Not even 'Edward' should go around biting.

I think Twilight fans are a bit much. I’m not against them– I’ve read all the books and seen the movies. I do see why they like it, but I think the obsession can get a little extreme.

I thought they were creepy but never THIS creepy. A girl watching New Moon in Michigan was actually bitten this weekend while watching New Moon. It wasn’t a sexy nibble gone wrong or a hungry moviegoer who mistook her for a snack but a 45 year old pervert sitting in the seat behind her.

He didn’t break the skin, and he hasn’t been caught yet. I assume she’ll be too creeped out to go to the movies anytime soon. I’m sure I would be too (after being disinfected, sanitized and had my tetanus shot)

Though it might seem that most of the girls are into vampires with the Twilight, True Blood and Vampire Diaries craze I hope biting doesn’t become the new pick up line. Unless you’re Robert Pattison  and she has a Twilight tattoo, I’m pretty sure it won’t work.

via Perez

I’ve spent the past few mights replaying Mass Effect on various difficulties. The one thing I’ve always loved about that game was that fact that even after 5 playthroughs, there was still more to be found. I’m itching for Mass Effect 2, started after I preordered it from Amazon.com. The bioware forums do a good job of keeping it at bay. There are enough tidbits there to keep me complacent.

Anyway, it’s gotten me thinking about Bioware in general. Here you have a company that pumps out amazing games, that actually listens to it’s customers and fans and even some of the “haters”. They genuinely seem to care about the games they make, and the people that buy them. It’s a refreshing change from the usual “we hear you, but we don’t give a flying fuck” nature of a lot of companies. Bioware: Thank you. You make me proud.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

On the advice of a good friend of mine, I’m going to read Steven Pinker’s “The Blank Slate”. Amazon.com has been cooperative, so now all I have to do is wait for it to arrive. If there was ever a time I was rooting for UPS, this is it (although I admit the arrival of Mass Effect 2 next January will be the greatest UPS delivery I’ve ever gotten). Also re-watching Taxi Driver.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It’s still pretty warm out, for the moment. I’ve had my windows open for the past few days. I’ve also been eaten alive by mosquitoes. My damn neighbors have a massive pool which they have never drained for the winter, OR covered properly. So the stagnant water breeds the little bastards, and I suffer for it. Seriously considering going to a payphone and lodging an anonymous complaint with 311.

Chances are I’ll make a post later, but in case I don’t, have a good night, internet.

Part One

You Who are Getting Obliterated in the Dancing Swarm of Fireflies,
by Yayoi Kusama, 2006

So Ran called me in the afternoon. He sounded weird, but then, what do I know right? It’s not like I know know him right? (It’s become very apparent over the last 12 hours or so that I’ve missed a WHOLE heap of what’s been going on with Ran.)

I had just finished packing for my trip to Rarotonga when the call came.

Ran: Ayla, Hi.

Ayla: Hi. Guess what I just did??

Ran: Finished your exams?

Ayla: Finished packing. It was more grueling than that last exam. The pressure was crazy – who knew I owned that many pairs of beach appropriate shoes?

Ran: I have something you need to see Ayla.

(cue sinking feeling)

Ayla: Why does this not sound like a good thing.

Ran: I’m sorry, but it’s important.

Ayla: I’m getting the feeling it’s not going to make me happy. Is there any way we could delay this until after my tropical holiday?

Ran: Andre will be there in five minutes.

Ayla: Huh.

***

The car was weirdly silent as we drove out of the city. I mean, Andre is usually pretty quiet, but this was worse than usual. Ran had sent Andre, Trent, and Colt to pick me up. He really seemed to have gone out of his way to make sure I was outnumbered by guys bigger than me.

Not a good sign.

The car stopped at a house I’ve never been to before and Trent and Colt jumped out. Andre and I sat in the car for a moment, him gripping the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles were pale and sharp against his skin.

Ayla: Care to give me a heads up on what I’m walking in to here?

Andre: He wants to make it right – how you were turned, and how you were left without a Pack…. Ask him where he’s been disappearing to for the past few months.

My stomach took a nose dive.

There is nothing that could ever make how I was turned ‘right’.

***

Ran met me at the front door. He looked angry, pale, and sharp. I’ve only ever seen him like that once before. The memory did not inspire confidence.

He grabbed my arm, and my chin, and made sure he had my attention.

Ran: This is important, and it needs to be done.

Then he kissed me.

When he pulled back I realized that it was time to find out what I so desperately didn’t want to know. I shook him off my arm, and stepped away from him.

Ayla: Ran, where have you been going? When you lie, and say you’re tracking down rogues or away on business, where are you really? What do you do when you’re not here?

Ran: I’m sorry, I never wanted to lie to you, but we needed to track him down, and make sure he wasn’t hurting anyone else like he hurt you… I think I’ve found him.

It turned out that Ran had enlisted the help of the Alpha in the area I used to live. It’s a huge territory, and very hard to monitor because a lot of it is rural. They had to interview everyone from his Pack, and everyone outside of his Pack.

They had to threaten, bribe, and ‘persuade’ people to remember everything about every shapeshifter they met eight years ago.

Then they had to fly out to Japan, Mexico, and Australia to follow leads.

One of them led right back here, to a city down the other end of the country.

No so surprisingly the place was being inundated with reports of dog attacks, and people like me, being turned illegally, and then left to die. Overwhelmingly they did die, the ones that didn’t ended up mentally disturbed.

(This whole ’shapeshifter’ thing is way harder on the body and mind than I ever knew. The odds that show I survived both the mauling, and the change are just getting more and more unbelievable.)

With five different regional Alphas, and investigative teams from over eight different territories (apparently when they realized what was going on, and for how long it had been going on they all wanted to chip in and help) It took two weeks of solid work to track the guy down.

Unfortunately there were no reliable witnesses left. Without evidence the Alphas couldn’t act on the next step…

In essence? They wanted me to ID him.

***

I thought long and hard about running. It wasn’t my proudest moment.

I even made a quick plan. I would kick, and break a kneecap, so that he couldn’t chase me, and then run like hell until I was far enough away to change. Then I’d just keep running until I got home, to my bed, and my cat, and my freezer full of steak. (When I get upset I think about warm places, and meat a lot.)

I didn’t run though.

I avoided Ran’s hand, when he tried to place it on my back, and instead stepped through the door on my own. Ran, Trent, and Colt stepped into the room behind me.

There were two men in the room – the Alpha from my old home town, and the one from the guy’s new territory. They introduced themselves and I ignored them.

I studied the man handcuffed to his seat behind a table. He was old – really old, all wizened and skinny. He was scruffy, but fairly benign looking. His beard was untrimmed, and his clothes had definitely seen better days – probably as a result of being dragged to the other end of the country. He sat quietly, staring at the ground, ignoring us all.

“Guys… It was a really long time ago that I was bitten. I was scared out of my mind… I’m not sure. Like I said… It was a long time ago. He seemed bigger. Not as old…”

At that the man looked up and met my eyes, and grinned showing flat yellowed teeth. I took an involuntary breath in and my wolf slammed into my head, taking control in an instant.

I didn’t remember him, but she sure as fuck did.

One moment I was in human form looking at him, and trying to remember. The next I was in wolf form, smelling him and KNOWING that this was the asshole who hurt me.

I didn’t even feel the change. I did feel the difference in my teeth though. They were sharp enough to kill now.

Still bound up in my clothes I leapt at him across the table, ignoring my jeans as they fell to the floor.

Ran managed to act quickly enough to stop me getting my teeth into my attacker. He grabbed me at the ruff of fur back of my neck, and by a handful of the tee shirt and bra that were still looped around my torso and neck.

One of the Alphas said “I’m happy to take that as a positive ID.”  Everyone else in the room agreed. He reached over and casually snapped the old man’s neck.

I stopped struggling against Ran and he immediately pulled me up against his chest, shielding my view and whispering “I’ve got you, easy…”

When he was sure the wolf wasn’t going to take over again he snapped at the other men: “You couldn’t have waited five minutes until she was out of the room? She didn’t need to see that.”

It sounds bad, but while most of me was horrified – part of me was pleased. Like… not just relieved that he was gone, but actually, bloodthirstily ecstatic that the man was dead.

My wolf very much DID need/ want to see the man die I think.

It’s kind of a hard feeling to reconcile myself with. Sure I might turn into an animal every so often, but that doesn’t make me less human does it?

How much of that is my wolf, and how much is me?

To be continued

You know how Ran has been pretty absent for the past few weeks/months?

I found out why tonight – he’s been in my home town.

I’m going to start from the beginning.

Warning: It’s kind of a hard thing to talk about, and to be honest I’m not really in the right state of mind to be making a lot of sense.

rachel a. k.

Eight years ago, when I was 17, I did something stupid.

I was at a party with a few friends doing a little underage drinking. It was a time honored tradition in my rural town, often conducted in someone else’s drafty garage while the parents in residence turned a blind eye. My town had a bit of a ‘as-long-as-it’s-under-my-roof-it’s-safe’ kind of mentality, and for the most-part it worked. The garage would always be well stocked with food, and before midnight the owner of the garage would invariably show up with water, and car lifts home.

I was drinking strawberry flavored vodka pop that night. I remember, because I spilt some of it on my white top. It stained neon pink.

When it turned 10pm I was feeling a little drowsy. I decided to just walk home, instead of waiting for a lift later. I had some stupid idea that my Dad would be annoyed at having to pick me up from just down the road.

Waving goodbye to my friends, I hopped over the back fence and took a shortcut through the sheep fields. To get to the road that lead to my house I had to hop another fence, jump over a creek, and then go through about ten meters of scrubby bushes, and pine trees.

I figured I’d be safe.

I’d done that walk about a million times, before and after school almost every day for the past two years I’d been living in the area.

I wasn’t safe.

***

He must have been watching me come through the sheep, because I had only just stepped into the scrub when he attacked.

Only a few minutes later he left me bleeding and alone in the dirt.

He had torn into my clothes with his teeth and claws, and bitten the living hell out of my shoulder, sinking his teeth in, and shaking his head, then withdrawing and biting again. over and over again, ntil my shoulder looked like mince-meat.

(It’s never really healed right.)

I was lucky he had barely changed. If his big canine teeth had been out I would have lost big chunks of skin, and probably my life.

While he bit and tore at my sholder he also grabbed my chest roughly, and rutted on top of me like a dog in heat.

I was so drunk, and in so much pain at the time, I barely understood what he was doing. I probably could have grabbed his handout from under my clothing if I’d been thinking straight. I might have been able to push him off and run. The guy wasn’t that strong. He was old, and shaking, and raving mad.

The point is I didn’t think to stop him from touching me, or biting me, and I didn’t think to run away.

I just lay there in stunned horror.

***

The aftermath of the attack sucked. Really sucked.

I lay there all night, and in the morning, when the sun rose up over the creek I sat up and looked around. The scrubby bush was the same as it had always been.

My white top was covered in dried blood though, and my jeans were torn.

My shoulder was almost whole again. I could have sworn it had looked worse the night before, but in the daylight it seemed I had been mistaken. The scars were forming, and there were deep, bloodless tears, but it didn’t look like mincemeat. It looked… almost healed.

I snuck home and into the silent house without waking the parents or my brother. I took off my clothes, and put them in a plastic bag, inside an old gym bag, and then hid the bag under a corner of the front verandah to dispose of later.

My parents said nothing about me being out all night.

I slept longer and harder in that month than I’ve ever slept in my life. I wagged weeks of school, just to sneak back into the house after Mum and Dad had left for work, and sleep. The sleep was good. It kept me from thinking about the man, and the attack.

It stopped me from seeing my shoulder.

Then, one night I woke up in indescribable pain.

I fell out of my bed, writhing on the floor, so paralyzed by pain I couldn’t cry out for help. My jaw locked itself together, and I could barely draw enough breath to stay conscious, let alone scream.

Then it was over. I had never before appreciated the absence of pain as much as I appreciated it at that moment. I slowly lurched my way to my feet, ignoring, for the moment, the fact that those feet were covered in fur.

I also ignored the tail.

Sure, I’d never been able to move my ears before that moment, but clearly, I’d figured out a way. Because they were moving. In a strictly human way, of course. there was absolutely no way I’d turned into some sort of a dog.

It. Just. Wasn’t. Possible.

Except… The mirror on my desk said that maybe it was.

***

For the next month, when I wasn’t crying under my bed, or trying to stop myself from having a break down, I was in the school library, or on the computer, trying to figure out why I had turned into a dog.

I discounted the werewolf idea imediately, because… Well, because everyone knows that a werewolf looks like a man-beast. I just looked like a dog. I was convinced that if I could narrow down the type of dog everything would be ok.

(I do not know HOW I thought that would fix everything, but I did.)

In the mean time the rest of my life felt like it was going to shit. Things had been weird with my family for a while. We were once close, but with my parents were contemplating divorce home life was not easy.

Keeping my secret was hard. (I was so desperate to ask for help that I actually said one night that I had turned into a dog. I got sent to my room for ‘carrying on like a child’ and ‘making a scene’) I lashed out. More than once.

I regret some of the things I said and did back in that first few months before I turned 18 and moved out. It’s left a permanent rift between my parents and I.

School, naturally went to shit. I didn’t attend. When I did, I felt claustrophobic. It was all I could do to stay, seated in my chair until the bell rang at the end of each period. Every time we were released from class I would bolt for the door like an oxygen-starved prison inmate, only to arrive outside wondering what the hell the big deal was.

***

Meanwhile I had the dog thing narrowed down to husky. I was pretty sure it wasn’t a wolf – I’ve never seen one before in this country, they don’t live here outside of zoos.

I had myself so convinced that it had been a dog because the alternative was wolf – and I REALLY didn’t want it to have been a wolf. That would have meant werewolf. (Probably.)

The next full moon, and the one after that, and the one after that, all proved me wrong.

I was a wolf. There was no need to argue with the fact. By this point I could feel her stirring inside of me. Part of me, but separate.

It took me seven months to come to terms with the werewolf thing. When I finally did, I decided to get out of the family home. Full moons were beyond dangerous – I had no lock on my door, and a family that was falling to pieces around me. At any moment my mother could, and did, come slamming into my room to tell me she was leaving for a night.

The wolf was done with rural life anyway. She wanted people, and company.

I headed for the city, and vowed never to think about or talk about The Awful Event again. I never wanted to see or think about the man who attacked me ever again.

Instead I re-made myself. I became harder, and scarier. I took up boxing and taekwon do. I had boyfriends, and friends, and regular human jobs. Lots of them. I began to educate myself. I imagined a future.

I became comfortable in my new identity. City slicker by day, werewolf by night, bitchy, and mean all around.

To be continued.

Stedet var Matthæusgades Netto. En herlig institutionel perle i hjertet af det rigtige Vesterbro – stedet, der er så autentisk, at selv det lokale indkøbscenter er en højglansrødglødende millenium-fortolkning af Barndommens gade. Her findes det rette gutturale pres på alle æ’er og perfektionerede nasalklange.

Bedst som Astrid gav mig et møgfald over mine dyre æblevaner, skete det. Man kunne mærke det på den sitrende spænding, der udgik fra et sted omkring de 100 cm høje og angstprovokerende Bratz-dukker: En rallen af ord. Der stod de. Mageløse. Et religiøst moment: Trunte la Cour og Bitten.

“Jeg drikker schgu æææltid én kop Neskaaaaaarffe om dagen. Sort”, hører vi Bitten sige, hvorefter Nina er nødt til at sidde på hug og hulke af grin over ved konserves. Senere finder vi Bitten og Trunte over ved køleskabene. Travlt optagne. Bitten holder en stor bakke æg, mens Trunte tjekker, om det nu også er ordentlige buræg, med en grundighed, man sjældent har været vidne til. Vi gemmer os over ved hylden med nisser, bånd og ‘lav dine egne kreative julekort sæt’, mens vi gør alt, hvad vi kan for at høre mere om Trunte og Bittens indkøbsvaner i – overraskende langt fra Vestegnen – eget habitat.

For ikke bryde sammen af grin kan Astrid i den givne situation ikke gøre andet end at gå i power-shopping-mode. Der blev indkøbt:

-Et glas kalamata-oliven

- Hytteost

- Vatrondeller

- Mørk chokolade

- Hvid chokolade (det er jo altid godt at have et lager)

- En åndssvagt dyr ost

- Trusseindlæg

- Neutral håndsæbe

Nina indkøbte:

- Vatrondeller

- Alt for dyre øko-æbler

- Glemte at købe cykellygter, hvilket ellers var den oprindelige grund til at gå i Netto.

Hvad indholdet af vores indkøbskurv siger om os. vil vi overlade til Christine Feldthaus og resten af ‘Kender du typen’-holdet at udbrede sig om. (Eller til Beebop, der sikkert heller ikke er bleg for at kaste sig ud i en uunderbygget analyse)

So, a full moon has come and gone and you answered my call to tell Deanna why werewolves rule and will utterly kill this match. Thank you, trusted minions. (Can I call you minions yet? Too soon?)

For those who answered the call, you were entered into a draw to win one of 10 copies of Kelley’s Armstrong’s Bitten. Congratulations to all the randomly selected winners and thanks to everyone who entered!

Here are some Twitter entries to offer a just a glimpse of why werewolves are so freaking amazing that I don’t understand why this match is even happening. Right?

Full moon frenzy contest tweets

Keep posted here and on Twitter for another Full Moon Frenzy contest. Guess when?

This is my first post completely written post-arm-fracture. I’m trying out typing without my splint (I’ve been told I can start removing it occasionally), and if things go well (no swelling or pain) I’m hoping to resume regular blogging activity! ::fingers crossed::

There’s a lot written about “comfort reads”, and while I’m not a big re-reader, I do have one or two— Pride and Prejudice and Persuasion are the ones that immediately come to mind.
However, I actually turn more often to audiobooks for “comfort listens” and I actually have more of them than comfort reads.  I will turn to these audiobooks when I want something that I can really relax to while listening. And, often, it’s not just the story that makes me return to these audiobooks: it can also be the reader, or even the way the words flowing over me make me feel.
These books aren’t even necessarily my Top 5 audiobooks. This is mostly due to the fact that more than a few of my Top 5 audiobooks are epic stories, like the series: Outlander, Harry Potter, and Temeraire. For comfort, I tend turn more to the personal stories with which I can deeply identify (paranormal elements notwithstanding ).

Here are a few of my comfort listens:

Sugar Daddy (Travis family series, book 1) by Lisa Kleypas

I’m an unabashed Kleypas fan-girl. And, while many of her books have made my Top 5 lists (and even more would make it into my Top 10s) Liberty Jones story just makes me feel good when I give it a listen. I’ve heard complaints about Jeannie Stith’s Texan accent, but honestly since I can’t tell if it’s authentic, it works for me. She also does a great job weaving this very intimate feeling between Liberty and the listener. It really feels as if Liberty is sitting down telling her story to a friend. Sometimes, when I need a little pick-me-up, I won’t even listen to the whole book. Just a few minutes of listening in to Liberty’s up-beat attitude lifts my spirits.

The Southern Vampire series by Charlaine Harris

This is actually one that’s on my Top 5 audiobook list as well as my Top 5 urban fantasy list. Johanna Parker’s narration takes it to the next level for me. Again, I’m no expert in regional accents, so I can’t really vouch for JP’s authenticity when it comes to Sookie’s northern Louisiana accent, but she really does capture Sookie’s self-deprecating charm and sense of humor way more than Anna Paquin ever has in the True Blood tv series. She also does a wonderful job with Eric’s deadpan (no pun intended) outrageous comments and Pam’s droll observations. After repeatedly listening to the first hour or so of Dead Until Dark whenever the mood hit, I finally decided to work my way through the entire series in audio format. Currently, I’m about to start my “audio re-read” of book 6, Definitely Dead.

Bitten by (Otherworld series, book 1) Kelley Armstrong

The Bitten audiobook is such a great blend of Kelley Armstrong’s incredible writing talent and Aasne Vigesaa’s moody, atmospheric reading. Unlike the Southern Vampire series, I first came across this book in audio format (in audiocassetes, no less!) So, in a lot of ways, AV’s voice really is Elena to me. Honestly, I’d read the phonebook is Kelley Armstrong wrote it, but not only is Bitten one of my favorite Kelley Armstrong novels, but one of my favortie novels, period. Fortunately, the audiobook version does it justice.

Natural Born Charmer by Susan Elizabeth Phillips

NBC is a new addition to my comfort listens. Again, I originally listened to this book rather than reading it, and I’m sure that has a lot to do with why this is going to be a regular visitor on my iPod. The late, incredibly talented Anna Fields has a lot to do with my enjoyment in listening to the story. I’ve been feeling the need to revisit Blue Bailey and Dean Robillard, especially after AnimeJune’s great review, and will probably load it up very soon.

Something I notice is that while only 1 of these audiobooks made my Top 5, they all are at the top of my genre lists for contemporary romance or urban fantasy, as the case may be.

You know, it’s funny, but until I was writing this post I didn’t realize how greatly the readers of these audiobooks impact the fact that they are my comfort listens. I guess when it comes down to it, a book isn’t going to even be considered for an audio re-visit if the story isn’t compelling to me, but it’s my ability to truly connect with the characters that take these stories to that next level of comfort listens. To me, the narrator is the facilitator of that deeper connection.

Round 1 we saw a throw-down between vampire vs. zombie. Vampire won.

Big freaking surprise.

Seriously though, those zombies didn’t have a chance.

By the time zombies amassed their shuffling army of grey-matter gourmets to get organized, a single vampire could have glamoured his/her way to victory and we’d all be happier, if not completely unaware, of what had just happened.

The zombies had a strong defender to speak on behalf of their incomprehensible, groaning masses. Dan tried to pull at heartstrings with talk of killing kittens with every vote for vampire. He waved the patriotic flag and called out vampires as distinctly un-Canadian. But, alas, the allure of the vampire was too strong.

Until now.

I’ll admit to being in the vampire camp. But that was given the choice at the moment. Given another, much cooler alternative one might consider switching one’s allegiance. Because, let’s face it: vampires are, as Christopher Moore so eloquently put it, Bloodsucking Fiends.

You know what else falls into that category?

This:

Leech

Sure, like leeches, vampires were à la mode back in the 1800s. So was rib removal for the sake of fashion. Frankly, they’re becoming a little passé, don’t you think?

You know what “undead” creature hasn’t though?

The werewolf.

I’m going to pull a Dan here and go so far as to say that a vote for vampire in this case literally kills puppies.

Look at this young werewolf and tell me you could vote against it.

Werewolf "puppy"

Round 2. Vampire vs. werewolf.

Bring it.

Full moon frenzy! We all know werewolves are going to kill this round. Leave a comment here or tweet using the #undeathmatch hashtag, listing reasons why and you’ll be entered to win one of 10 copies of Kelley Armstrong’s Bitten.

[UPDATE: Full moon frenzy contest is now closed. Please keep posted for more contests coming soon.]

Life has felt very hard recently. I’m emotional, crying, depressed, hopeless and negative. Not a good place to be.

I’ve been reading self help books, god’s book of joy, thinking about thinking to stop your depression, I can make you rich….I have taken comfort from parts of these books and try to repeat positive mantras to myself but the overwhelming feeling is of distress.

I enjoy my job, I like the people I work with but getting to work is such an effort…getting up in the morning, trying to find something to wear, the journey…I would love to live close to work, have a wardrobe full of lovely outfits, a good night’s sleep, up early in the morning, healthy breakfast and a brisk walk to work, complete my day at work at get home at a reasonable hour and eat a healthy dinner, exercise and sleep. I would love that…will need to work on it.

I feel unattractive; it’s strange because I’m at the weight I always wanted to be throughout my  twenties but ironically I feel older, my nails are bitten, my hair is dry and  because of  drinking coffee my skins is dry and greasy at the  same time.

I want to be at peace with myself.

My relationships are suffering; I feel paranoid, I can’t communicate with my family, I feel they are against me and criticising me, I am resentful to my husband, I feel bullied and bullying, attacked and attacking….always looking for an answer, a resolution, a solution.

My fingers are in pain from knawing at them all morning. I called in sick today because I didn’t sleep last night.

What can I do to alleviate this feeling?

Tell me Life

Toblerone day

Chunk of bite

Bitten off.

What has stopped

The cool running

Fate and redirected

It somewhat

Askew?

Is it illness, embedded

Or a viral bug

Caught quick,

Nifty urchin,

Off the Tube?

More to wit,

Can I control it,

Make it go

Stop with a loud

BANG!!!!!????

Snuffed.

[7^th October]

Nu er jeg jo frisør i Ishøj, ikke, og det kan godt vær’, jeg har fået malerhjerne af alle de kemikalier, iggås. Men her på det sidste har jeg sgu ikke kunnet finde ud af, hvad tarotkortene prøver at fortælle mig. Den anden dag spurgte jeg “Bliver jeg snart lykkelig?”, iggås og så trak jeg Djævlen, ikke? Jeg fik hærrer nøja og smed alle sakse ud.

Hvad skal jeg gøre?

Knuz, Bitten

Check out my debut on Mark Bittman’s Bitten blog on the New York Times on the Web. http://bitten.blogs.nytimes.com/2009/10/06/chopped-stewed-and-jarred/

Wisconsin Dells IS the Waterpark Capitol of the World(R) & what better way to kick off our new series on Wisconsin’s indoor waterparks & water activity centers than with a property located right ‘on the Strip’ in the Dells?

At 16,000 square feet, the Atlantis’ indoor waterpark may feel small in comparison to others in the Dells, but young families will enjoy its “small scale and the ability to keep a close eye on young children.”  With both indoor & outdoor pool areas, the Atlantis includes an indoor waterpark with slides, water splash features and basketball hoops plus a quieter indoor “Lobby Pool”.   Parents may also appreciate the poolside bar, open on weekends in the off season.

For the more adventurous, or those with older children, the Atlantis also includes free tickets for Mt. Olympus just a short walk away.  New for weekends in October – the Mt. Olympus opens Bitten, its “First ever “Haunted Night at the Theme Park””.

Another ‘don’t miss’ for your fall getaway -and just down the street from the Atlantis- are the Army Duck Tours.  Open through October, these original Army Ducks offer daily tours through Dells Glacial Park.  (Money Saving Tip: order tickets online & save $3 per person)

As always, click on over to WisconsinLodging.info to learn more about The Atlantis Waterpark Hotel & Suites as well as more Wisconsin waterpark destinations.

Supernatural erotica— be it speculative fiction or fantasy— is a genre where taboos are catnip. “Uncivilized” behavior, on every front, is the ultimate in escapist literature.

Sci-fi and horror have something else in common with erotica — they’ve both historically demonized as “harmful” and”contributing to juvenile delinquency.” They were each considered pulp fiction in the early days of the paperback revolution— subject to bans, censorship, and angry church campaigns.

In the 1950s, you used to find science fiction exclusively in clandestine collector’s shops where no “respectable” reader would be found. It cost a dime a day to check out a novel! They were outlawed at libraries and “decent” bookstores. Sci-fi authors frequently wrote “porn” without distinguishing whether one genre got them into more trouble than the other. Writing about life on other planets was just as disreputable as writing about life between the sheets.

Years later, as fantasy and sci-fi took entered the sweet spot of the the bestseller lists, the most famous authors’ arms were open to their erotic colleagues. Heinlein, Asimov, Silverberg, Bradbury— all of them were sympathetic to the writer whose sexual point of view had come under the censors’ thumb. They’d been there themselves.

Some famous fantasy and sci-fi authors are still writing erotica under pseudonyms today, because they don’t want to find themselves perpetually tarred with a scarlet letter. Bitten includes a story, “The Unfamiliar,” by a very well known sci-fi woman author who writes erotica under the pen name of “Allison Lawless.”

Ironically, the bleeding edge of eroticism has been in cable television lately, not literature. The erotic vampire writings of Anne Rice and others, so volatile in the 1980s, are now the fount of wisdom for hits like True Blood. I recognize many episode scripts from short stories I published years ago in my original series, “Best American Erotica” — again, a banned book in some quarters!

I was only a tiny bit surprised to see that a BAE alumni, Chris Offutt, was True Blood’s story supervisor for their first season. If you had told him 10 years ago that Hollywood would be embracing his work, I don’t know if he would’ve believed you.

Sera Gamble, screenwriter for the TV cult hit, “Supernatural,” has a story in Bitten, called “The Devil’s Invisible Scissors.” She was scouted for True Blood by the producer, who’d read her horror-erotica in one of my previous anthologies.

Many pop cult experts are surprised to hear that anyone is interested in short stories today, but you can’t say that for the visionaries of the LA film and TV business. They are entirely dependent on short story writers and erotic vanguardists to give them fresh meat.

One of the most legendary of all the “eerie” writers, Francesca Lia Block, is another Bitten author. She created gothic masterpieces for YA literature, like Weetzie Bat, long before before the expression became a catchword. When disaffected youth meet paranormal circumstances— sexual controversy is inevitable. Her fantastic short story, “Lay Me Out Softly,” in Bitten, is an inspiration for a new novel she’s working on now.

One thing that bored me a bit about Gothic lore is its relentless Christian themes. Sometimes you want a taste of something different, that isn’t based on Victorian Colonial fantasies! I lucked out in Bitten, that one of my authors, Tsaurah Litzky, wrote a story called “The Witch of Jerome Avenue,” which comes out of a tradition of Jewish mysticism, where witches are gypsies and shapeshifters from another ancient world. It was such a pleasure to change the gothic lens!

What perhaps gets overlooked in gothic erotica is that when it doesn’t make you swoon, it’s exercising the most damning political and religious satire imaginable. Those Christian themes I mentioned are stretched on the rack to the breaking point, with a few cackles and unrepentant orgasms thrown in. My own personal favorite in Bitten is Ernie Conrick’s story, “Get Thee Behind Me Satan,” which elicits a spectacular downfall from the wages of sin. As a girl who spent a great deal of her childhood on her knees, in pews, worried to death about being “good—” I have to say I enjoy a little enlightened revenge.

Susie Is the editor of the new Chronicle anthology, Bitten: Dark Erotic Stories

Um mich war es Licht,
ins Dunkel traute ich mich nicht…

Ich hab schon länger Nichts mit euch zu tun gehabt,
war auf Anderes fixiert, habe mich verausgabt.

Doch ihr habt mich erinnert daran,
dass Belohnung gut ist, wenn der Arbeit ist genug getan.

Ihr sagtet auch, ich müsste bloß bitten, wenn ich euch brauchte,
aber ich tat es nicht, bevor ich ins Dunkel eintauchte.

Verängstigt kam ich zurück ins Licht,
faltete sodann die Hände vor meinem Gesicht…

Dann tat ich, was schon längst überfällig war,
Lieb wie immer, sagtet ihr “Hab keine Angst, wir sind ja da”.

Mit euch an meiner Seite tauchte ich wieder ein,
ohne Angst, denn ich wußte, ich würde stets sicher sein.

Die durch die Angst verzerrten Fratzen verwandelten sich
und positive Botschaften überraschten mich.

Dank euch ist wiedermal ein Problem gelöst…
Doch ich frag mich: Hab ich die ganze Zeit gedöst?

Warum habe ich nicht um eure Unterstützung gebeten,
als in mir schon alle Zellen um Hilfe flehten?

Eins steht jetzt mit Sicherheit fest für immer:
So ein Dummerle bin ich kein 2. Mal, nie und nimmer!

Nächstes Mal werde ich nicht lange zögern, werd euch fragen,
wenn irgendwelche Zweifel, Unsicherheiten oder Ängste mich plagen.

Ich bin jetzt froh, dass ich sie doch noch nahm, eure Hand,
vielen lieben Dank für euren sehr wirkungsvollen Beistand.