Obsession. Love. Find them in a ditch by the side of the road.
JS reassured me that I have far weirder thoughts than those encompassed here. I don't know whether to be grateful or frightened. In either case, Warren Zevon's My S**t's F****d Up applies. Whoever you are, this song may apply to you as well.
Huge thanks to Molotov Cocktail editor, Josh Groller, who was most kind and enthusiastic. I do not know the state of his shit.
I gently, softly whispered that I might, possibly, enjoy some octopus poems. And goodness, didn't a few of you come through with flying colors? I present to you these cephalopodian offerings, which made me bounce in my chair in a most unseemly manner.
First, we set the mood with my current love, Dream State by 0effe0.
Do go over, and click for full size. Amazing. Ethereal. Sensuous.
And now, octopus poems:
Octopus, octopus, down in the deep,
When do you sleep, when do you sleep?
Suckers clutching on
with morphing intelligence.
Lithe arms with sucky things
can easily outwit human beings.
Hunting in shallows
There is a new day, new prey,
for all tentacles.
Alienor’s Friend, Master of Octopi Haiku, Order of Cephalopod, First Class, Twin Tentacle Badge:
Slithy slimy things
Prowling under the surface
[Fight Club version]
Squids drive me crazy.
You really have fucked up friends.
God! Tentacle porn.
Alien octopus death cults,
Pulp fiction for squids
'She's a squid. She'll breed. You'll die.'
Fight Club version by Alienor's friend made me jump around, saying it out loud. And Beffey hit the nail on the head: exactly why I love them. Morphing intelligence? Yeeees, my preciouses. Yeeeees.
Still reading? Be prepared. I will have two more assignments for you soon. Yes. Because I am
If you don't have enough to read above, let me suggest the following: Pumpkin Teeth by Tom Cardamone. A collection of short stories with a seriously mind-warping spec fic bent and an undercurrent of homoeroticism, I was honestly blown away by this man's imagination. You'll see the reviewers over at Amazon felt the same way. Wow.
Not just a psychedelic imagination, but Cardamone can write, as well. I often found myself lingering over a turn of phrase that I found unique and haunting, and his characterizations were deft, with solid voices, and never a moment when I found myself thinking, "They wouldn't do that." Personal favorites include Mishima Death Cult and Lotus Bread, both stories that had me on the edge of my seat until the very end. I believe you can find Mishima Death Cult in the archives over at Velvet Mafia, and it's well worth the sleuthing.
The book really only let me down in one area: editing. I may be a bit OCD about this sort of stuff, but there were countless errors that, frankly, distracted from the experience. And not in a positive way. An additional "and" or a lacking "the," or perhaps an extra line between paragraphs, or maybe an "s" left off the end of a word, or words run together, or something that should be italicized that wasn't, and something else that was italicized ended up flowing into the next sentence, so that I was confused by the continued italicization. Slipping into a different tense... in the same sentence. These errors, unfortunately, seem to occur on most pages.
The cover art and the font are great, the overall quality when you hold it in your hands is great. The storytelling is beyond phenomenal. But for the love of Gutenberg, couldn't somebody go over the MS with a better eye? It really started to bug me. Having said that, several of these stories just won't let go, and I found myself, several nights this week, lying in bed, thinking of them. Cardamone's got another fan, now if he can just get himself a better editor. Hell, I'm volunteering, just so I can read his stuff first!
Have a lovely day, Bill Withers-style. Failing to do that, remember that everything decays.