Just what you wanted to see on a Sunday morning. A tin can that’s been rusting in the garden since Eisenhower was president. Hum, should I throw it in the recycling bin? Do you think there’s some hope it can have new life?
Will anyone ever want to drink from this can again?
Someone out there is missing something. A tail perhaps?
Hubby says “Pick it up. Aren’t you curious to know what it is?”
Is he crazy? Besides, the someone missing the something might come back looking for it. Any chance of that you think?
I’ll be posting less and less for the foreseeable future. I’ve decided if I’m ever going to republish FLIPKA, I better hop to it.
In the original book, the main character (Dr. Fi Butters aka Flipka) tries to examine all of the strange events she encounters rationally and scientifically. The setting is, after all, the far reaches of Nevada, an area famous for unexplainable events, many linked to top secret government or military operations. However in DITH (working title), she hits the brick wall of what can be explained rationally and scientifically … at least by mere mortals.
Okay guys – wish me luck. I’m running out of gas.
Flipka’s mode of transportation – the Chevy Nova. Ever take a spin in a Chevy Nova? It’s a real hoot!
I’ve never been a big fan of circuses. I always have visions of the tightrope walker slipping and falling head first into the path of an elephant who’d been whipped into obedience a wee too many times. Or the clown on meth who flips out and decides to randomly fire into the audience. Only with real bullets and not water balloons. And then there’s the evil ringmaster with his Snidley Whiplash mustache!
Luckily my parents much preferred torturing us on the ski slopes or on rocky, dusty trails into the back country. Bears versus demented clowns, hum, I don’t know. Which one would you prefer?
However, many years ago I visited a friend in Las Vegas who was the “queen of props” for Cirque du Soleil’s Mystere and she was able to wrangle us “very special seats” for the midnight show. Despite my fear of clowns, we just couldn’t pass up very special seats to a Vegas show even if it was a circus. I hadn’t seen Jo for many years and was surprised that my brilliant friend, a person so well read and so knowledgeable in so many fields, would find joy and fulfillment dealing with, as she called them, “childish Russian acrobats with garlic tinged breath.” But she did.
Just before midnight, we slipped through a guarded back door and then rode the freight elevator up, up, up to a room which was basically a glass bird cage suspended from the ceiling. There, a team of technicians monitoring the sound and light equipment greeted us with a list of instructions:
No talking!!!
no sneezing!!!
no coughing!!!
no photos!!!
no eating!!!
no drinking!!!
no recordings!!!
and, don’t dare move from your seats until the break!!!
Our “seats” were actually a bench that faced a wall of windows sloping dangerously forward. Far, far below we could see the stage and the audience as they trickled in to find their seats. To be in that box as the theater went dark and all you could see were the muted lights on the various instrumental panels was … well I couldn’t breathe. It became even more surreal when several acrobats on swings dropped down from the ceiling, their faces so close to the glass we could see them chewing gum!
Then the beating of the giant taiko drums announced the start of the show. The acrobats flipped over backwards and dropped headfirst down towards the audience as search lights highlighted the startled faces in the audience. The acrobats flew over the audience like the flying monkeys in The Wizard of Oz until this creature appeared.
Alice the Escargot who marks the passage of time
The story line is impossible to follow as act after act explodes upon the stage, each one more daring and mind-blogging than the one before. If you’ve never seen a Cirque du Soleil performance, it’s hard to believe the acrobats, dancers, contortionists and magicians are really human beings. We were bedazzled, shocked and almost dizzy with excitement as we left the magic lightbox and exited into the now quiet casinos of the Treasure Island Resort.
Jo was dying. I think she lasted another year and it was a rough year. But the cast of Cirque du Soleil all signed a giant Get Well card for their “Queen of Props” which she cherished until the end.
And that’s where I got the idea for Flipka, the psychiatrist who ran away and joined the circus.
You may have noticed, though probably not, that I haven’t been keeping up with blogging and all the responsibilities implicit in that activity.One reason is I’ve been trying to finish Flipka II and it has been a struggle.I set out to try to clear up confusion some readers had with the ending and ended up adding almost 200 more pages. So, it’s definitely not going to be a repub of the first book but an entirely different beast.
One of my favorite reviews of the first edition of Flipka was from a charming writer named Robin Chambers who has written a series of science fiction novels, The Myrddin’s Heir series, for “children of all ages.” He wrote:
48% into the book, the plot went into hyperspace; but you go with it because you’re on the same spaceship, boldly going where maybe no author has gone before…
The wacky, utterly unbelievable plot is, however, merely the vehicle for JT Twissel to demonstrate her enviable skill set. Highly knowledgeable in a number of disciplines, she is very well read (I’m a sucker for literary references), sharply observant when it comes to individual character definitions, with a wickedly dry sense of humour and a wonderful command of language. 59% into the book you will meet the very likeable pilot Captain Wug, capable of such sentences as “May I ask, mellifluous one, why you want to know about the miasma behind our legendary monadnock?” The entire review is on the Flipka under Reviews
I was delighted with his review, of course, but “utterly unbelievable plot” I took slight umbrage with. A story’s got to have a believable plot, right?
And so I tried to insert “believability” into my plot which was impossible in the era of Trump. I guess because believable is somewhat associated with sanity and we certainly don’t have a lot of that going round.
It was a fool’s mission, friends. However, Fi Butters does get to the bottom of the mystery that the CIA, ICE, FAA or Federation of Planets is so anxious to protect.
The second reason I haven’t been blogging is that I’m planning a trip.Some people are Anglophiles and some are Francophiles but I am a Canophile.My favorite singer/songwriters (Gordon Lightfoot, Leonard Cohen) are from Canada as are many of my favorite actors.
Last but not least, my favorite book as a child (Anne of Green Gables) was set in Canada.So I’m planning a trip to Nova Scotia and boy oh boy, if you think my plots are wacky and unbelievable, so are the trips Iplan.I’ve got us flying into Montreal, taking an overnight train to Halifax, biking all over Prince Edward Island, flying back to Montreal and then taking an overnight train down to NYC.Already I’ve spent quite a bundle and we don’t even have places to stay.Or any idea where to eat. The last time I went to Montreal I was a poor college kid and we lived on canned soup. Our entertainment was wandering around Mt. Royal.
So I’m asking all my Canadian buddies for suggestions.What are the things we shouldn’t miss?Foods we must try. Fun places to stay.
Saying nothing in particular 