avril

I forgot how much I enjoy a good concert.

The shared experience, even if the music isn’t necessarily your style; it’s special. As much of an introvert who hates crowds as I am, I appreciated the experience.

The girls loved it.

And good for Avril; she put on a good show, if a bit low energy.

Anyway, it’s fun to get lost in a wall of sound.

I should like to do it more often.

Target: 1200 words
Written: 825 words, novel: Bad Neighbours

Read: The Pilgrim's Regress, C.S. Lewis
Comics: Fathom: Kiani v3 2-4, Fathom: Annual 1
Music: It's Only Rock 'n' Roll, The Rolling Stones

live music

It’s been a long time since I went to a concert, and Avril Lavigne wouldn’t exactly be my first choice, but I’m looking forward to it.

Not only is it huge good dad/husband/uncle points, it should still be pretty fun. I’m not a huge fan or anything, but as far as bubblegum pop goes, she’s hardly the worst thing out there.

You couldn’t drag me to a Lady Gaga show, and if the word boy band has ever been used to describe it, I’d rather exfoliate with hydrochloric acid.

(The first is dramatically overrated and the second is the apotheosis of everything wrong with the corporatization of music.)

Still. Could be cool, and the girls should love it.

What’s the word for when it makes you happy to see the people you love happy?

Oh, right.

Compersion.

I’m hoping to be fully compersed.

Target: 1200 words
Written: 765 words, novel: Bad Neighbours

Read: The Pilgrim's Regress, C.S. Lewis (what the fuck am I reading?  World's greatest strawman arguments?)
Comics: Fathom v5 6-8, Fathom: Kiani v3 1
Music: It's Not Me, It's You, Lily Allen (fuck you)

tenors

It’s hard to write from viewpoints you don’t understand. Like, I’ve referenced the Three Tenors a couple of times in Bad Neighbours, as a symbol of higher art, but it’s something to which I’d never listen. I’m sure it’s whatever, but I’m way more into people being genuine in their art; singing opera never felt truly genuine to me. It’s more about technique than emotion, more about the mastery of a skill than the genuine connection to the source material.

You can cover a song and imbue it with real meaning, but it’s when you use the song as a way to show off your skills that you lose me. It’s why I never gave a shit about Eddie Van Halen. Yeah, he was technically gifted, but there was as much genuine humanity and emotion in his work as Milli Vanilli. It’s also why I think AC/DC is brilliant. No, there’s no depth of lyrics there, and yes, Angus is as gifted as Eddie Van Halen, but you can tell when you listen to their songs, they fucking love what they do. They are themselves, unapologetically, and that, on its own, makes it worthy of a listen.

It’s the difference between a song sung with meaning in a show (see Daisy Jones & The Six) versus a standard musical. The gang covering Ooh La La had meaning to the plot, and added depth to the story. When they hamhand it into something like Riverdale or pretentious garbage like Moulin Rouge, it takes away from the story.

Musicals are bad for the same reason “show, don’t tell” is the rule in good writing. It’s exposition with a backbeat, and that pulls me right out of it. I no longer feel a connection to the characters or the material; you’re just preaching at me, and using a rhythm to do it.

Target: 1200 words
Written: 1098 words, novel: Bad Neighbours

Read: King Rat, China Mieville (speaking of pretention and music, really, drum & bass as the apotheosis of music, the saviour of all things and the base for communism?  Jesus, why do people like this guy?  Christ, what pretentious twaddle)
Comics: Fathom v2 9-11, Fathom: Kiani 0
Music: isolation drills, gbv

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: No Security, The Rolling Stones

ridin’ 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: Nina Simone Essentials, Nina Simone (probably the only good thing that'll happen all day)

slept 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: New York, Lou Reed

the 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: Nervous & Weird, Everclear (words to describe oneself by)

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: Neck Of The Woods, Silversun Pickups

birthdates

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, aesthetics, 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: Money Will Roll Right In, Nirvana (cover, I think? Mudhoney?)