Category: personal

according to my calculations

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The Mungk should be finished in ten to fourteen days.

Then, onto the scarier phase – trying to fucking sell it.

Writing it is the easy part, compared to all the gladhanding and sending and trying to build audiences and dealing with the constant rejection.

And it’s a lot of rejection.

I think maybe sometimes that the whole universe has looked at me with the most cursory glance and said, nah. Not interested.

Dismissed out of hand by god.

The question is do we disappear, or do we get pissed and say, oh yeah? Look at me now, while smashing everything around them.

How you like me now?

Target: 1000 words
Written: 1173 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: I'll Be Gone In The Dark, Michelle McNamara
Comics: The Boys 47, The Boys: Highland Laddie 1-3
Music: Nazi Punks Fuck Off, Dead Kennedys (because, you know, fuck 'em. Fuck all the Nazis. I'm looking at you, Conservatives and Republicans.)

ultimate draft

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This is it.

The separation of M.T. Williams and his first grand creation (though not his first creation).

We are on the last draft prior to manuscript.

A dozen misfires and then the final blow.

Kind of exciting, if not also terrifying.

Funny how those two always seem to be in cahoots. Everything exciting should scare the shit out of you, right?

Right?

Hello?

Target: 1000 words
Written: 2040 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: Good Sex, Jessica Graham (not been helpful for focus, but hell on the libido)
Comics: The Boys 43-46
Music: Navy Blues, Sloan (feelin' Canuck the last couple of days)

a slim chance of hope

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Every day, I tell myself the same thing:

This, too, is the way. This, too, shall pass.

It’s a mantra that keeps me from screaming, or worse.

It’s ringing a little hollow these days. Perhaps it’s just another way to avoid taking action on the things that haunt me.

Perhaps.

Target: 1000 words
Written: 2287 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: Uncertainty: Turning Fear And Doubt Into Fuel For Brilliance, Jonathan Fields
Comics: The Boys 31-34
Music: Natural Born Killers, Nine Inch Nails

ticklish throat

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Luckily, it’s not from a cold or COVID or strep or whatever.

It’s from fucking potato chips.

I know better than to eat those things, because no matter how delicious, their deep fried goodness makes the bile rise in my throat as I sleep, causing me to rush to the washroom, down half a dozen or more Gaviscon and a couple of gallons of water, none of which staves off the dry tickle that will now relentlessly haunt me for the rest of the night.

So, here I am, again, sleep-deprived, coughing, wondering why the world won’t let me sleep.

Oh, right, potato chips.

Yeah.

I did this one to myself.

Target: 1000 words
Written: 2432 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: Uncertainty: Turning Fear And Doubt Into Fuel For Brilliance, Jonathan Fields
Comics: The Boys 29-30, The Boys: Herogasm 1-2
Music: Naked, Talking Heads

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