A Toss Into the Void

Heyo, I’m not dead. I’m not really much of anything at the moment. I got hideously sidetracked by something I’m embarrassed to talk about, so I won’t. Just know… I am fully aware of myself and my hypocrisy.

In other news, because I was so distracted, I have not done any writing. I have not typed anything since last we met, and I have done nothing with my made up language. I’m not … I’m not depressed, but I’m kind of just floating. In some kind of ether a bit.

But I wanted to give a quick “still kickin’ don’t worry” to the universe (and those of you who read this) because I know I have a habit of forgetting this place exists. I haven’t forgotten you. I could never, don’t look at me like that! You know you’re my favorite.

And now that’s done.

My nephew isn’t talking yet, but he makes Donny Thornberry noises and it is as precious as it sounds. He’s also very fond of yeeting things. My niece is now a second grader, and I’m so proud of how much she loves learning. My brother called me one night (which scared the shit outta me because we aren’t a phone call kinda bunch) to tell me that my niece went to bed, but she didn’t go to sleep. Instead, she was reading. I don’t have the words for how delighted I was to hear this.

I think that’s all I’ve got for now. I haven’t eaten yet today and I really probably should. Okay, that’s it. Bye!

Until next time, friends. ❤

Writing Journal #24

Having finished the rewrites, I did start typing up, but I also used the weed whacker on my entire lawn because I “let the pollinators” have it. So my arms were absolutely borked for about three days. I did very little typing. My goal is to have everything typed up by midmonth, and then do a typo run because my god damn you wouldn’t even believe I know how to type. The worst one is eyes. I’m always typing eeys. Who is that, me? Who is that? Why do you insist upon that which cannot be insisted upon?

Anyway, yes, so I’m doing writing stuff. I mentioned I was going to beta for someone, and I did start this. I backed out, however, because I don’t think my insight will offer much. It’s not a story I typically read, and while I don’t usually back away from such a project, this one felt a bit like I’d be playing a bit of Marco Polo with myself, so I respectfully stepped away.

I also have my first DNF of the year for books I’m reading. One of my bingo board books, which is one I’ve tried to read many, many times, but it just feels less like a cohesive book and more like a person climbing over the counter while you’re trying to pour them a glass of milk, and they need you to see this rock RIGHT NOW or else. It’s a non-fiction, which I am trying to read more of, but this one was a no from me, dawg. Eating Animals by Jonathan Safran Foer, and if you’re a long time listener of the blog, you’ll recognize that name as someone I’ve mentioned as a favorite. Well, his approach to non-fiction left a lot to be desired for me. I’ve been vegetarian for ten years now, and yes, when this book was published, factory farming was less talked about in larger conversations. So, perhaps it’s not a timeless kind of book. I often say I’m a cool vegetarian because I don’t judge people for how they eat. I have known food insecurity more than once in my lifetime, so I’m not about to say “you can’t eat that!” Especially nowadays? Goodness, have you seen the cost of broccoli?

But that’s my point. When we got so concerned over other people’s bodies, I’ll never know, but it’s kind of creepy and a bit weird, to be real frankfurter (the lightlife brand veggie dogs are decent. not perfect! but decent). I have been of the mindset lately that we should be much less eager to share everything. I say while writing a blog post. But I’m not giving you details about extremely personal bodily functions, or what … other things. Yeah, I want to go back to being quiet. Making sure my words have a purpose before I use them.

I had something else to talk about, but fuck if I remember what that was (the word fuck always has a purpose). I’m going to type now, though, with my non-borked arms. I hope you are–WAIT. I remember. I was going to tell you what I am reading now instead of the myeh myeh book. Two from my bingo board, and one from an excursion with a friend. The Bean Trees by Barbara Kingsolver, The Monkey Wrench Gang by Edward Abbey, and Mule Boy by Andrew Krivak. Mule Boy is a trip down McCarthy lane because it’s all one sentence and there are probably a thousand commas before you get to page 30. But it’s an interesting concept, and I’m finding the rhythm of it, much like I do when I read McCarthy.

And now, I’m done. Thank you for sticking around. I hope you’re well, and I hope your words are never ordinary because you, my darling, are extraordinary. Look at ya. Would ya just look at ya. Stunnin’.

Until next time, friends.

Writing Journal #23

Who’s your favorite Disney princess? If you say anyone other than Joanna from Rescuers Down Under, we need to talk further. Always herself, obsessed to the point of trouble, accidentally helpful, and a lizard. What else do you need for a role model as a child?

I’m a bit sleep deprived. I finished my content rewrites last night and then stayed up reading until about nine this morning. I slept for about two hours before an appointment and now I’m getting ready to start typing up the second half of the book I left so kindly for myself to do. Every time, you know? Every time I say “oh, I won’t leave the whole book for me to type this time.”

And yet, here we are. Currently, the book sits at 45k something. I basically rewrote the entire second half of the book, which I had a feeling I would do since I changed a bit of a setting. “A bit” like I didn’t change the entire heckin’ biome.

I’m reading, as well. And on Monday (tomorrow, me. wait no. today is saturday) I’m going to start beta reading for someone. Take a break and let Lazarus sit for a bit while I focus on something other than Frankie and her sadness.

The sun is out today, and my car was hot when I got into it after my appointment. This is my least favorite season. I like the nostalgia of summer, but the heat makes me want to peel my skin off layer by layer. I’m not a kind person when I’m sweaty and uncomfy.

What was I talking about? Oh, right. I’m going to get typing now. My dad has a play this evening that I’m going to, and then I’m going to do a big ol’ fuck you clean to my depression shrine that’s been existing for a while.

I’m ashamed of it, but it’s hard to keep up with the sad when all you want is a bagel and you don’t have any clean plates because you don’t buy paper for the environment. I did get paper towels for my most recent tattoo (so I wouldn’t get my plasma goo on the towels, even though that’s what they’re for) for sanitation purposes, so I’ve been using them as temporary plates.

Are we temporary? I guess so. We like to think there’s a bit of infinity within our carbon, but sometimes the infinite and finiteness dance too darkly, and we forget that dust is what we are.

Mmmmm, we’ve hit the sleepy rambles. Maybe I shouldn’t type up today. Hah, nah. I don’t want to be responsible yet. So, chapter fifteen here I come, baby!

Until next time, friends. May your plates be clean and your socks be dry. Watch out for them there puddles, babes. Pretend I winked here. I can’t actually wink in real life unless I think reeeeeally hard about it. So I guess I just blinked at you.

….fuckin’ hell

A Gentleman in Moscow by Amor Towles

Some of the reviews I read about this book chastised the author for giving the main character a “good life” after the horrors of the Great Wars. Count Alexander Rostov wrote an incendiary poem, and therefore becomes a Former Person in Moscow. He’s placed under house arrest at the Metropol hotel, where if he steps one foot outside, he’s going to be shot. I’m not saying he has it worse than those who suffered the atrocities of occupied territories, or those who went through the horrors of the Holocaust. There are several instances where I find him a bit too aloof for the realities around him, what his fellow Russians are going through in the direct aftermath of the war. I do think, however, that as one who is forced to spend the rest of his life in one place, he is doing his best with what he has available to him.

Alexander strikes up an unlikely friendship with a nine-year-old Nina when he’s in his early thirties. Her family visits Moscow and they explore the hotel, getting in near misses with the staff as they’re sneaking where they shouldn’t be. When it’s announced Nina is going away for good, she bequeaths him her master passkey, a gift of immense responsibility that Alexander takes very seriously.

Over the next decade or so, we get to see how Alexander spends his time, and eventually he begins work as the headwaiter in one of the hotel’s restaurants. This allows him to form friendships with the chef and maitre d’ and bartender of the respective restaurants. He has an affair with an actress, becomes annoyed with the various hotel managers, and life persists.

Count Rostov is not one to give in to the grief of his losses. He seems to find such a thing preposterous and whimsical, and that is not the kind of whimsy he believes in. He receives visitors over the course of his confinement, and forges alliances as one does in hotels when one is a guest for a lengthy period of time. I found myself wondering, though, if he was lying to himself about the weight of this confinement. While it wasn’t solitary, he couldn’t actually cross the square to the theater, or witness the ballet dancers on their stage, only hear about their performances whenever they visited the bar of his prison. A lavish prison, but prison nonetheless.

What I found the most compelling about Rostov is how beautifully he clocked a person when he first met them. One of his acquaintances is a colonel who comes to visit him monthly for a time, and he receives a Western culture education. At their first meeting, Rostov tells him exactly where he is from simply from the wine he chose to start with, and when the colonel asks “because he’s a hayseed?” Rostov responds with “Because he misses home.”

This was the first moment of the book that made me do a little “oh!” and cover my mouth to hold in my despair at how lonely he must have truly been. I wish I could go on forever about the way this book made me feel, but I’ll parse it down to this: we never know the impact we have on anyone, and most of the time we will never find out. The smallest acts of kindness, of restoring order after a crisis, we’ll never fully understand the effect they have on those watching us silently. We don’t know how others see us, and sometimes we don’t know we’ve been seen. That is the core of this book. Alexander spends so much time seeing others, he doesn’t even consider the fact he might be seen just as well, and just as purposefully.

And that is where I will leave this review. Not so much a review as a summary, but I gave this four out of five stars on Goodreads (five out of five on my bingo board because I got a bit carried away filling in the stars, but that’s not for me to discuss past this moment).

Until next time, friends. I hope the sun is shining for you, and you see the way the breeze moves the leaves.

Writing Journal #21

Morning!

Nope. It’s after noon now.

Whatever time it is, I hope it’s well for you.

What have I been doing? Well, I’ve been putting the edits into a second content draft. That will probably be revised, parts rewritten soon. But I’m finding out more things about Milton Fogg that are just diabolical, as the children would say these days. I kind of hate him. But in that “he’s so bad he’s good” kind of way. I’d go on, but I don’t want to spoil things. I also am biased, so maybe he’s not that deep of a character. We’ll find out.

I’ve been doing a shiiiiiiiiiiiit ton of work on the language. Found a new phrase the Moarteans use. If they’re startled or uneasy about something, they say “the hair of my stomach is bad” or “hair of my stomach!”

somsuk res xixba-mi

They also, when greeting people formally, will say “Are you well?” if it’s someone they respect, or just, “You are well,” if it’s someone they want to have a quick interaction with. It’s not fully disrespectful, but it is barely polite if you are told you’re well instead of being asked if you are.

These creatures and their social niceties, haha.

There’s a phrase they use that’s an insult that I just love. It’s essentially “lick death” but the literal translation is “use your tongue on death.”

bren ostipa-ti kil moartea.

Sometimes I find myself talking to my brain in Moartean and I look at where I’ve been and where I’ve gotten to and I have this moment of “oh shit.”

Saw a reel from Steve himself, the Blues Clues Steve, and the question was “What are you most proud of?” and my answer is two-fold. First, I stayed and I’ve gotten to see my brother be a dad. His kids are perfect. I know all aunts say that about their nieces and nephews, but if I could show you just how bright my life is because I’ve gotten to see a person grow into who they are, because my brother is the man he is, I would give that to you.

But then take it back because it’s mine, ha.

The second part of that answer to Steve’s question is: I am proud of my words. The ones I toss together in books, but especially the ones I’ve made up. I’m obsessed with words. I love them with so much of my heart sometimes I forget to exist outside of them.

But that’s what nieces and nephews are for. To keep us real. To keep us from getting too far away from ourselves.

I hope you are doing well. I hope your words are friendly, and if they’re not, shape ’em up, yo. They belong to you. You belong to them. It’s a dichotomy of osmosis. Or some shit. I don’t know, wanted to be pretentious at the end here.

I’m grateful to you. For reading my words whenever I drop them here. Like little crumbs of my consciousness. Glimpses into the maze of TV static that is my mind. It’s not always awful in there. I do spend quite a bit of time in it, so I’ve found some nifty things along the way.

Feel the wind today. Let it lift your face to the sky and you smile at it. Give those clouds, the sun, the rain, whatever! Give it a smile and let it warm you even if it’s cold out. You are just as much a gift to it as it is to you.

Until next time, friends.

Writing Journal # 20

Well, well, well. We meet again. Hello.

I’m buried in edit mode, and I’ve been basically rewriting the whole thing. But that’s how edits usually go, right? It’s not the whole thing, I’m not that bad of a writer. But there are definitely spots that need some expansion. I’ve added about three hundred words so far, which sounds like I’ve not made much progress, but the way I’ve rearranged sentences and removed others entirely, it feels good.

I don’t really have much to talk about this round. I’m going to try and get back into reading a bit more now. Had a weekend of books, some gifted, some I spent too much money on. All adventures I look forward to eventually.

I hope you’re doing well. Maybe next time I’ll talk about how I find little pieces of real life to stick into my main character’s life. Scenes along a road. Drifting in limbo of a sort.

Until next time, friends.

Writing Journal #19

Hi, hello. I’m running behind and I have to get ready to leave for work in … now. But I wanted to put some thoughts down before I go too far away from them. I’m working on the edits for Lazarus. I keep calling it Lasagna in my head, so that’s fun. I’m also embarking on a more serious dive into the language creation aspect of my series, and I’m really quite excited about it. I have some regret in publishing the prophecy as it appears in Fulcrum, because I’ve had some understandings about the language that can’t be undone, BUT there’s a possibility I can maybe stretch things a bit depending on what words I already have and so on and so forth.

That’s all for right now. Short and sweet, and now I leave you with the idea of a good time.

Until next time, friends!

Writing Journal #18

Salutations and saturations, friends. It’s still cold as balls. I’m slowly editing Lazarus, and that’s about all there is to it. I haven’t really done much in the way of writing yet this year, and while it’s a little weird that I haven’t, I’m oddly okay with it.

I have two big projects I want to get done, publish Lazarus, and then get a first draft of a hard sci-fi story I got inspired to do a little while ago. I have a lot of plans for future projects. Short stories and so on.

It’s February. I just realized how very little I blogged in January. I wasn’t really doing anything. Just working and … probably watching too many episodes of X-Files (Walter Skinner can get it, yo, god damn.) But now I’m on a different shift at work, so my mornings have been freed up quite significantly. I’ll find a balance, but I think I’m going to enjoy very much the time before work to be productive.

I’d always have such ambition to do stuff after work, but I’d get home and want to do nothing. Work all day to go home and do more work? No, thanks. But with the before work hours of free time, I’ve done so many things. I feel unstoppable. Which is probably just the manic part of my depression getting all demonic and cackling as we burn out. But I’m going to view it as a good thing for now.

I chopped up five pounds of onions this morning to put in the freezer for when I want to make a batch of soup. I did the same with some celery and some carrots. I’ve been meal prepping all the things, and it has been incredibly helpful as someone who doesn’t like spending money on fast food stuff. I’m cooking so much more for myself and it is a gosh dang delight. I made red lentil curry that gave me the biggest joy I’ve had in a while when it comes to food.

That’s not writing, but life aids the story. I’m reading the second book from my Bingo Board. I don’t know if I’ve talked about that yet. Last year, I did a bingo board of things I wanted to do in 2025. I did about half of them, which was neato. Didn’t get a full bingo because I set it up strategically so I wouldn’t get one unless I did the fitness things. Clearly, a strategy that didn’t work. So, this year, I went for books. I picked thirty books I want to read and I’m marking them with stars once I finish. I know bingo boards only have 25 spots, but the extra five are “bonus bingo.” Books I have in case there’s one I decide I really don’t want to read. There’s one I’m toying with not finishing, and it’s one I’ve tried to read several times. But that’s me, never wanting to give up on someone or something.

The first one was the previous post on this site, The Sun Also Rises. My goal is to do a book photoshoot after I finish one and then do a book post on here. We’ll see how well I do! I look forward to it all, really. Some of the books are ones I’ve had for a long, long time. I do still want to read them, which is why they exist on my shelves and not in the donate piles.

I think that’s about all the news from this side of the trees. I hope your books are comfy and your words are easy to find. I’ll talk to you soon, probably. I’ll always find something to yap about!

Until next time, friends.

Books of the Year 2025 Edition

Hello! Good morning. It’s still morning, I think? Yes. 10:37 a.m. as of this very moment. Hi! Welcome. So, this is my list of books I liked a whole lot this year. One or two of them on this list I’ve already done full posts on so I won’t go too deeply into them, but I’ll still give them the “heyo” on the list they deserve.

And so! In no particular order of importance, I give you my books of the year for 2025.

Solaris by Stanislaw Lem

This book gave me a ton of questions to ponder after I finished reading it. Very heavily themed on how psychology affects science, and whether or not we can find answers without it. Or that’s how I took it. I think I could have taken it a different way than intended, but there’s something one of the characters says that makes me feel like I’m a bit on the right path. Well, a few things said, but one in particular.

“But what’s its name? We have named all the stars and all the planets, even though they might already have had names of their own. What a nerve!”

This small moment really stabbed me right in the brain and it made me think of how we give words to things that may already have words of their own. But do those words exist if they aren’t spoken? See, this is one of those books that sent me on several different thought spirals. I really enjoyed the pondering it gave me. My main question at the end of the book (I actually wrote in pencil at the very end) was, “does compassion exist in science outside the realm of psychology or does it exist to temper curiosity?” I recommend this book if you want to think too much about a planet that doesn’t exist. I gave this book 8/10 stars.

Once There Were Wolves by Charlotte McConaghy

I don’t really have much to say about this one other than I thoroughly enjoyed it. Might be because I read it while camping, so sitting by the fire in one of my blankets and reading in the quiet of an autumn morning. But this book is a fantastic juxtaposition of murder mystery with wolves and their importance to conservation efforts. I really liked that aspect, too. It’s not preachy. It’s a genuine scientific approach to conservation that isn’t just “the trees are the only thing that are keeping us alive!” I liked how the mystery fit into the plot. I didn’t read it as a mystery so much as a book about wolves and there happens to be some murder. It’s also a book about sisters and the loss of a solid familial foundation. I wholeheartedly recommend this one. This book got 8/10 stars.

Atonement by Ian McEwan

This is one I already did a post on, so I won’t blather on too long about it here. This is a beautiful book about being a kid trying to understand what the adults are doing and why they do what they do. I just went on a skim through some sections and reminded myself why I loved the book so much. It’s truly stunning, in my mind. I don’t remember what I gave this, so hang on while I go look at my own self. 9/10 stars

Logos by Nicholas Nikita

Another one I already did a post on, the first book I read this year, actually. And we are at the end of it where I’m still thinking about it. That’s pretty powerful stuff, yo. I don’t own this one, so it isn’t in the photo, but that doesn’t mean it’s less important. It’s an interesting look at the beginning of civilization and how people view and hold power. I gave it 8/10 stars.

Blood of Hercules by Jasmine Mas

Listen. I’m not about to claim this as groundbreaking literature. There are several elements of this that are … disliked, shall we say, by a lot of people. I loved this book. It’s hilarious. You have to have a certain kind of humor for some of the stuff in this book to be funny. I don’t care that there’s modern slang tucked in with a plethora of what we’d assume Greek mythological characters would be like. I legit just enjoyed this book. It’s not for everyone, but it brought me laughter and I will always adore something that makes me laugh. I give this 8/10 stars.

Everything is Tuberculosis by John Green

I’m not overly fond of John Green’s fiction, but his non-fiction? Absolutely my jam. My vibe. My “thanks, give me another.” In this book he discusses the fact that there is still a tuberculosis epidemic when in the USA, we’ve all but eradicated it. It all boils down to what the pharmaceutical companies would describe as “cost-effectiveness.” I recommend this book if you want to have a quick look into the world outside the US at a disease that rampages through other communities. I give this book a 9/10 stars.

The Poisonwood Bible by Barbara Kingsolver

This book sat on my shelf for over a decade. I returned it to a donate pile, and then I happened upon it again in the wild, and decided to buy it once more just in case I felt like I could read it.

Well, I did. And it broke my heart. But not like… broken broke. It showed the struggle of a white family with a pastor patriarch living in the Congo in 1959. This is a fictionalized version of history, but that history was still happening. The Congo fought for its independence, and that fight trickled into the rural areas, and dangers of many kinds came for the Price family. I don’t have many more words past this is such a harrowing look at how religion can hold onto a person in face of perils, and how family can fracture in the wake of those perils. It has tragedy. It has love. It has tension. I gave this 9/10 stars.

Slonim Woods 9 by Daniel Barban Levin

What a powerful piece of writing, my goodness. This memoir follows the journey of one of the members of the students at Sarah Lawrence who formed a miniature cult under the charisma of Larry Ray. There is a lot of heft in this. Details of mental, physical, and sexual abuse that is often rampant within cults. Not all cults, but most of them. Daniel is a poet, and that shows very beautifully throughout this book. It’s not one I would say read if you’re in a weird mind space because it is so heavy. I’d heard about this whole thing before, but it was when I watched a video essay about the events that led to Larry’s arrest that I found Daniel’s book. I waited a bit to read it, because I knew it was going to be a lot, but I felt like I owed Daniel somehow. I learned about Larry, but I wanted to give more of my attention to his victims. I don’t know if the others in the house/apartment have written anything (something a quick search would reveal, obviously), but it’s a fascinating situation. How one man had so much control over a group of students. I gave this book 8/10 stars

Quicksilver by Callie Hart

Yes, another romantasy book, hush. No, it’s not groundbreaking. But I liked the fact the FMC is an alchemist, and I liked how she had to use her intelligence to solve problems instead of just be an angry Chosen one the whole time. There are things I don’t like about romantasy tropes, and this book does have a few of those, but it’s one I found interesting enough in spite of the tropes to want to read the sequel. I just need it in paperback. I gave this book 7.5/10 stars.

The Witchstone by Henry H. Neff

From my goodreads review: “absolute banger of a book. It’s not a new story, but it’s certainly a fun take on the hero’s journey. Truly enjoyed this read.”

So eloquent. But in all seriousness, this book is truly a fun jaunt into a different kind of take on the hero’s journey. It follows a demon who’s been rather lax in his maintaining of a family’s curse, and chaos ensues when he goes to the surface to get things moving properly along. He forms an unlikely alliance with the eldest child of the family as she attempts to “break” the curse, not knowing the demon wasn’t telling the truth when he said there was a possibility of breaking it. There’s banter, there’s weighty moments, there’s family. Gumption and spirit, pluck and defeat all feature in this book and I recommend it. There are some elements that were not popular with some readers, but that gets into spoiler territory and I don’t want to ruin the mood. I gave this book 8.5/10 stars.

And that’s all I have for today, friends. My plan for next year reading-wise is to do a Book Bingo board, and I’ll be doing a post/photo for each book I finish. So, look forward to that, I guess!

Thank you for reading my posts this year. I think I did better about posting, and I plan to continue that next year. If this year was rough for you, I hope you’re able to see through the rough to find the helpful. You made it through, and you get to keep striving forward. Thank you for being here. Thank you for trying even when you don’t want to. I promise it’s worth it. Might not feel like it ever, but I refuse to believe we’re meant to suffer our whole consciousness.

Until next time, friends. ❤

    Writing Journal #17

    I’m not writing! I swear it on the precious.

    I’m just typing up what I wrote last so it’s on official printed out copy. I started a hard sci-fi novel that I’m not sure how I’ll do with writing it because I know nothing about space past the stars are pretty, but maybe if I focus on the plot more so than the setting, it’ll be … not easier to write, but it’ll be more cohesive, I guess. I don’t know the word I want.

    Anyway, yeah. Not writing directly, although I’m excited about next year’s prospects with all the projects. I think I want to get a full draft of this novel, and then I think it’ll be about time to get Lazarus Rising published, and I also might get my short stories collected in such a way I can put them out, too.

    Planning forever, that’s me.

    Short entry this week, as I’m not actively writing. I say like I’m not actively writing. I’ve had some kind of illness for the last week or so and it’s been just a delight. It’s not the vid, all tests said no. I think it’s a pretty hefty chest infection though. Me lungs are gooey, cap’n.

    Cough medicine makes me delirious. Okay, I’m done now. Have a good week, many joys and salutations to you and your words. I hope you’re well.

    Until next time, friends.