Life’s been so busy lately that I haven’t had much time to blog—but my subconscious obviously has no intention of taking a break. One morning in May I actually woke and tweeted seven dreams.

Here—for those who wish to take a tour of my sleeping mind—are 104 dreams I tweeted in May all in one place.

I dreamt I took part in a live competition to write a 5-minute script in 5 minutes to be performed (and judged) by professional actors. 9:17 AM May 31st

I dreamt I’d once appeared on Mad About You as a Fruit of the Loom fruit. I argued with another actor about which of us had been the orange. 9:14 AM May 31st

I dreamt I was telling my new wife the reasons my old wife had run off and abandoned me. Neither of these woman was my actual wife, however. 9:09 AM May 31st

I dreamt I taught an alien to treat me as an equal, and not act subserviently. But when he went off on his own, I think that got him killed. 9:07 AM May 31st

I dreamt I was in line at Disneyland with Leonard Nimoy. Great conversation! We parted before he could finish a Neal Stephenson anecdote. 9:03 AM May 31st

I dreamt I met the woman who’d put me up for adoption, and read to her childhood diary entries about how much I hated her, making her cry. 8:59 AM May 31st

I dreamt I lived in an apartment and leaned over our terrace railing watching a very polite marathon go by — the runners were single file! 8:04 AM May 30th

I dreamed I came across nine tree stumps in the woods in a three-by-three square. Standing atop two of them were Joshua Bilmes and Bob Howe. 8:00 AM May 30th

I dreamt two soaking-wet woman wearing swimsuits stood at my door holding a baby — for some reason special — that had just been born. 7:58 AM May 30th (more…)

First thing I did after waking this morning was to sit down and start working. First thing Irene did this morning was to head outside. I think she made the better choice.

But at least I got to share in the reward.

Shortly after I’d started working, the phone rang, and since it was so early, I thought, “Uh-oh, what’s wrong?” Luckily, no one had died. It was Irene calling to tell me to quickly get outside to see the box turtle wandering around our yard. “Quickly” because a turtle can move quite fast when it knows it’s being watched, and if I wanted to catch a glimpse of it, I couldn’t dawdle.

Check out the cutie below.

This was a smaller one than we saw last week—maybe only five inches long.

Irene is now one box turtle ahead of me this season (the score is 3-2), as she saw one earlier in the week about a mile down the road. Last year, we saw so many through the spring and summer (14? 16? 18?) that we lost count. I’m hoping this year proves to be the same.

I’ve autographed many artifacts over the years, but none has affected me as deeply as copies of the 1975 Marvel Con program books which arrived yesterday from a collector. One of the highlights of that program were eight pages of photos of the Bullpen as it existed 35 years ago. (You can see those photos on display over at Diversions of the Groovy Kind.)

This fan wanted to get as many of those photos signed as was still possible, but before I signed my name, I looked through those pictures of old friends, many with autographs from those who were no longer with us to autograph anything ever again, and I found myself getting choked up and near tears.

I had to set aside the books for signing until today, when was I better prepared to look through those pages without weeping.

There was Irene, looking as I’d first met her. (And there we both are below, as I’ve already shared with you.)

(more…)

Balticon is next weekend, and as usual with local cons (as local as a con two hours away can be), I tend to condense the experience into a single long day.

This year, that day will be Saturday the 29th.

Here’s where you’ll be able to track me down.

3:30 p.m.: Reading. (I’ll probably read the original story from my zombie collection What Will Come After, which I don’t think I’ve read before at either Balticon or Capclave.)

5:00 p.m.: What’s Love Got To Do With It? (What is the place of love in the stories you like to read? What does it do for the reader? with Elaine Corvidae, Maria V. Snyder, and Anthony Stevens)

See you there!

Those who’ve been waiting for all the iris neepery to come to an end can celebrate—because the last first iris has bloomed.

By which I mean that though there are plenty more still to pop, there will be no additional unseen varieties beyond this one, known as Conjuration. (That’s Gold Galore you can see off to the left behind it, and some unnamed purple iris to the right.)

For all 18 varieties that have bloomed this year, check out flickr.

Another busy day, but I still managed to get outside for a bit to check out the new iris that popped this afternoon. It’s another one we picked up last year at Exline Iris Garden.

Its name is Betty Simon. And it’s one of my favorites.

For those sick of garden neepery, don’t worry—there’s only one more new variety to bloom. And then it will be back to our regularly scheduled program.

It’s gotten busy around here, so busy that I’m not shaving, and barely taking time away from the keyboard for meals. Yesterday, I even forgot to walk to the end of the driveway to check for mail! And for a writer not to check his mail … well, you know how busy that means I must be!

But I forced myself away from the computer for a few minutes to take a look at three new varieties of iris which bloomed today.

First up, Lime Fizz, which I bought last year at Exline Iris Garden.

(more…)

In response to repeated requests (OK—make that one request), here’s a column I wrote for The Comics Journal back in 1978. It was pointed out to me that though I posted the text of all of my mid-’80s TCJ Ethics columns here, I never shared my much earlier one-off which I’d called “Bullpen Bull.”

As you’ll see, I used to scribble down quips made by my fellow Bullpenners, and once I was no longer on staff, I decided to share my favorites.

My favorite from among my favorites? The day production manager John Verpoorten, bemoaning how late our books had become, walked into the Bullpen, towering over us all, and said, “I was just speaking to our printer. He was wondering if we were still in business.”

My grandfather, Nathan Goldstein, would be very ashamed of me right now. Were he alive, that is. Lucky for me, Grandpa Nat died more than 20 years ago.

Let me explain.

Irene and I got together last night with Karen and Charlie Newton, Sharon and Frank Patry, and Risa and Sandy Stewart at Charles Town Races and Slots for dinner and, well, what did you expect—racing!

Before heading to the track, I asked the person who knows more about racing than anyone I know—Barry Malzberg—for advice, and whether he wanted me to place any bets for him. The only thing he told me was—bet Jackson Bend to Show in the Preakness. Which I did.

I’ve never seen the local track as packed as it was last night. It’s as if every gambler within driving distance decided to turn up and wager. Once the Preakness started, and the crowd began screaming, all I could think was, “Where’s Grandpa Nat?”

My grandfather was a bookie, you see (I’ll tell you the whole story someday), and as I looked around at the shouting, the cursing, the veins popping on foreheads, I almost expected to see him there.

Jackson Bend ran third for most of the race, dropped back going into the final turn, and didn’t regain any ground by the time the broadcast cut off reporting on the standings. So I thought, “oh, well,” tucked the ticket into my pocket, and went off with my friends to have dinner before the local racing began. (Those of you who paid attention to who finished where in the Preakness already can tell where this is going.)

After a wonderful dinner, we returned to the track, where I actually won three of my bets on the local races. Here I am after I put $2.00 on Little Runner to Show in the third race. My $2.00 turned into a whopping $5.60.

(more…)

Two additional varieties of iris bloomed today. We don’t know the names of either of them, because, well, we didn’t buy them.

The first came into our possession because Irene was driving down the road several miles away here in Back Creek Valley, saw some blooming iris she liked, and stopped and asked whether she could come back and take a few rhizomes at the end of the season. She traded some of our purple iris in return, because that’s the neighborly thing to do.

(more…)