deja vu

Did I do the reverse Schrodinger’s Cat?

Can you do a reverse deja vu, or is that just, you know, everyday living?

You don’t remember any of it. Is reverse deja vu all the shit that you forget that you did, because it was so unremarkable?

Target: 1300 words
Written: 1784 words, novel: Bad Neighbours

Read: Magician: Apprentice, Raymond Feist
Comics: Napalm Lullaby 8, The Seasons 1, The Sacrificers 14, The Holy Roller 9
Music: We Built This City - The Very Best Of Starship, Starship

reverse schrodinger’s cat

I had this in my notes about the nature of “alternative facts” and how conspiracy theories, no matter how insane, can go viral and I thought: that’s exactly the mentality the right takes towards reality.

Schrodinger’s cat is basically a thought experiment where if one puts a cat in a box, so one can’t see or hear it, one doesn’t actually know if the cat still exists.

The idea is that the fact of the cat’s life or death is entirely unknown, until the box is opened and facts are gathered. Until that point, the cat is neither dead or alive, but could simultaneously be either.

In right wing land, the opposite is true. As facts are revealed, the right wing becomes increasingly convinced that the entire proposition, whatever it is (the economy tanking, concentration camps, the illegality and immorality of masked men abducting people off the streets in the name of “law”), is entirely false.

However, the fewer facts there are, in this land, the more likely a right winger is to believe a thing is true (Haitians eating dogs in Springfield, the Bowling Green Massacre, 2020 election bullshit).

Basically, in a right winger’s mind, the fact that you can’t see the cat is proof of its existence – the cat must be alive. Ironically, opening the cat and showing it as it is, either way, dead or alive, is proof that the cat does not, in fact, exist.

I mean, it’s not a perfect theory, but you get the gist.

The stupider and less proven a conspiracy is, the more likely it is to be true, according to the right wing. See: Pizzagate.

The more logical and factually proven a conspiracy is, the more likely, in their minds, to be utterly untrue, a total cover-up, entirely fictional: see, Trump and Epstein, or any of the various grifts that piece of garbage has run on the American people.

One can only hope at some point that reality asserts itself, but the reality of their unreality is currently shaping the direction of the rest of our reality, creating an insane cognitive dissonance between where to draw the lines of real and unreal, which is what they want.

You can’t fight insanity with logic, and you can’t fight bullshit if you don’t know where to draw the line of truth.

I mean, we all know where the line is, and what’s bullshit, but we’re not the ones that need to be convinced.

Reality will come for us all, but whether it’s the reality of reality crashing down on their heads, or their unreality going scorched earth on our disbelief, either way, it won’t end well for somebody.

Or anybody, really.

Fuck.

Target: 1300 words
Written: 1349 words, novel: Bad Neighbours

Read: Magician: Apprentice, Raymond Feist
Comics: The Sacrificers 12-13, Grommets 6, Napalm Lullaby 7
Music: We Built This City, Closet Monster

hangover

Haven’t had one of these in a while.

I guess draft beer still has its kick when you drink a half-dozen heavies.

Well, back to bed then, and a good dose of aspirin.

Target: 1300 words
Written: 1607 words, novel: Bad Neighbours

Read: Magician: Apprentice, Raymond Feist
Comics: Grommets 4-5, The Sacrificers 11, The Holy Roller 8
Music: We Are The Same, Tragically Hip (most underrated album?)

hipfest

I mean, I had fun, but I wanted it to be so much better. The others were going on about how great the guy was, but I found the band super loose, and the singer was mucking up lyrics (and moving around entire verses) wholesale.

I’m not sure the hangover is worth that.

Sorry, dude, Gord Downie, you ain’t.

Target: 1300 words
Written: 1127 words, novel: Bad Neighbours

Read: Magician: Apprentice, Raymond Feist
Comics: Napalm Lullaby 5-6, The Sacrificers 10, Grommets 3
Music: Wayne's World Soundtrack, Various Artists

end of the week

No time, guv. Big plans, big plans.

Anger babies are birthing.

Target: 1300 words
Written: 1398 words, novel: Bad Neighbours

Read: Magician: Apprentice, Raymond Feist
Comics: Napalm Lullaby 4, The Sacrificers 9, Grommets 2, The Holy Roller 7
Music: The Way It Is, Bruce Hornsby & The Range (the WHOLE range)

falling over

I feel like I’m about to collapse.

It’s been thing after thing after thing, and trying to find time to write anything has been next to impossible. I’m stealing sleep to do it.

Fuckin’ hell, I don’t know why all of a sudden, everything, for months, is so fucking busy.

I hate it.

Target: 1300 words
Written: 1496 words, novel: Bad Neighbours

Read: Magician: Apprentice, Raymond Feist
Comics: The Sacrificers 8, Napalm Lullaby 3, The Holy Roller 6, Grommets 1
Music: Wave Of Mutilation: The Best Of Pixies, The Pixies

thirteen again

Would that I was. Fresh off reading the Bible all the way through, about to have my first drink, my first drug, my first real make-out session (my first kiss happened in grade one with a girl named Jessica, who ironically, was not my childhood sweetheart – that was Shelley, who my parents tell me is now some kind of super junkie, so, uh, I guess I had an early type), my first summer love, my first experiences with weed, mushrooms, acid and sex (not all at thirteen, of course, though it was a close thing).

I was told how smart I was; they made it sound like natural talent, so I never felt like I needed to learn how to put effort in. Things came too easy, and that fucked me later on, when they didn’t, and I didn’t know how to buckle down and study.

Classic fixed mindset, that didn’t shift until my mid-thirties.

I backed up that insecurity with bluster and bravado.

Bullshit.

And now, thirty-five years later, I still fight the demons of youth.

I’m not a junkie, not yet. I’m quite possibly an alcoholic, though I’d disagree with the sentiment, given that I’m rarely drunk and don’t actually have more than about a six-pack in a week.

I just like it, okay?

Leave me alone, dad.

Fuck.

Labatt 50 was my first sip of beer, and goddamnit. It sucked.

Target: 1300 words
Written: 1140 words, novel: Bad Neighbours

Read: Magician: Apprentice, Raymond Feist
Comics: Napalm Lullaby 1-2, The Holy Roller 5, The Sacrificers 7
Music: Wave, Patti Smith Group

mary, mary, quite contrary

I’m a contrarian. I don’t do it on purpose. There’s just something in my brain that hears an opinion or a thing accepted as fact and can’t help but play devil’s advocate and ask: what if it wasn’t?

It’s an absurd desire to see the other, that I can’t quite avoid. I used to call it opening worlds, and that’s a good an explanation as any, but it comes down to this. Whatever the view is, I want to see the other one.

Or another one. There’s rarely just two. It means constant growth, and it avoids dogma, but it does tend to put one on the outs with everyone else.

Always asking the question: what are the other ways to look at this? What if it’s not?

What if there’s another way?

What if there’s a hundred?

What about a thousand?

What if it’s infinite?

It’s taken me a long time to get used to the idea that this will never end, that there can be no end to perspective and questions.

And if puts me at odds with humanity, well, so fucking be it.

Target: 1300 words
Written: 1026 words, novel: Bad Neighbours

Read: Hammered, Elizabeth Bear (finally, enjoyed it, but too much interference)
Comics: The Sacrificers 6, The Holy Roller 2-4
Music: Wasting Light, Foo Fighters

oh, exhaustion

Our little pup still isn’t pooping. On top of that, we’ve had non-stop storms all night, which scare the shit (not literally in this case, though that would solve one problem), so she’s been freaking out and keeping us awake.

Nice to come home to – an exhausting week away followed by a night of three hours’ sleep, before you have to go back and pretend like you wanted to come back to the office.

I’m too tired to pretend.

Target: 1300 words
Written: 1928 words, novel: Bad Neighbours

Read: Hammered, Elizabeth Bear
Comics: The Sacrificers 3-5, The Holy Roller 1
Music: Wasted... Again, Black Flag

home again

I was praying for peace, but, uh, yeah. Nope. Sofi’s not well (hopefully overkill from the week gone), and coming home to no Isis, and Raiden (her twin) being weird.

It’s hard.

Why doesn’t everything suck so much all the time?

Target: 1300 words
Written: 1344 words, novel: Bad Neighbours

Read: Hammered, Elizabeth Bear (finally, some progress)
Comics: A Righteous Thirst For Vengeance 11, Deadly Class 56, The Sacrificers 1-2
Music: Washing Machine, Sonic Youth