Afterimage

I finished the first draft of the new (old) novel, a rewrite of a rather pathetic bit of crime fiction that I just could not give up on.  The chapters are being reviewed as I write this.  I’m taking some time off.  I put in some long days on this and it still isn’t ready for prime time.

Meantime, something somewhat disturbing to keep the reader wondering, “Just where did he go that weekend and who—or what—was he with?”

Alien Detective copy 2To tell you the truth, I’m not sure myself.  I woke up in my own bed, but the room looked too normal.  I stumbled to the bathroom and decided the hat had to go, but it helped, and I’m not sure I can get through what’s to come without it.  I need a shave.

There’s missing time.  Someone else is missing it, though, I remember every second of it.

I may be in the mood for some alien jazz.  On the other hand, the Fool’s March is drumming in the background and my eye is pulsing in rhythm to the slipped and syncopated beat.  Another day in Memeopolis, no body but the killer must be caught.  It should be up to me, but who’s gonna trust a face like that?  See, the hat it essential.

Whatever happens, I will be played out.  After the last coda and the ink is dry, sleep.  Not a big one, just medium-sized.  There are too many more stories to figure out.

Have a nice world.

Coming Up On…

Every writing project comes to a point when it crowds everything else into smaller and smaller spaces, mainly of time.  Right now I’m 3/4 of the way through what I’m currently working on. As a result, my reading has slowed to a crawl (I’ve been taking far too long to get through an ARC that is really good—review to come) and I’m barely keeping up with everything else.

Donna has spent the weekend in Iowa with her sister, leaving me to wallow in potential bachelor disorder.  But I’ve managed to keep the place not only clean, but straightened out a few things.  I could never get used to her being absent, but occasionally I get more done when I’m alone.

However, the last couple of months have been taken up with another project that’s been demanding as much if not more time than the novel and has me a bit on edge.  I’ve been practicing piano daily in preparation for an actual gig.

World Book Night is coming up.  On April 22, the night before the official event, Left bank Books is doing an event for it—Speakeasy —at the Mad Art Gallery in Soulard.  Come by, it’ll be fun, and…well, I’ll be playing piano, along with two other excellent musicians.  (Not that I’m an excellent musician, but…)

This was the brilliant (read: insane) idea of Jarek Steele, co-owner of Left Bank Books (and my boss…one of them…), who casually suggested that it would be cool to have a jazz combo at an event called Speakeasy and, for reasons which now escape me, I said “Yeah, that would be.  Maybe I…?”  “Well, of course,” says he, “that’s what I had in mind.  Would you?”

So I’ve been diligent at the keyboard, honing some skills that have been largely left unhoned for too many years.  Much to my surprise, the rehearsals are going okay, and, well…it will be interesting.

But my daily schedule has been torn between the demands of a novel that is swiftly heading for conclusion and needs (demands, pleads, screams for) my attention and the little guilt-gnome in the back of my skull telling me to stop fiddling with that and practice!

Leaves little time for much of anything else.  Like reading.

After the 22nd, and my day of recovery, I’ll get back to, well, Other Things.

On the other hand, who knows?  This might go so well that we three who will be doing this could decide to continue it…

Sigh.  Doubtful, but never say never, right?  So it is with some reservation that I suggest if any of you are in the area and in the least interested, check out the event.  You will want to come out in support of World Book Night anyway, which is a certifiably cool thing to do.  It will be fun.  See you then?

Wrong Is Right: Political Absurdity Incarnate

Eleven North Carolina state representatives are attempting to do something which has been illegal in this country since the ratification of the Constitution.  Namely, establish a State Religion.

Here’s what they’re trying to pass:

SECTION 1. The North Carolina General Assembly asserts that the Constitution of the United States of America does not prohibit states or their subsidiaries from making laws respecting an establishment of religion.

SECTION 2. The North Carolina General Assembly does not recognize federal court rulings which prohibit and otherwise regulate the State of North Carolina, its public schools, or any political subdivisions of the State from making laws respecting an establishment of religion.

This resolution flies in the face of two centuries of settled law.  Furthermore, it also takes a run at the decision which was settled by the Civil War.  I think it’s fair to say that there is more than a smidgen of secessionist sentiment and some borderline treason there.

Need I add that the eleven representatives in question are all Republicans?

If the Bill of Rights was not clear enough about the intent of what America meant by “freedom of religion” and the quite tangible rejection of such meddling of government into the arena of religious expression, the Fourteenth Amendment made clear just which set of laws held the upper hand.  (For those not paying attention, there has been a steady tremor of right wing rhetoric in the last year or several directed at repealing the Fourteenth Amendment, for exactly this sort of purpose, to return to states the sole right to dictate to their citizens how they should conduct themselves as Americans, at least in the view of a given state.)

Why this should need to be rehearsed again and again I do not understand, but it’s been obvious for some time that the advocates for religious establishment—North Carolina House Majority Leader Edgar Starnes and his ten colleagues, for instance—are not interested in embracing religious liberty.  The only purpose of establishing a state religion—and please, while I realize there is no phrase in the two clauses quoted above that expressly state that North Carolina is establishing said religion, it takes little reasoning to realize that the only utility in claiming a right to make law concerning religion is in order to do exactly that—is to (a) enforce not only public conformity but private as well and (b) deny equal rights to religions that do not meet a given criteria.  One does not, under these conditions, even have to overtly pass a proscriptive law to seriously erode the ability of non-sanctioned religions to operate.  All one needs to do is deny recognition in favor of a preferred denomination.

The hue and cry of hyper-sensitives for the last couple of decades who claim religion—their religion, specifically—is under assault and requires extraordinary protective measures is at its base disingenuous.  (I could remark that, unlike certain institutions that must put up with mobs of sign-wielding and often aggressive picketers trying to block access, there are no widespread attempts to block people from attending church.  And unlike those other institutions, if someone tried that, no one would argue much at all if the police hauled them away.)  No one has passed any laws forbidding prayer—no, there are no laws banning private prayer, only public practices in certain places, which is not the same thing— nor has anyone successfully mounted legislation to rescind the tax exempt status of religious institutions across the board.  Christianity enjoys pride of place among all other religions in this country, so much so that it is virtually impossible to be elected to public office unless one prescribes to one denomination or another.  The president publicly announces prayer breakfasts, Congress opens with a prayer, and successful attempts to block zoning advantages churches have are rare.

This is about nothing but intolerance and a desire to make laws about how people conduct their private affairs. (Conformism to religion is about as personally invasive as you can get.)  One of the manifest ironies of all this is how many of the people who think this is a good idea also claim Libertarian values and do not see the contradiction inherent in their position.

Or don’t care.

But this North Carolina proposition has gone a few steps farther and it will be interesting to see what happens if it gets out of committee and onto the floor.  If it actually passes, the federal response will be fascinating to observe.  Religion aside, this is a state claiming the right to ignore national law.

New Mars

Yeah, I was goofing off this morning, trying to find a way into a rewrite, and needing to distract myself from overthinking it.  So I redid my header (see above).  It’s the same NASA image I had up before…only different.  I did some Photoshopping and added color and such.

The framing tool for WordPress, though, forces some heavy crops, so here is the full image as reworked:

Vibrant Mars!
Vibrant Mars!

 

As cool as the original was, it was also kinda monochromatic.  So I played around, did something more…Barsoom-ish.  Anyway, having once known how to add color to an image and then forgot the method, I have now rediscovered it and will use it a bit more often.

It occurs to me, though, that in all seriousness, should we ever settle Mars and start using it, over time the surface will change.  No, I’m not talking about the future of a terraformed world, where we intentionally put liquid water back on the surface and beef up the atmosphere.  Such grandiose plans are the precinct of science fiction, although that may well happen, too.  But I’m talking about the more likely scenario, the opportunistic, done-by-the-lowest bidder exploitation of resources, which will have “unintended” effects. The release of certain gases, minerals, and so forth, the addition of others, the detritus of industrial works, all will work to give us a show that may end up producing effects somewhat like this.  We’ll get a front row seat, via telescopy, of environmental impact.  It may even be beautiful in certain ways, but it will be obvious change.

Anyway, back to fiction, now.

New Me

I haven’t done any serious new shots of myself for a while.  A few opportunistic snapshots here and there, but nothing suitable for framing, so to speak.  Comic Con is coming up and I’ll be there and I was asked for a photo, so this morning Donna (patiently) indulged me and we did some new ones.  This one isn’t going out for a head shot, but I rather like it:

Me and Orchids, Feb 2013

She wanted one with the orchids and I don’t usually do profiles, so…

I had something in mind more like this, though, since I’ve been feeling a bit more physically…well, the way I’d like to feel…

Me, Doorway, Feb 2013

 

Sort of a catalogue feel, if you know what I mean.  What you imagine in the mind’s eye is rarely what you actually get, but I don’t think I’m likely to look much better anymore, given the nature of time and such like.

Combination of surgery and doggedly returning to the gym.  Cutting back on snacks, too—about all I allow myself anymore is the occasional oatmeal cookie.

 

 

I wanted to go for a noirish look, but I’m either just a bit too cheerful or not quite bleak enough.  The best I can achieve is a sort of nod in that direction.

Me, New Promo, Feb 2013

The hat makes it.  That’s my favorite hat.  Brought that back from Minneapolis many years ago.  My cool hat.  Sometimes I wear it to get in the mood to play some jazz, like here:

Me, Hat, Piano, Feb 2013

Michael LaRue shot that at the latest coffeehouse.  That was a nervous night, actually, so the hat was as much camouflage and shield as affectation (the bosses were there that evening) but it goes with the kind of music.

Probably, though, the way most people will remember me (assuming they do) is with a coffee mug in hand.

Me, coffee cup, Feb 2013

This wholly self-indulgent post is…self-indulgent.  Sometimes I need to be reminded of the reality, though.  Looking out through one’s own eyes, from the stand-point of whatever homunculus one has constructed to act as what we call “self image” is in need of occasional adjustment.  “Drift” in the sense of a mismatch between what you think people see and what is really there happens all the time.  Being reminded we aren’t quite what we think we are isn’t a bad thing from time to time, and the occasion for new “promo” shots is a good opportunity to reassess.

On the other hand, it’s also a good thing when it turns out that things aren’t as bad as they could be.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Other Stuff, Sundry and Otherwise

I posted a new piece over at my Other Place, The Proximal Eye.  A few folks have expressed a bit of amazement that I began another blog.  After all, I’m constantly complaining of lack of time.

But I’m a writer, first and foremost, and call me shallow (you did! how dare you take me at my word…?) but getting words out in front of people is what being a writer is mainly about.  Being paid for those words is, of course, part of the plan, to which the new blog is a necessary long term component.  That will become clear.

I’m getting ready (soon, soon) to start work on a new novel.  Part of the delay is getting settled into a new schedule, since I have a Day Job once again.  Didn’t I tell you?  Yes, I work for Left Bank Books.  This is a heady combination of smart and unwise on my part.  I work in a bookstore now!  I have a book habit.  This is like employing a junkie in a pharmacy.

But after a few hefty purchases, I’m beginning to exert discipline.  Don’t know how long it’ll last, but we’ll see.

That aside, so far I’m enjoying it.  For one, the people working there are, without exception, terrific.  Eclectic, sure, but then what am I?  I can only hope to aspire to the level of eclecticism on display in the intellectual variety of the Left Bank crew.  If you live in St. Louis and have not paid the place a visit, well, what’s taking you so long?  Get your ass in there and marvel.

Now for another act of self-discipline.  I’m cutting this short, right here, now, and turning to my other writing—fiction.

Eat. Sleep. Read.  (Come in to the store, you’ll understand.)

Also, make time enough for love.

 

 

We’re Back

Please excuse the “brief” hiatus.  Once in a while, I have Issues with all this internet falderol and this time it resulted in a protracted absence of the Distal Muse, for which I apologize.  I take full responsibility for the crash, although it did seem to take an inordinate amount of time for my ISP to resolve it.

No matter.  The Distal Muse is back up now.

In the intervening weeks since everything went blank, things have happened.  Primarily regarding this site, I have begun a new blog.  (Yeah, right, like you need another excuse to spend time away from your fiction, but go ahead, Tiedemann, it’s your time, spend it any way you please.)  (Thank you, I will.  Now go back to your corner.)

I have set up a sister blog called The Proximal Eye, dedicated to literature, film, art, questions of culture.  Reviews, basically.  I already have a few posts up.  I wanted a venue a bit less mixed than this one, which may have begun with the intention to discuss a finite number of things, but which has become my online soap box, megaphone, pulpit, podium, and editorial page.  Anyone wishing to link to my posts on books, film, and music would have to do so to the individual posts, because the Muse may not be entirely suitable for all situations.  Anything I might post here, therefore, that fits within the parameters of cultural objet d’arte I will cross post to the Eye.

Now that I have that cleared up, welcome back to the Muse.  In the next few days I’ll put something up to get myself current with whatever other interests, irritations, and insights I might have been unable to vent spleen upon in the past few weeks.

Thank you for your patience.

12-12-12

Because I can’t resist the date.

Urban Abstract 2, 2012
Circles and Levels and Clocklike Movement

This particular confluence of numerical coincidence won’t happen again this century.  Proper appreciation must be shown.

Or, as Stephen Jay Gould once said, “I have always and dearly loved calendrical questions because they display all our foibles in revealing miniature.  Where else can we note, so vividly revealed, such an intimate combination of all the tricks that recalcitrant nature plays upon us, linked with all the fallacies of reason, and all the impediments of habit and emotion, that make the fulfillment of our urge to understand even more more difficult…”

It is in our nature to reject coincidence as simply what it is, especially when it comes to cosmic events.  Long ago human beings decided the devices we invented to keep track of time actually meant something to Time itself, as if the universe was somehow required to acknowledge our conceits.

Still, even as a purely invented coincidence, 12-12-12 is kind of cool.  How many babies will be born today and be considered extra special just because?  If someone happens to win a lottery today, the efficacy of numerically based sympathetic magic will be reinforced, even though it will still have exactly the same relationship as the odds of a coin face coming up with each of a hundred tosses as if the collective numbers of heads or tails somehow imposes necessity on each one (namely, zero).

On the other hand, any day you wake up with something to marvel on is a win, so I’ll take my small pleasures where I can.

I’ll be writing up a year-end assessment in a couple of weeks.  Soon it will be 2013—a numerical change about as meaningful as today’s date in the greater scheme of anything.  For instance, it is 2012 in our calendar system (Gregorian—the older Julian is similar, lacking but 13 days, which would make today the last day of November, with today’s numerically alliterative advent still to come) but 5773 in the Hebrew calendar. (A more concurrent calendar is the Holocene, which starts at the beginning of the Holocene Era—ours—by adding ten thousand years.  So it’s 12012 H.E.  I like that.)

It’s 1434 in the Islamic calendar.  Sometimes I ponder the significance of time lapsed in cultural evolution to try to understand where a given institution is along the line.  In this case, I remember where christianity was in 1400 when seeking to comprehend current attitudes and events.  They were on the verge of the Reformation, with seething splinter groups roiling under the surface about to explode into a family feud they’re still trying to settle.  Hm.

One of the youngest calendars is the so-called “Minguo” which is from the Republic of China (Taiwan) and dates from the founding of the Republic in 1912.  Their centenary was just celebrated.  It’s 101 in the ROC Minguo calendar.

We’re fortunate not be stuck using the Unix calendar, which is expressed in seconds.

The true measure of time is change.  Change in the environment, certainly, but for our purposes, changes in ourselves.  There is no calendar for such things.  Some changes are temporary, some seasonal, others permanent.  They may be profound or just occurrences that seem to have little import.  It’s a question of where we’ve been and where we’re going.

Passagway
Passageway

It’s a common fallacy that our lives are telec, that they have a narrative structure, a beginning and an end in terms of purposes and goals.  If they do, it is a fact that we impose such things, but we’re not born with them.  (Born into them, perhaps, in the case of those who arrive swaddled in family expectations actively imposed.)  We have a start and a finish, which is not quite the same thing.  In between, it’s up to us to find meaning and purpose, make it out of whole cloth if we must, but waiting around for cosmic enlightenment to tell us what we’re here for invites a wasted life.  In an attempt to impose structure and suggest meaning, humans have invented numerous things—like calendars, with attendant rituals and anniversaries.  Out of the matrix of such things many of us find relevance among ourselves and that is not a bad thing at all.

In truth, each of us brings to such things what we have and are, whether we accept others’ definitions or not.  I wish people Merry Christmas despite the fact that I impute no validity in the defining mythology, because Christmas is what we make it.  I don’t have a lot of patience for people bent on souring everyone else’s holiday by indulging a political or theological hissy-fit—on either side of the Belief Divide.  I have my own resonances with it and take pleasure from the memory and æstethic significance on which I accrued that meaning.  I watch A Christmas Carol every year, drink egg nog, embrace my friends, and nurture a hearth-glow of fellowship.  I do not have to accept the fables to experience a “holiday spirit” every bit as real as those who do—nor do I appreciate those who insist on dumping cynicism and political scatalogy onto the season in an attempt to ruin it for everyone else in a misguided pursuit of some adherence to reason.  Truth and fact are often only coincidentally related, and the truth of the season is something greater than what is contained in the details of a given story.

The Gift of the Magi is my guiding narrative…for what it may be worth.

Happy Holidays, Merry Christmas, Season’s Wishes, etc etc etc.

Whatever calendar you use, have a good day.

Archive

I have published 529 posts on this blog.

Absurd.

I started the Distal Muse as part of an effort toward self-promotion, an effort that has in some ways failed.  But in the years since it was first established (I think it’s first incarnation, as part of a ridiculously complicated site, was 2003) I’ve used it to hone a skill—the short essay—and indulge whims that I frankly have little interest in trying out professionally.  After that original site was replaced by the current one, in 2006 or ’07, I started using it for all sorts of things, including putting up original art.

I look back over what is here and I’m pleasantly dismayed at the variety.  Not altogether pleasantly nonplussed by some of the content.  But, for better or worse, it’s all mine.

Some of it, I think, is not half bad.  (May not be half good, either, but that’s a matter of taste.  I think.)

Since its commencement, I’ve added a FaceBook page and, more recently, Twitter (at my agent’s urging; I’m not really sure how to use that one), to which I link my new posts.  Since one of the purposes of this whole enterprise is to ATTRACT ATTENTION TO MYSELF (to gain an audience, you understand), I thought I’d start using the archive, and link to older posts that may pique the interest of some of the good folks who now subscribe to my various digital presences.

Obviously, anyone can peruse the archive any time they want, and to my pleasant surprise, some do.  But I thought this might make it easier.

Yes, I’m trying to get more regular readers.  But I also have a small vanity which chafes at the idea that past work will fade into total obscurity.

So while I may not post as much new work here as I have been lately (an inordinate amount of which has been political—duh, I wonder why!), I hope folks will indulge in my previous babblings and may find something worthwhile therein.

Erosions

At The Risk Of…

Another GOP candidate has stirred the hornet’s nest of women’s rights and abortion by making one of the most blatantly absurd statements— no, that’s inaccurate, mainly because there is no way to gauge “most absurd” in this context.  So many of them have come out and said shit everyone knew they were thinking but till recently had managed to either not say or have couched in more sophisticated and euphemistic language.

Richard Mourdock said that any pregnancy resulting from rape is “God’s intent.”

How to delicately respond to this…?

Oh, fuckit.  This is bullshit.

The basic assumption of Biblical literalism these asshats have been using is a compendium of tribal law no one would approve across the board anymore because we don’t believe that shit anymore!

Did you know that, per the Old Testament, if a woman is raped and does not immediately scream and accuse the man, she is presumed guilty of adultery and is to be stoned to death?  (All the various sexual rules related to this can be found in Deuteronomy 22.)

What is wrong with this is that it all—all—reduces a woman to property.  I don’t care how you dress it up, interpret it, or reconstitute it, the reason we no longer regard Old Testament morays as valid is that they treat so many categories of people as property.  It condones slavery, chattel bondage, the rights of fathers to kill children.  They are rules, sure, and it does not give categorical rights to the father, but that doesn’t matter because it is all based on a construction of human rights we no longer support.

At least, most of us don’t.

Here is the basic problem and the reason I have always supported a woman’s right to choose.

It is her body, her life, her choice.  Period.  It’s not yours, it’s not the state’s, it doesn’t belong to the man who fucked her or her father or her husband and certainly not her rapist.  It belongs to her, to decided what to do with.  If people did not own their own bodies, then we wouldn’t have to get permission from them as individuals for organ donations (even after death).

So at what point does this cease being true?  How does becoming pregnant alter that fundamental fact, especially if said pregnancy was not her choice?

I’m sorry if you think that embryo/zygote/fetus is a human being, it does not by its simple existence trump a woman’s right to decide if she is willing to serve as incubator to it.  It does not trump her right to determine how she wants to live her life from that moment on.  It does not trump her right to be able to say yes or no to a situation that will irrevocably alter any course she may have set or predetermine what options she may have in the future, regarding career, partners, and personal matters having nothing to do with other people.

Because it doesn’t trump any of these things for a man, who can walk away and have nothing further to do with what he has left behind.

The argument that, among certain seriously neurotic types, that if she didn’t want to be pregnant she should not have had sex is nothing more than a different set of constraints to tell her what she can or cannot do with her own body.  Besides, she invited him inside, she never said he could leave any relatives behind.

I base my support on a lifetime of privileged autonomy, knowing that this was not something I, as a man, would ever have to deal with, so any pronouncement on my part would be at virtually no risk that my life would ever have to change.  Realizing that, I knew that I rather liked that autonomy and would never deny it to anyone else.  I see it as the epitome of hypocrisy for men to dictate this to women.  They would have to enforce a situation on women that they themselves would never be subject to.  This is the basis of discrimination.

I, were I a woman, would damn well insist on being able to live the life I want to live and determine my procreative future entirely for myself.  No one should insist, through law or any other means, that a woman do something not of her choice.

But we have been seeing the naked assertion of male privilege in all this, of men insisting that women should not have the same choices they do.

Well, to be perfectly blunt, fuck that.

Unless you are willing to embrace all of the rules in Deuteronomy and Leviticus, your presumption of speaking for Biblical morality is a sham.  If you do embrace all that nonsense, then you have no place in the government of a democracy, because all of it is born out of an autocratic mindset that has no problem predetermining what people are—master, chattel, slave, outcast.

Now.  This is all, ultimately, a major distraction.  The GOP was never serious about rolling back Roe v. Wade—why would they give up such a wonderfully effective campaign issue by fulfilling the implied promises they’ve made since the 80s and actually outlaw abortion?  Furthermore, they know very well the shitstorm that would create.  Most of the antichoice movement is leery of discussing legal redress—punishment—for what they claim is murder.  Most don’t want to talk about it.  The leadership very well knows why—because the fervent hope of most of these folks is that abortion simply go away.  If you punish people for it, it will never go away.  It will be in the courts forever, until one day the tide reverses again and it is once more legal, and maybe after that it will remain so because we will have really locked down this argument over who owns a woman’s body.

But now all it does is serve to obscure other issues and delude a large segment of the voting population into thinking this is something that will really make any difference.  By this tactic, they have you all voting for people who while touting “family values” have just been picking your pockets and diverting your real power into the hands of oligarchs.

I have one parting question for all you people so bent on ending abortion.  How come none of you advocate mandatory vasectomies, not even for dead-beat dads?  I never hear anything like that, even as a theoretical argument, from any the antichoice folks.  Nothing that would shift the focus to the man.  You don’t want people getting shot (pregnant) don’t take their guns away, just the bullets.

That was rhetorical, yes, but the question is legit.  Why is this all put on the woman, every time?

I think I may write nothing more political till after the election.

Vote!