You can buy Philip K. Dick: Remembering Firebright on Amazon.
https://www.amazon.com/Philip-K-Dick-Remembering-Firebright/dp/1442110279/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1526674285&sr=8-1&keywords=tessa+dick+firebright
You can also buy my more recent book Conversations with Philip K. Dick.
https://www.amazon.com/Conversations-Philip-K-Dick-Tessa/dp/1974534898/ref=pd_sbs_14_2?_encoding=UTF8&pd_rd_i=1974534898&pd_rd_r=5KPSKF8BBRDTA4WZ2HVZ&pd_rd_w=nxd3S&pd_rd_wg=d7mKM&psc=1&refRID=5KPSKF8BBRDTA4WZ2HVZ
Thank you for your support!
Philip K. Dick left this world in 1982. This blog talks about my work, as well as his, and it includes notes on my memoirs about our ten years together. Reality is not what it seems to be. Just read a Philip K. Dick novel, and you'll understand what that means.
Buy Me a Coffee
https://www.buymeacoffee.com/kittiescatu
Friday, May 18, 2018
Thursday, May 17, 2018
Another excerpt from Firebright
Our
first apartment was haunted, according to the girls who had lived
there as roommates before we rented it. They had conducted an
exorcism after a chandelier fell to the floor, barely missing one of
them. Apparently, that ritual had failed. Unusual noises seemed to
emanate from the air conditioner when it was not running. One of the
bedrooms had a dense, swampy atmosphere. The other bedroom, which
was right next to it and had the same northern exposure and
ventilation, seemed fine. The haunted bedroom felt like a place
where someone had died and left behind an atmosphere of depression,
along with a musty odor. At first we paid no attention to the
ghostly phenomena.
Rumors
were spreading among science fiction fans, at least those who had
heard of Phil, that his brains were burned out from drugs and that he
hadn’t written anything in years. Actually, Phil had written quite
a lot, but it hadn’t been published yet. His novels often came out
several years after he wrote them. He decided to attend the L.A. Con
(World Science Fiction Convention in Los Angeles), despite his
phobias, in an attempt to dispel the rumors that had been spreading
since his stay at a drug rehabilitation center in Canada. The
convention took place over three days during the Labor Day weekend in
September 1972. It wore me out and used up all of our money. We
didn’t even have enough money to attend the awards banquet. But we
did meet a lady who turned out to be a very good friend. Her name
badge read “Linda Wofle”, but her last name was really Wolfe.
The typist had made a mistake. We used to call her Linda Waffle,
affectionately. She had come to the convention on a whim when her
husband asked her to get out of the house for a few hours so he could
rehearse his role in a play. She and her husband were both actors.
Linda and I got trapped inside the restroom by an enormous woman who
insisted upon telling us all about her illnesses and injuries, as
well as her membership in the Dracula Society, so we missed Phil’s
speech. Fortunately, somebody taped it, so we got to hear it later.
It was about how crabgrass and the telephone company were taking over
the universe, as well as the difference between androids and humans.
Despite the surface humor, Phil’s speech was quite serious.
Phil
used to tell people that I had “karate-kicked” David Gerrold at
the World Con. That is not exactly what happened. We were standing
near the booth that was selling “Tribbles”, amorphous blobs of
stuffed faux fur, based on the Star
Trek episode that
David Gerrold had written, “The Trouble with Tribbles”. While
Phil was buying a Tribble for me, David Gerrold sneaked up behind me
and grabbed me. I had no idea who he was or what he was up to, but I
did feel uncomfortable. Almost as a reflex, I kicked him in the shin
and pulled myself free.
The
convention took away all of my energy. It was the first time that I
ever attended any kind of convention, and it was the first time that
I ever stayed in a hotel. All the booths, exhibits and conferences
were overwhelming. For two nights in a row, we were up past midnight
and out of bed before seven. The days were filled with non-stop
action, walking around, talking to people, taking in all the sights
and sounds. Editors urged Phil to write novels for them, freelance
magazine writers begged him for interviews and an occasional fan
questioned whether he really was Philip K. Dick, or just an impostor.
The high point came when someone told Phil that Catherine Moore
wanted to meet him. Even though I had no idea who she was, I could
tell by Phil’s reaction that she was somebody important. He spoke
to that grand lady for a few minutes in the hallway, while she
explained that this was her last convention. Since the death of her
first husband, she had remarried and her new husband wanted nothing
to do with “that science fiction crap”. Phil explained to me
later that the husband-and-wife team of C.L. Moore and Henry Kuttner
had written some of the classic science fiction novels and stories.
Tuesday, May 15, 2018
Excerpt from Firebright
Here's a selection from my memoir Philip K. Dick: Remembering Firebright.
Phil
had been renting a room from a student at Cal State Fullerton, but
when I agreed to move in with him, he rented an apartment for us. We
had two bedrooms furnished in 1960s maple with several shades of
orange upholstery. The furniture, which came with the apartment,
didn’t matter to us, except for the lumpy mattresses on the beds.
We were happy, and visitors came almost every evening to sit around
and talk over coffee and wine. Phil was constantly trying to figure
out who had “hit” his house in San Rafael on November 17, 1971.
I met a woman who had seen the devastation after the bizarre
burglary, and she showed me a photograph of Phil’s office with a
mess of papers all over the floor. She also confirmed that somebody
had used explosives to open his fireproof file cabinet, even though
it wasn’t locked. Somebody had broken into the house while Phil
was stuck on the side of the road with a broken-down car that had
been sabotaged. This became a scene in his novel A
Scanner Darkly, with
some modifications.
Phil
also wanted to know what motivated the Nazis. In particular, he
speculated about Hitler’s madness – was it caused by drugs, or
demons, or what? He was struggling to write the sequel to his Hugo
Award-winning novel The
Man in the High Castle,
which would present an alternate universe in which Nazi Germany had
conquered the East Coast of the United States, while Japan ruled the
West Coast and a no-man’s land spread across the Midwest. He never
wrote that sequel because the Nazis horrified him so much. The more
he learned about them, the more he balked at writing the book.
He
feared and suspected that the United States was becoming too much
like Nazi Germany. We could see signs of the growing police state
all around us, fed by the War on Drugs and fueled by racist attitudes
against African Americans and Mexican Americans. He was convinced
that the hit on his house, no matter who had done it, was motivated
by illegal drugs. That is, somebody thought that he had illegal
drugs in his house and was trying to retrieve them. Around that
time, someone had stolen a hazardous substance from a nearby military
base, and rumor had it that the substance was a form of biological
warfare that caused hallucinations. A strange drug called “mellow
jello”, a gelatin-like mind altering substance that had to be kept
refrigerated, was circulating in the Bay Area. The heroin sold on
the street had been contaminated, and junkies were dying. Rumor had
it that the CIA had deliberately distributed the contaminated heroin.
And Phil suspected that a bitter ex-wife might have told somebody
that he had lots of drugs in his house.
So
perhaps the authorities were trying to retrieve a hazardous
substance, or to arrest Phil as a major drug dealer. Alternatively,
drug addicts or dealers might have hoped to “score” by breaking
into Phil’s house. They had dumped out the contents of his
refrigerator, taken stacks of bank statements and boxes of blank
checks, and made a mess throughout the house by spreading some kind
of white powder all over the carpet. It looked like the work of
insane people.
Thoughts on Blade Runner
The 1982 film Bladerunner flopped when it opened in theatres, but various hands have permutated the original into about half a dozen versions available on DVD and BluRay, with bonus material and such. After 35 years, director Ridley Scott produced a sequel directed by the French-Canadian auteur Denis Villeneuve. It flopped in theatres, albeit not as badly as the first film.
I did not like the first film, but I did appreciate the greatness of Rutger Hauer's death scene at the climax. I do like the later versions with the contrived happy ending deleted.
I like the new film, Blade Runner 2049, despite its many flaws. I see plot holes and problems with the story, as well as a conflict between the first two hours of artistic exposition and the last half hour of violent action.
Learn more about my thoughts in an interview this evening on Blogtalk, hosted by Karl Kaefer. The show starts at 5 P.M. Pacific, 8P.M. Eastern, and you can watch it later, as an archived show, through the same link.
http://www.blogtalkradio.com/ksdadradio/2018/05/16/karl-kaefer-presents-phillip-k-dick-1-tessa-dick
Learn even more when my next book is published.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Need legal help, debt, mortgage servicing
I am 70 years old and on a fixed income. I am barely getting by. Select Portfolio Servicing is demanding payment of an "escrow shortage...
-
The Mars Time-Project, by Anthony N. Fucilla Published 2019 by arima publishing www.arimapublishing.com Life on terraformed Mars is not e...
-
The author of the following review kindly gave me permission to reprint it here: Dear Tessa, Here's my Amazon review of FIREBRIGHT...
-
This little fantasy presents an ordinary dragon who suffers under the domination of a nagging wife. This is only the first part of the stor...