for many a year, warmed my toes out in the sun
Made damn sure that the pilot had his license before the fun
Had a wank in Boligard's rank though no homo was ever done...
I swear it!
Now, about this film trivia...as I've said, I've been around for many a long year, as in God-like denominations of bons temps and dust motes and clear, orange kittens... but let us not devolve into song namoore and I shall reveal the answer of this stumping question. Is it...
ABOUT LAST NIGHT?
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