photo ops

okay, so the latest news is that i purchased a new digital camera, the panasonic dmc-fz5. i needed a camera that took high resolution photos for the covers of our books. a cover sometimes can make or break a book, so it is important to take really good, sharp pictures. blood stone press informed me that the pictures should really be about 300 ppi in order for the covers to turn out well. so i went and bought this camera, for a pretty low price too. helps that i work at a retail store and that we were blowing out the cameras in order to make way for newer models. based on recommendations from various people and sources, and based on the physical evidence, i opted for the panasonic. i could have gotten a canon that took similar photos, but then you're paying near double the price. and since i probably won't use the camera for anything other than the covers, i figured paying a grand for a similar camera wasn't worth it. so now i'm really excited to use the camera. the first cover i will be shooting is the re-shoot to this is hardcore. the model wasn't too impressed with some of the photos i took of her the first time around, so this time, we're gonna do it right. my old fuji just didn't do the trick, so with this new panasonic, i'm hoping i can capture in great detail all the emotion and beauty that the model will portray in the pictures.

as for this is hardcore, i am in the process of editing it. adam has already read it and liked it, and caroline is in the process of reading it. however, my focus is primarily on revolutionaries wanted. i've already got some awesome ideas for how i want this book to be written. for the first time in a while, this book will be completely written in the third person perspective. i've grown accustomed to the first person, and while i dabbled a bit with it in this is hardcore, i will going full on with it this time around. perspective is really important, and i couldn't think of a way for me to write it in the first person. it just didn't feel right. the final product should be quite different from my previous outings. the good thing is that i have now developed a style of my own. when adam finished reading this is hardcore, he said that it isn't desert sessions, but it's still a loring kim book. that's probably the best comment that i've ever heard about my writing.

also, if you google the words, conquered nation press, you'll see that we're number one! that's pretty exciting. I will also be putting updates from revolutionaries wanted up on the site on a semi-regular basis, so keep your eyes open.


revolutionaries wanted


Her arms are tight around him. Her face, buried close against the nape of his neck. Her chest tight against his back, her legs draw up behind his with her knees snug, locked into the back of his. Her long, wispy blond hair is in her face, with her eyes fluttering behind closed eyelids. The eyelashes are long and black and thick. Her skin, pale and lightly freckled with golden spots. Her nose is small. Her lips are pink and slightly parted, breathing evenly, warmly against the back of his neck. She’s soft, young, her body still clinging to what little teenage fat she still had left. The room, white, bright, and empty; she clings to him amongst the white sheets, an island amongst a sea of rough, worn, hardwood floor. Four in the afternoon, babies don’t sleep this well. The pursuit of pleasure is tiresome. In the warmth of the room, the blinding whiteness, she stirs and opens her eyes slowly. She sits up and looks at him, with his slightly long, black hair. She slips out of the bed carefully, the bra she’s wearing stands in striking black lines that cut through all the whiteness. Contrast. Stand out. She goes to the washroom, long white legs and all, and sits herself down on the toilet. She finds her black panties hanging from the towel rack and slips them on when she’s done. She wanders back to the bed and snuggles up behind him. The pursuit of pleasure. It’s tiresome.

He grabs the clear plastic jug and rinses it out in the sink. He starches his bare stomach. He goes into the refrigerator and grabs a can of frozen raspberry concentrate. Opens the can, he spills the contents into jug. The log of juice splatters against the bottom of the jug and there’s blowback. He flinches as the red stuff flies up to splash him in his eyes. He blinks rapidly and rubs the back of his hand into his eye, spreading the juice around further. He glances at his reflection in the stainless steel silver toaster. There’s blood in his eye. After mixing the drink, he wanders back to the bedroom where she’s still sleeping. He pours himself a glass and sits down on the bed, causing it to shift slightly. This is enough to disturb her. She opens her eyes and turns to him. Gazing. He accidentally spills some raspberry juice on the white covers and watches with dismay. The red splotches grow deep and expand. Circumference increasing. Fighting against the cotton fabric. Winning. Here’s to all the rivals. She just looks at him, watching the expression change on his face.


no news is good news...

...well, at least where writing has been concerned. i have officially finished the first draft of this is hardcore. it's rough, it's bare bones, it... it is what it is. upon initial reflection, it seems that this is hardcore is definitely more commercial than desert sessions, yet at the same time being quite off setting and not quite as accessible, if that makes any sense. probably not. oh well. tih is finished, and I am glad for it. it was so hard for me to get around to finishing the story, mostly because i had already moved on to other works. my emotional attachment to the book was pretty much severed, with very little for me to say or do except, well, to finish it. i actually finished it a couple of days ago. it clocks in at a lean 61 pages, done on 10 point font. which basically means it should be somewhere in the range of 140-150 pages once published (with a little creative manipulation of the margins and font...). ds came in at 90 pages, and asthetically, ds looked dense when you tried to read it, so i'm trying to get away from that, let my novels breathe a bit. so you're looking at a book that is just a little over half of what ds was. at any rate, here's another sample...

Will turns his attention to the gas attendant, a blond, slightly overweight of a specimin who’s busy scratching the back of his head as he stares into the sun. The Stranger is busy in the store, rummaging through the fridge, trying to find something to drink. Will steps out of the car and sidles up to the gas attendant. He attempts to say something, but the man just stares at him. He looks back towards the store just as The Stranger steps outside. The two of them share a glance, something a little more than the sky, right before Will takes off. He’s several steps ahead, taking giant strides as he sprints across the dirt. He’s got his fists clenched and they’re swinging by his sides as he runs until his lungs start to burn and his blood boils like battery acid being pumped throughout his system. Will clutches a fistful of his shirt and holds it against his heart as he runs. There it goes, Will thinks to himself, anticipating it, even as his heart skips a beat. It finally happened; it finally broke. There’s no extended warranty policy for the human heart. He’s going to have to replace it or die. He’s going to have to find a heart that he can live with. He can feel it coming over him. He’s sweating as he slows down, near doubled over in pain under the blanket red sky, his gasps for air lost in the air. The Stranger runs up behind him and kicks Will’s leg out from under him, dropping him to the ground. Will scrambles to his feet and lumbers down the road a few meters, dragging his legs as if weighted down with cement shoes. The road is long and stretched out before him, elongated like some sort of cartoon. He falls to his hands and knees and crawls slowly along the ground, only to collapse at the crossroads. North, south, east and west… the four corners of the earth are more empty and distant then ever. He pulls on his shirt, his knuckles white and caught in a death grip. The Stranger leans over him, getting down on his hands and knees before him, leaning in close so that Will could smell him, all of him. He shows him the needle, its point gleaming under the sunlight. Liquid forms at the tip, a bubble of it, as clear as the day. It trembles on the tip, like a drop of pre-cum. “I’m going to sink my teeth into you now,” he whispers and inserts the tip into Will’s neck, penetrating the flesh. Will feels the prick and winces, more from the thought of it than the pain. Psychosomatic trauma is like playing air guitar; in your mind, you’re a goddamned rock star. He can hear Phil’s singing off in the distance like an echo. The last thing he sees is The Stranger’s face and he thinks that Dr. Strangelove is here to stay.

...so there you have it. a piece of tih all for your enjoyment. this is probably my meatiest offering to date on the book. please forgive any typos or bad lines because I'm just too tired at this point to bother. i will be taking another look at the book today before handing it off to adam for a first opinion on this draft. I am already busy working away at my next book, revolutionaries wanted, which will be my political opus about human rights and what a single, human life is worth weighed against western society's values. pretentious? you bet! hard to read? most definitely! what's the point? to make a statement. this book will be a sort of no apologies book. it's time i got back into more earnest fare. tih was a nice break from what i normally write, and it was mostly a half-baked idea that ended up taking steam once i realized that i didn't want to bother with political writing. but now it's time to get my hands dirty. can you tell that i'm excited to write rw? it's gonna be a gas. and i haven't forgotten about live acoustic (open fire). la(of) has sort of been pacified for the moment. as mentioned in earlier entries, la(of) is an experimental piece, where there will be no planning whatsoever. basically, whatever i feel like writing, i'll write, regardless of how illogical or riddled with holes.

hopefully i will have rw finished by the end of spring, for a publication date of early summer. the plan is to publish rw and tih together, so that we can get some sort of deal on printing costs. perhaps do a smaller run of each, like 300 copies. hopefully adam will be finished one of the two books he's writing, and we can then published three books together, and thus have about four books so that when we pay for distribution, it's a bit more worth it. you know, more bang for the buck. fucking capitalism. i'm such a socialist at heart. at any rate, adam's books sound exciting. one is about a guy who goes nuts after a girl he likes criticizes his photos for lacking emotion. he ends up going all psycho and doing horrible things to her to capture her emotions in his photos... the other is about a guy who finds that he'll do anything for this one girl, forgiving all her faults. this book involves a group of people dedicated to consumption and the purchasing of goods and services. sounds like a blast.

wow, i've rambled on for a while now. i guess that's what happens when you finally have a day off after working seven days a week, for five weeks straight, while trying to get a novel done. i need a life.