Light in the Bushel No. 1 -- Summer 1985
My Horoscope

That's a Photo of Ye Ed atop page 1. I included it so that I can be recognized at cons. Seriously, I do hope to forestall being welcomed as a fresh new face on the fannish scene; after all, I was cranking out mildly well-received fanzines a shade over a decade ago. (It's tiring to be recognized at cons only by people who preface their every remark with declarations like, "Yeah, I gafiated a little over five years ago...") The time to do a grand Tenth Annish of my old title came and passed me by. I would periodically begin assembling material for a new issue, but lethargy, commitments, and distractions in general would get in the way. Married life is like that, I guess.

Actually, married life--or the lack of a reasonable facsimile--explains why I'm starting from scratch to rebuild a fanzine I'd already written and laid out. I don't want to mail out an issue full of amiable lies about my home life, after all.

As some of you may already have heard, my steady girl and I decided to get married in Fort Worth while on our way back from Denvention, by a drowsy justice of the peace whom we rousted out of his office in mid-afternoon. Nearly four years later, I'm still working as a reporter for the local CBS affiliate; the missus is assistant news editor at a Gannet newspaper; and the justice of the peace is a process server. His Honor got booted off the bench by the voters, so he's no longer in the marriage business ... and for reasons too complicated to go into right now ... neither are we.


"...Things have changed since I was a boy here, a childsoldier myself, when I swapped my eyes for the killing laser-irises and learnt to inflict the whirling-death on cities..."

-- Sowtaw Sucharitkul, a generally more graceful writer, in "The Comet That Cried for Its Mother"

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