This will be my last post on BraveJournal.  I now have a personalized, custom blog that occupies the front of my web site at http://www.huntcole.com/

Over the next couple of days, I should have finished setting it up correctly and be back on a (much better) roll of posting and cursing and drinking! 

With some reservations, I should say I have enjoyed my time with BraveJournal (of course, they offer the ability to IMPORT your Blog entries from other journals, but they turned off the ability to EXPORT them.... Bastards!!!  *shaking fist again*).

I've honestly met some truly great friends here and I DO hope you will follow me just one link over to my new blog.  I promise plenty of parties, free food, gifts, and campaign promises that will quickly be forgotten once I assimilate you all under my totalitarian regimine! 

I mean...

Come on over to the new and improved Hunter Cole® Blog at http://www.huntcole.com/

Can't wait to see ya there

- Hunter

So, surfing around, I decided to take this "sex position" quiz.

You know I can't be like others and leave it at that.  I must provide my opinionated, bastardized view of this world in which we live.

First of all, the "next big thing" is, of course, Internet quizzes.  They have them all.  Not just the Sex Position one I have below, but they have everything from "What Pokemon Character Are You" to "What Psychological Dysfunction Are You".  From what kind of Fruit (actual food pyramid product there), to what kind of space alien are you.

Were I to make an Internet Quiz, it would be "What Kind of Internet Quiz Are You?" - Simply because there's more of them than there are optional "things" to be "quizzed" by.  Yes, I use "quotes" to show "exclamation" or "emphasis".  Hmmmm.

So what was the evolution of the Internet Quiz?  The Internet Blog!

Now, all across the entire expanse of dual-hemisphere blogging, there are links to pictures, text, and links to "This Is What kind of Whatever, I am.  How about you?"  It makes sense, I suppose.  Nothing like saying "Hey, I know more about Hunter because he answered a quiz and showed me the result".  As opposed to say...  Just telling your readers a bit about yourself?  Or letting them know more about you through your blog writing.  Again, I suppose the easy way out is to take the quiz, show the people your results, and assume "This is how I define myself."

Now I know you're probably scratching your head saying either 1)  "What an arrogant bastard - why is Hunter talking about this when he's also doing the same thing?"  OR  2)  "What an asshole - I have quizzes all over my blog and everyone loves me".

Yeah.  That's probably true, on both counts.  But I ain't looking for love, baby.  I'm here to give you the real world!  Cold, hard, and cruel.  I say it with a smile.  It may be sardonic, but I do what I can.

So, with all that said, I'm going to provide two things for you.  First, the standard "Here is my Blog Internet Quiz results."

The "What Sex Position Are You" Quiz:   http://www.selectsmart.com/FREE/select.php?client=Knowyouthree

I, Hunter, define myself as "The Cartwheel".  From this point on, I will assume that my entire identity can be understood by this.  When someone asks "How are you?"  I will say "I Am The Cartwheel".  It worked for the Beatles.  I didn't see "The Walrus" as a sex position, but I am only aware of my own, unique identity.  The Cartwheel.

Now, that's the "Standard Blog Entry" version.  The next section is my rambling, inner-reflection, (Gah, as much as I hate to use a term coined by yet another "Hunter", the S. Thompson one, I will say,) "Gonzo" style discussion:

Why am I the Cartwheel?  Based on my answers to this quiz, what makes me more of a Cartwheel than say, a 69er (although that came up as #2).  Or say, something safe and standard like Missionary?  Let's look at some of my answers... Okay, some are just standard, or questionable (I guess Republicans get Missionary.  Hmm.  I'm not sure, maybe they get an Orgy since they seem to fuck us all at once).  Is it because I'm ambitious?  Or because I say "Yes, I'm Kinky" and "I don't care what others think".  Or is it something more deniable, like I don't believe that true love only comes once, but I do believe that love is the best gift?  Or I wonder what the world is coming to and I don't have a hot temper.  Maybe because I'm laid back, easy going, and bounding the edges of what "Society" seems to have pegged as normal, I am instantly defined as The Cartwheel.

If you've read this far, and have expected there to be a point or direction to this post, I do apologize.  It's not as kinky as I should have made it, since it's about a sex position.  I didn't even discuss The Cartwheel.  So, honestly, to those of you who continue to read my blog routinely, all I can say is "I apologize, but I Am The Cartwheel."

An Open Letter To The People of Earth:

While I would like all of my posts, my novels, my letters, even my normal dialogue to contain more quips and quotes than quacks and quirks... I want my epitaph to be an epigram.  Something like... "Hunter Cole was a merry old soul who typed one line at a time.  Before being buried, and as he was carried, he finished the last few lines."

Anyway.  Before I get off on a tangent - as I am wont to do - I should state that this post, in my opinion, may contain themes, ideas, and emotions that are:  depressing, sad, anger, and oppression.  All done with sock puppets.  No, just kidding.  I'm really serious.  This is a "dark" post.  My super identity has been reborn as "The Dark Hunter".

My quandary, it seems, is that I made somewhat smooth sailing through the first 40,000 of my novel (if, by smooth sailing, you understand it to mean constantly taking on water and slowly sinking).

Things were going good.  My characters were happy, sexy, fun and inspiring.

Then...  What happened?  Now they're old, crockery, mean drunks.  Figuratively speaking, of course.  Although *I* am still inspired by the story, my characters seem to have gone fucking bonkers on me.  They're not funny, witty, or sexy.  They're being very, very difficult.

Sure, I threatened them.  "Look what happened to (mysterious character that was killed off with one fell swoop of my fingers on the guillotine-like keyboard)...  Is that what you want."  I waggled my eyebrows.  I shook my fist to the sky.  I got drunk and passed out in the ditch in front of their imaginative house.  It was pitiful.

So there we stand.  40,000.  And where's the romance?  Where's the erotica?  Although I haven't focused on anything of substance in my blog since... oh, the beginning.  I still consider myself an erotica writer.  With elements of comedy and sci-fi (sometimes).  But without romance, I don't find it funny, sexy, or ... well, I guess it IS still Sci-Fi.  But the sci-fi elements on their own aren't what interest people in the story.  They want witty, three-dimensional characters.  They want sexy, exciting love scenes.  They want inventive soliloquies delivered with passion by characters draped in elegance and smothered with irony.  Well, really, they just want sex.  And clever stuff in-between it.

Oh, woe, what is an author to do?  What can save the day.  Should I toss it aside in frustration like Nabokov - hey, this is my blog, I can liken myself to whoever I prefer! - only to pick it up at some point in the future and make it even better. 

Should I just WRITE THROUGH IT?  I seem to have been doing that, and that seems to be what got me to this point.  As I look over the past few pages, I think to myself "Blah".  I don't know about writing through it from here.

I believe that my plan is going along the lines of "I will start charting a better course, and start in with some excellent writing NOW...  Then when I go back over the story, I will rewrite ANY section that needs it to be more exciting, fun, and sexy."  That sounds easy enough, although I think it'll be a bit of work.

What about you?  Surely you've been here.  (Not you, the other Shirley).  Certainly you've discovered the secret to eternal life, only to say "Oh fuck!  That's not what I was looking for - I just wanted fun characters" and toss it aside.  Or...  Something more exciting?

So, let me know what you think...

And now...  The Choose-Your-Own-Hunter-Adventure!
Should he:
1.  Start writing with renewed vigor now and fix the rest on rewrite.
2.  Start rewriting now, in the hopes that by the time I fix the last sections it will gear up towards a climatic and dramatic and sexy/funny/sci-fi/sock puppet showdown ending!
3.  Get drunk and throw the figurative script in the proverbial trash can?
4.  Something entirely different!

-Hunter

A Useless, Rambling Post

[Note:  I have actually begun a handful of diatribes on a variety of topics that will greatly interest you!  However, tonight I've decided to just offer you a "Useless, Rambling Post"(tm)  For No Good Reason! - aren't those the best?]

Hi, I'm Hunter.

You may know me from such shows as "So You Wanna Be A Robot" and "Life In The Faster Lane!", or perhaps my epic campaign against Mutual of Omaha (I thought it had something to do with what they were putting in the beef).

Currently, as you will soon learn, I am walking through a Superconductor.  All around me are protons and neutrons and flying squirrels traveling at, or near, the speed of light.

Soon, they will smash into each other with the force of the Big Band (I'm doing my little finger quotes around that, if you watch on the monitor).  The Big Bang (with finger quotes again, said twice for emphasis).

If all goes well, it will create a miniature microcosm universe that will give us enough space for all future generations of greedy Earthlings to live and thrive.  Especially those of us in the United States, where the average person weighs about four times that of a typical Asian.

Speaking of Asians, if you look to the East.  No, the Far East, you will see the noodle factory.  I always wanted to work in the noodle factory, but I had problems getting my big hands in the tiny little grinders to pull out each grain of rice individually.  Rumor has it they are genetically engineering a superrace that is only 2 feet tall but has a sixteen foot wingspan.

Did I say Wingspan?  Why yes!  Because if you act now, you can fly on Ultrasonogramophobic Space Adventures(tm) where you and a party of up to eight of your friends (or randomly selected people we choose to sit you with) will fly through the outer cloud banks and straight into space!  That's right!  If you think it's cold in Wisconsin, wait until you see what happens when we put little Billy in the "Space Cowboy" chair on the wing.  And they said his MOM was frigid!

The problem with Cowboys and Indians is that, as we all know now (unless you were born after 1980 and went to public school) that it is incorrect.  While I don't think it should be changed to be politically correct (and socially denigrating) and use "Cowboys and Native Americans".  Instead, my plan is to use advanced digital film editing to change every Western to use true Indians (like Ghandi).  Nothing will be better than seeing those battles.  Just imagine those shootouts of wild, wild cowboys against the Satyagraha Indians.  Now that's good cinema.

Finally, that brings us around to Hollwood!  When Pulp Fiction came out, think of how many kids were influenced to a fulfilling life of gun-toting assassins drugged out on cocaine.  Pulp Fiction even offered education on how to inject adrenaline into your heart in case of an overdose.  What are kids learning now?  In school?  Hmmm.  I don't know.  I don't have any children.  Nor do I want any, thanks - I gave at the office.  Passing around children cats, free to a good home, sheesh.

My point is, the value of cinema as art on abject life can be a surprising, quality education.  This is not the time to say "Our children should not watch violence and sex at the movies, or in their video games".  Come on, that's just being naive.  Kids today have no chance living on the street, or crackhouse, without the education that the movies, cable, and video games can offer.  Sure, sure, your kids gonna be a lawyer, or President.  But the lawyer will need to have the knowledge to defend (or sentence to death!) their peers of the "crack ho" type.  As for the President.  Well, do I need to say more than to look at our most current example.  Movie education, violence, sex, and drugs are the key to the future generation!

Anyway, I've gone on for far too long and now the people that run this show are waving and screaming at me from off camera.  Some of them are making little slit throat movements with their fingers.  How cute is that?!  Until next time, I'm Hunter Cole, your host here in Fantasy Internet Land.  And I bid you adieu!

-Hunter

or, Why Hunter Hates Vampires.

Okay.  Okay.  It's easy enough fodder.  Or so you would think. 

And I'm not talking about Bela Lugosi as Dracula, or Max Schreck in Nosferatu... No, no, no...  The vampires I hate come way later.  And two words simply destroyed the concept of what Vampires are and turned them into something entirely different:

Anne Fucking Rice.

Yes, yes.  I know, she's all born again now and only does Jesus novels, or whatever.  That, however, does not offer atonement to what she did in the erotica crowd.  Anne Rice created this romanticized vision of vampires that changed the face of the undead disease forever.

In between gagging myself with a stake, I do appreciate that Anne Rice at least followed some rules of reality in her vampire stories - Vampires can't get erections.

Oh!  Now, wait.  Did you remember to tell all the FanFic and Erotica-Wannabe writers that?

VAMPIRES HAVE NO FUCKING BLOOD PUMPING THROUGH THEIR VEINS.  Or their dicks.  So... Here's my dialogue of what a vampire meets hot female would go:

VAMPIRE:   Ahhh, I cherish you, little one.  I've waited centuries... eons, even, for one like you to fulfill me.

CHEERLEADER:   Umm.... (smacking gum)  Yeah, so like... You wanna do it, or what?

VAMPIRE:  Ahh, my child, although I am verile in thought and wicked of tongue, my tallywacker carries no bone.  I am undead, you see...  So I have no blood that flows.

CHEERLEADER:   Ewwwwww.

So you see what I'm saying?   Here's some problems with Vampires:

• They are evil, vile, undead, diseased creatures of the night!
• They are UNDEAD.
• They have no blood running through their veins.  They don't bleed, they don't get hard.
• They are not "mortality challenge romantics"  They are FUCKING MONSTERS.
• They are not Tom Cruise and Brad Pitt... They are rotten carcases that long only to eat you (and not in a good way).

I don't know why I even bother sometimes.   I do long to read a decent Vampire story, but it would have to be exceptional for me to find an Anti-Hero vampire I like.   Sure, Kate Beckinsale in Underworld looked great in that tight leather outfit and cool demure.  But, ahem, she was a fucking undead monster.  She would kill me as quickly as look at me.

So what is the attraction to vampires?  ESPECIALLY homosexual male vampires?  I suppose that could reach back to ancient times when men used to sleep with men because they were intelligent and close.  But I honestly think it's just something that people jumped on the bandwagon and went the wrong fucking way.

I should say, despite all I have mentioned, I do like the "writing styles" of Poppy Z. Brite.  She nearly goes against everything I say and only seems to write about homosexual male vampires (none of which is a turn on for me) - but she has a great talent of blending language into novella poetry...  If only she would write something more accessible or sensible I would truly be impressed.

So, perhaps it's my fundamental principles.  I have always known Vampires, as legend, to be vile, evil, cursed and diseased creatures.  What the hell would I want to fuck one?   Could she be the succubi that attracts my foresaken heart?  Maybe.  But there aren't as many female Vamps (or Dhampirs) as there are male homosexual (or bi-sexual, but the point is moot since they really can't get an erection).  And that doesn't attract me.

I should say, before I get attacked for it, that I understand that "Vampires don't really exists."  and "It's creative license."    I'll tell you what you can do... FUCK CREATIVE LICENSE.  That's a bad excuse if I've ever heard one.   I do agree with creative license.  Hell, in my current story, I break most laws of natural physics.  But I pull it off by using a setting that's alien to everyone - because it came from my imagination. 

Vampires are built on over a hundred years of myth and legend.  And you can't mess with that, Tex.  So before you all write your comments here telling me that I don't know what I'm talking about (which, admittantly, the next day I review my journal and say "self, what the hell were you thinking?") - You cannot take what has become fact (even in myth) and break the codes.  Unless you're very, very good.

I mean, really good.  And I bet you aren't.  I bet you a drink you aren't - Prove me wrong, if you like.  Show me a vampire story that is exhilirating, necessary, and does not romanticize them as treasure sex toys.

(Hunter slumps over the keyboard now, foaming at the mouth, screaming from the confines of his padded cell):   They're fucking monsters!   They're monsters, they can't get hard!

... And the nurse gives me my shot, I feel fine.  I'm all under control.  Things are happy go daisy with thick green fields of fallow and folly...  I'll see you tomorrow, or the next day, or whenever you feel like visiting again.  Thanks for the ear, really.  I'll treasure it - I've already put it in a little box on the side of my bed.

-Hunter

Well, it's been a few days.  Sorry, friends and enemies.  I don't mean to neglect you.  At least not so blatently.

It's been a long and eventful weekend, so I thought I'd share some quick thanks:

• I'm thankful that Barbados has such a nice jail.
• I'm thankful that I only had to stay there one night, playing poker with Judge T.  Thanks Judge!  I'll keep that promise.
• I'm thankful for the cool breeze, the warm sun, and the all the hot nights.

Well, reality can be fickle.  But so can fantasy.  The best way to survive is to find someplace right along the edges and live life to the fullest.  Don't miss a moment.  Don't let a chance go by.  Don't be afraid.  Don't let someone intimidate you - if they don't think that you're hot shit, you better let them KNOW you are.  You better make an impression - for better or worse - and make sure they fucking remember it.

Now, for my NaNo story - things are great, my characters are set to go, the story's flying along, I know *everything*.  I just haven't found the time to sit down and write on it yet, and NaNo is just a couple days.  Tick tock.  Tick tock.  Awww fuck!   I better get to writing.

See you on the flip side.

-Hunter

After many secret meetings, midnight discussions, international survelliance, and at great expense, I bring you the information they don't want you to know!   How to take over the world.

[Editor's note:  Due to a mix-up in the Hunter Cole editing department, this article has been replaced with a wonderful holiday recipe.]

HOW TO TAKE OVER THE WORLD...
The politics of war.

Ingredients:
Hot Dogs
Hot Dog Rolls
Ketchup

Cook hot dogs as you would normally, on the stove or grill. Take the buns and, with CLEAN scissors or a knife, cut out little triangles on the top part facing out. When done, the bun will look like a mouth with the upper teeth showing. Place hot dogs inside the bun, then put on ketchup.

Honestly.  I don't want you thinking that YOU should have won the powerball or anything, because... Well, come on.  What would you have done?  You would have just blown through the money like MC Hammer on Fantasy Island (Stop!  Mercedes Time!)...  No.  You couldn't be trusted.

However, I purchased five tickets on Saturday afternoon.  As I filled out the little numbers using the correct No. 2 pencil and followed silently while I read outloud...  I could feel the powerball numbers in my bones.  I was floating through space and there were flashing neon signs that said "No Whammies" and "Big Money" and "Adult Movies XXX" .. eh... Anyway.  I felt like I really had some winners.

So I put my $5 bill down and like Jack Nicholson with a nervous tic I said "Gimme my powerball ticketssssss".   Then I hissed and snorted and tried to keep my left hand from jumping around and smacking this little old lady next to me.  I had wild eyes!  The smell of financial independence and freedom just around the corner.

The clerk gave me my tickets, somehow balancing the ashes on her cigarette the whole time - mesmerized I was.  I ran out the door, smashing it open with my shoulders.  I ran home and felt like Charlie from Willy Wonka - "Look Poppa, a gol-den tic-ket".  Of course, there were no old people hanging around my place.  Go figure, another quality joke wasted.

Patiently I waited.  Well, actually, I ended up passing out during the time they pulled the lucky numbers out of the magic hat.  When I awoke the next morning, I grabbed my ticket and loaded up to look at the numbers at the official powerball site...

No... no... Hmm.  Not that one.  Oh, close.  No.  Yes!  There's one.  But not the powerball.  Hmm.  That's it.

Amazing how that little ticket went from being worth $40 million to nothing!  Oh, the humanity!

Well, anyway, surfing around the site a little, I came across their lottery "frequency" numbers.  Yes, they actually have this one their site back from 1997.  And lo and behold - two of the numbers I picked have only appeared 4 times since 1997.  Yes.  That's right.

So what do we learn from this?  Aside from the fact that I was, apparently, wrong with my money-winning instincts?  No, it's not "Hunter can't pick fucking numbers."

I just would like to point out, that according to the Powerball frequency page, the numbers I picked have a rarer chance of coming up all together than my odds of hitting the actual powerball.  So, take THAT!   I may not have the money, Mr. Powerball Man!  But I did a better job at picking the numbers than YOU did.  (Here you can't see, but I'm shaking my fist with the worthless ticket in my hand at the roof and screaming up at the sky).

-Hunter

No, I'm just kidding.  I don't do mescaline.  I know you guys at the FBI have had my journal bookmarked since its inception.  I know the local Sherrif is chewing on a toothpick, computer screen reflecting in his ray-ban sunglasses, hiding his beady little eyes...  If I had a boss, he would be foaming at the mouth reading this stuff.

But honestly, it's hard to support a mescaline habit, cocaine, AND cases of Maker's Mark when I'm unemployed.  Oh?  Did I say unemployed... I meant.. Hmm.  Financially viable, yet, independent of working class society.

I learned that in one of those "I Wanna Be A Lawyer When I Grow Up" books.  The ones that give you the low-down early on things like how to screw your friends, how to lie, and how to present yourself as America's sweetheart.  I can't help but think I took a wrong turn somewhere in life and ended up flying down the cliff-edged roads, racing along with James Dean, a fifth of whiskey in my hand and one lying empty in the backseat, rushing toward that curve and living fast!

Yet!  I think I'll make it.  Of course, I'm sure that's what Jim said too.  But hey, if you go fast enough you just might not see what hits you and then there's no need to worry about it.  Right?

Speaking of going fast (check that out for a nice little concept reversal) I've broken 36k on my story and NaNoMoFo!  I've excited.  It's been a little bit of a rocky section, but like I said earlier - kill off some of your characters and things go great.  So what I'm thinking is that Sex and Violence really do make great stories that people want to read.

For example, how 'bout Shakespear - you know the fruity looking dude that wrote all the Sonnets we had to remember in school (well, you did - I was smoking in the bathroom).  Well, Romeo and Juliet.  What's that have?  Fueding families right out of Jerry Springer ("I ain't gittin' wif yo' momma anymore, you can'ts has my dotters hand im murrage." *chair throw*).  Star-crossed lovers.  Soul mates, if you will.  And after bringing us to that lofty, lovely place, what does the greatest writer in the world do?

He fucking kills BOTH of them.

So, yeah.  If you can pull that off, you've got a winner.  I'm not willing to kill off my main characters, but don't mock the death scenes - like Psycho, they're some of the best and most memorable sections of your story.

I'll be here tomorrow unless they catch me!

So, apparently my subtleness of the post on "Why I don't have any friends" wasn't in your face enough.  Okay, that's cool.  I can do that.

So - Anyone want me to add them to my friends list?  Being a friend comes with a great deal of responsibility and exciting consolation prizes:

• Friends of Hunter add him to their own, much more successful site.
• Friends of Hunter are encouraged to drop his name to important figures - if you can manage to get into your mayor's office, govenor's mansion, or celebrity penthouse, be sure to casually mention the fact that "Hunter has a wonderful Yacht, but it's in the shop".  Or "Hunter was too busy to be here today."
• Friends of Hunter may refer to him as "Mr. Cole", "Captain", or "The Supreme One".
• Friends of Hunter often feel compelled to send him gifts.
• Friends of Hunter are there for his emotional support.
• Friends of Hunter do not need any emotional support (what are you, panzies?)
• Friends of Hunter have his new website address (http://www.huntcole.com/) tattood on their forehead (or other body part seen by a lot of people... hmm.  You know who you are.)
• Friends of Hunter are ready to offer him a place to stay, indefinitely when he shows up in the middle of the night.
• Friends of Hunter are designated drivers.
• Friends of Hunter are probably the first 20 people that let me know they want to be placed in the little box here.  Unless the friends of Hunter AFTER 20 want to pay for extra links.
• Friends of Hunter can't be wrong!

So there you have it.  I've been able to start three paragraphs with "So."   Is that impressive, or what?

I have a new address for my website to make it all official:  http://www.huntcole.com/   Short and sweet.  My site was designed by Writer Webs (http://www.writerwebs.com/) and if you're an author looking to get a site it's a good place to go.  They're holding my bunny hostage until at least 10 of you sign up.  Oh, the humanity.