The london eye

Gay Degani’s flash, The London Eye, is the featured story today at Every Day Fiction and it is a perfect example of flash fiction.

It is a horror story of the best type; no unkillable murderers, no boogeymen, no zombies or vampires. Just a man being driven insane by the monstrous guilt he carries within his mind.

Check it out here. It’s special.

Watch for this

Have you been watching The United States of Tara?

I don't watch much television, don't often recommend programs, but if you have access to Showtime, and you're not watching this show, you are missing something dark and delicious.

Toni Collette stars as Tara Gregson, wife of Max, mother of Kate and Marshall and a gifted painter of murals. She also shares her body with Alice, T and Buck.

Tara suffers from dissociative identity disorder (DID), a mental condition in which a single person displays multiple distinct personalities, known as alters. It used to be called multiple personality disorder.

Something happened to Tara when she was a teen-ager, something awful, and the presence of the alters is in response to that event. Tara can't remember what it was, and no one else, not even her parents, seem to know what occurred.

There's a lot of controversy about whether or not the condition is real, but that's not the point of the show. Rather, it is a tour de force for Collette.

She is best known for her roles in the films, Muriel's Wedding and The Sixth Sense (she was the mother of the kid who saw dead people), and she shines in this role. Each of the four personalities are distinct characterizations; even her face looks different. Not just differently made up; different.

Alice is my favorite. She is the perfect housewife, always dressed and coifed just so, able to keep an ordered house and whip up multi-layer cakes for school bake sales.

But there is a layer of evil to Alice that shows itself now and then and it is chilling. Imagine June Cleaver with raging PMS. Or Carol Brady with a butcher knife and a real mad on. It is so much fun to watch Alice smile as she slashed those who oppose her into ribbons with her sharp tongue.

John Corbett (remember Chris on Northern Exposure?) is fantastic, too, as Max. The man has his faults but he has made a commitment to Tara that is poured in concrete. Max tolerates Alice and T but is not above a bit of male bonding with Buck, Tara's male alter.

Buck: I would have nailed her if my dick hadn't been shoot off in Nam.

Max: Buck, you were never in Viet Nam.

The supporting cast is strong, as well. Episode six, last week, featured Fred Ward and Pamela Reed as Tara's father and mother. Watching these two chip away at Tara's edges made it easy to understand why the poor lady has problems.

The United States of Tara is an antidote for those of us who watched Leave It to Beaver or The Brady Bunch and felt cheated because our families weren't like that.

United States of Tara. Sunday nights on Showtime. Watch for it.

At every day poets

My poem, Late Night Considerations, is the featured piece at Every Day Poets today.

It’s my fourth appearance and it has to do with a subject near to my heart and mind.

LNC considers ghoulies and ghosties and long-legged beasties and things that go bump in the night. And don’t tell me you’ve never lay in bed at night, wide awake, heart skiddering, thinking, “What is that noise in the closet?”

If you would like to check it out, it’s here.

At every day fiction

My flash, Sidney, Down Under, is the featured story at Every Day Fiction today.

It’s a tale of cats and cash and murder, and has nothing to do with Australia (the title, don’t you see?) and everything to do with positioning.

Check it out, if you get a chance.

Dumb as a rock

The cat attacked the television this morning.

The cat's name is Sam. He's part of a set; Sally and Sammy, sister and brother from the same litter, Miss Chatterbox and Doofus.

They are eight years old. We call her Miss Chatterbox because she back-talks to us all the time. If the litter box is not clean enough for her, she complains. If food is not forthcoming, she complains. If she hasn't been scratched long enough, she complains. She will sit before us and meow in aggrieved tones.

And she is smart. We had to put lockable latches on the cabinet where the cat food is stored because she figured out how to open it.

Her brother, however, is dumb as a rock and that is why he attacked the television.

We bought the new set at Christmas; a 42-inch, 1080i high-definition flat screen. I was happy with the 24-inch set we had, but Rachael wanted the bigger, sharper model for gaming.

"Wait until you see how clear the picture is," she said. "It's like you're looking through an open window."

I was writing this morning and had the television tuned to Sunrise Earth. They were showing scenes from a South American rain forest. The twitter of birds began and Sam went crazy.

In an instant, he was up on the table's edge before the set, yowling and doing his best to reach through the screen with one paw and bat the birdie he was certain was only inches away.

I yelled; he didn't stop.

And then the image blinked to an extreme close-up of a soldier ant. The ant appeared to be larger than Sam and was head right at him. Sam stopped swatting, arched away from the screen and toppled from his perch. He hid on the stairs, peeking over the top lip and hissing, until I turned to another channel.

I guess Rachael is right.

Greetings from the motherland

When you are as large as I am (six feet, two inches and well over two hundred pounds) you get used to folks looking.

There are days, though, that I feel like a normal-sized person, living in a land overrun by little people.

I know there are other women out there who are my size; the clothing manufacturers don't make all those blouses and slacks and sweaters just for me. But I don't often see those other women.

I saw one yesterday.

She strolled toward me from around a corner in downtown Seattle; taller than me by a couple of inches but not carrying the weight I do. Not carrying my sixty-two years, either. Even so, she had some heft to her.

She was wearing a police uniform. That didn't surprise me; a lot of large women are drawn to law enforcement. I learned that while working as a corrections officer in Florida.

I caught her eye as we passed. If I had had a sword, I would have rattled it upon my shield in greeting. Instead, I smiled and dipped my chin. She cocked one eyebrow and returned the smile.

Two Amazons, in passing; silently saying, "I see you."

It's about the small things

What a glorious day yesterday was; the sort that makes me glad we moved to Seattle.

No wind, clear skies, lots of sunshine and mid-afternoon temperatures in the mid fifties. What more could someone who enjoys four seasons ask for in a winter day?

It was Rachael's "Sunday", too, so we stopped by Easy Street for breakfast. Easy Street is a local landmark, often billed as the best little record store, coffee bar and diner in West Seattle. They also have a small performance space and Eddie Vedder still drops by, now and then, when he's in town.

We stop in a couple three times a month because the food is tasty and plentiful, the wait staff is attentive and friendly and people at other tables join in your conversations. The visit yesterday was no exception.

At home, we settled in to watch Tomb of the Dragon Emperor, the third entry in The Mummy series. It doesn't hold a candle to the first one. The actors were trying too hard, even Brenden Fraser, whom I usually enjoy. But it was fun; particularly when served up with a nice bottle of white wine we got at Christmas.

I sneaked in a nap after the movie, and just before three p.m. we went for a walk, down by the Fauntleroy ferry landing, on to Lincoln Park, then up the hill, nattering on about houses that we liked.

And what a grand view of the Olympics from my bench above the ferry landing! Picture postcard perfect.

Home again, we grilled fish for supper, decided it was too warm to throw a log in the fireplace, and then I wrote for a couple of hours while Rachael fiddled with a video game. Bedtime came early, just like darkness does this time of year.

Another day in the life, don't you know. Not very excited business, but it's the little things that make a difference, isn't it?