Just Some Stuff
First off, Claire Thompson's erotic male/male novella, A Princely Gift (which I first published in my non-illustrated yaoi collection, Zowie! It's Yaoi!, back in 2006) is available now as a stand-alone ebook. It's a beautiful story -- if you enjoy intensely romantic male/male erotica with bondage overtones, you will love this. Seriously. You can check it out here. And here's her new cover:
Some other stuff...
Loyal readers of this lofty blog will no doubt recall that my favorite astrologer is, by far, Jonathan Cainer across the pond in the UK. And through Jonathan, I have also become seriously fond of Steve Judd. He is also in the UK, and if you're into astrology, you can check him out here. They have slightly different styles, obviously, but they are both uncannily dead-on. Anyway, that's been my experience with both of them. (The one thing I lament most in life is that my mother doesn't remember exactly when I was born, which means that a personalized astrological chart is pretty near impossible for me to obtain. It also means that I'm forced to wait and let life itself show me what my life is going to be like. Doesn't that just suck, gang???) (PS: my mother doesn't even remember what day I was born on -- if you can believe that. Isn't that funny? The most momentous day in the known history of the world and she remembers, basically, that it was sometime in July...) (This is my biological mom, btw. The one who actually gave birth to me.) (What a heady experience that must have been -- giving birth to me! "Look! It's her! Finally! The moment we've all been waiting for!" Actually, the reality of my birth is almost ridiculously sad, but we won't go into that here. One thing that I find very interesting, though, is that while she was first pregnant with me (no one knew my mother was pregnant until she was already 5 months along), my mother told me that she used to sit alone in her room and play Elvis records all day -- this was when she was 12-going-on-13. And my most favorite thing to do on the planet has always been to sit in my room alone and play records; old rock 'n' roll and very old country & western. I like to imagine myself as that tiny, beating fetus inside a 12-year-old girl, absorbing all those rock-n-roll Elvis rhythms, you know?)
Okay. Everyone in Paris will be excited to know that I am a third of the way done with my new erotic short story. I need to try to cough up two stories, actually, in the next 15 days, but if I can at least get them this first one, and then 3 more later on in the year, it'll be okay. I also have to cough up a non-erotic essay about what it was like to have my first lesbian love experiences while confined to a mental hospital at 15 (the actual lesbian sex part came very shortly after being released). As you can guess, I'm really looking forward to writing about that since it is going to be part of my upcoming memoir anyway, and I am so indescribably self-involved that nothing makes me happier than dwelling endlessly on moi! Yay!
But where does this leave Freak Parade, you might ask??? And well you should, my friends! It'll get done in March. (How does that sound? Does it sound like I know what I'm talking about?) I guess the Universe is telling me to step back for a moment, work on something else, shake out my head a little and then go back at it with fresh eyes, right? It's taken me this long already, and it's such an important book to me, I might as well make sure I do everything I can to get it right, right?? Right.
All right, then! I am finally making some progress regarding the latest bout of depression. It has to do with a new ten-year plan. It has to do with this person I really, really love, who inspires me so much, but who I only run into about once every ten years. So it dawned on me yesterday that this means I'll run into him again in about another 10 years, so that gives me ten whole years to get to the top of my game (work-wise, I mean. My depressions are always about work -- my craft, etc.). So suddenly I felt the whole Universe expand by ten whole years. It felt really liberating. I'm sure I can get a lot done in another ten years.
So, that's it for the stuff today, gang. Gotta get back to the new short story. Hope this lovely Tuesday morning finds you full of hope & empowerment and loaded with gobs of dreams that are just about coming true! Thanks for visiting, okay? See ya! (First, I'm going to slip into my bright red Wellingtons and then I'm off to feed the birds!) (Which reminds me of that film Withnail & I and how they went out to the country and forgot their Wellingtons and had to wear bags on their feet in the mud... yadda, yadda, yadda. Okay. enough! See ya, gang.)
Some other stuff...
Loyal readers of this lofty blog will no doubt recall that my favorite astrologer is, by far, Jonathan Cainer across the pond in the UK. And through Jonathan, I have also become seriously fond of Steve Judd. He is also in the UK, and if you're into astrology, you can check him out here. They have slightly different styles, obviously, but they are both uncannily dead-on. Anyway, that's been my experience with both of them. (The one thing I lament most in life is that my mother doesn't remember exactly when I was born, which means that a personalized astrological chart is pretty near impossible for me to obtain. It also means that I'm forced to wait and let life itself show me what my life is going to be like. Doesn't that just suck, gang???) (PS: my mother doesn't even remember what day I was born on -- if you can believe that. Isn't that funny? The most momentous day in the known history of the world and she remembers, basically, that it was sometime in July...) (This is my biological mom, btw. The one who actually gave birth to me.) (What a heady experience that must have been -- giving birth to me! "Look! It's her! Finally! The moment we've all been waiting for!" Actually, the reality of my birth is almost ridiculously sad, but we won't go into that here. One thing that I find very interesting, though, is that while she was first pregnant with me (no one knew my mother was pregnant until she was already 5 months along), my mother told me that she used to sit alone in her room and play Elvis records all day -- this was when she was 12-going-on-13. And my most favorite thing to do on the planet has always been to sit in my room alone and play records; old rock 'n' roll and very old country & western. I like to imagine myself as that tiny, beating fetus inside a 12-year-old girl, absorbing all those rock-n-roll Elvis rhythms, you know?)
Okay. Everyone in Paris will be excited to know that I am a third of the way done with my new erotic short story. I need to try to cough up two stories, actually, in the next 15 days, but if I can at least get them this first one, and then 3 more later on in the year, it'll be okay. I also have to cough up a non-erotic essay about what it was like to have my first lesbian love experiences while confined to a mental hospital at 15 (the actual lesbian sex part came very shortly after being released). As you can guess, I'm really looking forward to writing about that since it is going to be part of my upcoming memoir anyway, and I am so indescribably self-involved that nothing makes me happier than dwelling endlessly on moi! Yay!
But where does this leave Freak Parade, you might ask??? And well you should, my friends! It'll get done in March. (How does that sound? Does it sound like I know what I'm talking about?) I guess the Universe is telling me to step back for a moment, work on something else, shake out my head a little and then go back at it with fresh eyes, right? It's taken me this long already, and it's such an important book to me, I might as well make sure I do everything I can to get it right, right?? Right.
All right, then! I am finally making some progress regarding the latest bout of depression. It has to do with a new ten-year plan. It has to do with this person I really, really love, who inspires me so much, but who I only run into about once every ten years. So it dawned on me yesterday that this means I'll run into him again in about another 10 years, so that gives me ten whole years to get to the top of my game (work-wise, I mean. My depressions are always about work -- my craft, etc.). So suddenly I felt the whole Universe expand by ten whole years. It felt really liberating. I'm sure I can get a lot done in another ten years.
So, that's it for the stuff today, gang. Gotta get back to the new short story. Hope this lovely Tuesday morning finds you full of hope & empowerment and loaded with gobs of dreams that are just about coming true! Thanks for visiting, okay? See ya! (First, I'm going to slip into my bright red Wellingtons and then I'm off to feed the birds!) (Which reminds me of that film Withnail & I and how they went out to the country and forgot their Wellingtons and had to wear bags on their feet in the mud... yadda, yadda, yadda. Okay. enough! See ya, gang.)
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