off the wagon

Not in the alcoholic, drug way, but in the fuck me, I can’t get a thing done way.

Exhaustion is in; focus is out.

Universe, save me from myself. Save me from trials and tribulations.

Save me.

Save me.

Save me.

If you can’t tell, I’m working on a motif.

Target: 800 words
Written: 1371 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: Grimm's Fairy Tales, Grimmies
Comics: Image! 7-9, I Hate Fairyland v2 1
Music: The Undiscovered Numbers And Colours, Foreign Objects

storm’s a-coming

Picture that in Jasper’s voice from The Simpsons. There’s a big one coming tonight, which means no sleep again when Sofi loses her shit.

I need sleep. Desperately.

I’m so tired.

So tired of everything. And everyone.

Target: 800 words
Written: 559 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: Grimm's Fairy Tales, Grimms
Comics: Twig 4-5, Image! 5-6
Music: Undisclosed Desires, Muse (apropos, I suppropose) <-- that's the staggering genius I'm talking about.

porch morning

The last couple of days have been nice. Sunlight filtering in through the spider plants and and aloe, turning Mazy’s hair even more golden, somehow. It’s nice in the silence.

Then, of course, other people, dogs barking, cats freaking out and an inability to reach my coffee.

Still, all things considered… this or a war zone, it’s no contest.

I am not bereft of peace.

Target: 800 words
Written: 621 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: Grimm's Fairy Tales, Bros Grimm
Comics: The Me You Love In The Dark 5, Image! 1-2, Twig 1
Music: Underground V5.0, Linkin Park

ride on

I’m not ready for the forgiveness conversation. Not yet. I know what I want to say, up in the head, but for now, suffice it to say that a better slogan would be this:

Don’t ask permission; don’t need forgiveness.

Show us you’ve thought about the consequences of your actions. Show us you’ve thought about the people and world around you. And if the gatekeepers are still unfair, still blocking creation, still blocking joy or sustenance or the application of basic human decency, well, then, fuck ’em.

Fuck ’em all.

Target: 800 words
Written: 1633 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: Grimm's Fairy Tales, Brothers Grimm
Comics: The Me You Love In The Dark 1-4
Music: Underground V4.0, Linkin Park

friday, finally

This weekend, we’ll dive deeper on the whole “ask forgiveness, not permission” thing, but for now, today, it’s migraine o’clock with a full work day ahead of me.

The seventh draft begins, like a seventh seal broken, and things can only go down from here.

Target: 800 words
Written: 259 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: Tao Te Ching (Ursula Leguin edition)
Comics: Middlewest 15-18
Music: Underground Network, Anti-Flag

blood pressure

I’ve been tracking my blood pressure for a bit now, trying to figure out if I’m about to have a stroke or an aneurysm or heart attack or something fun like that.

I’ve started noticing a rise whenever I’m in the office. I’m not eating differently, not really, so that’s not really a factor. If anything, because there’s more walking involved, I’m getting more exercise.

Is there an inherent level of stress involved in any work that isn’t soul work that automatically puts our health at risk?

I think we’d be hard pressed to say no.

Motherfuckers.

Target: 800 words
Written: 734 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: 'Salem's Lot, Stephen King
Comics: Middlewest 3-6
Music: Underclass Hero, Sum 41

in office days

They are the worst. There’s really no reason to be there. All it does is raise my tension levels, trigger my natural introvert’s social anxiety and make me work slower and worse.

I will not understand the reasons they want us to go in more often; the reason given was “camaraderie”, but fuck that. I’m not trading the peace and focus of quietude at home for a fucking high five from a co-worker.

Seriously. That was used as an example of why it’s worth coming into the office.

A fucking.

High.

Five.

Fuck that shit, Treasury Board. You’re either drunk, incompetent or power hungry.

None of these things qualify you for making decisions about other people’s lives.

If anything, they disqualify you.

Time to replace the leadership, methinks.

Target: 800 words
Written: 1230 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: 'Salem's Lot, Stephen King
Comics: I Hate Fairyland 19-20, Middlewest 1-2
Music: Under The Covers, Red Hot Chili Peppers

sadly, i know alcohol

Listen, it’s not actually an issue. I don’t show up drunk for my niece’s recitals or sneak whiskey shots from my desk drawer at the office.

But it’s there.

It’s a part of life.

I likely don’t exceed a six pack a week, and maybe a couple of glasses of wine. Like, a drink a night (although a lot of nights, I don’t have anything).

But what I am struggling with is whether a seven year old would call Jim Beam Mr. Beam or mis-hear it as Mr. Bean.

But do I want Rowan Atkinson in this? I love the character, but the connection is incongruous with what I’m trying to do.

Mr. Beam, Mr. Bean, Mr. Beam.

Safer to stick to what you know, I guess, and Jim Beam ain’t it.

Nasty stuff, that. I’ll never understand Americans and their obsession with bourbon. It pales in comparison to true whiskey or scotch. Playdough to cement. Koolaid to an Old Fashioned. Sure, it’ll get you drunk, but damn, don’t you want it to taste halfway decent while you do it?

Target: 800 words
Written: 632 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: 'Salem's Lot, Stephen King
Comics: I Hate Fairyland 15-18
Music: Under The Bridge, Red Hot Chili Peppers

saturday

Maybe today, we don’t have anything to do. I mean, it’s supposed to rain, so no point leaving early to go to the pool…

Or wait. Nope. Out at one. Gone. Reading time ripped away like an old, cruddy bandaid.

Save me from other people’s needs, universe. They are smothering my own.

Target: 800 words
Written: 985 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: 'Salem's Lot, Stephen King
Comics: I Hate Image 1, I Hate Fairyland 12-14
Music: Under Attack (B-Sides), Linkin Park