Category: relationships

birthdates

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My niece turns seventeen today, which is insane to me, but that’s time, I guess. Time is weird.

The bond she’s formed with my wife pleases me to no end. You’d swear they were actual daughter and mother, except there’s no fighting, only a intense shared love of crafts, esthetics, music, etc.

She and I bond over music as well, but she’s more of a Swiftie/Rodrigo/Roan girl and if you’ve paid attention to my musical choices, I am… not.

(That said, I actually don’t mind many of the new female pop stars; there’s way more depth there than there used to be, and they’re leaps and bounds ahead of their male compatriots. That said, I’m more impressed with T-Swift as a machine of longevity and Beatle-like clout, and I’m not really into Chappell Roan’s Amanda-Palmer-In-Pop-Star-Drag thing. If I want Amanda Palmer, I’ll listen to Amanda Palmer. Plus, that country song? I realize she’s the hot thing right now, so the critics all fellated the shit out of the song, but I strongly suspect that once they realize no one’s into it, they’ll crucify the poor girl for such a clearly misguided misstep that destroyed any authenticity she had in her brand.)

Anyway, happy birthday, kid. We love you.

Target: 1000 words
Written: 1535 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: Words For Pictures, Brian Michael Bendis
Comics: The Boys 25-28
Music: New York State Of Mind, Beastie Boys

still processing

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I’ve mostly felt ill and drunk, like I’m outside reality.

All kinds of thoughts have screamed through my head, up to and including saying fuck it and snuffing it.

Who wants to live through that shit?

And I’d rather die than become one of them.

I won’t though, because that doesn’t let me protect my family and whoever else I can, even though that may not be something I’m able to do.

Focus on survival; focus on forward.

Focus on transcending.

Even if that means this life.

Target: 900 words
Written: 651 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: The Shining, Stephen King
Comics: 100 Bullets 81-84
Music: New Adventures In HI-FI, R.E.M.

old friends, new friends

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Not my old friends, but my wife’s childhood best friend.

It’s nice to see them pick up where they left off and it’s nice to really get to spend time with the woman my wife always talks about, and her husband, who seems nice as well, and has quite the tragic backstory.

Of course, my wife presented me as the rich kid, which you know, I’m not. I’ve lived more in poverty than not and my parents didn’t really start making a lot of money until I was well into my teens.

I spent much of my childhood in awe of my cousin, who had the complete Star Wars figurine collection, including the Darth Vader head carrying case, while I had a basic Princess Leah and Luke, plus Chewy, which was cool. (And, they had cable. We didn’t have cable. We had antenna.)

I didn’t even have Han. No Landspeeder or X-Wing.

We were poor, kids.

(Kidding, of course – we were comfortably lower-middle to middle and then upper-middle, so my childhood was mostly a matter of restraint – two working parents, comfortable, without excess.)

Anyway, I went to a dirt school, and most of the people I knew and hung out with didn’t come from money, and the ones that did were like our family, stable income, some extra, nothing dramatic.

Normal kids.

So, when people say that I’m a rich kid, it bugs me, because they see how well my parents have done for themselves, but they see it from the later point of view, where that money was made largely after we were already teenagers, or out of the house.

My mom cut my hair with a bowl on my head, for crap’s sake. We never had brand name shit (and I still don’t give a fuck about that), except for one long sleeve Vuarnet shirt, the kind that changed colour when it got wet, which made sweating real awkward.

Fancy, we were not.

Target: 900 words
Written: 815 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: Journey To The Centre Of The Earth, Jules Verne
Comics: 100 Bullets 13-16
Music: Neil Young Essentials, Neil Young

evil dead: the musical 2

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Ah, it’s been a while since I saw it, but man, what a great show, even if this version was a bit more amateurish than the one we saw in Toronto in 2007. They’re doing Rocky Horror in the spring, which should be cool. They’ve already got a Magenta, and I’m getting a Janet.

I’m not sure, but I think Evil Ed might end up as Frankenfurter.

Anyways, one of the four musicals I’ve actually enjoyed, the other being Book of Mormon and Phantom.

I think the best part was my wife’s uncontrollable nervous laughter whenever she was getting sprayed with blood.

I guess I know how she’ll be in an emergency now.

Target: 900 words
Written: 1284 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: Journey To The Centre Of The Earth, Jules Verne
Comics: 100 Bullets 9-12
Music: Negotiation Limerick File, Beastie Boys

down in a hole

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This world is too expensive, and my wife has expensive taste.

I think it’s time for a restructuring. A little deflation could save everyone.

Target: 900 words
Written: 816 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: Lost In The Barrens, Farley Mowat
Comics: Once And Future 27-30
Music: Necessary Evil, Deborah Harry

lost in space

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I’m back to it – the non-Molly Parker, plus-Marta Kristen version, in which I don’t understand the infatuation with the latter.

I mean, she’s beautiful and all, but she’s window dressing most of the time in the show, like her mother. Nice to look at, but ultimately, boring.

In the Netflix version, Judy and Maureen were anything but (and I would be lying if I didn’t have an unnatural attraction to Molly Parker’s Maureen). Strong women are wonderful.

Flirty and light can be fun, but when the chips are down, I prefer a woman who engages, not one who demures.

Long term, superficial is unsustainable. But the depths of a strong woman?

They can feel so big, you get lost in them.

(In a good way, an endless exploration way, not a strong woman subsumes a weak man, though certainly, in any gender context, strong personalities do have a tendency to swallow the meeker, and that’s something to explore as well, but not in this particular instance. Men who wish their women are weaker are, well, sad and pathetic).

Anyway, so be it. I am married to a strong woman, of that there is no doubt. I’ll be the John to her Maureen any day.

Target: 900 words
Written: 992 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: The Wishsong Of Shannara, Terry Brooks
Comics: Once And Future 20-22, Die 20
Music: Nearly Lost You, Screaming Trees (Mark Lanegan, historically, so underrated)

wine headache

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My parents showed up unexpectedly last night for a porch visit, which turned into three bottles of wine and the complete derailing of any plans I had for reading, writing, et al, etc, et whatevera last night.

And now I’m hungover.

This is not shaping up to be the catch-up weekend I was hoping for.

Target: 900 words
Written: 1990 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: Queen Of Sorcery, David Eddings
Comics: Die 3-5, The Wicked + The Divine 42
Music: Utopia, Bjork

return from blue mountain

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Sounds like a cheesy Eighties find yourself adventure or maybe even a horror movie, where the kind of geeky lost soul goes somewhere, has an adventure, realizes it was all bullshit, and then comes back to sweep the girl of his dreams off her feet.

You know, the girl he’s only ever really known in passing, and who, in reality, would never date this guy who comes out of nowhere with his newfound perspective on life, all based around love (love he has for her, but she’s never really thought about him; she’s too busy diddling over the football star).

He’d have had some partying fun, met a girl who was maybe manipulative, but who would have taken him through his first real sexual experiences, but then betrayed him unexpectedly, making him realize he didn’t actually want what he thought he wanted, and so, he comes down the mountain, proposes to the girl, who is (because this is all about him and not her) expected to swoon and drop everything to be with this brand new bodhisattva/reformed bad boy, because love, and we all jump onboard and presume happily ever after, but really, what do these people even know about each other?

There’s likely some gratuitous nudity, because in this world, women are objects, not people, so making lewd jokes at their expense and paying some struggling actress to doff her top (and probably threaten that she’ll never work again if she doesn’t, or promise that the big studios will come running, and other big stars did it, and also, other stuff, behind the scenes, you know how it works, wink wink nudge nudge), and we’re all just fine with it because we love sexual freedom (which we do), but we also love the exploitation of women as a secondary class, and if we can combine the two… Hollywood!

Anyway, we’re back from Collingwood, and let’s hope that movie never gets made.

It sounds positively horrid.

Target: 900 words
Written: 247 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: Gregor And The Curse Of The Warmbloods
Comics: The Wicked + The Divine: 455 AD 1, The Wicked + The Divine 29-31
Music: Urban Hymns, The Verve (one of my all-time favourite albums... simply one of the best)

the first day of school

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Not that this matters to me, not having young kids, but it seems to have stirred up a hornet’s nest. So many things happening.

I laid the birds fall haiku to rest; the reception has been fairly meager but divine, having garnered more reads than I would have expected (~1600 by my guesstimate), which is crazy.

Secondly, my wife’s work released v2 of their Pay Equity Act chart, which was unchanged from the first one and reiterated the vindictiveness the COO and his cronies have against certain people. I have a lot to say about that, but we’re still figuring out the best path forward.

And then, of course, unreasonable human beings being unreasonable, and catching poor, defenseless creatures who can’t speak for themselves in between. No one’s vanity should come over another being’s life. I’m disgusted by the whole thing, especially when there’s such an easy solution to be had, if only one particular party would stop being entirely unreasonable and give the tiniest little bit (or one would stand up for his damn self for once and realize none of this behaviour is appropriate, normal or healthy). The level of selfishness involved is appalling.

Let’s just say that entitlement and selfishness bother me most of the time in other people, but when it reaches this point, I’m at a loss for words. The whole thing is disgusting.

Yes, the first day of school made me want to scream. To rage. But against what? Injustice? This world gets less just every day. Selfishness? This is a good one, but the selfish don’t feel guilt like the rest of us. Only their own vanity, their own narcissism needs feeding.

Taking responsibility for one’s bad behaviour requires understanding that one has committed bad behaviour in the first place, and I’m sure that none of these people would be willing to admit that.

After all, that wouldn’t get them what they want, no matter the expense to others, and no matter how small and petty the behaviour was.

At the end of the day, I would like to reshape my life to exclude all of it, but circumstances being what they are, we must suffer through the shit; we cannot control the actions of others, only our reactions to them.

The question is: how much shit are we willing to take, to hold onto jobs, onto love, onto relationships with the innocent victims of another’s sociopathy?

How far must we go? How much must we endure?

And is it worth it for the scraps we are thrown from the table?

Anyway, fuck today and most of the people involved.

Maybe reason will rule the days to come, but I doubt it. We aren’t that lucky.

Target: 800 words
Written: 649 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: Hail To The Chin: Further Confessions Of A B Movie Actor, Bruce Campbell
Comics: I Hate Fairyland v2 7-9, Untold Tales Of I Hate Fairyland v2 1
Music: Standup, Bill Hicks (in which he destroys his own comedy recording and issues one of the angriest takedowns of a heckler ever, beautifully.  I'm not sure "I'm a drunk cunt!" wouldn't get him cancelled nowadays, but hey, I laughed)

the best laid plans

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Friday night and we’ve washed the dogs. It’s only six o’clock. We’ve already eaten. They’ve walked.

Everything is done.

That means time to read, time to play. Time to think of better dates with my wife than dogwashing and trips to the dump.

Something involving candlelight, wine and maybe lingerie and massage oils.

So, instead, my parents drop in, unplanned, for a porch drink.

Ah, well, as my wife says, who knows how long they have left? Apparently, we can fuck later.

Target: 800 words
Written: 674 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: 'Salem's Lot, Stephen King (new book!  a classic!)
Comics: I Hate Fairyland 8-11
Music: Random Live Stuff, Creedence Clearwater Revival (except, it's not?  It's Eddie Vedder singing Sittin' On The Dock Of The Bay?  How did that happen?)