Love, The Zombies.

Happy New Year.

(via Wolf and Fox)

614 south 3rd 2r: A Rental Horror Film

Hello there! It's been awhile since I went into hibernation, I know. But it's been a busy sort of hibernation: I've been on the job hunt. For the right job I'll move anywhere, but Philadelphia is at the top of my list. I grew up there, it's close to New York, it's got a ton of universities and colleges, I have friends there... there are a lot of pluses. So I went on Craigslist last night to check out apartments. The below is billed as a "virtual tour" -- but I'm not fooled, and you won't be either:

614 south 3rd 2r: A RENTAL HORROR FILM

0:00 Right off the bat we’re on the express train to Creeptown: cheap hardware store letters – one dented -- slapped unevenly on an unfinished wood door that looks so flimsy you could split it with a cardboard box top. (Check out the hole on the lower left, which looks like it was made by something only slightly sturdier than a pencil tip.)

0:02 Two seconds in and we’re in CHILDREN OF THE CORN territory. Creaky door, wobbly camerawork (clearly amateur -- possibly psychotic!), apparently abandoned messes everywhere. Is that the top of a toilet tank on the sofa?* Also there appears to be an unused fireplace that is full of crap. Wow, do I want to live here.

0:13 More abandoned stuff, including what appears to be the end of breakfast. What happened in this place? Was there some kind of raid and everyone split out the bathroom window? Plus this camera work is making me nauseated. Let’s not mention breakfast again.

0:19 Look quickly or you’ll miss the foreboding shadow of Camera Man. The plot thickens!

0:22 Apparently the ceiling is an extremely important feature of this apartment. I couldn’t agree more, by the way; I for one would never consider moving into an apartment without a ceiling, and I recommend you don’t either. I used to work for a real estate company, so you can take this advice to the bank.

0:26 OMG! The door is squeaking again! Youguysyouguysyouguys, from the way Camera Guy is swinging his camera around I don’t think HE expects anyone either! I think we can best describe this POV as “terrified giraffe.”

0:35 A quick pit stop as we move quickly down the hall in search of a hiding place to point out the washer and dryer. Excellent! Washing all those bloody clothes will be a snap.

0:51 Look, this bedroom ceiling has a light in it! That is awesome. Also, I’m now blind.

1:06 Okay, we all just gave silent thanks that the toilet was empty, right?

1:09 More with the ceiling. Listen, we get it. The apartment has ceilings in every single room. Congrats! But you’re still kind of freaking me out, Camera Man.

1:13 That blue box is a case of baby wipes. There is a baby here. Could it be a killer baby who loves breakfast and ceilings? I can’t tell yet. But I’m worried. Very, very worried. Things are getting creepier by the second.

1:16 AAAAAAGGGGHHHH!!!!! IT’S HIM!!! IT’S HIM!!!!!! He totally slipped up and showed himself on camera, and now he has to kill you!!! You know that this is true because of the lovingly shot homage to the shower scene in PSYCHO that follows. I am telling you, prospective tenant: RUN. RUN NOW.

1:24 Whoa, was that a back flip, Camera Man? Oh, prospective tenant, getting away is going to be harder than I thought. In fact, let's face it: you’re dead.

1:28 Especially because the bathroom window leads straight into a concrete wall. Yep, sorry. You’re toast.

1:35 and 1:36 Hear those things that sound like a pile of throwing stars and a baseball bat? What? I’m just asking.

1:38 Okay, hold everything. We are now in the full glory of this video, and I think this screen shot says it all. Please note that I have not digitally altered this in any way, first, because I do not have the software to do so and second, because even if I did I wouldn’t know how to do it. Ladies and gentlemen, I present the Floating Muppet Heads of Death:

We LOVE it at 614 south 3rd 2r… come join us... join us... join us...

1:40 - 2:04 In a redemptive, practically touching, totally Hollywood moment, the last few moments of this "virtual tour" show the POV of someone walking down a white (well, beige, really, but who quibbles at a time like this?) hall, toward a bright light. Good night, prospective tenant, wherever you are. If I wind up moving to Philadelphia I'm sorry we won't have a chance to meet; you seemed like a nice person.

______

*Apparently not. But in this place, who can tell?

Honestly, Do I Have to Get a Restraining Order?

Hey, BigAnonymous:

STOP SENDING ME STUFF.  You laid me off on September 22, nearly eight weeks ago.  Get over me.

Seriously, you're like that boyfriend who dumps you but then keeps calling "just to say hi."  For God's sake, do us both a favor and move on.  I have a novel to write.

NaNo, Day 6: An Ergonomic Plea

Chair, I’d jump around for joy
If only you were ergie
You know if I were Josh Duhamel
I’d do you like you were Fergie*

Desk, I’m with you all day long
Trying to be word-y
And that’s all good -- so is it bad
To wish that you were ergie?

My jaw is clenched, my back’s in spasms
My neck wants to flee to Jersey
Cause the tools I have are nice and all
But let’s face it -- they’re not ergie.

So if there’s Someone Big upstairs
I know that you’ll have heard me
And answered all my fevered prayers

When you send me something ergie.

____

*or, you know, whoever.

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My work! My luck! My work! My luck! (apologies to CHINATOWN...)

Meeting yesterday's NaNo word count goal was like pulling teeth. 1,667 teeth.  But, done!  (1704 teeth, in fact.)  So today's tidbit is in the "the harder I work, the luckier I get" vein.  Here's looking forward to the luck.

My experience is you always get lucky if you’re willful enough about it. I discovered when I was in my twenties, and I started trying to make work, that if I would spend even more hours on it, luck would kick in on some story. And then you have to be ready to throw stuff out, too. You’re making room for the better stuff that’s going to come.

    -- Ira Glass, producer/creator/host, This American Life

Read the full interview here.

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NaNovember, NaNoCashland

Yesterday was the first day of a global writing fiesta/orgy/spasm called National Novel Writing Month  (NaNoWriMo for short, NaNo for short short). NaNo works like this: you register on their website – over 100,000 people have registered around the world this year -- and commit to writing a 50,000 word novel between November 1 and November 30. 50,000 words comes out to roughly 200 pages, or between 6 and 7 pages per day, which in turn translates to an average of 1667 words per day. Simple, right?

Simple. Not easy.

One of the great joys of No Cashland is that I had ZERO excuse not to participate this year, and so I’m in for the first time. I will continue to post here throughout the month, but as I’m doing most of my heavy-lifting writing over at NaNo, you might wind up seeing a lot of links. And videos. Jokes, maybe. Who knows?  In the meantime, to give you a taste of who I’ll be cheating on you with all month, here’s the first paragraph of the NaNo novel. (This is the only excerpt I’ll post, though I may post a summary or two if they seem worth reading. Or because it might be fun to write them.)

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Chapter One: To the Mountain

The carriage rocked and swayed as it lurched up the mountain. The horses strained at their harnesses; the breeze carried intermittent flecks of sweaty foam from their backs into the compartment where Edith sat next to her seven-year-old brother Peter. It was a clear, sunny afternoon, but their parents knocked on the inside roof of the compartment and asked the driver — Timothy was their gardener for the nine months of the year they were in the city and their driver/groundskeeper/in-house naturalist when they journeyed to Cragsmoor — to close the curtains against the flecks. As the carriage trudged upward its shiny black body and thick black woolen curtains made it look more like a hearse than a family vehicle.
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That’s right, it looked like a hearse. Foreshadowing! People might die! (Okay, people die.) A century later other people will try to find out how and why and it will put them in danger! Some other stuff will happen in between those events! At this point I have a pretty good idea of what’s going to happen, but when I started writing chapter one I had a very clear plan. That plan exploded on word two, which I had intended to be “car.” Being in a carriage instead of a car sent me back half a century in one fell swoop, to a time period I hadn't envisioned being in this book at all. I fought it for about 20 minutes and then gave in.  Which I expect will happen a lot between now and November 30.  Basically, I expect to spend November being smacked around by my own brain.

At least, I hope so.

Miss Fish vs.... the Calendar

It’s Friday, and though I’m not Catholic, it seems as good a day as any to take a quick peek to see how Miss Fish is getting on. (Getting it on, of course, being some people’s assessment of how Miss Fish was hired at BigAnonymous in the first place.)

Several months ago, Miss Fish and her boyfriend* were preparing to go on a trip – in this case, on safari in Africa. “How long are you going for?” I asked as she gathered up her suitcase and purse. To her credit, Miss Fish came into work the day she left, leaving the office at 4pm and heading straight for JFK.

“Uh….” She said. “Well, we come back on Sunday.” It was Thursday afternoon. “I mean, not this Sunday, next Sunday. So it’s this weekend and then next week until Sunday. It’s however many days that is.”

Check plus, Miss Fish. At least we knew you had someone with you out there.
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*Fun fact: Miss Fish’s boyfriend’s last name is Husband. Literally. Me, I’m convinced that this is nature's little way of making sure that if they get married, she’ll always be clear on exactly who that guy in her house is.

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And now, a vintage Beatles cartoon video even more inexplicable than Miss Fish's losing battle with the days of the week: