tinhuvielartanis: (Dr. Who Boogie)
There is a theory in the Great Miasma of THINGS that anything that can happen, or was ever even thought about in passing, exists in some form. It may not exist in the reality in which we think we all currently reside, but exist it does.

I write this statement as if I am a scientist on the verge of proving this theory, but I am not; however, I am an individual who has experienced this phenomenon many times over throughout my life.

On the night of my 49th birthday, those odd occurrences that remind you that there is Something the Fuck Going On culminated in a concert that had been proclaimed for decades would never happen.

At the beginning of the year, it was announced on the official Electric Light Orchestra mailing list that Jeff Lynne would play three consecutive shows at the Hollywood Bowl on Septembers 9, 10, and 11, and to be on the lookout for the announcement for when the tickets went on sale, ‘cos they’d probably go quickly.

I wrote every friend I had to let them know, to see if anyone would be interested in seeing this concert enough to buy tickets, with me making arrangements for everything else, from travel to lodging to food.  One of my oldest friends and most fun faux musical nemesis, Andy, opted in.  Not long after, the tickets went on sale, and I went to work making arrangements, which included couch surfing with Brian, the man who plays the spoon-wielding demon, the Ginosaji, himself.

I got into town first, in amongst about 30 surly homeless people who were arguing with the police.  You gotta love Greyhound!  Making my way to the airport, I waited to Andy, fetched him, fetched the car, then off we went to Brian’s, who was just getting home himself.  He had weekend for luxury in the desert.  After a while of visiting, Brian gave us fierce hus and went off on his own adventure, leaving us to it.

After a late dinner at the House of Pies right down the street, Andy and I crashed for the night with tentative plans to explore some better known areas of the city – at least better known to us Gen X’ers – and soak up some architecture. 
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We kept a lot open, as Andy was still jet-lagged – yes it is thing! – and my ability to move around like a teenager was received by someone else when such superpowers were being handed out once upon a time.

Up early the next day, we went for pancakes (Andy) and eggs and tomato juice (me), then set to figuring out where we wanted to go and how we were going to get there.  GPS is a thing of wonder.
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Andy at Melrose Place (I think?!)

First was the Ennis House, which is closed to the public, but that doesn’t stop people from lurking up and down the winding road upon which it rests.  Although a famed Frank Lloyd Wright creation, it is also known for being the location for many movies, not the least of which is the original Vincent Price film, House on Haunted Hill.  Even though it only has two bedrooms and three bathrooms, the structure is huge.  It has some amazing windows, from what we could see from the road, and I simply fell in love with the gate.  There was a massive, heavy chain blocking the gate from the road, but that didn’t stop me from shimming underneath to get a blurry picture of LA through the intricate design.  There was a camera trained on that particular area, so I’m probably a wanted woman by now.  I don’t care.  Come get me.
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Afterward, we headed to the Griffith Observatory, but could find no place to park, so enjoyed the drive and scenery up, took a couple of pics , then back down, going next to another Frank Lloyd Wright home, the Hollyhock House. 
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There were no pictures allowed there, so I have no visual offerings to provide here.  Suffice it to say, the domicile is astounding, and I can see why the wealthy were so keen to have FLW design their homes back in the day.  I don’t think they’d be as prudent in this day and age, because of climate change, because the homes were certainly not designed for air conditioning; rather for maximum air flow throughout.  But, when the temps are higher and the air flow isn’t what it used to be, I’m think some rich people would be a bit surly with Mr. Wright.  I guess that’s one of the reasons why Hollyhock and, eventually, Ennis, are public landmarks rather than residences now.  Besides, who wants to ruin great architecture by doing anything other than restoring it?  Adding A/C seems almost sacrilegious. 
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Afterward, it was Pop Culture time, where Andy was hellbent on finding and eyeballing the Brady Bunch house.  Hey, don’t judge.  We were raised on this stuff!  A lot of it has changed, but you can still tell it’s the house.  We never saw anyone there, so I just assume the family were vacationing in Hawaii, battling cursed Tiki carvings.  Funny, I thought that was Paul Clemens job, or maybe he’s the one who carves them.  It’s not for me to say.  ::looks about shiftily::

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After all the driving about, we both needed a breather.  Andy was still seriously jet-lagged, and me being a hermit, I needed a mo or few away from the hustle and bustle.  We found a grocery and purchased a few things for ourselves and for Brian for later, and returned to the pad for a breather and regroup for a little while.  Time just flew.  Later, Andy was keen on some Italian food, so we walked down to a place called Palermo where Andy got a lasagna that could have fed a family of forty North Koreans, and I got a delightful lentil soup.

I called Paul when we got back to make arrangements to meet the next day.  We decided on House of Pies at 3 PM, as he had a film showing to attend in the area a little while after that, and we needed to be at the concert venue about an hour prior to the concert beginning.  All seemed in order.

We then crashed.  Hard.

Come 10 September.  Another early day, but we both seemed more energized than the day before.  Extended travel, no matter what form, can suck the life out of you like Cadmus Pariah snacking on the first two rows of an audience at a Magnificat concert.

On Paul’s suggestion, we ate at Mel’s Drive-In, which is a 50’s style diner in the style of Pulp Fiction, which was something Andy was jonesing to experience.  I opted for a Popeye’s Breakfast, a super vitamin/protein shake made of spinach, kale, beets, and parsley.
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Just a guess, but I’m thinking Andy was wondering what the draw vegetarianism has for me, so he ordered – and I may be wrong about the name – eggs verde.  It was primarily green in colour, with tomatoes, corn, soft-boiled eggs, and toast.  Even though he wasn’t impressed with the taste (non-vegetarians seems to need to get accustomed to the rich flavour and aroma meat can add to any dish), he later admitted to feeling really energized.  When food is no longer a major priority, taste isn’t that much of a thing, but fuel is.  I think it kept him going a lot long than the day before, and he admitted to not feeling as weighed down or as sluggish.  One note before I move on to our next adventure, Andy went down for coffee before we began our day, and spied a t-shirt in a window of cats in UFOs attacking dogs, which he had to have.  This comes into play later. 
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After breakfast, we drove downtown to stare menacingly at the Cecil Hotel, which is now called Stay on Main, but everyone still calls it the Cecil because of its notorious reputation.  Richard Ramirez and Jack Unterweger both stayed there whilst on their festive killing sprees.  Being one of those big honkin’ donkey Sith girl cowards, I was satisfied taking pictures from the car, but was fortunate enough to get pictures of the famed water tanks, one of which contained the two-week old body of Elisa Lam, whose decomposition made the hotel’s water black for a short time.  If you haven’t heard the strange story of Elisa Lam, you really should do yourself a favour (or disservice) by watching what happened with this unfortunate Canadian tourist, who thought it was a good idea to party in a bad part of town whilst staying at a hotel that offers amenities like hostel shared bathrooms and showers, and a death or two.
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Andy fell in love with the area.  He like grimy, gritty, sordid parts of cities.  But he’s male, and probably not as worried about ending up like the Black Dahlia.  Elizabeth Short had been to the Cecil when it was in better shape.  She was last seen at the Biltmore before reappearing later on, bisected, wearing a Glasgow smile, and bisected. 

Despite our long and deep friendship, Andy and I had radically different interests in the story of Los Angeles.  Our themes, other than meeting friends and basking in the glory that is Jeff Lynne, were architecture and gruesome happenings.  Opposites attract indeed. 

To be continued.
tinhuvielartanis: (Pensive)

Okay, y'all are probably gonna get sick and damned tired of this post, but it's one of the most important things in my life ever, so please be patient with me. I have spent 36 of my life waiting for this moment, which means I was just 12 years old when I discovered the genius that is Jeff Lynne. So here goes.

Hold on Tight to Your Dreams

Hello. My name is Tracy Angelina Evans, a long-time fanatic of Jeff Lynne/Electric Light Orchestra since 1980, who is, is thanks to one of my oldest and dearest friends, Andrew, and I are going to to go to the Hollywood Bowl concert in Los Angeles concert on my birthday, 10 September 2016. To see ELO growing up in the Southeast of the US, with little money to make long distances to get to the venues the band were playing, I never had the chance to see the band with their wonderous spaceship and special effects, especially for that day. Now that I am living in South Diego and one of my dearest and olded friends' bucket list is to attend a concert at the Hollywood Bowl, it woud seem that the stars are finally aligned to make mutual dream come true, as well as getting to see one another in many years. I will be turning 49 years old on September10th 2016, and wanting to seeing Jeff Lynne playing his greatest songs of all time since since the age 13, I can honestly say that this is is at the very top at my Bucket List.

In addition, Andy and I will have the honour of meeting the cast and crew of 'Ginosaji: The Horribly Slow Murderer with the Extremely Ineffiencent Weapon', all for whom I have promised drinks for the multitudinous abundance of laughter and joy they have brought me over the years, which means more than they can possibly conceive. I owe them too very much, upon facing some of the bleakest time of my life.

So that said, living on a fixed income, it would be an incredible amount of help for my friends to assist me in a decent tee shirt and and some souvenir fundage to make one the most important moments of my life, as well as help to offer thanks and appreciation to my best friend Andrew and my new incredible friends the Ginosaji posse, who are intent on persisting again, again, and again!

As soon as I can start acquire the moneys, the more appreciated. I hate having to ask for help in this way, but if it weren't one of my most important moments in my life, I would not be asking. And I promise that, if I can reciprocate in the future, you can can count on me.

Loss

Apr. 25th, 2016 04:02 pm
tinhuvielartanis: (Hickey Monster)
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Last Tuesday, I officially ended an almost 30-year friendship that unofficially ended when I was thrown into grief over losing Aunt Tudi.  It would seem that suicidal depression and self-isolation clears the room every damned time.  I’m not saying anything further about it, because there’s nothing more to say, except for one thing.  The friendship could often be very toxic but, because of who we were and how we were treated before we met, the two of us always ended up back together.  It won’t happen this time.  There are too many miles, tears, and life-changes between us now.  I will miss him but, honestly, I’ve been missing him since he moved across the country back in the 90s.  It’s time to accept the inevitable.

In other loss news, I’m still reeling over the death of Prince.  From the moment I heard and saw him in the Controversy video, I was in love with his music and in lust with him.  From 1981 until his death, that never changed, and it never will.  After so many losses of beloved musicians so far this year (fuck you, 2016.  fuck you hard.), I’m pretty much walking around in a combination of stunned grief and abject fear.  Why the fear?  Well, there’s Shriekback, Barry Andrews and Carl Marsh in particular, with whom I’ve developed a good friendship/acquaintance and a fine working relationship over the years.  Then there’s Jeff Lynne, who’s resurrected ELO I’m supposed to finally get to see in concert after ages of dreaming.  If any of them passES this year, I’m going to lose my fucking shit.  I’m not exaggerating here.  I can barely handle thinking and writing about it.

tinhuvielartanis: (Torquemada)

I haven’t done one of these in about 10,000 years, so let’s get this show on the road.



This is all true. photo 1264091_10153348891685721_288267917_o.jpg1. Full name: Tracy Angelina Evans
2. Nicknames: Tin, Tinhuviel, George, Darth Shriek
3. Birthplace: Asheville, North Carolina USA
4. Birthday: 10 September, 1967
5. Where Do You Live Now?: San Diego, California
6. Parent(s): Father Unit has passed.  Mother Unit is here in San Diego.
7. Sibling(s): ZERO
8. Looks: Better off invisible.
9. Favourite Animal(s): Anything non-human, except for millipedes and centipedes.  Like humans, they can go fuck themselves.
10. Favorite TV Show(s): Impractical Jokers, Better Call Saul



11. Favorite Kind(s) Of Music: Most everything but Country and Opera.
12. Favorite Movie(s): Sci-Fi, Unusual, Conceptual, Foreign
13. School: Some college, focusing on English and Veterinary Assistance
14. Future School: I’m too old for this question. The Chapel Perilous

15. Future Job: Testing new, effective sleep aids.
16. Boyfriend/Girlfriend: nah
17. Best Buds: I’m a bit of a hermit these days.
18. Favorite Candy: Milk Dud
19. Hobbies: Music, reading, writing
20. Things You Collect: Grudges, CDs, movies, moments in time.



21. Do You Have A Personal Phone Line: Yes
22. Favorite Body Part Of The Opposite Sex? The eyes and brain
23. Any Tattoos And Where Of What?: Red & Black Triskele on right hand, Green Shriekback logo on left hand, Mwanza Flat-headed Agama with green and blue hues instead of pinkish and blue.
24. Piercing(s) And Where?: not anymore
25. What Do You Sleep in?: clothing
26. Do you like Chain Letters: aw HELL NAW.
27. Best Advice: Reality is peripheral.
28. Favorite Quotes: Hope for the best, expect the worst. - Mel Brooks.
29. Non-sport Activity You Enjoy: sleep
30. Dream Car: A transporter



31. Favorite Thing To Do In Spring: Avoid the sun.
32. What’s Your Bedtime: Whenever I’m lucky.
33. Where Do You Shop: Wherever I can.
34. Coke or Pepsi: Cheerwine

35. Favorite Thing(s) To Wear?: Something loose that will allow me to blend into my surroundings.
36. Favorite Subject(s) In School: English and Creative Writing

37. Favorite Color(s): Green, Red, Black
38. Favorite People To Talk To Online: People with brains and a wicked sense of humour that has set them on the road to Hell.

39. Root-Beer or Dr. Pepper? Root beer

40. Do You Shave? I’m too old for that bullshit.




41. Favorite Vacation Spot(s): I don’t do vacations.  My favourite place to BE is England.
42. Favorite Family Member(s): Smidgen
43. Did You Eat Paint Chips When You Were a Kid? WHAT?
44. Favorite CD you own: Currently Without Real String or Fish by Shriekback
45. The ONE Person Who You Hate The Most: Going with an old standard here and saying Pat Robertson.
46. Favorite Food(s)?: Potatoes
47. Who Is The Hottest Guy or Girl In The World?: I have a very short list.
48. What Is Your Favorite Salad Dressing?: Bleu Cheese.
49. When You Die, Do You Wanna Be Buried or Burned Into Ashes? I don’t care, as long as I end up on Craggy Dome.
50. Do You Believe In Aliens?: Absolutely.








51. If You Had The Chance To Professionally Do Something, What would You Do? I’m already a Professional Misanthropist.
52. Things You Obsess Over: Various artists, ideas, philosophies, theories, general weirdness
53. Favorite Day of the Week: Don’t bloody care.
54. An Authority Figure You Hate: The Feudal Mistress still tops the list.
55. Favorite Disney Movie: Bambi
56. What Is Your Favorite Season? Winter
57. What Toppings Do You Like On Your pizza? Cheese, with extra cheese, and cheese on the side.
58. Do You Like Your School Food Itself (As In The District Food): I never ate it.
59. If You Could Live Anywhere, Where Would You Live? Avebury, Wiltshire, UK
60. Favorite Thing(s) To Do On Weekends: Sleep, if I can accomplish it.







61. Favorite Magazine(s): Don’t have one.
62. Favorite Flower(s): White rose

63. Favorite Number(s): 5

64. Favorite Ice Cream flavor(s): Ben & Jerry’s Wavy Gravy

65. What Kind of Guys/Girls Are You Attracted to?: Dangerously intelligent, beautiful, talented, and hilarious.

66. What’s Your Most Embarrassing Moment? I inadvertently introduced myself to someone as his wife.

67. If You Could Change One Thing About Yourself What Would It be? I would be fearless.

68. Do You Eat Breakfast First Then Brush Your Teeth or Brush first ten eat breakfast: breakfast first.

69. Favorite Time of Day: Whenever I get to sleep.

70. Can A Guy and Girl Be Just “Best Friends?”: Why not?



71. Do You Ask The Girl/Guy Out Or Do You Wait For Them To Come To You?: I don’t go there anymore.

72. Do You Mind Paying For Sex? I never would.

73. What’s The Most Important thing In Someone’s Personality: Sentience

74. Do you have a pager or cell phone? Cell

75. Favorite Sport: Flambodious Butt-walking

76. What Was the Best Gift You Ever Received? Love

77. How Long Did This Letter Take You To Finish?: Not very long.

78. What Did You Listen To While Completing It?: Electric Light Orchestra’s Alone in the Universe.

79. Are you or would you like to be married in the near future (next 5 years)? NEGATIVE

80. Don’t u just hate how psychics never win the lottery? I hate it more than I don’t win the lottery. I hate psychics, especially the ones who claim to talk to your dead relatives.  They’re grifters who should be drawn and quartered.  The End.

tinhuvielartanis: (Can't Stop Writing)

Things have been going on, so this may be a bit of an update from Hell, compared to my usually non-updates.

 

First off, my phone has been on the fritz for who knows how long.  It’s not actually the phone, but the Cricket network.  I went yesterday to try to sort it, but the folks at the store couldn’t even troubleshoot it, so they had to put in a service order, which means up to 72 more hours of no service.

 

Since the first of the year, my health has been shite.  Recurring migraines with the most vicious nausea I think I’ve ever had, has beaten down my body more than I could have ever imagined.  In the past month, I have lost 10 pounds, and spent three days in the hospital, thanks to these fucking headaches.  I’m thinner now than I have been since I was 12 years old.  It has gotten to the point where I can’t even walk to the bathroom, which is right beside my room, without my having breathing difficulties and a pounding heart.  I feel like I am dying.

 

But, I might get to tick one thing off my bucket list before heading into the Void, if I’m lucky.  Jeff Lynne is bringing ELO back to the American stage on September 9th, 10th, and 11th of this year, at the Hollywood Bowl. When it was announced, I emailed a bunch of people with a proposition that, if they could get the tickets, I’d try to arrange us a place to stay.  My old high school friend, Andy, has always dreamt of attending a concert at the Hollywood Bowl, and he bit.  We’re just waiting for the tickets to go on sale, if I can’t finagle them earlier than 1 May.  The target day is September 10th, as that’s the best day for Andy.  It’s also my birthday, which would be perfect.

 

Speaking of Jeff Lynne, David Bowie’s unexpected and untimely death made me come to grips with a truth I’ve known for a long time, but never truly verbalised, even to myself.  I decided to accept it and to come out, to use the term in a wholly different manner.  I wrote Barry Andrews and told him that he was the single most influential individual in my life, more so even than even the godlike Jeff Lynne and JRR Tolkien.  I wanted him to know it, in the event either of us kicks the bucket.  You should tell people how they affect you before it’s too late.  It could be too late in the next five minutes.  No one knows what each second will bring.  No one.

 

A few weeks ago, there was a huge shake-up in the format of the Work in Progress that officially made it into a full-fledged novel in the works instead of a collection of short stories.  I don’t even know what brought it to mind, guessing it had to be some kind of divine inspiration.  The long and short of it, though, is that Flint steals the New Hive’s first - and currently only - relic, Cadmus Pariah’s Harming Tree.  The story will revolve around Cadmus hunting down Flint, with possible help from Orphaeus Cygnus, and will include the stories and vignettes I have already written about the Harming Tree.  As The Blood Crown was essentially a Vampiric Hope & Crosby Road movie in book form, The Harming Tree will be a bit of a book version of a hunt and chase movie, kind of in the vein of Mad Max: Fury Road and the like.  I have asked Barry if he could drum up a photo of his harming tree, which is seen only briefly in the ‘Captain Cook’ video, and is obviously the benign inspiration, despite its name, for Cadmus’ dreadful tool of agony.  It would be good to have a very clear image reference as I continue this mad journey into the Darkness.  I need to jog his memory, though, as it’s been two or three months since I asked him.  I’m sure he’s forgotten, and I keep forgetting to remind him.  We are old as fuck.

 

The end.

tinhuvielartanis: (AndyBarry)
Everyone should friend Jack.  He's good people.

Originally posted by [livejournal.com profile] beheretinnitus at Do people still frenzy for friendsies here?
Hello, LiveJournal!

My name is Jack and I used to hang out here on the regular. I am so burnt out by the newer social media sites and thought I might return, all prodigal son-like.

I live in Memphis, TN with my girlfriend and our kids (kitty and human alike). I am a 20-plus year musician and have recorded a lot of stuff that lingers in relative obscurity.

I am also a podcaster now, with my five episode-strong music series Be Here Tinnitus. It's on iTunes - have a listen!

As you can infer, I really love music, but I also love lots of other geeky things.

Wanna be friends?

Batchfile

Jan. 21st, 2016 04:43 pm
tinhuvielartanis: (Hickey Monster)
After a short battle with brain cancer, longtime LiveJournaler [livejournal.com profile] batchfile succumbed to cancer and chemo-related complications. I'm not sure if it happened yesterday or today, but as soon as I know, I'll update this post.

It would seem that 2016 is sucking rhino balls when it comes to decent people dying, and leaving pieces of shit to horrify us more with every passing day.

The End

Dec. 31st, 2015 08:44 pm
tinhuvielartanis: (Darth Geek)

And so we have arrived at the threshold of yet another year, four cycles after the long hoped for Alpaca Lips.  In some ways, it has been an eventful year and, in others, things have barely changed.  I figured I'd touch on the highlights of 2015, then throw some hopes (gasp, hope?  Tin?  NOOOOOO!) out for 2016.  So, let's begin.

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The first major thing that happened in 2015 came in February, when I was allowed unprecedented liberties to continue and expand my campaign to disseminate All Things Shriekback.  I was elated, for I had watched for too long their greatness be swallowed up by the ever-expanding Internet, without the proper tools in my box of toys to make enough digital noise to be noticed.  That changed prior to the release of one of their best albums to date, Without Real String or Fish.  To my immense joy, this was only one of many releases by the band that I got to relentlessly plug throughout the year.  It's been an honour to do what I could for the guys, and I will continue to do what I do until they tell me to stop!

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In April, another wonderful thing occurred:  I got to go up to Los Angeles to attend Jeff Lynne's Hollywood Walk of Fame star ceremony.  Even though I didn't get to meet him - again! - I was still thrilled to be in the general vicinity of my spiritual and musical godfather, and listen to him talk a little about his career and how honoured he felt to be getting the praise and attention that has long been due the man.  He's a genius, and I am overjoyed that people are finally catching on to this fact.  It also heartens me that so many Millennials, particularly in the music world, are embracing Mr. Lynne and his music.  That means that his legacy will live on through the generations, as long as humanity plagues this world.  It almost makes me glad we're all still around.  Anyway, also in attendance to the star ceremony, making speeches of their own about how groovy Jeff Lynne is, were Tom Petty and Joe Walsh.  I caught this epic photo before the brouhaha began.   

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And it got even better later in the year, in November, when Jeff Lynne released Alone in the Universe, the first official ELO album since the release of Zoom in 2001.  I'm currently listening to it for the first time but, hey! better late than never, right?  2015 was the year both Shriekback and the Electric Light Orchestra gave the world new music.  If for no other reason, this year should be marked as a complete success because of this.

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Shortly before I moved out to San Diego, my TV died.  For a while, I was pretty miserable, until I got used to watching streaming formats online, like Netflix.  It cut down on my viewing habits considerably, and I found myself focusing on just the movies and shows I personally found important and worthy enough to spend my time watching.  Beginning in late 2014, though, my number one go-to place for instant entertainment gratification became You Tube.  I discovered Alonzo LeroneGarret John, and a host of other talents, visionaries, and creatives.  In June of 2015, though, I stumbled upon a short film that completely blew my mind. It's what made me realise how grateful I am to no longer have a television. I probably would have never discovered such brilliance had I still been enslaved to the mediocrity that spews out of the boob tube.

When I first saw The Horribly Slow Murderer with the Extremely Inefficient Weapon, I had a reaction eerily similar to what I had upon seeing The Joker Blogs' Therapy Begins.  I couldn't get enough!  Impressed didn't even begin to cover it.  The more I watched it and the related films on Richard Gale's You Tube channel, the more I laughed.  As anyone who has known me since losing Aunt Tudi in 2011 knows, laughter is something I treasure above all other things.  I credit anything that could cut through the grief and trigger laughter as holding a seed of the miraculous within its heart.  The Impractical Jokers were the first to make what I thought was impossible happen.  The Horrible Slow Murderer carried on that life-saving tradition.  

I was so impressed with the undeniable talent in this short film and others on the channel, like the wholly unfunny and horrifying Criticized, I was compelled to learn more about the film maker and his posse.  Employing the web search skills I learned in the Pit oh so very long ago, it didn't take me long to learn a good bit about the director and actors Paul Clemens and Brian Rohan.  

Well, one thing led to another, and I ended up helping them with their Kickstarter campaign, after having the pleasure of discussing a few promo ideas with Richard one Sunday a few months ago.  During this time, I've come to see that not only are these guys uber-talented, but they are also genuine, groovy, insightful, kind individuals.  How could anyone not want to help people like this in any way they can?

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While all this was happening, I was going to the doctor about my back pain, which seemed to be getting worse despite all attempts to reverse the issues causing it.  The doc finally suggested that I look into getting an panniculectomy.  Now, in South Carolina, no insurance, private or public, would cover anything considered cosmetic.  When I got the gastric bypass surgery, I went into it with no pipe dreams of getting any excess skin removed.  It was never an option, so I never entertained the idea.

When the doctor brought up the panniculectomy, I silently scoffed, but decided "what the hell?  It doesn't hurt to ask."  So, a couple of days later, I called Aetna and asked them if such a surgery were covered.  They informed me that, if it were considered medically necessary, they would cover it, and all I would have to pay would be $264.00.  I called the doctor, who referred me to Dr. Jason Hess.  He took pictures, informed me that he'd gotten approval for surgeries with less severe pannus issues, and said he'd be asking approval for not just a panniculectomy, but also an abdominoplasty which, combined, are basically the human equivalent to being cleaned like a fish.

In two weeks time, Aetna gave the go ahead, and I had a tummy tuck and panniculectomy in September.  I'm still recovering from it, but my back does feel better after no longer having to deal with 17 pounds of dead weight constantly pulling on my lower lumbar region.  Also, for the first time in my life, I actually have a figure.  I'm still not used to the new body.  It's like living in an alien biological construct.

So, 2015 saw me become a bit of a California stereotype in that I got plastic surgery and began "hobnobbing" with Hollywood directors and actors.  Folks, don't expect that, if you're thinking of planning on moving to California.  Bear in mind that I live in the Twilight Zone and have no idea how shit like this happens to me.

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One more cool thing that happened this year actually happened this month.  After over a year of struggling with it, I finally had a breakthrough in my arduous Wacom education.  I still have a very long way to go before I consider anything I do with the tablet worthy of pride, but at least I'm finally seeing results from what I have so far learned.  This is the result - the best representation of how I see Cadmus Pariah in my mind's eye.  I plan on making this a full body picture, not just a floating head of death, but I thought I should make note that my obvious learning disability when it comes to digital art has at long last had a wee chink taken out of its seemingly impenetrable wall.

There have been some unhappy things to happen this year - conflicts with Matt, friends falling prey to illness, seriously fucked up news on the family front, among other things - but I am choosing not to focus on that in this year-end post.  There is nothing I could write here that would change any of these things, and I frankly don't want to give the bad areas of 2015 any more power than they already have.  I would prefer to give energy to more positive outcomes in those categories in the coming year. 

That being said, here are some things I'm hoping to see happen and/or make happen in 2016.

  • Friends and family beat the odds and kick all manner of ass with some insane Health Fu.
  • The Presidential election does not turn out to be a disaster of mega-Fascist proportions.
  • People collectively reject the status quo and embrace a higher vibrational state of being.
  • There is full disclosure on extraterrestrial life and activities, as well as extra-dimensional life and activities.
  • Jeff Lynne plays a concert in San Diego and I get to attend.
  • I can eventually feel as comfortable riding the buses in San Diego as I was riding the ones in Los Angeles. LA makes a lot more sense as far as layout is concerned.  Or maybe that's just me.
  • Yoga becomes a part of my everyday life.
  • Barry Andrews has more delightful written and musical works of art in store for the world.
  • I complete my latest book and maybe even publish it.
  • The filming of Ginosaji goes smoothly and is a low-stress joy for all involved.
  • I get to go to the desert to gaze at the Milky Way at least once in 2016.
  • I and those I love are surrounded by non-toxic individuals and that we can continue to expand the influence of beauty, creativity, common sense, and divine madness.
  • The Alpaca Lips finally happens.

Here's hoping everyone has a fantastic new year.  May it be visionary in every way.

tinhuvielartanis: (Spork)

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So here am I, spooning tiny bites of Stove Top Stuffing into my piehole, and trying to watch Boogie Nights for the umpteenth time around Smidgen’s wide, hairy butt.  Another Thanksgiving winding down.

After Halloween, Thanksgiving was always my favourite.  It seemed less stressful than Christmas.  I still feel that way, even though I really don’t do anything, and haven’t since 2011.  But I do want to send some shoutouts of gratitude into the aether, so here goes.


  • I’m thankful for my friends. ff.pngYou all know who you are, both old and new Tribespeople.  Those of you who have been with me for a while  have stuck by me when even some family chose not to.  You’ve been with me longer than anyone else in my life now.  And my new friends, though thin on the ground, have opened up new avenues to experience, exhibited goodness and decency that threaten to prove my theories about our species dead wrong.  All of you:  Despite my dedicated misanthropy, you still love me just as I am, and I am happy to reciprocate.  When we are facing the Alpaca Lips, I hope we get to do it together.


  • I’m thankful for the Earth. It has been quite a year, as far as space exploration has gone, but I find it incredible that we still have so much about our home planet that needs to be discovered, explored, and possibly explained.  With every dim twinkle of light far beyond our comprehension of just how really fucking large the multiverse is, there is an equal twinkle far beneath the churning seas, something we’ve never been able to see, something even the angler fish, who can twinkle themselves, would be afraid to examine too extensively.The Earth is where we open our eyes each day.  Instead of casting those eyes to your feet as you go through the motions that are expected of you, cast them outward.  Not upward, but around you.  Everything that you are is star stuff, yes, but that stuff chose to touch down on a world that both nurtures and destroys us.  We owe it to ourselves, to one another, and to our home planet to try to find out why, before it’s too late.  Even if it’s all a hologram and we are not truly physical entities on the surface of a planet, it’s all we currently have, and it is a wondrous construct, so full of mystery and music.  I’m glad to have been able to see what I have of this world.


  • I am thankful for the music.jlshriek.png  It has been a truly resplendent year in music for me.  I got to see Jeff Lynne get his star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame, and watch him perform live (on TV) for the first time in over a decade.  I’m foaming at the mouth to get my ears on the new ELO album.  Then there’s Shriekback, who has dominated my musical choices for yet another year, giving fans both old and new, the triumph that is Without Real String or Fish, not to mention all the rarities, reissues, and side-project material.  I have long contended that, as long as the Shrieks make music, I will be “doomed” to write, and my friends will be doomed to read, or say they did!  Even earlier today, I was constructing a possible chapter in the WIP, based on a Shriek rarity, ‘Shake the Big Tree’.






  • I am thankful for laughter. As all my older friends know, I’ve been a bit of a laughter junkie since 2011.  Laughter is the human purr.  It’s present when we’re happy, and it can heal when we’re sad.  daffyporky.gifBeing a devout believer in Jessica Rabbit Syndrome, I would have to say that laughter is the most important thing in this reality, especially when you are more than underwhelmed about trudging forth, but trudge nonetheless because you have responsibilities.  If something makes me laugh, its therapeutic qualities are far from lost on me.  So, to all the things and people that have gotten me through 2015 by making me laugh like a demented Vizzini, I am quite grateful for it all.



And there you have it.  Short and simple.  I tried to be as upbeat and uncomplicated as possible.  I gotta go outside for a few minutes, ‘cos it’s raining, and that shit’s rare here.  Happy T-Day, freaks.  May the Dark Side of the Force Be with you.

tinhuvielartanis: (Bellatrix)

I am kind of freaking out right now.  At the age 5, I was enrolled in 1st grade, at which time I was swiftly and truly schooled by my classmates.  I was not normal.  Period.  I wasn't allowed to dance to music like I'd always done before, without getting called names and being laughed at.  My teacher gave me a time out for not being able to recite the Lord's Prayer, and when we were supposed to play games that called for teams, there was team A and team "Shit, she's the only one left."  It was apparent, in no uncertan terms, that nothing about me was normal.  And since my family moved around a lot, I wasn't normal at any school, so it had to be me, not them.  I was given the advice to ignore it and they'd eventually go away, but they didn't. This ended, for the most part, while I was working at BMG, when I finally lost it on some asshole at J Records I was forced to work with.  I had one more incident of bullying behaviour just yesterday, and I reacted viciously. To be honest, I can't remember everything that happened there, but I think I just on that thin line that separates verbal confrontation from physical altercation.  Thirty-two (non-consecutive) years of bullying boiled up in my body, and I just fucking exploded.  But I'm not here to talk about bullying.  It seems I've done a lot of that since I've been on the Internet, and finding others like myself.  The Island of Misfit Toys is a real place on Teh Intarwebz, located a little further north-west of Dr. Moreau's Island, and separated from Fantasy Island by the Sea of Dreams (yes, we can see y'all from from our winders).  Enough of that, though.  Let's get down to bidness.

I'm here to talk about feeling paranormally different since waking up on the 14th.  The doctor said he removed 17 pounds of excess skin, fat, and other crap that wouldn't have ever otherwise gone away.  I'm talking about hearing the nurse softly say in my ear, "breathe deeply", and then I woke up with parts of my body that have always been part of me since I began to gain more weight than other kids my age, at four years.  The midsection of my stomach is mostly flat, but the lower part, the part that hangs down to your thighs when you stand, and makes you think that you have no lap whatsoever when you sit down - - well, it is gone.  Totally fucking gone.  Working on my computer has even changed, because my stomach was my prop, so I could work on my writing, promotions, and blogging while Smidgen curled up on my chest or upper abdomen.  Now, I'm having dificulty trying to find a decent computer spot, so I can write this.  I feel as though, if I were back east with the friends I have, I would hear them whisper about me not being me, reinacting one of the earlier scenes of Invasion of the Bodysnatchers.

On 14 September whilst waiting to be rolled back to the operating room, I was lying on my back with my elbow and hands touching the mattress, or I had my fingers interlocked on my midsection, and my elbows just dangled at each side.  If I wanted to put my arms at my side, then my elbows could touch the mattress, but my fingers wouldn't meet.  I couldn't do both and I never could.  It was just a fact of life for me, even after the gastric bypass surgery in 2004. Now, my elbows can rest on the bed and my fingers can interlock at the same time.  The Mother Unit was amused that my discovery of this amazed me so much.  I know that doesn't sound like much, but when you've never been able to do it before, it's kind of a thing.  The effect on my lower back was nearly instantaneous.  A lot of that pull is gone, which was the main purpose for asking to get the procedures in the first place.  Total success, right there.  Despite currently feeling as though I have been thrown into the Iron Maiden at an Iron Maiden concert, my back already doesn't hurt as much, and I'm hoping the pain will continue to wane as I heal.  I can feel the difference in my knees as well.

Psychologically, the immediate effect has not been as positive as I would have liked, but that's not the doctor's fault. Everything he did was exactly the procedures he signed on to do, and he did them expertise.  The thing for me, though, was that I went to sleep in the body I'd had for around 32 years, and I woke up a stranger to myself.  I'm not doing as well as perhaps I should in respect to mentally catching up to the physical tranformation.  There are differences you would never think of, such as, seeing my own "cho-cha" (thank you, Missy Elliott) for the very first time in my entire life.  Only a few hours after the surgery has over, I learned the women's cho-chas were supposed to look like this.  It is still quite a surprise, because most laypeople or medical personnel would never think that such a change would be shockingly phantasmagoric.  It's as though the doctor pulled everything up.  From now on, whenever I see some crazy person in the park talking down her/his pants, I'm going to wonder if they had a panniculectomy and abdominoplasty.  Such a shock to the visual senses is bizarre and unsettling.  On the other hand, I might be that homeless crazy person taking to her own privates sooner than later.

I was told that the surgery took hours because the doctor wanted to be as thorough as possible while he was working. Based on some of the surgery pictures he'd shown me during our consultation, I have no doubt he was thorough.  In fact, I think he did more than was authorised, probably because he knew I might need it down the road. I was already dead to the world, so why not? After a little bit of online research, what little time I've been online, I'm thinking that that extra something was some liposuction, considering I have two balls that catch the bloody water draining out of me, and bruises that just won't quit on my lower stomach, thighs, and cho-cha. Everything is relatively level now.  I had fatty bits on my back that are gone now, too. After all this heals I will appear to be, more or less, like someone carrying a few extra pounds, but nothing people would gawk or throw vomit fat jokes in her direction.

My entire dieting life, I was told to chant the mantra "there's a thin person inside me that yearns to get out!"  I was conditioned to dislike everything about me that anyone could see, while striving to look like the ones who are always at the front of the line to get their kick in before the day over. I was filled with a hell of a lot of animosity by the time I was approved for gastric bypass surgery, so much so that I had before and after pictures taken in the event someone told me I looked good.  My plan was to whip those pictures out and ask them what they thought now!  Over a time, especially when Aunt Tudi's health started to decline, I just grew weary of my verbal fight with society, and just gave up on avenging the evil so quantumly ingrained in us all by this mockery of our exsistence.

But, the other day, I was told it was good to see me, a "much thinner" me.  I didn't say anything then, because I've been feeling like every hell imagined in every dimension that could currently be calculated by any Physics Academic, and to be perfectly frank, I did not want to be in a tiff, or what have you.  Now, I'm a tad concerned that, in my heart, I know I may throat punch anyone who has ever known or seen me prior to the surgeries, but still comes out with that programmed bullshit, especially if they refer to having surgies to assist me lose the weight that was killing me as "taking the easy way out."  I am not above going all Jack Torrance with an ax on any motherfucker who crosses that line, and thanks to those oh so very easy surgeries and recoveries that were alllll done for cosmetic reasons and nothing else, I'm lighter, limberer, and enthusiastically motivated to shut you up by ripping your jaw bone off your stupid brainless head and feeding it to Toby. Strangers who do not know me will get you one free pass but, if a stranger proving how much of a douche nozzle they are by judging another within my earshot may very well end up in an intimate relationship with my shoes and elbows.  I haven't forgotten all the Kung Fu I was taught, and I'll probably be able to do them better now.  You can be my practice.

The flesh a person is in, is not that person, but it can affect them in unimaginable ways.  I feel like a stranger in a strange land now.  I can't quite grasp the extent of my aura.  Toby caught a glimpse of mm the other day, and barked at me as though I were a stranger.  I'm wondering how Smidge will handle seeing her new old bed, unimpressed that it no longer has the cushioning she requires.  I can get around things a bit easier, but still move like I need to squeeze, and that makes me look like I'm up to no good.  I had some of these issues with the first surgery, but the effects came much more slowly, so my adjustments were more easily accepted.  This time, not so much.  Not even after the gastric bypass did I have a figure.  Now that I do, I don't look right.

But just because I'm struggling doesn't mean I've lost one iota of my venom for humanity as a whole.  Once built, or stolen, I can just shoot my lethal laser gun at the global urban centers while wearing some dumbass latex cat suit.

FUCK THE WORLD


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Love, Tin

PS: If you find any spelling or grammatical mistakes in this, chalk it up to unbridled anger combined with full body pain. Thank you.

tinhuvielartanis: (Here is the news!)
Dancing-Groot.gifVery early this morning, I checked my GoFundMe page and, upon seeing the current amount in my account, I turned into Groot.

In a measley six days, my GoFundMe campaign of shameless begging for help so I can get through  my upcoming surgery and post-op expenses, a merry band of do-gooders surpassed my goal of $500.  Even though it doesn't appear to be so, I have just over $525 for the upcoming health and shelter gauntlet.  A couple of folks opted to use PayPal instead of the GoFundMe site; thus, the difference.

As I said when I originally posted my campaign, $500 will prevent my going into any more deficit and will help set Toby and Smidgen up with their proper medications and food for the duration of my absence.  It will also pay my portion of the surgery bill, which is $264, gas for Angie's car and any other expenses accrued by my presence in her home.  It's still gonna be an uber-tight squeeze, so I'm keeping the campaign up until Monday morning, right before I head out to the surgery center.

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To all of you who contributed to this cause, I want to thank you from the bottom of my heart.  I get distressed when I have to ask for help, especially financially.  It stems from my childhood almost instantly after the parental units divorced.

Essentially homeless with nothing but the clothes on my back, I found myself, along with Aunt Tudi and Granny, at the mercy of others who openly resented the situation in which we all found ourselves.  Because of that, self-suffiency was of the utmost importance to me.  Having my health pack its bags and leave town irreparably damaged that self-suffiency.

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But you guys didn't grouse at me or make me feel like Heel #1 for asking for help.  You just helped, and that's a gift whose importance I can't properly express.  All I can do is say thank you, and file this experience in my Why Tribe Is More Cherished Than Family.

So, with all that said, please enjoy the dancing Moss and Roy, as well as the inimitable James Stewart and Donna Reed dancing as though the cops are shooting at their feet.  This is a perfect example of how y'all have made me feel the past few days.

Again, thank you.  Someday, and I'd rather it be sooner than later, I hope I can help all of you in some capacity.  It would be the very least I could do.



tinhuvielartanis: (Hot Damn!)

Making a List and Checking It Twice

Then I check it again.  And again.  And again and again and again.  No, I am not the Ginosaji, but I think I may have discovered why my memory has become a cess pool of forgetfulness over the past few years.

Earlier today, I went to the Imaging Healthcare site to confirm my EEG w/Sleep Deprivation test for Tuesday morning.  My neurologist wanted me to have the test before my surgery date.  While I was on my portal at Imaging Healthcare, I found the test results for my many procedures, dating as far back as October, 2013.  I clicked the report generated from my MRI of last year.  According to the physician who examined the imagery, there is nothing that would indicate why I have seizures and migraines; however, he made note that I have "Mild Diffuse Cortical Atrophy."  What exactly is that?

It means that a portion of my brain cells have dropped dead.  It seems to be relatively common in people who suffer from migraines, which I have all my life, except for that nice extended break in my late 20s.  The primary symptom of this condition is forgetfulness, because it is a form of dementia.  To experts' knowledge, the condition does not cause seizures, but it can cause you to stand at the fridge with the door open, wondering why they hell you'd come into the kitchen in the first place.  The thing is, though, is that cortical atrophy is mainly associated with elderly people.  

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It's a natural part of growing old; however, it can also indicate dementia and the beginnings of Alzheimers Disease.  I just approached an online doctor about it.  Hopefully, my questions will be answered, despite my not subscribing to the 'Ask a Doctor' website.  If I had the money, I might, but people who are running GoFundMe campaigns because their medical situation is guaranteeing they won't make ends meet in any conceivable way tend not to shove their debit card in a virtual doctor's face and shriek TAKE MY MONEY!, especially when said persons are going back to their neurologist for the EEG results sooner rather than later.  It would be frivolous and unresponsible to pay to have my question answered, when I can barely pay attention for being so broke.  Then again, maybe I can't pay attention because my brain is dying in increments.  Whatever.  At any rate, here's what I wrote to the "Emergency Medical Hologram" (Geek points to those who get that):

Since 2008, I've been having grand mal seizures.  I was 41 at the time.  They're well under control with the dosage of Keppra I'm on, and my neurologist keeps a close eye on me, doing annual tests and having me keep a diary of my migraine headaches.  I'm due to go for another EEG with sleep deprivation next week.  As I was setting up my appointment for a bone density scan ordered by my OB/GYN, I noticed that I could access the results of my previous tests, one of which was the MRI my neurologist ordered last year.  Everything appeared normal except that I exhibited "Mild Diffuse Cortical Atrophy."  Is this normal for a 47-year-old?  From what I have read, it's an age-related issue that could be nothing, especially if you are a senior citizen, although it could mean you might have the beginnings of Alzheimers.  For the past four years, I have struggled with memory issues.  It often takes me three times longer to do things because I keep forgetting what it is I need to do next to complete whatever project I'm working on.  My longterm memory seems relatively okay, but I'm constantly having to retrace my steps to make certain I'm doing or have done what I need to at any given moment.  Should I be especially concerned about this, or am I just well on my way to joining AARP?

For now, I'm going to try to not let that report worry me, since I need to focus what rudimentary mental ability I still have to the task of preparing for this surgery and the subsequent week or so of recovery.  This next week is going to be busy, what with my pre-op visit and EEG, both of which are on Tuesday, then a surgery consult with my pain doctor, since she's the one who has to oversee the pain management after the procedure.  Those are the only two days I need to leave the house, which is great, because I need to begin sorting what clothing I need to take to Angie and Cierra's, gather up any connectivity cords and my extra surge protector, and prepare my room for Matt and the Mother Unit.  While I'm gone, they're going to clean up Syd & Nancy's cage and paint, among other things.  I also need to write out instructions on what Smidgen and Toby need and are used to getting, as well as draw a diagram of puppy pad placement.  Since Toby has been on Prednisone, he's become a peeing machine.  Most of the time, I get him out in time enough, but there will always be incidents, so I keep the carpet covered with the protection, but there's a certain way it needs to be done to reduce the amount of pads used while still being a flawless barrier between the carpet and Toby's cho-cha.  Thanks to the help I have so far received, I've been able to get another box of puppy pads, to ensure the Mother Unit does not run out of them.

After I have the instructions written out to my satisfaction, I need to write out some semblance of a will.  I want to make certain that I am not intubated or put on life support of any kind, should something go wrong during the surgery.  Also, I'm keen on bequeathing certain things to certain people.  Nothing I have is of any monetary worth, but there are some things that mean more than mere money.  I also want to have some sort of arrangements made for Toby and Smidgen, should I die, and I'm going to request that my ashes be taken to Craggy Dome on the Blue Ridge Parkway in Asheville.  I doubt my wishes will be adhered to, but I have to state it, just in case.  Getting my document witnessed and notarised has already been made possible, thanks to your generosity.

Later on in the week, I plan on zipping up to Oceanside to spend the day with Angie and Cierra.  San Diego transit isn't just for the city proper, but for the entire county, so I can take various buses and trolleys to make it up there to them.  I'm looking forward to the journey and to seeing those crazy Oceanside chicks.  What I'm planning is to go up and go shopping for some of the heavier items, that Angie and Cierra can store for when I arrive from the hospital.  It will cut down on having to haul the stuff from the store to the house, then from the house to the car, then from the car to the apartment, and so on.  Right now, I can carry bottled water and large bottles of juice, both of which I'll need post-op.  After the surgery, lifting things like that won't be an option.  Wiser to get anything I can do beforehand done, so things will be easier post-op, right?  Again, thanks to your kindness, I'll be able to buy these supplies this next week, and have one less worry clinging like a funky monkey on my back.

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So that's where we are for now.  I want you all to know how humbled and amazed I am by your outpouring of fundages I know you can ill afford.  Despite my misanthropy, I am always awestricken by how people can pull together when any sort of shit hits the fan.  Religious, racial, and cultural differences are swiftly ignored and reviled by folks as each person does what s/he can with the seemingly impenetrable hope that things can and will get better.  That's a testament to the goodness within us, despite our fatal flaws.  If I had not known this before I launched my GoFundMe campaign, I would have been smacked by the Clue-by-Four of Kindness within just a few hours afterward.  Thankfully, I didn't need the Clue-by-Four, because I have always had faith in my friends...my tribe.

Again, thank you from the bottom of my shriveled little heart.

I'll be back with more updates as they come.

tinhuvielartanis: (Spork)

Apparently, Ruth Davis Hayes got it in her mind that I should receive this fine award you see to your left.  I am honoured!  So before you read the insanity that spewed in tendrils from my fingertips, you ought to scurry forth and check out her uber-groovy website!

So here is how this is gonna work.  I am supposed to tell you 7 random things about me.  At the end of this mess, I'll challenge other writers/bloggers/all-round-badass Sith in training, so prepare yourselves, I know who you are.

So let's just get down to bwass tax, shall we?


  1. When I was baby/toddler, Gerber's Blueberry Buckle was my favourite baby food.  On into adulthood, I would occasionally pick up a jar, because blueberries.  Since they seem to have stopped making it, I have found the perfect replacement - blueberry pie filling.

  2. I became a fan of XTC by way of The Dukes of Stratosphear, who is actually XTC photgraphed using some kind of mystery Acid trip lens filter.

  3. Although I'm not proud of it, I have to admit that I have a knack for Macchiavellian activity.  If that makes me a high functioning sociopath, then so be it.  Just because I have the ability doesn't mean I use it.

  4. I think this is connected with #3:  I have had strong evangelical abilities from the age of around 4 and throughout my life.  I actually wanted to be a preacher as a kid but, because I had no danglies and it was still the 70s, when women were still expected to play certain roles, one of which was definitely not preaching, I had no proper (or what I thought was proper at the time) outlet.  When my uncle commented in 1982 that I had converted the entire family to the Electric Light Orchestra, I realised you don't necessarily have to be evangelising about god. I have since evangelised about a lot of things and people.  Praise be.

  5. I had my head humped by a Beagle in 1987 and I was French-kissed by a Senegal Parrot just a couple of months ago.

  6. I once wrote a weekly report for which I was responsible at work completely in Rap form.  That experience gave me a new level of respect, even awe, for Rappers.  Because that shit is hard!

  7. I once translated ABBA's "I Have a Dream" into Lasha-Talourah, the language of the Tarmi.

Now, whom do I want to victimise with this meme?  Let's see some action from [livejournal.com profile] chris_walsh, [livejournal.com profile] vulpine137, [livejournal.com profile] polypolyglot, [livejournal.com profile] xevokitty, and [livejournal.com profile] stacymichelleb. Hop to it, people!
tinhuvielartanis: (Farce)

The other day, I came across this article - and soon found myself in awe of the information the piece provided. It’s an image-heavy article, which means this post will also be image-heavy. I’m not copy-pasting the text, so I strongly suggest clicking this telling image to be taken to the full write-up, especially if you’ve had a breakdown, know someone who has had a breakdown, or you ever fell victim to one of my unexpected, late-night, inexplicable and incoherent ramblings via email, blog commentary, or any other method by which you and I maintain contact.

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With each image that applies or have applied to my experience, I will share how it felt for me, if I suffered from the description in the picture. The first one here will show what will be behind the cut, should you decide to read further.

mb26.jpgFor me, this was not a sudden mindset, but a gradual one. In crises, I was always the one that held things together.  I could switch off parts of my brain, and do what I needed to do at that moment in time.  At the age of 12, I was the one who gave directions to the paramedics, when my great-grandmother had her massive stroke.  Granny was a non-functioning, human-shaped manifestation of panic, and Aunt Tudi was frantically trying to get things ready for when the ambulance arrived to the point where, honestly, she was being a detriment to any progress we might could have had. It was only two days later that the upheaval found me, at which time I became non-functional for a period of time, just a few days.  In times of turmoil, I realised I could take care of whatever situation I found myself, then release it all later in private.  The only times I ever lost that ability was the night before Granny died in 1993.  The doctors told us there was no hope, and she could die at any moment.  Since Granny also helped to raise me, having lived with me all my life, I fell to pieces.  But the next morning, when she died, I was cool as a cucumber.  This was Aunt Tudi's mother, to whom she had been excessively close.  This blow to her emotional well-being is something she never quite got over.  I was the one who had to make Granny's arrangements, and I did so in a disconnected manner, devoid of bothersome emotions.  Things needed to be done, and there was no one but me stepping up.  I remember a cousin remarking that I had to be some sort of Vulcan, or just callous as hell.

Click this if you care to continue. )
tinhuvielartanis: (Can't Stop Writing)
It's been a week since I've done one of these, but I've been a tad busy with much more Important Matters (yes, important enough to merit capitalization!)

So, let's get this party started, shall we?



This was inspired by something the Mother Unit said a while back.  I thought she was going to wet herself when she saw it.  Made me damned happy!  It also almost drove me batshit crazy, because my Photoshop skills leave a lot to be desired.  It took me half a day to make it, and it still is pretty bad, despite efforts to the contrary.
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You want to see more. You know you do. Click it! You can't resist! The power of Christ compels you! )

Okay, freaks, there will be more to come!
tinhuvielartanis: (Cliffs of Insanity)

Years ago, Aunt Tudi found a mail order gag gift that she just had to have. She's holding it in the picture above. She asked me to get her, the Father Unit, and Uncle Michael one each, because she thought it was just hilarious. When it came in the mail, I took this picture of her, and photoshopped one gleaming tooth, adding the caption. I posted it here on LJ and on Facebook.

A lot of people here on the Cliffs got to know Aunt Tudi really well over the course of the nine years she was with me after I began blogging.  Many of them became friends with me on Facebook as well.  Facebook is where [livejournal.com profile] dydan contacted me to tell me she'd spotted Aunt Tudi on eBay.  She gave me the link to the eBay listing, and the belly-laughing commenced!  So I wrote to the person on eBay.  Here's a screen cap of the note.

And would she have laughed? Most definitely.

This is proof positive that anyone can be a model, even middle-aged, eccentric, crazy-cat-lady level, Southern goofballs with a fetish for novelty items!  Screw Kendall Jenner.  Aunt Tudi is a star!

**EDIT**

I just got permission to share the rest of the conversation as it stands now. If there's anymore in the future that I can share, I'll do more edits. I have to say, this has really made my day. :D

duck281
duck282

(I then sent him the link to the video, since I wasn't bright enough to include in the original response)

duck283

tinhuvielartanis: (Augury)

Written in Blood is a blog written and maintained by a friend and former co-worker of mine. Yes, we shared Pit time. But also shared a love for movies, darker genres in particular. John was the one who got me hooked on Tarantino films. That makes him A-OK by me.

Anyway, since I'm trying to hawk my wares, as they say, I asked John if he'd mention by books in one of his posts. This is what happened. Click the picture for the remainder of the piece.



I’m not going to lie: Tracy Angelina Evans is a good friend of mine. We’ve worked together, drank coffee together and have been to each other’s homes for dinner on a few occasions. So, when she asked me for a little help to promote her Vampire Relics Trilogy I jumped at the chance.

With one little catch.

I told Tracy she had to answer three questions for me that I could include here.





You would be wise to keep up the going's on in John Mountain's world. Sure, he has a soft spot for the darker side of artistic impression, but he's a true maven when it comes to movies from any time or genre. I know this because I've played Trivial Pursuit with him and have lost miserably. Have a handy link to his main page, and don't forget to press the button that will hook you guys up.


tinhuvielartanis: (Santiago)

Tonight [livejournal.com profile] debrafortune and her hubby took me to Theatre des Vampires. It's a wonderful show! The best way to describe it succinctly is Cirque du Soleil meets Anne Rice. Truly, it was visually stunning, and the dancers have to be strong enough to pick up cars, because all that climbing and dangling from the heights of the stage has got to require some serious upper body strength, and let's not even get into the power your legs must utilise to do what they do.

Everything seemed perfect for the first fifteen minutes or so, then one of the Vampires came shimmying down one of the chains to the round cage in which dangled the coven's victim. He was small, bald, and blue. I shit you not.

But it gets better. Anyone who's known me for any length of time, knows that the primary song that defines Cadmus Pariah is "Clubbed to Death" by Rob Dougan. That song was featured heavily in The Matrix movies. Later on in the show, this particular Vampire comes out on stage dressed in a long overcoat that could have been an extra outfit in The Matrix.





And this happened on the day I announced the release of the third Cadmus book, The Augury of Gideon.

What. The. Actual. Fuck.

Despite the weirdness overload, though, it was just an amazing experience. And I am grateful to finally be able to say, "This shit's not just in my head. I have witnesses, and they saw the insanity in action without my having to point it out.

Afterward, we walked a ways down through some of the University of Colorado. There was a nice nip in the air. Being able to feel a season is a welcome experience.

tinhuvielartanis: (Augury)

Activities in this post will have already happened by the time I get to upload it to the Cliffs of Insanity, just so anyone who reads this knows.

I'm currently on a Frontier Airline airplane, headed for Denver. [livejournal.com profile] debrafortune contacted me about a month ago, wanting to know if I would come out to Boulder for the Halloween weekend. I have no idea why she wanted to fly me out to visit, but I think it's incredibly kind of her.

I met Debra in 2002, when I joined Live Journal. She was the first Shriekback fan I met. I can't believe we've actually known one another for 12 years. What is the time/space continuum coming to?

A couple of days ago, I added her phone number to my phone - or thought I did - so I could call her when I landed. Unfortunately, the phone didn't take the contact information. This is the second time that's happened with this phone. On top of that, the wall outlet charger stopped working overnight, when I was trying to charge the phone. This phone is my alarm clock, so it's a miracle that the phone had enough juice to cue my electronic rooster this morning. I found my USB charger, and am currently charging the phone. I put a call in to the Mother Unit, asking her to go into my Facebook account to retrieve Debra's number, and I messaged Debra on FB to let her know my contact dilemma, and tell her I was wearing my Grumpy Cat tee-shirt, so she'd know what to look for. Also, I asked her to text me with her number.

Some days, it just seems that nothing goes exactly to plan...

Anyway, I'm going to be landing in the Denver airport, at which time Debra and I are going to tour the bizarre art work and architectural oddness it boasts. There is a conspiracy theory that the design of the airport indicates that it is a secret headquarters for the Illuminati and/or Reptilians. There's also supposed to be Masonic symbology worked into the sight to so "Those in the Know" will will know they're in the right place, and direct them to the underground base where all the Eyes Wide Shut crowd can have their masques and rituals, Colorado style.

After we eyeball the airport, Debra's taking me to the sauna. We've never met in person, but the second thing we're gonna do when I get there is get naked, because that's what you do with friends. It's only logical. You can say a lot of things about my friends, but you can't deny their free-spiritedness and overall groovy attitudes.

I'm not sure what else we'll be doing, but I'm sure it'll be fun, strange, and super-mega-awesome, because that's just how we Shriekers roll, dig?

I'll be flying back to San Diego on Monday, at which time Smidgen will probably have a total emotional meltdown to see I have returned after probably assuming I've abandoned her in my room with minimal contact with anyone other than Obnoxious Chihuahua Extraordinaire, Toby, to keep her "company". Toby will be fine without me. He's bonded with Matt, who would be an Obnoxious Chihuahua Extraordinaire, if he were a dog. The two of them grok, especially on the manic level.

There's a bit of a scheduling thing I need to do on Halloween. I'll be announcing the official release of The Augury of Gideon, even though it's technically already available for purchase on Amazon. I'm hoping to coordinate with Kristen on this, so we can bomb all the appropriate social media sites at the same time. The key to getting attention in the ever-growing virtual world of Teh Intarwebz is attempting an information Big Bang, then following up with a ridiculous amount of repetition. That said, I would deeply appreciate it, if any of would reblog the announcement and relevant sites you hang out on.

At this moment, I am listening to my Vampire playlist, and attempting to write more on The Harming Tree. I'm contemplating bringing back Rebekah and Mephistopheles, because I've always been quite fond of that ghastly couple, their obvious love for one another entwined with their unbridled lust of blood and death.

Speaking of all these Vampires, I finally got to finish a picture of Cadmus I started four years ago. I'd scanned what I had then, and attempted to enhance it in Photoshop with absolute crap results. But using the Wacom tablet, I was given the luxury to fix the flaws that were already in the original drawing, then complete the rest of it. I'm a little (no... I'm a lot) self-conscious about posting it, but I may break down and make it a Friends Only post.

So there you have it. One part business as usual, one part adventure. I'll post more about my visit with Debra and her family, when I have the opportunity.

tinhuvielartanis: (Augury)

STABBITY_by_Shakahnna
It's been one of those days.



Everything is irking me right now. Frustration levels are in the plaid zone.

I can't access very old video files with the tools I have at hand, and won't be getting any help via the two PCs in the house. Not without a 4-hour long sermon on everything I'm doing wrong from someone who seems to not know diddly-shit about Mac and how different it can be from the realm of PC-dom. I did find the original VHS tapes, though, so I'm biding my time until I can get them converted to DVD and MPEG. I need to do that to preserve them anyway. There's a place in LA that charges $10 for the conversion, but I'm not certain I want to send the tapes away. I'm gonna hunt for someone local, so the vids will be in my possession at all times, or most of the time.

Yesterday, I read an article about that dick cheese, Pat Robertson. I shared it on Facebook. Earlier, I got a comment from a long-time friend, a lady with whom I worked at BMG, who found me on FB a couple of months ago. She was a titch defensive, not of Pat Robertson, but of the church as a whole, and its tax exempt status. We got into a tiff about it. I don't mind differing opinions or beliefs, but the whole religion thing is one of those hot-button topics that will send me spinning into a fury.

So, yeah, I'm enjoying an emotional repast of Sithly rage today. This might help me write today, though, so I'm just gonna ride the wave, and see what happens.

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