Maria Alexander News and Updates from TheHandlessPoet.com

First, while I live a short distance from where the fire started in La Canada, everyone is fine. I've got Robie somewhere well away from the hideous plumes of smoke that surround our home, and I'm staying with Lord Arux at his parent's house in Beverly Hills. We left Friday night because the smoke was so bad. I went back yesterday for some clothes. My townhouse wreaked so terribly of smoke that my throat started to burn within a few moments of being there.

Here are some photos, most taken from in front of my townhouse.

Meanwhile, the Dark Delicacies signing was very successful. Great turnout. I got to sit with Mick Garris, which is always such a treat, and just hang with some of my heroes. Schow showed up and I got to introduce him to Lord Arux.

And there you have it.

There's a big fire just over the freeway from my apartment. I was driving up the freeway towards my place after the Dark Delicacies writers meeting and saw this apocalyptic orange glow near my house crowned with skyward plumes of smoke.

I'd show you a scary photo, but my computer is brain dead and won't detect my camera.

Got a call from the Glendale Fire Department, who said to sit tight for now. Keeping my cell phone by my pillow to answer for updates.

Gosh, I love living in the hills!

After finishing the first draft of something new and shiny that I sent my agent around midnight, I fell fast asleep last night. Apparently, I didn't even hear Robie throwing to the ground a watch he'd conquered on the dresser, along with its box. While I wear earplugs, they don't preclude noises like that.

The dream images were striking to say the least. After flying around a campus -- I'd found a water bottle that defied gravity and held on -- I entered an office. Only one other colleague was still there, it was so late. I seldom had to visit the office because I was working remotely. But there I was, strolling around, when I found one of my stories printed out on the desk of a male colleague, with some brutal criticism written all over it. One of the criticisms was that I had a "pathetic vocabulary" (yes, I remember reading this, which in and of itself breaks dream rules).

The fellow was so proud of his critique that he'd had it replicated onto greeting cards with the image of a couple getting married on it, green grass and church in the background. The bride was looking away, smiling as she gathered up her voluminous skirts. In one case, he'd had the same image and words transposed onto a sort of canvas that covered a wooden block the size of a large paperback.

I was appalled.

I asked the guy in the office. "Where is this fellow now?" The guy replied that he didn't know but that the fellow had spread this criticism far and wide amongst the other employees.

That's when I picked up a Sharpee and wrote on not just the story printout, but on the canvas print: "Opinions are like assholes; everyone's got one. And while you're certainly entitled to yours, if you continue this campaign of disparagement in the office, I'll see you in HR with your 'pathetic' artwork, you jackass. Because your obvious jealousy is disturbing in a lot of ways you don't mean it to be."

I then realized this guy was so deeply disturbed that he would probably start stalking me, and I immediately regretted taking the matter into my own hands.

It was only after I woke up that I realized that I'd done everything with words in dreams I was not supposed to be able to do -- read, write, remember.

Ah, well. Rule breaking is over for me this morning. Onto Uncle Walt's.

On August 30th at 2:00pm, I'll be signing the anthology Dark Delicacies III: HAUNTED, the third in the award-winning series, at Dark Delicacies itself. The anthology includes work by Clive Barker, Chuck Palahniuk, Kevin J. Anderson, Richard Christian Matheson and Heather Graham.

Lurking somewhere within is my story, "Though Thy Lips Are Pale," a brutal medieval tale set in the dark woods of Paimpont.

Looking forward to seeing you there!

This is the birthday month, ladies and gentlemen! Celebrate the lovely Leo in your life by buying her prezzies! (Her birthday is August 23rd, by the way.)

I'm told an early birthday prezzie is winging its way to me -- something I'd been dying to get for a while. It's the t-shirt "And Then Buffy Staked Edward. The End." But it had to come from Australia because Jinx.com is utterly out of them in my size (or any size except Small for women, actually).

Squeee!

I just want you all to know that I sat through Twilight.

I know some of y'all love this book/movie/Edward's hair. But for me, it was two of the most painful hours of my existence watching the Bella character's excruciatingly apathetic demeanor. She had no personality whatsoever, as far as I could tell. Her mortal high school friends were sweet and fun and likable, but I fucking wanted to punch her repeatedly for being so wooden. I don't think this was the actor's fault, but rather the director and/or the actual character. I mean, she had no talents, no personality, NOTHING. Is this what our young girls aspire to now? If I'm a fucking starched cotton sheet, the hottest boy in the school will want me? Seriously?

As for the film, there were huge holes in the story regarding Edward's family and why the "kids" were perpetually in high school. And the excuse for why they can't be in the sun was freaking lame. The worst part about the perpetual high school thing was that you and I both know we'd go Columbine having to be there one more year, much less decades. The whole setup for their unlives was poorly executed and made no sense whatsoever. And what is up with that stupid accent that Edward had? He never said anything that was "from another time." He just sputtered occasionally in this inane accent that no one comments on. His brothers and sisters don't have the stupid accent. Where does it come from?

I was hoping this would be at least watchable, even if it was saturated with teen romance. I'm totally willing to cut Meyers the slack and believe the book is much better at telling the story. The film, however, was a failure to tell that story -- or any sensible story -- on a lot of levels.

And there you have it.