You ever get in one of those irritable moods where nothing pleases you? I am in it.

It's not PMS. I am at the end of the line for that emotional roller coaster for this month.

I don't know what it is but I don't like it.

I've been trying to get out of this foul mood all day. Right now I am sitting here, typing this and trying to find a song on Windows Media Player that might shake me out of this mood. The journey to this has been hopping from Trans Am to White Rabbit to Billie Holiday to Bolshoi. None of it has been good. I tried turning off the music, switching to a soak in silence. However; the quiet is making my head pound in agony. How is that going about?

I don't know what to do. I want some new music. Some melody to soothe the savage beast that is boiling to the surface under my skin.

I tried working on my chapter. I couldn't be bothered. I tried rewatching the "Being Human" pilot that I fell in love with this week. I couldn't watch more than ten minutes of it before giving up. I tried to read the new vampire novel that I picked up at the library today. I couldn't finish a chapter before tossing it on my dresser. I tried talking to my sister. Since we share the same twisted sense of humor, I thought maybe she could could make me laugh. But, again, I was swimming in misery. After ten minutes, I mumbled an apology and hung up. I went to Harris Teeter to their bakery aisle and bought this rich, indulgent chocolate peanut butter cupcake, thinking maybe my blood sugar was down. That something tasty and sugary would hit the spot. I couldn't eat a few bites before wrapping it up and sticking it in the fridge.

This foul mood is killing me.

How do I shake it off?

Why is it just when I find a new and interesting show, it always winds up getting canceled before the first season is even over?

This time it's "The Middleman".

The show is silly, funny, smart and very original in its spoof set ups. Not only that, it has some really great lead female characters. The dialog for everyone is a hoot.

Aw, phooey. I guess I am going to have to be satisfied reading the comics instead.


I am hoping to have the next chapter done by Monday. Fingers crossed.

My hair still wants cutting.

That is all.

I watched the Doctor Who series' ending yesterday and I am still reeling from it. Mind you, not because the episode was utterly amazing. No, the show was bad. Very, very bad. That episode and the previous one, "The Stolen Earth" made me realize that RTD has no idea how to write science-fiction. Not one clue. To make matters worse, he confuses science fiction with fantasy.

With fantasy, anything goes. You can bring back the dead, make people change shape and create things from nothing.

With science fiction, you just can't do that without making it fit within the realms of speculative science that is based on the science that exists at this moment. For example, in Harry Potter, wizards were always conjuring things from nothing like ribbons from a wand. You can't do that in science fiction because sci-fi must follow the rules of known science. One of those rules is that you can not create something out of nothing, that is, you can't create matter. Oh, you can change it but you can't create it. Think of the amount of technobable that goes into explaining how Star Trek's replicators work. But this technospeak is something that science can follow. Which is why Star Trek is consider a huge influence on the science world. Scientists see things on the show and try to figure out how they can make it in real life. You can't do that with fantasy. No amount of science is going to help you figure out how to do a love spell.

This is what RTD was doing. If the plot point he wanted didn't fit in the realm of science, he just plowed straight on through. Using it anyway.

I have become tired of this. I watch Doctor Who because I like science fiction. I like fantasy too but not when it tries to disguise itself as sci-fi.

So, I say, good riddance, RTD. Stick with writing what you know. Dramas. Leave the sci-fi to people who are willing to do the grunt work of research as well as follow the rules.

Chapter 9 is done and up.

I keep on killing off my characters like they were buzzing flies. I don't want to. However, for the sake of the story, it must be done.

Tomorrow is the 4th of July. It's going to be different from the one I am used to for the only reason that here in NC, privately owned fireworks are legal. I've been catching people pushing around huge carts of fireworks at the local TARGET. I've even seen a few roadside firework sellers.

So, I am expected a very noisy July 4th. Very loud.

Okay, another difference I just realized is this will be the first 4th I will be witnessing in an almost all civilian city. All the past ones were in military driven cities. I wonder if it will be different. I wonder if people feel different about the 4th of July here as opposed to Virginia Beach. Most of these people have never seen combat. They have never picked up a gun to defend their country. Now, I am not saying that they aren't any less patriotic than their military brothers and sisters. I just wonder how do they view the holiday.

Either way, I will be celebrating as well. I love the world. I love traveling all around this great big blue marble. I love meeting people from other lands and being a part of other cultures. But when it boils down to it, I am an American. I have a love for my country unlike any other. I don't think I could ever give up my citizenship here for anywhere else.

I love my America. She's a great gal.

With that said, I give you this. Because I will be 82 and still love the Muppets.

You know what that means...

I need a new hair cut. I've been putting it off for far too long. Resorting to wearing headbands or pretending that I can see with all of this hair in my eyes. However, the way it is now, I look rather silly. Too many cowlicks.

I wish I knew how to cut my own hair.

I've been having a hard time finding books on WWII from a British soldier's point of view. Here, Stateside, we have tons of books telling the views of the Navy, Marines and Army. We even have comic books telling these true life tales. One of them, Up Front, won a Pulitzer of its troubles. And it's a great read, by the way. But, again, I can't find any books from our British Allies.

I need it for research for the book. Doon was a British soldier in WWII. With the information I can gather, I would not have a problem writing from an American soldier's perspective but an English soldier? We are too different.

American soldiers were part cowboys, part boy scouts and almost all were wild men. There were very clever in the way that not only would they make due with what they had, they would use what they had in non-conventional ways. With a bit of wire, a razor, a pencil, a cardboard tube, a safety pin and a scrap of wood for a base, they could create a radio to listen to while squatting down in their foxholes. Their belief of that it may not look pretty but it works, was their motto.

Was that the same way for the British army who wore their ranks and regulations like second skin?

I know they thought of us as barbarians. "Over paid, over sexed and over here," was the phrase used to describe Yankee soldiers.

But what about them?

My body wants to sleep. I feel like my arms and legs are made out of lead but my brain is doing the jitterbug.

I don't know what to do without having to turn drugs of the medicinal kind. And, frankly, I hate taking anything that messes with my head.

Maybe I just need a change of pace. Sleep on the couch for a while. Or on the floor on top of a pile of blankets. Anything will do because the old bed isn't working.

My brain isn't doing much thinking outside of what is going on in the book. I feel that I need something new but I don't know what. Well, I have an idea. I want to feel awe. I want to go into a place that is massive and feel small. Like the Vatican or the Library of Congress. Some place where my eyes have no idea where to start or how to end. I want to be inspired by the hand of man. I guess, that's what I want.

What I wouldn't give for a teleportation device.

I haven't finished the chapter like I wanted. Man, it's like pulling teeth with me. Instead, I've been drawing.

Here are a couple of big drawing previews;


For the whole she-bang


For the whole kit-n-kaboodle

( Along with some random doodles )

Usually, I go with vampire but as with anything, it depends. While there seems to be only one sort of werewolf, that is the kind where a human transforms into a wolf or wolf-like being. However, there are many variations of vampires.

So, which type are we talking about?

You have your virus induced vampires such as the ones in I am Legend and Rabid. You have humans who call themselves vampires because they might drink a little blood or claim to be able to drain others of their "life force" or psychic energy. (Go to any goth club, you'll find them there. Or simply watch Martin and read Sundays with Vlad.) You have your elegant vampires as in the Anne Rice novels, where vampirism seems to come with a gift of class and culture on turning. You have your vampires created by demon possession such as the ones in "Buffy: The Vampire Slayer". You have your born vampires as found in "Vampire Diary". You even have your alien vampires as in "Life Force".

Personally, I like the demon possessed vampires. The dual nature is almost a Doctor Jekyll and Mister Hyde. While flashes of humanity might shine through, as seen by the character, Angel, he is forever fighting his darker demonic voices.

Now I don't like all vampire novels and movies. I can't stand the sparkling vampires of Twilight because they are the least like vampires out there. Instead, they are a wish fulfillment for the writer. A beautiful immortal who has lived endless years, who has seen more wonders than you can fathom and even then finds you the most special thing this world and time has to offer? Oh, such flattery.

No, thank you.

I'll stick with Severen and rest of the family.

Not just this blog but the story.

I want it to be done but I've been goofing off. I don't know why I am doing this. Maybe because the chapters keep on getting darker and darker that it's draining to write them. When I started writing Doon, I was writing an adventure story. The reason for starting the book was because I was tired of reading novels with noble elves. Every last one of them was pure, noble. Even if they were tricksters there was still something inhumanly noble about them.

Sick of that, I just wanted a elf or an elf like being who was simply average. Who was human and had flaws. Who would rather watch television than go on an epic quest. So, from here came Doon.

But in the last few chapters and from the notes I've been writing, the story is starting to turn into a war novel. Doon's past as an ex-soldier keeps haunting him. And because of this, it hurts to write the story.

I like Doon. I want him to be safe. But I know this is not the case. Soon he will find himself back in WWII under Nazi fire. Then back during the French Terror where he will meet his future POW guard. Doon is going to go catatonic with fear. And then there Baba Yaga who will almost disembowel him. I don't want Doon to get hurt. But this is his story.

Yes, I know I can change it. I am the damn writer after all. But it would be a farce. That tale wouldn't be Doon's story.

Oh, man, I am being ridiculous and stupid. And I feel every atom as such.

Why can't this thing write itself?

At least it's my favorite Pixies' song.



I haven't been going out because I've been trying to save on gas. Yeah, I am one of those people. The problem is the place where I live is spread out over many steep hills and this city doesn't believe in sidewalks. I kind of miss living in Ghent where I could hoof it to the grocery store, then pick up a roast beef sandwich for lunch at the Kosher Deli and round it out at the Naro's video store. All it needed was a library and I would have been set. But then I remember my place didn't have A/C, so, it's a trade-off.

I've seen someone and I do me someone going around town on a Vespa. I wonder how that thing takes the steep hills?

You know this place is so country, I bet you could take a horse around here. Okay, so it's really the burbs. But still, there is a horse ranch a few miles down the road. So, why not?

If you can have someone raising chickens in their front yard within eyesight of a Macy's and I kid you not about that, then why can't you ride around this place on a horse?

I would give anything for a BLT now. Okay, maybe not anything. This isn't a Faustian proposal. The last thing I need right now is for a demon to appear in my room carrying a silver platter with a blt on it in one hand and a contract in another.

But, honestly, I have a craving for bacon.

( I couldn't get through Twilight. Sorry, but I tried. I really, really tried. )

Okay, so it's actually a couple of student films but that doesn't make them any less cool.

The Trailer-


First episode-


It reminds all of the bad 60's/70's/80's exploitation films I used to watch as a kid. Russ Meyer, anyone? In fact, I am in the mood for a cheesy B Grade flick. I wish I could get my hands on a couple.

I did a Doon character sheet.


See the rest here.

He's all shaggy.

I love Spring. I have to admit it, as much as I dog this state, Spring in NC is beautiful. Not to mention aromatic. It smells like a 60's Disney movie out there. All flowers and joy.

Virginia Beach used to be like that when I was kid but not so much now since it has become the East Coast's answer to San Francisco in development. Mostly it smells like cut grass, the sea and cars. Lots and lots of cars.

Here you understand the meaning of "Spring Time Fresh". It's not just slogan. It's a way of life.

After watching a few dance videos I think I have stumbled onto the secret of dancing. That is, the difference of looking like you know what you are doing and looking like a complete idiot. (This does not apply to true professionals like Savion Glover or Mikhail Baryshnikov.)

The secret? It all lies in the number of people dancing.

Dancing alone, flapping your arms, jumping around and bobbing your head = idiot.

Having a group of people synchronizing with flapping arms, jumping around and bobbing their heads = masters of dance.

So, if you have never been to a certain club before and are not sure about your new dance moves, get a bunch a friends to mimic your moves on the dancefloor. You will wow everyone.

Right now as I am typing this I am going through a rather bad bout of insomnia. It's the type of insomnia that makes your brain all fuzzy. In return, the air feels like it's made out of cream and you have to push your way through.

Seriously, who needs drugs when your brain hates you.

Okay, so, I've had a lousy day. The A/C is broken. It's over 80 degrees in my room. I ate something that caused a rather bad allergic reaction in me. Because of it my feet have swollen up to point that it looks someone stuck a pair of haggis at the end of my legs. And for the past three hours I've had this song stuck in my head;



It won't stop playing!

Someone, anyone, cheer me up.

Chapter 8 is up.

It's a bit bloody to say the least.

Here's a preview;

“What the hell is that?” asked Fischer as he took off his glasses for a better look, “A bird?”

“DON’T TOUCH IT!” Doon snatched Lupe by the hand. He hooked his other arm with Ruth’s and began to tug the two along. “EVERYONE RUN! GET OUT OF THE KITCHEN!”

The girls did not say anything but obeyed. Their legs barely kept up with Doon’s as he kicked open the swinging front kitchen doors that lead out into the buffet bar. The three ran into the middle of dining area. The place was a large pit with a small set of stairs on either side that climbed up into the nearly empty casino floor. Velvet ropes closed off the stairwells. A few patrons with numbered tags pinned to their chest chatted on about which songs they were going to sing as they walked on by oblivious to the scene going on a few feet away.

Doon looked over his shoulder back at the swinging doors, “Oh, God, they’re not following me out. Why aren’t they following me out?”

Letting go of the girls, he ran his hands through his hair. Tugging a bit at the ends. “Okay, girls, this is what I need for you to do.” Logic was trying to take the place of panic in his mind. He took a deep breath and held it for a second count as a plan formed. “I need for you to run out and go find the nearest Greyhound bus station. Wait for me there. Do you understand me?”

Ruth shook her head, “You are going back?”

“Iggy hasn’t come out yet and I have to buy you some time to get the cup out of here.”

“But what if-”

“JESUS CHRIST, RUTH!” shouted Doon, “DON’T ARGUE!” He cupped her face with his hands. They felt dry and slightly rough against her skin. “Go. Please.”

He turned to Lupe. “I will see you there.”

Gripping the iron skillet tight, he dove back into the kitchen leaving the girls standing alone. The two were almost in tears.

So, I got a Tegaki account a couple of weeks ago. It's like livejournal only you draw your entries. The program they use is more or less a drop below MSpaint. There aren't any layers. No fill in tool. Not even an eraser. But despite all that, it's addictive. Man, it's addictive.

It's like being at the Macaroni Grill with the butcher paper table covers with a bumch of other artists. Everyone has the same four crayons and everyone is drawing whatever comes to their minds. And it's great.

Here's my blog. Mostly I do one panel comics about my day. Sometimes I do fan art such as this Tank Girl bit;



All I have to say is it's great practise because, brother, do I need it.

( In other news, I have to read that book Twilight. )