Category: health

night market

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A thoroughly enjoyable evening, after last night’s thoroughly enjoyable oyster bar.

Followed tomorrow, probably by thoroughly enjoyable heartburn.

My scale is crying.

Why would a man eat an entire buffalo chicken and blue cheese pizza to himself?

What could possess him?

Devil’s work, if you ask me.

But don’t. The shame won’t allow me to answer.

Target: 1400 words
Written: 3020 words, novel: Bad Neighbours

Read: Complete Poetical Works, Edgar Allan Poe
Comics: Fables 24-27
Music: Wrecking Ball, Bruce Springsteen

the rundown

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Multiple meanings for that these days, as you’ll eventually see.

If there’s ever a movie written of my life, it’s going to be a lot of stuttering and masturbation, followed by a slow, tortuous breakdown in front of a computer.

I know it was a shittier time, but past generations had such grand adventures; our life is so regimented now.

You must do this. You must do that.

There’s no time for peace. No time for quiet.

Where’s my goddamned quiet at?

No, I run, and run, and run, it all just runs me down.

Target: 1400 words
Written: 1823 words, novel: Bad Neighbours

Read: Prozac Nation, Elizabeth Wurtzel (I was excited to read this, thinking I might comiserate, but this is far less a description of depression, but rather narcissism using depression as its party mask.  There's a point where she reaches true depression, I think, and there's a perfect description of it, which made me think, okay, finally, she understands, but then she does it all away with a drug, then spends the rest of the book bemoaning the fact that she did it before it was cool, like some pretentious alt-rock kid pissed off the little indie band they liked signed a deal with a major label.  This book?  Five percent depression, the rest about a real as the proverbial cut my wrist width-wise instead of lengthwise cry for attention.  Disappointing.)
Comics: Fables 20-23
Music: World Container, The Tragically Hip

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: Wind It Up (Rewound), The Prodigy

you know what would be cool?

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If there were like, only a few million people on earth. Enough so you’d have someone to talk to, and stuff to trade, but otherwise, you’re mostly left alone to do the things you want or need to do.

Also, if they could all be cool, that’d be great.

It is an issue, though, this overpopulation. We’re breeding ourselves out, and we’re ignoring it completely.

Target: 1400 words
Written: 2672 words, novel: Bad Neighbours

Read: The Dog Who Wouldn't Be, Farley Mowat
Comics: Bloodstrike 18, New Men 10, Brigade v2 16, Team Youngblood 17
Music: The Who By Numbers, The Who

dot dot dot

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I’ve been thinking about corpses all day and it’s something I’d rather not.

It hasn’t left me with a lot to say.

I’ve seen too many, and too far gone. Death is a part of life; if you believe the anti-immortals, it’s what gives meaning to life; mostly, I think it adds time pressure, an urgency we don’t always feel.

So many of us don’t feel it at all, do we?

What a waste, man. What a waste.

Target: 1300 words
Written: 961 words, novel: Bad Neighbours

Read: Magician's Gambit, David Eddings
Comics: Troll: Once A Hero 1, Youngblood Strikefile 5, Badrock And Company 1, Bloodstrike 14
Music: White Light, White Heat, White Trash, Social Distortion

blood tests

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I finally found her.

I finally found the person that can’t hit my veins.

This, from the guy who once made a joke to a nurse, “I would have made one hell of a junkie.”

Goals, people.

Goals.

Target: 1300 words
Written: 1661 words, novel: Bad Neighbours

Read: The Last American Vampire, Seth Grahame-Smith
Comics: Bloodstrike 1-2, Youngblood Battlezone 1, Youngblood Strikefile 1
Music: When We All Fall Asleep, Where Do We Go?, Billie Eilish (this is a great album, don't care what you say)

feelin’ a bit better today

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No more nausea, and the Imodium I took ended the diarrhea, but as it so often does, bound me right the fuck up, which will be worse in a day or two.

Drugs.

Can’t live with ’em, can’t just enjoy being high.

Target: 1300 words
Written: 1080 words, novel: Bad Neighbours

Read: The Last American Vampire, Seth Grahame-Smith
Comics: Brigade 2-3, Youngblood 0, 4
Music: When Under Ether, PJ Harvey

ugh, gas

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I’m now at my fourth (?) doctor telling me it’s just gas.

But really, when the pain is so severe, it doubles me over, or the distended belly comes out so far, I start getting lightheaded and threatening to pass out, is it really?

Why I can’t convince any one of these motherfuckers to get me some kind of test – ultrasound, scope, X-Ray, CAT, PET, MRI, I don’t even know which is best, but damn it.

Something.

Assholes.

Healthcare is fucked, and I’ll be honest, walking around like this?

There are points in the day where it’s so persistent and so severe that I’d rather not be walking around at all.

A little fucking help, guys.

Target: 1300 words
Written: 1632 words, novel: Bad Neighbours

Read: The Last American Vampire, Seth Grahame-Smith
Comics: Tomb Raider: Survivor's Crusade 3-4, Tomb Raider: Inferno 1-2
Music: When I Was Born For The 7th Time, Cornershop (featuring one of the catchiest tunes in 90s alternative history, but also, one of the songs that carries it on WAY too fucking long)

sunshine and puppies

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And beer. The local Barks ‘n’ Brew, always for a good cause, and a good time.

Beats yardwork, which is all I did this morning, after editing. I could use the break.

Every day seems more than a marathon, it’s a car chase, a manic Daniel Radcliffe running around with guns taped to his hands, a sprint with obstacles that goes the half-circuit.

I’m way too out of shape for it.

Target: 1300 words
Written: 1347 words, novel: Bad Neighbours

Read: SNAFU, Ed Helms
Comics: Tomb Raider v2 2-5
Music: West Coast Vs. Wessex, NOFX/Frank Turner (oh my god, Turner turning Fat Mike into a lyricist with his beautiful arrangements?  I love me some NOFX, but whoever would have thought?  Too bad the NOFX covers of his songs were... less good.  The second half of this album is brilliant.)