Is it wrong that when Dharia invites me out to watch a burlesque show I'd rather stay home with Trista and game? Sometimes, I just have to wonder where my penis has gone to...
This incident has caused me to reflect upon My SAYs.
My Sexuality Adventuring Years: Once upon a time, while I was younger and more adventurous, there was a period where Lori, John and I just hung around naked. In doors. Totally in the buff. I recall being rather amazed that John's dong looked different than mine -- porn is porn, and you can ignore genitalia or obsess about it as an image, seeing other people's critters in the flesh, well, that gives room to pause.
Of course, those were the times when parties at Lori's place meant lap dances (I always gave as many as I got) and strip teases (again, guilty) and drinking liquor off of each other's bodies (really made me appreciate belly button hygene, let me tell you). Now adays, I don't do any of that. Just don't want to. Did I get it out of my system? I don't think so... Maybe I'm just a different person, now. Boring, I suppose my old self would refer to my new self.
I suppose people go through these things eventually, maybe I'm done already.
So, last night, like, Trista and I went to, like, Borders, you know? And Trista, like, got this table in the cafe, like, and it was next to this angsty teenager guy who was, like, broken up with his girlfriend, like, and was obsessing about it? Like, he said, he thought maybe she was trying to discover herself, right? And, like, then he revealed ::shock, Shock:: that, like, his real fear was that, like, she had totally forgotten him! When the chick he was dumping all this on told him that was melodramatic, he recanted, and then, like, said, "Well, what if she's moved on?" Hopefully she has, I recall thinking. It was about this time I decided I could not browse the armload of books I'd brought to the table, and then decided to put them all back.
"Thank the cosmos I'm a grownup!" I muttered, on my way back to the Young Adult section to reshelve my armload of Buffy and Angel novels.
Speaking of Buffy and Angel novels: the reason I picked most of them up was the simple fact that Real Authors seem to write these things. Christopher Golden, Yvonne Navarro, Craig Shaw Gardner, James A. Moore... What's more, all these people will be at Necon. I can confront them (well, ask, anyway) what the advantages are to writing television spinoffs...
Makes me wonder consider devising a ya series... Probably can't be as gruesome as in adult horror, but ya horror seems to be not only alive but thriving! I actually wrote one ya novel, at the Goosebumps level (terrible titled Terror On Bunkett Hill), and started in on the second. It was a series about this small town in southern Illinois, beseiged by evil. The second one really smoked. Maybe I should get back into these. Who knows?
Actually, I used a nifty device of individual section names referencing horror film titles (the first book's were also time. 'Night', 'Dawn', 'Day', and 'Night, Again', obviously referencing the Romero worlds (the challenge was Night, Again or Night, Remade... Since in 1990 Tom Savini remade NotLD as a color flick. Of course, at this rate, I will then have to add a chapter, Dawn, Again, since they remade Dawn of the Dead... Nah. I'll just stick to the flicks Romero was involved in.
The second book's sections were named after Lucio Fulci's best gorehound quartet flicks. House By the Cemetary, Zombie, City of the Walking Dead, and The Beyond. I actually only got into Zombie, but by then, the book was too long for the Goosebumps sized novels. By the time it's done, the second book will probably be about the size of a real novel (60,000 words), because I'm halfway there already. Hmmm. I need to think about this. There's a third book here, too. I plotted out for a third book, anyway (who's section names I had as yet not figured out -- maybe Cronenberg flicks? Maybe Vincent Price flicks? Hmmmm. Or, maybe I can use all the titles a single movie was released under. Like: Shivers, The Parasite Murders, They Came From Within -- three titles for one fucking movie.)... Food for thought, I suppose.