Category: relationships

cancelled

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For the record, I don’t want anyone cancelled, not really.

I believe in accountability, in taking responsibility for our actions, but the idea of wholesale cancellation, of ruining people’s lives for a misstep, a poor turn of phrase, heck, even sometimes, just the perception of a poor turn of phrase…

It turns my stomach.

There are people who ought to be cancelled. Weinstein, obviously. Every motherfucker at Cornell involved in that Jane Doe shit.

Donald Trump, Pete Hegseth, Kristi Noem, Vivek Ramaswamy, etc., etc., Republicans, etc.

These people have committed actual crimes, and show zero remorse for their godawful behaviour.

But in most cases, reaching out, education, is better than condemnation. Condemnation tends to make people defensive and push people into doubling down. It’s a tool to radicalize, mostly unintentionally, against the very people that condemned them in the first place.

It’s a bit like the way the Conservative Party in Canada deals with health care and education. The system’s not perfect, obviously, nothing is. But instead of looking at the problems and working with the healthcare industry or teachers to find solutions and common ground, they just break everything, and then go, see, it’s broken, damn those nurses and doctors and teachers, none of whom set the policies that created the break.

No one, and that means absolutely no one, ever, in history, is perfect.

Utopias are stupid and unreasonable.

Aim for improvement, not perfection. Aim for understanding, not condemnation. There is no joy in Whoville if they burn the Grinch at the stake.

His heart will not grow three sizes if it’s on fire.

Anyway, save the condemnation for the truly evil and the truly remorseless; their ouster from our society is key to our survival as a species. For everyone else…

Education and evolution. Understanding. Patience. Perspective.

Otherwise, all you’ve done is reveal your own myopia. Your own desire for the dehumanization of your perceived enemies.

And who really wants that? Is that going to solve our problems?

Or sow greater division?

Remember: kindness and empathy, understanding and compassion, are not some lefty plot or bleeding heart nonsense. They are not irrational.

They are the heart of logic. After all, what could be more logical that working together, helping each other, and taking the time to create greater understanding?

How could that possibly make the world a worse place?

Logically, it could only be better.

Target: 1700 words
Written: 1450 words, novel: Father Lightning

Read: An Astronaut's Guide To Life On Earth, Chris Hadfield
Comics: The Walking Dead 45-48
Music: Hell's Ditch, The Pogues

neurodivergent

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I think I’ve been pretty clear here that I’m not entirely normal. I’ve dealt with melancholy, with frustration, with anger issues and isolation.

I don’t think like other people.

My mind immediately rejects any presentation of any perspective with questions about other possible perspectives.

I’m a little bit OCD. A little bit ADD.

(a little bit of Erica by my side.)

Probably bipolar, but you know what? Fuck you.

I don’t have a single actual diagnosis. I don’t need one.

For my entire life, I’ve looked at labels with suspicions. It is very easy to reduce people to less than, to caricatures, based on a label.

Oh, she’s ADHD. He’s gay. Norm’s a Republican. Tara’s a leftie.

Depression, social anxiety, autistic, black, trans, women, disabled, these are all unfortunately convenient shorthands used to make all kinds of assumptions about people that only serve to reinforce stereotypes and tribalism, instead of opening up space to actually learn about who people actually are.

It’s too easy.

And it’s bullshit.

I refuse to get a diagnosis, because I do not want that diagnosis to define who I am. Indeed, today, I listened to two people openly mock the neurodivergent, despite the fact that at least one of them was fully aware that there was one in the room, reducing them to oddballs and weirdos. They rolled their eyes at the idea that we might take the time to recognize them, or accommodate them in any way.

It pissed me off, mightily, and my boss did nothing to push back.

That’s why I don’t get tested. Not because I don’t want to fix the problem, but the second that label is attached, you are now less than, a joke, no longer an actual person, but a diagnosis.

You are not Empty; you are (insert diagnosis).

The farther away we can move from boxing people in with labels (a favourite pasttime, it seems, of the millennial and Gen Z crowd, although Boomers are great at labels as well, though theirs tend to be a little cruder, and more bigoted), the better.

Remember how you chastise and cancel people for every little thing; when you’re no longer the youth in charge, you too, will be labelled horrible, and probably for this. Your children will reject you, and the stigma of your endless labels.

The reduction of the human is tragic; the pasting of a prefab schematic onto anyone’s life (and I’ll include our pets in this), is a fucking monstrosity.

There. Go cancel yourselves now.

You deserve it.

Target: 1700 words
Written: 1479 words, novel: Father Lightning

Read: An Astronaut's Guide To Life On Earth, Chris Hadfield
Comics: The Walking Dead 41-44
Music: Hefty Fine, Bloodhound Gang

why am i always apologizing?

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I know I’m Canadian but it’s a bit ridiculous, even for us.

I was thinking about my grandmother today, my dad’s mom, and all I could think was that I wish I’d been a better grandson, that I’d spent more time with them, that I’d been just… better.

I do this all the time.

I feel like a failure – as a father and a son, a husband and a writer, a person, a political entity, a human being.

I’m sorry for that, and I don’t know how to move beyond it.

I feel responsible for everything, and powerless over all.

Target: 1700 words
Written: 2524 words, novel: Father Lightning

Read: The Girl Who Played With Fire, Stieg Larsson (I understand the ending, but something about it seems unfinished, doesn't it?)
Comics: The Walking Dead 25-28
Music: Heaven :x: Hell, Sum 41 (better than you'd think, bit of a throwback)

your father’s life is worth $154.08 a month

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There’s a part of me that wants to write a whole poem about this, but Jesus, it kind of writes itself, doesn’t it?

It’s like the six word poem, baby shoes for sale, never worn, which says so much.

A hundred and fifty-four dollars and eight cents a month.

That’s what you’re worth, orphan.

Target: 1700 words
Written: 3074 words, novel: Father Lightning

Read: The Girl Who Played With Fire, Stieg Larsson
Comics: The Walking Dead 21-24 (I forgot how great this series was before the show got super repetitive and blew it.  Part of the reason I never finished it, and why I'm going back to do so now.)
Music: Heathen, David Bowie

hutch

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We were supposed to get another dog today, a rescue from Louisiana.

They called him Hiccup. We were going to call him Hutch.

Unfortunately, he was pulled from the transport because of a cough, which for a pup getting over heartworms (at the end of his three months’ rest), and now, it could be months, and possibly never, for us to give him a better life.

This is probably controversial to say, and people who don’t understand what animals bring to a relationship will probably crucify me for this, but my wife agrees, it’s like we’ve lost a child.

Intellectually, we know he’s probably still coming. He’s probably going to be fine and we’re going to love him and squeeze him and call him Hutch.

But in the moment…

I’m sorry if that’s offensive to you; it’s how we feel, and we’re not inexperienced in that area.

It’s silly, probably, but it still sucks.

Get better, Hutch. We’ll come get you if we have to (and that’s saying a lot, because we refuse to cross the border, until America smartens the fuck up.)

Target: 1700 words
Written: 1299 words, novel: Father Lightning

Read: Proof Of Conspiracy, Seth Abramson (recommended reading - puts all this Iran shit in a very different light.  This was not a Donald Trump, spur-of-the-moment, I need an Epstein distraction thing.  This has been on the books since his first term, courtesy of Putin, MBS, MBZ and motherfucking Netanyahu.)
Comics: Marvel Knights 4-7 (this is such a sad era for Marvel - and why does every writer that takes on Cloak & Dagger immediately want to either make them hate each other or swap their powers?  Why not lean into what made them so compelling in the first place?  Their co-dependence, mirroring their creation - their addiction to one another.)
Music: Haunted Cities, Transplants (so great)

must be nice to be pretty

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I’m not pretty; I’m not a looker.

I’m overweight, and unkempt, and my fashion sense is non-existent, because I think fashion is mostly ridiculous window dressing, unnecessary for anyone of substance.

Why waste time on clothes if you’re not a model or going to a wedding or something?

Of course, it’s a biological thing partially, to attract potential mates, and an ego thing partially to make one feel better about at least one’s outer appearance.

Me, I’m a comfy clothes kind of guy; I can’t be bothered to tuck in.

Ever. Not since I was a child, when I would be forced to do so, and would untuck immediately, as quickly as possible.

Anyway, not pretty.

Would be nice to be.

Maybe people would treat me better.

I hear that happens for the good looking. And they get paid more.

How fair is that?

Nice jawline, bro, have an extra ten grand a year. Great butt, here’s twenty. Nice smile, bright eyes, high cheekbones?

Thirty, forty, fifty.

Great tits, six pack abs?

A hundred!

Life is real shitty for the uggos.

Target: 1700 words
Written: 1522 words, novel: Father Lightning

Read: Proof Of Conspiracy, Seth Abramson
Comics: The Mutant Misadventures Of Cloak And Dagger 4-7
Music: A Hard Day's Night, The Beatles (fucking masters)

epilogged

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Epilogued? What’s the best way to say that?

The return of complexity; we are preaching kindness as logic, and logic as kindness, but there are those still too lost to see past their own suffering.

Where does kindness stop? Is someone’s refusal to accept someone else’s kindness the line to draw? Or do we just hold back a moment to let them catch their breath and think it through?

Can cruelty be kindness? (Not actual cruelty, but hard truths, spoken softly, things people don’t want to hear, but needed to.)

Where do we draw the line? Where does compassion end?

For example, Donald Trump. In an absolute application of kindness, we’d show it to him as well, even though, at this point, it’s pretty clear he’s unredeemable. At this point, he just needs to be removed from office, and exorcised from society. Locked up, whatever. Out of power, along with all the other Republicans.

There’s still kindness in that, however. Maybe not for the Republicans, although we’re technically saving them from themselves.

But the greater kindness, to the rest of the world, the people being affected by their monstrosity.

The needs of the many, and all that.

Thanks, Spock, you’ve helped me prove my point – kindness is logic, logic, kindness.

We miss you, Mr. Nimoy, but thanks for what you left behind.

Target: 1700 words
Written: 1463 words, novel: Father Lightning

Read: Jagannath, Karen Tidbeck (minus the body horror short stories, I rather enjoyed this.  Very accessible.  Nice.)
Comics: Invincible Universe: Battle Beast 12, Capes 10
Music: Ham Fisted, Local H (do these guys even have a bad album?  Same schtick, but it remains great.  Maybe their debut was a little weak.)

sleepover

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Well, that was cool. A little awkward, but it’s nice that she loves us that much. Our granddaughter decided she wanted to sleepover between us in the tiny bed we have at my stepson’s.

Not having had small children, I’ve never had that. I understand it’s mildly fraught, and also a pain in the ass for many parents, but it actually worked out. We all slept well, there wasn’t any snoring or kicking or anything that kept anyone up.

It was just peaceful.

I know, weird, whatever, and some of you will jump to the worst conclusions, thereby ruining what was actually a pretty goddamn wholesome moment.

Sometimes, people, things are just nice.

Get over it.

Target: 1700 words
Written: 2068 words, novel: Father Lightning

Read: Anyone, Charles Soule
Comics: Invincible 117-119, Tech Jacket v2 9
Music: H.A.A.R.P. Live From Wembley, Muse

apple pickin’

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What a wholesome fuckin’ day.

Brunch and skipping stones on the beach, racing leaves through the rapids of a small stream, then picking ginger golds ripe from the tree.

Doesn’t get much better than that, kid.

Target: 1700 words
Written: 908 words, novel: Father Lightning

Read: Anyone, Charles Soule
Comics: Tech Jacket v2 6-8, Invincible 116
Music: Futures, Jimmy Eat World