Undead 3 is out and the first reviews are in

After what seems like years--wait a sec, it HAS been years! ;) --the zombie anthologies that accepted a couple of my stories are finally out from Permuted Press, marking the first time I have appeared in an honest to god, ISDN-numbered BOOK. Two of 'em, even! In case my legion of fans wants to get hold of several boxes to distribute as gifts to loved ones, here they are on Amazon:

The Undead vol. 2: Skin & Bones - Containing "Till the Lord Comes" by Scott Standridge
The Undead vol. 3: Flesh Feast - Containing "If You Believe" by Scott Standridge

Also, Flames Rising has posted a review of vol. 3, and while the reviewer doesn't mention author names, he does give a run-down of each story, separating them into Great/Good/Not Good categories, and I'm happy to say he puts "If You Believe" in the top division:

If You Believe: Let's face it, in an anthology about the undead you know - pretty much - what's going to happen in any given tale. Even so I don't want to spoil this one for you as it is a goody with a lot to say about childhood innocence (or lack thereof) and the dangers of religion. Even though this is more of a straight horror tale I felt it deserved a top-spot mention for just being so damn good.

Thank you sir, I'll take it! :) Nice to feel validated. Anyway, with Halloween coming up, what better treat than a horror anthology? Esp. one with Zombies? And me? Order yours today!

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And, If You're a Book Nerd Like Me...

Check THESE out.

Wow.

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Eclogue, of Sorts

Open me up and let what's outside in;
I can contain it. For today I feel
the bound'ry breaking down between what's real
and what's imagined. Yesterday my skin
fit tight; straight-jacketed, all bound and tied
like some madman enclosed by padded walls
I crouched in fear. But now that prison falls
away, and all the things I've left untried
cry out for doing. Let me gather wind
and leaf, grow florid, flowery, immense
with all Nature in my circumference--
abridge perimeters, abolish end.

Today's a day for limitless expanse,
unproven possibility, and dance.

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That'll Teach Me

The Science Fiction Poetry Association has announced the winners of its 2007 Poetry Contest, which this year called for sci-fi, horror, or fantasy sonnets.

It disappoints me to announce that Sonnet Boy is not among them.

A couple of faithful readers of my other blog, The Sonnet Project, told me about the contest and encouraged me to enter, which I enthusiastically did. I was even optimistic about my chances, as I felt some of my horror sonnets were definitely up to scratch, and after all, I had the cred, right?

Well, that'll teach me. :)

As often happens in cases like this, I found it difficult to read the winners with an open mind. They're fine sonnets all, and it's obvious that the judges' tastes, as you'd expect, leaned more heavily toward sci-fi than horror, the latter of which is my forte, if I have one.

And I know enough about editing to know that as much luck as skill goes into getting published/winning contests/etc.--a certain poem reaches a certain editor at just the right time, or hits just the right combo of personal preference and taste, whereas another just as skillfully put together somehow just fails to ring those bells. So while I'm disappointed that mine didn't win, place, show, or even get mentioned, I still maintain my belief in my own poems' quality, taking nothing away from the winners, which as I said were all quite good as well.

Magnanimous, no? :)

Anyway, I invite my readers (both of you) to have a look and tell me what you think.

Here are the SFPA Winners, and congratulations to them all.

And, in the interest of fairness, discussion, and because it's my damn blog and I'll whine if I want to, dammit!--here are my entries for comparison:

The Wendigo

Winter Dance

The Screams of Reason


Thanks to everyone for his/her/its encouragement.

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The JDRF Walk to Cure Diabetes is TOMORROW!

If you've been waiting till the last minute to sponsor Scott "Sonnet Boy" Standridge in support of this good cause, well, HERE IT IS!

Click Here to Make a Donation Online!

And thanks to the very, very generous folks who've already sponsored me. You rock!

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Workadaydream

Since there's no help, come, let us pay the rent
and bury busy noses in our bills;
sign every check till all the money's spent,
forestall a month or so these mortal ills.

Let neither art nor poetry intrude
to draw attention off important stuff;
there's gas to buy, and medicines, and food,
for which these wages scarcely seem enough.

Now, when all the weeks and days and hours
that make a life are lived but to be sold,
each youthful dream a seed that never flowers,
and possible paths barred by gates of gold--

you might yet turn your pockets out, and find
ahead the roads you thought you'd left behind.

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Pocket Garden

Try this: before you go inside to sit
in air-conditioned quiet, pull one leaf
and stick it in your pocket, like a thief.
Tell no one. Make a mystery of it.

In meetings, secretly caress the veins,
trace sawtooth edges, chlorophyllic flesh,
and surreptitiously inhale the fresh
green scent from fingertips: black earth, new rains.

It's easy to get trapped in what is not
a part of us; separate from the world
outside, and silence what's in us that sings
of sunshine-heated rocks, and fingers curled
around moist leaves. Let's learn what we've forgot:
there have to be connections between things.

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Sponsor Me on the Walk to Cure Diabetes!

In the absence of poetry, a plea for cash. :)

As most folks who know me know, I've had type-1 diabetes since I was 17 years old. It sucks, a lot, for all kinds of financial, emotional, career and health-oriented reasons. But it's starting to look as though there might be hope--for the first time experts are seriously predicting we'll see an out-and-out cure in our lifetimes.

Anyway, the Juvenile Diabetes Research Foundation funds an awful lot of research, and every year sponsors the Walk to Cure Diabetes. Most years I participate, as this is obviously a pet cause of mine.

If you can and would like to sponsor me in this walk--$5, $10, whatever you can afford--I'd be eternally grateful. Once I'm cured, I'll buy you a coke. :) You can donate online (it's easy!) by following the link below. Please do.

Sponsor Scott in the JDRF Walk to Cure Diabetes!

Thanks.

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A Djarum Black, After Quite Some Time

The worst thing for you: static crack and hiss,
the orange-white blossom of a magic flame
to ring the rod in ash. It's just the same
as years ago, before it came to this.

Destruction tastes of licorice and clove,
familiar sweetness sitting on my lips
not quite forgotten. Inhalation slips
through sandalwood and memory. I strove

once to eradicate affected vice,
be clean in lung and mind, to mute the buzz
of nerves vibrating with expensive smoke.
But silence played like some forgotten joke,
and now, inspired, I guess I'll pay the price
for getting back to being who I was.

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Dying Alone in London

At MonkeyFilter, one of my internet haunts, someone posted this fascinating, affecting, and extremely well-written story from the Times of London online. Don't read unless you want to think about life, death, and the tragedy of modern anonymous existence.

Dying Alone in London: the Lonely Death of Andrew Smith.

In the absence of poetry, life.

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