Primal With A Side Of FABULOUS page 11

[LitheGrokkette]

Wanted: a fabulous fantasy novel recommendation to ameliorate severe academic doldrums.

Gay Panda, when your time machine is complete please assist.

[ottercat]

I'm published, but the book became inaccessible due to the publisher going bankrupt right after it was released.

I don't know how the copyright stuff works, but are you going to re-publish?? I have a cousin-in-law who is an editor at an indie joint and I might be able to hook you up.

[Gay Panda]

Wanted: a fabulous fantasy novel recommendation to ameliorate severe academic doldrums.

When I'm writing a book, I tend to read much more nonfiction than fiction. The last four years of my life were engulfed by a series that was wonderfully fun to work on, but meant I rarely read anything that wasn't directly related to research for it. I do recommend Sheri S. Tepper's The True Game. While I haven't cared for some of her books, that one blew me away. When she hits the right note, she HITS it. Perfect distraction from doldrums!

[Gay Panda]

I don't know how the copyright stuff works, but are you going to re-publish?? I have a cousin-in-law who is an editor at an indie joint and I might be able to hook you up.

I honestly don't know who holds the rights now, as the publisher went bankrupt and cut off communication with its authors. So I'm unlikely to republish that book, but in a way, it's all right. I've been so involved with the series since then, which is going through its final edits where I bang my hammer about in untidy chapters and find that YET AGAIN, in my 12th or 13th book or whatever I'm on now, I have managed to misspell murmured. What sort of books does the indie joint handle? Most of what I write is young adult magical realism.

[Gay Panda]

take some enjoyment on the fact that you've helped me with my crazies in guatemala.

You have crazies too?!?! NOOOOOOOOO!!!!!

[KatyNC]

I have no crazies, just devil dog.

Devil dog is a rare breed of attack mongrel who salivates at the site of bike riders. I had just gotten home with my new bike, a birthday present I happily purchased for myself after weeks of research for the right make/model and color (my new way to move frequently at a slow pace). Shiny and blue with a pink water bottle holder and 21 gears to play with! At that point the only thing missing was the wind in my hair! Justin went inside to wash and fill up my matching pink water bottle and I was off. On my second lap around the neighborhood I passed the elderly lady three houses down as she was pulling in her drive, devil dog was riding shotgun.

Devil dog and I had a run in one morning when I was coming out of the house for work. Apparently I interrupted it's morning constitutional in my front yard. She barked at me and growled, letting me know she didn't appreciate my presence. Justin has also had issues with devil dog. He has been tormented as he was checking our mail one evening, that thing has a lot of nerve.

I was enjoying my third lap as I passed devil dog's yard. Just as I was about to breathe a sigh of relief devil dog shot out of her front yard with the speed and agility of a cheetah (or so it seemed). She proceed to chase me up the street growling, barking, nipping, thirsting for my blood. She chased me through my neighbors front yard and into my own. I hopped off of my bike, and threw it down. Threw down my brand new shiny blue bike, no time for a kickstand with devil dog on your heels. I took off running towards the open back door of the FJ, my closest refuge. But as quickly as it had started, it was over. Devil dog lost interest and retreated back to its own yard, barking in victory along the way. I proceeded to shout colorful language down the street at the lady, outlining violent acts if the event were ever to occur again. I then ran inside and screaming and crying, telling Justin that if he didn't go over there and talk to that lady about her dog I was leaving. I don't know where I was planning on going, but I was leaving. I screeched the whole ordeal to him while he was putting on jeans a shit kicking boots for his own protection. He was my knight in shining armor, or Levi's and dusty brown leather steel toes, picture how you will.

After I calmed down I went back out side and walked down to the old lady's house. She was sweeping her front porch and petting devil dog. I apologized for my colorful language (as that is not the southern lady-like thing that this Georgia girl was raised to do). I introduced myself to the old lady and she begins to tell me how sorry she is and that devil dog didn't mean it. I informed her that I am ok, but that I am not ok with devil dog's actions, nor would a parent be ok if devil dog would have acted that way towards a child. The situation ended on a decent note, she promised to try and train devil dog.

Devil dog continues to lunge at the window and bark ferociously in attack mode as I ride my bike by their house. I called animal control that day and reported the dog. Not out of spite for the lonely old lady and her mean dog, but because if devil dog were to ever get hold of another person, especially a child, I would want something on record stating that the dog has acted this way before. I now own dog repellent spray and a mutual dislike of devil dog.

[Gay Panda]

Sometimes I poke my doughy belly and tell it to go away, but there is little in this world more recalcitrant, and less intimidated by stern pronunciations and prodding fingers, than fat. When I lay down on my side, the pooch spreads out beside me and makes itself comfortable under my glare. I didn’t invite this stranger into my bed, yet it is there and I can’t kick it out.

Gay Panda is often complimented on being patient, but Gay Panda actually is not. Inside, I’m having a tantrum when a light stays red too long, or when an ancient person in front of me at the cash register fumbles through a purse, crying feebly, “Oh, wait! I have sixty-seven cents in here somewhere.” Gay Panda is a controlled impatient person, and weight loss would test the patience and control of a saint.

Weight does not fall off me. That expression makes me think of trees in autumn dropping their leaves, steadily shrinking from full summer swell to slender winter nude. Weight does not melt away from my body either, like scoops of ice cream plopped on a hot sidewalk to liquefy in the sun. My extra pounds are content to stay right where they are, and to contribute nothing at all of use, which gives my fat something in common with Mr. Magazine Time.

Perhaps there is a tiny Mr. Magazine Time in every one of my fat cells, fighting desperately to maintain the status quo of doing as little as possible. When my body calls upon a fat cell for energy, I can easily picture a tiny Mr. Magazine Time saying, “I think,” followed by a pause, because the real one always spoke this way to alert us that Great Words Were About To Be Spoken, “check it, just hear me out, I think that you really should go to the muscles first. Get on that.”

It is with terrible struggle each tiny Mr. Magazine Time is defeated. Primal has called his bluff. But until the last second, he kicks and screams and clings to the doorway by his fingertips, refusing to vacate his comfy, fluffy cell with its People magazines, and be consigned to the ghastly fate of having to DO something in my body besides just be toted around. I think of this when I want to eat bread. All my internal Mr. Magazine Times cheer me on to eat it, because it locks the doors of their cells and they can go back to singing Put A Ring On It in falsetto.

It is slow going for me to lose even at 100% primal. I will lose, if I’m patient and persistent enough. But it is SLOW, because I’m battling Mr. Magazine Times who were perfectly happy with the way things were before. I used to be 231 pounds of premium panda meat and now I am 191, and I am fighting the next batch of Mr. Magazine Times that will get me to 190. It may take another two weeks of pulling on their feet as they cling to doorways and shout at each other encouragingly, “I think- check it, just hear me out, I think that we can outlast Gay Panda. Hold on tighter, single ladies!”

But they’ll give up the ghost in time, and then I will be battling the batch keeping me from 189. I want a magic wand to spirit me to the 160s, and that’s my impatient side yelling at those millions of Mr. Magazine Times to get the hell out, and it’s not a language that he understands. He understands only what food I put in my body, not obscenities or glares or poking fingers.

Maybe some of you are also traveling the Slow Weight Loss Train with Gay Panda, where every loss is followed by a gain and another gain and then sort of a loss and then a gain and then a loss and then two days of exactly the same and a loss before a big gain that vanishes overnight. It’s trying, but now you know your enemy. There’s a little Mr. Magazine Time in all of us.

[Gay Panda]

KatyNC, what a horrifying creature!!! My neighbor dog Sauron is like that and his owner just has no idea how to train him. He's her wittle precious-wecious who wouldn't hurt a flea.

[Gay Panda]

Ha ha!Sounds like an interesting time on the Nordic..

And, of course, it was performed at the gym in front of 30 other people!

[ottercat]

What sort of books does the indie joint handle? Most of what I write is young adult magical realism.

It sounds like something that they would be interested in. I think they publish an eclectic mix since I know they are even expanding to non-fiction.Their blurb is "Camel Press publishes genre fiction: romance, mystery/suspense, science fiction, horror … or any combination thereof." One time I asked cousin-in-law what kind of stuff she was working on and she said, "Jewish, teen romance, erotica, occult, thriller". I said, "All in one book? ha ha" and she said, "Yes!". You can "like" them on Facebook too and see what they're up to.