Housework, father-in-law’s birthday, a long time in the sun.
Yeah. Fun day, but still. Too much.
Too much sun.
Target: 1300 words
Written: 225 words, novel: Bad Neighbours
Read: Solar Lottery, Philip K. Dick
Comics: Tomb Raider Journeys 7-8, Tomb Raider 25, Tomb Raider: Scarface's Treasure 1
Music: Weight, Rollins BandI’ve noticed a weird trend among my extended family over the years.
For whatever reason, they edit us out of their public lives. I’m not really sure why; it’s not like we’re over here spouting off Trumpisms or committing acts of wanton criminality.
Still, somehow, we never seem to make it into the pictures. If you searched online and tried to find me or my stepdaughter in any picture with my granddaughter (that we didn’t post ourselves), you’d never know we’d even met. Similarly, though pictures of my nieces are routinely posted with friends and other family members and friends of the family, we, despite having spent far more time and energy on the girls, are noticeably absent. These pictures are often accompanied by comments about how great that person is for the kids.
The suggestion, by way of omission, is that we are not good for the kids.
Indeed, at both nieces’ graduations, in which we were present, we weren’t mentioned at all. Well, technically, the second one, no one got thanked at all, it was more about musing on being empty nesters, but in the first one, well, every rando from birth to that day got mentioned, no matter how little time they spent with or on the girls, except us, who were with them more than anyone, except their own parents.
My youngest niece and my wife have a ridiculously close relationship and yet, for some reason, even she can’t make the cut.
It’s a gripe I’ve had for a while, but I just can’t figure it out. It’s not like we’re embarrassing white trash, out here spouting QAnon and JK Rowling.
I’m pro-equality, anti-racist, anti-bigotry of all kinds, anti-fascism, pro-free health care, pro-basic income and taxing the rich (in fact, let’s just do away with billionaires altogether), and I believe all people should be evaluated based on the things they actually do, not whatever random defining fact, like who they’re into or skin colour, happens to be one part of their make-up. Assuming that’s all there is to a person (even if that person is yourself) is such an injustice to people as they are.
We’re all so much more. We contain multitudes, and the only thing we should really judge by is action.
Anyways, not complaining, I get it. People curate their social media and they don’t want people they consider “lesser than” ruining their carefully crafted social images. I personally want my reputation to be based on what I do, not the fucking fluff people put on Instagram.
We all know that shit’s B.S. anyway. Your performative liberalism is better than being a Trumper, for sure, but it’s also shittier than being, you know, a good fucking person.
Disingenuous is better than evil; that doesn’t mean it’s good. Same with hypocrisy. If your hypocrisy is getting people killed, obviously, that’s worse, but if it’s just stalling real progress because the only thing it does is serve your reputation by being part of the collective (and socially and mentally toxic) online outrage?
Well, shit, dude. That sucks too, just not as bad.
It doesn’t help anyone.
And shouldn’t we aim to be better than, you know, not as bad as the other guy?
I mean, I know that’s what I’m aiming for, even if I fall short quite a bit. Being a good person, a happy person (something I’ve not entirely given up on, despite the last forty-eight years of evidence), that’s all I’ve ever wanted. To write me off as an alcoholic redneck and ignore every other aspect of me and the rest of my family (and I suspect a great deal of this is rooted in ableism, even if it’s unconscious), well, then, fuck.
That’s pretty shitty, and it doesn’t feel good.
Maybe we strive for better, yeah?
Target: 1300 words
Written: 1203 words, novel: Bad Neighbours
Read: World Of Ptavvs, Larry Niven
Comics: Tomb Raider: The Greatest Treasure Of All 0, Tomb Raider 19-20, Tomb Raider Journeys 2
Music: Weezer (Teal Album), WeezerIs it just me, or is this year moving like a freight train whose throttle is wide open and stuck down?
Barreling toward an inevitable conclusion that can only be catastrophe?
I’ll admit, Bad Neighbours, being largely about conflict and unreality, about dichotomy and the endless fight of us versus them, it’s done a number on me.
I know, as a writer, you have to live in the space about which you’re writing. When I did Romance #1, it was fun and goofy, ironic and sardonic. Western Cradle was about trying to make shit out of suffering. The Mungk was months of exploration into trauma and hopelessness.
The fatalism nearly got me.
But I’m largely conflict-averse in my life, so this obsessing over the fight, being at war, at odds with each other, especially in light of the world’s political situation, it’s anathema. And it’s bleeding into the rest of my life.
I’ll be glad when this is done, for more reasons than just completion and the pride of having finished it.
Target: 1300 words
Written: 1794 words, novel: Bad Neighbours
Read: East Wind: West Wind, Pearl Buck
Comics: The Seasons 6-7, Escape 1
Music: We Rebuilt This City, Closet MonsterI mean, I had fun, but I wanted it to be so much better. The others were going on about how great the guy was, but I found the band super loose, and the singer was mucking up lyrics (and moving around entire verses) wholesale.
I’m not sure the hangover is worth that.
Sorry, dude, Gord Downie, you ain’t.
Target: 1300 words
Written: 1127 words, novel: Bad Neighbours
Read: Magician: Apprentice, Raymond Feist
Comics: Napalm Lullaby 5-6, The Sacrificers 10, Grommets 3
Music: Wayne's World Soundtrack, Various ArtistsI’m a contrarian. I don’t do it on purpose. There’s just something in my brain that hears an opinion or a thing accepted as fact and can’t help but play devil’s advocate and ask: what if it wasn’t?
It’s an absurd desire to see the other, that I can’t quite avoid. I used to call it opening worlds, and that’s a good an explanation as any, but it comes down to this. Whatever the view is, I want to see the other one.
Or another one. There’s rarely just two. It means constant growth, and it avoids dogma, but it does tend to put one on the outs with everyone else.
Always asking the question: what are the other ways to look at this? What if it’s not?
What if there’s another way?
What if there’s a hundred?
What about a thousand?
What if it’s infinite?
It’s taken me a long time to get used to the idea that this will never end, that there can be no end to perspective and questions.
And if puts me at odds with humanity, well, so fucking be it.
Target: 1300 words
Written: 1026 words, novel: Bad Neighbours
Read: Hammered, Elizabeth Bear (finally, enjoyed it, but too much interference)
Comics: The Sacrificers 6, The Holy Roller 2-4
Music: Wasting Light, Foo FightersBeing up north, as frustrating as it can be at times (family, am I right?), always leaves me introspective, and as we wound back down highway 11 toward home, I could help but think:
Has chastising someone for saying something politically incorrect ever actually worked?
My mom said Indian; my sister-in-law barked INDIGENOUS at her, with vitriol, like my mother was some raging bigot who wasn’t just stuck in the habit of saying Indian for over seventy years.
I see this all the time online and every time, I think, and you wonder why people radicalize away from you?
One could say, “I think they go by indigenous now,” in a nice, non-condescending tone, thereby sparking a conversation and education that ends amicably with at least one party elevated with an updated viewpoint, to hopefully, do better the next time around. If that party still resists at that point, and won’t listen to an updated viewpoint, well, then, yeah, okay. Maybe you got a bigot.
But most people aren’t that bad, and by escalating so quickly, and implying that they are horrible people right off the hop, well, you’re invalidating everything they are in favour of a label of bigot, fascist, whatever other horrible thing you’d like to use, over something that more often than not, is more micro than macro-aggression.
Think of it like this: you probably don’t think you’re a bad person. You likely don’t think you’re perfect, you might even think of yourself as being flawed or broken or screwed-up, but you probably don’t think you’re evil. You might think you make everyone’s lives worse, but that’s because you’re a fuck-up who can’t get their shit together, and not because you’re, you know, Hitler.
But let’s say one day that you use the word (and let’s keep it kind of ridiculous here) “ginger”.
And maybe a family member immediately turns to you and escalates, labelling you an absolute bigot, and telling that they go by “rouged” now, and that using ginger makes you a horrible racist and probably supportive of all the anti-trans, homophobic, sexist nonsense out there, and a Republican while you’re at it.
Now, you, even thinking you’re kind of a loser, probably don’t think that of yourself. And so, how do you respond?
Like pretty well everyone does when they feel they’ve been unjustly accused – defensively.
You get your back up. You get defensive because this person is trying to invalidate all the good parts of you, that no matter how screwed up you are, at your core, you know you’re not that, not EVIL, and reduce you down to this one thing – rougephobic.
And with that, all the other nonsense that gets conflated with one level of bigotry. If you’re transphobic, you must be anti-gay as well. You must hate lesbians and black people and Latinos and women. If you’re a women, you must be a TERF and probably pro-life as well.
Of course, you know you’re not that, so even if you don’t say it out loud, you push back. You internalize your indignation and all of a sudden, all these disingenuous assholes talking about the elitist left looking down their nose at you, start making a bit more sense. And you’re sucked in, a little more each time it happens, until you’re a full blown Trumper (I mean, hopefully not that far, but imagine this isn’t just one person doing this to you – it’s a million people, a literal million, in some cases, online, constantly, without cease. How far down the rabbit hole might you go in your anger at being unjustly labelled Evil).
And all this is knowing that if they’d just said, “I think they go by rouged now” in an informative and non-judgmental way, sparking a brief, but important conversation, you might have avoided any of that, avoided the defensive trigger response and even possibly, gained an ally.
Education, not condemnation. These are the keys to winning back those on the edge, those that just maybe need a little bit of knowledge, rather than vilification.
These are the things I think about as I drive.
And they’re the things that are killing the left – why we get smaller every day, while the lunatics swell in size.
Target: 1300 words
Written: 1256 words, novel: Bad Neighbours
Read: Hammered, Elizabeth Bear
Comics: A Righteous Thirst For Vengeance 10, Deadly Class 54-55, The Scumbag 14
Music: The Warrior's Code, Dropkick MurphysNothing. I’ll write up a whole thing tomorrow about our baby girl and how much she meant to us, but I’m dehydrated from tears and the sweat of digging a grave in thirty-degree-celsius heat (not to mention lack of sleep), and I’ve got a pounding headache.
Suffice it to say, we’ve lost something beautiful today, and my heart hangs in tattered shreds.
People say they’re just animals, but fuck them. Anyone who doesn’t understand the love between a person and their pet is emotionally stunted.
You might as well take your heart and throw it in a river, for all the good it’s doing, you soulless jerk.
Sorry, I’ve never gotten over the comment about our first loss: “It’s just a cat.”
Fuck you, bitch. Fuck you.
Target: 1300 words
Written: 1048 words, novel: Bad Neighbours
Read: Rocket Ship Galileo, Robert Heinlein
Comics: Death Or Glory 11, Low 23-25
Music: Warp Bootleg, CKYI once saw a chart that showed someone who worked super hard but made no connections versus someone who didn’t work, but made nothing but connections, and basically, it stuck them in two categories.
All work and no connection creates self-imposed martyrdom, while all connection and no work creates charlatans. Bullshitters versus drudge horses, with those that can find the balance (working hard and creating worthwhile things versus connecting with fans, with industry leaders and insiders, in a genuine, non-bullshit manner) as the true exceptions, the step above the rest. A martyr can find its work recognized and suddenly reach popularity, only to flame out over time (but still leaving behind good work).
A charlatan can become popular for nothing, and lose everything and be leave nothing behind.
I’m a martyr right now, that’s for sure.
May I never be a charlatan.
May I someday find the balance.
Target: 1300 words
Written: 1114 words, novel: Bad Neighbours
Read: Odds On, John Lange (Michael Crichton)
Comics: Deadly Class 37-38, Black Science 39, Low 21
Music: War, U2Even if they’re not mine, it’s nice. You’ve been through enough together that it can be a nice, genuine evening.
Or fraught, if the relationship was a perilous one.
My wife has seen both ends of that spectrum this week, and honestly, it’s so refreshing to be around people without all the weird family politics or selfish interests.
You’re just catching up.
It’s nice.
People should be nicer to each other.
Less fighting. Less either/or.
More us and.
Target: 1300 words
Written: 1389 words, novel: Bad Neighbours
Read: The Grass Is Singing, Doris Lessing
Comics: Black Science 31-33, Deadly Class 31
Music: Waiting For Herb, The PoguesI realize that may have been too much to share yesterday about my wife.
The thing is, I’ve punched way above my weight in that category, so I’m quite proud of our relationship.
She’s capable and smart, she’s got a great heart and a good sense of humour.
And yeah, pretty darn hot.
So, I lucked out.
I’m not going to take it for granted or play it down. I’ve done pretty well for myself in that category; much better than those whose relationships (and I know so many of them) revolve around the stale notion of guys vs. girls, “Take my wife. Please.”
Honestly, if that’s your idea of a great relationship, well, shit, people.
You have got a bad relationship, and you’ve somehow convinced yourself otherwise.
Target: 1200 words
Written: 1184 words, novel: Bad Neighbours
Read: Dragonflight, Anne McCaffrey
Comics: Low 11-12, Deadly Class 19, Black Science 21
Music: Exile On Main Street, The Rolling Stones