NAD TO THE BONE!

Today is, first and foremost, 

ALL-SAINTS DAY

but wouldn't you know that, 

in some preditor's war room, somewhere, 

somewhen, there came a day when 

they had the most brilliant idea... 

(It must have been a pub-leecher's idea - 

but we digress here...) 

And that idea was to make that 

holiest -on a human level- of days 

coincide with... 

A SPECIAL DAY IN HONOR 

OF THEIR PUBLISHED 

(or, quite simply, pet) 

AUTHORS! 

AND SO WAS BORN 

NATIONAL

AUTHORS' DAY!

 Yay...! 

Of course, every author who has ever... 

well, authored... has got the sacrosanct right 

to be read... at the very least! 

(And that is when they are either critiqued 

-mercilessly- 

or appraised, lauded, elevated, 

praised and even revered 

- becoming like unto gods of literature, for some. 

Now this latter bunch is often thought of as 

the sheepish readership - but let us not 

get into that sordid aspect right now. 

Suffice it to overstate: there are writers 

and there are readers - both need to be.  

It is like in many other artistic ventures, though: 

one man's (or woman's) treasure is another's 

garbage... or vice-versa! 

The exact same line 

-dialogue or descriptive narrative- 

can be dissected both ways, in a positive light 

or a less-than-tolerant manner; 

depending on a myriad things! 

And those things range from 

the critic's mood to the zeitgeist of the day 

(the spirit of the times - yes... sigh) 

to the pub-leecher's pocketbook... 

And yet... And yet... 

Anyone who commits to unveil 

but an iota of his or her innermost self 

in writ - for the world to peruse... 

at any time, in any place... 

be it in a tell-all, a blog, a blurb, 

or a time-honored piece of fiction... 

electronically or traditionally - 

deserves to be given a shot. 

He or she deserves to be considered, also, 

*an author*

YES! 

Whether that still goes for those that 

simply give free reign to their folly - 

"committing to paper" 

(e-books are coming) 

(coming on HARD!) 

every little crazy idea they've ever had 

(every HUGE maddening thought 

that has ever crossed their mind, TOO!) 

and passing that off as ART...? 

Whether that still goes for those 

swindlers and filibusters 

that plunder the classics of yesteryear 

as they do myths and lore 

for their premises, ideas and concepts 

that are then bastardized, sullied and 

run through the modern mud...?!? 

And whether that still goes for 

the frauds, the hacks, the skanks that 

permeate the upper echelons 

EVERYWHERE in this world...??? 

Well... What do you think? 

... rrrrright. 

"Magic"... huh? 

You mean like... Harry The Potter? 

Lestat (abandoned by Anne Rice - by God's Grace!) 

Or any number of delusional scribblings 

from this crazy Brit here: 

A master scrawler, rarely matched in sheer productivity - 

his rehashing (and retooling) of several myths and legends  

have captured many minions' imaginations... 

Poor sad souls - devoid of their own 

power to imagine - and see the unseen! 

So much so that they have got to rely 

on a scavenger of make-believe 

that further blurs the line between 

myth and actual fantastic legend... 

Vivement Le Brex-Lit...! 

The GaiMan's fellow Brit (a tragic Brit we ache for; her, not him!) 

actually exposed him decades before his birth! 

For if we truly are to judge his life, mind and SOUL 

from the blasphemous, heretic, outright satanic material he has produced 

over a number of years now, first in comic-bookies then in sad excuses 

for modern literature - there can be little doubt here.  

Tolstoy was another kind soul that tended to 

idealize and edify the collective contribution 

of all quills and fountain pens that ever were... 

What a wealth of wisdom

and kindness is expressively scattered

in the books of all peoples and times

- (L.N. Tolstoy)

Now, Alice -at least- is far more honest 

about the whole operation...! 

Charles... was brutally honest, too. 

Up to a point: 

he admits madness 

but then succumbs to the vanity of it all 

by pretending to hold some form of 

exclusivity... on the soul world. 

And Max... aw, Max... 

He showers himself and his craft 

with the greatest attributes of all: 

value, worthiness, nobility -  HOLINESS! 

All the while shunning but one thing -  

earthly, ephemeral glitz, in essence! 

Yet that is what he basks in the most!!! 

Lucado... is no Luminoso. 

We would rather turn to an Henry Miller, instead: 

at least, with him, it is strictly about 

the writing experience - 

everyday life, the struggle, 

the pain, frustration and sheer agony 

that comes with this vocation - and it all 

culminated with this right here: 

a borderline blasphemous wordsmith version 

of the ten commandments - with eleven of them! 

And we all routinely bypass the very first one...

About that eleventh one: 

it boggles the mind Henry restrained himself 

and did not add all those other activities 

he routinely indulged in, in excess: 

you know what we're thinking of here... 

His wife June. Booze. Anais Nin. More booze. 

Smokes. And even more booze! 

He had provisioned for it with number 7, 

of course - making this indeed ten, 

not eleven commandments at all! 

And all the more blasphemous! 

Very well then, Barbara: 

let us catch another glimpse 

-a mere infinitesimal glimpse- 

of what that humanity is up to, 

in writ and in real, these days...

There it is, folks: 

pretty much (but not pretty at all) 

the entire bodacious body of work 

of the self-proclaimed literati "K-FLEX" here; 

she who did not hesitate to call these titles 

"classic books" that "all should get" 

on this auspicious day, 

National Authors' Day! 

NAD... I say! 

Another author who followed the age-old wisdom 

that dictates that each author should stick to 

one simple thing: "write what he knows"...  

Crusoe Dachshund is, at least, a NY Times best-selling writer 

- unlike Tariq Nasheed there... 

CD's success could be attributed to a variety 

of factors, though - none having any true literary merit. 

Vanda Denton 

is an author, true-and-true; 

and here she exemplifies perfectly well 

what a solitary journey, through and through, 

(even after publication...) the writer's life 

can and surely is meant to be... 

Others - such as David Walliams, represented here 

by an assortment of his odd-looking characters - 

will benefit from exposure, support, 

extraordinary back-up coming from 

not only pub-leechers but their cronies also - 

the pub-peddlers and other swindlers 

(can be Coles, might be Barnes & Noble too; 

Chapters... Powell's of Portlandia... Strand... 

Libreria Acqua Alta di Venice... etc!)

and, emboldened by this unwavering support, 

 they will, quite simply... 

saturate the market. 

Great going, scribes - 

pretending to give encouragement 

after that to all the neophyte 

and fledgling wordsmiths 

that are coming out of the woodwork 

will only seem like... 

patronizing hypocrisy 

- perhaps condescending too! 

No one - absolutely NO ONE - will ever be as sincere 

kind and genuine as RAY: 

you are sorely missed, Mr. Bradbury! 

You truly cared for your readers, the world at large 

and the eventual few that would follow in your footsteps. 

Science-fiction writers tend to be like that: 

they write material that warns about impending doom, 

foretelling of humanity's many mistakes, 

trying to prevent them - after all, it's a public service. 

They didn't listen much to H.G. Wells and Jules Verne, 

but more and more are heeding the words of Ray Bradbury. 

*Everybody loves Ray*

We all hope so, Diane...

For the occasion (need we remind you: 

it's NATIONAL AUTHORS' DAY - duh!) 

Westminster Abbey shared, via their Twitter, 

this shot of the memorial 

they dedicated to Mary Ann; 

not Gilligan's Mary Ann but *the* Mary Ann 

EVANS  a.k.a. "George Eliot" 

she who took the name of a man 

in order to author what is considered 

by some, as the finest literature 

in the 19th Century... 

And she did so in a time when it was 

truly necessary to do so; 

unlike JKR and her "Robert Whatsisname" 

that were, basically, but a vanity project... 

again. 

Think that's mean? 

Think again! And again and again! 

THIS is mean: 

excerpt from Creative Mischief by Dave Trott 

Somebody on Twitter found nothing better 

than THAT (above) to share 

on this "Authors' Day"... hurray, eh? 

Meanwhile, noted pub-leechers 

seized the opportunity 

(much like "K-FLEX" earlier...) 

to blow their own horn 

and flaunt their stable 

of under-contract scribes...

One example: 

HAYMARKET BOOKS.

Wow - only 3 guys... and six women! 

Seventh is up for debate... 

But anyway! 

WOW! 

How is that for turning the table on the male-dominated 

age-old tendencies... HUH? 

The publishing house's name, however, 

still makes us think of THIS: 

Nice - but not quite prestigious, hmm? 

Condé Nast Traveler 

palliates to that, no worry: 

it suggested that every single 

bookworm, book lover 

and author groupie 

follow their passion to the extreme - 

no, not by stalking the author 

but rather by visiting 

several luxurious libraries 

all over the world...! 

I don't know, folks... 

None of those places will ever match 

the power of true imagination; 

luminous imagination! 

No book ever published, already there 

collecting dust in those shelves 

will ever satiate your thirst, in truth... 

It is not that I advise against reading 

or condone any anti-book rhetoric - no! 

The best way to sell you on this 

is by showing you an example of it: 

unbound but luminous imagination, 

the kind that does not pervert ideals or ideas. 

The type of thing that inspired 

this artwork, by Yerka: 

imagining a luminous place 

the ultimate public library...  

And yes, of course - 

even the worst of books 

will open up worlds of wonder 

for its readers... 

The only question left to ponder then 

is whether any of those worlds, 

portals, doorways, dimensions 

were truly worth exploring 

in the first place...? 

And what have you neglected 

in the real world 

while indulging away 

in the one some wordsmith 

you do not even know 

fabricated for his or her own 

profit... glory... vain aspirations?

Hmm?