Thursday, September 18, 2008

Query is in the mail

It is on the way, reporting time can be as much as two to three weeks but a rejection notice can appear at my door within days...

Wednesday, September 17, 2008

Quote of the Day

This was spoken by a Texas survivor of Hurricane Ike, as appeared in an AP story:

"I drink beer and chase women, gamble, cuss," Jones said. "You can't call that religion. I'm either too good, the devil won't have me, or I'm so bad the Good Lord won't take me. That's a good toss-up."

Mr. Jones, you are full of AWESOME!

Plan B

So apparently all email gets bounced back from the Donald Maass Literary Agency... which begs the question:

Why post on your Web site that you accept email submissions?

Their email box is likely crammed full.

Meh. I will go to the post office after work and do it the old fashioned way.

Sunday, September 14, 2008

Power outage killed my wine chiller

WTF??? Sure, it was not the most expensive unit out there but why make a device that cannot function properly after a brief power outage?

This one lasted, what four months? Nice. Thanks for that. I will likely forgo getting a replacement unless I can be guaranteed of its long-term stability.

I am irriateted to no end!!!

Maybe I should sue if my wine comes out funky...

Flame and Bone

When I was made from fire
Poured into the tender vessel of caution
That keeps my smoke from rising
Quickly did I discover that apart from crisp drizzles or falling snow
The world chilled my touched
Walking the narrow cornered gap between girders and cut stone
One learns to tuck his shoulders in or risk
Jostling a neighbor passing by rapt with want
For a clear path without the distraction
Of another man's boiling eyes
The tip of a finger
That oldest of all weapons
Grown deadlier and pristine in its invention
Gathers a mote of a cinder on its bare flesh
And turns pondering how best to scratch the impious itch
Prying open the tender seam
Where the oil of thought dews
Offering a new wick to ignite
Squirming alive as a salamander of mischief
That yearns for a taste of air it is so ready to devour
The steam of breath betrays me
Before the glint of orange spreads
In popping bright waves
Eroding the fibers feeding it
Leaving naught but ash
As my shell of quietude falls away