Farewell

Farewell, people. The last day of school is Thursday, and both Wednesday and Thursday I'll be taking finals, so I won't be granted much computer time. I doubt I'll be able to get on the computer much over the summer either, so you probably won't be seeing much of me.

I know. It's sad.

I just want to say that I'm really grateful to have met all of you and have gotten to know all of you, everyone that stops by here. I've learned a lot from all of you and you are all great people, in helping me launch my writing career and just generally caring by leaving comments or emails. In the past quarter year or so I've loved, hated, learned, and taken action, and all of you helped me in that (well, not so much in the hating part). I mean, after all, I'm only a teenager with a dream and many of you have already established yourselves.

Thank you so much and I really appreciate everything you all have done for me, from the bottom of my heart. It means so much to me.

Peace out.

The Whore Lived Like a German

That was the title of a spam email I received today. *sigh* Germans suck.

Sampling Some Scifi

Since the release of Star Wars Episode III and my recent indulging in Jeff LaSala's Escapee serial, I've been itching to write some scifi. I've tried it before, but failed utterly. I've had strokes of inspiration to try at it again since, but have been too afraid. I'm forcing myself into it now.

I think I've got the tone down very well. The title is "Family Means More Than the World." Here's the first paragraph:

When the sun was eclipsed by a bulk of metal and fire, Jonathan knew it was the end of the world. A shadow slipped across the city, dunking all into a darkness that even night would envy. A night that we will never see again, thought Jonathan bitterly, before running back into the living room to gather his family.

Eh? How's it sound? Good? Great? Grood? Mediocre?

The Small Press: A Rant

Small presses. The phrase gives off a sort of insignificance, doesn't it? Among big-time authors and major publishers, small presses are relatively unimportant. To readers, the small press couldn't even exist and it wouldn't affect them.

Of course, we could always say that the innaccessability of small press publications is because of this. Booksellers are guaranteed to put books produced by major publishers on the shelves before any close-to-unknown books published by small presses. And it's a given that major publishers will have more money to advertise and fund their books so they are seen almost everywhere.

This basically pushes small press books off the ballot.

But I think there's another reason why small presses don't get so much of the limelight. What's the reason?

Their quality!

That's right, I'm finally coming out and saying it: Small presses don't seem to give a shit about the quality of the things they publish. Granted, there are very professional small publishing houses that put out very good and very clean work, but for the majority, small presses STINK.

You see major publishers shooting out ten to twenty books a year, all without or close to without any grammatical/punctuation/or spelling errors. They're busy as hell, what with reading so many damn submissions every day, analyzing and evaluating them all, meanwhile trying to make the ones they've already agreed to publish look as perfect as possible. And they do that endlessly!

And yet, here are the small presses who are lucky to even publish three books a year, and if they run a magazine or online mag, they publish probably on average about six issues a year. Are they nearly as busy as the major dudes? Fuck no they aren't! I can just picture these inexperienced little morons twiddling their thumbs, waiting to receive more submissions while not even glancing over one they've decided to publish. Once they get something that seems worth publishing, they're too excited to even look at it and edit. Do they put half as much the time the biggies do into making their material shine? Are they even a fraction as busy as them?

NO!

They're all just little dimwits, to put it plain and simple. Their idea of starting a publishing company probably came around whilst one was smoking a joint and musing aloud, "Hey, I like Stephen King. I bet that if I get some writer like him to write books for me, I'd make a lot of money. Boy, it would be so EASY!"

I'm not even joking.

I've had it up to HERE with small presses. I read one anthology that contained so many errors I almost screamed at it. Granted, there were a few stories in it that were flawless, but that was due to the writer's skill. And I just put down a book that had so many mistakes in it that I just couldn't stand reading it any longer.

And guess what's so special about that book? The copy-editors (yes, editorS) were listed on the inside flap. Do you see that in any major publishers' books? No. The only written credit the editors get are on the acknowledgements page from the author. They're not put in the book anywhere else.

And you know what I think is so funny about that? THE COPY-EDITOR DIDN'T EXIST TO ME! He was not there. He was probably smoking a joint while he was perusing the manuscript as well.

So I'm sure that by now you all see my point and my obvious anger.

See, with Blue Monday Press, we're hoping to set an example for small presses. The cleanliness of our work is absolute and we're always aiming to improve the quality, even if it already seems decent to the average reader. We want it to look the way WE want it: Beautiful, clean and enjoyable. No strings attached.

If any other thirty-year-old guy who's still living with his mother and "running" a "publishing company" can't do that, it's a definate sign of the apocolypse.

But if a kid half his age with some determination and at least a grasp of how the business works can do that, we may yet be forgiven for our sins.

Writing Update

Let us veer away from the usual displeasures of my life and catch up on a little bit of my writing, shall we? Over the weekend I submitted the following stories to the following markets:

"Journey's End" (horror) - Insideous Reflections (professional print magazine)
"Billy Winston and the Nightflower" (horror) - The Corpse Magazine (professional print magazine)
"Forlorn Tower" (fantasy) - Brutarian Magazine (professional print magazine)
"What War Brings" (fantasy) - Byzarium (paying e-zine)

Here's to hoping for a good outcome!

Please Kill Me

I had a wonderful weekend with Kyle and his father. We played about a total of four hours of frisbee and I got sunburned on my back. Then we went back to their house and just chilled. I got to catch up with friends and have a few light-hearted conversations online and we watched Napoleon Dynamite (my fifth time). I also got to talk to Christina and found out a shitload of stuff that's happening around her and I feel so guilty for ever giving her crap about how great she's got it. She's surrounded by people that are about as immature and stupid as the ones surrounding me. We're meant for each other.

Other than that, Christina and I still had a nice talk and I've come to the conclusion that she's cutest when she's hyper and sexiest when she's tired. I wonder if she's similarly analyzed me...

So, all that pretty much got me in a good mood. I mean, besides Christina's ongoing problems in her household, I was feeling great, really. I was optimistic and looking forward to, well, everything, because, at that time, there wasn't much that seemed NOT worth looking forward to.

Then that night my aunt told me that she's going with San Francisco with Hannah on a field trip and that she won't be back until six o'clock, so I had to take the bus home. See, people, I usually walk over to the school she works at (where, coincidentally, Christina's aunt works at) and that's the main place where Christina and I get to see each other and talk.

But I was denied that privelege today.

But, you know what, I was just feeling so good that I didn't let that get to me. I just told myself I'd see her Tuesday and we'd talk on the phone when I get home. No biggy. I could live. So I didn't let that get to me.

And just this morning my aunt told me that I'm going to attend Sac High (the current school I'm attending) next year. I wanted to cry on the spot. This place is so goddamn terrible. It really is. The teachers suck (but I can usually deal with that) and I'm CONSTANTLY surrounded by loud, arrogant ghetto idiots that insist on fucking with each other and, in turn, annoying the living crap out of me. I cannot STAND being so deep in the heart of all this walking, talking ignorance. It's alienating and something that can drive people mad (for all I know, I already am mad).

I was hoping against all hope that I'd be able to attend Kyle's school next year. The way he speaks of it, it sounds like heaven. Great school activities (even for those as anti-social as me) and kick-ass clases, as well as kick-ass people.

And if I couldn't go there, I would have liked to go to Hiram Johnson West Campus, which is a nice school with plenty of intelligent people in it. My aunt mentioned that I could go there if I had the grades. I'm not sure if I do, and since I'm so pessimistic as of this moment, I don't think I do have the grades.

So I'm coming back to this shithole.

And what's more: Next year this nifty new charter district that's running this hellhole of a school is initiating a student uniform policy AND they're going year-round!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Please kill me.

I've already missed out on my childhood because of constant worry and stress over thing's I was too young to worry and stress about and just being exposed to way more than I should have. Now, in the heart of teenhood, these assholes are depriving me of the last three summer vacations that I will be able to use to hang with friends and screw around before I have to move out and pay bills and go to college.

And did my aunt think about it? Pfffffft. Are you kidding me? Sure, she feeds me and gets me to where I need to go and does all the requisite things that are necessary of a parent to do for their child. Except that she shows no interest or care for my emotions or mental stability. Not one. She doesn't go out of her way to ask me how I feel and she wouldn't even if I asked her.

I can't stay here anymore. I could move to my grandparents', but they live out of town and they'd try to control my life. I don't know if I'd be able to move in with my mom, but she doesn't have the money and she lives out of town as well.

I want to move in with my Auntie Alison and Uncle Brian. They're some of the nicest people ever. They live in Land Park, which is a nice area and they're calm, and that's what I need. If I lived with them, I'd get all the care I needed.

But I don't know. I really don't.

What? Oh, more...

Caked sexiness

Fairy fantasy

I like yellow just as much as the next guy

El party-o

Take dos

Blasphemous couch and its slavers

The last three are from my friend Brian's party. Anyone who can guess who I am and who Kyle is gets a gold star. I'll give you a clue: I'm the one that looks like a fucking idiot and Kyle is the one that looks like a fucking moron.

Also, ignore the dude Christina's on. He's in the past and she and I both know that she would've rather been on me right there than on him.

PLAY!

Harumph

Well, I love Christina. With all my heart. I'd do anything for/to her. Wait, maybe I should take out the "to" lest she sees it and gets the wrong idea.

But nevertheless, I love her. She's the perfect girl, and someone would have to be crazy to turn her down.

Oh, and check out this cool pink pillow...

Pink pillowy grooviness

Oh, and the girl which happens to be the most beautiful of them all.

God, she's gorgeous. I dedicated a story to her last night (the edited version of Forlorn Tower, actually) and I thought it looked pretty nifty. Maybe I'll send it off somewhere soon.

Well, please do keep in mind that I love her, because I don't want anything getting out of hand when I play grab-ass with you this weekend (you know who you are).

Actually, you don't know who you are because you don't exist. Philosophical, no?

CHRISTINA= ANGELIC PERFECTION GOODNESS.

Irksome Imbeciles in India

Dumbass blog post.

Well, Unhallowed Sanctum is ALMOST ready. Any authors viewing this blog post that have agreed to write blurbs for the e-zine, expect an email containing the first issue soon.

Well, today some random girl in my algebra class smelled my hair. She sort of leaned over from behind me and put her nose so close to my head that I could feel it touching my hair and just took this giant whiff.

Freaky? Yeah, definately.

Also, Ms. Treaster remarked that I look like a surfer-hippie today. Hmm. That's original.

I may see Christina today--it depends on whether she goes on the bus to her friend's house or not (which I hope she doesn't: mainly because I want to see Christina and I hate her friend). I was sort of a dickhole to her last night and I regret it. I have this wonderful capability of saying bad things to people whenever the hell I feel like it, and most of the time do. I'm a jerk.

So what else is going on in Ian's Irksome Idiotic, um, Day? Not much. Listening to The Clash--

Aha! That's what I was going to talk about!

Not The Clash, really, but all these dumbfucks that think they're punk nowadays. Hello, who the hell ever elected Ashley Simpson as a punk?

NOT ME!

I mean, Jesus, Avril Lavigne has never heard of the Sex Pistols...how could she ever be punk?

And Simple Plan, those retards that wrote a song that goes thus: "I'm a dic, I'm a-ddicted to you!!!" WTF? THAT'S PUNK?!

Punk has become a fashion. The spirit and wild I'll-do-whatever-the-hell-I-want-because-you-suck attitude has been sapped out of our youth. Stupid idiots come to school dressed in all black and Converse and wallet chains and studded belts and bracelets and choker necklaces and dyed hair and are sporting shirts that say GOOD CHARLOTTE!

If you want punk, listen to some Ramones or D.O.A. or Dead Kennedys or The Dickies or The Authorities or The Clash or Buzzcocks or Bad Brains or Velvet Underground or The Damned or The Stooges...I mean the list goes on. There is so much actual punk, but these kids are completely fucking blind and all they listen to is the stuff played on the radio that the media dubs as "punk."

Punk is dead.

Shoot me now. Pop culture sucks. "Punks" suck. Media sucks. The government sucks. THIS WHOLE ERA SUCKS!

End of rant.

Christina's Revelation

Well, Christina finally realized just how inconsiderate she is. At first, I thought she was aware of how she acted towards people, and then I slowly began to realize that she had no idea she was being so...well, unaware of others' feelings. The sweet girl that she is (contrary to previous statements) she's really working on changing it around.

Here's a crap-ass poem I wrote in Journalism today concerning her and her Revlation:

I hope she'll learn
She hadn't heard it till now
Life had let her pass by
Realization it would not allow

If she'd only known before
If naivete hadn't grabbed hold
Maybe things would be simpler
So she didn't have to be told

Now things are blurry
I don't know what to expect
But maybe soon
She'll show us all respect

I told you it sucked.

Anyway, I love Christina with all my heart and hope that she really does change, though I know she is trying. I can't wait to see her today, but I doubt I'll get a hug, just because every time we see each other now, we're around her aunt. For some reason, she isn't going in the back of the school anymore, where we usually meet up. I don't know why, but I have my suspicions.

Also, Unhallowed Sanctum is finally back on track, and I just received a submission from ANOTHER very established author, which is really cool.

I love Christina.

Ian out.

Ugh.

Today sucks. I was supposed to leave at seven fifteen for a field trip for a film festival in San Francisco. We ended up being late to school, and the bus had already left by then. Of course, I was blamed. Truthfully, it partly was my fault, but I was ready soon after and we still could've made it had it not been for my aunt's bitchy attitude and sudden willingness to feed the cat and fix everything else up that didn't need fixing up, and just all around take her sweet fucking time.

I got so pissed when I got to school. Like flustering, breathing hard, red-faced, black-out rage pissed off. So pissed off that I punched the brick wall and busted open flesh on a few of my knuckles. And of course, before I got out of the car, I exploded on my aunt and I'm sure she's going to ground me for a longer period once I get to her workplace after school. And, if she's feeling especially cuntish today, she'll take away my laptop, which I've had stowed away in my room, where I've been working on a novel for the past two days.

But I just want to forget about that right now.

The aforementioned novel is a surreal, paranormal horror-fantasy half-ass tale concerning my undying love for Christina. I've finished the prologue and first two chapters. Everything seems to be going fine so far...no complaints. The writing--which is from the point of view of a teenager much like myself--is solid and the dialogue is possibly the most believable I've done. Overall, I'm fine with it. I'm just a bit worried that I might lose interest--I've tried writing books before (with planned outlines and all) and the original intrigue for the story sort of faded after a while.

But I don't think I have to worry about that with this one. It's one that's easier for me to write, and plus, I made a promise to Christina that I'll finish it by camp (July 18th). So...yeah, been typing a chapter a night. I think that's a pretty steady schedule.

Unhallowed Sanctum is behind schedule. Kyle apparently got hit by a car, so he's a little slow on the pdf business. Poor bugger. So...I've just been editing over edits, just passing the time and trying to advertise. This slowness is really pissing me off--we still have authors to send the issue to for reviews before it can come out and Kyle still has to upload PayPal to the website and whatnot!

Sometimes I wish God really did exist.

Meanwhile, "Stan the Hero" hasn't progressed much, mostly because I've been alotting my time with my novel. I just haven't been feeling the...well, feel for the story. Sometimes I have to be in a certain mood to write certain things in certain styles. You know what I mean? Certainly.

Also, I'm adding a new link to my link columns. It's a site called "Dark Markets" with listings of all the horror anthologies, 'zines, and publishers open to submissions. It's very helpful and there happens to be a lot of publishers listed there that Ralan doesn't have. Imagine that.

Christina's been pretty upset lately because of her bitchy aunt and other problems that I probably don't know of. I feel like a dick for ever being such an asshole to her. I care about her so much that it hurts when I see her like this. It's as if all happiness and joy has been zapped out of my life. I just want her to be happy. And hopefully by writing this book (which I'm doing volunteerily--not because she told me to or not because I want to get something in return from her) for her. It's all for her. Because she's the only one that matters.

So...I suppose that's the end of today's rant. Toodle-oo.

Sorry

Okay, sorry for that recent post, guys. I was just being a jerk. I'm just really grumpy and tired today. So tired that I was walking down the hall falling asleep. When I was in the bathroom, I nearly fell asleep over the urinal. I was wakened by someone barging into the bathroom, finding me hunched over the urinal with a look of stupified bliss on my face. I shot out of it and zipped up, but the guy, spotting the white paint stains on my jeans, already had his theories of what I'd been up to. Oh well. I didn't know him.

I know I'm feeling like shit right now, but I take comfort in the feeling that, in the end, I'll feel good about Christina and me. I don't know how, but I will. Average hormonal mood swings, I suppose.

I had a rant prepared for you guys, but I've got way too much on my plate for my tired ass to get it all done in the limited time I have, so it'll have to wait. Ciao.

Bad Mood, Grim Tidings

Christina has shown time and again that she has complete disregard of my feelings. It seems she goes and does stuff without even thinking of what I might think of it, which goes to show how high I am on her priority list. She tells me she likes me a lot--honestly, I don't know what "a lot" is to her, considering she's attracted to literally every dude on Earth, or so it seems. Not once in our "relationship" has she shown one inkling of appreciation for having me. It's as if she takes me for granted. I can recall three accounts of which she's said something remotely affectionate, and that was with mild coaxing on my part.

If there is one thing I could change right now, it would be her immature over-obsession of every hot guy on the planet. It's one thing to obsess over hot guys on MTV or whatever, but to actually try to MEET random "hot" strangers on MySpace while saying she's devoted to me at the same time is pushing it. And that's an understatement.

I could expect nothing less from Christina. She can be so utterly clueless sometimes it's amazing.

But what else is new?

Well, other than that bullshit, I got a copy of Realms of the Dragons II. (Here's a note to Kameron: I usually don't enjoy reading excerpts, but, man, that was great stuff. Can't wait to get my hands on the whole thing). I also read Erik's sample, which was good, but his gave off the feeling that I had to already have the whole book in my hand to appreciate it more. Still good stuff, though. I started reading Kameron's contribution to the anthology, got half-way through, but then had to go to bed.

I also saw The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, which was grand indeed. I didn't think Mos Def would be able to pull it off as Ford, but he had a surprisingly good performance. Before the movie, my mom also got me all the Hitchhikers books in an omnibus, which was cool ++.

Overall, I had a nice time with my mother. She gave me some more skin care, because I'm cool. I really don't have bad acne at all, but oily skin just annoys the crap outta me, so I have to have my skin just right. I'm the most sanitary person on Earth. It's not even funny.

Also, for Christina's sake, I have been doing fifty to two hundred crunches and sit-ups a night (no matter what the circumstances) in order to get myself in shape in time for camp, where she'll undoubtedly see me half-naked at least (anymore than that pending). Hmmm. Don't remember the last time she's gone out of her way to do something sweet for me, but that's not surprising.

Unhallowed Sanctum is coming along slowly. Shit is kind of hectic, and it's stressing me out. I need to get it all done. Kyle sent me an email that was supposed to contain the rough draft of the pdf, but I guess he forgot to attach it, so I am without anything to edit. I suppose I'll write that purposeless preface for the e-zine then, and get on "Stan the Hero" afterwards.

What else is there to say? Nothing.

And this is where you stop reading.

Now.

Seriously.