Maria Alexander News and Updates from TheHandlessPoet.com

Okay, it was more of a gentle squeeze to make sure there were no weak points in the bubble wrap that needed reinforcement, but I did pack Len Wein's Eisner Award this weekend for transport as Lord Arux and I helped him and his lovely wife, Chris, move for a bit on Saturday. They're finally returning to their house, which has been repaired since the fire.

It was a busy weekend...

"39 Regrets"
We'd headed over to help shortly after I'd heard from Chris Conlon that my light verse entitled "39 Regrets" had been accepted by the Alfred Hitchcock poetry anthology, A Sea of Alone. I'm especially pleased because I'd been inspired to write the poem the day before the deadline. That deadline has now been extended, so it's possible that I'll have another inspiration. By wild coincidence, just before this project was announced, I'd gone on a Hitchcock binge with Netflix, trying to catch up on the master filmmaker.

Welcome, Matt F'n Wallace!
Saturday night, we hopped over to say howdy with Christa Faust as we welcomed Matt Wallace to the 'hood. Much blood splattered the TV screen from the WEC as we chatted and snacked our way to better acquaintance.

Fuzzies Under Foot
Yesterday I bought a beautiful, handwoven rug for the bedroom at Angel Rugs downtown. The kitties immediately claimed it -- especially Robie, who chased Saphron off of it a couple of times. For those building their Cthulhu investigator-Steampunk-Victorian study, the furniture store across the street from the rug shop is an absolute must-see. The Victorian and Baroque-replica furniture is not only gorgeous but very reasonably priced. I drooled all over everything inside. But fear not, germophobes, as I'm sure they'll clean it up by the time you visit.

"You're Queen of the World!"
The Oscars did not disappoint except for the moment when they left off Farrah Fawcett from the 2009 death count. (Oscar FAIL.) Otherwise, wasn't it awesome to see Bigelow win Best Director? At the party we were at, there was then much "Yo, Cameron! Suck on this, swallow and keep it down!" If you can't tell, there weren't a lot of AVATAR fans in the room. It was very cool that Barbra Streisand had the honor of giving the first Oscar to a female director. Back in 1991 Streisand's PRINCE OF TIDES was nominated for 7 Academy Awards -- including Best Picture and Best Adapted Screenplay -- but not one of those were for Best Director. Some speculated that Streisand was overlooked because she was a woman.* We watched the whole thing amidst the happiness that is Devi Snively's living room.

And There's More
Was that it? Whew! I've not even blogged about our evening at the 24th Annual Awards for the American Society for Cinematography (here are some photos), or even the fabulous Steampunk game I played in the weekend before that. As they say, more when I can!


*Although, she was nominated by the DGA and the Golden Globes, which were arguable both important nominations.

Because the French are such terrible hedonists and decadent beyond belief, their scandals, of course, eclipse ours. They tremble over terrible things like...Carla Bruni appearing at a State dinner wearing a dress without a bra.

Yeah. Because they're SO effing loose over there.

If you're not catching my sarcasm, let me hand it to you. Like I've said before, it's an American myth that the French are sexually decadent. Carla Bruni not wearing a bra is considered a scandale -- so shocking that it made front page news on the Yahoo! news portal, where people are speculating how this will affect politics. They're even lamenting that the British tabloids have picked it up. Sarkozy's marriage to her was the gossip and scandal of the country. If you ask the average French person, they'd show you something a bit less than respect for Sarko's choice in mates given his position. The word "circus" would probably come up.

I suspect that this myth arose in conjunction with a fear that some Americans have of Socialism. It's as if they need to manufacture moral distinctions that just aren't there to make them feel more God-fearing and righteous compared to the "godless" Socialists. They would be hard-pressed to admit that French Catholicism played a big role in the renunciation of overly consumerist interests in the lives of French people and therefore in the development of their government. The righteous Americans have a hard time admitting the "godless" Socialists have a greater interest in helping the poor than they do. They'd rather feel that their God -- the one that blesses rampant Capitalism -- is better. That their economic system is therefore superior. Although, in most cases, they don't even know what a Socialist really is, but that's never stopped anyone from forming an opinion.

In my mind, that's the real scandal, the lack of education around various economic systems and how they arose. But shouldn't "No Child Left Behind" have taken care of that?

Yeah. Thought not.

Monday, I get to hop down to Anaheim to watch a shoot based on The Little Script I wrote for one of my favorite characters. People in charge of that character and its attraction had to take a pass at The Little Script, so it's not totally me anymore. But I'm stoked nonetheless because The Little Script made it to this point with virtually no changes and lots of praise. The world will be able to see The Little Video in a few months. I'll post a link when it launches. It will be, I dare say, anerable.

I also got word about some special work coming soon. Due to NDA, can't say a peep about it other than that, true to my transits, March is going to be very interesting indeed...

On Sunday, Lord Arux and I played Accomplice, the live action mystery game complete with on-the-spot puzzle solving, interaction with professional actors posing as characters in the story, and surprises that only the streets of Hollywood can give with its touristy, kitschy shenanigans.

Unfortunately, I can't say very much at all about what exactly happened, as that would spoil it for anyone who wanted to play. So I won't.

However, I can say that, while the puzzles and clues were a bit on the easy side for Lord Arux and myself, the acting was top notch and really entertaining every moment of the way, plus we got free beer. (Okay, I got free beer. I drank Lord Arux's beer, even the awful Coors Light.) Afterward I got to chat for a few seconds with Tom Salamon, who is one of the writers. Really nice, very interesting fellow. He originally created the show in New York with his sister, who's a psychotherapist. I find it interesting that their approach is damned similar to Dead Earth's games: not geared toward gamers but more of a theatrical experience. To that end, this is a great quote:

As far as we’re concerned, an interesting and involving experience can be designed in an apartment complex with a certain amount of creativity. It’s not about seeing the sites for us, it’s about creating an escapist experience that can immerse people in our world for a few hours and get involved in a story outside of their own.

Which is precisely what Dead Earth did.

I'm dying to talk about a major synchronicity that happened at the end, but that's just not going to happen with anyone who hasn't played already. Los Angelenos, consider your bottoms booted to the ticket box. I don't know if it's still on, but I hear that, if you enter "shutter" in the discount code, you get 50% off.

Now go help Nikki Desmond!

At 8:00pm, I'll be on The Rev Mel Show at Talking Sex Radio with the fabulous Christa Faust discussing writing, sex and other hot topics.

To watch the live stream, register with the site and navigate to the Chat menu. Locate someone in the chat room with a video cam icon and right-click for the menu to access the show. If you have any trouble, just ask the people in the chat room. They're very nice folk! You can ask questions directly in the chat room or call into the show. Number will be provided during the live stream.

Keep in mind this is an adult site focused on kink and alternative lifestyles -- hence all the hoops to jump getting in. Have fun!

Am barely conscious today, which is a step up from yesterday. If I don't count France, where I contracted every possible germ known to Gaul, I haven't had the flu or even a cold since 2004. And now that I have the flu, I must say that, even as I'm flattened on the bed and hacking up my innards, it's easier to deal with than any female ailment I've suffered in the interim.

Just saying.

Wish I could work. Wish I could write. All I can do is sleep, lazily toss the jingly ball for Robie (who brings it right back), and wish I was well enough to get anything done. Haven't heard a peep from the insurance people about my claim. Meanwhile, I'm reading Last Chance to See, which is wonderful. Cursing the Academy for neglecting Mary and Max. Lord Arux says Fantastic Mr. Fox was dreadful. I believe him.

Nose has just started running. Awesome.

I've been an insanely busy girl.

Last night, I put the finishing touches on my latest poetry collection, At Louche Ends: Poetry for the Decadent, the Damned and the Absinthe-Minded. I'm submitting it to a variety of poetry competitions. Since almost no one is actually publishing poetry collections anymore except literary boutiques, I figure doing something is better than nothing. The only problem is that they almost all have a minimum of 48 pages. I'm not the most prolific poet, so that was a stretch for me if I wanted to only include the very best of what I've written. As it stands, there are a couple of mopey goth girl poems I'd rather not include if I could get away with it. I'm hoping the strength of the others can carry them over the threshold. It is, after all, a sort of modern pastiche of Baudelaire and Lautreamont, which means it'll probably drop like a cannon ball in a swimming pool with the literary houses.

I then started creating a fiction collection for a separate set of competitions. Again, not a lot of people publishing fiction collections. And it's fun to put together. It's really helping me see the road I've been on as an author. Just try it sometime as an exercise if nothing else. I'm calling it, naturally enough, Tales from the Handless Poet. And I'm doing a brisk polish on my Hunted episode before sending it off to Bob and Andrew.

MR. WICKER has been submitted to a very respectable small press. I'm probably going to continue submitting it to similar presses, ones that are willing to take more risks in terms of creativity. The book market now is so wobbly, the only thing anyone seems to want are the traditional tropes, which seem to be sure sales. Being too unique is especially not a plus these days.

Speaking of unique, my visit with Steven Forrest in December had a major impact on me as a person and astrologer, but mostly as an author. There's a true story I've been needing to publish but I wasn't sure how. Steve pulled it out in the reading, much to my astonishment. I was corresponding with Steve about it the other day and it's now crystal clear how to proceed. It's going to take me into a whole 'nother publishing realm, but that's okay. Should be an adventure!

At present, I'm home nursing both myself, because I'm not feeling too swift, and my condo, which had a bursted pipe. Yes, bursted. I kept asking the plumber and emergency crew, "Don't you mean busted?" No, "bursted." All should be well, though. Machines rumbling in the house, drying things out. Holes in the walls where they removed damaged wet stuff, but it's closed off so kitties can't wander inside. The ancient linoleum is toast. Adjuster should be calling to set up an appointment soon. The most painful part was writing the $500 check that covers my deductible. Ouch!

Is it any wonder I feel a bit nutty?