My Bookshelf

Friday, September 27, 2013

Channeling Bangs?

So I did the retro thing after posting a review on Lester Bangs' "Psychotic Reaction" on Epinions and drank a bottle of cough syrup.

It gave me a terrible case of dysentery and has the world spinning on end. Mentally it's kinda like raft riding, I'm floating on a river of literature. I'm going from Reinaldo Arenas to Carl Jung to Ayn Rand to Paul De Man to some silly metaphysics bastard who's all about the same self-help positive thinking Joel Osteen Robert Carnegie whoever stuff that comes out of the same cereal box. I've decided 2014 is going to be my year, my ship will finally come in. My mind is expanding more rapidly than ever before (nah, it's not the cough syrup), but we'll see if my bank account catches up. It's kinda cool when you can just kick back and turn your humble abode into a think tank, get up at three in the morning and rush to the PC with this burning idea without worrying about suffering the tortures of the damned at Shithole in a couple of hours. I'm coming up with some of the most profound thoughts of my life right, hell no, it's not about Tussin CF.

Torquere/Prizm is still on my ass about Lyrica being a Stxeamtown wuss, so I turned her into an Ayn Rand objectivist superbitch overnight. I think that's how they're going to like her, but if they don't, well, I'm going to end up like the Sex Pistols at Virgin Records, getting kicked out before hitting a lick. My editing deadline is Monday and my editor's on holiday, so unless Super Lyrica can get this train back on track, there may not be a steampunk novel under the tree this Christmas.

On the other hand, Netherworld Press wrote to say that The Fury may be hitting the shelves by Halloween. I'm definitely thinking about going down to a local bookstore and see what the locals think about a hyena on the cover with a NYC backdrop. Maybe I'll knock off another bottle of cough syrup and get shot by the Independence police in front of the book store. Hm. Betcha book sales would go through the roof.

I was listening to Cuban salsa this morning because of Reinaldo Arenas, and now I'm on some blues influences of Led Zeppelin stuff (courtesy of Lester Bangs). The room is spinning and I'm having to go back and corrrect the spelling on every damn sentence. (You see? There's no three R's in 'correct'). Wrestling comes on in about an hour and it'll give me some ideas on how to pull a heel turn with one of my best characters, turning them into a dirtbag before I wake up tomorrow and realize I can't do that. John Reinhard Dizon's characters are all about integrity, redemption and saving the world, right?

Have another gulp of syrup and call me in the morning.

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