Category: canon

the things that come up

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You know, it’s really tough to write a scene-ending line about the possibility of a prostate massage.

Technically, an objection to it, a total horrifying of the moral senses.

(Except, you know, get your prostate checked. That shit’s important, fellas, both in a medical sense, and a what’s good for the goose sense.)

Polyps is no joke, kids.

Target: 1400 words
Written: 1483 words, novel: Bad Neighbours

Read: The Picture Of Dorian Gray, Oscar Wilde (prostates, you say?)
Comics: Brigade v3 1, Youngblood Bloodsport 1, Youngblood Genesis 1-2
Music: Whatever Happened To P.J. Soles?, Local H (quite possible the most underrated one hit wonder ever)

a particularly difficult scene

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I don’t like guns. They’re everywhere in movies, television and books, but they have never been a part of my life.

I’ve never fired one. Never even held one.

I haven’t been around one when it went off.

So, it’s hard for me to write about what the effects of such a thing are, how one reacts and all that, when one actually does. Unfortunately, it’s a crucial addition to this book. A late addition, but to really capture the zeitgeist of what it means to be a MAGA archetype, well, you need guns.

Second Amendment bollocks, really.

How fucking dumb are you people? You know if you get rid of the guns, then no one can get shot, right?

Of course, unless you’re an asshole who wants to shoot somebody, which I believe you all are, whether you admit it outwardly or not.

Fuckin’ stupid, man.

Target: 1400 words
Written: 2713 words, novel: Bad Neighbours

Read: Quiet: The Power Of Introverts, Susan Cain
Comics: Spider-Man/Badrock 2, Chapel v3 1, Judgment Day: Alpha 1, Judgment Day: Omega 1
Music: What Else Could You Want?, Bullet Treatment (well, if that don't beat all)

big changes, slipped hood

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At least, that’s what this scene is screaming at me.

Why is everyone so calm, including the protagonist?

There are bad things happening, terrifying, awful, annoying, dangerous things.

You have my permission to freak out.

I am.

(Also, yay to Democrat gains in the elections; now, we pray there are enough of us to overcome the rigging, or that he doesn’t suspend elections altogether.)

Target: 1400 words
Written: 1340 words, novel: Bad Neighbours

Read: Quiet: The Power Of Introverts, Susan Cain (it's me!)
Comics: Shattered Image 3-4, Youngblood v2 14, Spider-Man/Badrock 1
Music: Western Stars, Bruce Springsteen

sunday, sunday

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Bah bah, bah, bahbahbah bah.

Also, I’m a little hungover. Going to a movie premiere, then rushing to a bar to catch the last two-thirds of the World Series, only to have it go extra innings, and be stressful to the point of multiple Guinnesses (Guinnessi?), well, that’s too late a night for me.

The movie was better than expected; a local production filmed two blocks from us at an abandoned prison from the old days (built by William Lyon Mackenzie King). We walked past the filming every day, saw the crew and the actors and actresses hanging out, scared the shit out of my wife given that she’s got a monster phobia of jails (and snakes and heights).

My cousin’s daughter worked as a PA on set too, so more ties yet. We had to go.

It was cool to see the various things we’d glimpsed translated onto the screen – the weird partial fence they put up for an outside shot, the girl leaving the jail by a side door after “killing” the Jason-like monster, Jeffrey. The old Bronco and convertible they came and left in (which had a fake severed head on the hood).

Fun times, unique kills, but maybe dragged out a little too long. A touch more editing time might help it get that really tight feeling.

Kill, or be killed – the rule of editing.

Only what’s necessary; and no more. Something I’ve been working on for months.

(It’s called Fresh Meat, if you’re interested, coming to a film festival near you, maybe?)

Target: 1400 words
Written: 826 words, novel: Bad Neighbours

Read: Quiet: The Power Of Introverts, Susan Cain
Comics: Bloodpool Special 1, Team Youngblood 21, Chapel v2 7, Youngblood v2 7
Music: We're Outta Here, The Ramones

scramble

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It’s a madcap whirlwind weekend coming, and I am trying to get some shit done before we go, because there’s little fucking chance of doing anything other than staying barely afloat in the days to come.

I’ve never missed a fucking deadline yet.

And I ain’t gonna start now.

Target: 1400 words
Written: 1982 words, novel: Bad Neighbours

Read: From The Earth To The Moon, Jules Verne
Comics: Brigade v2 20-21, Violator Vs. Badrock 1, Team Youngblood 19
Music: Weezer (White Album), Weezer

barking

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I don’t know what the deal is the last few days, but my girls won’t stop barking.

It’s driving me insane. It’s impossible to read a book or edit a scene with this going on.

I can barely get through a comic.

Five minutes, ladies. All I’m asking for.

Maybe twenty. An hour.

Three hours, tops.

Maybe eight.

Nine?

How about a whole day?

Target: 1400 words
Written: 1797 words, novel: Bad Neighbours

Read: Magic Kingdom For Sale - Sold!, Terry Brooks
Comics: Battlestone 1, Bloodstrike 16, Team Youngblood 15, Youngblood Strikefile 8
Music: We Rebuilt This City, Closet Monster

thanksgiving

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What am I thankful for?

My dogs. My cats.

My family.

My job, unsteady as it is right now with Carney’s cuts looming.

A world on the brink that hasn’t quite made it there yet.

I can still write.

I am not banned.

I may be in the future.

Fuck ’em. I’d want nothing more than to be censored.

Call me A Clockwork Orange.

Madmenny and a malenky bit of the old in and out, right, me droogs?

Fuck it. Banned books for all.

I am thankful there’s still outrage over that.

Target: 1400 words
Written: 1476 words, novel: Bad Neighbours

Read: Magic Kingdom For Sale - Sold!, Terry Brooks
Comics: Youngblood 9, Youngblood Strikefile 7, Brigade v2 13, Badrock And Company 3
Music: We Love Life, Pulp (do we?)

damn it

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You know when you want to do a good job at something, like, the idea’s good, but the execution just ain’t there?

That’s me and these last couple of scenes.

I was killing it, and then…

I wasn’t.

Fuck.

Target: 1300 words
Written: 1185 words, novel: Bad Neighbours

Read: When Charlie McButton Lost Power, Suzanne Collins
Comics: Brigade v2 6, Team Youngblood 4, Troll 1, Bloodstrike 7
Music: Wasted... Again, Black Flag

sometimes it’s tough

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It can be very difficult to get in the head of someone who thinks so much differently than yourself.

Sometimes, it’s worse when it’s someone with whom you should identify, but who you’ve written as having one particular characteristic that’s utterly opposite to your own.

Like, say, a highly liberal man who finds sex disgusting.

Versus, say, me, also quite liberal, but lacks many boundaries. There are no off-limit topics to me.

I have boundaries, but I refuse to censor my life; I may not like the horrors (and perceived horrors which aren’t actually horrors) of the modern world, but I’ll not ignore their reality.

It’s hard for those of us who have spent a lifetime being comfortable wallowing in the dirt to relate to Howard Hughes.

Fear of dirt is as great a fear as any, and if what we all suspect is coming (Trump’s apocalypse) actually comes, well, then, we all better get a lot more used to it.

Target: 1300 words
Written: 1460 words, novel: Bad Neighbours

Read: Born For This, Chris Guillebeau (I want to like the guy, but there's something just... missing in his style.  It's 'non-conformist', but in the most vanilla manner possible, at least in presentation, which makes even his good ideas a bland read.  Plus, it gets a bit repetitive; how many examples can you give without concrete directions or concepts that go beyond the barest of bones, borderlining platitude?  Ugh, some colour, some fire, man.  I wonder if he regrets using Thiel and Musk as examples, the way I would hope Tony Robbins regrets using just about everyone he's used, particularly Donald Trump.)
Comics: Bloodstrike 5-6, Brigade v2 5, Team Youngblood 3
Music: Washing Machine, Sonic Youth

in the weeds now

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I mean, I’m working harder than ever, and tomorrow’s a holiday, so we can sit and think about what we’ve done, which admittedly, is a weird reason for a holiday, and I’m not sure it’s tangible help to native communities, but here we are.

It’s probably better to ask them than me, but I suspect the answer is that we’re not doing enough to reconcile the sins of past with creating a better future for the indigenous.

In any case, not to make light, but I’ve spent the last fifty minutes trying to have a character explain why he’s still considered liberal if he’s opposed to butt stuff.

It’s a hygiene thing, not a commentary on homosexuality.

(The character, not me. You get your freak on, boys and girls. As long as it’s consensual and doesn’t involve children, animals or those not capable of making that decision, then you get on getting on, however you wanna do it.)

Anyway, life’s weird and horrible things that require solemnity often overlap with the absurd.

I think we’d die if we had to take it all so seriously (which ironically, sums out how we got to our current edge-of-Armageddon political apocalypse). We all got too sensitive, hunkered down, doubled down, doubled down again and instead of letting shit go a little and talking it out, we’re about to have a civil war a hundred kilometres or so to the south of us.

Lighten up, jerks. Drop the militants, and get back to using your words.

Target: 1300 words
Written: 1249 words, novel: Bad Neighbours

Read: Born For This, Chris Guillebeau
Comics: Brigade v2 0, 3, Team Youngblood 1, Bloodstrike 4
Music: Warped Tour 2001 Compilation, Various (but mostly Anti-Flag and Flogging Molly)