Ha ha ha … it’s been a while, so I’m sure you (yes, you reading this here blog) were wondering if I were 1)
dead deceased no longer with the living or whatever; 2) had fallen and couldn’t get up — ha ha ha …; and/or 3) had possibly had my face or [insert body part] ripped off by an escalator or other mechanical device.
However, let me
threaten assure you that they haven’t killed me I’m not dead yet. Ha ha ha …
My husband and I just got back from our awesome trip to Ireland and the UK. I’ve come to think of those countries as The Place of Many Stairs. Ha ha ha … Just ask my gimpy foot. And my barking left thigh, which hurt so much, I kept having to
beg ask my husband to slow the fuck down, and no I wasn’t deliberately trying to walk behind him like a geisha, I just wanted to slow the fuck down even more. Really!
Yet, I climbed 287 of those mutherfuckers to get to the top of Sir Walter Scott’s Tower in Edinburgh. I think.
I’m so jet lagged and whacked out from these stupid dystonia drugs that don’t even work, I can’t even remember which Scottish city that tower was in, for sure. I hope I got it right. I could Google it, but I’m too gimpy and too tired and I don’t care.
Okay, I lied. I do care. So, I looked it up in my Lonely Planet guidebook. The print book. Ha ha ha … I think that’s funny for some reason. Probably because I’m jet lagged and on drugs that don’t work right. And I’m blogging, even though the fingers on my left hand can barely move. But it’s called rehabilitation. So, that’s why I must keep typing. So, please, don’t suggest that I use DragonSpeak, okay? Because then my fingers won’t be used at all, and they’ll be totally fucked. Like they aren’t already. Ha ha ha … #iamfoolish
But I digress. It was Edinburgh, okay? I climbed that damn tower, and I really felt like I’d accomplished something
, even if it almost fucking killed me.
We’ll eventually have the pictures to prove all of this. Really!
Naturally, now that I’m back in the US of A, I’d like to
nag remind you that all my books are half off in July on Smashwords. Click here to access the books and enter SSW50 to get the discount. You can also buy all my books novels in print, of course. Including my latest novel (see above), RIPTIDE. It was published by Renegade Press last month. You can actually get it through Barnes & Noble, and even Amazon or Amazon UK.
Also, one of the first things I did today was publish LEAST WANTED and RIPTIDE directly to the Kobo publishing platform. If you click here, you’ll see the books published in July 2012. Those are the ones published directly to Kobo, as opposed to the ones distributed through Smashwords, which I’m in the process of pulling off the virtual shelves.
I will get to the other books later, when I’m feeling a bit more like a real human being and less like a blogging zombie with crappy fingers. Ha ha ha …
Meanwhile, here’s a great photo of Paul Downie’s friend Trevor. We met Paul and Trevor in Brentwood, Essex, England, and had espresso at Cafe Nero.
And here’s me and my husband. Paul took the pictures and sent them to me. So, I’ll put photos of Paul up later.
Sometimes the universe is just, and my hair looks decent.
Yes. This is the very library where I made the donation so many
years months ago. Seems like a lifetime, doesn’t it? Or maybe it just feels like it to me, because of the constant screaming in my head. I’m trapped in a torture chamber and I can’t get out. But I choose to be happy about it, because I have no other options. Well … one other, but I choose not to die. Ha ha ha … #iamfoolish
So, anyhow, here’s some stuff I saw on the Web, and while I was going through my
50 million many emails today:
I’m so glad I took such pains to mail my copy of RIPTIDE to the Library of Congress before I went on holiday, since they’re collecting such important information these days. Ha ha ha …
I’d look up that scene with Al Pacino on YouTube, but I’m too jet lagged and
gimpy lazy tired stoned apathetic — pick one.
Not all politicians are suck ups and idiots. Apparently.
And on that note
, before I pass out, I couldn’t help noticing that yesterday was Raymond Chandler’s birthday, according to Paul Downie’s blog.
And Paul included a quotation that he thought might be appropriate. And it totally was. To wit:
“I bent over and took hold of the room with both hands and spun it. When I had it nicely spinning I gave it a full swing and hit myself on the back of the head with the floor.”
Pearls Are A Nuisance, Raymond Chandler July 23, 1888 – March 26, 1959
Sounds like the way I feel right now. Ha ha ha …
And here’s the song from the teaser, the title of which coincidentally (or not) was the inscription I wrote on his copy of RIPTIDE.
UPDATE: Holy shit! Look
what who Nathan Fillion picked up, while I was away.