Back From The Dead And Bigger Than Ever

I finally get to use this blog, and a few other resources, to their fullest. It has been a long slog to get here. Not even trying to explain from the beginning. You’ll get it. If you’re fam, fan, starblood, friend or loose acquaintance from the H.P. Lovecraft Film Festival, or some Convention down the years, or from way back when I was just writing and writing and not publishing anywhere, and doing the Open Mics and…well, evolving… If you know me, you kind of know where I’m at and what it took. I’ll fill in the gaps. There’s useful WriterStuff coming, don’t worry. Just warming up the boards, the lightning rig, the house P.A. system. Doing my Idiot Checks and about to take my own mic.

I have Stage-One Multiple Sclerosis. And it is a gift. Because I finally have a name for it. I have experienced symptoms since I was eleven. I have been trying to get Disability since 2011, when those symptoms got rather severe following a complicated surgery to remove a deformity in my lung. I knew there was Something Else. M.S. people say that often. Something Else, hiding. But when I could name her, my Disease and I began to learn to communicate with each other. We’re both stuck here, was my take, so we might as well make like Jackie Chan and Chris Tucker in ‘Rush Hour’ and figure out some sort of common approach, no matter how goofy.

I call her Little Stranger. Took the name from NAKED LUNCH, when he personified his addiction. A Disease is a Disease. Mine’s not necessarily terminal, but she is as mouthy and queeny as William Burroughs on the worst day of his life, and I have learned when to tread lightly. How to put her to sleep…and put her to work.

When she woke up all the way, I was bouncing drunks at a big local Metal club. I loved my work, had over a decade in the field, and treated the nice fans to an experience beyond the ordinary. I had layers of friends through that club, and my crew were like family to me.

Then I woke up with one eye pointing the wrong way, and feeling like I just got beaten with a tire-iron. I went to work two nights before a dear friend who was helping me with the spoken word event I MC here in town told me to go to the hospital RIGHT NOW.

My OHP had lapsed. They thought it was a brain tumor. My family were freaking. My crew, my roommate, my writer peeps, likewise. And yet. And yet.

Something snapped in me, that first day. Something rose up righteous and stayed on the phone with the State for an hour, and chewed ass up and down the line. And then the Opthalmologist, who wanted to bulldog me into a procedure I couldn’t pay for. I got them to send me to someone who would TALK.

That someone is a Neurologist who is on the board of the National M.S. Society, and she turned white as a sheet. There was an MRI same-day. Because she heard the particular timbre of my bitching, and she knew what she saw.

And we slapped it down. Other parts grew more hellish. There is a whole tale, before and after and behind. As I will elucidate.

Because of one moment of change. When I was gray and I couldn’t walk and I had to get up and make all those calls. I went to the sink in my room to splash cold water on my face…

And I saw her. I saw my Disease, baffled and mighty and saurian, newly alive and just wanting to help. I saw her come to the fore, and take my hands. When I had no idea what was going to become of me or what to do… Little Stranger was driving the bus.

Those who know me, and knew me before… Yeah. I talked the nurses out of a notebook and I wrote until I had a spasm. It’s a superhero novel now, after the style of LUKE CAGE and JESSICA JONES…and the whole M.C. U.  And D.C’s HITMAN. And RASHOMON and YOJIMBO and the dear old 47 Samurai. Working on the sequel. It’s called I AM LESION.

That novel, and this disease, wrenched me out of a horrible half-life of misunderstandings and bad blood and old ghosts with big guns. It had to get a lot worse before it got a lot better. It’s gotten the best it has ever been now, and though I have one person to thank profusely first  and many people to thank profusely all over the place….

My fight. Mine. I had to learn to do most of this solo. Many reasons. Again… just switching the blog back on.

Actually got real writerstuff to talk about soon, as mentioned. Dark Regions’ TALES FROM THE ARKHAM ASYLUM drops soon, featuring a horrible recurring nightmare of mine named after an old shit-kicking George Jones/Gene Pitney tune called “And My Shoes Keep Walking Back To You.”

I am about to usher in the sixth year of The Hour That Stretches, a for-the-love-of-the-game Spoken Word happening in the spirit of the old Cafe Lena reads. The first and second volumes in my magnum opus series THERE WAS A CROOKED MAN soon go into Editing. All this and more besides. I have been inspired to keep record of these things again. And I will. Not going ANYWHERE. Not this time.



Edward Morris on KBOO-FM’s “The Talking Earth”, May 21, 2018

This Monday night, KBOO’s spoken word program will feature local fiction writer Edward Morris. Edward Morris is a 2011 nominee for the Pushcart Prize in Literature, also nominated for the 2009 Rhysling Award and the 2005 British Science Fiction Association Award. He has published over 140 short stories since 2002, in markets as diverse as Interzone, Ellen Datlow’s Best Horror of the Year, and The Children of Gla’aki: Tribute Stories to Ramsey Campbell. He has several novels in various stages of small press publication, helps moderate a writing workshop locally, and runs the five-year-old spoken word event The Hour That Stretches at Ford Food and Drink on SE Division every last Sunday of the month. Patrick Bocarde will host.
Several short excerpts from larger works are read, and a short story or two, most notably a new scene from a novel in progress, I AM LESION 2: A LITTLE DROP OF POISON. Really, really enjoyed this. Please support KBOO and stations like it. They are manna for Art.

First Day Of The Rest Of My Life

Bringing this blog back. Just wanted to say, first, that the person who put up all those terrorizing posts before is a very sick person in late middle age who has a lot of mental problems and still lives with her folks. That ‘Moderate Comments’ feature is a gift from the gods, truly.

I won my Disability case.I have just sold THERE WAS A CROOKED MAN and the I AM LESION series is well on its way. I am a part of my daughter’s life again. Now I can get a passport. I can theoretically get a driver’s license, and the student loans will be readjusted a whole lot. I have a lot to think about. Big Power Metal thanks to Dr. Katherine Heatherly/Heatherly Disability Representatives, my “Irish twin”/big sis Holly for bankrolling this delightful enterprise, my long-suffering housemate St. Davey Christ, and everyone else who believed this would work and weren’t dicks. As to the YEARS WITHOUT LIGHT, every obstacle human and otherwise… Oh, there are going to be some wigs on the green. Oh, are there. After a hot bath, a bunch of movies, a couple of doctor appointments…and a good night’s sleep. The sleep of the just.

I won. I WON. I WON. Three years of tears, terror and toil. The loss of everything I deluded myself into thinking that I had. The cognizance of everything I actually do have. The shrieking Little Stranger inside me, the Disease that fires the words. The chance to turn this all into the most brutal, honest, mythic fiction I have ever written, and NOW I GET TO DO IT PERMANENTLY.

Such a relief to be able to speak freely about what I do for the first time. I have edited two self-help books for my distant cousin, psychologist John Raven, who is now writing a business plan with me for a very unique writing service which I would help supervise. I still edit Fiction and nonfiction, though not like it was in the heyday of Craigslist, just one or two folks who are serious repeat offenders…ehem…customers. And I technically just sold a seven-book series, though we’re going one book at a time. Not having to bake the words for Big Brother any more means you all might understand me a LOT better. I’m a centimeter away from being a full-time writer, and I was schooled on this by Lucius Shepard. BRING IT.

Justice prevailed. I won out. People behaved decently. Something happened that was fair. This all runs directly counter to the past two and a half years of brainwashing by Weapon Ex ( who earned her title the way a Shaolin monk earns his 僧侣的长袍, the way an Escoffier chef earns le cordon bleu, the way a tapeworm earns its spots.) There IS a word ‘deserve’ because it’s in the expletive deleted dictionary.Life CAN be fair. People CAN be good. Dreams CAN come true.

Unpopular opinion: AA and NA help an incredible amount of people, but the techniques are in fact brainwashing. And it’s the funniest when someone ‘graduates’ AA/NA in their own mind, and says, “I’m not going back because I love drugs too much, but here are all these self-righteous moral precepts I am convinced I learned there, which you have to live up to all the time or you are weak and deluded…” Yeah. Somebody radio-tag that one, because it is roaming far, far afield and dangerous to itself and others.

More to say, but much to do. Now that I can speak all the way freely, I will accept nothing less. This is really the beginning of a career. I’ve been at it twenty years, but as far as I am concerned this is Day One.

Now The Duct Tape COMES OFF

This blog has been silent for entirely too long. In 2015 I was diagnosed with full-blown Multiple Sclerosis, and it has taken this long to get Disability happening. It has been a long, hellish road, full of potholes and zombies and manticores and all manner of unholiness. Today, I have reached Mt. Zion. Jah Bless. More coming soon.

Returning after June 4

There’s been a lot going on. I’ve had my reasons for silence. In December 2015 I was diagnosed with full-blown M.S., and have been trying to reboot my life ever since. That’s finally starting to happen. I’ve heard Kung Fu masters quote an old Chinese proverb: “Fall down seven times, get up eight.” Pretty much. Anyway, back soon.