of long walks

I’ve walked probably about fifty New York City blocks of varying lengths and my dogs are barking.

I appreciate what the city has to offer and all, but damn.

I am peopled the fuck out.

There are too many people on this planet. I’m not calling for a plague or anything, but like, stop breeding, people.

Republicans claim to be pro-life, but man, abortion is one of the many ways we can help this planet by not contributing to overpopulation, unhappiness, children and parents in poverty or abuse, because they weren’t ready and didn’t want kids… you’re contributing to fucking misery and death, the death of us all, with your anti-environmental, anti-woman, anti-life stances.

Like fucking vegans, you’ve taken a high-minded principle (don’t abort fetuses or eat animals), and missed the actual real world impact of such a stance, both from a moral, and historical standpoint.

The most “noble” of intentions based on completely flawed premises (of course, I’d also argue that vegans may actually have noble intentions, but Republicans, given their pro-gun, pro-capital punishment and pro-who-gives-a-fuck-what-happens-to-the-kid-after-they’re-born stance, are entirely disin-fucking-genuous).

Anyway, people. Keep fucking, but stop breeding, for Pete’s sake, whoever Pete is.

Target: 700 words
Written: 962 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: Assholes Finish First, Tucker Max
Comics: Danger Girl: Renegade 3-4
Music: Other Pirate Material, The Streets

merrily we roll along

I usually hate musicals (and parts of this I didn’t care for), but this was still pretty good.

I guess maybe I’m okay with musical comedies?

If they star Daniel Radcliffe and Jonathan Groff?

Yeah?

Maybe?

Target: 700 words
Written: 1382 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: It Devours!, Joseph Fink, Jeffrey Cranor
Comics: Danger Girl: Mayday 3-4, Danger Girl: Renegade 1-2
Music: The Original Cowboy, Against Me! (EVERYTHING EXCLAMATION MARKS!!!)

chelsea morning

I think if I lived in New York, it’d be in Chelsea. Something about the vibe.

Of course, I hate people and I could never afford it, but you know, the vibe.

Still, space and quiet are more important to me. And besides, I’ve never bought into this idea that because something is from a big city, it’s automatically “better”. Street food in New York is no better than street food anywhere else (and I’ll die on the hill that Chicago dogs are the absolute fucking pinnacle of that kind of street food – New York’s is generic shit).

I might even say Chicago deep dish is better than New York pizza, that, in fact, having had pizza in many different parts of the world, I would actually rank New York pizza lower than most.

Toronto is the same fucking way. This attitude that bigger is better is idiotic. That might be true of Broadway shows, but let’s face it, a small indie flick usually has infinitely more depth and quality than a big budget action thriller or a star-driven rom-com.

Sometimes, the actual jungle is cooler is than the concrete one.

Target: 700 words
Written: 497 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: It Devours!, Night Valians
Comics: Danger Girl: The Chase 3-4, Danger Girl: Mayday 1-2
Music: The Original Broadway Cast Recording Of American Idiot (hey, when in Rome, right?)

also fact

Ninety-nine percent of Gen X males who were in either their teens or twenties in the Nineties will also picture themselves as moustachioed detectives sliding across car hoods, Starsky and Hutch style, when the song Sabotage by the Beastie Boys is on.

None of us will think a real life moustache is cool, unless you’re a police officer, porn star or either Tom Selleck or Sam Elliott (like, best ‘stache ever, am I right?)

Target: 700 words
Written: 50 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: Make Love! The Bruce Campbell Way, Ash
Comics: Danger Girl/Army Of Darkness 2-4, Danger Girl: Revolver 1
Music: An Open Letter To NYC, Beastie Boys

facts

There are things that I know to be false and things I know to be true.

We are mostly made of nothing. The whole universe is largely void.

Fact.

Gravity is a thing.

Fact.

Puppies and kittens are cute.

Fact.

Finally, ninety-nine percent of all Gen X males who were either in their teens or twenties during the Nineties will think or say some version of “Oh hell yeah” when the opening chords of Sabotage by the Beastie Boys hits.

True story.

Target: 700 words
Written: 192 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: Make Love! The Bruce Campbell Way, Bruce Campbell
Comics: Danger Girl: Body Shots 2-4, Danger Girl/Army Of Darkness 1 (a Bruce kind of day, apparently)
Music: One Particular Harbour, Jimmy Buffett (and sorry about the Chester crack yesterday, it was uncalled for, especially from a guy who followed it up with Jimmy Buffett and suffers from depression. I should know better. In Chester's defense, the best two songs on this otherwise generic pop album were the ones written by him. They tried something different and it didn't work out. One evolves, sometimes. Sometimes, one just gets off track. Everybody fucks up sometimes.)

sick day

Well, that’s that. I took the day off yesterday. Slept the morning away.

All the dogs stayed in the bedroom with me. I expected that of Sofi (and Ivy, my brother’s dog we were babysitting for the day). They’re attached at my hip.

But our big girl, our lovable Golden Pyrenees, she stayed beside me all morning as well.

What sweet girls.

Man, I love my dogs.

Our cats, too.

The world is a wonderful place with pets in it. I will never understand why some people don’t like (or outright hate) animals.

Fucking pricks. The world would be a better place with a whole lot more of them, and a whole less of you, you heartless shits.

Target: 700 words
Written: 87 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: The Desire Map, Danielle Laporte
Comics: Danger Girl: Back In Black 2-4, Danger Girl: Body Shots 1
Music: One More Light, Linkin Park (listen, I don't know why Chester killed himself, but I wouldn't doubt this album played a part - what bullshit this was, just a straight pop album, not even subversive or elevated- I can't imagine he was happy with the direction things were going at this point)

all i’m saying

Is when you’re talking about suicide, depression and mental health around others, be aware that there may be sufferers nearby for whom your demonization or minimization of their struggle has a negative impact, reinforcing the very stereotypes about themselves that may be keeping them in this state of diminished being.

Your words could spiral someone who was teetering, and you might not even know it.

Leave the place better than you found it. That’s all I’m saying.

And for Pete’s sake, if your only contribution to empathy is a social media post or bluster to friends, stop pretending you give a shit, so everybody can know what an asshole you are, and not only those attuned to your hypocrisy and bullshit.

(Also, who’s Pete? Why are we doing things for Pete’s sake? Is Pete depressed? Should we be worried about Pete?)

Target: 700 words
Written: 41 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: Hans Christian Anderson's Fairy Tales (so.  goddamned.  long.)
Comics: American Vampire Second Cycle 11, American Vampire Anthology 2, American Vampire 1976 1-2
Music: One By One, Foo Fighters (the last great rock band - unless you count Jack White, which I don't after the White Stripes ended)

empathy-less

A guy we don’t know through some people we don’t know through some people we do know killed himself recently.

I’m sure it’s not that uncommon; I suspect many unexpected deaths that they don’t list causes for in the newspaper are suicide-based, more than we care to admit.

What bothers me is the response.

The condemnation of this fellow is unanimous – what an asshole for leaving his wife and children, and in his own home!

This, from people who will advocate for nearly anyone who has a “disorder”, as long as they don’t know them personally. The homeless are just broken. Oh, you can’t hold them responsible for that. They have anxiety, and get this, DEPRESSION.

And yet, the condemnation of this poor fellow is ASSHOLE, LOSER, IDIOT, MONSTER.

I don’t know anything about the situation that led to all this, so I don’t know the man’s motivations or the attitudes and behaviours of those in his life, but I suspect if he was willing to go that far, his thoughts about himself probably ran much the same.

ASSHOLE, LOSER, IDIOT, MONSTER.

And as someone who has lived with depression since I was twelve and thought about snuffing it more times than I can count, I can tell you that someone showing a little empathy, some care and concern, could very well have turned it around.

My go-to is “this too shall pass”, which reminds me when I’m feeling like that just to keep moving and the situation will change. Sometimes, that takes days. Sometimes, it just needs one other person to say something nice, or to engage you in something that takes your mind off of it.

Writing helps. Better out than in.

I don’t know anything, again, about the man or his wife, his kids, his job, whatever. Maybe he just found out he had stage 4 cancer and didn’t want to put his family through that. Maybe he was into some shady shit and his whole world was about to blow apart. His reasons might be entirely different from my own.

I don’t know if she was supportive and he was suffering psychological issues beyond what she could deal with, but from the sound of it, it was fairly unexpected, so who knows?

Either way, I think some empathy is due. He felt enough pain to make the one choice that truly abdicates one’s responsibility toward this life in which we live. That, in itself, should trigger questions as to why, not condemnations. That solves nothing, and for the other people in your life that may suffer in depression, and may be thinking of self-harm, it sends a clear message – what a worthless, idiotic, monstrous asshole you would be for committing such an act, and by extension, even considering it (which we sufferers inevitably do).

I can guarantee, because the thought was my own, the reaction for those hearing about this and still suffering was “they don’t understand the pain”, followed by guilt and a further spiral of anger, as again, the world proves it does not care about us, that it devalues us, that we are worthless, idiotic, asshole losers and now, yes, MONSTERS.

Of course, these same people show empathy when all it requires is meaningless words to people not involved or a post on social media, but when it comes to supporting or sympathizing with someone in reality?

That’s how you know these people are more interested in status and reputation and not in empathy or helping those who suffer.

So, sorry, guy I didn’t know. You were suffering to the point where you felt leaving this life was the only reasonable choice. You didn’t have (or didn’t know you had) people around you who would support you, who would help you and you made the ultimate choice.

And while we can debate endlessly the nature of the act – cowardice and irresponsibility versus relief and the end of suffering – we can spare a minute to think of the pain of those left behind and the departed.

He made a bad choice, driven by bad feelings, caught in the tunnel vision of despair, in which one sees no options and none are presented.

Perhaps if someone had taken the time to pay attention, and provide an option or a shoulder to cry on, instead of ASSHOLE, LOSER, IDIOT, MONSTER, he might not be gone at all.

Target: 700 words
Written: 63 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: Hans Christian Anderson's Fairy Tales
Comics: American Vampire: Second Cycle 7-10
Music: The One, Foo Fighters

responsibility

I think I’m sick of the lack of responsibility and accountability in this world. From millenials and Gen Z blaming all their woes on whatever psychological issue that they have or fucking Trumpers assuming they can commit literal crime (up to and including fascism or hate crimes) with no pushback, I’ve just had it.

Take some fucking responsibility, goddamnit.

If you really want freedom, you have to understand, that the more freedom, the more responsibility. The more responsible you are for your own behaviour.

You don’t get a pass because you’re white, straight or male.

You don’t get a pass because you have generalized anxiety disorder.

I’m all those things and I feel responsible for everything. I know my choices are my own. I know my depression is just a thing I deal with, not the thing that runs my life.

I make my own choices.

Are they always good? Nope, but that’s the point. You fucking learn from the bad ones.

You are not hopeless. You are not powerless.

You are not able to do whatever you want without consequence.

These things are true.

So suck it the fuck up, take your lumps, and BE. BETTER.

Target: 600 words
Written: 123 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: Hans Christian Anderson's Fairy Tales
Comics: American Vampire: Second Cycle 3-6
Music: One, The Beatles

derailed

I hate in-office. There’s so much extra (unnecessary) shit to do. And there are things that you have to be in the office for, but honestly, so much of it could be automated, or done by the group that is in office all the time, and with what they’ve assigned me this week, there is absolutely zero reason for me to be there.

It’s just so goddamned unnecessary – a time suck, a morale suck, a tension raiser because I don’t like being around all those people (I’m not a crowd guy). I work less efficiently, it raises my stress levels and the extra time I need in the morning, afternoon and lunch to travel, get lunches, get things ready for dogs, cats and whoever, the whole fucking week just becomes a drag, literally, slowing down any momentum I might have had with the extra time and energy I have from a work-at-home week.

Any why? Because they want federal employees to stimulate the economy by spending money on gas?

Polluting the fucking planet when we don’t actually need to?

It’s so goddamned irresponsible, fiscally and morally, and as human beings.

Ridiculous.

Target: 600 words
Written: 60 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: Hans Christian Anderson's Fairy Tales
Comics: American Vampire: The Long Road To Hell, American Vampire Anthology 1, American Vampire: Second Cycle 1-2
Music: Once Upon A Time, Simple Minds