Month: July 2024

the cursing cursor

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It stares at me. Dares me. Five drafts down, and still shit.

Maybe it will never be else.

Just a pile of runny diarrhea, not even kind enough to be cohesive, splattered on the floor.

How long is ten thousand hours?

Can I training myself in the art of creating shit?

The art of defecation on the page?

These are the questions that spit at me in the mornings.

Are you nothing more than a diarrhea factory? Leaky housing for liquid shit?

Ain’t I hot?

Target: 800 words
Written: 374 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: The Adventures of Captain Hatteras, Jules Verne
Comics: The Crow: Wild Justice 1-3, The Crow: Waking Nightmares 1
Music: The Undiscovered Numbers And Colours, Foreign Objects

remember me?

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I’m increasingly beginning to think I’m playing lute for the damned.

The seemingly unstoppable march of fascism, climate change, gun violence, bigotry, overpopulation, war, fucking microplastics…

At this point, I’m thinking I could write humanity’s single greatest work of fiction, and it wouldn’t matter, because humanity itself will be gone before my lifetime is out.

My lifetime might be tomorrow.

Armageddon might be tomorrow.

I have works of staggering genius in me, but I fear that neither I nor anyone else will live to see them.

Nor will I ever get my head far enough out of my ass to complete them.

Is it still fatalism if it’s true?

Target: 800 words
Written: 535 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: The Adventures Of Captain Hatteras, Jules Verne (it's nice to feel cold in this heat)
Comics: The Crow: Flesh And Blood 3, The Crow: City Of Angels 1-3
Music: Undisclosed Desires, Muse (apropos, I suppropose) <-- that's the staggering genius I'm talking about.

tim armstrong is my spirit animal

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Every time I hear him, whether it’s Operation Ivy, Rancid, Transplants or his own stuff, there’s just something so smooth about it. It hits me hard in the gut, sets up shop in the chambers of my hearts.

That’s the just way things are. That’s just the way it is now.

Tall cans in the air, motherfucker.

Target: 800 words
Written: 387 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: The Adventures Of Captain Hatteras, Jules Verne
Comics: The Crow: Dead Time 2-3, The Crow: Flesh And Blood 1-2
Music: The Undertones, The Undertones (Teenage Kicks, right through the night)

what’s not to love?

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It’s Deadpool & Wolverine day for me, and I am stoked.

Not only is Ryan Reynolds one of my favourite comedy actors and fellow geeks, he’s also a good Canadian boy, which I appreciate.

Weirdly, I’ve never been particularly nationalist, but I like to support the locals, especially when they’re doing cool things (sorry, Bieber, Nickelback, you ain’t my cup of tea).

Anyway, excited. The first two were great, so I can’t wait.

Also, my second writing was hit this morning, so a mini cigarillo is in order, and it’s nice enough to do it, so yay!

Target: 800 words
Written: 430 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: The Adventures Of Captain Hatteras, Jules Verne
Comics: The Crow 3-5, The Crow: Dead Time 1 (can I just say that The Crow is a seminal work in Gothic horror/romance?  Every time I've read it, it hits me - fucking angst, anger and love injected straight into my veins.  Absolutely gutting.  Absolutely beautiful.)
Music: Underground V5.0, Linkin Park

coffee

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I think it’s time. As is par for Saturdays anymore, the cats and dog had me up earlier than intended (not the big one, the little dog – the big dog is lazy as hell and sleeps longer than any of us most mornings. She’s wonderful.)

They’re all wonderful, really, but they’re even more wonderful after coffee.

As are most people.

At my best, I mostly want to be left alone; without coffee, I’m full misanthrope.

Is misanthrope a career path? If so, I want to be on that track. Especially before my morning brew.

Aspirations are weird, aren’t they?

Target: 800 words
Written: 435 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: The Adventures Of Captain Hatteras, Jules Verne
Comics: Caliber Presents 1, The Crow 1-2, A Caliber Christmas 1
Music: Underground V4.0, Linkin Park

change for the sake of change

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I’m all for change; things change. It’s the only thing we can’t change.

But change for change’s sake, as pushed by tech companies and corporations filled with individuals who may have had a purpose at one point, but have now accomplished that task and are just trying to justify their existence?

Enshittification is a real thing, partially driven by greed, but partially, but idiocy and ego.

You design an app; it’s easy, it’s clean, it does what it’s intended to do and very well, all it requires is maintenance after that.

But then comes the lull. The people who built the app aren’t really necessary at that point; they’re really just there to fix bugs and security flaws. That means most of them can go. But they don’t want to lose their jobs, their prestige, so they start tweaking. This needs this unnecessary feature. What if we update the look?

Cornflower blue?

And next thing you know, the app is a mess, your users are disenchanted and the only thing you can do to keep them is to create more restrictive systems to try and lock them so they have no choice.

But all you had to do was maintain.

Someone should tell the bosses they are no longer needed. Coast, bitches. It’s fun, and it’s easier on everyone.

Target: 800 words
Written: 408 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: The Regiment, Farley Mowat
Comics: Postal: Night Shift 1
Music: Underground Network, Anti-Flag

sledgehammer

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I don’t know why, but every time Sledgehammer comes on, I want to get angry. It’s not that the song inspires that in me, it’s that, no matter what I do on my shuffle, it somehow manages to come up.

Like, every time.

I’m not that big of a Peter Gabriel fan; in fact, I think that’s the only song in my repertoire, and I think it came as part of a new wave playlist or something.

But the sledgehammer keeps returning, and it’s not cool, like the 80s TV show.

It’s just a bludgeon, one more little way for the universe to throw tomatoes at my face.

I am a Shakespearian actor playing poorly on an off-off-Globe stage.

And I’m not even in one of the good ones, or playing the juicy part.

I am the walk-on; the Sir Andrew Aguecheek of middle-class Canada.

Forever pursuing; forever the joke.

Target: 800 words
Written: 262 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: The Regiment, Farley Mowat
Comics: Postal: Deliverance 5-8
Music: Underground 6, Linkin Park

remixes

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I think I finally know what it is that I hate about techno remixes of other songs.

It’s the missing emotion. They often take the passion with which a singer or band carries their vision across and chop it up in a way that isn’t the same as a cover.

If one covers a song, one has to connect with the music, find a way to tie it into one’s own emotions and then to reproduce it in one’s own inimitable style.

A remix isn’t about finding the emotion and finding a way to channel it; it’s a purely intellectual exercise in chopping up something beautiful in a way that makes it seem like the person wielding the axe is hip.

And if creating something hip is all you care about, then, well, you should just stick to generic pop, because that’s all you’re good for.

I’m not saying a good remix can’t be done, but more often than not when I’ve found one (which is rare), it’s because it a minor variation on the original or because they’re brought their own emotion to the party (either distilling the original into its ultimate emotion) or adding something particular (like a new rap).

Anyway, kids, remember. Art is about conveying emotion, not just showing how clever or cool you are. Music isn’t about the appearance of abs and tits and asses; it’s about tapping into a feeling and carrying it across, whether it’s joyous, devastating or silly, it doesn’t matter.

Tap that, and leave the abs for Instagram models.

Target: 800 words
Written: 466 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: The Regiment, Farley Mowat
Comics: Postal: Deliverance 1-4
Music: Undercover, The Rolling Stones

of icons and disappointment

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I think I liked life better when my idols weren’t being constantly accused or exposed as total creeps.

You expect it from Republicans, but man, I wish so many of the people who I grew up thinking as good people, people to pattern oneself afterward, turn out to be assholes.

Or not.

So much of it is speculation and hearsay, so much of it divorced from reality and put upon with one’s own prejudices, that a person has no choice but to take it with a grain of salt.

It’s one thing when accuser after accuser comes out of the woodwork, because this shit tends to be serial among the rich and famous, but when it’s isolated, without evidence or corroboration… do we still believe every story?

I’m all for believing survivors, but to assume that every accusation is the god’s honest truth is downright naive, and actually malicious when put into practice. Weaponized outrage.

Some of the stuff coming out of all this has been truly horrific; some of it much more complicated than its rage conductors would have us believe. Blind belief never serves anyone. Wouldn’t it be more beneficial to be certain, as certain as one can be, and thereby discourage those who would wield outrage for personal gain, revenge or whatever against trotting out lies and thereby destroying someone’s life and career?

Anyway, thoughts on the day; I still side with women, in most cases, with the caveat that blind acceptance is always a bad idea. Myopia is never a good look. We owe it to ourselves and the presumption of innocence to at least wait for the facts before we condemn.

Target: 800 words
Written: 402 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: The Regiment, Farley Mowat
Comics: Postal 24-25, Postal: Mark 1, Postal: Laura 1
Music: Underclass Hero + Sampler, Sum 41

the day after

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It’s amazing how there just seems to be no one in the Democratic Party that possesses the cynicism and pragmatism necessary to ignore the fucking media and do the right, smart thing. They know these motherfuckers in big media are controlled by Trump backers and yet, they still just fucking kowtow to them, over and over.

Being so easily led is why they’re in this position. You don’t think they’ll just do this to Harris as well?

Of course they fucking will, while giving the felon, con man and wannabe dictator a free fucking pass, again and again and again.

I’m starting to think we deserve this, simply for being too fucking spineless to stop it.

Target: 800 words
Written: 121 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: The Regiment, Farley Mowat
Comics: Samaritan: Veritas 3, Think Tank: Animal 4, Postal 22-23
Music: Under The Covers, Red Hot Chili Peppers