Himalayan Salt Lamps

Salt lamps. I've always wanted one, but didn't exactly want to pay $30-something dollars for one. Until now, sort of.  Instead, I bought two that operate as candle holders; buy one get one half off was hard to resist. And I love them, and hope I receive some of their curious benefits. 

If you're not familiar with salt lamps, they're lamps (or candle holders in my case) made from natural salt crystals. My understanding is there are fake ones, however the authentic ones come from the Himalayas.  Give or take any location differences I'm not aware of.  Now the benefits of salt lamps come from their ability to emanate negative ions into the atmosphere, something that you would find in nature. Negative ions sort of counteracts positive ions, or ions released from electronically equipment such as computers and televisions. Or man-made items–to be specific. Nonetheless, the negative ions given by the salt lamps are said to cleanse the ionic air. This, in turn, allegedly relieves people from headaches and respiratory problems caused by prolonged interaction with positive ions. Not that I have any of these health issues (haven’t had an asthma attack in years), but I can only imagine some of the possible, unspoken benefits of owning a salt lamp.

I suppose I'll try to keep things posted on their effects. However, I can say that after leaving them burning all night (which I don't suggest), I did wake up feeling pretty refreshed after some good sleep.  Even as I write this, with a good twenty minutes left before I have to get ready to go to work (I'll refrain from calling it a hellhole), I'm not moved to take one of those sluggishly sour naps.  I'm, in essence, okay.  Which is what I want.  Which is also why I like to try different metaphysical items such as salt lamps, smudge sticks, and stones.  I just want to feel good.  To feel okay.

*Off tangent sidenote: I actually dropped my vial of moldavite oil at work a few days ago.  I hadn't used it in a while, and here I was bringing it in to counteract some of the psychic poison in the area and I dropped it.  It smashed and the entire register area smelled like the oil.  I gathered the moldavite fragments to place in a replacement vial as soon as I get one.*

The video below is the infamous Hibiscus Moon sharing her knowledge on salt lamps.  Carry one, people.

Your Standard Meow

"The annual steeplechase races are the high point in the social calendar of the horse-mad Virginians of cozy Crozet.  But when one of the jockeys is found murdered in the main barn, Mary Minor "Harry" Haristeen finds herself in a desperate race of her own–to trap the killer.  Luckily for her, she has an experienced ally; her sage tiger cat, Mrs. Murphy.  Utilizing her feline genius to plumb the depths of human depravity, Mrs. Murphy finds herself on a trail that leads to the shocking truth behind the murder.  But will her human companion catch on in time to beat the killer to the gruesome finish line?"

~ Murder, She Meowed

Ugh! I’m here again, trying to write my thoughts on a Rita Mae Brown Mrs. Murphy book. I don’t say “ugh” in a negative way–especially not concerning the book. I say “ugh” because it gets harder and harder to come up with something to say about the books.  Because, like many on-going series, you're either in on the bewitchery or you're not.  And considering Murder, She Meowed is book five, I'm in. 

They're stories revolving around a cat and a dog helping their human companion (they call her “mother”) solve cozy murder mysteries in small-town Crozet, Virginia. They're not the most astounding, intelligent, and thoroughly mind-bending mystery reads; but still they're simply great. What they are are fun, interesting, comfortable, and charming. Either you're lulled into the animalistic perspective of Murphy and Tucker, or you're not.  Or maybe I like them because I love animals, but will pass at having pets.

Regardless of all that, they have that something. I mentioned before how I love Brown’s “creamy” way with words. And how I love her drive in painting small-town citizens and their various nuances and dynamics with one another. Those components of her storytelling remains strong in Murder, She Meowed.  (Actually, I was kind of baffled that the male model character wasn't around this time.) And yes, some of the mystery elements can sometimes come across as a little contrived. Then there’s the sometimes problematic situation of multiply players and perspectives biting into the mystery, meanwhile the trading of information between characters slips from my reading experience.  In other words, sometimes I'm left trying to recall how such-in-such character gathered information privy to only those present at its delivery.

Nonetheless, at the end of the day, it’s all about the character of Crozet and its cast, both human and animal alike. It’s that hook of the series that makes this happen.  It's that hook that allows me to slip into a robe and just escape to Crozet as the sun goes down over my window. And arriving and finishing book number five only makes me squeal for the comfort, familiar and animal motivations inside book six.

I just adore the damn series!  THERE!  (^_^)

Comfort Readings

My job makes me sick. No, really. It makes me sick. Clock in. Clock out. Misery. Draining. Being pounded by energy that infects my own. Not living, but slowly dying. Like Spike said to Buffy while she worked at the Double Meat Palace, “This place will kill you.” It’s a phrase that comes to mind as I beg God not to let me die in “this place.”

These past two weeks have been filled with bad weather; snow, icy roads, frozen cars on slushy streets with a manager willing to spin his truck through it all to collect his employees to fill shifts. A manager who just wouldn't give up. My Sundays were filled with running a store alone, while the assistant manager clocks out at 9am or comes in for an hour and a half at 11am to do paperwork and leave as a line brews before my register. I often wonder what‘s the point of her even coming. And when she’s gone, I'm picking up the business phone to calling my general manager (who’s at home with his kids) to tell him that I have a line and he has vendors, complaints, equipment failures, and a dirty store that is cheap and irresponsible of him to give to one employee alone with any expectations.

Last Saturday I told him I wasn't coming the next day.  He would have to find somebody else to manage his store alone Sunday.  And I didn't come.  So I came to work Tuesdays with rumors of my suspension floating around, which I'd gladly take considering the job already snatched me from taking a vacation since last June.

So I have to smudge myself to get rid of psychic garbage, as I wonder when this will end. When will this chaos finally dissipate?

However, there's always books!  So in the meantime, I've gathered comfort. Only two this time, though I browsed Barnes & Nobles for a few more that I placed on my TBR. Nonetheless, emphasizing "comfort," I decided on Rita Mae Brown’s Murdered, She Meowed (book #5 in her Mrs. Murphy series) and The Weed that Strings the Hangman’s Bag, book #2 in Alan Bradley’s Flavia de Luce series. One involves pets solving crimes; the other an eleven-year-old English girl doing the same.  I haven't cracked open a book all of March, so I have to defibrillate myself with some faves and familiars.

Nevertheless, the two interesting books that I had passed in favor of comfort are the newly encountered Gods and Shadows by Jayde Brooks and Factory Girls by Leslie T. Chang.  Two in which I can't wait to check out on my next visit.

So here's to not letting people, places or situations steal our joy!   

The OSI Gone Bye-Bye-Bye

I forgot to mention Jes Battis back when I made posts related to urban fantasy authors whose series I've loved but are no longer in operation. So besides the lovely Lynn Benedict, Battis is definitely up there. Battis wrote a five-book series surrounding a young Canadian Occult Special Investigator named Tess Corday. I know. I know. First, you'd like to know exactly what an Occult Special Investigator or OSI is. Well, it’s an investigative unit that specializes in the occult, or occult rattled cases. It’s like an alternative division to the whole CSI mechanic and how it pertains to law enforcement. Therefore, Tess’s job usually has her castigated by unruly vampires, necromancers and other nightly fiends. Well, opposed to murderous humans and the occasional blue-collar criminal. So it‘s all about the world she lives in, and one that Battis painted quite nicely (until it sort of fell apart in the last book).

Despite his set-up, Battis's protagonist is very much human. Although later her father’s genetic truths come to light. This becomes an overarching plot, unfolding next to the case-by-case format spanning the five books. And while all that is tugging and momentum-filled, Tess isn't alone in her journey.  There are secondary characters with their own stories to tell. Her best friend, Derrick, is gay and telepathic.  He also works for the OSI. Additionally, his boyfriend is a hearing-impaired profiler of sorts. Nonetheless, the two (gradually more) share an apartment with a teenage pseudo-vampire named Mia.  Mia bears a striking personality resemblance to Buffy’s sister Dawn, although Mia isn't nowhere near as insufferable.  Tess and her best friend become Mia's guardians after the first book, Night Child. I was always confused about Mia's circumstances, but there’s something about her breaking out into vampire mode and ruling the underworld one day. It’s hazy, but somewhat of the gist of her story. Nonetheless, while these three jump-start the series, there is also Tess’s boyfriend and local chief necromancer, Lucian Agrado.

So the cast is wide and diverse, and generally different. Especially with the tie of the hearing-impaired character. You don't see these characters too often in urban fantasy, or I can't recall a time. Furthermore, while Lucian gave great body and sex appeal, he wasn't like other male characters in this genre where their bod and sex appeal becomes the focal point of the protagonist’s obsession. No. Lucian very much kept Tess in check, and her likewise. Together the cast got into plenty of trouble. Each with a sort of ability and charm that compliments the next, leading to the resolutions behind many of Tess’s cases. 

I truly miss and enjoy the series, even though the last book was just this long, morbid monologue/meditation provided by Tess regarding her values and that of her father. Though sadly, I think the series really started to pick up with the third book (that’s when I solidified my love of Battis work), but didn't get the chance to really shine.

All that aside, you can tell Battis watches a lot of Buffy, my personal favorite TV show.  So if you like Buffy, you may love this charming and humorous treat.  Interesting investigations, a slice of love, friendship-driven, and mysterious family secrets abound.

~3. Back 2 High School - Towel Style ~

All right, guys!  Here we are with the next five panels of my old high school comic featuring my Towel character.  It's slowly, slowly moving out of the slice-of-life shoujo style and into the action, magical girl realm.

Ah, in the last post I couldn't figure out this guy's name.  Akiru, huh?  Anyway, apparently he has always noticed Towel around school.  So when he asks is her best friend, Cornbread, her boyfriend, she freaks out and hits him.  While the attack wasn't necessary, she freaked out for good reason.

How inpatient of her.  Here Akiru is trying to ask her out and Towel's like, "hurry up."  I have to laugh, though.  That's very much like myself.  Get to the point.

Here's the new girl again.  She's giving her teachers' hell per usual.  What's her deal?

Yep.  Curse the teacher out.  Snap the ruler in half.  Then kick the teacher in the face while proclaiming how things are about to "change" in the classroom.  Sounds about right with something I would think of back when I was 17.

Now all of the students are flying out of the classroom under her influence–with the exception of Towel who seems unaffected by her sway.  Even Clip sticks out her tongue and splits for the door.  So is this new girl human?  I more or less took this scene from an incident that happened to me while in the tenth grade.  The lights went out in the entire school, and when the substitute we had for English left to check everything out, the entire class got up and left.  I'll never understand why I got into that, seeing as I didn't have anywhere to go.  However, I have to admit that that week of in-house suspension was great.  I spent that whole week writing a story until I finished it.

See you guys in the next 5!

Anand's Calling...

Anand Giridharadas’s India Calling is sort of my first foray into readings based on Indian culture, and the country in general. It’s an “intimate portrait” written by Giridharadas regarding his experience as an American-born Indian returning to the country his parents immigrated from before his birth (as well as his sister‘s). He exams the many influences as to why his parents left India, between a somewhat stifling culture and a tumbling economy. And then he relays how many of those grounds for fleeing have evolved and changed over the years. For better or worse is often the question. Nevertheless, it’s at a consequence that some Indians find themselves culturally deprived and economically disadvantaged compared to the transfixed success of others.

So what could be the catalysis to this change within the country? Here’s where Giridharadas also assesses the cultural influences outside of, say, the caste system that once held a cord over India‘s public. Women and men of India are beginning to take control of their lives–their circumstances. And it’s complicated to do so, as the people of India give away many of their old cultural standards for something new, adventurous, and maybe even considered sinfully enticing. Giridharadas explores these changes through seven chapters where individuals he‘s spoken with, concerning the conceptualization of India Calling, share their stories. From fundamentalist, entrepreneurs, spiritual, and love-lost citizens, he categorizes his chapters between Dreams, Ambition, Pride, Anger, Love, and Freedom. And it’s here that I’m going to share quotes and pieces of each chapter to give you guys and idea as to how revealing I found India Calling.

DREAMS

"India was changing when I arrived, and it continued to change dramatically, viscerally, improbably.  The freeze I had sensed as a child seemed to be thawing.  It was partly the enormous physical churn: the quantities of earth being moved, the malls and office towers and gated communities being built, the restaurants opening, the factories pumping out cars, the blue jeans being sewn.  It was the new verticality of the big cities, the slum dwellers in Bombay moving into towering apartments financed by New York investors, the mushrooming of village backwaters into congested satellite cities such as Gurgaon and Navi Mumbai and Electronics City.  It was the villagers who have been moved off their land so that Tata Motors, the once-stagnant company where my father worked, whose lifeless culture had pushed him toward America, could built the world's cheapest car, priced at a little more than $2,000."

Resident Evil Revelations 2 Gameplay ~ Claire

Video games have always been a stress reliever for me. Just about every suppressed aggravation comes out (usually through a stream of Southern dripped curse words) during moments of blasting zombies’ heads all over the damn place. Likewise, a simple rumination on my day with a quiet puzzle game is just as an effective reliever. When I think about it, one genre of gaming educe screaming release, whereas another allows me to play scenarios in my head pertaining to life and how I have to deal with some aspects of it.  Furthermore, video games energize and engage me. They toil around with my imagination, feeding my creative ideas for writing, drawing and conceptualizing character scenes. 

For a moment–a microscopic, tiny moment–I'm transported somewhere else in an existence that is dangerous but never my own. It’s a vicarious way of living, with a slew of possible situations to explore. And while games are not always as mentally stimulating as reading (perhaps it‘s worth the debate); they do generate just enough to often times keep me from reading.  (If you catch my drift.)

So I've always wanted to share my gaming hobby, however casual it actually is. It’s a thrilling, wonderful tool to bring people with shared interest together. Okay. I mean if you love gaming and consider it a hobby. Nonetheless, as I start my gaming channel (or restart, really), I'd like to introduce my first videos encompassing Resident Evil Revelations 2. My favorite character in the series, Claire Redfield, is finally back! She finds herself locked up (once again) in a mysterious and creepy prison–one in which I've decided is a killing jar experiment…. Here’s what I think as I commentary my way through Resident Evil Revelations 2 Episode One: Penal Colony…

The Girl Who Dreamt of Earl Moran

She has a name, and it’s Emiko (although I conceptualized her, her surname escapes me at the moment). Japanese? Absolutely. And she dreamt of posing for famed pin-up artist Earl Moran. Or, at least, that’s what inspired all of this; the blueness and semi-sailor look. Oh, also the binoculars that don't exactly look like such (who ever said I could draw inanimate objects anyway?). I have a book on famous pin-up artists, and I use it whenever I want to draw something but am uninspired by anything. So, I take to that book during dry spells. And considering I've promised myself that I would try to draw a new image once a month for 2015, I landed on Earl Moran's chapter. And since today is the last day of February, I’ll let the process images do most of the talking as I try to post this before midnight. Enjoy and comment below. And the image source is HERE!

The usual penciling process.  Sometimes I hate this part because my OCD really kicks in–knowing that if I don't get it right, it's all done for.  While I'll never be 100% accurate or get my proportions right (who needs them in comic and cartooning?), I do use my handy bathroom mirror to reflect the sketch back.  That way, I'll catch some of the obvious little misalignments.

The inking part, of course.

Copic markers for shading and outline.  I've always done this however way.  So not into light sources.

Ah, the stenciling and scrapping part.

I took another piece of bristol board and painted it blue.  A seafaring blue (whatever that is).  The point was to make her backdrop look something like the side of a boat.  I'm going for a theme here.

Dying to use this particular material; I turned her scooped out parts into a shirt.

More color, more pizazz.  I almost didn't get through this, as I was entranced with catching up with How to Get Away with Murder.  Man!  They gave us two episodes this week and they were soooooo good.  I don't think I even ate yet.

I taped the shirt down, seeing that another layer would be added.  Then glued her down to the backdrop.  Neither were as much of a mess as I anticipated.

All done!  Scanned, revived, retouched a bit.  Since I'm not a computer person, I did what I could.  Anyway, Emiko is happy.  Her usual prickly disposition does not show.  I haven't drew her in a long time and have been thinking about her as of recent.  Here's to my girl.

THANKS FOR COMING ABOARD!

Zazzle This USB Flash Drive

Here I stood, just bought a PS4 and frustrated trying to copy recorded game play onto a USB flash drive that just wouldn't connect. It would save me so much trouble to take game play through the PS4’s DVR and into a flash drive; transfer it to my computer and then edit it from there. However, seeing the USB stick I had wouldn't connect, I decided to go onto Zazzle and create one of my own featuring my drawings. Per usual, I picked a random image and came up with this one…

From 8 to about 36 (I bought the 16GB), Zazzle offers an array of GB sizes (prices rise in accordance with size) and colors for their USB flash drive products.  I chose this pastel pink because it went well with the image.  The drive comes in a nice, clear plastic envelope.

Here is the drive semi-swiveled out.  There’s also a hook piece to attach the drive elsewhere.  Say, like to a lanyard.

I chose a fuller image perspective for the other side to keep “variety” in the piece. After pounding on discounts given by Zazzle, I paid $9.95. As for the shipping, I placed the order on the 24th and received it on the 27th (as a Black Member, standard shipping is free). It came unexpectedly. Unexpectedly fast. 

Give me a couple of days to add USB flash drives to the store. In the meantime, you can visit everything else I have to offer HERE.

Once again, thanks for all the support. Stay strong and motivated, people.  And for all my gamer follows, be on the lookout for my gaming channel.  Sub HERE!

Spotlight: Food for Thought

There are debates as to whether Willie Lynch was an actual person, and to be perfectly honest I lean toward myth by his name alone. Nonetheless, since I read the book anyway, I have to say that The Willie Lynch Letter and The Making of a Slave is a 30-page book consisting of a speech given by a white slave owner from the West Indies. 

Delivered on the bank of the James River in 1712, the purpose of his speech was to coach American slave owners on how to restrain, tame and destroy the minds of African slaves.  Chiefly those newly arriving into slavery. His argument was “[If] You are not only losing valuable stock by hangings, you are having uprisings, slaves are running away, your crops are sometimes left in the fields too long for maximum profit, you suffer occasional fires, your animals are killed," then he has the “foolproof method for controlling your Black slaves.” His speech became a sort of outline for slave owners to generate profit and remove economic blocks.  And this consisted primarily of creating divisions among the slaves themselves, with one via their differences in skin-tone.  Furthermore, Lynch suggested the removal and dehumanizing of the black male as the leading family member.  This, in turn, will "create" lasting acceptance and conformity to life as a slave for men as well as women and children generations and beyond.  

The majority of these "ideas" spun another inner ding concerning Lynch's myth, considering his "methods" were a common practice as is. Nevertheless, “FEAR, DISTRUST, and ENVY” are strategies used to control. And all three were proclaimed by Lynch to keep the Black slave under control for over 300 years.

With the addition of horse breeding analogies to illustrate “Cardinal Principles for Making a Negro," the book also contains small pieces of annotations given by Frederick Douglass and Charles Johnson. However, I believe the truly provocative area comes toward the end of the book, through a contemporary essay titled “Dear Black Americans."

Which I’ll share here:

~ 2. Back to High School - Towel-Style ~

Here we are with the next five pages.  Click HERE for the first five.  Or you can follow the labels at the end of the post.

Obviously I made my pages super busy.  Busy, packed and hectic.  Nevertheless, that's how I saw a lot of manga pages; busy and occupied.  I suppose I was just copying, but to an extreme.  I wish I had the skill to tell an efficient (as well as effective) story without too much fuss.  Maybe if I tried to do this these days I could get it right.

Once again a busy page.  I didn't have an manga screens (though later I started to print pictures on tracing paper and go from there), so I had to do all of my backgrounds and effects by hand.  I used what I had.  That's why I always tell people to just start wherever you are and enjoy the process.  

I love Towel and Clip's teacher in the top left corner.  "Break's over!  Let's go!" he says.  And as always, Towel decides to call him a "patty mouth dog."  I don't know what that is.  Should I ever get the time to write her these days, she would never say something like that.  It's not clever enough.  Nonetheless, here her and Clip continue to peep the new girl.

I remember showing this page to a friend of mine and he made a comment about the top panel character's (if you didn't catch it, her name is Miino) expression.  He was pretty direct in his observation that the character looks as if she's about to do something salacious.  I'll leave that to your imagination.  Nonetheless, what I want to point out is how the teachers always seem to be yelling at Towel.  Even this female teacher on the left is yelling at her to take a seat.

Towel's trying to be friends with the new girl, Miino.  Instead, Miino is more interested in strangling Towel.  The scene transitions over into the gym area where Towel and Clip reunite to discuss the new girl, as well as some of the male students playing ball topless.  Said boys have taken a liking to Miino–naturally.  This makes Towel even more curious as to who this new girl is.

I don't think Japanese female students wear bloomers anymore for gym class.  However, this is another obvious testament to my love of the shojo manga genre.

The bloomers again.  Other than that, here is where I introduced another male character (other than Towel's best friend Cornbread).  I'm cringing here as I revisit this particular page.  Why?  Because while I was shaky, I don't like how I drew this guy at all.  I think my drawings of him will get better.  But yesh!

See you guys in the next post...

Asa or Forrest

After the death of his parents, five-year-old Forrest “Little Tree” Carter found himself adopted by his Cherokee grandmother and part-Cherokee grandfather. His grandparents own a home deep in the hollows of a mountain, and that's where Little Tree follows them to learn the ways of the Cherokee.  Said ways are about living off and respecting nature.  

Honoring one's ancestors and finding encouragement through their stories also takes part in Little Tree's lessons.  Little Tree also learns/experiences the often problematic nature of his heritage, and how it relates to the white man’s view of Native Americans and their history/role in the America. A book with little to no conflict, The Education of Little Tree is mostly a romanticized example of what it meant to be Native American during The Great Depression as well as growing up thoroughly connected with Nature.

Sounds like a bubbly and syrupy summary, right? Well, the truth is that I don't know how to take this novel, after reading the history behind the author and the book itself. And it’s really, truly funny because I was about a quarter away from the end (having not researched a thing about the book/author) before I decided I was tired of feeling like there was an undertone of patronization taking place. It turns out, I was on to something. That niggling feeling wasn't there for no reason.

Here’s what I learned about this book, published in the late 70’s:

1. While the book is (or was upon its initial publication) touted as an autobiography/memoir, the author is not Native American.

2. The author was white, and apparently a ku klux klan member

3. The author was somewhat forceful in his segregation views. Which isn't much of a surprise when you take in Little Tree’s encounter with black people in the book?

And that’s just to name a few nuggets of information I've gathered. If I hadn't plucked the book from the non-fiction section at Barnes & Nobles, I may have been more or less baffled. I jumped into it thinking it was a memoir of a young Native American kid learning some hard and heart-filled lessons surrounding his heritage, but instead I got an illusion. A lie. However, halfway through I started to pick up that something wasn't right, and then, as I said, a quarter away from the end was when I felt like the voice was sort of patronizing.  It was an almost condescending and kiddy-glove approach to illustrating Native American culture. Everything seemed too charming. Too surreal. Too vividly told, yet simple at the same time. And most of all, a touch too stereotypical.

So I don't know where I stand with this book. I liked it enough that from a storytelling standpoint, it won me completely. But I honestly just… don't… know….  There's speculation as to the author's intent (his real name is Asa Earl Carter).  However, I don't have it in me to figure it out.  So I might as well move on.

~ 1. Back 2 High School–Towel Style ~

Now this is hilarious. It started out really quite simple: I needed an eyeglass repair kit–but not for eyeglasses. I needed to replace my cell phone’s USB charger port and had all the equipment in one kit, including a useless micro screwdriver. So convinced that I had another one in an eyeglass repair kit, I scoured my room searching. Eventually, I dived into my closet, pulled out a couple of plastic storage crates, and ran across this old comic I drew back in my junior year of high school. It’s where I started to develop and understand this character that’s been in my head all my life. Her name is Towel. (Nicknamed if you will.) She’s young. Highly misunderstood. Stubborn. A romantic. Senseless and often times forgetful. However, most of all, she’s a hero. She’s lived and manifested in many different forms and appearances. Many different races. Many different occupations. Nonetheless, she’s always been influenced by my love of Sailor Moon, Buffy and a variety of other forms and medias that represent women in power.

So it took me a while, but I finally whipped out my scanner, thinking it would be cool to share some of these scans just for the hell of it. It’s rough. It’s hard.  It's random and confusing.  It’s impulsively drawn. But it’s here. So be tickled.  And sorry that some areas are cut off. My scanner isn't that large.

And no. I never found that eyeglass repair kit. Therefore, I was left making a run to the Dollar Store for one.  However, eventually I got my phone repaired.

I’ll release these in a series of 5 per posts...

What other way to introduce Towel other than to make her late for school?  Why was she late?  Because she was busy admiring a dress.  Heavily–and I mean heavily–influenced by Naoko Takeuchi and Miwa Ueda's work, I placed her in a sailor-style uniform just like Japanese students.  Which only exacts her locale.  

While I was rarely late for school/class, I will say that I was not liked by a couple of teachers for other reasons.  Like Towel, I kind of didn't have a filter on my mouth.  I remember one English teacher calling me out because I proclaimed "this sucks" during one dull, boring class period.  It really was boring listening to her read out of some book.  However, school was like that for me; I was always bored.  And though I've always tried, I find it hard to hold back how I feel.  Especially when it comes to the urge to create.

While she may be located in Japan, Towel definitely had my Southern wit.  I also want to mention how, as it regards manga/anime, characters who have blond hair and blue eyes are not necessarily considered white.  In fact, you'll know when a white/foreign character is present in either form, because of the difference in his/her appearance and behavior.  However, the obvious is a silly caricature of say an American or Russian.  

I never really saw Towel as white, mixed maybe.  Eventually she became a black character who dyed her hair blond.  Why blond?  Because Minako/Sailor Venus is yellow-headed of course.  Plus, the color is so light that it's easiest to product and hide mistakes over.

I've always loved these little character introductions in manga.  A quick, running page of information regarding the star and her buddies.  Clip (later changed to Klip) and Cornbread (we'll talk about him later) were always the characters I had in mind as Towel's best friends.  Both have changed tremendously over the years.  Something I'll realize more and more of as I re-read these early introductions.  

Nonetheless, back to Towel.  I wanted Towel to be sporty, unlike myself.  So I made her a basketball player (like my sister at the time) and a gymnasts (so she could do flips like the original Pink Ranger).  She loves to write, which is something that did come from myself.  Ultimately, I shot for well-rounded.

And here enters a character inspired by Naoko Takeuchi's Rei Hino (my second favorite senshi), or other known as Sailor Mars.  She becomes Towel's school rival and later something else entirely.

Perhaps now's the time to ask that you stay tuned for the next half...

#ReadSoulLit ~ Sisters in Crime

#ReadSoulLit is a Black History Month project organized by booktuber, Frenchiedee.  When Frenchie reached out and asked did I want to contribute to the project, I didn't hesitate.  I most certainly did.  And when she asked what I would do my video on, with so much ease I said black women writing black women in crime fiction.  And what a project this turned out to be.  I stressed for about three weeks, then one day got tired and decided to just jump up and do me.  Now, I have to share the videos here with you all.  I've drained myself a little putting this one together.  So I hope you all enjoy...

#ReadSoulLit ~ Sisters in Crime 1: Where I'm Coming From...

#ReadSoulLit ~ Sisters in Crime 2: Their Stories...

When Bored With a Book...

...Buy more.  That's right.  I'm bored to tears with Chang-Rae Lee's On Such a Full Sea.  If Obsession in Death hadn't released to interrupt the process, I may have walked this week finishing absolutely nothing.  Nonetheless, I've bought plenty and think it's time I put Lee aside for the time being.  No, seriously.  On Such a Full Sea is boring.  Though it's an interesting look at the dystopian theme, it's kind of hard to really connect with as it's told through the first-person plural.  However, it's led by the character of a sixteen-year-old girl who you never really have access to her consciousness throughout its telling.  So I'm on the fence.  Part of me wants to power my way through.  Part of me wants to just give the whole thing up.  Part of me is upset because I loved and was captivated by The Surrendered and hoped this book would be the same.  Nonetheless, I went to the bookstore Friday.  Grabbed the laptop and hung out for awhile before my cousin and I went to our favorite Asian restaurant in the area.  I browsed exclusively in the non-fiction area and walked out with these...

India Calling by Anand Giridharadas substituted for my actual desire for Maximum City by Suketa Metha.  I decided to go into India gently, I suppose.  Hitler's Furies just caught my eye and interest.  Women killers during the Holocausts.  Ouch.

Obsession in Death

So let me set this book up for you, before I get into what I loved about it. Eve Dallas is somewhat of a celebrity cop in New York.  Her and her cases are often featured on the local news as one of New York‘s top homicide lieutenants. Books and movies have featured her cases–and in turn her likeness. And her celebrity comes increasingly valid with a billionaire husband at her side. So without a doubt, Eve is as profile as they come.  The problem is while many hate her (which is an understatement), some admire her. And some admiration comes with a deadly (another understatement) and twisted psychology. 

In Obsession in Death Eve has become the object of someone’s personal fixation. A fixation so apparent and disturbing that this person believes they must kill for Eve, to show and express the value of their “relationship.” The killings are about justice. Respect. They are offerings to Eve, and it becomes all the more evident as each murder relates back to suspects and victims from Eve’s old cases.  Obviously, Eve doesn’t appreciate these offerings. And it’s only a matter a time before their killer turns completely on Eve.  Hence... Obsession in Death.

It’s here. It’s done. Finally, all caught up on J. D. Robb’s In Death series. I thank those who've followed along on this semi-obsessive compulsive journey, as I read my way through four books until arriving at Obsession in Death‘s release on February 10th (where I snatched it a Kroger‘s after filing my income taxes; I had to get Kosher hot dogs anyway). I would go on about my grateful pleasure to those who've kept up with me, but I think I've said enough over the past two months.  Therefore, I'm going to make this quick. 

Obsession in Death is not only the 40th book, but it also marks the twentieth anniversary since the In Death series began with Naked in Death‘s publication on July 1st, 1995. (I'm always amazed, seeing that I was only twelve-years-old on that day.) That’s twenty years and still going; not too many series covering any genre have that longevity. Furthermore, the cool thing in all this realization regards how Obsession seems to recognize the series' hero and its own history. It’s the book that looks closely at the character and evolution of Eve Dallas herself. It’s the book that takes nods to previous cases, previous victims and suspects as well as old, crooked wounds within some of the cast.  It looks back at Eve's relationship with others, and even takes us back to Eve's apartment where she resided at the beginning of it all. I found it somewhat of a tribute to the series–a celebration of sorts. And it was a thrill that easily out beat its predecessor, Festive in Death.  I found myself very much standing at two in the morning to read the book.  I didn't want to get comfortable, I didn't want to sleep.  From start to finish it was a ride–both the syrupy sentimental and a plot that races the clock kind.

Happy Valentine's Day!

Girl, What? Welcome, Ms. Hayes

I'm a little beside myself because I researched Charlotte Carter’s Nanette Hayes three-book series a number of times only to jump into it with the second book, Coq au Vin. I ordered it thinking it’s the first, which is actually Rhodes Island Red. And you know how anal retentive I am, finding it necessary to read series in order. Not exactly sure what happened, but I’m here and will go back to give this series a proper start. In the future.  So despite my misstep, I did enjoy Coq au Vin and my introduction into Carter’s New York native, jazz playing, smack-talking amateur sleuth, Nanette Hayes.

So until I can go back and speak about this series from the start, I'd better go ahead and begin where I am.

Nanette’s Aunt Vivian has always been a men-loving, money-hungry firecracker. And now she’s an international one, having left America for Paris years ago to indulge in her impulses. She has since gone rogue from a family that didn't too much care for her ways to begin with. Nonetheless, she’s always had a special relationship with her niece, Nanette “Nan” Hayes. So when Aunt Vivian sends a postcard and a telegram to Nanette’s mother relying danger, the family can't help but worry. Yet… they also sigh with exhaustion. While Nanette’s father wants nothing else to do with his sister, it’s Nanette’s mother who gives her daughter the task of seeking out her aunt in Paris. And it would've been easy to reject if Nanette didn't have the added responsibility of handing Vivian her inheritance. Unfortunately, by the time Nanette lands in France, Aunt Vivian has long been missing.

Coq au Vin takes you places. Places where you may forget what’s happening in the book as it relates to the mystery and/or purpose of Nanette in Paris. There are even moments when Nanette took note of how un-progressive she’s been in regard to finding her aunt, usually because she‘s busy sexing up her Paris boyfriend or looking for a place to eat. So in that situation, it never felt like a story with much at stake or any urgency as Nanette fluttered about Paris semi-sorta taking stock of little clues related to her aunt‘s disappearance. Simply put, Carter sprinkled the setup in the beginning, and it wasn't until near the end where it felt as if she crammed in her focus.

So instead, between those two points, more than once I felt like I verged off into a Parisian instant-love story, a black-conscience dialogue (which was the best), or a music history lecture. The book comes loaded with the history of blues and jazz music, from America to Paris. Topped with descriptions of Paris's locales as well, which wouldn't be so bad if you're familiar with the city and didn't require a little research. It goes into the world of the Paris jazz scene also. From the streets to the night clubs. However, you may find yourself wondering, repeatedly, why am I here and what’s the progress of the mystery, or the catalysis to all of these events. And personally, I'm always startled in a mystery book when a protagonist gathers a lead, but decides to go to a nightclub to dance instead of chasing it down. Focus, people. Focus.

The surprises along the way are limited. Some that I conceived would've probably really set the book off. Nonetheless, at last, it all sort of came together, except for a few characters who went off and were never heard from again. While I was over Nanette’s outbursts and arguments, I can say that she made a fantastic protagonist. Especially because she’s black, a woman, and is aware of both these things and how she relates–and is seen–by the world. Even in a place miles away from her New York roots.

I'll leave a few of my favorite moments from Nanette down below…

"Like every musician, probably, I had often wondered what it was like to play high on drugs.  All the cornball stuff crosses your mind:  does the heroin unlock some door in your soul?  Does it makes you better?  I don't just mean, does it make you play better.  I mean, are you better, however briefly

For all my musical forefathers, it had to do more than just make the pain go away.  God.  Negroes and their pain.  What the fuck were we going to do if suddenly it all did go away?  Would be even know who we were anymore?"

"I wanted to say something more than that, but I couldn't quite form the words yet.  The permutations of our relationship to the whole of America were endless.  You could hate white people but not hate America.  You could come to terms with the racism but never accept the insipid culture.  You could view our disenfranchisement as a kind of massive swindle–all that blood, sorrow, loyalty, hope, and patience deposited over the centuries, and the check keeps bouncing.  You could simply self-destruct.  Like I said, endless.  I figured I'd hear the particulars of his take on the thing soon enough."

"'My blackness is not open to challenge.  My father was black, so that means I'm black.  Period.  I guess what I mean is, my people deserve to be honored by me, and I'm serious about doing that–but I deserve some honor too, right?  Who doesn't?'"

February Housekeeping

It’s Saturday. It’s relatively warm. The sun is out. And I only had to work a quick four–though mildly nerve-wracking–hours on the job. A new episode of Ghost Adventures comes on tonight. I have no plans and don’t care to make any. So what did I do? I went to the bookstore. I had a few ideas in mind, but I mostly went in there blind and ready to browse at my leisure. No pressure, except that emptiness in my stomach alerting me that I didn't have lunch. Just shelf after shelf of… well… looking. As always, I first stopped in the non-fiction section, particularly the area concerning Asian and African (hyphen the two as you will) studies as well as Native American history. And I saw plenty there, but waited and browsed around some more with a couple of those books in mind. 

I wanted to avoid the Mystery and Sci-Fi/Fantasy section. Mystery because I have plenty of them, as they're a well that never runs dry here. Sci-Fi/Fantasy because I can never seem to find what I really want to read about in the genre. I was not–and I mean not–in the mood for female characters sexing it up with werewolves and vampires. Forget that!

I decided to hit the general fiction area blind, but not-so blind as I had my Amazon Wishlist app open like a Geiger counter. My experience with Chang-Rae Lee’s The Surrendered was a clear voice in my head–no doubt. It’s a voice that I tried and tried to fight by picking up another by Ruth Ozeki (after reading A Tale for the Time Being a few years ago, I wanted to go back to another of hers) and fell into shock when I found Junichiro Tanizaki‘s The Makioka Sisters there and available right at my fingertips. For a while, I walked around with Toni Morrison’s Home. Richard Wright’s Rite of Passage hung in there also.  

Like Rebbie Jackson, I was "Ready For Love."  I walked around with a set of three books. Put two back. Walked with one. I reverted back around and picked up one that I let down. I stood in the aisles contemplating prices and mood. And after some unknown amount of time I ended up with these…

Evidently, I couldn't resist that voice for another Chang-Rae Lee novel.  The Education of Little Tree, by Forrest Carter, went to war between The Ways of My Grandmothers by Beverly Hungry Wolf and Maximum City: Bombay Lost and Found by Suketu Mehta.  Hirohito and the Making of Modern Japan by Herbert P. Bix is still stuck on my list.  Nevada Barr’s Track of the Cat just kind of happened.  I wandered into the mystery section (who the hell was I kidding?) and recognized its familiar cover from my Amazon Wishlist.  It’s the first in her Anna Pigeon park ranger series.  I figured I wouldn't find it anywhere else in such a condition.

So there we are.  I look forward to sharing my experience with these books in the future.  Can you guess which I'll crack open tonight?  Hmmm...