Apologies to Nietzche

I made it through 'Birth of a Tragedy.' I learned that Nietzche took 114 pages to explain the Ancient Greek grunge scene. It wasn't easy, but I'm glad I did.

Now I'm reading Seventy-five Aphorisms, and guess what? He really is a genius, and I'm feeling pretty sheepish.

Here's some of what I've learned:

Reader's Bad Manners--A reader is doubly guilty of bad manners against the author when he praises his second book at the expense of the first(or vice versa) and then asks the author to be grateful for that.

The Worst Readers--The worst readers are those who proceed like plundering soldiers: they pick up a few things they can use, soil and confuse the rest, and blaspheme the rest.

The Sharpest Criticism--One criticizes a person, a book, most sharply when one pictures their ideal.

Ouch. I guess I deserved that. He's right, though. It was rude of me to judge him on what was his first work. Especially since I'm probably going to be a victim of my own line of thinking.

I take back what I said last post and will finish reading the basic writings of Nietzche with an open mind. Having said that, I end this post with my current favorite quote from Germany's beloved philosopher.

Opinions and Fish--Possessing opinions is like possessing fish, assuming one has a fish pond. One has to go fishing and needs some luck--then one has one's own fish, one's own opinions. I am speaking of live opinion's, of live fish. Others are satisfied if they own a cabinet of fossils--and in their heads, "convictions".

Nietzche Drives Me Nuts

I dislike Nietzche. Not because he's a pompous misogynistic, anti-Semite. No. I dislike him because he makes me feel like an uneducated yutz. I'm so frustrated! How am I supposed to learn anything from this guy if I can't understand what he's trying to say?

Here's an example, taken from The Birth of Tragedy: "One need only to reflect more deeply on the linguistic difference with regard to color, syntactical structure, and vocabulary in Homer and Pindar, in order to understand the significance of this contrast; indeed, it becomes palpably clear that in the period between Homer and Pindar the orgiastic flute tones of Olympus must have been sounded, which, even in Aristotle's time, when music was infinitely more developed, transported people to drunken ecstasy, and which, in their primitive state of development, undoubtedly incited to imitation all the poetic means of expression of contemporaneous man."

To which I reply..."Huh?"

As a writer I can't really wrap my head around works so badly in need of an editor. Wordy much? Grammar would be nice. Notice that it's one long sentence? I have to read stuff like this several times before I get the jist of his babbling.

I'm starting to think;

a) He was making a concerted effort to be as academic and snooty as possible. He had a lot of critics, and maybe this was his way of saying, "I can use bigger words and sentences than you. Can you hear me now?"

b)Or these are the rantings of a complete lunatic. After all, he did die a demented recluse.

I hear all the time what a genius he was. I think the emperor has no clothes. Do people applaud his musings because to admit he confuses them means they feel as stupid as I do? Can someone enlighten me?

Yowls Well that Ends Well.

Ernest Hemingway collected cats. According to him, one cat leads to another.
Like tattoos and other forms of pain. How did he get anything writing done with all that caterwauling? That would be like me trying to write while listening to Megadeth.

The cutie in the photo is Sully. He is the latest edition (we hope) to our family, and the current reason for my exhaustion. Funny how alert one becomes when awakened from a deep sleep by low growls outside the bedroom door.

Being a relatively new pet owner, I was unprepared for the hissing, biting, screaming and territorial posturing involved. The cats were bad too. I think Freya secretly watches Bruce Lee movies.

But it's Day Four and I see a light at the end of the tunnel. They spend a lot of time close to one another without any freak outs. But I don't think I'm supposed to know that. It's like they deliberately howl in unison the minute I walk in the room-just to milk it a little. Because aggravating the human is fun.

You know what I've learned? That my cat Freya is a domineering, loud, little bitch that doesn't care if you're bigger than her. It's HER way or NO WAY.

I wonder where she got that from?

By any other name...

As my Summer release date approaches and encouragement and congratulations roll in, something occurs to me. And I know I won't get any more work done until I address it.

I frequently find myself in the awkward position of telling publishers, friends, readers and fellow bloggers they are pronouncing and/or spelling 'Thoeba' incorrectly.

It 'o' before 'e', not the other way around. And it's not pronounced 'Theeba' like Phoebe from 'Friends'. Nope. It's pronounced with an 'oh'. As in 'toe' with a 'th' sound in front of it. Thoh-bah.

Sorry.

You'd think that someone who wants to establish a long career in writing would name their first novel something a little more memorable and user friendly. Yeah, that would have been the smart thing to do. Again...sorry.


Why did I do it? I blame my sub-conscious mind.

When I was fourteen years old, I had a bad dream. I was a naked angel hiding in a garden. I crouched behind the hydrangeas clutching a crystal, knowing I had to protect it at all costs. A man and his children tried to coax me out, but I saw demons circling overheard and knew they were searching for me. These idiots were going to give me away!

They appealed to me, patting their chests and saying their names. I tried to respond, but the only thing I could say was, "Thoh-bah! Thoeba!" And it's been that way ever since, even the weird spelling.

So now you know. I could never bring myself to change it. At least I have the knowledge that the book title and my character's name will remain unique. Nobody else will be dumb enough to copy my example. ;)

A week and a day late.

Yes, I know. Thoeba and I didn't post last week. Or yesterday. Truth is, after almost two and a half years, I felt like I had nothing interesting to say. It's hard to come up with discoveries that would be new for Thoeba after all this time. She was getting as bored as the rest of us. Oh, and did I mention I was really busy?

So it gives me great pleasure to unveil the new cover for Thoeba. Isn't it awesome?

For those of you who know me, or read this blog, you'll remember that I lost my publishing contract. My previous publisher was great about it, taking the time to introduce me to another. Lucky for me, Heather Savage at Staccato Publishing read 'Thoeba' and signed me up.

Needless to say, I'm ecstatic. Things are looking up again. We're hoping for a spring release and I'm currently doing new drafts for my second novel 'Aphrodite's War'. Soon I'll work on the outline for a third novel with the working title 'Chasing Monsters'. And there's the sci-fi erotica. (I'll be using a pseudonym for that one.)And my work with Edmonton Paranormal is gearing up nicely. Yes, I'm kind of swamped, but it's a great place to be.

Thoeba and I are back, and looking forward to the future. We'll see you there.

I like sl-zzzzzzzz...

This post is so very late. Because I slept very late. Thanks to a human condition known as insomnia. Things were much simpler in Eden. We were never too cold to sleep and we had so few worries to keep us awake.
Now here I sit in the dead of winter dreading drafts and fussing over work and its making me tired and weird. Some things are excessively funny at 2 a.m. on the internet.
http://images.icanhascheezburger.com/completestore/2008/8/26/dudexanax128642391274241200.jpg
And I could have done without dreaming about the naked German guy.


Photo by:smokedsalmon@FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Gimme a Pee!

This is new...and not in a good way.
It's called getting a 'physical' And I'm afraid I'd rather not!
I know, I know. Mankind has come a long way from the medicine men of old. I understand no one's going to chant at me and shake bones in my face.
But no one told me they were going to steal my blood with a sharp instrument. Or make me urinate in a cup.
I didn't see any lizard skins or rattles, but I'm not sure...eight years of school, you say? To collect bodily fluids? Your ancestors had it easy.
So what do they do with the stuff? Divine your future?


Photo by :jscreationzs at FreeDigitalPhotos.net