midnight peeing, redux

I’m not sure what’s causing this pattern, but it’s definitely not sustainable long term.

I am exhaustion, in human form.

I am Jack’s struggling body, fighting off oblivion.

Exhaustion, thou art a curse, and no amount of coffee can fend thee off.

Target: 800 words
Written: 222 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: The Faceless Old Woman Who Secretly Lives In Your Home, Fink/Cranor
Comics: The Magdalena/Vampirella 1, The Magdalena v2 1-3
Music: Unplugged, Guns 'n' Roses (Jesus Christ, which one of them thought One In A Million was anything other than bigoted bullshit?)

work drama

You’d think a place I left ten years ago wouldn’t have any power over me, but they’re still playing their same games with my wife.

What a fucking joke.

A few years before I left, the owner changed from one brother to another, and unlike the original brother, who was very hands on, and respected work, the new one brought in others to run it for him.

I gather he’s largely absent now, and has left the running of the joint to this incredibly narcissistic piece of shit he brought in who destroyed the whole “work hard, do the right thing” culture in favour of one that emphasizes pettiness and sycophancy.

One thing I am not is a fucking sycophant. Others can lick that brown, but I’m only doing that for a woman I’m trying to get off. Some ego-driven prick can go fuck himself.

Anyway, after a couple of years of busting my ass, doing all the work, the right things and watching as others, who had done nothing but kiss up move on past me and take credit for my work and ideas, of watching friends and co-workers, good people who worked hard, get fucked over and stigmatized because they didn’t lick this man-child’s boots, I left.

Unfortunately, my wife stayed.

She’d dropped into a nice space where everyone left her alone to run her team. Hell, I’m not sure they even know what her team does, despite it being kind of critical. This man, to whom she is a direct report, hasn’t talked to her in four years.

FOUR.

YEARS.

Could you imagine having a boss that didn’t bother to speak to you for four years? Well, in this case, it’s a fucking blessing.

Unfortunately, by law, they were required to create a pay equity chart, ensuring they weren’t paying women less than men for the same job and so on (they were, surprise). Mostly, they used it to reward themselves and their sycophants, but in doing so, they left my wife completely off the list, and the team she runs on the same level as the custodians (a huge slap in the face for a highly specialized group of porting experts).

Well, despite the fact that she didn’t want to make waves, because of the quiet little nook they’d found themselves, she was compelled to ask by her team and her own need for a raise, which everyone else seemed to have gotten.

She didn’t do it rudely or aggressively. She just said: hey, my team has questions about their place on the list, can you explain or re-evaluate? Oh, and also, you’ve left me off the list.

She didn’t ask for money or promotion or anything like that. But all the other leaders of specialized teams were listed explicitly; several bumped in pay. She wasn’t even on the list. Maybe it was an oversight.

Well, guess what?

This motherfucker and the other ass-kissing sycophants and petty pricks who made the list decided “HOW DARE SHE”.

I mean, dude. You fucked up. You forgot her on the list. Just put her on the list. Simple oversight. It doesn’t actually even require the bump in pay (though it probably should). Just add her to the list.

Nope.

Vindictive motherfuckers, for having the temerity to point out that they missed her on the list, they’ve gone on a hellbent drive to destroy her and her team, removing people, automating shit and screwing around her hours.

Oh, and that pay equity list? After six weeks of no answer, they came back stating your team is where it’s supposed to be, and despite you being the leader of the team and having explicitly written out a hundred things you do beyond what your team does, we’ve decided that your duties are not sufficiently different enough to require your own classification. Never mind the fact that as leader, her responsibilities are different, that she’s got more responsibility, more accountability and that EVERY OTHER LEADER HAS THEIR OWN DESIGNATION.

Nope.

Fuck you. You’re not on the list.

Everything that’s happened since she reached out has been a product of the vindictiveness of small, insecure men and their tiny… egos, aghast that someone who wasn’t an asskisser dared to question them.

Keep in mind that she didn’t even want to point it out. Her team begged her to say something. I told her she should, because maybe it was just an oversight, not reckoning on the fact that this piece of shit and his cronies were truly this horrible of people.

And she didn’t ask aggressively. She was as demure as she could be, like a timid little mouse begging for the tiniest little piece of cheese, off a block big as a house. Four years of no contact, and the first time she reaches out, they set out to destroy and punish her and her whole team.

For asking the questions they were supposed to ask about placement in the Pay Equity act. Fuck sakes, they requested feedback, specifically if they missed anyone.

That fucking place is the shits, and that man has absolutely destroyed any culture of doing the right thing or being, you know, good people. I’d love to come back one day as a consultant bent on culling the wheat, because ninety percent of upper management would be gone the first day.

Useless, overpaid, insecure pricks who contribute nothing and make everyone else miserable.

Christ, the PTSD from that place is strong; my blood pressure jumps 10-15 points just thinking about it.

What bothers me most of all is the choice being put to her now, and it’s complete shit. Stay silent, play ball, let them abuse her and punish her and her team, or fight back and probably get canned.

And as she’s said, we don’t have that fight in us anymore.

Sure, we could tie that up in legalities for years, but man, who has that kind of time and money? I know the HR guy there; he sculpts dismissals around the fact that they’ll challenge the company’s garbage behaviour in court. He makes the initial offer big enough that fighting back means losing money, for lesser reward. He’s told me this, to my face, back when I was running their tech support.

Let ’em come, he says. We’ll throw so much money at it, drag it out for years. We’ll bankrupt them before they ever see a dime or a decision, and when they get it, it will probably be less. Take that, minorities and other people we’ve bullied and/or screwed over.

Where’s the justice in that?

Is this what the Pay Equity Act was meant to do, Canadian government? To allow pieces of garbage another outlet to punish those they don’t like, to bully and silence them into subservience, with the threat of ruining their lives consistently hanging over their heads in the petty, tiny hands of a insecure egotist whose narcissism and need for constant validation overruns everything he does?

There is no justice in this world unless pieces of shit like that are held accountable for their godawful behaviour, and can no longer use their positions of power to silence good, hardworking people just trying to get by.

It’s fucking criminal.

Target: 800 words
Written: 2276 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: Hail To The Chin: Further Confessions Of A B Movie Actor, Ash Williams
Comics: Untold Tales Of I Hate Fairyland v2 5, I Hate Fairyland v2 11-13
Music: The Rolling Stones Rock 'N' Roll Circus, The Stones et al

rondeau joe’s, v2

Well, that was worth over a pound and a half.

Jesus.

For a fucking wrap. These little country restaurants, always sticking it to the people with their damn good food.

Whatever shall we do?

Target: 800 words
Written: 1216 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: White Hot Truth, Danielle Laporte (she's so close to that breakthrough, but giving up all the woo woo means the end of her career, even if it means the peace and joy she seeks.  An idea that just fails to take that last step to true enlightenment - the addiction to self-help is strong.)
Comics: Untold Tales Of I Hate Fairyland 15-16, Image 12, I Hate Fairyland v2 6
Music: Remixed Stuff, Beastie Boys

rondeau

Here we go, Rondeau Joe’s.

I’ve managed to lose a few pounds of late, so why the fuck not?

Let’s undo all the hard work.

The restraint.

There are days where I wonder why we are punished to live.

There are days where an end would be preferable to continuation.

There are days.

But then, there’s food and that allows me to combine enjoyment and a death wish, so I guess we’re all good.

Target: 800 words
Written: 976 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: White Hot Truth, Danielle Laporte
Comics: Untold Tales Of I Hate Fairyland 11-14
Music: Random Pranks, Gnarkill

weird

I had to get up with Sofi in the storm last night and given that I didn’t want her getting stuck under the bed again, I brought her downstairs, where I proceeded to have my best sleep in a week.

On the couch.

What the actual fuck?

What’s wrong with me?

Is the exhaustion so palpable that I could have slept on a pile of jagged rocks?

A bed of knives?

A lava bed?

(A waterbed with lava, for the uneducated).

I’m sorry. That was rude and unnecessary. In terms of the grand scheme of things, we’re all uneducated.

Target: 800 words
Written: 914 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: Grimm's Fairy Tales, Grimm Bros (finally, fucking finally - not as bad as Hans, but still.  Pretty bad.)
Comics: Untold Tales Of I Hate Fairyland 3-6
Music: Unknown Pleasures, Interpol

storm’s a-coming

Picture that in Jasper’s voice from The Simpsons. There’s a big one coming tonight, which means no sleep again when Sofi loses her shit.

I need sleep. Desperately.

I’m so tired.

So tired of everything. And everyone.

Target: 800 words
Written: 559 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: Grimm's Fairy Tales, Grimms
Comics: Twig 4-5, Image! 5-6
Music: Live Things, Rolling Stones (so much Stones)

friday, finally

This weekend, we’ll dive deeper on the whole “ask forgiveness, not permission” thing, but for now, today, it’s migraine o’clock with a full work day ahead of me.

The seventh draft begins, like a seventh seal broken, and things can only go down from here.

Target: 800 words
Written: 259 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: Tao Te Ching (Ursula Leguin edition)
Comics: Middlewest 15-18
Music: Live Things, Nirvana

blood pressure

I’ve been tracking my blood pressure for a bit now, trying to figure out if I’m about to have a stroke or an aneurysm or heart attack or something fun like that.

I’ve started noticing a rise whenever I’m in the office. I’m not eating differently, not really, so that’s not really a factor. If anything, because there’s more walking involved, I’m getting more exercise.

Is there an inherent level of stress involved in any work that isn’t soul work that automatically puts our health at risk?

I think we’d be hard pressed to say no.

Motherfuckers.

Target: 800 words
Written: 734 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: 'Salem's Lot, Stephen King
Comics: Middlewest 3-6
Music: Again With The Live Stuff, Iggy Pop

tumult

I’m looking forward to the end, I think. I don’t want it to come until I’ve met all my goals, but I think it might be a relief.

The hope is that I don’t lose the ability to do all this stuff before I go, or turn into some mediocre shade.

Or worse, give up.

Fucking suffering, fucking with a purpose. Endless pleasure and a cacophony of orgasm is the end goal, after we get through all the awkward and uncomfortable talk about whether it’s okay to kiss or hold hands.

We’ll get to the kink when it’s time to spice things up, I suppose.

Target: 800 words
Written: 191 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: Brothers Of Earth, CJ Cherryh (I might even finish this, finally)
Comics: Bully Wars 5, I Hate Fairyland 1-3
Music: Random Covers, Nirvana

last day in paradise

Took a trip up to Haileybury, just for giggles and beer.

Not that we were booze cruising. I’m just an aficionado of food and drink, from greasy spoon to Michelin star, from lagers to merlot and back again to scotch and cigars.

I don’t know why. I know it’s all bad for you.

But not in moderation.

And in moderation, we do fine.

Of course, kimchi burger, a stout and later, a bison burger and an IPA may not be the moderation we seek.

Oh, well.

It could also be the coward’s method of self-harm. A slow motion death, in concert with the rest of the planet.

Anyway, it has been beautiful here, despite the family fights, the neighbour fights, the complete lack of downtime or quiet moments to read more than a handful of pages and constant activity in our cabin.

I want to walk into the woods and stay there, but I am ill prepared. I am no outdoorsman.

I wouldn’t last ten minutes.

Target: 800 words
Written: 865 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: Brothers Of Earth, CJ Cherryh
Comics: The Crow: Pestilence 1-4
Music: Random Music, again - Pearl Jam, The Rolling Stones, Todd Snider, Spacehog