Category: canon

it occurred to me

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That it might be funny to make little haikus out of the post listings on the right.

It currently says

i am also eating shit
we know you’re eating shit
never let it be said

Which isn’t traditional haiku, but it’s followed up by

so i went off the drugs
dogsittin’

Which in itself is kind of fun.

Something to think about.

It would lock me into the site’s look and feel, which is kind of hilarious.

Mornings are fucked when you’re thinking about barking dogs and yoga butt and the lack of porn in a main character’s movie collection.

Writing is weird.

Target: 1100 words
Written: 986 words, novel: Bad Neighbours

Read: The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo, Stieg Larsson
Comics: Shadowhawk v5 6-9
Music: Nowhere, Ride

conflict

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It makes a good plot device, and in real life, is entirely unavoidable. As much as we’d like to eliminate conflict, the best I think we can do is minimize its impact on us, which means learning how best to handle it.

I’m filled with conflict these days – my desire to fight oppression, my desire to avoid people who suck, my own internal resistance to doing what it will take to actually take all these thoughts and dreams in my head and start shaping the world to them, instead of the other way around.

Then again, the Tao teaches doing-not-doing, so forcing the world into a shape it cannot be may be counterproductive.

Would that those would not listen break, and find the plugs in their mind falling free.

Would that we all fall free.

Would that we all love.

Would that, would that.

Target: 1100 words
Written: 1733 words, novel: Bad Neighbours

Read: Proof Of Collusion, Seth Abramson
Comics: Shadownhawk 0, Shadowhawk v4 13-15
Music: Acoustic Stuff, Stone Temple Pilots

beginning to realize

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This blog cannot be a vent for whatever my personal random shit is that day.

It’s meant to connect, to put out into the world what I want to say, to be honest about myself.

This ain’t the Mungk no more.

The Mungk was fatalism; bemoaning the state of the world was par for the course.

Now that I’m into Bad Neighbours and spending my days thinking about the nature of conflict, consequences and the lack thereof, this will have to get more intellectual.

More “into it”, as the kids say.

I don’t hold controversial views; I believe in peace, cooperation, and respect for our fellow beings.

At least, that shouldn’t be controversial.

These days, though, petting a puppy is considered evil by someone, and that someone is almost definitely MAGA.

Here’s another view that shouldn’t be controversial.

MAGA is bad. Fascism is bad. Bigotry is bad. Corruption is bad. Trump and Elon are bad. All Republicans should be removed from power at the earliest possible opportunity.

These are things that should not be controversial.

But then again, if they were actually considered as they are, we’d never have been in this position in the first place.

Target: 1100 words
Written: 180 words, novel: Bad Neighbours

Read: Proof Of Collusion, Seth Abramson
Comics: Shadowhawk v3 3-4, Shadowhawk Gallery 1, Shadowhawk v4 12 (yes, that's correct; in the original numbering, they decided to make it an ongoing, folding in the first three miniseries, eleven issues' worth)
Music: NOFX/Rancid BYO Split Series, NOFX/Rancid

draftin’

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I started the first draft of Bad Neighbours yesterday. I surprised myself in that I did not represent the characters at all as I wanted, but also, the writing isn’t bad.

It needs adjustment, which is why I’m doing a post mortem on it today. I mean, just the first scene, but hey.

I captured the mayor well.

Target: 1100 words
Written: 200 words, novel: Bad Neighbours

Read: The Personal MBA, Josh Kaufman
Comics: Shadowhawk v2 1-3, Images Of Shadowhawk 1
Music: No. 4, Stone Temple Pilots

comfort

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I miss the comfort in being sad, as Kurt Cobain once opined.

Being sad is bad. But it’s better than in a constant of conflict. One can accept sadness as it is, live in it, find one’s way through it.

Conflict for the sake of conflict?

It’s going to be a tough go while I’m working at Bad Neighbours and it’s the constant contemplation of the incompatibility of viewpoints, left and right, and the futility of anger.

The inability of consequence. The pure rage of missing justice.

The absence of karma, or rather, its lethargic, procrastinating nature.

It may come around, but when? And how fucking long?

Quite frankly, too many assholes have died peacefully in their sleep on top of their piles of money, surrounded by a beautiful wife, successful children and a mistress with glittery fake boobs.

Karma does not reward waiting.

Justice is not automatic.

Target: 1100 words
Written: 920 words, novel: Bad Neighbours

Read: Amatka, Karin Tidbeck
Comics: The Maxx 20-22, Gen13/Maxx 1
Music: No Security, The Rolling Stones

unsatisfied

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I’m not satisfied with my performance. Obviously.

I’ve got several pieces that need to go out, but I can’t find the time or the energy to actually do it. I mean, it’s ridiculous that I won’t.

How the hell is anything going to get published if I don’t let anyone else look at it?

Also, I’m really unhappy with what I did today toward the novel.

I have this whole Grumpy Old Men concept breeding with a “state of politics” idea brewing, but instead, I wrote the main character as a stuck up ass-kissing effete.

He’s supposed to be modern liberal satire; a Democrat who thinks rules actually mean something to the boorish neighbour who has bought off the police and local government.

But instead, it’s shit; I have a feel for the character. What I wrote wasn’t it.

The only thing I can think of is to move on. Rewriting at this point is always an option, even if it’s not happening today.

Fuck. Today sucks.

Target: 1100 words
Written: 2545 words, novel: Bad Neighbours

Read: Ready Player One, Ernest Cline
Comics: The Maxx 1-3, 0.5
Music: The No Fun, Local H

we begin again

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While The Mungk was largely fatalist, and explored the beginnings of trauma without redemption more than anything (along with a slight dose of the mini-traumas that chip away as us piece by piece), this is going to be a vent.

I like funny things. I like humour.

I’m also obsessed with politics. Like, I don’t enjoy them; I just can’t look away. Motherfuckers run this world, whether that’s because they’re literal pieces of human shit (see Trump, everyone who supports him) or weak-willed do-gooders who still think that playing by the rules and taking the high road is doing anything other than handing our world to the forces of evil, who don’t give a fuck what road they take and ignore the rules, it’s largely irrelevant.

Bad Neighbours (the working title) is my way of expressing that. Of diving into ineffectuality, and how it completely fails to address the behaviour of those who could care less about custom, tradition or little things like “the law” or truth.

So, you know, going lighthearted with it, with a dose of fucking fatalism, wrapped up in barely concealed social commentary.

Fuck it. Why not?

Because fascists will hate me for portraying as the boors they are and liberals will hate me because of the mirror I hold up to their ineffectual weakness?

Fuck ’em. If the world is going down, I’ll go with it.

Target: 1000 words
Written: 979 words, novel: Bad Neighbours

Read: Radical Acceptance, Tara Brach (I'm not sure it's working, though I love the concept, minus the woo woo)
Comics: Pitt Crew 1, Pitt 17-20
Music: No Control, Bad Religion

starting to wonder

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There’s been a recurring theme in my work, mostly because as a plot device, it’s evil, but it’s always the same. I know, I know. It happens the world over, but maybe I’m utilizing it too much.

Men and women have always been a complicated thing, but the reality is that it’s not actually that complicated.

It’s the same as anything, really. Be good to each other, and things will be fine.

Unfortunately, it’s far too easy (especially these days), to be shitty to one another.

And as has always been, no matter the race, creed or culture, women take the worst end of it. It doesn’t matter what you are, if you’re a woman, it’s worse for you.

And that’s bullshit.

I mean, I lucked out, technically; I’m a straight, white male. According to most of what I see these days, I should not be allowed to comment anything on these matters, but Yes, Ma’am. I agree.

While that might sound like complaining, it’s not. I do agree, for the most part. I don’t want to mansplain shit to anyone.

I do want to demonstrate that I understood the lesson.

I’m just starting to wonder about how things seem to go in my stories, if I’ve actually taken the lesson to heart.

It wasn’t part of The Mungk (except for maybe the hints of shrewishness in Diana), but it played a big role in Get Back Again, and in my recently written, but not yet published Western Cradle series, and here it is again, in Forest Edge.

Am I really learning?

Something to think about, going forward. 

Target: 1000 words
Written: 343 words, short story: Forest Edge

Read: The Oracle Year, Charles Soule
Comics: Preacher 64-66
Music: Ninety-Nine-Double-Oh Demos, Local H (most underrated grunge band ever?)

regrets

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I’m thinking a lot about what’s evil and what is not.

I’ve just written a four issue comic series, a western based on revenge, which begins typically enough for the kind of spaghetti western I’m basing it on, but takes a wild turn at the end of the first issue (unrevealed future plot twist).

I’m a little worried it pushes me into territory I’m not comfortable representing.

That is, like Get Back Again, I’m concerned some right wing fuck is going to take it and construe it as pro-bigotry or worse, in this case, pro-life.

But that’s not what it’s about (and I’m very pro-choice); it’s similar to The Mungk in that it’s about trauma, and how it can shape us for the worse, until the evil that’s been done to us becomes us abusing ourselves, and maybe others, in ways we never would otherwise.

It’s also about whether evil can be used for good, sometimes?

It’s about guilt and remorse and self-hatred.

Because listen, I know more than a few women who’ve been through it, and despite what the right wing would have you think, most of them did not behave as though they were tossing a used Kleenex.

Most of them were genuinely distressed, upset, even traumatized by it. Not one of them didn’t have strong feelings about it, even if they didn’t want to say it out loud. It was clearly visible on their face and in their eyes.

The other thing that I know about it is that not one of them has ever said they would make a different choice. They don’t regret the choice, even if there’s still remorse.

Like putting down a terminally ill pet; it sucks, you hate it, it makes you weep for days, but even years later, if asked, you’ll say it was the right thing to do.

Anyway, thoughts and feelings on this day; I can’t imagine what the poor women go through.

Even if this case, it’s a little more… extreme.

Target: 1000 words
Written: 720 words, comic: Western Cradle #4

Read: Tropic Of Kansas, Christopher Brown
Comics: Preacher 57-59, Preacher: Tall In The Saddle 1
Music: Nimrod, Green Day

slept in

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Until EIGHT. In the AM!

Crazy, right?

I haven’t had more than about six or seven hours of sleep in months, without being ill.

Of course, I’m ill today, but fuck it. I am using this downtime to push forward hard on the things that I love – writing, reading, comics, with a side of meditation, exercise, cooking and music.

That’s pretty much the sum total, although I think travel, sex, video games, and various other sundry storytelling mediums also play a part.

What else could you possibly need? A greater purpose? People who love you? Righteous vengeance?

I don’t know, but I’m feeling better, anyway.

Still sick, but hell if I couldn’t use eight to ten hours every night.

Target: 1000 words
Written: 2575 words, comic: Western Cradle #2

Read: The Autobiography Of Malcolm X, Malcolm X/Alex Haley
Comics: Preacher: Saint Of Killers 1-2, Preacher 17-18
Music: New York, Lou Reed