Outside of life in general, I have been a busy girl, trying to get my novel workable for some semblance of eventual publication. What I have right now is pretty solid, with a couple of hurried rough patches that I have decide to fix with a sincere edit, rather than gloss over in a rush to the finishline.
Now, before you ask (and if you have not asked already), it's trash. Total, absolute trash. Like if Poppy Z. Brite's old fiction met with Chuck Palahniuk in a dark alley and spawned monstrous babies...that is my kind of work. So if you're the kind of person that enjoys freak shows, kinky sex, and cannibalism - then you totally have my permission to read it. Otherwise, you may want to avoid it (and possibly me).
That said, Facebook is a wonderful utility, but does shit for polls and really much of anything outside of talking out your ass and playing spam games. Therefore, I will be posting things of a more complex nature over here and linking from the FB, while trying to generate more interest in the FB community. So if you want to support my work, spread the word and add the Les Fleurs du Mal group on FB. You can find me at:
"What has been the fate of the first lay of Maldoror since his mouth, filled with the leaves of nightshade, gave utterence to it in a moment of meditation and released it throughout the kingdoms of wrath? what has become of that lay? We do not know precisely. Neither the trees nor the wind have preserved it. And Morality, who happened to be passing by, ignorant of the fact that in its glowing pages she would find an energetic defender, saw it wending its way with a firm and direct tread toward the obscure fastness and secret fibres of human consciousness. Science has at least acquired something from it: since its materialization, toad faced man no longer recognizes himself and is continually lashing himself into fits of bestial rage. it is not his fault. From the dawn of time he had modestly believed that he was filled with goodness mingled with only a minute quantity of evil. By dragging out his heart and his life thread into day I taught him the rude lesson that, on the contrary, he is made of evil mingled with a minute quantity of goodness which the lawmakes have been hard put to conserve it. I hope my bitter truths may not overcome him with everlasting shame, for nothing that I teach him is new."
~ from Lay of Moldoror, Conte de Lautreamont