The One-Thousand

On The Sofa, 4th and 71

noreply@blogger.com (Matthew Sanborn Smith) — Sat, 05 Jul 2008 02:28:00 +0000

The title of this post sounds like an insane football game, doesn't it?

First off, on the StarShipSofa this week:

ME!

http://www.starshipsofa.com/podcast/Aural_Delights_No_31_Mary_Rosenblume.mp3

Aural Delights No 31 Mary Rosenblum

Poetry: Interstellar Tract by Bruce Boston

Flash Fiction: Sunday Dinner by Matthew Sanborn Smith

Main Fiction: The Rainmaker by Mary Rosenblum

Narrators: Paul Caggegi Julie Davis Dale Manley

Dale Manley read my story Sunday Dinner (first seen on this blog, faithful readers) and I thought he did a great job. Made my mouth water just listening to it. If you're not familiar with the tale, it's a story about a guy who sniffs magazines. And if that doesn't entice you, well friend, you are unenticeable.

Next up, Happy 4th! I didn't do anything very fourthy today, just worked for extra pay. I'll be celebrating that on the 11th when the money's in the bank.

Only 929 to go! Story #71 went out the door today. It's called Dritty Does. And he does, too. As for me, I feel myself picking up speed.

One of the greatest science fiction films is going to soon become even greater. A full length version of Metropolis was found in Argentina: http://film.guardian.co.uk/features/featurepages/0,,2289177,00.html?gusrc=rss&feed=media

I, for one, can't wait to see the restored version.

At this moment, life is good. I've got the weekend off, I'm eager to write and I'm going to have some Maple Walnut Ice Cream. I have to put that in capitals because it's the official ice cream of displaced New English everywhere.

George Carlin Has Died

noreply@blogger.com (Matthew Sanborn Smith) — Mon, 23 Jun 2008 10:23:00 +0000

I can't even begin to explain the huge influence George Carlin had on my sense of humor, much less my entire way of thinking. My sister turned me onto him in the early eighties with his 'best of' album Indecent Exposure. I taped it, shared it with all of my friends outside of school and even shared it with my mother (what was I thinking there?). Shortly thereafter, we discovered his HBO specials and the world was never the same.

His comedy became meaner and angrier in the last ten years and there was more commentary than before, but when he wanted to be funny, he'd still get me. Even at seventy years old the guy could have me in tears, I was laughing so hard. One reason that I was in awe of him was that even after fifty years in comedy, his act was still one of the most offensive and provocative out there. Who else could say that? Who, in any profession, spent forty years on the cutting edge?

George Carlin was insane, immature, biting, ridiculous, brilliant, insightful, and a host of other magnificent adjectives. From him I learned the term "Mongolian cluster fuck," and I always think of him when my dog freaks out upon my return from getting the mail at the end of the driveway. The world has lost someone special and important. I'll close with my favorite Carlin line:

"I never had a ten, but once I had five twos."

Our Story So Far

noreply@blogger.com (Matthew Sanborn Smith) — Sat, 21 Jun 2008 16:35:00 +0000

I've added twelve stories to The One-Thousand this year. By that I mean, I've added them not to this blog but to my ultimate goal of one thousand stories sent to editors by the time I'm fifty. I guess naming your blog after your goal can get confusing, especially when you're blogging about your goal. Although I need to work faster in order to achieve the goal, I'm still happy because last year I only added five stories, and the year before that only four. If the year ended today, it would still be my most productive year so far in terms of number of stories, if not words written.

I'm working on a novel around the edges. I imagine I've mentioned it here before. It's called "The Inner Workings of the Artificial Mind." This will count as part of The One-Thousand when it's finished and whatever year it's done will certainly be a record-breaker in terms of words completed. I only count words sent to editors as words complete when I mention that stat here.

I have 3,959 days left to complete The One-Thousand. I have 970 stories left to complete. It boils up to a story every four days. I'm not at that point yet and because I'm not, there will come a time when I'm down to having to complete a story every three days or less. I hope I'll have more free time when I get older.

Signing off now to go work on stories.

Aural Delights #29

noreply@blogger.com (Matthew Sanborn Smith) — Thu, 19 Jun 2008 02:36:00 +0000

This week StarShipSofa is pleased to present:

Aural Delights No 29

Main Fiction: The Last Science Fiction Writer by Allen Steele

Poetry: Time Travel Verb Tenses by Laurel Winter

Flash Fiction: Downtown by John Kessel

Fact: Science News by Jim Campanella

Narrators: Diane Severson, Grant Stone and Mark Nelson

This podcast is brought to you by Audible.com. Download a free audiobook of your choice at audiblepodcast.com/sofa

Great show this week, I just listened to it myself. Click and enjoy!

www.starshipsofa.com

Sweet 70

noreply@blogger.com (Matthew Sanborn Smith) — Thu, 19 Jun 2008 02:34:00 +0000

Story number 70 just went out: Firepower.

Herb, Accelerated

noreply@blogger.com (Matthew Sanborn Smith) — Fri, 13 Jun 2008 00:59:00 +0000

HERB, ACCELERATED
By Matthew Sanborn Smith

Herb could only count to four because he always wore mittens. The world, full of more than four things, overwhelmed him. He cried. Once, when a low flying snowball tore the mitten from his hand, the world suddenly became a more manageable place. The things that were grouped in more than seven were far less than the things that were grouped in more than four. Herb felt that his intelligence had increased by seventy-five percent. He lorded it over his friends, shunned his wife for never believing in him. Never again would he re-mitten his red, numbed hand. Of course, it never occurred to him to remove the other mitten. For even sporting seventy-five percent more brain power, he was still pretty dumb.

Today on the StarShipSofa

noreply@blogger.com (Matthew Sanborn Smith) — Thu, 12 Jun 2008 00:29:00 +0000

Hello Everyone. I've acquired a new piece of life as a promotional guy for my favorite podcast, StarShipSofa, so you'll be seeing posts from me here as new episodes come out. See here:

Today's show:
StarShipSofa, The Audio Science Fiction Magazine, presents:
Main Fiction: Secret Life by Jeff VanderMeer
Article: Fouque by Amy Sturgis
Flash Fiction: Toujours Voir by David Brin
Poetry: Confessions Of A Body Thief by Bruce Boston
Narrators: Grant Stone, Jim Campanella, Julie Davis
This podcast is brought to you by Audible.com. Download a free audiobook of your choice today at audiblepodcast.com/sofa
http://www.starshipsofa.com/podcast/Jeff_Vandermeer_Secret_Life.mp3

Interview in iProng!:
Learn about the inner workings of the StarShipSofa and her captain, reformed pyromaniac Tony C. Smith, in the June 10th issue of iProng. http://www.iprong.com/

Coming Soon:
The Sofa touches down in Paris for its first ever video transmission! An interview by Tony and Ciaran with science fiction and fantasy legend Michael Moorcock. Details to come!

The Sexiest Story Number

noreply@blogger.com (Matthew Sanborn Smith) — Mon, 02 Jun 2008 18:19:00 +0000

Story 69, The Guy Who Made Only McDonald's has been sent out into the wilderness to fend for itself. Wish it luck. In the words of Ned Flanders: "Godspeed, little doodle!"

I’m Taking My Books And Going Home

noreply@blogger.com (Matthew Sanborn Smith) — Mon, 02 Jun 2008 01:36:00 +0000

I have snapped. I have flipped. I am swan-diving into the abyss. Whyzat, Matt?

Because you guys are bringing me down.

This isn’t just about the blog comments, e-mails and forum posts of the last week. This is about the blog posts and comments, emails and forum posts, editorials and everything else from the last few years. The genre-bashing has reached felonious levels. I have read (and yes, partaken in) so much sub-genre and author clobbering that I’m starting to feel nauseous. And I can taste the blood and bile burning up my esophagus.

The field is in decline, we say, and what’s more, it’s the fault of the writers. The jargon’s too thick, the gateways aren’t there, no one is writing real Hard SF anymore, Mundane is a stupid idea, Fantasy is taking over, where’s the sensawunda, no one has any new ideas.

The Golden Age of science fiction is twelve, yes, we all know that. I’m not sure what age you haters have reached. Whatever age it is, I’d say it’s the Raw Sewage Age of science fiction. Apparently, it has all turned to shit.

Consider the towel thrown in.

Guys and Gals, I love you all and I know that not a one of our hates weighs that much. You still enjoy the field. But the accumulated crush of the pig-piled lot of our snipes has finally squashed me.

I no longer care if the Big Three mags are in decline. I no longer care if there is a dearth of gateway books for young science fiction readers or our mainstream friends. I don’t care that no one is reading and video is overtaking us and Harry Potter has doomed us all. I don’t give a shit about Hard or Soft or F vs. SF, analysis, book sales or the state of the field.

I’m taking my books and I’m going inside. I’m going to go to my room, sit on my bed, spread out the tales before me and enjoy my stuff. I’m going to savor the evocative prose of the masters and delight in their mad ideas. I still have untold Bradbury to explore. I still have Clarke that I haven’t read. I still have untouched Simmons and Lovecraft and Brin and Haldeman. Today I delved once more into the thick, art deco glories of Saint Gibson’s fantastic, psychological, anything but science fictional, “The Gernsback Continuum” and I gleefully anticipate his next novel, again likely to be rooted in the near past. There are a few Howards and Herberts I haven’t gotten to. There are rich, untapped veins of Ellison, Lem, Wilhelm and Delany! And there are countless other names I haven’t even picked up yet. Watts, Reynolds, Banks -- I salivate as I type this.

Yes, I’ve been disappointed. I’ve read crap. But I’ve also read so much good stuff and I’m looking forward to reading so much more that I’m still excited! I can’t wait to pick up the next book or mag or computer screen and dive into some past or future award winner or overlooked treasure.

You folks read fast, much faster than I, that’s a fact. You’ve already devoured everything that is good. Your crops are gone and your fields lay barren. I can’t imagine having tackled all that’s worth tackling, but you’ve done it and they don’t write ‘em like they used to. Your future is dystopian bleak.

I’m done arguing or recommending. Your time in the field has passed and I mourn your loss of summer days when ink met paper and stars were born of galactic furnaces. The full-on pressure of our years of e-bitching together has popped me. If only I had spent that time reading more stories.

Gaaa!

noreply@blogger.com (Matthew Sanborn Smith) — Sat, 31 May 2008 08:43:00 +0000

How moronic can this administration get? How dumb do they think we are?

Chertoff downplays terrorist nuclear threat
From the story:
LONDON - Homeland Security Secretary Michael Chertoff is downplaying the idea of a nuclear attack by terrorists after recent postings on al-Qaida-affiliated Web sites exhorted militants to pursue weapons of mass destruction for use against the U.S.

So if Iran and Iraq swear up and down that they're not developing WMDs and not threatening us, then we'd better attack them. But if someone actively encourages others to attack us using WMDs, then that's nothing to worry about.

Do you see the politics yet?

Let's stop allowing these government fucks to manipulate us in the incredibly stupid ways that they do. I'm not a flag waver, but it's embarrassing as a country to have lived in fear for the last seven years. The Israelis deal with terrorist attacks all the time. The English dealt with them for decades. We get one good bloody nose and we throw America away for the agenda of an administration that has done more damage to this country than any terrorist could have.

We're less safe then we were on 9/11. Nobody checks shipping containers coming into the country. Our actions have greatly increased the amount of terrorists in the world. Our government not only gave the bin Laden family a ride home on one of the only jets allowed to fly after the towers went down, but they've fixed it so that the Saudis who bankroll the terrorists are getting the money from us. The list goes on and on. And yet we haven't been attacked again.

We're going to look back on the dawning of the millennium in shame for what we allowed to happen. Now is the time to put fear behind us and to act like we're not the most mentally deficient country on the block. Let's do the right things to move forward through education, peacemaking and compassion for our fellow human beings. Let's take back our freedom and do everything we can to prevent our people from acting so humiliatingly stupid again.

June 24th!

noreply@blogger.com (Matthew Sanborn Smith) — Fri, 30 May 2008 16:21:00 +0000

Found this on i09 and SF Signal:

Futurama: The Beast With a Billion Backs. Oh, Baby!

In other news, I'm sending what will probably be story 69 out to first readers. I'll let you know when the sexiest milepost is achieved.

Anatomy Of A Lunch

noreply@blogger.com (Matthew Sanborn Smith) — Thu, 29 May 2008 19:16:00 +0000

Salad, Strawberry Pop-Tarts and Beer.

Ah, the bachelor life.

A Different Look At Guernica

noreply@blogger.com (Matthew Sanborn Smith) — Thu, 29 May 2008 09:51:00 +0000

http://www.lena-gieseke.com/guernica/movie.html

Stuck On An Escalator

noreply@blogger.com (Matthew Sanborn Smith) — Wed, 28 May 2008 02:31:00 +0000

If they can put a man on the moon . . .

Then why can't they put a man on the moon anymore?

And this:

Conan On Audio (The Cimmerian, Not The Late Night Guy)

noreply@blogger.com (Matthew Sanborn Smith) — Mon, 26 May 2008 16:52:00 +0000

I was quite pleased to discover last night that BrokenSea Audio Productions has seen fit to bring some of Robert E. Howard's Conan stories to life on audio. Free audio! Give it a go: http://brokensea.com/conan/

Howard is my favorite writer. Not on literary merit, to be sure. The reason he's number one is that he was able to make black ink combine with pulp paper in such a way that it pulses in your hands. Roll up those sleeves because the passion spills over the edges of the page. Howard wrote with fire and fury and didn't give a damn about refinement or the liberal use of adjectives.

Caveats (Now that you've already gone and clicked on the link): Howard was a racist. He was a small town Texan writing during the depression era. That he was a racist shouldn't come as too much of a shock. You'll hear that worldview spill over into some of his stories. Where it does, I don't see it as particularly vicious, but some of you may be offended.

Also, though I've downloaded them, I haven't listened to these yet myself. I tried a few seconds worth just to make sure they weren't selling timeshares instead of reading Conan stories. The bit I listened to seems to have been narrated by either Randy "Macho Man" Savage or some other wrestling/surfer dude. Whoever he is, he's into it.

I have read both of these stories. Of the two stories so far posted "Red Nails" is by far the more powerful. There's something dread and claustrophobic about the whole thing that made me put my book down a couple of times and take in deep gulps of air. It's definitely one of the darkest Conan stories I've ever experienced.

Take up your sword, gulp your own air and dive straight into the heart of Hyboria.

Movie Sexy Bloody-Nosed Rejectedness

noreply@blogger.com (Matthew Sanborn Smith) — Sun, 25 May 2008 23:23:00 +0000

Took the family to see Indiana Jones today. It was good, ridiculous, fun and enjoyment was had by all. Go see it.

Just watched The Case of Howard Phillips Lovecraft. It’s not exactly the biography that one might expect. I don’t think the word "Cthulhu" was once mentioned, for instance. It’s an odd film, short, bordering on abstract and has inspired a few scathing reviews on Netflix. I’m not sorry I saw it, but I would also like to see a more traditional documentary on the man and his work. I don’t think one exists.

I found myself aroused while watching this film, not because of anything to do with the film but because of stray thoughts that happened to occur at the same time and then I found my nose was bleeding. I thought this only happens in anime. I found it slightly amusing. Is there some reason for lust-inspired bloody noses? Do tell.

I just received what might have been the fastest rejection of my life. Story rejection, I mean. One hour and forty-three minutes. So fast it felt like a kick in the stomach. Haven’t felt that in a while. I’d blame the nose on that but the bleeding came before the rejection.

Hope you’re all doing well out there. My head is freshly shaved and I’m feeling content for a brief moment. It’ll pass. Please comment on anything you see here and subscribe so you don’t miss a moment of Matt filled goodness.

Pork and Beans

noreply@blogger.com (Matthew Sanborn Smith) — Sat, 24 May 2008 16:46:00 +0000

You should watch the new Weezer video just because it's a great song, but you may also like the references to a slew of viral videos:

For those of you who don't sit and stare at youtube for seventeen hours a day, here's a little page from Valleywag that points out the videos within the video:
http://valleywag.com/392972/weezer-undestands-how-to-work-youtube

Hulk Write Own Game Review

noreply@blogger.com (Matthew Sanborn Smith) — Fri, 23 May 2008 17:51:00 +0000

Hulk take in Broadway musical to calm nerves:

http://www.gamespot.com/xbox360/action/theincrediblehulk/news.html?sid=6191122&mode=recent

Vermit

noreply@blogger.com (Matthew Sanborn Smith) — Fri, 23 May 2008 17:31:00 +0000

Warning: Rated G for Gross

VERMIT
By Matthew Sanborn Smith

“It’s called vermit,” Danny offered, “Not vomit. When you throw up a bunch of frogs like that, I mean.”

I didn’t care what it was called. I just wanted to get this taste out of my mouth. I blew my nose again, so hard I thought I’d have a stroke right there on the salesroom room floor. It didn’t do any good. I still felt one of them wriggling around in my sinuses.

“Those are pollywogs,” Carol said, pointing the toe of her shoe at my puke.

“Still vermit,” Danny said. “You been eatin’ tadpoles, Marcus?”

“It’s the curse,” I said. I shuddered. My nose burned and dripped with . . . Snot? Bile?

The salesman edged ever closer. Royal blue shirt and stars and stripes tie. Still figuring out how to deal with us and my mess.

I waved him closer. “C’mon over. Watch your step. I apologize. I’ll be happy to clean it up. I don’t s’pose you guys sell wet vacs?”

“No sir.”

“It’s my wife,” I said, which made him look at Carol. “No. That’s not a wife, that’s Carol.” Carol kneed me, almost sending me face first into my own biological spill. I regained my balance but not without putting my right boot into it. The little squiggles had stopped swimming around in there, at least. “Wife’s some kinda Super-Wiccan or something, I don’t know. Cursed me this morning.”

This he understood. He had those tired, baggy eyes that explained him. “Going through a divorce?”

“Man, I wish. Nah, I just forgot to put my clothes in the machine last night.”

He nodded. “Say no more. I’ll get paper towels and a garbage bag.”

Clem Crowder's Catch

noreply@blogger.com (Matthew Sanborn Smith) — Thu, 22 May 2008 17:19:00 +0000

If you guys have a little time on your hands I urge you to read Clem Crowder's Catch. It's up for just this month at Fantasy and Science Fiction's website. I read it five years ago when it first appeared in the print version of the magazine and let me tell you folks, it will easily stay with you for five years and probably beyond. It's funny, fucked up, and wonderfully disgusting. Please check it out:

http://www.sfsite.com/fsf/fiction/reprint01.htm

How The Republicans Are Keeping Us Safe

noreply@blogger.com (Matthew Sanborn Smith) — Thu, 22 May 2008 00:44:00 +0000

Here are two consecutive articles posted on BoingBoing today that illustrate how our leaders are protecting us from terrorists. Make what you will of them:

Van driven onto Sea-Tac runway. Nobody notices, cares. http://www.boingboing.net/2008/05/21/van-driven-onto-seat.html

FBI looking for vegan potluck terrorists http://www.boingboing.net/2008/05/21/fbi-looking-for-vega.html

My August 19th

noreply@blogger.com (Matthew Sanborn Smith) — Wed, 21 May 2008 17:27:00 +0000

John Scalzi ran himself a contest on his heavily-trafficked blog, Whatever, last week. In it, he asked his adherents to describe the events of August 19, 1994. To make it short, I didn't win. To make it longer, here's my entry:

It was a bright night, August 19, 1994. Two moons worth of bright, owing to that same mirror in the sky that made Gemini spring into quadruplets. My son was just eighteen months old and I remember holding his tubby body up close to my face while we waved upward. We couldn’t see ourselves up there but we greeted us just the same. The whole neighborhood had spilled all over the street, impromptu barbecues and cheap fireworks going up all around us. We’d gotten the Independence Day we’d missed a month and a half before because the damned city said wildfire risks were too high with the drought.

It was a night of miracles. Every fifth dog burst into life-affirming green flames. Through the neighbor’s window we saw Clinton’s speech for the fifth time that day. Behind dusty slats he declared that our war with Uzbekistan was over and tomorrow was to be a spaghetti holiday. Hell, at that point I didn’t care that he was in bed with Big Semolina. The draft notices we’d just received that day for my only boy and his unconceived sister were now null and void.

Although the celebrations went on for many hours all over the world, the night ended for us when creepy Tommy Marcella whacked the kids’ piñata, a rainbow colored pony, with his aluminum baseball bat. Stronger than that bat was the half-hour of frustration behind it. Seventeen-kids-and-one-yellow-broomstick-,-brown-where-the-paint-had-chipped-off-the-end’s worth of frustration. Eight and half sugar-jonesing child-hours of frustration and the power of one hormone-squirting, shadow-mustached man-child fell behind that silver and black Louisville Slugger.

The rainbow pony burst. And where candy was expected, intestines poured out onto the cracked grey pavement. The clot of pre-adolescent bodies shattered into its constituent screaming parts, littering the bloody scene with dozens of hyphens in their wakes.

John Butts suggested we make sausage. We laughed a little but the party had gone out of us at that point. But for an occasional shout or crackle of salutes in the distance, the quiet had descended upon us. There were a few lingerers who didn’t know until it grew uncomfortable that good times ever ended. The rest sought their beds, only now realizing that there was work the next day, spaghetti be damned. My joy was mellowed but persistent. In the warm glow of Mrs. Demers’ Scottish Terrier, Poopie, I kissed my wife. I even kissed her husband (closed mouth for Barry, though).

Everything since then has seemed so ordinary in comparison.

Take A Seat On The Sofa

noreply@blogger.com (Matthew Sanborn Smith) — Tue, 20 May 2008 20:50:00 +0000

Check out the John Scalzi episode of StarShipSofa podcast, just posted today. On it, Tony reads my review of the Android's Dream. www.starshipsofa.com

Take Flight

noreply@blogger.com (Matthew Sanborn Smith) — Tue, 20 May 2008 17:41:00 +0000

This bit from episode eight of Flight of the Conchords is the sole reason my son took French this year:

Did I Say Sunshine? I Meant Stinkshine

noreply@blogger.com (Matthew Sanborn Smith) — Mon, 19 May 2008 17:26:00 +0000

Okay, it wasn't that bad, but it wasn't good. Sunshine was a beautiful movie to look at. In fact I would much rather have seen it in a theater, but it was in and out of the local palaces too quickly for my retail-scheduled ass. There were too many stupid things going on in this film, too many stupid people and some questionable engineering. Add this to the pile of might-have-beens, on top of Supernova (But I still love you, Angela Bassett!), Event Horizon, Mission to Mars and countless others. Even if it had been on my shoulders it would not have made me happy.