Category: personal

remember me?

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I’m increasingly beginning to think I’m playing lute for the damned.

The seemingly unstoppable march of fascism, climate change, gun violence, bigotry, overpopulation, war, fucking microplastics…

At this point, I’m thinking I could write humanity’s single greatest work of fiction, and it wouldn’t matter, because humanity itself will be gone before my lifetime is out.

My lifetime might be tomorrow.

Armageddon might be tomorrow.

I have works of staggering genius in me, but I fear that neither I nor anyone else will live to see them.

Nor will I ever get my head far enough out of my ass to complete them.

Is it still fatalism if it’s true?

Target: 800 words
Written: 535 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: The Adventures Of Captain Hatteras, Jules Verne (it's nice to feel cold in this heat)
Comics: The Crow: Flesh And Blood 3, The Crow: City Of Angels 1-3
Music: Overrated, Mudmen (me?)

tim armstrong is my spirit animal

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Every time I hear him, whether it’s Operation Ivy, Rancid, Transplants or his own stuff, there’s just something so smooth about it. It hits me hard in the gut, sets up shop in the chambers of my hearts.

That’s the just way things are. That’s just the way it is now.

Tall cans in the air, motherfucker.

Target: 800 words
Written: 387 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: The Adventures Of Captain Hatteras, Jules Verne
Comics: The Crow: Dead Time 2-3, The Crow: Flesh And Blood 1-2
Music: Outside, David Bowie

what’s not to love?

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It’s Deadpool & Wolverine day for me, and I am stoked.

Not only is Ryan Reynolds one of my favourite comedy actors and fellow geeks, he’s also a good Canadian boy, which I appreciate.

Weirdly, I’ve never been particularly nationalist, but I like to support the locals, especially when they’re doing cool things (sorry, Bieber, Nickelback, you ain’t my cup of tea).

Anyway, excited. The first two were great, so I can’t wait.

Also, my second writing milestone was hit this morning, so a mini cigarillo is in order, and it’s nice enough to do it, so yay!

Target: 800 words
Written: 430 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: The Adventures Of Captain Hatteras, Jules Verne
Comics: The Crow 3-5, The Crow: Dead Time 1 (can I just say that The Crow is a seminal work in Gothic horror/romance?  Every time I've read it, it hits me - fucking angst, anger and love injected straight into my veins.  Absolutely gutting.  Absolutely beautiful.)
Music: Outcesticide, Nirvana

coffee

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I think it’s time. As is par for Saturdays anymore, the cats and dog had me up earlier than intended (not the big one, the little dog – the big dog is lazy as hell and sleeps longer than any of us most mornings. She’s wonderful.)

They’re all wonderful, really, but they’re even more wonderful after coffee.

As are most people.

At my best, I mostly want to be left alone; without coffee, I’m full misanthrope.

Is misanthrope a career path? If so, I want to be on that track. Especially before my morning brew.

Aspirations are weird, aren’t they?

Target: 800 words
Written: 435 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: The Adventures Of Captain Hatteras, Jules Verne
Comics: Caliber Presents 1, The Crow 1-2, A Caliber Christmas 1
Music: Out Of Time, R.E.M. (Jesus, I forgot what an incredible album this was - one of the greatest all time. I used to play it on repeat when it first came out, back when I was first losing my religion, literally.)

sledgehammer

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I don’t know why, but every time Sledgehammer comes on, I want to get angry. It’s not that the song inspires that in me, it’s that, no matter what I do on my shuffle, it somehow manages to come up.

Like, every time.

I’m not that big of a Peter Gabriel fan; in fact, I think that’s the only song in my repertoire, and I think it came as part of a new wave playlist or something.

But the sledgehammer keeps returning, and it’s not cool, like the 80s TV show.

It’s just a bludgeon, one more little way for the universe to throw tomatoes at my face.

I am a Shakespearian actor playing poorly on an off-off-Globe stage.

And I’m not even in one of the good ones, or playing the juicy part.

I am the walk-on; the Sir Andrew Aguecheek of middle-class Canada.

Forever pursuing; forever the joke.

Target: 800 words
Written: 262 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: The Regiment, Farley Mowat
Comics: Postal: Deliverance 5-8
Music: Out Of Space, The Prodigy

dumb ass moves

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Well, we’re fucked. Biden dropped out, which means lawsuits by Republicans against whoever replaces him, endlessly lost and appealed until it gets to the incredibly corrupt Supreme Court, where they’ll rule against the Democrats and hand the election to Trump.

I know guys like Marc Elias and Seth Abramson seem to think there’s no legal basis for the challenges and it won’t be an issue, but when has that stopped them before? Hello? Immunity? Aileen Cannon throwing out the documents case?

These guys still think this system isn’t wholly corrupt, which they, of all people, being lawyers watching this shit happen in real time, they’d fucking KNOW. But, hey, as good a president as Harris would probably be, and I would love to be wrong about this, these lawsuits alone are going to fuck us all.

Big mistake, in my opinion.

Unless they’ve got a plan to remove Thomas and Scalia (and the other corrupt Supreme Court Justices like Kavanaugh and Coney Barrett), then they’ve got nothing, and they’ve just completely fucked themselves (and the rest of us) into a worldwide nightmare.

So, good one, guys. Good choices, idiots.

Target: 800 words
Written: 232 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: The Regiment, Farley Mowat
Comics: Think Tank: Animal 3, Romulus 4, Samaritan: Veritas 2, Postal 21
Music: Out In L.A., Red Hot Chili Peppers

impromptu grandkid

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So, we’ve been invited up to the see the grandbaby, which is always a riot. Unfortunately, she cracked her head on a dresser and had to get a couple of stitches, so things may be more subdued than usual.

Poor baby. She’s such a sweetheart. There’s a purity in children that’s enviable, a pure connection to joy and other big feelings, a present ability to immerse oneself completely, that contrasts so nicely with those of us who have had all the joy so scraped from us that we’re little more than hollowed-out shells.

I pray for that kind of easy innocence, that easy joy.

I will never feel it again.

Target: 800 words
Written: 303 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: The Regiment, Farley Mowat
Comics: Postal 19-20, Think Tank: Animal 2, Samaritan: Veritas 1
Music: Our Love To Admire, Interpol

exhaustion hunting

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I made a note while thinking about the next revision this morning that referred to the book (and ultimately, life) as exhaustion hunting.

It runs us ragged, from one crisis to the next, shortcircuiting our brains with constant fight-or-flight responses, until we’re too weary to fight back.

Our entire system seems designed for that. Corporatism, the constant pushing of the incomplete narrative (in itself a truth, that we are all works in progress, for entirely different reasons, none of which can be solved with externals), the fear that you aren’t enough, and you need to push harder, harder, harder…

Is there any question that our current setup is more akin to exhaustion hunting than the acts of creation and production, with corporations and billionaires as the ones feeding off our carcasses when we finally drop dead?

We are grist for the mill. Worse, we’re effluent.

This world. With climate change and/or fascism about to kill us all, I think the notion of legacy is rapidly running down the drain. What impact when the world is gone? How can a body heal itself, when it’s already got stage 4 cancer, and thinks chemo and surgery are conspiracies?

How do we survive this?

I don’t think we do.

Target: 800 words
Written: 370 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: The Elfstones Of Shannara, Terry Brooks
Comics: Romulus 3, Postal 17-18, Think Tank: Animal 1
Music: Our Lady Peace Essentials, Our Lady Peace

sublime lyrics

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I just want to write Sublime lyrics, as I listen to Saw Red while I try and figure out what I want to say today.

Unfortunately, I’ve come to the conclusion that I have nothing to say.

Sometimes, that’s enough.

Target: 700 words
Written: 339 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: The Elfstones Of Shannara, Terry Brooks
Comics: Symmetry 8, Postal 16, Eden's Fall 3, Romulus 2
Music: Otherside, Red Hot Chili Peppers

heartburn keeps me wide awake

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I mean that literally. It’s possible for someone to just die from lack of sleep, right?

Like, too many half-nights, no naps, no drowsing in the recliner while watching Frasier or the latest Yellowstone, right?

(By the way, how great is Kelly Reilly? Whatever one might think about her character’s behaviour, one must recognize what a terrific character it is, and what a great job she’s doing with it. The show can meander a little bit and doesn’t always seem to have an organic forward purpose, but capturing the endless anger of the tragically damaged, and how that can simultaneously mix with little bits of good, and absolutely vindictive evil, she does a great job.)

Anyway, dying from lack of sleep and heartburn. That’s me.

Over here.

Dying.

Target: 700 words
Written: 916 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: The Elfstones Of Shannara, Terry Brooks
Comics: Symmetry 7, Postal 15, Eden's Fall 2, Romulus 1
Music: Other Words, Screaming Trees