The Fezziwig News by Stu Jenks

All 8 1/2" x 11" A/P archival pigment prints by Stu Jenks for $25, shipping, handling and taxes included...

Image: "Queen Esther Baptist Church, Lancaster, Virginia" (c) 2011 Stu Jenks (Just down River Road from Victoria's house. Love that luscious red carpet. And for you nocturnals out there, it was handheld. Rare for me.)

In this time of making photos on iPhones and Macbook Pros and only looking on screens, I forget I'm a old-school guy. I make a 8 1/2 x 11 work print on archival paper of EVERY image I make. EVERY one. It's the only way, for me, to accurately check for color shift, density, composition, etc. I really like my iPad screen but it's no way to make a good print.

And I have hundreds, if not thousands, of work prints artist proofs at my studio.

If you see an image of mine on The StuBlog or on my old website or on the Fezziwig Press Store or in any of my books, there's a beautiful small print in a box somewhere, perhaps with your name on it. And since I'm organized, I can find it.

Many of you can't afford my larger prints. I understand. I don't have an extra 50 or 100 lying around either. But I do have an extra $20 for stuff I really like.

So if you see an image of mine on any of my sites or in any of my books and you want it, it's yours for $25, shipping, handling and tax included. (I believe in paying taxes, sales and otherwise.)

Just email me at my facebook page or through the StuBlog or at stujenks@gmail.com, and tell me what print you would like or just pull the jpeg and send that to me.

I was just watching the Tarhells lose today in basketball, working on images at my computer when I thought, 'I bet people don't realize I have boxes of work prints here.'

You all do now.

Love and light,

Stu

p.s. Ignore the catagories belows. The computer went wacky. Another reason why I prefer a print in the hand as opposed to an image in The Cloud.

Back to work on 'Dementia Reds'

On the advice of counsel, (that counsel being Mary Ann Harris and Charles de Lint), I'm letting the novel sit for a while before I go back to revise, edit and fix it. Charles suggested to start another novel. Good idea. I have another novel in mind, but instead I'm going back to a book I put down while I was writing the novel: Dementia Reds, the memoir documenting my mother's final journey into dementia and death, and my sister's succumbing to her breast cancer. I left the book after I had written two funerals but not the third. Just glancing at the document now, I really don't have much more to write. (Fingers crossed. I said the same thing about the novel.)

I left Dementia Reds in the Fall of 2011 for a lot of reasons. I was still pretty angry at some people in Virginia and North Carolina, I was in the midst of selling the tear-down house in Raleigh, and there was that pesky novel and all its characters running around in my head. But now, I need for the novel to steep, like a pot of Earl Gray. And I'm not so mad at the vultures and the overly-righteous from my ancestral South. I mostly just miss the hell out of my sister Pamela.

So thanks, Charles and Mary Ann. I hear your counsel. Oh, and on a business note, Dementia Blues is my only book that's selling. Give the people what they want. To buy.

Love and light,

Stu.

p.s. The above image was taken while Pamela was still alive, when I visited her near the end of her life. I got a sweet free upgrade on that rental car, receiving a hot red Mustang from Enterprise. Pamela and I had fun, punching it hard on the Beltline on our way to chemo. And below are pics of my sister and mother when they were young and healthy.

...The first draft of the novel is done!!!...

The first draft of the novel is done!!! It came in at 149,000 words, 552 pages in my document. Yeaaaa! I can't tell you how good it feels. The ending made me cry, as I hope it does you. (Last word in the novel, which won't change in revision: Sighs.) I want to jump right back to the beginning and start revisions, but Mary Ann suggests I take more than just a couple days off. OK. I'll take off three or four days. LOL. But then it's fixing this and revising that, then off to the editors. And I have ideas for the next novel in this series, too. I have some pretty great characters, I think, and I want to see what they will do next. But first things first. Get this novel to print.

One serious note: It took about a year to write this novel, but it almost didn't get done. With Mary and Pamela dying and all, I didn't work on it for about six weeks and it was so hard to get my momentum back. But I did. But it was difficult. If you are working on a novel or a large work, I recommend you plow through, even if the field is frozen. I've been told I'm very lucky to have gotten back on track.

Speaking of track, good luck to Danica Patrick tomorrow in the Daytona 500 and in the rest of Sprint Cup and Nationwide races this season. I might just have to go up to PHX next Saturday to watch her race.

By the way, did I mention I finished the freaking first draft of the novel?

Yeaaaaaaaaa!

"The Ferro Avenue Angel"

"The Ferro Avenue Angel, Tucson, Arizona" (c) 1997, 2012 Stu Jenks

"Santa Rosa Cemetary"

"Santa Rosa Cemetary, Tohono O'Odam Reservation, Arizona" (c) 2012 Stu Jenks

"Christmas Haiku #26"

"Christmas Haiku #26" and "Ancient Ornament" (c) 2011 Stu Jenks

The Image in this post is of my family oldest Christmas ornament, at least from what I think Mom told me years ago. Was in her family long before she was born. Probably circa 1890, but I'm not really sure.

It hangs in front of me now from the bookcase key of my secretary desk. It delights me and saddens me. I miss my family, primarily my sister.

Pamela wrapped a small gift for me, 11 months ago, when she knew she was dying. The gift sits under my Christmas stick tonight.

Happy and sad, all at the same time.

And it's time for the Christmas Haiku.

Enjoy a bit of the nog this season, and have yourself a Merry little Christmas.

Christmas Haiku #26 by Stu Jenks

Deaths and injuries:

Empty spaces where they were.

But it's still Christmas.

Happy Halloween & Happy Birthday

"Wrightston Fog, Arizona" (c) 2011 Stu Jenks

Happy Halloween and Happy Birthday to Mary Jenks. She would have been 85 years old today, but she died on July 7th.

Rest in peace, Mom. Maybe I'll see you floating above the streets tonight, or maybe I'll feel your spirit in the days and nights to come.

Know that you were loved, Mary.

"To The East, God & Humanness..."

Coming to the top of a graveyard bench, in a cemetery probably not near you. (except for y'all, Glenn & Brad.)

P.S. We caught the typo in 'Courage', so don't worry.

P.P.S. In Jackson, Tenn. right now. Plan on taking some blue highways to Memphis today.

"Adios, Amherst"

"Adios, Amherst" (c) 2011 Stu Jenks

During this journey of selling The Old Home Place, I've dealt with some of this nicest people as well as some of the most despicable. Truly evil fucks I tell you. But the young man who will be living in the Amherst House will share it with his two year old daughter and will put my ancestral home back in tip top shape. Frank (not his real name) is one of the nicest people I've met in this journey. However, his father, a very very bad man, who bought Frank this house and his father's realtor, a true witch of a woman, made my last two days before closing a clusterfuck of greed, lies and selfishness. Happily, the sins of the father did not fall onto the son. And the female agent has a special room in Hell reserved just for her.

But if one thing the recent greedy behaviors of others has taught me, once again, is all that really matters is giving love, kindness and compassion to our friends, our families, our lovers, our co-workers and yes, even to our evil fucks who cross our paths from time to time.

Money is fleeting but love is eternal.

So on the road I go in the morning. To parts west, where I'll break bread with old friends and perhaps share a cup of Joe with new ones.

And finally, returning to my desert home, where the Sun turns the sky orange at dawn and Mourning Doves announce the beginning of the day.

"Manns Chapel, Chatham County, North Carolina"

"Manns Chapel, Chatham County, North Carolina" (c) 2011 Stu Jenks

Off to Raleigh tomorrow, one last time. (I've taken the 12:45 Delta from Tucson to Atlanta so many times in the past few months, I expect the flight attendents to say "Hello, Mr. Jenks. How are you?")

I'm renting a Penske truck on Tuesday, loading up the last of Pamela's things to bring them here to Tucson (A nice blond-wood work table, a huge chest-of-drawers, Pamela's old single bed from when she was a kid, and Mama Lillie's secretary desk I inherited in 1983, but had no way to get it out here. And some Christmas presents my sister wrapped before she died. Sweet of her, eh?)

And on Wednesday, I am closing on the Amherst house. Very sad but not for the reasons you might think. Since my father and mother did no maintenance on the house at all, basically letting my sister live in an old damp, moldy house, rent-free, for 20 plus years, The Amherst House, which would have been worth $250,000 or more on the recovering real estate market of Raleigh is now being sold for $110,000, as a tear-down. The man who is buying the home says he's going to fix it up but I don't quite believe him. (He has made plans to cut down all the trees on the property. That sounds like a tear-down to me. The land is worth $100,000 so he's getting a piece-of-crap Cape Cod for $10,000.)

Speaking of trees, the one bugaboo left to do is I have to get rid of the firewood in the basement. Some nice people from Pamela's church in Raleigh have taken some of it, but I have to dispose of the rest, before closing on Wednesday. I'm hoping the Wake County dump will take the logs but they may not. No one on Craiglist wants them, and that poor church in South Raleigh can't use them either. So I may just have to take the firewood back to the woods, unloading it along a nice piece of river.

I kind of hope I get arrested.

"Stu Jenks, artist and photographer from Tucson, Arizona, was arrested today for putting wood back into the woods. Reports are that Jenks laughed hysterically as the sheriff slapped on the handcuffs. It is uncertain if he was intoxicated at the time."

So I'll be away for about ten days. I'm taking my Rollei with me and some Christmas lights too, to perhaps do some hoop dancing photography in the moonlight. I am driving across some pretty country, don't you know? And if you want to buy the image rights of something, or a hardbound book, you'll have to wait until I get home. Then again, some of my books are on the IPad now. Hint, hint. But no worries. Just letting you all know I'll gone for a while.

OK. I should stop writing now. I really should. I really really should. But I'm not.

On a book note, I am writing a conclusion to Dementia Blues, called Dementia Red, telling the stories of Pamela and Mary Jenks' last days and weeks. With photos too.

And to those of you in Virginia who needed to ambush me at my sister and mother's burials, to tell me how you didn't like Dementia Blues (You know who you are), I guess you forgot I make a very small living writing things as well as photographing things. And eventhough I'm getting a little demented now myself, my memory is still pretty good. I'll be changing your names and the places in Dementia Red, but I won't be changing your words.

Oh, and shame on you for what you did to me, that rainy afternoon, and shame on you for what you did to my mother, three years ago.

Shame.

And as one of you jerks mockingly said to me that day in The Northern Neck,

"Oh, Stu, you aren't suffering financially."

Yea, I am. In a few ways, financials just being one.

I'm not getting much cash from these two estates. Pamela didn't have a pot to piss in, nor a window to throw it out of, and we had almost gone through all of Mary's money taking care of her here in Tucson before she died, with the expensive adult care home and all.

But I am grateful that there is some cash in the estates and in the sale of the Raleigh House; to pay all the heirs and debts of my mother (but sadly, many of Pamela's hospital bills will go unpaid); to pay for two nice gravestones for my mother and sister; to pay for the plane tickets and motels and the Penske truck and the rental cars these past few months; to pay for the storage locker here in Tucson; to have a little to give to some people who are in need; and to have some cash for me to get out of credit card debt at the end of all this; but I am not getting rich off of the death of my family.

So, to you Rich White Trash in Virginia, two words. Fuck you.

And even though I don't miss my mother very much, I do miss Pamela a lot. I feel a lot of compassion for her journey through life. She never got away from my crazy family. I did. And Pamela died way ahead of her time. Sure, she shares responsibility for her life, but my mother, on numerous occasions, told my sister, "...you aren't pretty enough to ever get married, Pam..."

Pamela was over 200 pounds when she died, and she never married.

Be careful what you say to your children. One hurtful statement probably won't fuck them up. A couple dozen times probably will.

I miss you Sis. Thanks for being a nicer person the last six months of your life. I truly wish I could call you on the phone and tell you what those horrible people at Mary's old church said to me after I buried you all. I wish I could say, "You were right, Pamela. You were so right."

And I do believe I feel your spirit these days, but it isn't the same as hearing you cuss like a sailor and hearing you laugh like a crazy person. I miss that.

Big hug and kiss, Pamela. Know that I love you. I hope I'm doing right by you.

And Mary, may the light of God always shine on you. I feel blessed that your dementia made you into a sweeter Mom. Mostly. And most people are loving you in Dementia Blues. You are a bit of a superstar, Mom.

OK, enough jokes and resentments. I need to finish packing.

See you all when I get home, and maybe I'll see a few of you on the road.

Look for a small Penske truck with firewood falling out its back and the police chasing it.

That'll be me.