Nicky's Back and I Get a Mention

I guess it's no secret that Nicky has been back on-line, at least briefly. Since so many of his accounts have been shut down, he has relatively few places to vent his spleen in even more ungrammatical than usual English. Lulu happens to be one place that hasn't permanently blocked him, and he has made Issue 8 of the Ethereal Gazette available there.

I was reading through the introduction, written by Nicky of course, and found this little nugget (he's been rambling on about the history of Tabloid Purposes up to this point):

"... - then a fucking "parody" of the book. She called the counterstone story the one that focused her "parody" on. Yeah that one called This parody of the story was the worst of all and they stole my characters repeatedly, the story in question is "Cyber:Terror:Dwarf" there is one word I have to say to that and that her being a total bitch for doing this. Fuck you lady, fuck you. I bid you GOOD DAY! Which is a old time version of shut the fuck up, that was the equal to that being the meaning of those two words. Her fake Tabloid Purposes being a highly downloaded book convincing people not to get the real books."

Nicky, I doubt the presence of my parody Tabloid Purposes kept anyone from buying your books. I suspect that most people who downloaded the book found it through my blog or Rusty's -- and those people already know you can't write. And I made it free. I'm sure that was a large reason for so many downloads.

Winter Weather Advisory

The part of the state I live in is under a winter weather advisory. It could be worse, I suppose; I could live in the Northeast. When we got up this morning, we found about six to eight inches new snow and winds gusting from 20-30 mph. Even though it’s still about 15 F (it’s supposed to get colder as the weekend wears on), the wind chill is below zero.

The walkway leading from the front of our house down to sidewalk is perpendicular to the wind and had drifted over. We spent 25 minutes clearing both the front and back yard walks and our sidewalk. The dogs made a really, really, really quick circuit of the back yard, did their business and ran back inside.

I was pleasantly surprised by one thing. This last summer, we spent $2500 on new windows for the house – nice, double-pane, low-e high performance windows – because our old ones were shot. We put the new ones in ourselves. This morning there was snow clinging to the outside of window! One the old ones, the snow would have been warmed by heat coming out of the house and turned to ice.

Since going outside today holds little appeal, I plan to get caught up on some reviews. I came home from work yesterday to find The Ethereal Gazzette Issue Seven sitting in my mail box. It is definitely a slim volume, with only six stories, one of them Nicky’s “House of Cards.” The "victim" in this latest rant, er story, is someone who writes real person fiction. Go figure. Review to come soon.

Miscellaneous Stuff

Nicky has finally managed to really make me angry. His latest article at Associated Content (no, I won't link to it) is a long, whiny, self-indulgent rant about how he has to live with the stigma of being bipolar and how, by holding him accountable for his actions, we are denigrating all people who have mental illnesses. That's bullshit.

I've posted this elsewhere, but I work with someone who is bipolar. He treats his illness, he takes his meds, and he's a valuable and responsible employee. He has the occasional overreaction, usually to a stressful situation where he feels angrier at someone than the situation warrants. But he has come to realize when his reaction may be inapproriate, and he trusts those of us who work with him to give him feedback. More than once, he has said to me, "I think I'm overracting. How do you feel about this situation?"

Nicky's logic goes like this, however: I have a mental illness; they are mean to me; therefore, they are mean to all people who have a mental illness. Nicky is incapable of realizing that people are upset with his actions and statements because they are inappropriate in and of themselves -- not because he is a Republican or Christian or bipolar or any other label he chooses to apply to himself. I'm not convinced he needs to be institutionalized, but he definitely needs supervision and medication.

In other news:

Morning workouts suck. I just got done with a really great kickboxing class, but it wore me out. I'm just not at my best physically in the morning. When I was running a lot and entered a few races -- I'm a slow runner, but I like the energy and the fun of races -- they were always in the morning. It took me twice as long to get warmed up then as it did for later afternoon events.

I've been ramping up my workout schedule, though, because my martial arts instructor informed me several weeks ago that he wants me to test for my next degree of black belt before Christmas. Yikes. For the last test, I worked out several days a week for about four months to get in shape for the six hour test (and most of it was kicks, punches, sparring -- very aerobic). I lost about 10 pounds and was the lightest I had been since college. I rocked that test.

This time, the test will be more mental than physical, but I still don't feel ready for it. I've also had a couple of minor injuries since the last test that make if difficult for me to perform physically to the level I want. Tomorrow, I'm going to run a 5K and see how bad I feel at the end.

Also, thanks to those who have been visiting my Associated Content pages. My third article finally posted. It has nothing to do with Nicky, but now that I have three published pieces, all subsequent pieces will go up immediately. I have an estimated 262 page views as of this morning, which gives me a clout level of 2 and an estimated payment of $0.39. That's about half what I need for a cup of coffee. I'm living the high life now. Heh.

Ethereal Gazette Issue Something-or-Other

A few days ago, I purchased the most recent edition of Nicky's Ethereal Gazette. It was priced lower than the other issues (it should be; it's shorter), and it has Nicky's new story "House of Cards" in it. I got a notice from Lulu this morning that it had shipped. It's coming via media mail, so I expect it will be next week before it arrives. I'll post a review here and on AC.

I've also started writing my review of Tabloid Purposes IV. This is the only other one of Nicky's books that I have a hard copy of. All the others I've purchased in PDF format or downloaded for free thanks to Nicky's exemplary Lulu skills. Since I also have a PDF version of TP IV, I'm seriously considering destroying the printed copy in some way.

Suggestions?

I might try to get my dog to shred it (he's cute, and he'd look good up on Youtube), or I could run it through my shredder. That's not very dramatic, though.

I could also use it for target practice with one of my guns. My little 20 gauge shotgun would make mincemeat of it in two or three shots. It would be impressive, but I'm not big on using guns in such a casual manner just to amuse folks.

Or I could mail it to someone who could do something much more...um...inflammatory.

Articles up at Associated Content

Finally, my first two reviews are published at AC. That only took more than a week. They can be found here:

http://www.associatedcontent.com/article/1236322/review_of_darkened_horizons_issue_3.html?cat=38

http://www.associatedcontent.com/article/1236304/review_of_more_frightening_than_fiction.html?cat=38

Nano is Over

Nanowrimo was over at midnight last night, and yes, I was still typing at 11:30 p.m. My hero was rescuing my heroine and a kid (well, teenager) from the bad guy's henchman. I got to write a kick ass fight scene with guns and knives. Yay! I made it to 39,700 words, which although not a winning 50,000, is still a new record for me.

I also got a great idea for the ending from a conversation with a woman in my critique group. I'll have to do a slight bit of research, but the bad guy is going to die in an awesome way based on something that really happened -- or rather that almost happened, since the person who survived it told the woman in my group who told me about it.

My Nano Nicky

The following is the scene into which I inserted Nicky. He'll be edited out of the final version of this, but I was a little stuck for inspiration and writing about Nicky gave me my 1670 words for the day. Please note, because this is Nano, this was written quickly with my internal editor shut off. I have spell checked it, though.
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Mia looked at the man, appalled. He was about 5’3” and very heavy. Fat actually. There was no other way to describe him. She guessed he weighed in around two hundred to two hundred and ten pounds, and it didn’t look like muscle. He was wearing dirty jeans, a black long sleeved t-shirt with an AC/DC logo on it and white high top sneakers. His scraggly, longish, dark brown hair looked like it hadn’t been washed in days, and his goatee had food crumbs in it. His skin, what little she could see of it, was pale like he didn’t get out in the sun much.

Jack pushed the door open, forcing the guy backwards. “Come on,” he said to Mia.

Mia crouched and ran through the door and slammed it shut behind her. “I didn’t hear any more shots. Did you?” she asked Jack.

“No,” he said. “Just the three.”

“Shots? What shots?” the guy who had answered the door said.

Mia looked around the room they were now in. It appeared to be a living room, with a sofa and a recliner and a TV that looked older than she was. There was also a set of stairs leading down to a basement. The overhead lights were on, but since the curtains were pulled, the room was dim. It smelled of cigarette smoke and urine. Lovely. Still it was better than outside at the moment.

“What’s your name?” Jack asked the guy.

“Nickolaus. Who are you?”

Jack tucked his gun into his jacket pocket. “OK, Nickolaus, we need to use a phone.”

“What the hell is going on?” Nickolaus looked confused. “Why do you have a gun? You can’t be shooting at people here, you know, mister.”

“We weren’t doing the shooting,” Mia said. “Somebody was shooting at us.”

“What shooting?” Nickolaus plopped his oversized butt down on the sofa. “I didn’t hear anything. I’m so confused.” He picked up a can of Coors Light from the coffee table and took a big swallow, leaving a nasty film on his already filthy goatee.

Mia suppressed a shudder. She turned to Jack. “You’re calling the police?”

“Yes.”

“I thought you wanted to keep a low profile, not let anyone know we’re in town.”

“I do. I’ll file the report under—“ he broke off and looked at Nickolaus who was still collapsed on the sofa, shaking his head and muttering to himself. “I’ll use the fake ID’s,” he whispered to her.

“Gotcha,” Mia said. “So, Nickolaus, do you have a phone we could use?”

Nickolaus stopped muttering. “Um, well, I guess you could use the one on the motel office. But you’ll have to wait until Granny gets back.”

“Granny?” Mia asked.

“Probably the woman who just checked me in,” Jack said to Mia. “She’d be about the right age. Where did she go, Nick? She was here just a moment ago.”

“Dunno.” Nickolaus took another swig of beer. “She just got a call and left. Told me not to touch anything. Stupid bitch.”

“You talk about your grandmother that way?” Mia asked. She knew that not everyone had good family relations, but she still didn’t like to hear this dirty little guy say things like that.

“Yeah. So?” Nickolaus stood up and puffed out his chest. “I live downstairs in the basement, and I help her out all the time. She couldn’t get by without me. And what does she do? She takes away my Internet connection and makes me get my own phone line.”

“That’s too bad,” Jack said with false sympathy.

“Yeah, the cow,” Nickolaus said. “The whole thing wasn’t my fault, you know. I was just standing up for my writing. Then those stupid assholes started prank calling here. Waking up Granny at all hours. It’s elder abuse, I tell you.”

“I’m lost,” Mia said. “I almost hate to ask. What writing? What are you talking about?”

“I’m an infamous horror writer. I’m very well respected in the small press market and I’m not afraid to tell people to piss off. I have a right to be published after all. Those assholes have no right to say my writing sucks.”

“What assholes?” Mia said.

“Those assholes at SA and others, and on Amazon, and they posted libelous tags about my books.”

“SA? Huh?” Mia said.

Nickolaus nodded. “And I’ll give a big fat middle finger to anyone who disrespects what I’ve done.”

Mia looked at Nickolaus’s hands and decided that fat was an apt description for his fingers. She sighed. Another nutcase.

“Look,” Jack said, obviously as tired of Nick as she was, “we just need to use a phone.”

“Granny locked the one up front. But you can use the one in my apartment. It’ll cost you ten bucks, though.”

“Your apartment?”

“Yeah, down there.” Nickolaus pointed down the stairs. “It’s pretty cool. It’s got two kitchens.”

Mia looked at Jack. “After you,” she said, not liking the smell that was coming up from the basement.

“Wonderful.” Mia saw Jack roll his eyes. What the heck were they in for, she wondered.

They followed the bad smelling Nickolaus down the stairs and into what passed for his living space. It had a vinyl tile floor with the ugliest pattern Mia had ever seen. A pull-out sofa graced the far wall; the mattress was out and covered with mussed up dirty blankets, something that sort of looked like a sleeping bag and two pillows that she really hoped had not originally been white. There was another TV opposite the bed, and a small desk and bookshelf to the right. The desk was covered with papers, beer cans, an ashtray and two plates with sandwich crusts.

Nickolaus must have seen Mia looking at the desk because he said, “Cool, huh? That’s where I create all of my stories. That’s it. I have pictures of me writing. Do you want to see them?”

“Um, no,” Mia said. She turned to Jack. “Let’s just make the call and get out of here.”

Jack laughed, probably at her discomfort. He knew she was something of a neat freak. “Phone?” he said to the little troll.

“Over there.” Nick pointed towards the desk.

“Stay here. And don’t shoot any cockroaches,” Jack said to Mia.

“Ha ha. Very funny.” She scowled at him.

“I don’t have roaches.” Nickolaus said, sounding affronted.

Jack walked over and hesitated for a moment, then reached out and picked up a phone. Mia could tell from the way Jack held it that it wasn’t any cleaner than the rest of the basement. She figured she would just stay where she was by the foot of the stairs. She still had her gun, so shooting roaches was technically possible. Depending upon how big they were and how fast they were moving. She was a good shot after all. The concrete floor might cause the bullet to ricochet, though, and hit something she didn’t intend – like Jack.

She waited impatiently while Jack called the police. Nickolaus stood off to the side and shifted from foot to foot. He refused to look at her, almost as if he were afraid of her.

“Thanks,” Jack finally said into the phone and hung it up. A pile of papers slid off the desk and onto the floor. Under the papers was a gay porn magazine, flipped open to a picture of a very well endowed centerfold. Mia almost burst out laughing as Nickolaus scrambled to pick up the papers and cover up the magazine.

He turned very red. “That’s, um, that, um, I’m just holding that for a friend. I’m not gay. I’m a conservative. I’m a Republican. I voted for George Bush and I only date women who were born women.” The words fell out of him in a desperate rush.

Mia almost felt sorry for him. She had had a female friend when she was in the Navy who had turned out to be gay. The woman had been very afraid that she would be found out and booted from the Navy, which she really loved. Mia had been as supportive as she could, but she had lost track of the woman after she left the Navy herself after Dusty’s shooting.

“It’s alright,” Mia told him. “We’re not going to judge you.”

“I’m not gay!” Nickolaus shouted at her.

“Calm down,” Jack said.

“No,” Nickolaus shouted. “Get out. Out! I’m not gay. I’m not. I’m not. I’m not.” He collapsed onto the sofa bed, flipped the sleeping bag looking thing over him, curled up into the fetal position and began to shake all over.

That was not a normal reaction. “Do you suppose we should call someone?” Mia said.

A door slammed upstairs.

“Sounds like Granny is back,” Jack said. “We can tell her. Let’s get out of here.”

They went back upstairs and found the woman whom Jack had seen when he checked them in. She looked surprised to see them coming up from the basement.

“What’s that little trouble-maker done now?” she asked as she dropped bag of groceries on the coffee table.

“Nothing, ma’am,” Jack said. “We just needed to use the phone, and you were out. Your grandson let us use his.”

“You might want to check on him, too,” Mia said. “I don’t think he’s feeling well.” That was the kindest way Mia could think to put it.

“What else is new,” Granny said. “I’ll check on him, but I’m sure he’ll be fine. Why did you need to use the phone?”

“Why did you leave so suddenly?” Jack asked, ignoring her question.

“Had to run an errand. What business is it of yours?” She sounded suspicious of Jack.

“Uh huh,” Jack said. “Well, tell Nickolaus thanks for the phone. We’ll just go out the front.”

Mia followed him as he walked by the woman and out into the area behind the front desk. He looked cautiously out through the plate glass windows, but Mia didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. No bad guys toting guns around.

Just then a police cruiser pulled into the parking lot, and a deputy got out.

“Come on,” Jack said. “Follow my lead, Mrs. Sterling.”

“Of course, Mr. Sterling.”
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