Maria Alexander News and Updates from TheHandlessPoet.com

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?

One year ago today, Lord Arux met me at Mucho Mas, where he drank two margaritas (which he hated but wanted to impress me) and ate mediocre Mexican food (which he didn't hate as much but ate anyway). He'd offered to come all the way to Montrose from Lake Balboa, but I thought it more fair to meet halfway. A favorite hangout after Dark Delicacies events, Mucho Mas was the most obvious midpoint.

During our date, he told me he wasn't ready to date. This did not stop him from proceeding to ask me out immediately for a second date.

Knowing the "I'm not ready to date" line is almost always hooey, I said yes.

If someone had told me a year and a half ago that I'd be dating a guy who wasn't a masochist, loved Disney and covered his eyes during horror movies, I'd have said, "No way!" and laughed. Hard. But if they had told me it would be the fellow I'd fallen for big time at a LARP in 2005 -- a man I'd never forgotten and who was ever a muse, I'd have said, "No way!" and let out a noise that sounded something not unlike "SQUEEEEEEEE!"

I am still "squeeeing."

Happy First Anniversary, My Sweetheart!

Dreamed last night that Lord Arux and I were leaving a building where a young woman had just gotten married. The wedding party and celebrants -- maybe ten at most -- spilled outside. We were getting into the car to leave, which was parked near the building entrance. I climbed into the passenger seat, while Lord Arux took the driver's seat. The petite bride in her cute white, multi-tiered dress stood on the steps of the building, smiling and laughing. I told Lord Arux, "Look! She's about to throw the bouquet!" Just as we shut the car doors she turned her back to us and threw it. Her female friends leaped and reached for the purple and pink flowers...

...but they landed square on my car door handle.

I turned to Lord Arux to show him the weird thing that had happened but he had quickly fallen asleep at the wheel. I touched his face and he woke right up. He was a bit dubious about my car catching the bouquet, but I kept pointing to it until he saw what had happened.

I don't think my car has ever even had a boyfriend or girlfriend. Next time any of you see Cthonia, ask her who she thinks the lucky auto will be!

I realize that it's due to signatory problems, but the WGA has committed a terrible crime against art. (All right, so that's a tad melodramatic. Deal.) The organization has nominated the ridiculously stupid STAR TREK and overly simplistic AVATAR for writing awards, while the brilliant little Sundance favorite MARY AND MAX cannot be mentioned.

I saw AVATAR yesterday in 3D at the Arclight. While I found it very entertaining and the visuals Tasered me in my seat*, the story was, as Lord Arux pointed out, a ripoff of POCAHONTAS but with blue-skinned Native Americans. It's not great writing. It's a good movie that's surreal and beautiful to behold. But the writing is totally meh. Every opportunity he had to nuance the characters and motivations was squandered. I kept thinking how Miyazaki would have approached it. We would have gotten to see something far more than a cliché "fairy tale." (And could we please stop defending overly simplistic, pastiche stories by calling them "fairy tales"?) But then, it's James Cameron not Miyazaki. Just saying the two names in the same sentence sums up the shortfall.

In its defense, it was really nice to see Science for once being the good guys, the compassionate observers and preservers, while the American Capitalists were the godless bad guys. That I dug. (Although I bristle at anyone characterizing godlessness as being automatically uncompassionate but whatever.) I cared about the characters. Loved the female Han Solo. The grief of the Na'vi broke my heart (although I credit the acting more than the writing on that count). And the alien world was gorgeous beyond description (with which I credit the art director, artists and production designer). But with inconsistencies constantly perforating the story's universe, it wasn't award-worthy writing.



What was worthy was MARY AND MAX. You've probably never heard of much less seen this incredibly charming stop-motion animation film from Australia. With its sentimental soundtrack including Pink Martini and the London Pops Orchestra, MARY AND MAX has already won a number of international awards. It's based on the true story of an 8-year-old girl in Australia who randomly writes to a 44-year-old Jewish man in New York and their ensuing pen-relationship over the next 18 years. It's lyrical, funny, and utterly heart-piercing. The animation is extraordinarily detailed, always a visual feast even though the predominate palette is black and brown. The letters exchanged had to have been real, they were so quixotic and endearing. The voice cast featured Toni Collette, Philip Seymour Hoffman and Eric Bana.

(And, just for comparison, MARY AND MAX has a 93% on Rotten Tomatoes while AVATAR has an 82% approval rating.)

The fact that the WGA couldn't find anything better to nominate really just bears witness to the withering art once known in America as film. The only crime against art greater is that you can no longer see MARY AND MAX in theaters and it's not yet available on DVD. However, you can catch it on "cable on demand" and other venues. Check the website for details.

I made the last payment on Cthonia today. Next month, I will treat her to a good detailing to celebrate that she's totally mine at long last. Bwahahahaha!

It feels glorious to be back to the business of writing, to have the real estate drama firmly behind me. Just about everything is unpacked. I have artwork still to frame and mount but that's coming along as time allows. I've even gone back to the gym. The act of moving strengthened all the bits that were aching and now I can even lift weights. Amazing!

A portentous start to the new year, I say. Hope to have some publishing news to announce soon, too!