Biscuits & Pillowman

Short fiction: there's something fun about it. An idea from head to page in a flash and then -- at least sometimes -- on to publication. Here's my story "Biscuits" that I wrote for a contest. I got it back with the note that while some of the judges had voted for me I did not win. Them's the breaks. I can deal. I'm just happy to share the story and grateful to the Short Humour Site for wanting to share it.

Saturday night the club down below in my Ballardian dwelling was a bit too loud so I went to bed in the guest room. Now, how lucky am I that I have a guest room to use? But the bed in it is not as cuddly as my own bed. So after going to bed around one am or so, I woke at half three suddenly. Why?

The Pillowman.

I had a picture in my head of him hiding in the wardrobe. I have to say, I should probably blame Mildred for mentioning the play recently because the students put on a production at IU. Although I suppose I should really blame the Houston Stage production that put that very image in my head years ago -- because it stayed there and came out to haunt me that night.

That's brilliant.

I crawled back to my own bed and went back to sleep. It was all right. But such power -- I want to write stories that do that. Okay, maybe not stories that frighten (well some), but stories that awe. And stay with you even years later. Oh yes.

I'm off on travels this bank holiday Monday. News when I return.

Tuesday's Overlooked A/V: Penda's Fen

Big birthday wishes to my li'l brother, Bertie. He wouldn't want me posting a picture that was not pre-approved or artfully touched up, so I will refrain from posting that pouty school photo from when he was about seven...

Much as I might be tempted.

Today's overlooked A/V owes a big thanks to Mr B, who pointed me to where Iain Rowan blogged about this film (and more owls -- awesome! [wait, not supposed to say that anymore; what did we come up with? Prodigious! I don't think it's going to work out though...]). Ahem.

Let's go back to a magical time: 1974. Okay, no so much magical as really really weird, especially when you consider British television. And not just scary PSAs, just really weird programs -- often aimed at kids! I give you Penda's Fen, which you can watch in its entirety online [so sorry the video freeze frames on an instance of animal cruelty! not intentional but I guess that will warn some of you away -- apologies!].





This is a film that would have trouble airing now in the States. Never mind that it deals with Elgar's Dream of Gerontius and Manichaeism (o_O) and homoeroticism, it also deals with the relationship between paganism and Christianity; not simply as atavistic past threatening its 'evolutionary' successor, but with a faith in the power of that pagan past and with a view of Christianity as a corrupt reflection of mechanised modernity.

Wow.

Among the things that would doubtless give many fundies apoplexy, there's the suggestion that Joan of Arc might have been a follower of the Old Religion. The titular pagan Anglo-Saxon king offers a positive model, too. One of the real knock-outs of the film are the dream sequences which are truly unsettling in a very simple way. Two words: uncanny angel! Really creepy! I suspect this film alone may have warped a generation. Wonderful!

As always, catch up on all the recommendations over at Sweet Freedom.

And yes, it's the last day to vote in the Preditors & Editors Poll...

Know-vember: The Other Marko

Jeez, now we're doubling up on entries! Where were you folks at the beginning of the month? I know, I know, everyone's a last minute Charlie. I couldn't get Marko to do the question thing, but his evil twin Bizarro Marko AKA Pony Boy has given me his responses. He's one of the handful of people I still know from when I lived in Los Angeles -- or know again (thanks, social media). Let the madness begin!

Don't hate me because I'm beautiful!

1. What's the first thing you do upon waking in the morning?

Beautiful coffee...

2. What's a song you might be persuaded to dance to?

"Disintegration" by the Cure

3. Where in the world do you live?

Knoxville, TN in my own little world.

4. What's a great night out for you?

Good meal with friends, wine, dancing of all sorts - ballroom to freestyle.

5. What's a great night in?

Wine, fire and movie with my children.

6. If you were offered an all expenses paid trip anywhere in the world, where would you go?

So torn!  Italia?  Egypt?  Sao Paolo?  Hmmm, probably Ukraine from where my parents came.

7. What book do you wish everyone would read so you could talk about it?

Gods of Eden

8. What movie makes you cry?

Gladiator

9. What makes you laugh?

My children in laughter.

10. Are there fairies at the bottom of your garden?

Who told you about my fairies?  Of course there are and they drive the gnomes crazy with their practical jokes.  One time, these two fairies flew past...  Wait!  I've said too much.

Thank you, madman!

Know-vember: Todd Mason

Todd, of course, shows up here frequently whether as a fellow participant and sometime host of Friday's Forgotten Books and the host of Tuesday's Overlooked A/V or just as one of the regular kibitzers. He's on the left in this picture from a family wedding.

1. What's the first thing you do upon waking in the morning?

Pat/skritch the dominant, female cat in the house, Niki, who has probably awakened me so I can pat her and then feed the entire trio of household cats. 

2. What's a song you might be persuaded to dance to?

Some of the music I've actually danced to: THE MAIDEN IN THE TOWER performed by the Brubeck Quartet (a ballet suite that Brubeck didn't complete, but on the album COUNTDOWN the quartet recorded four pieces DB had finished); "She Said Yeah" as recorded by the Rolling Stones; "She's Not There" by the Zombies (introduced a party full of fellow high-schoolers, including eventual pro musician Deb Fox, to them at that time); THE FREEDOM NOW SUITE by Max Roach, et al.; Jawbox’s “Twister” and The Specials’ “Ghost Town.”

3. Where in the world do you live?

A house in Collingswood, NJ, though I also rent an apartment in Media, PA...but entirely too much time is spent in a gray cubicle in Radnor, PA. 

4. What's a great night out for you?

Good conversation, a good meal, perhaps a performance and a good bookstore (a/v materials also good). 

5. What's a great night in?

Conversation, meal, sex, perhaps other performance, and good literature (a/v materials also good). 

6. If you were offered an all expenses paid trip anywhere in the world, where would you go?

Tough call. I so rarely enjoy travel, having had entirely too much of the bad sort in my youth. There are all sorts of places I'd be interested in seeing, but getting there is less than half the fun. If it isn't a round-the-world journey, with many destinations (with rest breaks between), I'd be torn between, say, Italy and Australia, Guyana and Japan... 

7. What book do you wish everyone would read so you could talk about it?

I've spent several years citing those weekly, but among the very best ones are THE EXILE by William Kotzwinkle, LIVING MY LIFE by Emma Goldman, CONJURE WIFE by Fritz Leiber, THE FEMALE MAN by Joanna Russ, THE ENQUIRIES OF DR. ESZTERHAZY by Avram Davidson, THE ALEPH AND OTHER STORIES, 1933-1969 by Jorge Luis Borges, GOING OUT OF OUR MINDS by Sonia Johnson, TROPHIES AND DEAD THINGS by Marcia Muller. Dozens of others. 

8. What movie makes you cry?

In reverse chronological order, among those I recall causing some tears to well: SHAME (the Bergman sf film); PONETTE (who doesn't love a good setpiece of an recently-orphaned child of about six being tormented for her status by schoolmates?); PATHS OF GLORY (with the laughter); THE 400 BLOWS; SNOOPY COME HOME; "The Last of the Curlews" (the first ABC AFTERSCHOOL SPECIAL...they were trying, then). 

9. What makes you laugh?

Unexpected jokes, and well-executed expected ones. Humor that is not about others getting hurt (chided is OK). 

10. Are there fairies at the bottom of your garden?

David Campton's "At the Bottom of the Garden" convinced me at a young age to have them ruthlessly extirpated. 

Thank you!

You're welcome.

Know-vember

Ah ha! I woke up with an idea this morning to do another round of interviews on the blog (inspired by Alan Partridge of course). I'm always taken aback when I realise how many of my friends don't know each other -- not surprising I suppose with my globe-trotting ways, but I always seem to assume that anyone who knows me knows everyone else I know.

Silly me!

So I've sent out the first round of invitations to people I thought might be cajoled into participating. It's meant to be fun, not onerous in any way! You don't even have to tell the truth. Just a way to share the wonderful people I know with each other -- and yes! Of course I will turn the tables on myself at the end of the month. You needn't wait for an invitation: feel free to email me and say you want to be part of Know-vember. Because you do!

Readercon: Of Tin Foil Hats

Among the events today was the Tin Foil Hat event, where strange theories were floated as possibilities. As you can see, one intrepid panelist actually produced a tin foil hat, too.

It was a "you had to be there" kind of event. Many theories both bizarre and  plausible were floated. My own consisted of the idea that in not too many years, what with blogs, social media and indie publishing making everyone a writer, there would only be five readers left in the world (two in China, one in Argentina, one in the UK, and the last in a very difficult to locate island in the Pacific). This handful of remaining readers would be lionised consequently, living like ancient kings with all manner of wealth while writers crawled before them, begging for their attention.

Well, it was better than my initial idea: all SF fans are thin at one end, much much thicker in the middle and thin again at the other end...

The urban fantasy/paranormal panel went quite well.We had a wide ranging discussion that really engaged the audience, too. Everyone had a great time. I finally got to meet Delia Sherman, who's just as terrific as she seems in print. There were a couple of panels dealing with Joanna Russ' legacy and with memories of her from folks who knew her like Chip Delaney. I sold some books at the Broad Universe table -- and I got a great review for "Vironsusi" today, too.

And before I forget, Happy Birthday, big brother!

It Must Be True

Are You Anybody?

I had a rather surprising piece of mail this week, that made my head spin around for a minute and then re-read the message. I've been invited to be a keynote speaker.

Huh? Me?!

Apparently so. It's the eleventh annual Craft Critique Culture Conference at the University of Iowa next April. You can see this year's schedule online and get a feel for it. Here's their description:


Craft Critique Culture is an interdisciplinary conference focusing on the intersections among critical and creative approaches to writing both within and beyond the academy. This year’s conference will explore the dialectical relationship between the periphery and center, specifically questioning the nature, theory, practice or role of the periphery. We invite the submission of critical, theoretical and original creative work in a variety of media and across the humanities, sciences and legal disciplines. In the past, submissions have included not only traditional scholarly papers but also film, video, music, writing, visual art and artists’ books.

So you can see from this description (and as Katie and Sofia, the organisers emphasized), the reason they asked me was for the very thing that most of my mentors suggested I avoid doing: everything! Hee. But it's true. From the time you hit college and even more so in grad school, it's all about specializing. I'm constitutionally incapable: it's natural to me to make connections, even if they're the kind of things that no one else sees. It's quite exciting to have a chance to share that with such a lively group of young scholars and trumpet the positive side of writing across disciplines and the high/low culture divide. Big thanks to my pal Dana who apparently was the one to drop my name in the hat. Several years ago Dana was the brash teen who joined the Horror list; now he's a grad student in Media Studies. How cool is that?

My first thought was that I have to be Vonnegut-worthy in my speech. After the initial euphoria, of course, came the doubt. Then it was Jim Dixon who came to mind, in particular his "Merrie England" speech. All those years ago when I read Lucky Jim for the first time, I had no idea I would become a medievalist. How weird is that? Amis' hero nonetheless resonated with me in part for my (continuing) love/hate relationship with academia.

Then again things turned out all right in the end for Jim: he got the girl of his dreams and a cushy job in London. Could be worse, but I don't think I'll choose "Merrie England" as my topic, although there may be a medieval theme. But no Dutch courage, for sure!

Publications: The Last Ant and High Plains Lazarus

Good news of late: two rather difficult to place items both found homes.  "The Last Ant" is a short humor piece than amused me to no end, but apparently bemused a number of editors who turned it down flat.  I am an acquired taste, as always. It will be appearing in a future issue of the lit mag Wild Violet; you may remember Alyce Wilson's publication as the home also of the pieces "Corrections to the Rules of Fimble Fowl (for 3 players or 4)" and "Me and Margery Kempe" -- clearly Alyce is someone who has acquired a taste for my oddness.

"High Plains Lazarus" is a zombie western set in the 19th century plains. This tale once had a home: it was going to be in an anthology. I was pleased that I had found a publication interested in taking it with surprising speed, because it's quite long story (10k).  Then came the waiting -- and more waiting -- and promises of publication and entreaties for patience -- and finally silence.  The publisher disappeared. Pity. Although zombies have become big business, I found it very difficult to locate a publication that would take a story that long. The majority capped acceptable word count at 5k (many at 4k). It's the kind of thing you should consider while working on a story, but this particular tale had a mind of its own and just kept growing. It keeps whispering in my ear that it would really like to be a novel, please.

Like so many parents, I say, "we'll see."

The story will be appearing in a zombie anthology from Pill Hill Press. Ironically, I began writing the story on a whim just before Trinoc*coN one year, when I decided that I was bored with everything I had ever written and needed something new to read at the con.  I only got it half done, but that was just the right length for my reading. My audience threatened to beat me senseless for leaving them hanging, heh heh. They also gave me some good factual corrections (thanks, Mildred -- I know so little about guns) and feedback.  Mostly they enjoyed the gruesome humor as well as the voice of the narrator, Finn.  Fun stuff.

UPDATE: I forgot to add that my flash fiction piece, "Rothko Red," will be appearing in the anthology Exposure which will be out this fall from Cinnamon Press in Wales. I got the page proofs today and was amused to find that my story had written me: "K. A. Laity by Rothko Red" -- hee!

Leaving London

I knew it wasn't going to be easy leaving London, but I wasn't quite prepared for the way it did happen. It was meant to be simple: tube to Bank, DLR to London City Airport. My cheap flight took me from London to Amsterdam to NYC and then Albany. Not a day I was looking forward to by any means, but prices this summer were horrendous and my hopes to get the trip paid for by leading students didn't happen.

I'd never been to City Airport; I've been to Heathrow many times, Gatwick a few and even Stansted, though I've never actually flown out of it. The light rail went direct to the airport terminal, so it ought to have been easy. After waking up at four, afraid I'd miss my alarm at five, I rolled out and got ready. There was plenty of time and hardly anyone about so early. Smooth sailing on the tube and fortunately, steps down to get to the DLR. The train waiting was for Lewiston, but the next one went to the airport.

However, the train that was sitting there suddenly shut down and everybody got out. What? No DLR today, some kind of problem, the man said. So how to get to the airport? Back to London Bridge, change to the Jubilee line, go to Canning Town... and then what?! Argh, time for a taxi. I was fortunate to have help or I never would have got my one bag, full of six weeks of clothes and presents, up the many stairs. Panic setting in, but actually it didn't take too long for a cab to come along.

The fare ended up being over £20 (ouch) but I suppose it might have been more to Heathrow. City Airport is quite small, so I should be forgiven for thinking it might be easy to get through security quickly. Ha! In the end I had to take everything out of my carry on and my 'suspicious' items had to be scanned again -- yes, that dangerous tea towel and my jewelry case. Reassembling everything at least killed the time waiting in the lounge. The small jet was packed to capacity, at least a third of which was a Chinese tour group of Chinese almost all women.

We had begun our descent into Amsterdam and of course, the seat belt sign was on, but a few of the tour group decided to get up to use the toilets. Suddenly the plane rolled swiftly to the left and just as swiftly to the right. I'd never felt anything quite like that. The little Chinese women went flying. Fortunately no one got hurt. The pilot explained, once we were on the ground, that we had hit the wake of another flight. We should have cleared it easily, but the wind carried it up. Bizarre.

The Amsterdam airport is huge! If you want tulips, you can get them. I nearly missed my connecting flight because my phone didn't pick up the local time and I was an hour behind, strolling along thinking I had all the time in the world, until I saw the listing which said it was boarding now. Oops! The flight on the whole was good: KLM treats you a lot better than the American airlines, including the food and drinks. The flight back always seems endless, but we got a little surprise a couple hours before landing. There was turbulence off and on, nothing much, but all of the sudden there was a huge thump that sounded like we had hit something.

Guess what? As the pilot told us right away, we had hit the wake of another plane ("if you look out the window behind us you should be able to see..."). What're the odds? From the relative luxury of KLM I headed next to purgatory: terminal 2 at JFK, the one that's so run down they don't have a recording of all the things you need to do at security (yes, I had to go through passport control and customs and back through security), they have a guy repeating over and over and over the requirements. Fun!

Well, it could be worse.

A lot to get caught up on, but it's hard to keep from wishing I were back in England. Sigh.

Saint Margaret

From the Cloisters, statue of Saint Margaret of Antioch: Like most of the early Christian virgin martyrs, she was secretly faithful and it was only when a Roman bigwig wanted to marry her that she ran into trouble because she refused him, and in public, too. Roman bigwigs hate that. She was tormented by a demon, but she got the better of him, because when he turned into a dragon and swallowed her, she made the sign of the cross and presto! She popped out of a dragon's belly and thus became the patron saint of childbirth. The demon who was left behind she threw down and held with her foot until he cried "uncle!" and gave away all his secrets. Her suitor tortured her but Margaret refused to give in. Finally he had her beheaded and she died, though she managed to convert a lot of people in the process.

Saints and zombies -- beheading will do them both in. You can always tell the difference, though: saints always smell good. Medieval texts always describe them as being accompanied by a wonderful scent, flowers and spices. Information to file away: you're welcome.

Jane Quiet: Fashion Icon?

Ah, the randomness of the internet! This post on Polyvore showed up on my Google search for Jane Quiet. No idea who this user is or what prompted them to choose Jane, but it's kind of cool (especially the raven ring!), though Jane would never wear those shoes. You can't chase demons in those heels.

Jane Quiet : Occult Investigator by mangoweb featuring Yves Saint Laurent

Items in this set:
M. MARANI M17006 BLACK WOOL -, 255 GBP
Underwear - Boyshorts - New - Gift Guide - Cooler Than You - Elle..., $35
Tribute Suede Pumps, 485 GBP
Crocodile Scarf, Yves Saint Laurent, 450 GBP
Clay-Pot - PYRRHA- Truth Pendant, $125

A Chilly Birthday

Only one hat will do today: it's the Mad Hatter! During one visit to Adrean in Brussels, I kept walking past the shop window where this hat was displayed and I kept thinking, "Oh, it's too expensive." Then I thought, "You're going to regret not getting that hat. What if you never come back to Brussels?" So I got the hat -- but I've been back to Brussels many times.

No regrets though!

It's supposed to be about 17 degrees today. The hat's not just stylish, but necessary. I have to go grade my sophomores' final presentations on medieval drama, then grade the upper div papers while listening to the Punk Rock Jukebox, then meet pals at the Albany Pump Station. Sounds like a good day, eh?

Radio Wombat is Back!

Yes, after far too long I have made another itty bitty podcast for your delectation, part of a new series that wormed its way into my brain in the middle of the night. Yes, do take that as a caution.

The series will be called "Conceit" (the literary kind, not the arrogant type although I suppose the habit of keeping blogs evidence enough of a kind of chutzpah) and the first one is called "Diva Soup" -- further warning I suppose. It features me playing Louhi, the ten string kantele.

The lovely Karita Mattila, pictured left, has nothing whatsoever to do with the piece other than she is Finnish and a fabulous opera diva.

Note to self

STOP MITHERING!

Phone Photos from NC

A GIANT dust mite at the Museum of Life and Science.

A gravestone in the cemetery at Ayr Mount

Flamingos at the NC Zoo

My little pal Chelsea, now 18, waiting for me to go to bed so she can lick my forehead and purr so loudly that I can't get to sleep. She's a little frail these days, but still rules the house.

Giant bee! Giant bee!
Just think of the honey this baby produces..

UK Week 2: Mad Men and English Dogs (part three)

Back from Pennsylvania, where Miss Wendy and I sat in the dark and watched the fireflies when the power went out at Lafayette College, where she's teaching a summer class on comics. Saturday we headed down to Philadelphia and met up with my pal Todd for sushi, drinks and a not so good movie (that most critics seem inexplicably to love). It gave us plenty to grumble over, which always makes for pleasant conversation, so we had a great time.

All right -- back to London (if only!): Thanks to my pal Hamilton, I got to tag along to the Mojo show at the Forum featuring John Cooper Clarke, The Fall and The Buzzcocks with him, his band and his brother.

The only problem was the transit strike; everyone was being warned against taking the tube, so we took buses with the result that by the time we got to Kentish Town, my ears were already ringing from having two mad Hamiltons bellowing in my ears and we just missed John Cooper Clarke (a fact I have only mentioned about a thousand times since). Waah! So I include a video above for your delectation, although it may prove highly offensive to some, the language is unsafe for work, but it's an appropriate tune for the situation.

The Fall, however, were brilliant! I had only known a handful of their songs, but after seeing them I've decided I need to know them all. I even bought Mark E. Smith's book Renegade when I ran across it in a book store a day or two later and devoured it while on various trains and buses in the succeeding days. They have a unique sound which verges on spoken word with Smith's inimitable delivery. Watching Smith perform is highly entertaining as he wanders around the stage, adjusting the amps and bashing the cymbals. The crowd was wildly enthusiastic and appreciative. Wonderful!

The Buzzcocks came on with the amps turned up even louder, sounding just like they do -- although as Hamilton pointed out, Pete Shelley seems to have turned into Mickey Rooney. But they sounded good -- and LOUD. Lots of greying heads bouncing up and down to the music with big happy grins. It was a lot of fun and I'm glad I got to attend (even if I missed John Cooper Clarke...).

Next up, more Shakespeare, more idling, and a film!

Haunting the Night of the Living Dead

I am relieved to have the teaching week over. The real week isn't over yet, but the part of it in which I have to teach is over. It's been a bear of a week, what with a four day a week class, four hours a day. Although I have to say I've have a great group of students -- who require little in the way of nudging to get conversations going -- and a fun topic.

Yesterday we watched the Robert Wise-directed The Haunting with Julie Harris and Claire Bloom (in her fabulous Mary Quant wardrobe). It's a beautiful, subtle and incredibly effective film. I am always amazed at the way the hairs on the back of my neck stand up when I hear the sounds of the haunting begin. Wonderful!

And Night of the Living Dead! What a well crafted film -- it draws on so many of the late 60s anxieties: race tensions, generational rifts, gender anxieties, class difference. It's all there and subtly presented in the film. We had a great time reviewing all the scenes -- and contrasting their views of the 60s from the media with what the "reality" was (the 70s were FAR MORE UGLY than you think, no really far more ugly!). Funny to see huge old phones, giant radios and ice boxes. A very different time!

Crazy Haste

The next interview will be up later today; naturally, I have all the interviews at home while I'm here on campus and running like mad today, because I plan to head down to Bard to hear Liz Hand read between my classes. I will be announcing a new writing gig later this week. I just got interviewed by the Schenectady Daily Gazette regarding Watchmen, which I suspect will NOT result in a quote because I can't seem to learn to talk in sound bytes (work on it, work on it). There's a new podcast interview with Moore by the folks at Disinformation. Gotta run --

UPDATE: Gaah -- too much snow. Didn't go to Bard, waah!

Fiction/Non-Fiction

From the official Empire State Building site:

Narrating the tour is Tony, a fictional, but nonetheless authentic, native New Yorker born 50 years ago in Chelsea, an area of Manhattan not yet the hot, trendy neighborhood it is today. The tour is written from Tony’s point of view and is filled with his colorful, amusing and informative observations about his favorite city . . . and his favorite building.

Huh? I think I might like to be fictional yet authentic. Maybe I am -- who knows?