Category: personal

well how about that

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I’m still writing about feces and doormats.

Steinbeck wrote about the Great Depression. Fitzgerald about the vapidity of the rich.

Shakespeare wrote of love and loss and tragedy, of empire and family.

And I’m writing about feces on a doormat.

Perhaps I’m not really cut out for this whole literary genius thing. I’m the Meatballs of the Great Canadian Novel. This generation’s A Clockwork Orange is actually a rendition of Porky’s, by way of American Pie.

Porky’s did bring us Kim Cattrall, however, and that’s a fucking gift.

Screw Sarah Jessica Parker. I never liked her anyway.

Target: 1400 words
Written: 2321 words, novel: Bad Neighbours

Read: The Never-Ending Present, Michael Barclay (and now I'm crying, damn it)
Comics: Fables 1-4 (finally, something good)
Music: Which Side Are You On?, Anti-Flag (something we all need to decide)

icons i won’t be

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I used to want to be William Gibson or George Orwell or J.R.R. Tolkien. Even in my modern days, I idolize Doris Lessing, Andrzej Sapkowski and Thomas Wolfe.

I doubt any of them ever had to write a scene where a fat boor took a messy dump on someone’s front stoop.

Perhaps I should set my sights lower.

Like, MAD magazine or National Lampoon lower.

I’d love to be e.e. cummings or Gord Downie. I’d love to write with the sensitivity of Alan Moore or the abstraction of Kelly Sue Deconnick. Kafka, Chekhov, Palahniuk.

And I’m writing about a fat guy’s feces.

Maybe someday, I could reach even Second City.

Target: 1400 words
Written: 1488 words, novel: Bad Neighbours

Read: The Never-Ending Present, Michael Barclay
Comics: Youngblood v7 #1 (oh dear god, another reboot, with a storytelling style that's no better than it was in the first Youngblood miniseries.  Give up, man.  This shit ain't working.)
Music: Where You Been, Dinosaur Jr.

reminders

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This book is reminding me of why I love the Hip, and Gord Downie in particular, and why my heroes went from being rebels who gave everyone the finger, to nice people who weren’t afraid of hard truths and dark places.

Loudmouth boors be damned.

Give me a soft-spoken purveyor of real things, dark and light, any day.

Target: 1400 words
Written: 1407 words, novel: Bad Neighbours

Read: The Never-Ending Present, Michael Barclay
Comics: Youngblood v6 4-7
Music: Where Have All The Merrymakers Gone?, Harvey Danger (one of my youthful favourites)

it’s nice to be reminded

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Of just how bad you are at art.

How on another plane artists like Gord Downie, Lou Reed, Patti Smith and Leonard Cohen are.

How other people understand that.

How you’re a fucking peon and a boor, a shitpile no-talent with no future and no gravitas.

But hey, I wrote a book about the monster under the bed, and a guy getting humped by a dog, so there’s that.

Target: 1400 words
Written: 687 words, novel: Bad Neighbours

Read: The Never-Ending Present, Michael Barclay
Comics: Bloodstrike v2 2, Youngblood v6 1-3
Music: When We All Fall Asleep, Where Do We Go?, Billie Eilish (this is a great album, don't care what you say)

the never ending story

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I do not understand what is happening with this book. I usually read for about an hour or so a day, which moves me usually about fifty to a hundred pages, depending on the depth of the text, font size, readability, how much dialogue the writer is prone to use, etc.

But this book, The Never-Ending Present, is weirdly entirely out of character. I read for an hour, to move maybe four to five percent on the Kindle. It shouldn’t take more than a week max; it’s now been five days and I’m only barely a quarter of the way through.

Not that I care that much, because it’s about the journey and not the target, but I’m definitely not hitting that reading target I set at the beginning of the year. A stretch goal for me was ninety books; I think of the minimum as a book a week. Basically, four to seven days on average per novel.

I may have to amend that if I’m going to read like this from now on.

Still, I’m enjoying it; anything Gord Downie is my spirit animal.

I just don’t understand why the slow pace, despite the effort.

Target: 1400 words
Written: 2345 words, novel: Bad Neighbours

Read: The Never-Ending Present, Michael Barclay
Comics: Youngblood v5 76-78, Bloodstrike v2 1
Music: When Under Ether, PJ Harvey

happy birthday, brother

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Thanks for inviting us.

Oh wait, you didn’t.

Still, it’s cool. I guess.

Enjoy being an old man. The rest of us are only getting younger.

Target: 1400 words
Written: 1457 words, novel: Bad Neighbours

Read: The Never-Ending Present, Michael Barclay
Comics: Bloodstrike 29-30, Youngblood v5 73-74
Music: When In Rome, When In Rome (how did this get in my playlist?)

happy birthday, father

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Usually, we do this somewhere southern, but hey, Texas is fucking out.

Hopefully, the best birthday gift will come today, in Trump’s sudden downfall.

Target: 1400 words
Written: 1117 words, novel: Bad Neighbours

Read: The Never-Ending Present, Michael Barclay
Comics: Bloodstrike 27-28, Youngblood v5 71-72
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 catchiest tunes that carries on WAY TOO FUCKING LONG)

remember, remembrance

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I’ll be honest. I grew up on tales of World War II. My grandfather was in the army, although he didn’t talk about it a ton.

He did tell me a story I turned into a book for a project in public school; years later, I’d find it and discover he’d related the Great Escape. He was proud of his deployment though; I believe he was a medic. He still had his uniform folded and pressed in the attic, along with a number of commendations, letters from my grandmother and pictures of him in gear.

I should probably look into that.

Anyway, thanks, Grandad, for either punching Nazis or healing the ones that did, whichever it was.

I’m sorry we’ve let them come back into power. I am ashamed for us.

We will do better, I promise.

At least, I will. I can’t make any promises for these other assholes.

Target: 1400 words
Written: 2203 words, novel: Bad Neighbours

Read: The Picture Of Dorian Gray, Oscar Wilde
Comics: Youngblood Imperial 1, Youngblood v4 1-3
Music: Wheatus, Wheatus (fuck, earworm - it's going to get me days to get rid of Teenage Dirtbag)