The best dream of my dreams of heaven

UpToHeavenI often dream of heaven. Not of heaven so much as me going to heaven. It’s always a sunny day when I start. I can fly, of course, and so I do I fly up through a beautiful bank of cumulus clouds, piles upon piles of them. I’m very optimistic and excited. But then I enter the bank and claustrophobia sets in. I wonder if there’s no turning back even if God doesn’t like me.

There’s no one around in that bank, just more and fluffier white. I can feel the presence, though, of beings. Angels,  no doubt. They are not all benevolent as you know. Some of them are welcoming. They seem to be in my corner and shore me up. Others, though, put thoughts in my head about what do I think I’m doing here. I rarely make it past this stage, but once in a while…

One time I found myself in an abandoned two-story house. One of those places that you see from the road and wonder what tragedy happened here. What person died here in childhood, what kind of incest was perpetrated here? The house was weathered gray and rickety. A hole in the roof let the foyer fill with leaves. Cracked window panes, stained walls, sinking floor. No one was about, but I could hear voices. Again some were encouraging, but others implied rape or impalement on a spike if I didn’t leave.

I left.

Another dream was fantastic. Bright as day. It was a science fiction dream. I was in an open-air jet, flying through a narrow trough on either side of which were stone and cement apartment buildings, one on top of the other. No greenery anywhere, just architecture. Someone was in my jet egging me on. The apartments had balconies and people were out partying, waving to me, cheering me on. I just knew that if I hopped off the jet at any of these balconies, I would be welcomed inside to share lemons, salt and top-shelf tequila.

SteepleInFogI didn’t stay there either.

In my favorite dream of heaven I was myself an angel. A guardian angel. I lived in a lovely cottage on a cliff. My charges, the humanity living down in my neighborhood, would often visit me and ask me for advice. That was my job: to help people with problems. Sometimes I had sex in my cottage. It was very warm and bright with orange wall-paper.

One day I told God I was bored and, as you may have guessed, he became very angry. He told me if  my job was too easy, he would show me what it was like to be a human. The next thing I knew I was in the screened-in porch of a messy house on the edge of desperate town. Overturned tables, stacks of pornography, machine parts were everywhere. I had been kidnapped by an unshaven red neck and his half-wit son. They’d sewn me into a burlap sack with plans to have their way with me, which is to say, cook me for dinner.

Oddly enough I was not scared, but I knew the situation was not going to end well. I fought my way out of the bag and then away from the man and his son despite the fact that they had guns (they were not very bright) and flew quickly back to my perch on the cliff hundreds of miles away, apologizing to God the entire time, and promising to never be bored again.

When I woke up, I wrote a song about my world on the cliff.


You can hear it here:

Short film: Skateistan

Very cool little documentary from Vimeo’s staff picks on a skateboard park in Kabul, Afghanistan. Question: why don’t many girls in America, where there is no patriarchal restriction, skateboard?


You can visit the site for the amazing Skateistan project:

Short Film Review: Genesis

Here’s a short science fiction film starring an acquaintance from Stage 32, West Ramsey. I actually saw the end coming, being familiar with this type of Philip K. Dick-like twist.

Hard to do sf on a budget and in a short time span. You really need a good amount of time to do these big subjects justice. Takes a while to get the future world established and all that. Still this story is not so weird that they needed a lot of set up. I still feel more time would have given us some sort of resolution. As it is, I’m left wondering what’s going to happen to this replicant.




Fiction for Sale: Just in time for Xmas

The_Other_Half_of_the_Sky_Cover_FinalHere’s a blast from the past, Athena Andreadis’ collection of science fiction stories, entitled The Other Half of the Sky, is on sale over at Storybundle ( just in time for the greedy season.

You like to read? You love weird stuff? You love a good sale? Head over to Storybundle and pick up a bunch of books for $15. It’s all sf, fantasy, weird work. The Other Half of the Sky is one such weird sf book. A reminder: this anthology ended up with a bunch of award nominations. I am honored and humbled that my own story, Mission of Greed, somehow got included in this amazing book.

Don’t delay. Operators are standing by:



Where are the women of SF?

OHOTSCoverWhy are people focusing on this question so much lately? Is it some weak tie-in to women’s history month (March)? Does this happen every time spring rolls around? Or has something reached epidemic proportion and now it’s time to Do Something?

I don’t know but there does seem to be a rash of blog posts on the subject. There’s this. And then there’s this. And finally there’s this. Regardless, as Kathi Kimbriel pointed out on Facebook (I would include the link but I’ll be damend if I can figure out how to find anything at Facebook) the answer is: we’re here at Book View Cafe; can’t help it if no one is bothering to look. (For those who don’t know I’m a member of Book View Cafe although I don’t spend as much time over there as I should.)

Perhaps the larger question and the one the Strange Horizons post seemed to be asking is why aren’t the women being reviewed? Which actually translates to: why isn’t women’s writing being taken seriously? I’ll let the academics, the people that study science fiction, answer that. They’re the ones falling down on the job.
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Compare and Contrast: Moneyball and Rise of the Planet of the Apes

Reposted from Book View Cafe.

Why are these two movies reviewed together? Do they have anything in common besides the fact that they are products of Hollywood’s genius? No. Why mash ‘em up, then?

Because I happened to watch them back to back and they’re perfect to exhibit the difference between good and evil. Which is which? Ah, read on.

Let’s start with the similarities because they do have some.

  1. The lead males are crushable and I have a crush on both of them and that’s how they got on the netflix queue. I am not ashamed of that. Witness: Moneyball has Brad Pitt (‘nuff said). Apes has James Franco who self-amputated his arm in his last movie. That kind of dedication to craft is worth a crush.
  2. Both movies were released in 2011 which means they are still fresh in the movie maven’s mind. The general public at this point–one year on–is wondering who the hell Billy Beane and Caesar the Chimp are, but the movie maven remembers because that’s what movie mavens do. That, and pick apart the editing.
  3. They are both products of Hollywood’s genius.

Watching these two movies back to back is a statement. The statement is: you think you know Hollywood, but you don’t know Hollywood.

Let’s start with the Ape movie. This is Hollywood at its most egregious. First off, the power of Planet of the Apes is that we don’t know how it happened. The assumption when Charlton is pounding the ground and damning us all to hell in front of the great green bitch goddess half-buried in the beach off former Manhattan is that evolution happened. The aha moment comes with the slow dawn of realization that humanity is  doomed. Or maybe it’s simply humanity as we know it that’s doomed.

Didn’t you assume, just for a second when you first saw it, that omigod! humanity evolved into apes? You assumed it was the process of a million genetic mutations, each one resulting in a one-up against your creche-mates. It was a beautiful, ironic moment in the original movie because we thought Darwin said we evolved from the apes. We were sure of that.  The evolutionists had been telling us all along that it wasn’t that simple, but we persisted in our belief. So when the aha moment came and Charlton is damning us, we enter the Twilight Zone where humans devolve to their ancestors. There’s no one war. Or even a series of wars.  It’s an evolution. So do we even need this movie with its theme of interspecies warfare?

Consider the rise itself. How did it happen? This is Hollywood at its blandest. You see, there’s this  virus. Oh, that old plot device. Sometimes it’s a virus, but often it’s a potion, lethal dose of radiation, hex, prayer, brain transplant, or a smack upside the head with a two by four. Whatever; it’s  a deus ex machina that enters at the end of the writing process when the writer has exhausted his bag of tricks and still has no idea how to make the plot happen. This virus solves a multitude of loose threads. It provides a premise and establishes setting, motivation, and conflict, all within the first ten minutes of play time. Read your modern scriptwriters’ how to books. The virus is in there.

This is a most singular virus, even for a Hollywood virus. It gives Caesar human intelligence. But endowing Caesar with a hellacious IQ, is not the end of this virus’ talents. Under its influence, Caesar grows to human height. Eventually the virus gives Caesar a human-like larynx so he can talk the talk as well as walk the walk. The virus doesn’t stop there, though. Soon Caesar is  riding a horse in a full gallop amidst a hail of bullets and parked cars. This is the first time Caesar has ever mounted a horse. Even people with pelvis bones seemingly designed to hug a saddle can’t do that. And is Caesar kinesthetically challenged? Not for a minute. He does not need experience to develop balance. He has the virus.

One of the coolest things about the virus is that it has read Suzuki’s ART OF WAR. In his first pitchfork armed conflict, Caesar knew exactly how to outflank the enemy so efficiently Napoleon was weeping in his grave. And Caesar was a master at orienteering. He needed no map or GPS to find the direct route from the urban mess of San Francisco out to the redwood forest. Caesar knew to cross the bridge. The virus gave him that information.

In short, Hollywood took one of the most elegant ideas it came up with last century and gave it the old buzz saw treatment. In fact this movie has more in common with the Texas Chain Saw Massacre than it does with the original movie: there’s blood, gore, chases, good and evil, and a cute girl with three or four lines. Oh yeah, I forgot, the original had that too. So there is a connection after all.

Implausible? Which part? Monkeys climbing 100% vertical surfaces without so much as a nap let alone a hand hold? I’ll buy that. These are fast monkeys with incredible momentum. They’ll make it to four or five stories before gravity even notices what they’re up to.

How about a gorilla cooped up in a five by eight cage and taunted relentlessly by its lesser cousins roaming around freely? When this gorilla is released by one of those lesser monkeys, it is so grateful it doesn’t rip the chimp apart but instead swears fealty for life. I’ll buy that too. Gorillas are known for their Buddhist tendencies.

But one thing I won’t stand for is when Caesar finally becomes king of the hill, leader of the pack, big dog on the porch, instead of seeking out a nice piece of head matriarch punani, what does he do? He leads his people up out of Egypt to the land of milk and honey (or spruce tree borers in this case). C’mon guys no virus has that kind of vision.

I don’t think, anyway.

So much for the evil Hollywood. What about the good Hollywood? Moneyball.

How is it I like this movie? I don’t care for sports and haven’t watched a baseball game since Pascual Perez got fired for cocaine use. And sports movies? They’re either tearjerkers or feel good movies of the year, IMHO. That sentimental stuff rarely offers anything for the intellect. It’s just pure emotion. Especially if they’re based on a true story which this movie is.

Moneyball does not have a happy ending, or a tragic ending. Ah, it’s an art movie. No. It has a conflict, much like the ape movie. And like the ape movie the conflict revolves around intelligence. Human intelligence in this case. Versus computer. Now we’re talking. Now we have something that will stick to our ribs long after the corn has passed through the gut.

Here’s the setup: No one in baseball can compete with New York because the Yanks have a pile of money and so they buy the best players. Year after year they end up in the playoffs and then the series. Often they win. Yawn.

That’s the story with the Yanks. In the 90s over on the West Coast, Oakland in the 90s did alright, but mostly they just treaded water, never making it the final show. 2001 was a dismal season, but in 2002 general manager Billy Beane tried a new strategy. Instead of relying on his ace strategists with hundreds of years of combined experience to figure out who to recruit for his team, he used statistical analysis. Often the computer came up with players that were overlooked, almost ready for retirement, and most importantly underpaid. Because the A’s didn’t have the budget of the Yankees, these were the people that could give them a decent ball club and perhaps enhance their chances at the world series.

But as I said, this movie does not have a happy ending.  Oakland still has not made it to the series. But Billy Beane gave the fans a phenomenal 2002 year when they broke the American League’s record of number of wins in a row. It’s the high point of the movie. The A’s are ahead 11 to nothing in #20, the record breaking game. Their opponents, the unremarkable Kansas City Royals, come back to tie 11-11. How can any team overcome such a psychological set back? I’ll tell you how: Scott Hatteberg, who nobody besides Beane, including the coach, liked or had faith in, hits a home run and the A’s make American League history.

This movie has an important concept: human intelligence is no longer enough to put a ball club together. The computer does a better job.

I hate that kind of theory, that usurpation of what makes humans great. In my world view, intuition, gut feeling, hard won knowledge based on years of experience, wins the day. I find it annoying when the suits are right. I hate that they can sit in front of a box and manipulate the world the way they do. The theme of this movie goes against my principles.

On the other hand, do the stars of baseball deserve all that money and status? The truth is, if the fans come out because of the stars, then yes, they do. No amount of cold statistics will bring the fans out unless you’ve got Pascual Perez pitching a fit on the mound. It’s entertainment after all. But the proletariat player, the one on a modest salary that plods along, gets on base, stays on base, makes it home only because Babe Ruth behind him hits a home run, these are the bread and butter of the baseball club. Without them there’d be no runs. You have to have someone hitting the ball just enough to get on base. You need people in the out field, too. A game is not won by pitcher, catcher and short stop, or those that have great home run averages alone. A home run is only 1. You need the bases loaded and the bases get loaded by plodders and people that are a little over weight, getting kind of old, and not particularly handsome.

I love that the proletariat of America’s favorite past time, the plodders, get their due. Because I’m one of those plodders. I do my work without starshine and then go home. Don’t I deserve a little recognition once in a while? Oh not at a fancy award ceremony or a roast hosted by a local dignitary. Just a little notoriety so I can get traded up to a better paying  gig. I may not write runaway best sellers but I turn in my pages every day. I can churn out a short story with the best of them. I’m a valuable asset even if nobody knows my name. IMHO.

So is digitization of the world the only route to a true meritocracy? Maybe.

Go rent Moneyball. Watch Brad Pitt. You want to see James Franco, skip the ape vehicle. You’re better off with  127 Hours. It’s a veritable one man show and Franco gives good monologue.

By the way, Athena Andreadis has a whole different take on the Apes movie. She wrote a review when it first came out and you can read it over at her blog.

Thanks for reading!

Sue Lange
The trailer for Sue Lange’s story, Princess Dancer, is now available for your viewing pleasure.

New Science Fiction Anthology Due Next Year

I’m pleased to announce my participation in THE OTHER HALF OF THE SKY, a science fiction anthology slated for publication spring, 2013. The stories in this collection will feature female protagonists against a backdrop of space opera. They will include contributions from such writers as Martha Wells, Nisi Shawl, Joan Slonczewski, Ken Liu, and Jack McDevitt.

Athena Andreadis, one of the editors along with Kay Holt of Crossed Genres magazine, has a complete list of the contributors at her blog. She’s also posted opening paragraphs for the stories there. Take a look, leave a comment, put aside a little cash to buy the thing when it comes out next year.

For those that need to know: new kids on the publishing block, Candlemark & Gleam, are doing the honors. Watch their site for news.

And while you’re waiting, here’s the opening from Finders, by Melissa Scott:

“A thousand years ago the cities fell, fire and debris blasting out the Burntover Plain.  Most of the field was played out now, the handful of towns that had sprung up along the less damaged southern edge grown into three thriving and even elegant cities, dependent on trade for their technology now rather than salvage.  Cassilde Sam had been born on the eastern fringe of the easternmost city, in Glasstown below the Empty Bridge, and even after two decades of hunting better salvage in the skies beyond this and a dozen other worlds, the Burntover still drew her.”

Stay tuned! More to come.