I promised a happier post this time. Didn’t I? Is the title good enough to make that?
I should know better. I like horror stories because they’re not Happily Ever After. If you pick ‘em right, they may not even be Happy For Now. If I’m not guaranteed a happy ending, I have less chance of figuring it out before I finish the book. Not to mention, I’m simply “that kind of person”.
So, happy post? Well, let’s see.
Resolution 1: I’m back to being me now. I’m not a contortionist, nor do I wish to be. I know that makes no sense to anyone but me, so you’ll have to trust me. It’s a growth spurt. It’s the equivalent of “Fuck it. I’m me and I’m happy with that.” See. Happy.
Resolution 2: Not so hard when I have studying to do. Plus the rain finally took a breather this weekend. The last thing I wanted was to be on Twitter all day. I ignored not only Nic and Max’s Twitter, but also my own for nearly the entire weekend. Honestly, do people really care to know that I’m watching Blues Brothers, while eating steak, corn, and potatoes baked on the grill, after having some damn good sex, repeatedly, to work up an appetite? Ok, maybe the last part. I already knew you were all pervs. Why else would you be here with me?
Speaking of good sex, I just finished the second book in Ally Blue’s Bay City Paranormal series, What Hides Inside. I found Ally on www.fictionwithfriction.com, a site comprised of several writers of M/M erotica. (For you noobs, the M stands for male, and the second M stands for… yes, male. If you still don’t get it, go check out that site.) I fell in love with her gay boy, Finn, from first read. Finn isn’t in these stories, but the chemistry between Sam and Bo was definitely delicious in this second book of the series.
It wasn’t perfect however. I noticed during Dean’s “performance” that each of the men in the story had the same dialogue chart during sex. Sure, short one or two words sentences, or gasps, are fairly common during coitus, but does every single male actually call out to God upon penetration and does every male announce that they’re “close”? Even if it was so, fiction cannot and never will be real life. Characters need to vary enough to tell them apart – maybe more so in the bedroom when the reader wants to either skip ahead in a fierce blush or, like me, wants to suspend disbelief until the boss walks by and asks why I’m chewing a knuckle. (No I didn’t tell him it was because it kept me from drooling on my keyboard, but then you already know I’m a perv too.)
Overall, this is a happy blog entry and I wouldn’t be lying to say that this dialogue conundrum didn’t interfere with my enjoyment of the story itself. And yes, there was a story to go along with the smut. I prefer it that way. If I just wanted smut, I have plenty that I can dig up to read just “those” chapters.
I’m not sure what’s next. I gave up on the vampire book, and I don’t want to catch up on my Koontz reading until after my exam later this month. Perhaps some Poppy Z. Brite? I think I have Exquisite Corpse in my to-read pile. If not, I have Wormwood in the read-and-loved pile, and I’d read it again. I should study, but even the most dedicated student needs a break occasionally.
Right? Or am I deluding myself? It is a popular pastime after all…