wait, blowdryers cause cancer?

This is a new one on me, that I just heard today.

How? Too much… air?

Heat?

Do your hair release dangerous radioactive particles under pressure of wind and fire?

Is there some kind of magnetic field like a microwave?

Are people that blowdry their hair more likely to smoke and eat fish filled with mercury?

How is this possible?

Jesus, this world is the shits.

Target: 300 words
Written: 733 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: Sex Rx, Lauren Streicher
Comics: Sex Criminals 25-28
Music: John Henry, They Might Be Giants

end of training

And I’m on my own.

Spreading my wings. Still learning, taking tentative steps, shaky in the knees, and all that.

But luckily, I have a headache and exhaustion to go with it.

Target: 300 words
Written: 146 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: Sex Rx, Lauren Streicher
Comics: Sex Criminals 21-24
Music: Jimmy James - Single EP, Beastie Boys

spent

It’s 7:34AM and I feel like I’m already spent.

Granted, my day starts typically at 4:50AM, so I’ve been up almost three hours.

I’ve written a bit, did some yoga and some meditation, thought about the state of world, wondered why the hell so many of these insane right wingers continue to get away with shit that is clearly illegal and no one appears to be even considering charges, wondered if I’m capable of writing humanity changing works, but it won’t matter because climate change and divisive, authoritarian politics will kill us all before it can make an impact, wondered if aliens would find these pages years later and not be able to understand a damn word, showered, maybe thought about sex a little (because I do so roughly every three minutes) and then peed, ate breakfast, made coffee, fed the dogs, let the dogs, gave the dogs their joint medication, fed the cats, unloaded/loaded the dishwasher, played Wordle and Worldle, a game of Go on a 9×9 board with a 8 stone handicap (because I need it, apparently), then sat down and went over my to-do list, what’s left of it.

And I’ve a whole workday ahead of me.

Shit.

Target: 300 words
Written: 227 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: Sex Rx, Lauren Streicher
Comics: Sex Criminals 17-20
Music: Jimmy Buffett Essentials, Jimmy Buffett (fuck you, Jimmy rocks)

home again

Quick’ems.

Fun weekend, too much food, too many snacks. My blood pressure and my waistline have suffered.

My soul has not.

Children are good for the heart.

Grandchildren even more so.

Target: 300 words
Written: 239 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: Face It, Debbie Harry
Comics: Sex Criminals 1-4 (I wish I was Fraction)
Music: Jello's Revenge (Bootleg!), Dead Kennedys

nerve unpinched

Hallelujah!

I was worried I tore a muscle or had one of those fucking impingements like I had in my twenties, caught blocking a spike in a beach volleyball, that lasted roughly eight years, before I decided to do physio.

(Also, benefits – I didn’t have benefits for a while, and booze was a more effective use of my money than physio. Numbs the pain and/or makes it irrelevant, plus, you know, fun!)

The pain is still there, but way less than it was yesterday, so wherever it was pinched, it’s better now.

Hallelujah. Back to work then, without the pain, and hopefully, with better focus (although, it’s not looking good).

Maybe booze would help.

Target: 300 words
Written: 812 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: Is Your Genius At Work?, Dick Richards (Dick Dicks!)
Comics: Fight Club 3 10-12
Music: Jar Of Flies + Sap, Alice In Chains (I mean, No Excuses and Got Me Wrong are straight earworms, right?)

fucked up shoulder

You know how sometimes, the most ridiculous injuries don’t come from extreme sports or epic falls or massive collisions?

You know how sometimes, everything’s going along just peachy, minus the high blood pressure, and then, you grab a towel, to dry your dog off, after she goes out to pee?

You know how you not particularly vigorously towel her off, and then somehow, pull or pinch something in your shoulder so there’s acute, stabbing pain every time you reach up or pull something, anything, like a drawer or a cat dish off the floor?

You know, that stuff. Happens every day.

Use a towel, fuck your shoulder.

I am in terrible shape, apparently.

Target: 300 words
Written: 973 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: One Small Step Can Change Your Life: The Kaizen Way, Robert Maurer (fave?)
Comics: Fight Club 3 6-9
Music: Janis Joplin Essentials, Janis Joplin, Jar Of Flies, Alice In Chains (if you don't dig Janis, what the fuck are you even doing with your life?)