Category: personal

birthdates

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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?)

shocker

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Karma actually came back on someone.

Turns out, when you keep going over people’s heads and make spurious claims about how busy you are when you have to work alone, despite the fact that no one else is even remotely busy at that time of day and you’re known to be way too goddamned slow at everything because you’re too busy going over people’s heads to bitch instead of just doing your fucking job, which screws over everyone’s schedules as the upper management plays stupid games and takes you at face value, it doesn’t actually protect you from getting cut when they realize that they don’t actually need that many people.

I’m surprised. Between this and the easy sink fix, the universe rarely works this way.

At least, not for me. The universe may be just; humanity certainly is not.

Target: 1000 words
Written: 734 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: Words For Pictures, Brian Michael Bendis
Comics: The Boys 21-24
Music: Utopia, Bjork

better already

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Man, sometimes, you just have to suck it up and take your medicine (if you can afford the medicine, which is a whole other issue, and thank goodness, I live in Canada, at least until Poilievre gets in, which he looks increasingly likely to do, the slimy, deceitful fuck).

Sofi’s better already. Two doses of antibiotic and some probiotic and she’s already pooped, slept through the night and seems so much more content.

Poor baby.

I wish she didn’t have to go through that. Would that no one would, but I suppose it shapes character.

Still, that’s kind of bullshit. We can learn through happiness as much as we can through sorrow.

We just don’t.

Target: 1000 words
Written: 1872 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: Words For Pictures, Brian Michael Bendis
Comics; The Boys 17-20
Music: Use Your Illusion II, Guns 'n' Roses

trading one stuck for another

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No longer just the sink, now, it’s poor Sofi, who probably needs an enema and hopefully, nothing worse.

Poor girl; she hasn’t pooped since Sunday.

Maybe I should try that sink plunger on her bum.

No?

Target: 1000 words
Written: 493 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: The Mungk
Comics: The Boys 13-16
Music: Use Your Illusion I, Guns 'n' Roses

shocked

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So, like, I used a sink hand plunger and in less than ten seconds, the clog was gone, and I had the rest of my day back.

I was so confused; things never go that easy.

I was prepared to hacksaw off the stripped P-Trap and replace it, and all this good crazy shit; I thought my whole day was shot.

Naturally, I couldn’t believe my luck – things never work out like that for me.

There had to be another shoe, waiting, hanging.

And there was. Sofi was up all night, going outside and straining, unable to poop. I slept a grand total of one and a half hours.

Nice one, universe. Fuck you.

Target: 1000 words
Written: 2258 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: Swiss Family Robinson, Johann David Wyss
Comics: The Boys 9-12
Music: Use Your Fingers, Bloodhound Gang

fighting back against the sewer

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I am armed now with my hexes (sink plungers) and my salt circles (auger) and if need be, I will call upon the seventh circle of hell to release a demon of greater standing to devour my foe. A Beelzebub of epic proportions with which to suck the very soul of this foul block.

(a wet-dry vac and a new P-trap)

Such is my life now. No wonder plumbers make the good money.

Target: 1000 words
Written: 1960 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: Swiss Family Robinson, Johann David Wyss
Comics: The Boys 5-8
Music: New Values, Iggy Pop

given up

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I guess we’re just abandoning the bathroom sink.

Moving out probably.

Whatever’s stuck down there is stronger than me. Possibly primordial. Almost definitely of the Seventh Circle, or some ancient mystical Lovecraftian shit.

Crap.

Is the Mungk in my pipes?

No, that bastard would never be so goddamned silent.

Target: 900 words
Written: 410 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: Swiss Family Robinson, Johann David Wyss
Comics: The Boys 1-4
Music: Us Against The Crown, State Radio (me against the plug, really)

still stuck

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I’m blowing this thing up like a goddamn volcano at an elementary school science fair and it still won’t budge.

What the fuck is down there?

Fucking pipes existing as real goddamned life metaphors.

What the fuck is stuck, so deep down inside?

Target: 900 words
Written: 1193 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: Robinson Crusoe, Daniel Defoe
Comics: Angelus 4-6
Music: Urban Hymns, The Verve (one of my all-time favourite albums... simply one of the best)

stuck plug

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My bathroom sink is suddenly completely plugged. Like, no drainage whatsoever.

Tried Drano, tried boiling water, snake, plunger, nothing but silt and shit coming up.

I’m not sure how; all that ever goes down there is toothpaste, and the occasional whiskers (and long blonde hair that I try to clean out of the trap.)

And yet, suddenly, today, like the rest of my day. Totally fucked.

Totally stuck.

Like me, seemingly forever.

Target: 900 words
Written: 1065 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: Robinson Crusoe, Daniel Defoe
Comics: Angelus: Pilot Season 1, Angelus 1-3
Music: Uptown Special, Mark Ronson (my attempt to find something upbeat - it didn't work)

serial

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So, I’ve been writing for a long time. I’ve published a couple of things, written many that I’ve never sent anywhere, but I’ve never run into a piece that I wrote, but of which, I have absolutely no recollection.

Like none.

And here’s the thing. It’s fucking tight. It’s polished. It’s not revelatory or mindbending or anything, but it’s very good, for what it is.

And I remember absolutely nothing about it.

Even the topic isn’t one I’d usually write on – a serial dater who falls madly in love, then loses love, goes into a Young Werther style depression, then meets the next one and does the same thing.

It’s not long, but the characters are well fleshed out, the story has solid details and telling moments. The whole thing comes a nice full circle.

And as far as I can tell, I went into a fugue state to write it, printed it off, gave it to my wife to read and then wiped it from my memory so completely, I might as well be one of those walking, tired tropes from a Hallmark movie, that gets bonked on the head and loses the ability to remember anything except the skills they had and how to speak English.

Fucking. Weird.

And yet. Still somehow good enough to be published?

What. The. Fuck.

Target: 900 words
Written: 921 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: The Hepatitis Bathtub And Other Stories, NOFX
Comics: 100 Bullets 93-96 (so close, I'm practically giddy)
Music: The Uplift Mofo Party Plan, Red Hot Chili Peppers