Sisters

Warmed And Bound: release date & cover photos – and too much back story

all right. i’ve run in circles, peed a little, danced the dance of Cinderella’s stepmother in the hot iron shoes – only, if that were a happy experience – carried the kitten to the bathroom because she’s afraid of the dark, put the kiddo to bed and sang Suzanne Vega to him until my throat is ragged, planned the things i want to say to my husband at 2am about his unwavering faith in me … i think i’m ready to sit still for a moment and say “Holy shit. This book. How the hell did I end up in this book?”

it will be available FRIDAY JULY 22nd for $15.95 on amazon.com (ebook details soon)

and the book – these people – go meet these people: 
http://welcometothevelvet.com/forums/

and the book site – get over there, too, that’s where the NEWS lives:  
http://warmedandbound.com/

under the photos in this post lives the little acorn of misery, love and inspiration that led to the girls that led me by the hand into this book….

i’m going to be doing a few questions for Jay Slayton Joslin (along with the other amazing people in this list) but here’s the extended and sappy answer to ‘the’ question:

Where did I get the story?

the answer is ugly. think a new baby and insomnia and a sister you rarely see but miss painfully – and think total seething anger for this sister, because in your head is this beautiful ethereal duo tapping their toes and waiting to be drawn in the shapes of letters. they have nothing to do with your family issues. all you can do is resent the bitterness you do NOT want to bleed into this innocence. so you miss your sister. and bite your cuticles and have recurring dreams about peculiar trees. what happens? giving in, what always happens…. you can tie off your fingers at the first digit but the story will only hold so long. the twist ties and kite string snap and through the blood under your fingernails, you watch the core of a something indescribably beautiful take shape in the hate and love and need – and the trees. “The World Was Clocks.”

three years later, everything has changed – but Heather, this story was always for you.

Day 3

2nd shift is a bitch to get used to. harder than i thought. the mornings are great, but adam is adjusting to daylight savings time and resenting the hell out of me for being not-daddy at bedtime, so it’s rough. strange and rough. i don’t have any sort of pattern yet. it feels like saturday morning then eric LEAVES.

no writing to speak of, but that will come. i’m cooking two things – one is for heather and the other is a more appropriate continuation for chapter4, bridget’s backstory is falling around her in bits and pieces and snatches of overheard conversation – i’m nearing a split that is not going to be nearly as complicated as i was trying to make it. forget the fancy tricks, i’m just going to tell the story and move things around if i feel like it once it’s out.

kiddo is singing lady gaga to ponyo. it’s 10:30. gah.

i nap with him, i’m spoiled siesta-wise. 

i dreamed i had sex with justin timberlake and got pregnant, and all of this was happening in sort of a 50′s-era surf movie, and he was very “i want a baby, i’ve been ready” (who knew??) and i was standing on a beach in a pink two-piece and had a really fabulous ponytail. i was 3 equal parts divided: ”oh no! social mores, out of wedlock,  just one time and i’m pregnant, what a 50s PSA i am!”  and one third “i am fucked. is eric going to kill me, or is he going to be very joseph to my mary with this whole having justin timberlake’s baby thing?” and one third “what a bullseye. what a good-looking kid this will be. one night stand to lifetime of involvement, this won’t be bad.” i think i’m kind of a bad person in my dreams. anyway, i woke up during the sunset beach conversation feeling very weird about the whole thing as my 3 yr old was still asleep next to me…

the trees are budding, the birds are back, the grass is greening.

lonely.

love song for my (not that) faraway love:

zombie stomper

i have danced many a dance and texted many a midnight text this week – i think 2011 is becoming just a bang-up year.

there’s this thing that makes me dance, and this other thing that makes me dance, and then there are people that make me dance, and then there’s that familiar foot-jiggle that’s beginning, the first sure sign of a writing jag. the jiggling foot makes me dance.

i’ll elaborate on the dance reasons later. of course all the dancing is done to Gaga because that’s what the little man wants. and at this point i’ve got the volume cranked and am belting “GONNA LOVE YOU WITH MY HANDS TIED!’  all by myself in the car.

i should probably be doing more to spread this around. depending on the rain/ice situation in the morning, little man and i may head to guhl’s and buy up some fabric for zombie monkeys and other homemade gifts for the list and also just because i have a new list of people that i just want to do SOMETHING to make them smile. i think for some monkeys i’ll do stuffing brains, and for tamer versions there can be dangling button eyes. this should be fun. mail is fun.

i got to talk to my sister for like a half hour last night which is a wonderful miracle in itself – 2 hours of regular-people talk at top speed with over-lapping and sentence-finishing equals a half hour for us, and makes me feel very firmly rooted on the same planet as that girl.

eric starts his new job on monday – seriously things are crazy happy good. and i don’t have the cloud with this. there seems no reason to be peering at the sky constantly for the very vague edges of the jar. don’t think it’s close, anywhere close at all.

that’s what happens when spring is close enough to taste. the rain stops hurting and “cold” becomes “invigorating” and all the old skins start to flake, and out we shimmy.

oh, the title. the zombie stompers. i was really happy about certain developments involving a project that uses words like “cover,” paperback,”  “printing” etc. and we can blame my impulses on barbie, whatever, but i thought that a riduculous and fabulous pair of shoes that i would keep forever would be an excellent way to commemorate my name in connection with the word “print.” enter the Limited Edition Glow In the Dark Zombie Stomper … or at least the wait list. someday, someday.

and how better to say goodnight? the cheshire cat is mewing sleepy happy under the house, the rain is drumming, and i have lovely photos of my son(sun) dressed in a tissue paper lady Gaga costume, and a shoe that will one day be mine.

i love the world.

puppies and christmas trees and other wholesome shit. and starfish.

christmas tree up. puppies born, all 10 of them. well, originally 11……

 i have numerous pictures of these things, which i will post at a later time, most  likely tonight or tomorrow.

i just want to sleep. amphibian in me. my bloodstream is filling with glucose, and soon i will freeze in suspended animation until… until…? huh. christmas eve? spring? maybe just tomorrow.

adam thinks china and vagina are the same word, so that’s making for some interesting conversation.

my greatest wish is for 48 hours alone, to sulk, read, sleep on and off, write, watch House of 1,000 Corpses in 10 minute spurts alternating with Memento and Titus, and the entire time i would have perfect assurance through telepathy that my husband and son were happy and healthy and having a fabulous time in Disneyland or something.

okay so that’s not my GREATEST wish, but it would be nice. it’s 2nd on the list. one girl knows what first on the list would be, but it’s a selfish and impossible wish.

dreamed the two of us went to the beach again, and there was snow everywhere – snow even on the beach, but the water that washed up was warm, melting the snow on the sand as it touched it. the air was freezing and the key was to undress and get into the warm seawater as quickly as possible. starfish were washing up in the surf and we were tossing them back in fast as we could so they wouldn’t freeze. there were frozen starfush, dusted in snow, scattered on the beach. the worst was when you stepped on one and felt it break and mash into the sand under your foot. so we stood, wrapped in towels after the swim, our breath visible, chucking starfish back into the water as fast and far as we could. it felt like a noble and pointless endeavor. like we were doing our best at accomplishing absolutely nothing, but unable to give up hope. we swam to warm up, then wrapped up and walked the beach for starfish, over and over. we were still throwing starfish in the blowing snow, in our bathing suits with blue feet, when i woke.

(photo from Smithsonian blog)

i miss you already, you bitch

Dollstar

the last one is of mine today, you can see that it’s red – i don’t have a picture of heather’s since she got the stencilling off it.

the night was one of those that actually felt significant – weird. most important things can only be felt in a nostalgic sense, but we felt the happy gravity of one of the few remaining “sister outings” while life is still somehwhat familiar. maybe a narrative will follow at some point later. maybe the pictures and keeping the memories to myself and heather is the way to go.

tavern whores

october 2,2010