System And Power

We tend to think the left is breaking systems because they think it helps that goal. That is not completely wrong, but it’s more that they can’t help breaking systems for the same reason they think broken systems help their goal.

First I want to point out that I don’t think that leftists are either stupid or insane. (Yes, there are some number of mentally ill attracted not by the philosophy so much as the social perception that the philosophy is winning — it’s not but there’s a lot of false confidence and built in noise from their historical dominance of communications — attracts people, the insane, the wounded, the people who were bullied, who think it offers them protection. This has always happened with the left. In the places the left prevailed it didn’t go well for them. But that’s something else.)

The defect in perception/thinking it’s more of an acquired thing, partly induced by our education establishment, partly by the left’s full hold on all the mass-industrial-communication mechanisms, and partly because the mental mechanisms of Marxism have invaded everything, even the right. Heck, after years of being aware of them, I still sometimes trip on them.

Part of this was done through fiction, which bypasses our critical ability and embeds itself in our brains as “lived experience”. And a lot of those assumptions are plain wrong and bad.

But also, I’ve noticed that the extreme left of today, not the loot and burn lot, but the convinced intellectuals, are the good boys and girls of yore. In the past they’d have burn with zeal to to be missionaries. They still do. It’s just the post-Christian west only offers the broken faith of Marxism. But they still want to be “good” and “admirable” and their version of this is… Marxist insanity. At the same time, and possibly because over the last fifty years a lot of people were raised in group environments by strangers, there’s also poor socialization to take into account.

What I’m talking about is the fact that the left seems blind to any motivation or relationship that is not a matter of power.

Growing up in an even semi-functional family will teach you that systems of people work, without a power directing them from above. Sure, not perfectly — that’s the other thing families teach you. “If only everyone”never works, not even if mom screams and threatens people with the chancla. But it works, because each person gets something out of what they do for others, and even what they do for the whole.

But if your only experience is of a professional day care, all you experience is someone forcing others to obey, and nothing happening outside of that. Power.

And unfortunately that will slot into Marxism because Marx was an autistic bastard, and all the relationships he saw in society were translatable to power and group power at that. Because the only relationship is power, someone is always oppressing or being oppressed, hoarding the finite resources, or taking them back by force. Seriously, there was something very wrong in that man’s head. And unfortunately the broken meme has propagated.

The left truly doesn’t understand interconnected systems, or the fact that even minor things affect everything else. All they understand is power relationships.

Take environment. The left supposedly cares passionately about the environment. (How after fifty years of eminent apocalypse that never happens they can still believe I don’t know. But then I was never a good girl, piously believing my “betters.” As my parents would attest, I was “rather break than bend” which means I probably can’t grok them, even if I try.) And they do. But they also want us to eat the bugs. Which not only doesn’t solve the problems caused by traditional livestock, but uses more resources and destroys more.

But, ah, you see, in relation to the environment the masses of people have “power” therefore they’re oppressors. Making the oppressors suffer resolves the power imbalance, or at least helps it. Voila.

Same reason they’re not worried about China’s energy use and production by the dirtiest possible means going up, only ours. Because the US has “power” and China “doesn’t” so we’re the oppressors. Duh.

In the same way they are remarkably dense about the fact that importing millions of foreigners who don’t/can’t contribute anything to the country won’t help us OR THEM. Because you know, the US has the power and used to “steal” “resources” so bringing all these people here gives them power and gives back the resources we “took”.

They don’t understand complex relationships of intertwined groups or individuals and their interest.

This inevitably leads to their breaking everything, because the ONLY thing they understand is power relationships and think that inverting “power” fixes problems. Only what they see as power is often a relationship of service willingly taken — married people in mutual service, say, or kids helping their parents, or even volunteers genuinely serving those they help — and when they break that it breaks fundamental human connections.

And when they see the workplace/ commerce in terms of power, they make everyone concentrate on social games, and not the widgets being made or sold. Which explains the implosion of all the woke companies.

This also explains why now, that this problem is advanced, since it’s been on mental loop so long that competing ways of seeing the world have receded, their creativity seems to be stuck in “Scream at bad people and show oppression/revenge fantasies.”

In a way it’s horrifying, because they’ve lost 3/4 of what it is to be human. Things done, not because you’re oppressed or want to oppress, but because you you want to and it feeds your creativity or your social need, or it does something for someone you love.

Love is also out of it. it’s all power relationships. Hence why so many people can’t be in a relationship. because it must be power, and they must somehow be oppressed. Or those around them, in relationships, must be.

And I don’t know if it can be fixed, because a lot of it is fundamental, hinging on very early childhood training, and then reinforced in the thinking years, by every bit of education poured into people.

Only the very strong can escape this unscathed. Or the very non conformist.

Now, I firmly believe convinced Marxists are a very small minority. 25% at most. They show as more both through media domination and pudding heads non-thinkers who go along on the appearance of victory. But even with those they’re not even 50% or the fraud they push wouldn’t need to be the magnitude it is. A dab would do them.

But the problem is that a bit of this is in every one of our minds too. Yes, even mine, though mine is mostly — because I love history — bits of historical misinformation that I think about suddenly and go “Wait, that can’t be true, because this was also going on.” Though sometimes I still find breaks in the basic brain too. Like in the idea of writing something just because I want to, and it needs out of my head. Because doing something should be “useful.”

And that breakage in our own minds both amplifies the damage the left does and makes it harder to recover. For instance a lot of right entertainment as it sprouts up is… well, woke turned on its head.

Not all. We are the outsiders, the oddballs, the weirdos. So our stuff will often be quirky fun.

Unless … Well, even talented people get mad and think “People need to know.”

Part of the reason I have the blog is to process these things without their taking over my fiction. Because we can’t let it do that.

Look, of course your fiction will have your idea of how the world is organized. That’s because it’s yours. When we recreate even what we think is the real world in fiction, what we’re actually doing is not recreating the world, but recreating the world inside our heads. And that comes with your beliefs and assumptions. That’s fine.

But a good story is more than shouting the opposite of what the woke shout at us. Well done, it is subtle, and simply embedded in the story, not being screamed at the level of a morality play. And EVEN WHEN I AGREE WITH THE WRITERS when I accidentally download one of those books, they are fully as tedious as the leftist ones.

And it means you’ve internalized the power is the only thing that matters, bs. So you grab a little power and use it to equalize things by screaming the opposite of what is screamed by the establishment.

But that’s not what convinces anyone. Worse, that’s not even good. it’s forgetting the “thing” for social games.

I’m divided on “hire someone for their political beliefs” simply because I believe that the left has conquered all the institutions that way while we were unavailingly trying to respect competence.

What I will say is that there should be competence first. Faced with two candidates, equally able and qualified, knowing one is leftist and one is… standing with us more or less, go with the second. Because leftists have a hidden cost. As they multiply in your enterprise, they’ll use that to “equalize power” by hiring only their kind and using your concern to equalize power everywhere by “speaking truth to power” (Which because they’re the establishment is actually mostly speaking power to truth.) And your company is suddenly no longer producing widgets, but very concerned with hiring people with “oppressed” characteristics, to “equalize” the power. And this usually means you’re already doomed.

Still you need competence first. because hiring for any other reason at all always ends up in a war on things and people that work. Incompetence drives competence out. And if for competence you must hire a leftist (yeah, very rare, because, well, their brain is eaten with “power” worms) then you must watch them like a hawk, to not let your endeavor be corrupted out of existence. It’s just the price of it.

But everything else? This is not a power game. Society, economics, countries and yeah ecosystems have complex relationships between groups and individuals, most of which cannot be defined in terms of power. They’re rather “commensal” where the other benefits from what he/she/they do/es. Most relationships in nature are of that kind, (weirdly even predator/prey) and so are most relationships in human societies.

An inability to see that means you should be disqualified from opining on how people should live. But more importantly, it makes you a poor, broken creature destroying everything within reach, even without meaning to.

And when those in power are afflicted with this blindness, as they are in our society, reproduce the conditions of a family with a clinical narcissist parent. Because those in power are always trying to balance “power” where no power is involved, and create strife and hatred among those under them, while trying to “fix” things, which due to their blindness just make everything worse like throwing gasoline on the fire to put it out.

This means the moral character of people in charge doesn’t even matter. They’re all going to function as the worst possible humans. Of course, the broken system will also attract power vampires, which yes, are the worst possible humans.

No, I don’t know how to fix it, but understanding the mechanism that’s breaking everything in their heads might help both with not falling in the same trap and perhaps into reaching the younger people sliding into this mode of thought.

Because we need to rebuild and build a society where people can be whole.

Earthquake Bells Again

There is something I thought existed, and I referenced in a post earlier this year. Yesterday I mentioned it to my husband — for reasons — and he was like “wait, those don’t exist? I swear I’ve seen them in a movie.”

Well, as far as I can tell these devices don’t exist at all.

In my head, the lore was that there were these gigantic bells, on the shore or near the ocean (not sure why there, but that’s where I saw them) that were so exquisitely balanced they tolled at the slightest ground movement, movements too small to be detected by the human senses. (But not as small as to be provoked by waves, I guess?)

So that when the tiny foreshocks came people were aware an Earthquake might follow, and were on the alert.

I don’t even know if any of that makes sense, but I swear I thought they existed. And apparently so did my husband, because when we were discussing the feeling a lot of people right now have at the back of their minds that there’s something approaching, even when the signs are not yet there, or not yet clear, and I said “It’s of course worse for some people who are like Earthquake bells, even though those don’t exist,” he said “Wait, they don’t exist?” And it turns out, in the back of his mind he had the same image, of the bells by the sea, tolling at the slightest tremor.

So there you have it: A lot of us are vibrating and starting to toll like the Earthquake bells that don’t exist.

Oh, there’s plenty of reason for it — outright and open, and the only reason the “normies” (I hate the term) aren’t feeling it is because they trust the tv and “learned news”over their lying eyes.

There’s the fact that all of us have friends — or us ourselves — desperately looking for work that doesn’t seem to exist, or at least not anywhere we can find (a combination of a labor market corrupted by easy imports of quasi-indentured, educated servants, and the fact that more and more people only hire those they know). Then there’s the economy behaving in very weird ways, including supply shortages, and the fact the oil price is falling, which can only be explained by the economy being completely upgefuckt. And the fact that feeding ourselves, let alone the little pleasures left after 2020, like going out to eat once a month or so, have become prohibitive. (Now eating out is birthdays or major celebration, pretty much, for most people. Which in turn will propagate into a lot of restaurant failures, beyond the ones that failed in 2020.)

And there’s the certainty those who are paying attention have, that there is no law in the land, or at least no equally applied law. And yes, you can say there never was, because the phrase “usual suspects” exists for a reason, and once you’re one of those you’re in trouble. That’s possible. Probable even. There is no perfect justice, on the side of humanity. So there is always the chance we are influenced by all sorts of things: how someone looks, how they talk, their antecedents, who they associate with.

But there was a reasonable expectation, once upon a time, that if you kept your nose reasonably clean, and you didn’t bother others in a physical and persistent way, you’d be relatively safe from the long and intrusive arm of the law. There were failures, of course, but not frequent. Now? Ah. If they can go after the rich and well known and make up stuff about what happened at a very filmed event, are you safe? Why should you be? the only safety seems to be in keeping the czar far away from us. And that’s not possible, since the Biden-zar wants his sniffy, twisted nose into everything you do. Particularly that. And that too.

And then there’s the election next year. You’d think with vote by mail enshrined in 36 states, they wouldn’t be scared, right? You’d think with the machines ready to alter votes at will, they would be confident, right?

But then, with the army at their side and a quiescent legislature, they would have been confident enough not to have the inauguration behind barbed wire, and without military escort. But you’d be wrong.

The only thing I can figure is they know perfectly well what they did. And they know, beyond the polls that I’m sure still are glossing how bad it is, how profoundly they are hated by every Jack, Jill and Bob across this great land of ours.

They also think we’re like them. They know what they want to do to us, with less excuse, so they imagine what we’d like to do to them. In technicolor. And they can’t imagine why we haven’t moved yet — it’s complicated. The best answer is these things take time. And yeet not before thou art yote upon — so they are white knuckled, and seeing conspiracies at every turn. And the longer it takes, the crazier they go.

Or if you prefer it simpler and Biblical “The Wicked Flee Where No Man Pursueth.”

Or if you prefer yet again, they’re going nuts, with extra nuts, and a lot more of fucking crazy sprinkles.

And next year is election year.

And you know what they did in 2020.

I don’t know how they can top a scamdemic and putting the entire country under house arrest. The only thing you know and I know and we all know is that they’re going to try.

That alone, without any other reasons is enough for the sense of creeping unease at the back of our brains. For those of us who are “Earthquake bells” to be vibrating.

But you know, some of us, perhaps through a surfeit of Celtic blood, can also sense something else just over the rise, something huge and formless headed to us.

It might also not be woo woo at all but our subconscious adding up everything that’s wrong and starting to see how big and horrendous the something wicked headed for us is.

I’ve written about this “something wicked this ways comes” feeling before and recently.

The thing is, this one is really bad, the feeling really urgent, so each day that goes by without something it gets worse, because, well, why is there something that feels so close, but hasn’t happened yet. Oh, it must be big. No, bigger than that… And then you wake up in the night, clutching at the sheets, and expecting the whole world to dissolve around you.

And the normal thing — I’ve been doing it too — is to start examining your life for what personal thing you could have missed that will end in close-up and soon catastrophe. I mean, that’s normal, right? Everyone does it, more or less.

Like at the end of September, when what I was getting was a sense of doom and a sense of infinite mourning, I called all my aged relatives. I tried to get younger son to go to a cardiologist. I got that weird mole checked out. You know, the normal. And every time it was nothing, it felt worse, because I was sure I was missing it.

Again, no idea how my brain was giving warning for 10/7. It shouldn’t be. It was not near us. But it was, I think, a step in a series of escalations to come. And it was obviously that because when it happened, there was mourning but natural mourning. The sudden, intrusive, no explanation mourning that came out of nowhere in the middle of the night, stopped.

Or rather, came back again in two weeks, but as a minor thing, in the background of this insistent tolling to prepare and hold, because the Earth and the sky were going to change places briefly, and nothing would ever be the same again.

People who are susceptible to this all seem to be feeling it. People who aren’t susceptible to this are also feeling it. (Husband. No really.)

For some of you it might be the first time. And for the rest of us, you feel this but nothing is happening close-up as it should be to justify the feeling. And it gets worse.

In either case, if you’re checking all your instances of jeopardy, stop staring at your boss like you expect him to turn into a werewolf and make you throw him from a seventh floor window. Stop looking at your co-workers like one of them might be a disguised Oni considering you for the stew pot. Stop going through your spouse’s underwear drawers or disk drive for indications he/she means to leave you. Stop wondering if your cat is intending to escape for the haven of the neighbor’s warm back porch.

Yeah, one or the other of these might be true. I mean, some of you might have some catastrophe close up and personal headed for you. But it’s unlikely, or not more likely than usual. It likely has nothing to do with that cold feeling in the back of your neck, and the voice at the back of your brain that says “protect yourself and those you love. Do it now.” Or if you prefer “Duck and cover.”

Too many of us are feeling it for what you’re feeling to be personal.

It’s just a sign of the times. And the hells bells ain’t going to get any quieter till it come to hell and high water. (And me with no galloshes.)

No, you can’t turn them off. I’ve tried. Heaven knows I’ve tried. But you can mute them somewhat by setting them on ignore.

Some of us have lived with extreme pain and ignored it. It’s possible to ignore unlocalized anxiety and feelings of doom.

First, make sure it is nothing in your immediate environment. Set that on periodic checks. Like, say, once a week should be enough. Doing it obsessively won’t be any more helpful. The reasons for this anyway is that the really big alarm might make you miss a little fire alarm in your own kitchen.

Second, make things as secure and fast as they can be. Make sure you have a place of refuge, and a secondary place to run to, if needed.

Third, well, you know, have your clothes and weapons where you can find them in the dark.

And as hard as it is to concentrate on anything else, remember that you can’t do anything right now. Even vibrating and tolling away, like an Earthquake bell — that doesn’t exist — won’t do anything but making you and those around you crazier. (Which means I need to cut down on this sort of post, only I think this one is needed.)

There is nothing you can do — yet.

There might never be anything you can do. Even though I knew what was going on in 2020, it turned out that yelling it at the top of my lungs did not much of anything, because there are big people-movements where the herd stops hearing anything but its own bellowing.

Or there might be something you can do. If you keep your head and steer just a little, in the right direction, at the right time.

But right now, right now? Right now, you need to do what you need to do.

Look, sure, Noah built an ark. But I’m sure he also worked to get money for timber and nails and provisions.

While other people marry and are given in marriage, and things proceed as normal, keep your ark building in the backyard, and fulfill your every day functions and duties. However you can do it.

I recommend Jordan Peterson’s hacks for how to get things done. Work for periods you can, in well-delineated tasks, and reward yourself. Or use the pomodoro method. And reward yourself. And pet your cats (and dogs) always. (And make sure you have food for them, if worse comes to worst for a bit. Oh, and litter too. If they’re used to a type of litter they might not take sand from the yard.)

And try to stop vibrating and tolling quite so alarmingly. It just spooks everyone else.

I presume the time will come to sound the alarm. Well, in a way we already are, but low and slow, and only the attuned can hear it.

For now do what you have to do and keep your head down.

Yeah, perhaps what’s coming is that huge and that disruptive. It doesn’t follow the results will be bad. Just that for a while things will be very strange and unpleasant.

Stay as steady as you can. Earthquake bells don’t exist. And you have to keep functioning.

Until it all shakes apart.

And then you have to function through it. And out the other side.

Be not afraid. In the end we win they lose.

How precisely the shaking comes and when is not ours to decide.

Ours is just to secure ourselves and ours. Go to it.

Farewell to A Friend

It probably shouldn’t surprise me that this year would have a final sting and take one of my mentors and friends as it ends.

Okay, I’m personifying the year and that’s stupid, but it is has been a bad one.

I first met David Drake because when I was sat down for a signing, I noticed the corner with the Baen (mostly) guys was the happiest, most cheerful bunch. The others sat at the tables, either in gloom or being “G-d or Shakespeare” as Diana Wynne Jones called it.

But the Baen people talked to each other and made jokes, and frankly, I wanted to be there. So I would sit with them, and they — in their defense — were very tolerant of the literary fantasy weirdo with the accent. And got used to me.

When my career crashed in 03 I needed to talk to someone, and Dave Drake was the only one who would agree to tell me the truth: had I done something to deserve it?

Of course I had not, it was just the field and how it then worked. He let me rage at him for 2 hours, away from the con, in a very cold park, and then we came back. And a few months later he recommended me to Baen, which led to selling Draw One In the Dark.

We remained friends over the years, though our correspondence tagged off of the last few years, between health and moving and you know how life goes.

It was still a shock to hear of his death. Yes, I knew he’s been ill and had retired from writing novels — I subscribe to the newsletter –but it was still somewhat shocking, because, well… he wasn’t that old, as we measure age these days.

I need to unpack the library and unearth Lord of the Isles.

All day, since yesterday night, memories have kept coming. Just silly things over a 20 year plus friendship: his sending me articles about painting my mailbox, after a long joke-conversation on how ugly my then-massive (so returned manuscripts didn’t get too folded and could be sent out again) mailbox. Visiting DMNS with him, and his admonitions on Ammonite shells. Because he didn’t visit in magic, but why tempt fate.

Getting lost when we both happened to go to the bathroom during a Baen dinner, and deciding to hang out in the nearest lit area until people found us. (Both of us had a tragic lack of sense of direction.)

His web mistress entrusting him to me to get him to the taxi (?) to the airport, (what was she thinking? I couldn’t find it either) but then Dan finding me and dragging me off to get our plane. I got home and was worried, so I emailed him asking him if he was all right. He answered with this multi-page adventure of getting lost, and ranging over the neighborhood, including the gas station, then fighting off a pack of werewolves and more or less by accident finding the airport and his gate. (I’m almost sure it was fictional. ALMOST.)

Or the time we’d both read a book on the fall of Troy and started talking to each other about it … at a very boring panel on… something. Over the head of the poor panelist stuck between us. (Well, you know the primary duty of a panelist is to be entertaining. We were failing before, but the people LOVED our discussion, and started shouting questions to us and– Eventually the other panelists gave up.)

Or the time he asked me, just before a panel started at World Fantasy, whether I colored my hair. For those not read in, yes I do. My hair has been white since the first pregnancy almost killed me. And it’s weird white. Colorless, like vinyls siding that’s been too long in the sun.

Anyway, at the time I was just turned forty, and there I am, at a panel, with the room filled with writers and editors (World Fantasy was then more of a convention for the pros) and David Drake shouts, “Sarah, do you color your hair?”

I had to turn it somehow. I mean, really. But he was perfectly innocent. It had just occurred to him to ask, so he asked. So I said “Dave, of course I do. I work with editors and publishers. I’ve been white haired for years.”

He immediately laughed and claimed the same cause for his salt-and-pepper hair.

I’m sure the memories, funny or sad or poignant will keep coming through the next few days. It’s hard to imagine that someone so alive, and who was such a part of my life is gone.

I’ll keep his family and closer friends in my thoughts. It must be that much more difficult for them.

Right now I remember him, after a World Fantasy banquet, showing me the paperback in his pocket — I think it was one of the World of Tiers — and telling me that he always kept it there, for when he could no longer endure the chitchat and the crowd.

I hope in that eternal convention bar where I’m convinced those of us who work between worlds end up (Too good for hell, and yet too ill for heaven) he’s found a nice corner table, from which he can quietly observe all our departed colleagues in their fun and their fights. And I hope he has a favorite paperback in his pocket. Just in case.

Book Promo And Vignettes By Luke, Mary Catelli and ‘Nother Mike

Book promo

If you wish to send us books for next week’s promo, please email to bookpimping at outlook dot com. If you feel a need to re-promo the same book do so no more than once every six months (unless you’re me or my relative. Deal.) One book per author per week. Amazon links only. Oh, yeah, by clicking through and buying (anything, actually) through one of the links below, you will at no cost to you be giving a portion of your purchase to support ATH through our associates number. A COMMISSION IS EARNED FROM EACH PURCHASE.*Note that I haven’t read most of these books (my reading is eclectic and “craving led”,) and apply the usual cautions to buying. I reserve the right not to run any submission, if cover, blurb or anything else made me decide not to, at my sole discretion.SAH

(Oh, and if you have things on sale, why haven’t you sent them in to be promoted? Allergy to money? Chafing at the thought of lucre? Hives at the idea of wealth?)

YES THE FIRST TWO ARE ABOVE IN THE PERMA PINNED POST, BUT SOME PEOPLE ARE INSUFFERABLE IN THEIR SELF PROMOTION, WHAT CAN I SAY?

Also I wish to remind everyone that you can order now on sale, and have a bunch of books delivered to your loved one’s kindle on Christmas morning and look like a big spender!

FROM SARAH A. HOYT: Draw One In The Dark (The Shifter Series Book 1)

Something or someone is killing shape shifters in the small mountain town of Goldport, Colorado. Kyrie Smith, a server at a local diner, is the last person to solve the mystery. Except of course for the fact that she changes into a panther and that her co-worker, Tom Ormson, who changes into a dragon, thinks he might have killed someone. Add in a policeman who shape-shifts into a lion, a father who is suffering from remorse about how he raised his son, and a triad of dragon shape shifters on the trail of a magical object known as The Pearl of Heaven and the adventure is bound to get very exciting indeed. Solving the crime is difficult enough, but so is — for our characters — trusting someone with secrets long-held. Originally published by Baen Books.

FROM SARAH A. HOYT: Deep Pink (Magis Book 1)

Like all Private Detectives, Seamus Lebanon [Leb] Magis has often been told to go to Hell. He just never thought he’d actually have to go. But when an old client asks him to investigate why Death Metal bands are dressing in pink – with butterfly mustache clips – and singing about puppies and kittens in a bad imitation of K-pop bands, Leb knows there’s something foul in the realm of music. When the something grows to include the woman he fell in love with in kindergarten and a missing six-year-old girl, Leb climbs into his battered Suburban and like a knight of old goes forth to do battles with the legions of Hell. This is when things become insane…. Or perhaps in the interest of truth we should say more insane.

FROM SARAH A. HOYT: Here Be Dragons: A collection of short stories

A collection of short stories by Award Winning Author Sarah A. Hoyt. From dark worlds ruled by vampires, to magical high schools, to future worlds where super-men have as many problems as mere mortals, this collection shows humans embattled, imperiled, in trouble, but never giving up. Angel in Flight is set in Sarah Hoyt’s popular Darkship series. The collection contains the stories: It Came Upon A Midnight Clear First Blood, Created He Them, A Grain Of Salt, Shepherds and Wolves, Blood Ransom,The Price Of Gold,Around the Bend,An Answer From The North, Heart’s Fire,Whom The Gods Love,Angel In Flight,Dragons as well as an introduction by fantasy writer Cedar Sanderson.

THE REST OF THE BOOKS!

FROM L. JAGI LAMPLIGHTER: Guardians of the Twilight Lands: The Sixth Book of Unexpected Enlightenment (Books of Unexpected Enlightenment 6)

An old enemy returns!

With the Heer of Dunderberg dead, Rachel Griffin is determined to save her beloved Roanoke Academy before time runs out, but to do this, a new covenant must be forged with the island’s fairies. On top of this, an old enemy has escaped and might reappear any moment

Rachel has learned not to wish on stars, but what should she do when she yearns for help? She is troubled by other questions, too: Where do the dead go? What became of her beloved late grandfather? Most annoying of all, with such a wonderful boyfriend, how can she be in love with two boys?

As her fourteenth birthday approaches, the answer to these questions awaits her, along with wonders such as she has never seen.

But there are terrible things ahead, too.

FROM KARL K. GALLAGHER: Trouble In My Day (Fall of the Censor Book 6

Cut off by an enemy offensive, Marcus Landry must take his ships behind Censorate lines, fighting to find a way home and find new support for the rebellion.
After leading the resistance against the Censorate occupation of his adopted homeworld, Marcus Landry is the natural choice to lead Corwynt’s new ships against the enemy. He’s never commanded a warship before. But his crews are as new on the job, and someone has to be in charge. He’ll take his rebels out to liberate other worlds from the Censor’s grasp and give them ancient books proscribed by the Censorate. Some were even written on Old Earth, before the Censor depopulated it.
Admiral Pinoy has been granted the ultimate gift of the Censor: command of a fleet to crush the rebels and barbarians disturbing the proper order of humanity. He will correct his past mistakes over the bodies of his enemies. First, he must teach troops used to ruling defenseless subjects how to fight an enemy who fights back.
Marcus Landry is racing the enemy to rejoin the free people. Rebels are gathering to defend their new freedom, but will they be enough to defeat the forces of the Censorate?
Read book six in the nine book Fall of the Censor series. The first four books were finalists for the Prometheus Award for Best Libertarian Science Fiction Novel.

FROM MELISSA MCSHANE: Warts and All The Expanded Deluxe Edition

Beginner witch Chloe has a problem. There’s a frog in her tub who says he used to be a man. Worse, his memory is slipping away from him. Magic doesn’t work, so there’s only one way she can think of to turn him back—but can she bring herself to do it?

And that’s only the beginning of her challenges…

In these fourteen short fairy tale retellings, including “Little Red Riding Hood,” “The Frog Prince,” and “The Princess and the Pea,” follow the adventures of Chloe and her family as they fall into one fairy tale after another.

This expanded, deluxe edition includes three new stories and illustrations by Caitlin Walsh.

FROM JAMES DAIN: Everyone Dies in Youngstown: A Noir Action Thriller Mystery

Can a man stand by when his brother’s been murdered?

It’s a dog-eat-dog world in rustbelt Youngstown, Ohio–but MJ Shea, a small-time cocaine runner, is making out just fine, thank you.

Until his crack-addicted brother turns up on the street, his brains blown all over the pavement.

The cops can’t be bothered investigating a simple gangland murder.

And no one wants to tangle with Waylay May, the city’s brutal drug lord.

But with his own life on the line, MJ must fight his way through the lies and hidden dangers of the forbidding streets to get justice for his dead brother.

And what he finds will change everything, forever.

Prepare to stay up late reading this gritty, fast-paced novel by best selling thriller writer James Dain, Best Novel Winner at the Los Angeles Neo-Noir Festival.

Click the BUY button now to join the action!

FROM DEVON ERIKSEN: Theft of Fire: Orbital Space #1

At the frozen edge of the solar system lies a hidden treasure which could spell their fortune or their destruction—but only if they survive each other first.

Marcus Warnoc has a little problem. His asteroid mining ship—his inheritance, his livelihood, and his home—has been hijacked by a pint-sized corporate heiress with enough blackmail material to sink him for good, a secret mission she won’t tell him about, and enough courage to get them both killed. She may have him dead to rights, but if he doesn’t turn the tables on this spoiled Martian snob, he’ll be dead, period. He’s not giving up without a fight.

He has a plan.

Miranda Foxgrove has the opportunity of a lifetime almost within her grasp if she can reach it. Her stolen spacecraft came with a stubborn, resourceful captain who refuses to cooperate—but he’s one of the few men alive who can snatch an unimaginable treasure from beneath the muzzles of countless railguns. And if this foulmouthed Belter thug doesn’t want to cooperate, she’ll find a way to force him. She’s come too far to give up now.

She has a plan.

They’re about to find out that a plan is a list of things that won’t happen.

Order your copy of Theft of Fire today

FROM SCOTT MCCREA: Tom Mix And The Wild West Christmas: A Western Adventure (Tales of Tom Mix Book 9)

Marshal Tom Mix plans on spending a quiet Christmas at home when he gets an urgent message from Buffalo Bill Cody. The famous showman is doing a special Christmas performance of the Wild West Show for an orphan asylum where he will distribute thousands of dollars’ worth of presents, and he wants Tom to guard them.

When the presents are stolen just before Christmas, Tom and Buffalo Bill team up to find them, resulting in a raucous Christmas Caper that will fill you with holiday cheer!

Join acclaimed Western writer Scott McCrea for this special Christmas book in the Tales of Tom Mix series!

The Critics Say:

“Well done, Mr. McCrea.” – Western author Jeremy Perry

“It’s easy to read; fast paced; packed with action; and full of characters you’re soon rootin’ for, as well as those you can’t wait to meet a grizzly end. It’s great fun to read.” – Western author Andrew Weston

“Scott McCrea’s prose is tight and smooth, and delivers a fair number of smiles.” — Evan Lewis, Davy Crockett’s Almanack

“Recommended!” — Jeff Arnold’s West

“Looking forward to the next one!” — Toby Roan, Fifty Westerns From the Fifties Blog

FROM HOLLY CHISM: Pendragon Resurgent (Legends Book 2)

Life is much better when nobody is trying to kill you.

Sara Hawke, now a university professor, has had five years where nobody was trying to kill her…if you don’t count her course load’s grading. Five years of watching over and helping raise orphaned young dragons.

Her comfortable life comes to an end when she’s attacked by Eastern Dragons, once again—this time, though, her attackers aren’t in the ruling elite. She’s in for the fight of her life again, only this time, Mordred is on the other side of the world, and she must first reach his side before they can succeed.

The running fight to survive brings to light old treachery, blackest magic…and new hope and new allies.

FROM ANNA FERREIRA: Christmas at Blackheath

Agnes Rawlins would never dream of showing a melancholy face to her brother’s guests. She may be a spinster, and treated little better than any common housekeeper, but she is responsible for bringing Christmas cheer into the dark and rambling Blackheath Manor, and she does not shirk her duty, even when she has little reason to celebrate.

William Marlowe, Viscount Claridge, has reluctantly accepted an invitation to spend the Christmas season at Blackheath. It’s not his first choice- how anyone could wish to spend time in the gloomy manor house is beyond him- but when he meets the kind and gentle lady of the house, he finds that Christmas at Blackheath might not be so bad after all.

FROM KAREN MYERS: Broken Devices: A Lost Wizard’s Tale (The Chained Adept Book 3

CHAINS WITHOUT WIZARDS AND A RISING COUNT OF THE DEAD.

The largest city in the world has just discovered its missing wizards. It seems the Kigali empire has ignited a panic that threatens internal ruin and the only chained wizard it knows that’s still alive is Penrys.

The living wizards and the dead are not her people, not unless she makes them so. All they have in common is a heavy chain and a dead past — the lives that were stolen from them are beyond recall.

What remains are unanswered questions about who made them this way. And why. And what Penrys plans to do to find out.

FROM LEIGH KIMMEL: Time Slips

What if our most treasured verities were in fact wrong?

To be selected for Project Mercury and be one of America’s first astronauts was a dream come true for test pilot Deke Slayton. But fellow Mercury astronaut Al Shepard kept telling old stories from his native New England, tales of monstrous entities like Cthulhu and Yog Sothoth. Earlier generations had viewed them as demons, but might they in fact be aliens, here long before humanity?

Soon Deke discovers evidence that something is watching the US space program. Something that begrudges humanity the stars and would put a ceiling on human attainment. Something that can manipulate time itself.

HP Lovecraft wrote that we dwell on a placid island of ignorance amidst the dark ocean of infinity, and that we were not meant to travel far.

What might the US space program have looked like in a cosmos filled with hostile eldritch entities? Would they notice us as playthings? Or as a nuisance to be dealt with?

Vignettes by Luke, Mary Catelli and ‘Nother Mike.

So what’s a vignette? You might know them as flash fiction, or even just sketches. We will provide a prompt each Sunday that you can use directly (including it in your work) or just as an inspiration. You, in turn, will write about 50 words (yes, we are going for short shorts! Not even a Drabble 100 words, just half that!). Then post it! For an additional challenge, you can aim to make it exactly 50 words, if you like.

We recommend that if you have an original vignette, you post that as a new reply. If you are commenting on someone’s vignette, then post that as a reply to the vignette. Comments — this is writing practice, so comments should be aimed at helping someone be a better writer, not at crushing them. And since these are likely to be drafts, don’t jump up and down too hard on typos and grammar.

If you have questions, feel free to ask.

Your writing prompt this week is: LIGHT

We Shall Have A Great Simplification

The desire for simplicity in humans is a recurring dream, like equality and fraternity and such. It is also always bad news when it’s applied outside the individual.

“I want to simplify my life” is okay, if often misguided if not thoroughly thought through and negotiated, because “simplicity” has trade offs and most of what you’ll think will make your life very simple will actually make it massively more complicated in the details or in ways you didn’t think of.

There are two ways I can think of to truly simplify one’s life, and the results of it are not as straightforward as it might seem. And the tradeoffs, ooh, boy, the tradeoffs:

One is to become addicted to a drug, such that it’s all you think about every moment you’re awake. I have read enough biographies of former addicts to know that what they were looking for, in some ways was simplicity. They might express it as “to stop hurting” or “to escape” but the truth is that what happens is their life is massively simplified because ONLY THE DRUG matters. Acquiring it, using it, rinse, repeat.

Of course the problem with that is that drug use itself brings massive complications, from the decay of your own internal “thinker” and “feeler” to well… what you do to acquire drugs which often even in places it’s legal, as your need grows and your ability to work for it decreases, often involves very complicated and dangerous relationships to other human beings.

The other way is religious conversion, particularly if you join a monastery or convent, where life is by design simple and ordered, in the sense you don’t have to think about anything or what you’ll do next (if you pick the right order.) All those decisions are made for you.

Of course, in many ways, the convent or monastery has its own issues. Read any life of a saint whose superior hated him or her, and how difficult it was to navigate the personal relationships.

The way out of it of course is to become a saint, which makes things very, very simple. I think. Or very complicated. I wouldn’t know. I’m as far from sainthood as an earthworm is from a star.

But when the “We need to return to simple ways” is applied in the collective it’s always a danger sign, and the result is always hell on Earth. It also always ends up in tyranny.

A lot of the “communes” of the sixties and seventies were a desire for that simplicity without the spartan religious faith of religious orders. We know how many of them slid into cult of personality, madness and even complex murder plots. (Beyond Jim Jones.) Well, I know it, because I read a lot of true crime, now and then. (Usually when profoundly depressed.)

And the current simplification movement seems to consist of a lot of posturing and posing by people who grew up very wealthy indeed. So, you’ll have people who were given expensive cars for their 16th birthday talking about how you should never have more than you can take with you in a small pull-behind trailer. Or people who can actually afford mansions at 20 talking about the joy of tiny houses. (BTW tiny houses are insane. there is nothing in them you can’t get in a very basic, used RV. And when their prices start being the same as of a small NEW RV, what’s the point? Other than of course classism. Makes you think.)

The most ridiculous one is “you’ll own nothing and be happy.”

There is no such thing as owning nothing and being happy, and it has absolutely nothing to do with greed. It has to do with self ownership.

If you can’t own the basics of what keeps you alive — clothes, a shelter, food — you don’t own your own life. It’s sort of like joining a monastery, of course, but one without religious faith, and run by large, foreign entities of dubious morality. They will abuse you, use you as an object, and you really won’t like what they demand of you for your daily rice-bowl.

Your ancestors knew, when they fought against tyrannical band-leaders, and often struck out with their favorite spear and the skin of the animals they, themselves had hunted and cured.

Note I’m not the person standing here saying you need to be as rich as possible, and live a massively complicated life to be happy.

I’m one of the very lucky people who had to face that and make that decision. Oh, not in a big way. I was never offered a million dollars — any of the people reading this for whom that’s pocket change who has a million dollars, I’m willing to test this in those circumstances. Come on! — or any such great amount. It’s just for about a year and a half Dan made about double what he’d made up to that point. What it required… Was a traveling job, which meant we spent a lot of that on stuff like going out to eat when he was home, so that I didn’t have to spend time away from him. Taxes were also next level. But more importantly we realized we simply weren’t willing to pay the price for increased income. (Which boiled down to about an extra 10k a year, after all the extra expenses/taxes. Nothing to sneeze at but–)

This forced us to think of exactly what price we were willing to pay, and what we could live on. So, I realized I didn’t actually want to have the sort of extreme money where all our work, all the time, would be for us to administer our wealth.

As an example, I gave up on the idea of becoming so massively successful that I could have several houses. It sounds great. Like Agatha Christie, I love the idea of houses and decorating houses, and not having to worry about selling them. … but I can think through it, as well. Agatha Christie came from a culture where you — of course — also got at least a general servant and housekeeper per house. If you have to pic administration companies for each house, keep an eye on everything, etc… You know what? I’d rather rent a hotel room when I go somewhere, even if I do it repeatedly. Not as much fun, granted, but much simpler.

Basically, my goal for simplification and a simple life is to have enough money to live on, so I don’t have to think of if I can afford this little thing I’d like, and I don’t have to think about how much I spend at the grocery store, or how much the car is going to cost to fix, etc. And to have enough time to write and pay someone to do the other tasks. (In this perfect world, it’s easy to find handymen and craftsmen to do stuff.)

There are auxiliary bits to this, of course. For a truly simple life, you should be as healthy as possible, which imposes a discipline of its own, I guess. (I’m so falling down on this.)

After that it gets murky. People try to be “simple” by giving up all attachments and worldly relationships and connections, but for a certain type of mind — mine — I’d go completely insane and massively complicate my life by going inside and analyzing everything to bits.

I’ve found that one way for me to simplify, or at least calm my emotions, is to surround myself with people and pets I love. That way I can concern myself with them, and ignore the complicated and confused crosswaves of thought and feel. (Also, it makes me happy to have people and pets I love. And yes, the kittens are coming along fine. They’ve almost completely given up on waking me up by chewing my toes, and are now learning to wake me up by lying down on my chest and purring till they’re petted.)

One final caution on simplicity, which our side of the political isle is particularly prone to: “In simpler times.”

Someone on Twitter was referring to one of the founders as a “simple” man. It made me giggle considering how complicated and well read, and well thought they were.

Past times might seem simple to you, because you know how it ended.

It is true that people, in general, had less options and fewer things, but trust me, this doesn’t make anyone’s life simpler. Because it makes you think about you know, where the next meal comes from, or it leaves you alone with your thoughts more, and those can get verah complicated indeed.

In fact, most cries for simplification in the personal — whether the example used is a future utopia “you’ll own nothing and be happy; or the simple, good old days, which weren’t — and a desire to regress to childhood, when the world seemed simple because we were taken care and failed to see the complex choices and trade offs.

And in the plural the desire to simplify “society” or “the way people live” it boils down to: “All those people doing things I disapprove of should stop it already.”

That way lies enormous complication, death, famine, and hell comes on its heels.

Choose your own level of complexity and live with it, and stop concerning yourself with how simple or complicated the life of others is.

Stars In Their Eyes

This is one of those practical posts I have to do from time to time.

I’m not going to cover everything, so there might be a guest post on this later.

First, before you start, will the gentleman in the back stop chewing gum quite so loudly? please note the pinned post at the top of the blog. The books on sale have rolled over. And yes, as of right now there’s only one, but two more will join on the 9th.

Thank you. Now, let’s resume our unscheduled insanity explanation of rating and reviews, particularly for books, not that anyone is hinting at anything ever, but also for things like etsy, ebay, etc.

Many years ago, before we moved from the house downtown, older son and I opened a “bookshop” on Amazon. You see, we had a lot of used/second hand/lightly used because someone had given them to me and I didn’t care enough about them, books that I was never ever going to use. A lot of them were reference books, accumulated over 20 years. And I was never likely to use them again.

For explanation, I used to accumulate a lot of tangential historical and such references, because as a pro I was likely to get called to do a story for an anthology on “Cats in Egypt” or something equally off the wall, and the defense was to have a lot of references, so I could check quickly and go “Oh, yeah, I can do that.”

But research for short stories, as opposed to novels, is the sort of thing that can now — and could by 2013 — be done with a quick scramble through the web, if you know how to cull good information from bad. So, I had a lot of reference books I could get rid of, because the chances of my writing a novel set, say, in Mexico before the Spaniards arrived was very very low. (But a short story might be requested.)

There were various reasons the endeavor failed after about 6 months, and we ended up having to donate something like 4000 books. (Yes, you read that right, hence the attempt to sell them, and donating them when that failed. We still moved over 5k for things I intend to work in again. What the kids will do with all that after I’m gone is a puzzle.)

One was that after about three months the market fell out from under the books. We were positioned at just that point when people seemed to be giving up on paper books. (Judging by the amount of FREE bookshelves on craigslist too.) That’s just our luck, okay? And there seems to be a come back in those, from the reader side, but I suspect that’s a dead cat bounce, related to preparedness for a possible fall of civilization. When the turmoil doesn’t work that way, it will go away again.

But before that we’d run into problems that made the whole thing onerous. One was that there were (perhaps there still are?) a lot of scammers, that do things to the book, or claim the book arrived destroyed, and are you going to refund it. I immediately made it a point of asking for pictures. Never came. The person would vanish. But complaints affected your rating.

The other thing that affected your rating was stars. And because we were just a woman and a young man, not a bookstore staff, and we didn’t frankly have much margin (probably priced too low, but we wanted to sell) we shipped media mail. Which could get interesting. So we started getting three stars because the book was too slow to arrive, or the packaging was torn, or — things we had no control over.

Note there was nothing substantive and negative, just piddly stuff. But our rating dropped, and our appearance in searches dropped, until we were selling almost nothing, the books needed to be got out of the house, and we spent a couple of weeks just boxing and donating, after closing the shop.

Now I’m 99% sure the people who gave three star ratings didn’t mean for that to happen. And the ones where the book took a long time had a right to do that, because, well… been there too. And the ones where the packaging was torn probably thought they were giving us valuable information. But the ones — and there were more than a few — who rated with three stars and said something like “It’s a book. It got here on time. it’s as described. What more can I say?” Those are the ones that made me pull my hair out.

They are up there with the people who leave reviews for fiction that say something like “I liked this book. It was perfectly enjoyable.” And give three stars. I know some of these people. heck, some are friends. And if you ask them why they say “Well, three stars is for a normal book I liked,” “Four is for something extraordinary that I’m going to hand sell to all my friends.” “Five is for one of those rare perfect books that I’ll re-read twice a year and will stay with me for the rest of my life.”

Look, you’re right. I’m not disputing that you’re right. THAT’s what the rating SHOULD be.

The problem is that this is not what the rating means, from the POV of the corporation that is creating algorithms that allows people to find my book, or, alternately, decides it’s a defective product and buries it so deeply even people looking by name and author can’t find it.

Because you see, the problem is you’re thinking of a grading system for BOOKS. And in a grading system for “How good do I think this book is?” the middle — 3 — is what most books WILL be. And it will mean “perfectly enjoyable. Would read more like it.” And four is better than that and five is just about perfect. Right? I get it.

As book readers, we would appreciate that system, because it would tell us something like “Most people found this book enjoyable. That means it’s okay for an afternoon.” Or “wow, it’s nothing but five stars. Let me read the comments to see if it’s some insanely partisan thing. No? Wow. I have to read this.”

That would be great, if it worked like that, and save me a ton of time wading through insanity in hip boots trying to find something I won’t wall in five minutes.

UNFORTUNATELY THIS IS NOT A RATING SYSTEM FOR BOOKS.

Yes, Amazon applies it to books. But it’s not a rating system for books. Or, for etsy and such, a rating system that applies or should apply to any small business with handmade product.

What it is is a rating system for widgets, which are shipped out from a factory by dedicated personnel.

Your order a banana cutter, say, and if it doesn’t arrive when it said it would, you deduct a star because it was a day late. Or you give it three stars because it arrived a day late, and the box was smooched. Below that it’s serious problems.

Note, this is not a matter of taste, or “there’s a small problem on x, so two stars.”

When you order a widget, it should arrive on time and perform as described. That’s it. If it does that, it’s five stars.

So if it’s less than five stars, Amazon — and ebay, and etsy, and etc — penalizes you. Because you’re not performing as you should.

Of course, as illustrated above, there are always *ssholes, even when rating shipping and products, but this is particularly pronounced in books and readers, because well… it shouldn’t be that way.

How the book looks or is delivered, or if it matches the description, has nothing to do with whether an individual reader enjoys it. My husband and I share, among other things, a library, and our tastes run fairly close, but even there they’re not the same. He liked one particularly “witchy mystery” series which I forbid him from even mentioning scenes from. He thought the scenes were adorable, but they read to me as twee and talking down to the reader, and I could feel IQ points dropping off my ears every time he talked about it. So his review of those books would probably be 5 stars, and mine 1. Okay, mine would probably be 3 for “it’s okay but get this off my face, already.” If either of us had reviewed, which we don’t because we’re both authors, and Amazon has issues with authors reviewing books. (Don’t ask. It’s stupid, is what it is. But I also understand why. Sometimes the only way to stop mega-scams, usually not in-country is a stupid rule.)

So, while the “real” star rating as it should be for books, would indeed be a wondrous thing and save us a lot of trouble, that’s not what we have. And given how Amazon approaches business, your doing it your way isn’t going to convince them either.

What it’s going to do is hurt the writer (or crafter, or small seller.)

Because if my rating is something like 4 stars overall, Amazon will assume the books kind of stink on ice, and just disappoint everyone, and so will shuffle me to the end of the pack.

Also putting in a three star review because “there’s a typo on page seven” is what’s known as a “dick move” because frankly, everything has a typo somewhere, even trad pub that has a lot more readers and copyeditors. Yes, it’s a quality issue, but in the realm of books it’s like saying “It exists.” Or “this carafe is a terrible tool to dig in my flowerbeds with.”

Oh, yeah, also because trad pub buys reviews from services (no, seriously) and doesn’t get penalized, which indies do and can get kicked out for, you also get penalized for having less than a gazillion reviews.

I’m not telling you whether or how to review. That’s between you and your conscience. I’m just going to say this is one of those things that has consequences you probably don’t intend when holding your purist view.

And I’m going to say the star rating isn’t a private “In my mind” thing, but a means of communicating.

Like, in Portugal, grading went from 1 to 20 with 9.5 being passing. But in fact the grading didn’t exist above 14 because anything above was “superhumanly good” by common accord. This was fine in Portugal where university, grad schools and employers looking at an average of 14 realized it was an A, but when I transferred over as an exchange student, the school wanted to know why I’d failed almost all my classes, and did I need remedial?

This is exactly the same thing: in your mind and the minds of purists, and frankly in “how it should be” a book with a 3 star rating is pretty good and you want the next in the series.

But what Amazon sees in that rating is “What an utter pile of cr*p, please don’t show me books by this loser again. In fact, don’t show them to ANYONE.”

So, again, not telling you what to do. But if you like a book or a series, and would like to see more of that or by the author, I’m sorry, but you have to rate it 5. In fact, even if that book wasn’t your fave by the author, but it was okay, and you don’t want to hurt the author, rate it a 5.

I have so far — I can’t review, but I do rate on my kindle — rated a book two stars ONCE. I’ve had many books not to my taste, but that one was not only chock full of typos and grammatical errors, to the point it looked like it was written by a non-english-speaking AI, but it had glaring historical errors in the first four pages, which is as far as I got.

BUT note, that’s one book, in… good lord. Probably tens of thousands. I haven’t counted recently.

The rest? Well, if I don’t hate either the book or the author, I give five stars.

And while I can’t give reviews, because I’m an author, if I could I would. Because there are some amazing books being ignored for not having 100 or 200 or 500 reviews. Again, that is something the Amazon algorithm likes.

I often get told “but I don’t know what to write in a review.”

You really don’t need to write much. “I loved this book” is enough, though it won’t get you “most helpful” status. But it still counts.

If you have a little more time, and it’s not a spoiler you can say the part you liked best. Like “I loved this book. I particularly liked it when the Great Sky Dragon interrupted the wedding” Or whatever. Or “I particularly like that the people all wore purple at the same time without planning.” Anything like that is catnip to the author who likes knowing their little jokes or cute scenes were appreciated.

If you really are bucking for “most valuable” you usually give a little synopsis. So, for Draw One in the Dark and touting my own horn, mostly because I don’t want to offend anyone by doing theirs and doing it wrong (Blanket mice were hunted at six am, okay?):

“This is an urban fantasy but not quite in the ordinary way. To begin with it takes place in the diner, and to continue, it involves a group of young friends who are just discovering they are shape shifters, and what this means.

All this while a mysterious series of deaths has the town on edge, and the dragon triad is looking for a thief.

It’s exciting and interesting, but even the shape shifting doesn’t involve a magical element, which makes it unusual.”

Something like that will be helpful to other readers, and bump the book, because it’s a review. Oh, if you give it five stars, of course.

Unless, of course, you want indie authors to starve.

No pressure.

<Exits stage left, pursued by a reading bear.

Nature, Tooth, claw And All

Yesterday, by accident, at night, I read about the barbaric things done to women in Israel by the Hamass terrorist attack on 10/7. I enjoin you not to follow that link, if you don’t want my nightmares last night.

And I woke up and was thinking… well, about a lot of things.

The only thing unusual about the way Hamass treated those women (and children) is that they killed most of them. Unusual, I mean from an historical perspective.

I was thinking of the rape of the Sabines, upon which the founding of Rome rested. Bunch of young braves, (given Romulus and Remus’s origin probably expelled from some community for being outlaws) claims land, then kills all men in a neighboring tribe and kidnaps every woman: crone, pregnant mother, young woman, barely pubescent child, rapes them and sometimes — sometimes — marries them. “Marries” them.

There are certain beats to this horror throughout history. And variables. Whether old women are killed is a variable. How young the age of “women” kidnapped is another. We know for a fact Plains Indians kidnapped girls as young as 6 and subjected them to the same treatment as all women. The horrific beats of this treatment included beatings, starving and serial rapes. It might or might not include the killing of the first child born. (Why? well, because it could be the woman’s murdered husband’s.) And everyone was subjected to this, from very young to very old.

The purpose, evolutionary was to break these women, to give them what was later described as Stockholm syndrome, so that they would, by the time they were given to a single man, cling to him as a protector and give him all their loyalty. So that they became willing broodmares for those who had killed their own families in front of them.

These stories are no longer told. Not the deep past ones because women have been lied to and told of some mythical past of powerful women who could have whatever men they wanted and no one was “judged.” (Oh, and there was no property, etc.) Marina Gimbutas should take a bow for her fraudulent insane theory of pre-history here. You know, the one where all the bulls heads were interpreted as uteri and she sold the story of a great, pacifist feminist religion, which somehow — inexplicably — was destroyed by the evil patriarchy, even though every one, men and women were much happier under matriarchy. (Everyone who really, really, really wants the crazy people to stop rewriting Eden and calling it science join me. We’re going to throw plastic ducks at them till they stop. This might stop us having to buy a fleet of helicopters. In minecraft.)

And even the relatively recent incidents in American history are never mentioned, because that would be raccciiiiiis. They were neither rare nor did they use to be hidden. If you check your local library you’ll probably find some in the older local history books. But they are so taboo to even be mentioned that some young twit on twittex was talking about how there was no rape in the Americas before the white men came. White men invented rape.

In a way she’s correct, but only so far as the concept of rape demands the acceptance of women as beings who can say no and have personal agency. This was utterly unknown for most people’s throughout history until the advent of Judaic-Christian morality and it was surpassingly rare until Western Civilization became a thing. And therefore there was no “rape” because you can’t rape a table or a chair, and women were perceived as things, just as those objects are things.

I’m fairly sure this is still going on in most of the world, where tribal culture prevails, but again, it would never be mentioned, because “racism.”

(And yes, as the dog returns to his vomit and the sow to her mire, someone will come to explain to me that the poorly understood and less well known culture xyz of the deepest Amazon had in fact the deepest respect for women and– Maybe. But that’s not the way to bet. In the immense variety of the human race, it’s bound to have emerged and disappeared a few times. But for any given culture until western Civ, that’s not the way to bet.)

But it actually has zero to do with race. It’s all culture. ALL culture. And it’s baseline human, before Western civilization.

Because that’s fairly recent, insofar as the history of the world goes, you probably are descended from at least 25% of such couplings, regardless of where you’re from. Given my ancestry and the wars involved, probably more.

The fact that women are weaker, men are stronger and that women are the only ones who can bear that precious commodity: the next generation, sets us up for this dynamic. To be fair to most human cultures throughout history, aka tribal cultures, men weren’t exactly non-objects either. A few of the men, the ones who managed to rise above the others might have agency and be considered human beings, but anyone who was poor, vulnerable, or just not part of the tribe, was a thing, to be disposed of or pushed around as it suited his “betters.” (Our “betters” still think this way.) And it had nothing to do with patriarchy that women rarely (though sometimes, but very rarely) made the class of deciders and pushers-around. It had to do with physical strength, in a day and age where everything from producing food to defending yourself depended on that.)

That is the state of nature — human nature — red in tooth and claw. If you were a woman you were always, your whole life, at risk of a raid, and having your entire family and community destroyed, and being subjected to a fate literally worse than death.

We’ve risen above it in pockets of time and places here and there, by effort and civilization. Western civilization.

But we’re teaching innocent children — particularly females — the opposite of that. We’re teaching them that if they help destroy the civilization that protects them and makes their lives peaceful, and allows them the dignity and choice that humans should have is the oppressor. We’re teaching them that if they destroy it, they will revert to Eden, where everyone was free, didn’t have to work and there was no sin.

And with what glee these pampered daughters of good and plenty have set to work.

Teach the children well. Not tenderly, but well. Which includes making them aware of the horrors of the past.

Lest they come again.

Keep Your Hair On

Some of you seemed to think my post yesterday referred to a sort of apocalypse or disaster. That’s not what I meant. The only ominous part about it is that things we’ve learned to take for granted, like, oh, long distance travel and money enough to do it might not be for some for a while.

For the record, they weren’t when I was young. People are always puzzled that growing up in Europe, I never went to the major touristic points. Well, you know, I flew for the first time at 18 when I came to the US. And while I once had a Euro rail pass, I used it to get a summer job and travel to and from. And we were not poor, not by the time I was a teen. Oh, not rich, either, unless you were looking from very far down (say where mom started.) I once asked grandma what our “class” was because we were learning Marx, you know, and I’d had an argument with a friend whose father made about double what dad did, but spent it differently, and she said we were upper class because we had books, and we decorated our house better. So I asked. Grandma sat there for a while thinking, and then said “We’re the class that makes do.” Since then I’ve taken great pride in this. I was born the class that makes do. And we still are. (In fact, in my case, the great problem is whether I allow myself to not “make do.” Right now I’m debating whether to buy a tripod ladder to paint the front of the house. Look, I don’t want to fall. OTOH it’s expensive, and I have a ladder, and I can make do. Yeah. I know. I probably should buy it. Still cheaper than paying someone to do it. But argh. Either I’m old, or everything has gotten crazy expensive.) Anyway, that nice excursion on why class is insane aside, the truth is that we couldn’t afford to travel far or on a whim. Our big trips were train or bus, and usually for dire necessity. So, we might fall into that for a while. Which would be okay, if the country weren’t so large and my family here dispersed (let alone the ones overseas. I have not yet met great-nephews.)

The thing I’m warning about is not apocalypse, but major disruption. And a disruption neither I nor anyone can predict. In fact, the nature and size of this disruption should put paid to the notion of “rule by experts” to the extent the last three years haven’t yet.

Now will it disrupt travel? Or merely remove burdensome restrictions, so travel actually flourishes? I don’t know. Will food be scarce? Arguably, some places. If you haven’t yet and can, grow some. Or, you know, acquire some next Spring, if we get there intact, and dehydrate and store. Will electricity go away? For some time some places, probably. I mean, blackouts are always possible, and when the economy is in turmoil they’re even more possible. Will they lock us down again? Well, it depends. I think they’re going to try. If the try gets past what we had since we stopped being locked down, (Them:”There’s terrible disease X somewhere, be TERRRIFIED” Us: “Nah bra.” Them, run around in circles for a while, then “There’s terrible disease X somewhere, be TERRIFIED.”) is anyone’s guess. Some places, maybe. Will they try to inflict famine on the people? They’ve been trying, and failing that, they just keep publishing articles saying people are starving. Look, some people are very tight indeed and the rest of us are feeling a pinch. And I’ll fully believe more people are hitting the food banks. Particularly around this time, because I doubt the money for presents is high, and people will want to give the kids at least SOMETHING, so if they can get groceries for free. But we’re not Venezuela, let alone Ukraine during Holodomor. For one, if there were real hunger, not manufacture via survey hunger, the ubiquitous urban geese would be gone. And that deer who keeps nibbling your tomato plants would be in someone’s freezer.

We have a deep fund of wealth in real terms: much more clothing than we need, much more food than we need, houses that are weather-worthy (for the most part) and health better than our ancestors at the same age. We won’t be easy to topple.

Even in Ukraine, Holodomor was only possible because the army confiscated ever handful of grain people had stored. But you see…. we’re armed, and right now they’re not sure of the army. (Their attempts to enlist a foreign army is something else. Kind of like what Rome did, I guess. But even then, I betcha our veterans will eat their non-cohesive army of many pieces and indifferent literacy for breakfast and not notice.)

We really are a unique place in composition and living in a unique time. So their attempts to reduce us using historical techniques (they really only have one script) hasn’t worked and is as likely to work as their screams of “hand us all your guns now, this time we mean it.” And they don’t fully understand it. For which I shouldn’t sneer at them (oh, but I will. If nothing else, because they call themselves smart) because half on our side don’t understand it either.

Yes, history repeats, but not exactly the same, because factors are different. And the problem in accounting for every factor, and not just half a dozen cherry picked ones to support the speaker is why history is not scientific and ruled by formulas. For one, the individual human factor is, by itself, unaccountable. How many times do you think you know how someone will react — someone you know and have close association with — and they surprise you with something completely wonderful or horrible that you never even considered? Now multiply that by 300 million or so (Heaven only knows how many of us truly are.)

Look, the left is relatively easy to predict, because they have one guide book, and they adhere to it. And when not following it line by line, they follow the spirit of it and the bizarre idea that humanity are widgets, easily divided into groups, where everyone acts like everyone else in that group. So their errors of judgement and logic are easy to predict.

But reality is not leftist. In fact, since the nineties, it’s become increasingly obvious there’s a yawning chasm between what the left thinks they’re doing and what they are actually doing.

There are several bits of psy-ops floating around that amount to “Everything is proceeding the way the left wants it.”

That’s kind of easy to say, because we know — and have caught them at it — the left ultimately hates civilization, humanity, and life itself. (They’re sort of like the auditors in Terry Pratchett. Only immobile rocks would satisfy them.)

But the thing is that’s not their normal mode, or what they act from, or what they think they act from. They think they’re acting from good. They hate civilization, because the noble savage would flourish in concert with nature, and then everyone would be happy. They hate humanity because why do we refuse to be the noble savages of their dreams? They hate life itself, because why is nature red in tooth and claw? Can’t the lions be vegetarians already? And so on. Their “Hatred” is from a place of frustration because reality refuses to conform to their dreams. The problem is they really think that their crazy ideas, which they have been taught in schools since they were 3 or so will work and make everyone happy and contented in Marxist paradise.

When they say “you’ll own nothing and be happy” they really mean it, because they’ve been fed a lot of nonsense about a pre-history when there was no property and no war. (This has no relationship with real history or humans of any sort, but it is taught in schools, nonetheless. It is just really an heretical version of the Garden of Eden.) When they tell us to eat the bugs, they really really think that would work (look what they don’t know about animal husbandry, farming or nutrition could fill several blogs bigger than this one.) When they say they want to eliminate fossil fuels, it’s because they believe that there are solutions which the evil oil industry has been evilly suppressing to make money (for mustache wax, so they can twirl their mustaches, of course.)

My window into this was Occasional Cortex. And yes, I know we love to make fun of her as being very, very stupid. But I don’t think she is, in reality. I think she’s a midwit, maybe a little higher IQ than her cohort, and what most schools would call “gifted” (which means an ability to behave and kiss up to teacher, but that’s something else.) However, even if she were as dumb as we all think, her admission, buried in Green New Deal was a shock to me. What admission? She said we should maybe ask “Native Americans” how to live in harmony with and restore the environment.

This made my jaw drop. Even if you buy the whole noble savage in perfect harmony with the Earth thing — and you might, if you are completely lacking in historical knowledge at all — how on Earth did she miss that most “Native Americans” these days are mostly people living in reservations on the government dole, (not of their choice in the beginning, yeah, but inescapable now) or maybe successfully running casinos? Or you know, normal people who have some percentage of Amerindian? I mean, my husband has some (from certain issues in one of the sons), my DIL almost for sure, my prospective DIL almost for sure (they haven’t tested.) According to 23 and me I have more than Elizabeth Warren (not much, no. And probably from Brazil, since US tribes refuse to be tested, by and large. And no, no idea how or where, except my guess would be some ancestor brought a souvenir home.)

I don’t know guys, but I think the chances of “Native Americans” such as they exist in current days magically having some kind of magical ecological knowledge is fairly slim. Even if they’d ever had it.

But remember the left thinks of people as groups, and groups controlled by one characteristic, usually genetic (Lord love a duck, Hitler would adore them.) Therefore if you have Amerindian blood, you magically know how to “heal the environment.” You are in fact a Disney “Native American” singing while forests grow around you, and deer gambol with bears.

If you realize this crazy not only came from the pen of someone who is university educated, but was undoubtedly vetted by her staffers, and then embraced by her side of the isle, you realize what we’re up against.

It’s not so much that they’re at war with reality. It’s that they don’t realize what they were taught since they learned to toddle — in school, entertainment and “news” — isn’t really reality.

In other words, they know a lot of things that just ain’t so.

And that’s what’s brought us here. Because when they decided to perform a color revolution in 20, they really thought once they took over and instituted their great plans over the heads of the “idiot” populace utopia would come about, and we’d all love them and praise them.

There is a desperation in the way they keep insisting the economy is fine, or stomping their little hooves and trying to stamp out “disinformation.” It’s because they don’t understand why open borders, printing tons of money, insisting on DEI and a lot of other crazy hasn’t already ushered in extreme prosperity and improvement.

No, I’m serious. Remember for years I moved in the Science Fiction community, amid people of arguably much higher IQ than the general population and better “informed” and “read” than 98% of people.

If I had a dime for every time I heard them go on about how if only Carter had been elected and carried on with his “reforms” we’d now (circa early 2k) would be so wealthy, and the environment would be healed, and we’d already have colonies in space, I wouldn’t be at risk from even hyper inflation. I’d also have all the hair I pulled out in my hotel room while screaming in frustration at the total crazy. And yes, these were almost always people who’d lived under Carter.

… but that’s the problem.

Nothing has turned out as they expected. And things are coming apart in weird and scary ways they can’t comprehend. And their screaming and pointing at a scape goat (which in their minds is the real culprit, having hypnotized us all into not believing the wonderfulness of the economy and their rule.) isn’t working. Their importing vast numbers of people who can tan and are therefore enlightened and perfect Marxists also isn’t working. So all they can do is double down and believe twice as hard. (We haven’t reached the “offer sacrifices to the cargo cult yet.” or not widespread, yet.)

The problem is that the idiot children have hit so many things with hammers, and keep doing it as they double down, that we can’t predict it either.

I don’t pay any attention to their news and economics analysis, other than to point and laugh. Any coincidence with reality is mere … coincidence.

On the other hand, because of where and when I grew up, I speak fluent “other signs.” And because you are all spread all over the country and have more and diverse occupations than I could dream up if I tried, I get reports. And the reports are scaring me.

Now you could say — and would be right — that most of the Odds are in Odd occupations, even when they’re traditional. I think a lot of you work for yourselves, but there are also those who work for others, usually in strange, off-beat side occupations. You’d be right. And maybe we’re hit before the rest of the people, but I don’t think so. I think we just think about it.

You don’t hear of how much trouble people in tech are having finding jobs, because complaining is less likely to allow you to find a job, but I see it in my inbox, and it’s gone way beyond a blip. You don’t hear about how strained various social nets are with the influx of illegals, but I get pms and emails.

Now do I have a good picture? Oh, h*ll no. I have a lot of pieces of a vast jigsaw. But I can’t tell for sure where the pieces go. And the tail of the cat looks just like the rug. But I can still guess what’s assembling is not a beautiful, serene, fireside scene.

However, add to this that we were already headed for turmoil. Even if we had an ideal government, that left things mostly alone, we were headed for turmoil and upside down-ness.

As a lot of you pointed out in the comments, computers and the internet is a major disruption factor. One they (the broad left) didn’t see coming. (They ain’t very good at predicting.) They could tell space travel would be a majorly disruptive factor, because they have read the history of discoveries. So they’ve squatted on space travel and done everything possible to prevent it, including the ridiculous cry of “We should not go to space till we learn to take care of this planet.” BUT computers? They thought it was just something that would speed up calculations, and hey, it might help them control the people.

But it doesn’t work that way. Even with their attempts at censorship more information and reality escapes than it did when they just had to control newspapers. (Obama isn’t revered as FDR. The effort they made was arguably larger for Obama.) And much as they control the schools, kids keep escaping.

I don’t know what they thought they were going to achieve with lockdown. I have reason to believe, from their own bleatings (“the new normal”) that they thought they could keep us locked up for that, while they did as they pleased. However, I predicted then, and still am, what it actually did is bring “Telecommuting” from a wild and woolly strange way of living to “What most people who work via a computer” do. And they can scream and cry that’s only 20% of people. I’d bet these days it’s closer to 40%. But that’s not the point. it’s the knock on effects. Those people lived in cities, mostly, of necessity, and the countryside was dying. And the cities flourished with support professions: shop keepers, and restaurateurs, and various support people.

For twenty years, it’s been possible for some largish percentage of people to work from home. How many? I don’t know. Again, I suspect more than the talking heads think, but all the numbers are corrupt.

So, why weren’t we? The “normalcy” of what’s been for a long time holds sway over “what could be”. It always does. Innovation has to come as something small that slips in. Also, companies were invested in commercial real estate, and they didn’t want their offices to devalue. Also, people were used to going to work every day. I mean, it’s just the way it was.

Dan and I are weird in that, since our twenties, our ideal situation would have been to work from home. I did. He couldn’t though by 2018 he was, at least some days a week.

And then 2020.

And now most people simply don’t want to go back. This was never anticipated. The number of people that moved away from blue states, and away from large cities shocked the left.

What shocked them even more, and another number we can’t get, is how many people took kids out of the school system to homeschool. (And they should be terrified. Even people who, just before, told me they simply couldn’t, are somehow managing now. And any young couple you speak to, who is having kids, is already studying how to homeschool.) Speaking of and as a tangent, as it happens one of the things I have no visibility into is daycare. I wonder how those are doing. I realized recently, when I drove past one, that they’re far less visible than they were in the eighties, when I swear there was one in every block. Is this because we have fewer kids, or because fewer women are dropping their kids off at daycare at months old, in order to chase a great “career”? I don’t know.)

In fact, what 2020 and the crazy lockdowns did was let the potentiality for disruption of the computer revolution become fact. And now everything they try to do to recover pushes things in the other direction.

Look, most things that come out of the computer disruption will be good, I think. It’s much harder to tamp down a million voices than to simply purchase newspapers and infiltrate book publishers. And it’s harder to control — physically — a distributed country of small towns. And it’s healthier for kids to grow up with their parents than strangers.

But the way to the “eventually better” is massive Earthquake level disruption. No, Atlantis-sinking disruption. And some of those effects are already baked in. I came across some “expert” bleating that there would be a commercial real estate crisis and giggled. What, he got there now? Welcome to the party, pal.

Now pile on top of that that the people who are supposed to at the very least “shepherd” us through this kind of thing, by seeing what’s happening, and easing the fall so we don’t hurt too badly: perhaps ease regulations, so offices can become apartments; ease up on taxes while service people figure out how to position so they can serve the same population now distributed (I mean, people like repair people, doctors, nurses, retail, etc.), etc. are instead hitting things with a hammer trying to bring about utopia that can only exist in Disney movies, where people are drawn.

That is taking the chaos and taking it to the next level.

My feeling — and again, I could be wrong — is that the economy is coming apart at the seams. Things that “always worked this way” and associations that people used to listen to and things like the WHO or financial experts are coming apart.

Now add to it the demographic factor — which as BGE tells us (often) explains a lot of otherwise inexplicable phenomena — and realize that my generation (the not-boomers and not quite-x) were already massively badly taught. I mean, seriously, compared to my brother say, my training was ridiculous. We compensated for it, though, and because the boomers took so long to retire, we sure had a long apprenticeship. Now we’re…. well…. my husband has made noises about wanting to retire. Everyone our age seems to be doing that. Probably not for a while, I think, as we’re in our early sixties. Then again, some will.

And the people ten years older than us are already retiring or retired.

This would fine and dandy if there were a generation of eager 40 year olds who’ve been on the job for 20 years or so, and are more than ready to step into our shoes, no matter how bad their education was.

Except that because of the elephant-bulge of the boom, and what it did to jobs and economics, let alone what Marx did to education, kids are starting later and later. “jobs that aren’t temp by 30” is a dream for a lot of them.

So the people available to step in are poorly trained and bare beginners. Now some will take the load and do admirably. Hopefully most of our kids. But demographically? There is a huge gap in competency coming up just in the middle of all this.

Because things change as graves fill up, there is a chance for change, too. Real change, where the practical necessities force people to look at reality and not at the theory they were taught in school.

The fact that many companies are paying less attention to degrees, for instance, is one of those good things.

But what we’re looking at is not cataclysm, except to the extent that humans, let alone human societies, don’t deal well with change.

What we’re looking at is a whirlwind of bizarre things none of us can anticipate.

There used to be a poster in the eighties of a discovery ship falling off the edge of the flat Earth. I cannot find it for love or money. Never seems to have been digitized. And my attempts to get midjourney to reproduce something like have failed. (If you’re an artist and want to try it, do)

That image fully encapsulates what I see coming.

To a great extent we’ve been living on a flat Earth. It’s a lie, or at least not true, but for the purposes of our every day lives, it worked and allowed us to predict the future.

It is a construct of the early mass-industrial age, created and coddled by a take over of the mass-industrial-communication and art complex. It is infused with Marx, and doesn’t really fit reality, but it was so prevalent that even a lot of us have it in our heads. It explained the past (by lying), the present (by ignoring what didn’t fit) and the future (by lying again, but also by moving things forward continuously.) It was the “arrow of history” in which the future was always more “progressive”. It still lives in the starry eyes of the children saying “you’ll own nothing and be happy.”

But reality never fit it, or felt any need to obey it, just like the Earth never became flat because people believed it was.

And our ship — metaphorical — is about to sail off the edge of the construct and into reality. Because the construct isn’t holding.

The problem is that reality is unforgiving. There’s going to be a lot of crashing and splintering.

But reality is also not like in movies “and now everyone starves.” For everyone to starve you need a high level of communist control, which they don’t have. Even in Venezuela there are people who “make do” and live reasonably okay lives. There were some at the end of the USSR too.

So, what I was trying to say with the other post: There are things you can predict, and things you can’t. There’s something heading for us at speed, and I’d guess the first impact is somewhere very close, though the biggest might be 20 years from now, that we can’t predict. Not just because we’re not smart enough, or because it’s completely out of our experience, but because we can’t predict it. Period. It’s unpredictable. It’s not written.

Factors will careen into factors, the whole thing creating chaos.

I know it’s possible to continue when currency loses value completely, because this happened well before I was born, in Portugal. But it was a very different country, and I don’t know how they managed, not in details. And it would be different with modern tech anyway. (I’ll just say, feel free to boo, I don’t think crypto is the solution. No matter how much people would like it to be.)

What’s heading for us is… fractal. It will become clearer as we’re closer on. But right now, we just can’t predict it.

Will it be better? Some places, some things, some ways. Will it be worse? Some places, some things, some ways. Will it be catastrophic? Some places, some things, some ways.

In the end we win, they lose. In the middle, all is confusion and turmoil.

So, keep your hair on. It’s impossible to prepare for this, because you don’t know what this will be like, much less in your particular place, occupation, group.

Yeah, sure, basic preparations. Same you’d do if you expected a massive storm. And sure, travel now, because long distance travel is a fragile thing, dependent on a high level of stability and civilization.

And keep your hair on. Don’t go crazy and go imagining things. Suffice onto the day, etc.

If you get really stressed, learn something new, practical or not. Keep your mind nimble.

In the end, remember grandma: Our class of people are the people who make do.

We are free because we don’t ask permission from anyone to be free. We survive because we find ways to survive. We thrive because we find ways to thrive.

We make do. Continue doing so.

Last Call

First, be not alarmed. I’ve had this feeling before and it was wrong, or at least the decay and loss I feared was slow and grinding, not catastrophic and eminent.

Or it applied very personally to me. I mean to an extent 2013 WAS the last summer for our family, not due to catastrophe, but to the boys no longer being kids and things changing markedly. Also to us moving a lot over the next two years. So when I kept getting that feeling of “the last halcyon Summer” I wasn’t wrong. It was just PERSONAL.

And the feeling part of this might be personal, you know? Because, well, I’m over 60 and it’s not like Dan and I don’t have health issues. And while none of them are serious as such, people of my generation have died in their early sixties in my family (mostly of cancer. And of my generation, but older than I, of course. All were older than I, even my brother is.)

BUT–

There are places and things and gatherings we’ve all cherished, and didn’t know the last time was the last. I’m sure we all remember that. Particularly with really familiar places and people. Last visit to grandma and grandpa, for instance, not knowing it was the last, and going through the routine, and thinking of what you were doing next.

Or even with things I really enjoyed and which were a treat, like going to Denver’s Lakeside park with the boys and Dan, and following them around with a book, while they did ALL THE RIDES. (I don’t ride, because of my middle ear, but I enjoyed walking around watching them have fun more than I can say.) I didn’t know the last time was the last time.

Or midnight drives to Denver with older son, to discuss plots over a table at Pete’s. The lockdown stopped those well before he moved away. Or–

Oh, fill in your own. I’m sure you have a couple of dozen, each of you.

Part of the reason I enjoyed a trip back to CO this summer, despite the altitude issues getting worse over five days, is that I got to say goodbye, knowing it was goodbye. (Not saying there won’t be visits, again, but probably not over more than a long weekend. MAYBE.)

Honestly, I also wish I’d enjoyed my writers’ group more before the hammer fell on it on 9/11.

Anyway, I’m having that feeling again like in the summer of 13. Like…. Closing call. Last drink being served.

Only it’s not so much “this is the halcyon summer” but “Do you need to do something that involves travel/takes effort” “is there someone far away you need to hang out with a last time?”

Note this doesn’t fill me with glee, since the earliest I can get to Portugal is May, and I don’t know if that’s before or after it’s too late.

It could be wrong. It could all be wrong. During one of the last trips in our protracted move, younger son and I had rented a van that was convinced there was a slow leak on the right tire. Note it continued telling us that, and only that while the left tire was RIPPED OPEN and we were stopped waiting for AAA to come help. And after.

It could be that. The sensor is broken, and it shows something, but not what is real.

However the reports I’m getting from friends working directly with retail either on their own business or for someone else are starting to give me a sense of baffled panic. Baffled because words like “Worst ever” keep coming up. Cheap things are still selling. Like, stocking stuffer level. And honestly ebooks are still selling, though KU (and knowing how little that pays these days, it will tell you a lot) is now a major part of my earnings.

I don’t get a feeling of “the economy is in trouble.”

I get a feeling of “The wheels are coming off so fast” and “I don’t know how long the mask of normalcy will last.”

Last call. Belly up to the bar. I know the feeling when something or someone dies, and you never got to say goodbye. As I said, that last trip to CO healed something in my soul, because we moved during lockdowns and there were so many unsaid goodbyes.

So, it’s probably nothing. Probably false alarm, or intensely personal. But if you can afford it….

Go say goodbye to places and people cherished. It will give you strength through what’s to come.

Which hopefully is not as insane as I can sort of picture. Not fully picture, because I don’t have the experience for this.

We’re not going to the stone age. Or even the 19th century. But I get a feeling a lot of the “of courses” which are mostly habit, custom and institutions are about to be cast loose into the wind.

And that’s….

Some will be good. Some will be bad. But all will be a maelstrom.

My feeling is we’re approaching the point of singularity, from which there is no return. Afterwards might be better, but it will be very different. Humans don’t actually like different, you know. So that will be a shock, if nothing else.

Very different. Totally uncharted.

This is your last call.