Dream: Literarily Weird

I'm almost embarrassed to post this just due to the level of weird, but I have written before about the majestic awkwardness of my dreams and it's not quite flying around on a waffle. I also kept waking up overnight, so I kind of had dream vignettes that lead up to some fuckery that will probably surprise you or not.


1.

"Are you wearing a skirt?" My mom gives me a weird look as she lounges on a large sofa in an art gallery. The towering walls are crowded with framed artwork. (It's basically like the gallery rooms from Penny Dreadful where Dorian Gray hangs out.)

I look down and pull at the light blue fabric and immediately recognize what I'm wearing, so I correct her, "It's Sailor Mercury cosplay."

Mind you, it's not good Sailor Mercury cosplay, but something I tried to sew when I was eleven or twelve. A white tank top with pleated blue fabric sewn onto the bottom. Complete the look for yourself with shorts, spiky dark brown hair, and dark-rimmed glasses. Very hipster dude ironically cosplaying as Sailor Mercury. Good choice, subconscious.

I'm being haunted by unfinished sewing projects past.


2.

I wander into a bathroom. It's pretty dark, lit only by amber-tinged light from stained light bulbs. The glass on a couple of the bulbs is broken, but the filaments are still glowing. The toilet has electronics thrown into it. Wii and Xbox controllers. More junk is thrown into the filthy bathtub.

The mirror is smudged and dirty. I can't see my reflection that well and I'm not quite sure why I'm in there so I leave.


3.

In another room a doorbell rings, so I walk the halls to find it. This building is darkly Victorian in style, lots of curiosities everywhere, except it's exposed to unreasonably bright light. It's kind of like looking at a theater scene when all the stage and house lights are up, and there aren't any curtains to cast shadows. Not sure if I'm even in the same building as before or if I'm jumping between locations each time I fall back asleep. Whatever, I'm still in my total crap cosplay.

I open the double doors to the outside and find a very tan, shirtless muscle guy and a pale trans woman in a shiny spandex club wear kind of dress. Neither of them talk to me, but they just walk into the house like it's totally obvious that they would be there. I follow them and don't try to question anything that's going on.

There's another art gallery sort of room, but this is a different one. The artwork is larger and not as cluttered. An elaborate bed is set up against the wall at the back of the room. Clothes start coming off. Oh, okay, this is one of those dreams.

I watch for a while, and decide to join them because this is my dream and they brought me along. I kiss the woman. They're both trying to get me out of my fetching Sailor Mercury costume, but I hold onto it because I think I'm going to need it later. And I keep hearing this odd noise outside the room.


4.

The next time I'm aware of it, the room has shifted into something more modern and smaller. The bed is still against the wall. Eventually I decide to go check out the weird noise. It's the sound of shuffling and more solid footsteps. Maybe I'm paranoid because my dreams don't just gift wrap attractive naked people for me. That's not how this goes. Ever.

After finding nothing worthy of notice in the bright hallway, I head back into the room and close the double doors. The naked people have been going on without me. I sit on the edge of the bed and get used to the idea that this could possibly be a sexy dream and not a weird one.

I put my hand on the muscle guy's thigh. The doors to the room burst open and there's a scraggly-looking man with a mustache standing there. He's in a worn brown suit that might have been a nicer suit at some point in time. He has a revolver. I jump up and dive for him. It's all very slow motion. He fires off four shots in an arc over the naked muscle guy's head.

Yes, Edgar Allan Poe just showed up to the sexy dream and started shooting at us. All of us glare at him. End scene.


 --I have loosely interpreted this dream as trying to tell me that I need to stop fucking around and get back to writing.

Gender, Roadside Signs And Randomness

Well, I've missed a few posts due to having to go back to Ohio on short notice last week. I've been sick this week--flu-like fun. And I'll be heading back to Ohio to attend my great uncle's funeral at the beginning of next week.
Other than that, I do have some random things to share with you today...

There's been some debate about gender and book covers happening in many places this week...It was all kicked off by Maureen Johnson on Twitter, and has resulted in Coverflip: Maureen Johnson Calls for an end to Gendered Book Covers with an Amazing Challenge (Images), and this The Most Incongruous Book Covers of All Time--those are especially odd to look at.

And today I watched this video about Gender in Advertising-- I love the reversed gender roles portion at the end, especially the Marlboro woman...


And to round out our gender extravaganza I'm including Paul Richmond's Cheesecake Boys and I'll throw in The Hawkeye Initiative for good measure.

Unrelated to gender, but related to book covers--
Good Show Sir--the worst in Science Fiction/Fantasy book covers

Here are a couple roadsigns I've been meaning to share. These are actually to the south of where I live. I really didn't notice the elephant when I took this picture because everything was grey and it just blended into the surroundings. Yeah, really. I'm not sure if We Got Stuff is still in use....

...but this hotel is not. You could buy it though, but I'm pretty sure it wouldn't be a great business venture because there's not much of anything out that way. I really like that the sign advertises the presence of color TV's and phones in the rooms. Then there's the bright yellow roof which is probably the only reason I noticed it.

There's also a place with some signs advertising a hotel further up the road, but the hotel sign and an empty lot are all that remain once you arrive.


And this last picture is in honor of my birthday weekend. I'm turning 30 on May 12th and don't have anything much planned to celebrate it. I thought this picture was pretty absurd...

What I want for my birthday is for whatever viral illness I have to go away, and to find the presser foot screw for my sewing machine.The presser foot screw has earned the distinction of being the most annoying item that I've ever lost...And I've actually been to JoAnn Fabrics since it went missing, but it's so insignificant that I can't remember that I need to buy another....ugh

Queer Fish 2 (goodreads giveaway), and Nightfall with Edgar Allan Poe.

Another quick update:

Queer Fish 2 is out now. That anthology includes my story "Lost at Sea."

And the publisher is hosting a giveaway.
Enter to win a copy on goodreads!


It's opening night for Nightfall with Edgar Allan Poe at Stuart's Opera House in Nelsonville, OH.

Here's an article, and some pictures

Tickets can be purchased here!


Also, NaNoWriMo started today. You can find my NaNo profile here.

I declare myself a bit crazy

So...I'm moving to Pennsylvania in early November, but that doesn't explain why I've been scarce in blog world. Let me explain in list form:

Well, I am packing up my current house, trying to sell it, and closing on the new house, and then physically moving. So there is that.

I'm helping with costumes and other projects as needed for the play Nightfall with Edgar Allan Poe. On stage November 1st through 4th at Stuart's Opera House in Nelsonville, OH.

I've been interning with Musa: Erato. Follow them on Twitter, it's like following me part of the time. Also there's the Erato blog, and the main Musa blog. We're launching the Pan GLBT YA imprint on the 19th.

My story "Lost At Sea" will be in Queer Fish (Vol. 2) anthology from Pink Narcissus Press due out October 28th.

I'm helping organize a reading at Amethyst & Ivy as part of their Strange Days promotion (You can also shop online if you can't make it to the store).

I'm working on an article for the Columbus Creative Co-Op's Selfless project.

And Columbus Creative Co-Op has their 13 anthology submissions open until November 2nd. Not sure if I'll finish something to send to that, but I'll try.

Hop Against Homophobia: Giveaway, Iran, The Suicide Grove

Hi. Thanks for stopping by. I'm J. Lannan and it may not be the best time to host my first giveaway and be involved in a blog hop when my first m/m romance-type story won't be out until later this year-- I also have a job interview this morning, and will be out of town for a memorial service for a couple days-- but this is the time I have so I might as well use it.

May 17th is the International Day Against Homophobia and Transphobia and this blog is participating in the Hop Against Homophobia.Click on the picture in order to visit the other blogs involved.





Each blog is doing a giveaway of some sort and here is mine. Since I don't have any extra copies of magazines with my poetry and essays in them I am giving away some random LGBT swag. (Note: I'll probably find something else to add before the hop is over and will add that to the list, or just include it as a surprise)

One Pack of Meiji Hello Panda cookies--they're cute, strawberry-flavored and could be considered snacks that pair well with reading-related activities...
One Rainbow Wristband--I notice a 50% increase in flirting when I wear my rainbow wristband so it must be imbued with magical powers of some kind. (Blog owner not responsible if your wrist band does not have magical powers)
Two Badges--One has a hot dog in a raincoat with "always protect your weenie" printed on it, and the other says "Deal With It" in rainbow lettering

That list almost made me sound orderly...almost. So, in order to be entered to win my giveaway leave a comment on this post and include your e-mail address, or twitter info so I can contact you. When I get back in town on the 21st I'll randomly pick someone and send you a message to get your info.

Here are my two comments on homophobia since the blog hop tackles that issue. The first section discusses Iran's death penalty for homosexuality, and the second is a look at bullying and suicide through imagery I pulled from Dante Alighieri's Inferno. Intermission is exactly as it sounds.

Iran Executes Gay Men 

I've been told that I have a gift for shining a different kind of light upon dark subjects, but as I write this I realize that I have trouble bringing my kind of light to a situation that is so horrific and extends far beyond the harassment, name-calling and rock-throwing that I've personally been on the receiving end of.

In college I majored in History and studied Iran's judicial system. It's a sad and corrupt system that often forces confessions via torture. I've always found myself drawn to the study of injustice because I have grand schemes about making the world a better place for everyone. I know that's a Miss America World Peace kind of statement, but it's true. One of the only things I kept around from being raised Catholic was the concept of do unto others as your would have done unto yourself, but even that is a pretty common sense concept.

Several years ago Mahmoud Ahmadinejad claimed that there were no gays in Iran. His American audience laughed. While his delusional nature may be amusing sometimes, the treatment of gays in Iran is no laughing matter. It may surprise you, or may not if you know the region, that consensual sex between men is punishable by death in Iran (and in other parts of the world). During my research I even watched an interrogation video in which a man had kidnapped another man to keep as a sex slave. One was obviously a victim (his teeth were bashed out), but when punishment was handed out both men were executed.
The Iranian judiciary just determined that four men will be executed for consensual sexual activities. The Jerusalem Post has that article.
In 2005 two gay teenagers were executed for the same crime.

These events are happening in this day and age, and I feel stranded on an island of inability because I can't do anything substantial about it other than pass the information along wherever I am able. So this is the information I give to you.

Intermission

Being a Historian left me with this empty feeling of inability. I've heard stories about Historians being epic alcoholics for this very reason--well, that, and no one listens to Historians and History repeats itself if left forgotten...it's a frustrating field. So, where does an angsty, detail-obsessed person who harbors a compelling case of nascent alcoholism turn? Yes, become a writer. It was so obvious.

I still write essays, but now I write other things as well because I want to explore topics instead of theories. Writing gives me a platform, and if you're going to stand on a platform you better have something that you want to say.

The Grove

As I've mentioned before, I was raised Catholic and you can probably guess where I'm going with this...or not. Where earning a History degree left me frustrated with my lack of ability to change History the conformity of Catholicism I attempted to force upon myself left me with a lack of identity. It took me a long time to figure myself out after being told that everything I did could send me to the hell fire. Catholics are a little more subtle than other denominations, but the hell fire is still there. And it can give you quite a sense of hopelessness to live in a constant state of internal and external scrutiny that is simply incompatible with what you feel is true about yourself and the world. I now bring you to the universal topic of bullying and suicide that plagues so many kids in the LGBT community as well as those kids who are just different. I was twelve when I first attempted suicide. I don't really want to discuss the why, or how, or what right now because they're not part of this story, but this next section is the story.

Due to my long-term intimate relationship with suicidal thoughts, the Catholic belief system, and my Italian heritage I took a morbid solace in Dante Alighieri's Inferno. In the middle ring of the 7th Circle of Hell the people who committed suicide exist as gnarled and bleeding thorn bushes that are terrorized by harpies. The suicidal will never regain their bodies after The Final Judgment, but will have their corpses hung from their thorn bushes. (I told you it was morbid) This is the imagery I always return to when thinking about suicide, but I think of it differently because my relationship with nature is stronger than my relationship with the concept of hell.

I invite you to walk with me through the grove of the suicides. At first I feel peace because there is the notion of a quiet comfort in death. The struggle is over, it's true, but that's it...death is the end. We can just keep walking, though. We're not staying. The trees are all thorns and scabs. It's a sign of obvious pain, and the trees now bleed when injured, but in life the pain is not as obvious as a twisted mass of bleeding thorn branches. The scabs reopen old wounds, and the thorns harm those who get too close. It is a desperate situation. Depression puts up barriers or causes people to lash out, but suicide creates a death with painful memories for those who longed to be closer to the victim. Each memory doesn't simply contain the sadness of loss, but also an added nuance of pain because they could not reach the victim.

To me the harpies represent the reasons and torments that lead people to take their own lives, but as you'll notice the harpies are alive and still active to continue their torment. And even trying to understand this torment assails those left behind. Schools do too little, people don't care enough, and pain goes unrecognized, but after another life is lost everyone looks back and points to incidents and people. What good does it do now? Maybe we can stop them from tormenting anyone else, but I think the most important approach is to teach love and compassion. I think people don't love enough.

I want you to know that if you've wandered through the grove of the suicides you should know that you're not alone even though the path seems empty when you're there.


Wow, that was more of a downer than I expected... and I wanted to end with some love.


Here's "Pure" by The Lightning Seeds