Today I released a short story, "Dakrah's Familiar," on the Kindle bookstore. Obviously I hope you'll pick up a copy and enjoy it! But even more than that, I would love it if you would write reviews. ;)

Cover art by Dawn McLaughlin.

Finally a good enough inspiration to plop some words down here.

Neil Diamond. 

My mom was/is in love with the man. Enough that he was my first concert. And I've seen him live several times. That was a fact I tucked deep into my closet during adolescence and high school years. Then I grew up as a person and a musician enough to embrace the awesome. 

Because the man is. Absolutely awesome. His voice is like velvet on gravel, saturated with that impossible-to-train, sublime quality of pure music. And as a songwriter he's a fucking genius. 

Yesterday I was trawling the internet for deals and picked up his "All Greatest Hits" in digital format for $3. I'm sad to say until now my library has been woefully lacking in Neil. Mom has all the CDs. 

So, tonight, it's Forever In Blue Jeans, Sweet Caroline, Holly Holy (ooooh I actually didn't know that one, and it's... *fans self*), even Hello and Love on the Rocks. 

I recommend it. In headphones. 

But you know what's even more awesome? The man is in his 70s and still completely rockin' it. Embracing his own cheesy reputation with his latest video including puppies and sparkles. At the same time, he's active on twitter, and even did a really awesome AMA on reddit a month or so ago. 

Seriously. Neil fucking Diamond. Get it. 

This year for Christmas, we agreed to pool our funds and make a donation To Doctors Without Borders in support of Ebola relief, and keep personal gifts small and whimsical.

But, my brother did send me his old PS/3, as he just got a PS/4, and it's all new to me mann.

So despite my impeccable moral credentials, I suffer from the same "first person problem road rage" as the kids who got new PS/4s today... trying to make an account and swearing at the incompetent assclowns at Sony network operations. (Before you blame North Korea, consider that this happened last Christmas too...)

Fortunately I'll be departing soon to share holiday cheer with family, which ought to restore my True Christmas Spirit (atheist division).

I've rediscovered something: some years back, I practiced harder and got better than I remembered.

And at that point— let's call it "peak guitar—" I was almost-not-quite-really good enough to tackle something like this.

Not that it would stop me, because I was also cheerfully shameless about being crap at things. That comes with being new to something as simultaneously wonderful and difficult as dance.

But: I'm not that good anymore. I decided to major in salsa and that was it for the guitar for several years. I have a hill to climb again, in terms of guitar ability, and also in terms of regaining my shamelessness.

So I need to figure out when I can practice without terrorizing my household (*), practice really a lot, and then take another good look at this.

But if I find myself inspired to write a few new four-chord songs along the way, I will surely share them.

(*) We've figured out that guitars are played in the basement, before nine. Both of which are very reasonable expectations.

We have been enjoying some wonderful Hanukkah parties.  We're now at the bleary-eyed part of the year when life looks like:

Wrap gifts until 1 am.  Wake up at 6 am.  Get ready, drop off books at library, drop off gift for child in need at YMCA (4 year old who wanted Megablocks.  I love Megablocks - you can get a big set for very little money and kids can play with them for hours), get cup of coffee #2 on State St in Media, drive to Philly, work, shop for gifts for party tonight, work more, get food, host party, clean, wrap more, wake up tomorrow and go to work ...

We are blessed with wonderful family and friends and we are showered in gifts.  We are lucky.  We are also a bit sleepless right now and need more espresso ...

And the man in the back said, "Everyone, attack!" and it turned into a ballroom blitz.

And the girl in the corner said, "Boy, I want to warn you it'll turn into a ballroom blitz."

And I said, "Thanks.  Thanks a lot, but a warning that was not, 'cause it's already a ballroom blitz."

I saw Interstellar the other day. The very next night, we watched "Contact."

It was strange to see more or less the same movie, except with more hope and McConaughey as the arm candy rather than the hero.

A nation builds a space machine for you

woo woo woo

God bless you please, Matt McConaughey

Even if she's sure he can't exist

[Now they kiss]

[Now they kiss]

Old and busted:

New hotness:

What if the thing we call comedy is, "stories about the attempt to make love work?" 

Not always true, there's a lot of cruelty and anger in comedy. But even if you try to place Lenny Bruce on the spectrum of love vs hate, I think he might come out closer to the love end than the hate end, if only because "I HAVE TO TELL YOU THIS RIGHT NOW" is not unlike Cassandra's attempt to save the kingdom. 

But cruelty-anger comedy is generally less successful, feels less truthful or valid than make-love-work comedy. 

I'm still thinking about Silver Linings Playbook, about the non-romantic relationships. That's what spurred this thought process. So, okay, let's grab an example of something generally considered a good comedy, Monty Python & The Holy Grail. 

How is this about the attempt to make love work? 

King Arthur wants to get the Grail in order to sanctify his kingdom, but keeps running into his kingdom's idiocy (filth/disease/pestilence/The French/sexual repression/confusing thought processes about government, inheritance and marriage/etc.), and ends up arrested by contemporary police. 

Which really makes MP&THG a huge tragedy, because it basically says, "if such an idealistic crusade were to happen in England today, the perpetrators would be vilified and arrested." Maybe they should: we see the police covering one of the bodies Arthur dispatched, and questioning a contemporary witness. Maybe they shouldn't: we saw what happened when the person was killed.  

So, one could argue that Arthur's constant modus operandi of "I am doing this for your own good (trying to get the Grail to sanctify the nation and save it from itself)" is repressive and indicative of British imperialism, and not love, or we can let the text be a text unto itself, and say that Arthur wants to share the sanctifying experience he had when the Lady of the Lake gave him the sword and made him King, with the entire nation. he's coming from a place of pure, spiritual love. 

This blasted into my head between my first and second cup of coffee.  I wish I could control the blast stream so that I could use it more productively, but it is what it is. 

EDITED TO ADD: 

Mental overload. Too much Christmas, too much concrete jungle. I need someplace to chill for a few hours tomorrow. 

Likely candidates: Pendle Hill, Bartram's Gardens, The Michener Museum, Chanticleer. 

I Also just took something to make my brain shut down, preceded by chocolate. So maybe I can sleep this off tonight, go to the gym tomorrow and feel better. But holy cats, if anyone needed to "go on a sojourn," it's me. ​

But I managed to get one more submission in before the deadline. 

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Last night I dreamt that I was working  in the production office of The Muppet Show, planning out their Holiday Special.

Kermit and Fozzie and I were going over set designs and planning out blocking and stage management, relative to how we had The Millennium Falcon on stage.

Because, you know, it takes up a lot of room. And Luke Skywalker, Han Solo and Chewbacca were going to be on The Muppet Holiday Special, as some way to make up for or distract from the Star Wars Holiday Special, lo those many years ago. 

Of course, being my brain, it was Luke with his pre-accident Star Wars nose & jaw, and Han Solo with his Empire swagger. 

So, I had to help the two of them carry the wooden components built to stand in for the Millennium Falcon in rehearsal. Just then, Ted started helping himself to the piles of cheddar cheese and ham slices meant to accompany the pizza Craft Services had provided for the cast and crew. I hissed at him to stop touching the cheese and ham, he said he was hungry, and the head Stage Manager from the PA RenFaire started giving him a lecture. I said I'd handle this, and while trying to carry the Millennium Falcon in order to impress Han Solo, I used my most patient tone to tell Ted it wasn't time to touch the cheese and ham, he needed to wash his hands, go around the corner, get a paper plate, and when it was lunch time he should wait his turn in line with the Muppets, because I needed to move the Millennium Falcon. 

I woke up to find Vince holding his phone over my face, trying to record the lecture I was giving in my sleep. 

Thank you.