Category: politics

paths of glory

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I’ve taken to watching old movies (Stanley Kubrick’s early work) and (an) old TV show (The Adventures Of Superman) and I’ve stumbled upon Paths Of Glory.

I think we’re all more familiar with Kubrick’s bigger works, but Paths Of Glory is, I think, where we first saw how brilliant he could be. I mean, Fear And Desire had hints, but it was amateurish, early stuff, done on the cheap. The Killing and Killer’s Kiss were… okay. Kind of generic noir, to be honest, other than maybe the fight in the mannequins. Heist movie was not his forte; there wasn’t enough philosophy behind it. He disavowed Fear And Desire, but it was my favourite of the pre-Paths Of Glory films.

An exploration of human psychology, even done with clumsy hands, is always interesting. Some of the best movies come from B movies; for sheer entertainment or from sheer gall; the audacity of a movie about aliens or swamp creatures or men with brains on the outside of their heads to really take a swipe at the human condition.

But Paths Of Glory might be one of the best commentaries on war ever depicted in a movie; revolutionary for its time. It’s nothing short of brilliant, and not just because they’ve managed to capture the fact that Kirk and Michael Douglas are the same person.

If you get a chance, watch it; for its time, the scene where they try to take the ant hill is an pulse-pounding depiction of the futility of trench warfare; the disjointed juxtaposition of these trenchmen versus their generals, sipping cognac and throwing parties, is tremendous.

It reminds me of what I always think whenever countries want to go to war and what I would say to any leader who asked.

You first.

Target: 400 words
Written: 277 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: If Chins Could Kill, Confessions Of A B Movie Actor, Bruce Campbell (funny thing, synchronicity, and the overlap of Kubrick and the Evil Dead)
Comics: Chrononauts 1-4
Music: Kick, INXS (one of my all time favourites)

aromatherapy

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Well, we did it.

Despite the unending disembarkation syndrome (sea legs in your head), and a head-tattoo-ed right winger wearing a Grunt Style t-shirt with a smoking handgun and the word Aromatherapy on it, we made it home.

(Seriously, who wears a shirt like that on a plane? Or anywhere for that matter. Thanks you making us all wonder the whole trip if you were going to shoot up the joint. I noticed you had a “first trip to Disney” button attached to your backpack. What did you wear to the Magic Kingdom? A tank top that read Child Molester? Seriously though, I thought you neo-Nazi gun nuts hated the mouse right now?)

We are home, and our dogs and cats are ecstatic. I am ecstatic. Too many crowds. Too much togetherness.

I’m ready for a real vacation.

Target: 400 words
Written: 323 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: The Fire Starter Sessions, Danielle Laporte
Comics: Nailbiter 28-30, Nailbiter Returns 1
Music: Keepin' The Summer Alive, The Beach Boys (hey, we're back now, seemed apropos)

drinks with rednecks

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I think it’s good to share a drink with the enemy sometimes.

See, the thing is that in the media, and particularly in social media, it becomes very, very easy to paint everyone with a particular brush. If you believe the right wingers on social media, all lefties are part of a millions-strong conspiracy to use fake science to push an agenda of… ending pandemics and climate change (it is unclear how we profit from these deceits), while using immigrants as fake voters to protect our ability to do so. Of course, if you listen to most right wing bloggers (and their bots/commenters), lefties are all pedophiles, and somehow, vaccinations and green energy helps with that? I’ve never understood the logic of what they think our motivations are. I’ll guarantee it’s not pedophilia, and there are an awful lot more headlines of right wingers getting busted for that stuff than there are drag queens and other lefty icons (Bill Clinton aside – sorry, Bill, but that’s fucked up and you should go down for it).

On the left, however, we tend to think of right wingers as hateful, uneducated, mindless boors, Nazis slavering over their chance to cleanse the population of all but straight, white males and their subservient women, but the truth is more complicated than that. If all you ever read is left-wing bloggers and newspapers, I’ve got news for you. You’re only seeing the worst of the worst there. If you’ve ever actually spent time with a southerner, for example, you’d know that despite their political views, most of them are pretty genial. They don’t spit racial slurs in the faces of minorities (although they will probably say it behind their back, in couched terms), and the majority of them, split off from the rhetoric, are actually quite nice. Even kind of fun. There’s a good natured, joshing camaraderie that’s a breath of fresh air when compared to the pearl clutching culture of non-offense and victim identity often experienced in my usual left wing circles. Despite the fact that I completely disagree with Trumpism and the politics of bigotry, I do agree with one thing: we’re too fucking precious here on the left.

Being offended is good, if it’s something really, truly to be offended by. But tiptoeing around everyone because we’re afraid of the constant threat of labelling and outrage, of possible cancellation, for even a perceived (not actual) slip? It’s a poor way to live, if only for our own mental health.

I miss the Nineties, when we young, grungy punks opted out, opposing bigotry and authoritarianism while declaring no topics off-limits, no subject too dirty. We all got to be fucked up in our own ways, but if we were being whiny little bitches about it, we got called out. If we weren’t, we got hugs and sympathy.

It’s good to eat shit every once in a while. It’s good to poke a hole in the old ego, the identity, especially if it’s one that disempowers us and makes life miserable for those around us.

Fucking have a drink. Have a laugh. Get off the high horse, and don’t engage the bullshit. Find common ground. Forget the stereotypes and take them as they are – imperfect representations of things that may or may not resemble them.

Because that’s the problem with stereotypes: at some point, you have to deal with the actuality of the person or people you’re trying to stereotype. If you can drop the stereotype and find that common ground, all the bullshit goes away, and you can have a pretty decent time. You may not agree on everything; you may vehemently disagree on some things, but if you set the preconceived notions aside…

Well, shit. It’s almost like we’re all human.

Target: 400 words
Written: 227 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: Aesop's Fables
Comics: Nailbiter 24-27
Music: Katy Perry Essentials, Katy Perry (don't judge me, I love the tongue-in-cheek aspect.  I appreciate someone who doesn't take herself too seriously.)

nassau

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Bit of a whirlwind trip through Nassau today, but man, beautiful place. Beautiful port – if only they could spread that money out to the rest of the populace. Parts are gentrified, for sure, but the rest is crumbling, like many other Caribbean islands.

I do sometimes wonder if there isn’t a better option than capitalism. Communism, by its own violent history, has shown that it doesn’t really work – any system where there’s concentration of power in the hands of people who benefit from it is guaranteed to corrupt, no matter its other freedoms. Those who crave power will always find a pretext to keep it, even at the cost of other people’s lives and freedom.

I often wonder why the people do not speak with one voice and say, “Enough!”

But then, you meet real people, realize how they’ve been manipulated and deprived of resources, including education and the ability to think bigger and rationally, and you realize… they’ve no focus for their anger, which makes them easier for despots to control.

They are aimed like a weapon, or neutered like a pet.

Target: 400 words
Written: 282 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: The Power Of Now, Eckhart Tolle
Comics: Nailbiter 9-11, Nailbiter-Hack/Slash 1
Music: Just Can't Get Enough New Wave, Various (my jams)

that’s a lot of rain

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Nothing like going on vacation and having it rain inches for twenty-four hours straight.

We did get to the space museum, which was kind of neat, although I’m still conflicted about SpaceX and its association with Musk.

Also, they removed all references to the Challenger and Columbia. Why?

Because it was bumming people out.

Personally, I don’t think ignoring or erasing history is the way to go, and that honouring these brave sacrifices would be a better option, but the U.S. is getting more and more Orwellian every day.

Seriously. It’s like you can feel the people around you getting stupider.

Target: 400 words
Written: 1033 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: Unlimited Power, Tony Robbins (I have lots to say about this, but I also have a whole book planned around the idea, so you know... no spoilers)
Comics: Nailbiter 1-4
Music: Just, Radiohead (may be one of my all-time favourite songs, if only for the moral of total and complete freedom and responsibility)

cape canaveral

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A short haul with Delta, a bad book to read, and a cold, chilly day capped by a pretty good dinner at a surprisingly empty restaurant along the port.

Sadly, there will be no launches this week. That’s always cool, even if it touches on my irritation with Elon Musk and how it conflicts with my admiration of space travel in general, and how cool reusable rockets are.

I am assuming at this point they succeed in spite of him, and certainly not because of it.

Target: 400 words
Written: 408 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: Unlimited Power, Tony Robbins
Comics: Hunter Killer 12, Fusion 1-3 (ugh, what a shitpile mess that was)
Music: Juicebox, The Strokes

florida bound

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Let’s start with a vacation. Standard issue, as they say.

Florida. Not Disney World this time, although we are flying into Orlando. No, we’ll go to Cocoa Beach and Cape Canaveral, then hope on a big ol’ boat and head off to Nassau.

Lunching with the Kennedys, probably, right?

Sadly, no. We do okay, and we can travel a couple of times a year, but that’s about it.

Most of it is local; we do try somewhere tropical at least once a year.

But… and this is a big one. We aren’t getting paid any more. The price of everything is going up.

Suddenly, it’s not cheap to fly to Jamaica or Cuba. It’s not cheap to drive the I-75.

I get that it’s all greed and short term thinking these days, but how can anyone, anywhere, in politics or business, think this is sustainable? Are they just trying to squeeze us dry and then walk away laughing as everything burns?

I mean, the stupidity and disdain for fellow humanity in such a mindset is appalling.

These are the true criminals; the ones who ought to be ousted from society.

Target: 400 words
Written: 2344 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: 100 Selected Poems, e.e. cummings
Comics: Hunter Killer 8-11 (good concept, in desperate need of a longer development period and a competent editor.  Wasn't Mark Waid an editor?  He should know how to keep things straight.)
Music: Judgment Night, Cypress Hill et al

spent

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It’s 7:34AM and I feel like I’m already spent.

Granted, my day starts typically at 4:50AM, so I’ve been up almost three hours.

I’ve written a bit, did some yoga and some meditation, thought about the state of world, wondered why the hell so many of these insane right wingers continue to get away with shit that is clearly illegal and no one appears to be even considering charges, wondered if I’m capable of writing humanity changing works, but it won’t matter because climate change and divisive, authoritarian politics will kill us all before it can make an impact, wondered if aliens would find these pages years later and not be able to understand a damn word, showered, maybe thought about sex a little (because I do so roughly every three minutes) and then peed, ate breakfast, made coffee, fed the dogs, let the dogs out, gave the dogs their joint medication, fed the cats, unloaded/loaded the dishwasher, played Wordle and Worldle, a game of Go on a 9×9 board with a 8 stone handicap (because I need it, apparently), then sat down and went over my to-do list, what’s left of it.

And I’ve a whole workday ahead of me.

Shit.

Target: 300 words
Written: 227 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: Sex Rx, Lauren Streicher
Comics: Sex Criminals 17-20
Music: Jimmy Buffett Essentials, Jimmy Buffett (fuck you, Jimmy rocks)

in training

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Back into it. I guess I must be doing okay at work, since they’re offering me extra work most people don’t get (or want, perhaps).

It’s not the greatest job, but as I learn more about who does what in the government and our division, I’m beginning to see that there may be other options.

I mean, as long as this writing thing isn’t paying the bills, which it’s not.

I’ve made exactly zero dollars thus far.

Of course, I don’t expect to make anything off poetry and short stories. Maybe comics. Maybe the hip little ditties if I compile them into a larger volume.

A book of short stories or poetry might work, but I’m a long way from that, and let’s face it – it’s not going to land me on the moon.

That’s the novel prerogative, and even then, it’s dicey. You gotta be good to be great and great to make any cash, which is bullshit.

We massively undervalue art in this world, always have. The absolute cream can make a living; the rest of us are scraping by.

And I don’t believe in the starving artist. I do believe that too much wealth corrupts.

But making a living?

That shouldn’t be something we have to fight for.

Target: 300 words
Written: 176 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: Face It, Debbie Harry
Comics: Sex Criminals 5-8
Music: Jeremy - EP, Pearl Jam (have we deciphered the actual words to Yellow Ledbetter yet?)

so begins canon

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I’ve been poking at it for a while. Haikus and flash fiction are all good, and comic book scripts and thinly veiled political rants are something else, but proof of life, proof of concept, of talent, skill, hard work, dedication, adaptability, open-mindedness, and good old fashioned sex appeal lay in the pudding.

(Or Jello wrestling mud pit, if we’re talking that last thing).

The point is, there’s no me, as I want me to be, without books. Reading is only halfway to completion. It’s the act of creation (which is really just exploration and discovery, connection and understanding), that’s the thing that fills the cup.

(Or Jello mud wrestling pit).

The bottom line is, me as I am now? I’m not happy with that person. That person sucks. That person writes split-sentence haikus and pretentious shit about hats.

(I love them both dearly).

This person that I want to be? He gets dark. He gets into it. He understands subtext and trauma and helplessness in the face of adversity.

He knows how to crush you – your soul anyway.

(He’d likely lose in the Jello pit).

I want to make you uncomfortable; to remember that happy endings are not the only endings, and neither are grand tragedies.

Sometimes, it’s the little tragedies that wreck us whole.

Target: 300 words
Written: 794 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: Getting Things Done, David Allen
Comics: Southern Bastards 9-12
Music: You Only Live Once, The Strokes (The Strokes with Eddie Vedder doing Marvin Gaye?  Fuck me sideways, does it get better than that?)