Art of the Odd

On April 9, Fantasy Magazine announced a contest to win a copy of John Marks’s new novel, Fangland, by writing a 750 word short story based on a classic text - basically, anything in the public domain.

I had several ideas - and since the rules allowed three entries per contestant, I did have some vague idea that I was going to write three stories - but, as usual, I put things off until the last minute. That’s okay, though, because…

Um…

I won.

When I saw the announcement yesterday, I had to read it several times to understand what it said. “Oh, cool!” I thought. “Candy Witch won! I loved that story. And Open Sesame, that one was fun, too. And Untitled (based on Frankenstein)? I don’t remember that one… Oh, shit. That one’s mine. Wait, I won?” I read it again. My heart started thumping. My hands started to shake. I wanted to scream, but I couldn’t (because I would have frightened the cat - not to mention the carpenter who’s currently stripping 50 years or more of paint off our lovely redwood door jambs), so I squeaked. Very quietly. And wondered if I was going to throw up.

I won.

And I still can’t quite believe it.

Sunday morning, I was up by six thirty (which I keep typing as “sex thirty”), to take a shower, coat myself in sunscreen, and get into full makeup for my 1 PM performance at Anaheed’s Belly Dance Swap Meet in Grenada Hills. Why so early, and why the sunscreen? Because first, I had to go to a 9 AM rehearsal for the Topanga Earth Day show I’m doing with Melanie. I stuffed my Earth Day costume into my dance bag, threw my performance CD into the box with my Swap Meet costume, and was out of the house and on my way by 8:15.

Now, the costume I wore for my Swap Meet performance is one I’ve worn there before. I first saw it in the profile picture of another dancer, on a bellydance-related message board I discovered about the same time I started dancing. I fell in love. “If she ever sells that costume,” I thought to myself, “I’m going to buy it.” About a year later, she did - and I didn’t have the money for it. This made me sad. But then the dancer she sold it to decided it didn’t fit, and she sold it. To me. This made me very, very happy.

Ever since I bought it, though, I’ve been on the lookout for just the right pair of earrings to wear with it. Big gold hoops have done the job, but I was never very excited about them. Yesterday, after I danced, I found the earrings.

They were two dollars. And although the photos make the earrings look very pink, and the costume very purple, the sequins are in fact the very same color.

And this? This makes me very, very happy.

I like browsing the spam comments in my Akismet filter before I delete them - partly because I want to be sure no legit comments have gotten trapped in there (I haven’t had any trouble with that, but I know other people have), and partly because some of them amuse me. There are plenty of the type filled with random characters, hiding links to sites I have no desire to see, but the ones I like are the ones that attempt (usually in mangled English) to form some kind of personal connection.

“This post I like very much. You come my site. Much love. Ebbeca.”

I got a new one today, though. Some SpamBot thinks I’m behind the times.

“I saw similar post three month ago. Topicality of this post sucks. Dude, you have to keep up to date.”

This, from Dotty - or “femaleapants at (free email service not named here, lest Dotty be hijacking a legitimate email address)” - whose web address promises me “onkel-man-best-gay-video.”

As if I’m going to fall for that. Dotty, dude - you have to keep up to date.

As promised, I’ve submitted one of the stories I used for my Clarion application to Weird Tales. I was so wound up about it, I forgot to attach it to the first email (though I did remember to paste the first four paragraphs into the body of that email, per the instructions at Ralan.com’s listing for the magazine), and had to send a second one, with an apology and an attachment. I can only hope Ann VanderMeer’s done something similar in her time…

NovySan got the invite for his high school reunion yesterday. It’s at the Hilton, in a town near the one he grew up.

The invitation included a brief description of the event. There’ll be an open bar - four hours worth of an open bar. This is a good thing. And dancing, yes. We like dancing. And a buffet. That’s alright. Nothing wrong with a buffet. But what’s on the buffet, that’s the question. Well, it appears to be… Heavy hors d’oeuvres.

Heavy. Hors d’oeurves.

Heavy. Hors. D’oeurves.

Nope. Still can’t wrap my head around that.

I’ll plan to take a camera. And maybe a scale.