Howard offered to take me on a drive, so me, Howard and Ruby drove out to Huntington, LI. I wanted to see the swampy, stream-y, pond-y area I lived across the street from when I was little.
First we went here. This was where I lived from 9 to 16-years old. This house was okay. There are woods in the back which I liked.
Another shot to the left.
But the house below is the one I loved. I couldn't get a good shot because of the way the road turns, and it's blocked (nicely) by a lot of trees. This house has woods in the back too, and it was across the street from ...
... this.
Howard and Ruby walking across very narrow planks.
Howard and Ruby shaking the whatchamacallit because it made me nervous. Real mature Howard and Ruby.
Howard and Ruby on a path. I didn't take pictures of my favorite parts, weirdly. I loved and still love the streams the best.
I forgot me. Ruby in a tree and me! I was too chicken to climb up on the branch.
My friend Joe sent me this, after I told him my spider and roach stories. Joe, for the love of God, MOVE. Seriously, I would never get another good night's rest if a spider like that showed up in my apartment. I'd be like my cats, who once saw a mouse run under the stove years ago and have been checking under the stove ever since, hoping for its return. Every night I'd wait in fear of the return of the spider.
How can you not love Matt Harding?? I ask you. My favorites are the walruses (is that what they are?) on the Shetland Islands, and whenever people dance with him, like the kids in Rwanda and San Francisco. Scariest one: Norway. Be careful, Matt!
The other night, a daddy long legs woke me up as he crawled over me. I jumped up, but I didn't have the heart to kill him. I just watched him as he walked away. I hate hate hate spiders, even ones as benign as daddy long legs.
But I think I hate flying roaches more. I was going to put up a picture of one but I hate them so much I couldn't even deal with a picture of one on my blog. People who have never seen them flying don't believe they exist, but I found the description below. Note the part that says they look identical to other cockroaches. That is the most diabolical thing about them. They look like regular, big old waterbug type cockroaches, but when you get up to get rid of them they fly off the wall and RIGHT INTO YOUR FACE.
"Asian cockroaches are almost identical to German cockroaches in appearance. (Except, as I said, if you walk toward them they FLY INTO YOUR FACE.)
Asian Roach Behavior
"At dusk, the Asian roach becomes very active and adults are attracted to light reflected off light-colored walls, doorways and windows. This roach is capable of sustained fly for a distance of 150 feet. They then actively try to enter the home where they rest on lighted walls. When light are turned off (as residents of the home leave a room,) the cockroaches will follow to the next lighted room. Thus, many residents believe that these roaches are attacking them -- but they are not."
Right. So, I'm trying to decide, which are worse? Spiders or flying roaches?
I bought a stand for my isight camera -- I need it for a new blog I'm planning called Buried in New York. Doesn't the isight mounted like that look a little bit like a tiny War of the Worlds?
The new blog is going to be about stuff that I've written about in my books, things that are buried and forgotten somewhere. But I also want to interview people, either about forgotten things, or because the people themselves have been forgotten.
For instance, I was watching this grade B, scifi movie from my childhood, Monolith Monsters (very satisfying, it took me back and I actually enjoyed it) and I wondered whatever happened to the little girl who almost turned to stone in the movie. Wait. People might not like the idea of being interviewed for a blog named Buried in New York. I have to think about this.
Whenever I walk to the gym I pass a woman on the corner of 6th and 14th calling out, "Free spit balls!" I always knew she couldn't really be saying what I thought she was saying, but I was afraid to make eye contact because what if she is saying what I think she's saying?? I don't think it would be a good idea to make eye contact with a woman offering free spit balls.
I finally glanced in her direction and figured out what she is saying by the store she was standing in front of. She is saying, "Free Sprint phones."
This is a block away from where I live, 152 years ago. Technically, time travel is possible, according to physicists. If it's possible, it's already happening then, right? But it must be only the people in the future, getting to travel around. Maybe they are watching us now. Not us us, because what are we doing that's so interesting? But they could go back to 9/11 and study what happened. They know all about what Jesus really said and if he married or not. History is their theatre. The biggest business of the future will be going back to record what really happened, and finding the best things to watch -- no! Developing the best search engines for the past. Right??
This is the band I'm in, Manhattan Samba. I'm in there somewhere drumming. This is the problem with being teeny, damnit!
This is Pixie. Every day I go to the blog for the French Bulldog Rescue Network. I long for a French bulldog. The thing is, I live on the 5th floor of a 5th floor walk-up, so walking a dog would be a bit of a nightmare, and I have two cats, who I think would either scratch a dog to pieces after getting over the initial shock, or would hide in the bedroom for the rest of their lives. I don't have the heart to traumatize them.
Recently, they had pictures of Pixie. Pixie broke my heart. I ended up contributing to her care, and now I fantasize about applying for her and going to Texas to get her.
If you go here you can help Pixie or another dog, too.
I seem to be on a God theme lately, but one of the best things about God is the music written in his name. I went to a summer sing the other night and we sang Mozart's Requiem. I'm sure most people already know this, but Mozart died while writing this, and it was finished by one of his students. Normally the transition to the student's stuff doesn't bother me, I don't have the most sophisticated ear, but the other night, for the first time, there were parts that felt like it had been written by a third grader after what we had been singing a few minutes ago.
Speaking of death, I was freaking out about the 9/11 tape they were playing over and over, the one with the woman pleading with the 911 operator, "It's so hot, it's very very very hot." That one. It made me stop and think, okay, just what did she have to endure? And I thought it through, the room getting hotter and hotter and hotter, slowly, it must have been like being cooked, hotter and hotter until you can't breath and die. The fucking horribleness of it all. This happened to someone. I just simply can't get used to the idea of what some people have had to endure. Some people get a roll of the dice that is so beyond measure horrible that I can't comprehend the monumental unfairness, the unthinkable awfulness of it.
I never quite understood why people wanted to believe in Hell, but now I kinda see it. Sometimes you are powerless to prevent or do anything about something unspeakably awful. We may never catch Osama bin Laden and the people who planned 9/11. What is left but to take some comfort in the fact that justice will be served in the hereafter? Except I think that's ultimately a no-win fantasy, that feeds nothing good in the world. It keeps anger and hate alive instead of neutralizing it. Except maybe that kind of fantasy is just a step towards letting go of the anger.
First you elect Bush, TWICE, and now this?? I'm so depressed that Travis didn't win. Benji is very sweet, I can see the appeal, not just see it, I like him too, but come on. Benji is a great dancer, a great great ballroom dancer. But ballroom aside, Travis is the better dancer. And not just a little better. There were a couple of routines where he genuinely moved me, there was so much expression in his body. Benji made me smile, but Travis made me smile AND also broke my heart.
I also want to put in a good word for Ivan. I agreed with Mia Michaels, who is very articulate, I love her comments, she is extremely good at explaining each dancer's strengths and weakness, but she said she cried when he was voted off. Ivan was another one who broke your heart.
But here are Travis and Benji, the two top dancers. Congratulations to both of you and thank you "So You Think You Can Dance." You are my new favorite reality TV show.
This is just a quick thing to see if I can do it. Can I just say, I LOVE YOUTUBE. Ohmyfucking God!! It worked, didn't it?? Yay!! Yay!! Yay!! The great thing is, I made this with my existing isight camera, so I don't have to buy anything. Happy day.
I don't believe in God. I am so used to that bringing out the hate, it was a pleasure to see this film on YouTube! Not only did it have an atheist positive message (when do you EVER see that?) but the people commenting were friendly. It didn't get ugly!
It made me feel good and not alone in the world. People can disagree with me without hating me (and wishing me dead or left-behind in some post-apocalyptic world).
Technically, I'm an agnostic. I don't really know either way. Atheists say I'm being a wimp, but I think I'm just not being a know-it-all. I really don't think there's a God though. I guess I'm an atheist with some reservations.
My cousin Debbie sent me birthday presents! And my favorite kind!! Old photographs. This one is of my mother (dyed blonde!) my grandmother, and me, at 11-years old.
A flood in the basement of the house where I grew up destroyed all the family photographs that were stored there. As a result, I have only a handful of pictures of myself growing up. I've got a couple of me as a baby and a toddler, and one when I was 12-years-old. I have a bunch from 16-years-old on, because my father bought me a camera then, and I went nuts taking pictures, and making albums and I had those with me.
So this picture of me at 11, is one of maybe six photographs that I know of that exist of me before I turned 16. I was a pool rat. I spent every day that I could in the water. The conversation between me and my mother is probably going something like this. "How long before I can go back in the water??" "I told you. A half an hour." "It's been way over a half an hour!" "It's been ten minutes." "No, it's been an hour at least." "Stacy, you're not going back in that water until you digest your food." "I'm done digesting! I promise!"
Thank you, Deb!!
I don't remember where I got this from. Kitten of the Day, maybe? It just made me think of this great book I'm reading called The Men Who Stare at Goats. It's about various non-traditional things the military has looked at or is looking at. One thing they considered was having soldiers carrying baby lambs I think it was, when first going into a town or city where a battle might take place, and offering them to the opposing army. It jumped into my head because I was thinking how disarming this little kitten is. Of course, you can't count on the insane to appreciate a baby anything, but everyone else, maybe?
I recommend this book highly. I'm reading it because I want to learn more about the military's history of paranormal experiments, but it would be a pleasure for anyone to read. The writer has an extremely subtle, but very funny writing style.
My friend Jonathan sent this to me. It's from a website called Thrillist. That's right gentlemen, fear the kitty. I love the "stop right there" gesture.
I've really got to work today, because for some reason I watched bad TV all day yesterday and didn't do a thing.
I got a nice mention recently in the Washington Post, in a new-in-paperback section. Thank you, Washington Post!
There are the high-profile murders, the ones that lead to tense press conferences, triumphant arrests and riveting trials. And then there are the other murders, the ones that don't make the front page, that haven't been solved. In The Restless Sleep: Inside New York City's Cold Case Squad (Penguin, $15), Stacy Horn follows the dogged detectives at work on four of these low-profile murder cases -- that of a drug-dealing couple from 1996, an off-duty cop from 1977, a 14-year-old girl from 1988 and a young Southern woman from 1951. "While the rest of the world has forgotten the cases that have gone cold, if they ever even noticed them in the first place," writes Horn, "the Cold Case Squad reaches into our worst past and yanks these victims back from oblivion."
Tonight is the finale for "So You Think You Can Dance." It's so hard to decide, every single one of the dancers is extremely charming. You just really like each one of them. (And how I miss Ivan!) And they are all good at what they do. But I gotta go with Travis. He really is the best dancer, AND you love him. Oh, but I love Benji, Heidi and Donyelle, too. This is killing me!! Why must you make us decide?? Maybe it will come out a four-way tie!
But watch Travis in this. Amazing. And remember the one with the park bench?
This morning I gave the keynote address for a conference titled: Cold Case Homicide Investigations: Methodology and Protocol, Juvenile Homicide Applications. I was invited by Dave Chortle of the Anne Arundel County States Attorney Office and the Mid-Atlantic Cold Case Homicide Investigators Association. The conference was also hosted by the Naval Criminal Investigative Service Cold Case Homicide Unit (NCIS), and the Magloclen Organization.
I had such a great time. Now I'm thinking it was a mistake not to have stayed for a couple of days of the conference. Everyone was so nice and interesting and how can you not love people who do everything they can to solve the murders of children?
I believe these people marching are called Plebes. My father is a graduate of Annapolis. I've never been there and it was kinda cool to go and to give a speech there. Thank you so much for inviting me, Dave! It was an honor, and you were a great host. And thank you Mike and Len for your help getting me there and helping me set up.
My friend Rebecca and I went to visit Mary, who loves cats as much as I do. This is Mary with Darcy. I fell in love with Darcy and almost kidnapped him. But Mary was onto me and kept an eye on Darcy, so no go with the kidnapping.
I am at a crossroads in my life. This feeling has been building. Last month when I put together the list of what I would do with the next ten years of my life, it felt empty. Nothing on it was what I really needed to do. I have to change my life, I've decided.
This might be the real midlife crisis (I thought I went through one at 40). I've been talking to all my friends. I think most of them get it. I've done most of the things I wanted to do with my life. And I've maneuvered my life so that most of what I do is exactly what I want to do. That should feel great, and it doesn't feel bad, but it does feel kinda pointless.
Rebecca, a successful architect, just quit her job and went back to school to become a neo-natal nurse.
So, I think I have to change my life, too. Except for the writing part. That part feels JUST fine, thank you, and I will do that as long as I possibly can.
And it's not too hot! The window in front of me is open, there's a real breeze. That's Buddy and Finney laying about under my chair at my desk. God, they're cute. What's up for this weekend:
- Brunch with some friends.
- Practice Annapolis speech.
- Work on Duke book.
- Gym at some point.
- Movie at some point. That reminds me, see Little Miss Sunshine. GO. Trust me.
- Figure out new career. I seem to be going through a second mid-life crisis and feel the need to re-vamp my life. I'll talk about this in another post, but I'm open to suggestions.
It's so hot I can't sit at my desk, even though the air conditioner hasn't been turned off in three days. That's my desk, with the curtains drawn, also for three days straight. The only place that's bearable is on the couch, in front of the air conditioner. It's insane.
I'm so glad I got past my reluctance to change and upgrade things. I'm sitting comfortably on my couch with my Powerbook, on a wireless network, with my digital camera, which took the picture of my desk, which I uploaded in seconds to my blog (can't upgrade the blog software, alas, but that's a $$$ issue) and I've got my HDTV running the non-stop, hell-in-a-handbasket news, oh! It's one of the PC guy and MAC guy commercials! I love these. AND! I just got email from my British editor congratulating me on my publication day (for the UK paperback)!
Life is good. For a moment here and there. Fuck. IT'S A TRICK. Isn't it? The universe is messing with me.
Update, 3:25PM. Finney joins me on the couch. Rumsfield is on CNN, so I have to turn the channel. Ugh. Jennifer Lopez on another channel, can't stand her. Oh good, Rumsfield's gone. Back on CNN. Hello little Finney. Thank you for joining me on the couch.
This is Gaither Pratt and Hubert Pearce. Gaither was a scientist, and pretty much the second-in-command at the Duke Parapsychology Laboratory. Hubert Pearce was the best ESP subject they ever found. Look at them. They are 22 and 27 in this photo. So serious. They're just starting out in their lives. Both wanted to become ministers at one point. Gaither changed his mind, but Hubert did go on to become a Methodist minister in Arkansas.
And both are now dead. I can never meet them. But I've been writing about what they were like for the past month or so. It's insane when you think about it. I've been searching through various archives to find film footage of them, but so far I haven't turned anything up. But I am in touch with their children, who have been helping. I was just emailing with Gaither's daughter Ellen last night. And I have talked to a bunch of people who knew them. But still. It's weird. Luckily, there are a lot of records, tons of letters. I can immerse myself in the correspondence and get a feel for what they were like, and their relationships with other people.
I rescheduled my library visit yesterday. It was just too hot. It would have made an enjoyable thing not fun. I want to go when I can enjoy myself. But this weather is getting to me. I'm doing another fun thing tonight, I'm being interviewed on a BBC show about the cold case book, but right now I'm dreading getting on the subway and going uptown. I'm going to get there early to give myself a chance to cool down before the interview.
The second a fort is provided, a cat jumps in to occupy it.
So today I'm going up to the American Society for Psychical Research to use their library. Normally this would be a nice thing, going up to a library (I love libraries) and then taking a nice long walk home. But New York and other places are about to be burned off the face of the earth and I don't want to go out there! Oh God, the subway. What fresh hell will that be like??
Well, who knows what wonderful surprises I will find in the library so I will concentrate on that. I'm going to leave the air conditioner on for the cats, even though they're begging us to conserve. I don't have the heart to turn it off in this kind of heat, though. I don't want them to suffer.