Sunday, October 08, 2006

 

The End of the Week

Whew. What a week, properly accompanied by an inordinate amount of running around, chaos, heartbreak, and hopes.

Before we close out Buy a Friend a Book Week, let me say the following things...

1. I had a blast reading all of your entries and the things you had to say about music. I hope you'll invite your friends over here to hang with us and get to know my fictional crew. Not just because it'll sell more books when Trevor's Song comes out, but because I do this -- write books, blog, create fiction non-stop -- so that I can share it with people. While I dream of a huge publishing deal, I think I'd be happy with anything that would allow me to share my world with you.

2. I've made friends with some of the other BAFAB contest hosts. Be sure to check them out; I'll leave the links up at the bottom of this page for a bit. Tell them you proudly come from West of Mars.

3. Even though my friend Penina never sent an official entry, she's done so much for me over the years, in so many ways, that I picked up a second copy of This Monster Lives just for her. So while she's not an official winner and I can't tell you how I will never forget her story of trying really hard not to yell the now-defunct and perhaps forgotten refrain of "Die, Die, Die" during Metallica's Creeping Death during her VERY observant Passover seder, I bought her a book, anyway.

And when you get down to it, that's the spirit of BAFAB week.

We'll do it again in a few months. In the meantime, stay tuned. I have planned a fun fall outtake from the newly introduced Chelle LaFleur for your reading pleasure. Once I get back from the post office, expect to see it...

Once again, thanks for making my first BAFAB contest so successful. You guys are important around here.

Remember that, now.

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Comments:
I'm sorry I never got to do a story. I'm glad that you did have a decent amount of entries for your contest. When you do another maybe I will be more with it to do one. I love you babe. You're a good friend.
 
Hey, sometimes the stars don't align the way we want them to. You'll just have to save up your stories for next time!!!

There WILL be a next time, have no fear. I may be disappearing from other places, and this one's look may be changing a bit, but I'll be here awhile yet.

You're an IMPORTANT friend. Remember that. Don't let people take advantage of you. *wink*
 
Woman!
You are as usual nuts and fantastic, all rolled into one, a perfect combination in my book.

So for those that never heard the story:

I was born into a quite Orthodox Jewish family, and was estranged for many years. Of course, after the twins were born, suddenly I was off the persona-non-grata list, and that was how I found myself sitting at the 'rents large dining room table, covered in ironed white damask, laiden with freshly polished silver, listening for the nth time in my life the long, Hebrew language version of the Seder service which details the enslavement and liberation of the Jews in ancient Egypt. Of course it begins with a nice glass of wine (or two), which may explain why this happened....

At a certain point in the service, the 10 plagues are discussed, then as they are listed, you dip your finger in wine and drip some in memory of each plague... only I was sitting there, with an ear-whig of Metallica's "Creeping Death" going round and round my head, my feet itching to move, and only with a super-human effort did I not start headbanging at the table.... It was torture I tell ya, pure TORTURE not to 'bang along to the incessantly loud song in my head, Jason screaming "DIE! DIE! DIE!"

Metallica - "Ride the Lightning" 1984
Creeping Death


Slaves
Hebrews born to serve, to the pharaoh
Heed
To his every word, live in fear
Faith
Of the unknown one, the deliverer
Wait
Something must be done, four hundred years


So let it be written
So let it be done
I'm sent here by the chosen one
So let it be written
So let it be done
To kill the first born pharaoh son
I'm creeping death


Now
Let my people go, land of goshen
Go
I will be with thee, bush of fire
Blood
Running red and strong, down the nil
Plague
Darkness three days long, hail to fire


So let it be written
So let it be done
I'm sent here by the chosen one
So let it be written
So let it be done
To kill the first born pharaoh son
I'm creeping death


Die by my hand
I creep across the land
Killing first born man
Die by my hand
I creep across the land
Killing first born man


I
Rule the midnight air the destroyer
Born
I shall soon be there, deadly mass
I
Creep the steps and flood final darkness
Blood
Lambs blood painted door, I shall pass


So let it be written
So let it be done
I'm sent here by the chosen one
So let it be written
So let it be done
To kill the first born pharaoh son
I'm creeping death

 
Of course I'm nuts and fantastic. It's the only way I can stay sane! :D

Thanks for reprinting the story -- and lyrics. Man, James can be hard to understand sometimes!
 
You KNOW I give you permission to use the concept in one of you books... just want some signed copies!
 
I can do that. In fact, I have a character in mind who rebells against her ultra-Orthodox upbringing, so stay tuned for that; I know we've talked about her before.

As for signed copies, you buy and I'll sign, okay? As many as you want; the more, the merrier! :D
 
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