Take me away to paradise.
Please.
Target: 1100 words
Written: 948 words, novel: Bad Neighbours
Read: The Last Wish, Andrzej Sapkowski
Comics: Kick-Ass v3 1-4
Music: It's Alive, RamonesCategory: music
comfort
I miss the comfort in being sad, as Kurt Cobain once opined.
Being sad is bad. But it’s better than in a constant of conflict. One can accept sadness as it is, live in it, find one’s way through it.
Conflict for the sake of conflict?
It’s going to be a tough go while I’m working at Bad Neighbours and it’s the constant contemplation of the incompatibility of viewpoints, left and right, and the futility of anger.
The inability of consequence. The pure rage of missing justice.
The absence of karma, or rather, its lethargic, procrastinating nature.
It may come around, but when? And how fucking long?
Quite frankly, too many assholes have died peacefully in their sleep on top of their piles of money, surrounded by a beautiful wife, successful children and a mistress with glittery fake boobs.
Karma does not reward waiting.
Justice is not automatic.
Target: 1100 words
Written: 920 words, novel: Bad Neighbours
Read: Amatka, Karin Tidbeck
Comics: The Maxx 20-22, Gen13/Maxx 1
Music: II, Presidents Of The United States Of Americaridin’ off into the sunset
I think there’s a significant portion of us that would love to drive off down the highway in a fast convertible, beautiful woman beside us, no cares, flaunting social norms, cranking tunes, mooning and flashing the passersby, outrunning the cops, and then pulling over on an out of the way back road to fuck on the hood about every couple of hours.
It’s a young person’s game, of course, and if you’ve ever paid any attention to one of these stories, they’re always freeing, but they all end in tragedy.
Because there’s no such thing as freedom without responsibility, and while I think we should all feel free to flash our tits down Main St, or eat a pussy in the grass, carefree can also be careless.
Every high has its hangover.
At some point, reality comes crashing in, and we have a choice. Figure out how to live the adventure while taking care of business, or how to go out in a blaze of glory.
Viable choices, all.
Target: 1000 words
Written: 374 words, short story: Forest Edge
Read: Tropic Of Kansas, Christopher Brown
Comics: Preacher 60-63
Music: I Might Be Wrong: Live Recordings, Radioheadslept in
Until EIGHT. In the AM!
Crazy, right?
I haven’t had more than about six or seven hours of sleep in months, without being ill.
Of course, I’m ill today, but fuck it. I am using this downtime to push forward hard on the things that I love – writing, reading, comics, with a side of meditation, exercise, cooking and music.
That’s pretty much the sum total, although I think travel, sex, video games, and various other sundry storytelling mediums also play a part.
What else could you possibly need? A greater purpose? People who love you? Righteous vengeance?
I don’t know, but I’m feeling better, anyway.
Still sick, but hell if I couldn’t use eight to ten hours every night.
Target: 1000 words
Written: 2575 words, comic: Western Cradle #2
Read: The Autobiography Of Malcolm X, Malcolm X/Alex Haley
Comics: Preacher: Saint Of Killers 1-2, Preacher 17-18
Music: Nowhere Generation I & II, Rise Againstthe mungk – playlist
I like to do a playlist for anything I write. I don’t set it up before I start writing; what happens is that random songs or albums play, and things grow organically from that.
Sometimes, as you’re writing or editing, a song will come on that perfectly matches the tone and feel of what you’re working on, and so, becomes inseparable. Probably half of the songs on this list came that way.
Other times, it’s more intellectual; I need a certain theme or mood, so we search through the piles until I find something that fits. See, all the shadow and nightmare songs.
Sometimes, it’s filler, because a song didn’t fit the theme, so you get “clever” and try and find something to wedge in there (see Helpless Dancer, which I thought spoke a bit to the theme of pointlessness and running us down over a lifetime of traumas, mini-traumas and unfairness.)
Anyway, in the end, I get something that helps me really feel the book, feel the story. I will never hear Skyscraper again without thinking about pulling up to the little country house, nor will I not think of Alice whenever Run comes over my headphones or speakers.
Enjoy. It’ll make more sense when the book comes out.
The House In The Country: Julian Plenti – Skyscraper
The First Appearance Of The Mungk: Alice Cooper – Welcome To My Nightmare
We’ll Get You A Nightlight: The Who – Helpless Dancer
What Does That Mungk Do?: Nirvana – Drain You
Cracks: L7 – Crackpot Baby
The Doctor: Snow Patrol – Run
Goodbye, Alice: Violent Femmes – I Know It’s True, But I’m Sorry To Say
Alice Aftermath: Billy Talent – Living In The Shadows
The Fight: INXS – Never Tear Us Apart
Bumps In The Night: The Rolling Stones – Have You Seen Your Mother, Baby, Standing In The Shadow?
The Power Goes Out: The Tragically Hip – Frozen In My Tracks
The Storm: Bruce Springsteen – My Father’s House
The Aftermath: Beck – Morning
Target: 1000 words
Written: 216 words, novella: The Mungk
Read: Mindset (do I have to write it all out? Be the growth mindset, kids), Dweck, Carol
Comics: The Boys: Dear Becky 7-8
Music: No Distance Left To Run, Blur (huh... timing, right?)manuscriptin’
No time for love, Dr. Jones.
This should be epic (and probably not be done today).
Intense concentration incoming.
So we pray. Bring on the Patti Smith and the Kurt Cobain. Gonna need all the classics for this level of focus.
Target: 1000 words
Written: 9100 words, novella: The Mungk
Read: The Sorrows Of Young Werther, Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe
Comics: The Boys: Butcher, Baker, Candlestick Maker 2-5
Music: Nirvana, Nirvanabirthdates
My niece turns seventeen today, which is insane to me, but that’s time, I guess. Time is weird.
The bond she’s formed with my wife pleases me to no end. You’d swear they were actual daughter and mother, except there’s no fighting, only a intense shared love of crafts, esthetics, music, etc.
She and I bond over music as well, but she’s more of a Swiftie/Rodrigo/Roan girl and if you’ve paid attention to my musical choices, I am… not.
(That said, I actually don’t mind many of the new female pop stars; there’s way more depth there than there used to be, and they’re leaps and bounds ahead of their male compatriots. That said, I’m more impressed with T-Swift as a machine of longevity and Beatle-like clout, and I’m not really into Chappell Roan’s Amanda-Palmer-In-Pop-Star-Drag thing. If I want Amanda Palmer, I’ll listen to Amanda Palmer. Plus, that country song? I realize she’s the hot thing right now, so the critics all fellated the shit out of the song, but I strongly suspect that once they realize no one’s into it, they’ll crucify the poor girl for such a clearly misguided misstep that destroyed any authenticity she had in her brand.)
Anyway, happy birthday, kid. We love you.
Target: 1000 words
Written: 1535 words, novella: The Mungk
Read: Words For Pictures, Brian Michael Bendis
Comics: The Boys 25-28
Music: New York State Of Mind, Beastie Boyslet there be rock
I don’t care what how vapid and silly it might be, I fucking love AC/DC. There’s just something pure about the rock ‘n’ roll side of it (and they put on a hell of a show).
It’s like… innocent.
And not fake. That’s the thing about music. What draws me in isn’t really a catchy beat or cleverness or popularity – a song or band or singer can have all of these and be garbage.
What draws me in is how genuinely the band is into what they’re doing. It’s why great bands sometimes go off the rails by trying something pretentious and experimental, and simple, vapid bands like AC/DC can be glorious.
They are doing exactly what they want to do; they do it well. It’s clear there’s passion for the work there, no matter how much fluff it may be.
And that rocks.
Target: 900 words
Written: 459 words, novella: The Mungk
Read: Hunter Of Worlds, C.J. Cherryh
Comics: 100 Bullets 29-32
Music: On Avery Island, Neutral Milk Hotelrevelations that we pray are not
I’m not talking about the Bible (which, by the way, is bullshit, and anyone who’d actually read it would tell you right away it’s not something to be followed), but about personal revelations.
It occurred to me in the midst of making notes about editing for this ninth draft that I could be one of those people that has a repressed memory that they refuse to acknowledge, but which has subconsciously destroyed their entire life, and sent them so far off track from normal that there’s no real return.
It would explain a lot.
The problem is, I can’t think of any instance of that. I know my downward spiral began at twelve, when I was going through confirmation classes and I decided, because I am a completist weirdo, that I would read the Bible (so I guess I am talking about it).
Keep in mind that I’d really committed myself to being a holy little roller at the time, and I will say it again and again: nothing will turn you atheist more than actually reading the Bible cover to cover. If you’re not out by the end of Leviticus and its pro-slavery, anti-woman stance, then certainly, by the time Saul and David have committed their eighteenth genocide, you’ve got to be asking questions.
Anyway, that threw me sideways, because this was the dominant philosophical framework of the world around me, and if it was not only faulty, but downright evil, well, then, what to believe?
(The burgeoning alternative scene that came along around the same time didn’t help – thanks, Matt, for introducing me to INXS, Dead Kennedys and R.E.M, which led directly to grunge, punk and any manner of anti-social glory. I’m sorry I never got into Cannibal Corpse. Rest in peace, friend. I’m sorry it fucked you up even worse than me.)
Anyway, this repressed memory. What if I’m walking around with one of these things dictating how I interface with the world through a lens of trauma I wasn’t even away I had?
The world is spinning out. Please don’t be a revelation. I don’t want it to be.
Target: 900 words
Written: 904 words, novella: The Mungk
Read: The Wishsong Of Shannara, Terry Brooks
Comics: Once And Future 23-26
Music: Nebraska, Bruce Springsteenkick out the james
Every once in a while, I like to go back and read old posts to see if I’m being a complete idiot or asshole or if there’s actual insight in any of them.
Reminders of when things were good or bad. Reminders that this too shall pass.
Instead, I’m finding typos and mistakes, like that classic MC5 song, Kick Out The James.
Because, you know, fuck James, I guess.
Target: 800 words
Written: 391 words, novella: The Mungk
Read: It's Just A Thought, Thomas Sterner
Comics: Ain't No Grave 3-4
Music: ¡UNO!, Green Day