easter sunday

And so, He is Risen.

And by he, I mean the turkey I’m about to bake (that’s right, motherfuckers. Turkey on Easter – you don’t own me).

Also, I’m not entirely certain of the turkey’s gender. If I’ve misgendered you, gentle gobbler, I apologize.

Of course, we’re still searching for the giblets. I’m not sure why these turkeys we get seem to hide the giblets, but mostly, I just like saying the world giblets. It always feels like should involve the word tickling.

Tickling Giblets – the quintessential tier 3 Nineties alternative band.

Or, the start of a very enjoyable evening.

You know, whatever works.

Target: 500 words
Written: 226 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: Dead Until Dark, Charlaine Harris
Comics: Rat Queens v2 13-15, Rat Queens: Swamp Romp 1
Music: KUCI Ska Parade, Sublime

good friday

I’m not a Christian, because, well, religion is mostly bullshit. I don’t necessarily discount the idea of divinity or spirituality, but I always think of it like this:

If this being/entity/force/thing is omnipotent, all-encompassing and all-powerful (pervasive), then our ability to understand it is probably on par with an amoeba’s ability to comprehend particle physics.

Times a billion.

So anyone on earth claiming to know the mind of God, or whatever you want to call it, is utterly and completely full of shit. They are trying to either take your money or control your mind, or likely, both.

Let’s keep in mind that the primary drivers in many of the most horrific acts of humanity are rooted in religion.

As I think maybe Penn Gillette said (or at least, my recollection is that I heard him make the sentiment), a person is not a good person because they are doing what they are told.

They are a good person because they choose to do good things, and that has nothing to do with gods.

So, be good on this Friday, and all Fridays, because you’re choosing to do so, not because you’re scared of some boogeyman in the sky, or the afterlife, or whatever.

I guarantee the upper moral hand belongs with those who choose kindness, not those who have it foisted upon them.

Target: 500 words
Written: 595 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: Gregor The Overland, Suzanne Collins
Comics: Rat Queens v2 10-12, Rat Queens: Neon Static 1
Music: KROQ Weenie Roast, Sublime

tegan and sara, part deux

You know what? For only knowing a handful of songs, it was a pretty good show. They played well, good songs and the stage patter… well, I’m not sure if they were ever stand-up comics in their lives, but they do a hell of an impression. I’m not used to my rock stars being so quick-witted.

Plus, it’s nice to see a community coming together. I’m not gay myself, but I’d wager a large portion of the county’s local lesbian population was at the concert, singing and being generally nice to each other, save a pair of dental assistant twins who were screaming so obnoxiously that even the band told them to shut the fuck up.

Seriously. How obnoxious must you be where your screaming at a rock concert is a little too much, for everyone, including the band?

Anyway, despite that, it was a good feel, lots of love and probably complicated feelings about love lives and things going around. At least no one got married, but the fervor that people rushing the stage to donate money for guitar picks and set lists (going to charity), damn. I’ve never been that stoked over anything but the middle of great sex with a very hot woman (my wife, for the record).

Anyway, long story short. Good time. Worth the trip.

Target: 500 words
Written: 1741 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: Gregor The Overlander, Suzanne Collins
Comics: Rat Queens v2 6-9
Music: KooKoo, Debbie Harry

tegan and sara

I don’t know a lot of songs, but I’m about to learn, apparently.

We’re off to catch Tegan & Sara tonight, so hey, limits.

Limited time. Limited energy. I’m sure I’ll enjoy it, but mostly, I’d like to sleep.

Target: 500 words
Written: 499 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: Gregor The Overlander, Suzanne Collins
Comics: Rat Queens v2 3-5, Orc Dave 1
Music: Know Your Enemy, Green Day (I do - apathy and greed, consumerism and the overarching need to feed, feed, feed)

focusin’

I seem to slipping into the zone more easily this morning. Maybe it’s an illusion, but I killed my workout this morning, and focus seems to be top of the pops when I’m doing my morning work, my morning commute, as I would say.

Writing’s going well, I’m tuned in, tuned on, and the music flows through me without being a distraction, but a driver.

It’s nice. This doesn’t happen that often.

Maybe the funk is breaking. Hold on long enough and it will; all things pass, as they say, including the bad stuff.

Target: 500 words
Written: 365 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: The Art Of Non-Conformity, Chris Guillebeau
Comics: Rat Queens 15-16, Rat Queens v2 1-2
Music: Know-It-All, Alessia Cara (what can I say? I dig introvert anthems.)

stuck

Today, I am stuck. Every move, blocked. Every item, twisted.

Every step, stagger.

Today, my shoes are sodden with muck, sucking holes bearing downward into the mire.

It is as it always is, as it ever will be.

We are a death march.

Target: 500 words
Written: 587 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: The Art Of Non-Conformity, Chris Guillebeau
Comics: Rat Queens 11-14
Music: Knives Out, Radiohead

the day that got away

Nothing happened, but the groceries, therapy (not mine, I would never burden a poor healthcare employee with such destruction), and then dog walks.

And just like, poof.

The day is gone.

Target: 500 words
Written: 1751 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: The Art Of Non-Conformity, Chris Guillebeau
Comics: Rat Queens 8-10, Braga 1
Music: Kiss Me, Kiss Me, Kiss Me, The Cure (I'd kiss you)

dance good

My niece is a competitive dancer; she’s pretty darn good. I, on the other hand, do a passable white man at best.

I can sort of do the Carlton (and yes, I have a couple of favourite Tom Jones songs – probably the same ones as every other white boy).

I am a basic bitch.

But she is not. She is skilled to the point where maybe it could be a career. I’m not sure dancers make careers out of it for the cash, but rather, the love of the dance, the camaraderie, possibly even the travel.

And then, of course, a school. Teaching what can be taught to the willing and unwilling alike.

But it is the love of the thing that makes it worthwhile; it is a failure of our society not to reward the arts as it would any other profession. A dancer plays a role in society, with more love than some paper-pusher. It is refreshing to the soul, ours and the artist’s.

That’s worth something, is it not?

Target: 500 words
Written: 308 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: Dancing Barefoot, Wil Wheaton
Comics: Rat Queens 4-7
Music: Kiss Essentials, Kiss (judge not, sometimes, you just gotta eat some popcorn, plus God Gave Rock 'N' Roll To You is straight Tao)

saturday

After successfully ripping off both Matt Fraction and Night Vale yesterday, I think I’ll take it a bit easier today. Laundry. Writing. Reading. Maybe some special “me” time (video games, jerks), in between a trip to the grocery store and a dog walk.

It’s funny, because all of that seems so relaxing, and yet, I think what I’d really like to do is go back to bed for several hours and then laze out all day on the couch, only getting up to pee, eat and hopefully, fuck.

What else could a guy need?

Depression and exhaustion are motherfuckers.

Target: 500 words
Written: 301 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: Pride And Prejudice And Zombies, Jane Austen, probably
Comics: Rat Queens Preview 1, Rat Queens 1-3
Music: The King Of Limbs, Radiohead

lollobrigada

I like saying that. I know next to little about her, other than maybe she was gifted up top, but I think the best part is her name.

Lo-llo-bri-gah-dah.

Say it. It’s fun.

Loh-loh-brih-gah-daaaaah.

This has been traffic.

Target: 500 words
Written: 451 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: Pride And Prejudice And Zombies, Seth-Grahame-Smith, probably.
Comics: East Of West 44-45 (ending felt rushed, but still, so good)
Music: King James Version, Harvey Danger (I was all "a Harvey Danger album I've never heard?  What?"  Then I listened to it and knew every lyric, and started having flashbacks of listening to it after the bar, in headphones, full blast.  The words were the same, but the music was not what I remember.  It's amazing what the mind edits and what it retains.)