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The thing about conspiracies…

The US presidential election came and went. Trump got re-elected. One of the reasons Kamala Harris lost – not a key reason, but one of them – is that she’d had just three months to campaign.

If you’re reading this way after 2024 (you lucky bastards) or if you just didn’t pay that much attention (I don’t blame you), Harris got her party’s nomination during the convention in August, after it became clear to all that Joe Biden started experiencing a noticeable mental decline. How did we get there? Well…

The thing about conspiracies is that they’re hard to pull off. Not impossible, but hard. Conspiracists get a lot of bad press and ridicule, but some of the things they banged their drum about are now part of established history. The Tonkin Bay incident, used as the reason for the United States to send troops to Vietnam, was never real: that was decried as a conspiracy until much later, when the truth came out. Snowden’s revelations about the full extent of the NSA’s domestic spying confirmed – and exceeded – the biggest claims that had been written off as conspiracy theories earlier. Covid-19 was allegedly just a bad case of flu, but the folks who paid attention learned about it as far back as in December 2019. (That r/collapse subreddit can be a bit sensationalist, but they called it, and they were correct.)

Mocking every single last unusual statement and calling them all baseless conspiracy theories is like permanently gluing a set of blinders on your own head. Sure, you won’t get distracted by all that pesky peripheral vision anymore, but you also won’t jump away when something comes at you from the side.

I will preface this by saying I’m not a right-winger. Right-wingers get mocked for all their conspiracy theories, but they were completely, absolutely, 100% correct in 2023-24 when they claimed that Biden was going senile, that the conspicuous lack of press conferences and public appearances meant his handlers and his cabinet members could not control him. Depending on how far in the future (ya lucky bastards) you’re reading this, you might not be able to find all the context or all the social media posts from that timeframe, but take my word for it: there was a lot of mockery, and there were a lot of otherwise respectable left-wingers inventing a million reasons for why nobody has seen the president of the United States of America in person in months. In many, many months.

Something unusual happened in the summer of 2024. Normally, the presidential debates start after both parties have their conventions. Not before. As the incumbent, Biden had his party’s nomination by default, because incumbents typically (though not always) win. That’s despite his 2020 promises that, if elected, he’d serve only one term. (That was in response to the concerns about his age: on the 2024 election day, Biden, just weeks shy of his 82nd birthday, was the oldest US president in history.)

The presidential debate between Biden and Trump was held on June 26, 2024. It did not go well for Biden: he stammered, he lost his train of thought, he sounded and appeared weak and confused. The news and the social media lit up: he was quite different from the way he appeared back in 2020. That was followed by a few media appearances and interviews, during which his cognitive decline became even more apparent. The party insiders panicked. The richest donors grew concerned.

With mere weeks to go until the Democratic Party’s convention in 2024, Biden was convinced to make an announcement: he would not run for a re-election (despite his assurance that he would run, just days earlier) and he endorsed his VP, Kamala Harris, instead. The rest was history: the party united around Harris, gave her the nomination, and then, less than three months later, she lost.

There’s been an awful lot of finger-pointing after the election, but nobody (that I have seen, at least) bothered to look back and ask one single question: was Harris involved in the massive, multi-year cover-up of Biden’s cognitive decline?

There’s not a lot of subtlety there: it’s a binary choice. Did she know, and did she participate in the cover-up? Or is there a plausible argument that she’d spent over a year without any personal content with Biden and his cabinet? If such an argument exists, then I have yet to hear it.

The 25th Amendment to the Constitution (ratified in 1967) accounts for this situation in section 4: if the president is no longer capable of doing their job, then a simple majority vote can transfer the president’s power to the VP. (The majority vote = the VP + most of the cabinet, or the VP + most of whomever the Congress designates instead of the cabinet.) Unfortunately, that provision doesn’t account for human empathy. It did not get invoked during Reagan’s second term, when the signs of his cognitive decline became apparent. It also did not get invoked during the year when Biden’s decline was concealed from the public – or even after his decline became apparent to the entire world.

In my book, as an American and as someone with a degree in political science (hey, I was into the 25th Amendment before it was cool!), if you participated in the cover-up of Biden’s cognitive decline, you should not be allowed anywhere near the halls of power. No taxpayer-funded salary, no elections, no consulting gigs. Shoo. Unfortunately, I don’t run the world, so they’ll all go on to enjoy nice and cushy lives.

If Harris did know about Biden’s decline, and if she was part of that cover-up (which is almost certain), then the unusual decision to hold the first presidential debate before the convention becomes a lot more interesting. There are two explanations. The first is hubris. The second is a deliberate tactical move.

If the extra-early debate was due to hubris, it’s possible – just possible – that Biden’s cabinet had decided that he could be medicated and motivated enough for just one public appearance, that he would crush the debate, and help dispel all doubts. (That did not happen.) The second, more cynical explanation, is that Harris’s allies within the cabinet were too afraid to go with the 25th Amendment option, so they deliberately staged the debate before the convention, which made Biden’s mental state apparent, and resulted in Harris winning the nomination less than two months later.

The irony here, of course, is if they hadn’t done that, if Biden had refused to do public appearances, if he’d gotten the party nomination by default (with Harris still as his VP), then he might have defeated Trump, and Harris would’ve just had to wait a bit until Biden died, or resigned, or got 25th-Amendement’ed out of office.

There was at least one conspiracy going on at the time – the cabinet’s year-long (if not longer) charade that Biden was still fully competent, going so far as to stage tightly scripted and orchestrated cabinet meetings where everyone knew their lines and parroted them off in front of cameras.

The election happened more than seven weeks ago. By now, there are probably quite a few tell-all memoirs from Biden’s cabinet making their way through the publishing pipeline. There’s a really good chance that Bob Woodward will publish his own book of insider info, just like he did about Trump’s mishandling of the pandemic – but months after that could’ve done any good. I expect most of those memoirs (especially Harris’s) to gloss over the topic of Biden’s mental decline. I expect at least one of those books to share ugly firsthand accounts of what Biden’s average day looked like, of how they hid him from the public each day, each week, each month…

Either way, the cash-grabbing, most likely ghost-written tell-all books will be ugly: they tell either too many lies or too much truth.

And, just like with Reagan, just like with Biden, just like with whomever else America will elect far past the mandatory retirement age for air traffic controllers (56) or airline pilots (60-65). Because we learn nothing. And because sometimes, just sometimes, conspiracy theories are true.

I’ve just bought the pricey ticket ($175 USD) for the desert shuttle that would take me from a tiny New Mexico town all the way to the Mexican border on the morning of Monday, April 28th, where I’ll begin my Continental Divide Trail adventure. The shuttle ticket also comes with five water caches every 20 miles because, you know, desert.

So close now… Only 126 days away. Not that I’m counting or anything. I still need to buy a one-way ticket from Quebec to Albuquerque (how is that for a mysterious itinerary? heh), where I’ll crash at an old friend’s place: a bunch of catching up and hanging out, then food-shopping and sending resupply packages to my future selves, and then a 4-hour buddy-buddy roadtrip to Lordsburg, woot! Spend the night there, hop on the shuttle at 6am, and spend a looong 3-hour intro sequence (video game-style) with other CDT adventurers as we all drive to the border. (Ironically, all so we could hike back to the town the shuttle leaves from.)

Most of the gear from my 2022 Pacific Crest Trail adventure is still good, even if the tent has a bit of a broken pole and looks mighty sad when it’s assembled. (Still functional, though!) The biggest expense thus far was the anti-bear Ursack, which allegedly keeps all the snacks away from the many, many bears along the trail. The riskiest part of the resupply will be shoes… I have flat feet, and the Altra Lone Peak shoes are the only ones that work for flat-footed hikers. (I learned that the hard way. Damn Merrell.) Problem is, Altra fell prey to the MBA brain rot, and the latest Lone Peak model has much worse quality: they’re still marketed as hiking shoes, but they seem to fall apart in less than 250 miles, as opposed to the 500+ miles like they used to. A friend of mine had to end his big recent thru-hike prematurely specifically because his new Altra Lone Peaks fell apart, and he couldn’t hike without injuring his foot…

I snagged two pairs of hiking boots by the same brand, so here is hoping they’ll be a bit more durable than the plain old shoes, eh.

All in all – assuming I find a good deal on my plane ticket – my transportation + supplies will cost me less than $1,000 USD. A great deal, considering I’d spent over $3K on all that stuff when I had to buy basically everything for my PCT hike three years ago. (I’d had some gear left over from my Search & Rescue days in Seattle, but that was for short outings, and not at all for long-term hiking. The compass was pretty much the only piece of that gear I ended up using.)

For a wide variety of reasons, I’ll also be technically homeless during my hike: gonna break my apartment lease by the end of April, sell my furniture, yeet the rest of the stuff into a storage unit, and save on five months of rent. (#lifehack, I know.) It’ll add yet another reason not to give up during the inevitable bad days because coming back would mean the long process of apartment-hunting and moving, and nobody enjoys that.

And so… 126 days. Just 18 weeks from now, I’ll be sleeping somewhere else. Somewhere distant. Somewhere goddamn adventurous. Can’t wait.

My big adventure this year was to find a literary agent for my debut time-travel novel. That quest led me down some mighty weird rabbit holes…

After polishing, re-polishing, and starting all over again with my query letter, I got the attention of seven literary agents. One requested a partial (the first 100 pages) but then politely declined. One agent requested the full manuscript (full MS) sort of declined, but said she’d be quite interested in reading a dystopian YA novel based on something I mentioned in my query. Four more requested the full MS during the summer/fall (it’s considered impolite to nudge until at least six months have passed), and earlier this week I received a very enthusiastic reply from a literary agent I’d queried in October. He too asked for the full MS.

Normally, there are two outcomes to a full MS request: either a “thanks but not thanks” or an offer of representation. That’s the holy grail for writers, and it sets off a whole new domino chain… (Still, it typically takes a couple of years for the actual book to get published.) This was my fifth pending full MS request, and – thus far – the most enthusiastic one. I expect to hear back from him within a month…

I had some time away from technology two days ago (horrible, I know!), so I sat down and outlined the final 40% of my dystopian Russian YA novel, and split that outline into 22 small-ish chapters. Knowing that the end is in sight makes the whole thing a lot less scary, and far more manageable. If I go ahead and at least try to write up one chapter per day (no matter how poorly), then huzzah – my first draft will be finished in just 3 weeks. I’ve been knocking out a chapter per day for the past two days (today’s total: 2,667 words!), and I rather like this sort of architect-style self-imposed framework. It doesn’t matter how clunky the outcome is, because the first draft’s job is not to be pretty – it’s merely to exist. To serve as the foundation. And after that, you just keep piling more stuff on top of it, and improving, and brainstorming…

And last but not least, during all my research on the publishing industry, I’ve learned something very peculiar. Turns out, you need the full MS when you’re shopping around your fiction novel, but you do not need that when you have a non-fiction book – such as, say, a memoir/exposé about my 11.5 years at Amazon. (If any agents are reading this, drop me a line!) I honestly had no idea this was how things were done in the non-fiction circles. This entire time, I thought you had to sit down, produce a full-length book, much like with fiction, and then go agent-hunting. I really wish I’d learned this sooner… But oh well. What matters is that, after a great deal of research, I’ve assembled a professional-looking book proposal for my Amazon book. It includes the introduction, the first chapter, my self-promotion plan (podcasts and newspapers and all), the outline, and a whole lot more.

Querying a whole new project while the previous project is still in the querying trenches almost feels like cheating, like taking a brand new sports car out for a test drive. (Vroom vroom!) A whole new slate of agents to email… So far, I’ve identified and contacted the eight agents who have the best sales record in the memoir category and the fastest turnaround time when replying to queries. If my non-fiction query letter sucks, at least I’ll find out right away, eh.

…this is all so wild. I finished writing my sci-fi novel less than a year ago, at the very end of December, and I never would’ve imagined that a) a bunch of actual agents would show interest, and b) one of them would request a spec novel based on my dystopian Russian childhood, and c) I’d start querying an Amazon memoir. Oh, and, of course, that I would become a festival-going filmmaker. (More on that soon.) Huh. All that, in less than a year. Life is so random and beautiful…

And now we wait… And write. And write some more.

A poem inspired by a meme

The moose was loose,
A daring ruse,
A prank that went too far.
“Man up and choose,
Me or the moose!”
She’d shouted from the car.
And look, perhaps it was the booze,
Or the December blues,
But I knew I had naught to lose
By letting the moose loose.

“Hope… Do not look down, my friend. Even in the darkest of times, there is always hope. Hope for a better day, hope for a new dawn. Or just hope for a good breakfast. You start small, then see what you can get.”

Covetous Shen, Diablo-3

—

“Subdue the regret. Dust yourself off, proceed. You’ll get it in the next life, where you don’t make mistakes. Do what you can with this one, while you’re alive.”

Disco Elysium

The most productive Comic Con day ever!

This is just a short note before I completely pass out after such a long and eventful day… My first-ever day at the New York Comic Con (NYCC).

I’m spending this whole week in New York, crashing on a good friend’s couch over in the Jamaica neighbourhood. The occasion is the annual Brooklyn SciFi Film Festival, but I will write more on that in a few days.

Today (Friday) was the only festival day without any live screenings (only a virtual one), so I went to NYCC, having bought the rare Friday pass much earlier in the week. (My overnight bus from Montreal had arrived much earlier than expected, so I spent an hour or so at an all-night diner, buying event tickets and planning my week, eh.)

I have neither the time nor the space to describe my NYCC experience in full detail. Suffice to say, it was quite amazing. There were some logistical issues that were a clear oversight on the organizers’ part, but pobody is nerfect.

My biggest event was the Pitchapalooza: 20 authors get picked to give a 1-minute pitch, followed by gentle critique. At the end, one author gets picked, and wins an introduction to an agent in their genre. I was surprised to see that pavilion was almost empty: in my imagination, hundreds of writers would have lined up for this opportunity – but nope, there were only about 20 of us altogether. Remarkable.

I delivered my best pitch and didn’t win, but I got some great feedback – and learned that I’m capable of delivering rapid-fire pitches in front of VIPs, with a microphone and a small crowd. (There were quite a few observers.) That was good to learn about myself.

Afterwards, much roaming, and admiring people’s beautiful and creative cosplay. As an introvert, I was hesitant about attending the NYCC networking event, but I’m glad I went. I had a chat with someone from a talent agency, and got his card, and will message him soon… He was in the market for voiceover talent (not my forte), but he did say his agency represents authors, too. This should be interesting.

Speaking of voiceovers: Jeff Hays, the most talented voiceover artist in the United States, said he’s okay with doing a small commission for one of my short films! This is so mindblowing that I still can’t quite process it. I need someone to read a short script in the voice of a famous historical figure, and no one alive would do a better job. This will be so, so, soooo much fun…

The “What we do in the shadows” presentation featured two episodes of their upcoming (and final) season, followed by the hilarious Q&A with the writers and most of the cast.

The Tor event afterwards was about the upcoming book releases and not about the publishing business – but hey, they gave out free advance copies of their novels, so that’s a win!

I also whispered a secret password to a certain artist, which resulted in me joining his henchman army – and getting a snazzy T-shirt!

I wasn’t cool enough to learn about special secret after-parties, but I found a tweet about one of them… And that’s how I ended the day by infiltrating thd meet-up of New York’s comic book creators – writers as well as artists. They were in the reserved section of a nearby spors bar: fun crowd. Made some new friends, got some interesting advice, had some beer… And managed not to fall asleep during the long subway ride back to Jamaica, huzzah!

I’m not sure I could’ve accomplished more today: this was about as efficient as a single day can get. I will absolutely make sure to come back again next year, if it falls on the same week as the Brooklyn film festival – but that’s a story for another time, eh.

Good night, y’all.

Saved a toddler’s life today.

There’s a daycare a block away from my apartment building. I was walking by there, early this morning, face buried in my phone (hey, we all have our vices), when suddenly… A woman’s scream. A running kid. The road.

I didn’t even think – or look behind me to see if the road was empty. I jumped in front of the kid, legs spread, arms wide, to stop the traffic from hitting him. We did not get hit.

His mother ran up a few seconds later, scooped him up, dragged him back to her SUV. Less than 10 seconds, from start to finish.

I often wonder what I’d do, how I’d react if I suddenly ended up in a life-or-death emergency. That’s not something you can test for, not something an online quiz can predict for you, not something you can simulate in a safe and cozy environment. Fight, flight, or freeze.

I’m still a bit shaken, even three hours later, and I’ve self-medicated with a few croissants (this being Quebec, after all) and an extra-early glass of wine. I’m glad I was there to jump in front of the kid, and I’m equally glad to learn how my body would react when something like this happens. (Specifically the body, not the mind: none of this is rational or carefully contemplated.)

One of my biggest heroes is Adam Attalla. It was 2022. He was 18. There was a house fire. Two kids were stuck on the roof, the third one trapped inside the burning house. People stared and pointed and did a whole lot of nothing. He ran into the house next door, then upstairs, through a window, onto the roof, jumped to the burning house’s roof, and saved all three of them. There were no casualties that day, no serious injuries. He had no training: just an average teen, but he did something heroic when everyone (especially the next-door neighbors, who were very much aware of the fire) stood still.

I’m not particularly eager to head into the next incarnation ahead of time (things are finally going great in this one!), but doing so while saving others is probably the most impactful, the most noble way to go. And now I know that I’m the kind of person who jumps into the middle of the road without a second thought to save a child… And that’s a damn nice thing to know about oneself.

My big goal for 2024 was to become a sci-fi creator – ideally a published author, but open to anything. One of those “anything” side quests led me to create a short film, “Please Don’t Send Help.” A few months ago, fueled by a spike of optimism (and a bit of boredom – let’s be honest here), I submitted it to a couple of film festivals, and, well… I’ve just found it’s been accepted by the Brooklyn SciFi Film Festival!

That film festival has been around for five years, it has 8,000 attendees, and it’s pretty selective when it comes to judging the submissions. This feels so unreal… The festival will take place in mid-October, less than a month from now: every film will be streamed online, but some will also be shown to the live audience in Brooklyn. I’m waiting for that update: if my film (all 2 minutes and 29 seconds of it) gets a live showing, I will be there – rubbing elbows, making friends, watching the audience watch my film, trying not to grin like an absolute maniac.

I’ve been riding the dopamine high from this announcement for quite a while now. My little film had cost me just $15 to make ($10 for the amazing voice actress + a 50% tip), though I did spend several weeks tinkering with it. And to have it accepted, and recognized – something I made with no film school experience of any kind – wow. Just… wow.

I played way too many video games growing up. (Some say I still play way too many video games.) Because of that, my overly competitive brain tends to view each and every hobby as a level progression, from 0 to 100. Everyone starts out at an absolute 0 in every skill, every hobby when they’re born, and eventually, through practice and hard work and luck, they level up. (A friend of mine is an amazing artist: she told me her parents encouraged her to draw since she was six months old, and she never stopped.)

When you apply that philosophy to filmmaking, level 100 would mean getting an Oscar. Level 1 would be pressing “record” on a camera and making a video of literally anything. I feel like this new development has propelled me somewhere around level 40, as far as this particular skill goes. There’s a lot more ground to cover, and I’m quite sure I’ll never reach level 100, but now I’m genuinely curious just how much farther I can take this, and how the world will view the rest of my ideas and my films.

Once I hear back from all the other festivals, I’ll post “Please Don’t Send Help” online for all y’all to enjoy as well – but it’ll be a few months. And now, I’m off to watch tutorials on making (and animating!) fun 3D objects in Houdini Apprentice for a particularly ambitious cut scene of my next short film. That should be interesting…

A strange thing happened the other day.

I was leaving a restroom at the end of a long isolated hallway in a shopping mall when I had an unusual encounter.

A quick aside: I’m tall, broad-shouldered (despite being skinny), usually have some stubble, wear a chain around my neck, a few steel rings, and dress in all black most days. I also like to walk fast. I’m no Amos Burton, but I can see how I might seem a little intimidating, which is why I generally try to paste a small smile on my face. (Which, come to think of it, is something Amos does as well. Damn.)

When I think I’m alone (for example, when I leave a restroom at the end of a long isolated hallway in a shopping mall), I have my resting Russian face on: neutral, serious, emotionless.

Now that I’ve painted you that quick mental picture… There I was, speed-walking through the long and dimly lit hallway, when someone stepped toward me from around the corner. The stranger was a short guy with a big belly, about 45. He glanced at me, and his instantaneous reaction was to flatten himself against the hallway wall – face to the wall, butt out. There was plenty of room for the both of us to pass each other without so much as a stray touch, but nope. Straight-up fear and panic.

I speed-walked past him without acknowledging him or making the already weird situation even weirder. Still, I’m curious what precisely he’d thought in that split-second before he decided to (unsuccessfully) merge with the wall, and what he thought afterwards. Did he regale his friends with tales of that terrifying encounter? Or perhaps that’s just a quirk of his, and that was an everyday experience? So many questions.

Unbiased and objective self-perception can be difficult. Objectively, I know I’m taller and hairier than most people – yet it always surprises me to realize I’m almost as tall as most doorways. I try to keep a peaceful half-smile on my face, and cross the street rather than walk behind women after dark, and generally try to be as non-threatening as possible. And then, of course, there are random encounters when I don’t have my mask on, and folks freak out. Not often, but often enough to make me wonder: what on earth do I look like to others when I’m just being myself?

I guess I’ll never really know.

Two new firsts

This is probably the inevitable side effect of having played way too many video games, but I tend to view life in terms of levels, scores, and achievements. Some achievements are quite common: you’ve devoured a dragon fruit, huzzah! But so have billions of other people. Other achievements, however…

This week, I have two rare first-time achievements, and they’re mighty fun.

First, I’ve officially become a published author! Not self-published, mind you: I’ve been selling my e-books on Kindle since 2011 or so. No, something I wrote appeared in an actual book, and I got paid for it, contract and all. This also happens to be my first short story sale! My story, “How to Prepare for Time Travelers in the Workplace,” has been published in a brand new time travel anthology, “Ruth and Ann’s Guide to Time Travel.” (Available wherever you buy your books online.)

This is… Somewhat unreal, eh. I’ve been low-key writing and trying, and finally I got it done. These days, there are more short story writers competing for fewer slots than, say, 70 years ago, during the pulp era. In terms of sheer competitiveness, this is a bit like Olympic gymnastics: if you watch videos of gold medalists from 80 or so years ago, today’s gymnasts (especially Simone Biles!) are basically superheroes compared to them. It’s fun to live in a world that’s advanced so much in just about every competitive field, but that also means we’re playing at a much higher difficulty level than the earlier generations.

In any case, huzzah – and here’s hoping I’ll manage to get more publication credits. Also, that short story takes place in the same universe as my thus-far-unagented sci-fi novel “Time Traveler’s Etiquette Guide.” With any luck, this will give me that extra bit of visibility that would attract an awesome literary agent. I’m trying multiple things at once, and I’m positive at least one of them will work.

The second fun new achievement is my interview on CBC radio! There’s a weekly meetup group for expats here in Quebec City, and it’s called Bla Bla Language Exchange. Not long ago, we got a visit from a radio journalist who conducted short interviews with some of us. Part of my interview made it into the final broadcast. I’ll never get used to the way my voice sounds on tape, but I suppose that’s a universal human experience, eh? Anyway, head over yonder to listen to the segment (it’s quite fun!) – my part starts at 9:45.

This year doesn’t have a grand hiking adventure (that’ll be in 2025!), but it does have a lot of mini-adventures, each of which is just as fascinating in its own little way. Here is to many, many more.