i guess i shouldn’t write at night

Maybe late at night if it’s been a not-so-bad day, and I’m all keyed up and need a release.

But writing after a long day of a hard mental slog? It doesn’t leave much to be desired.

I had a thought about writing of wanting to be bigger than you are (on the inside! And not in the squishy, gooey, fatty way), but that’s too big for me now.

I am small.

My words are small. My works are small.

I am a haiku; flash fiction.

A one-shot comic.

A short story.

A novella, bordering on novelette.

What’s a novelette you say?

A book that wears heels and kicks up its legs in a line with its fellow works, all tits and fishnet, grinning to hide the awful realities behind it.

Target: 500 words
Written: 307 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: Welcome To Night Vale, Night Valia (I did like it, but the near constant podcast references slowed it waaaaaaaaaaaay down, making me wish time was as weird as they say it is, and thereby I could skim through it a bit faster.  It got to be a bit of a slog.)
Comics: East Of West 5-8 (way, way into this)
Music: Kiss Me, Kiss Me, Kiss Me, The Cure (I'd kiss you)

yesterday

Sorry about that. I guess maybe we’re not in a place where green apple splatters and sexual proclivities are ready to be discussed.

But…

This is the thing about this blog. I never started it intending to pretend to be someone else. I spent too many years full of shit and now, I am doing my best to transition into being someone who is honest, open and compassionate, who always makes the effort to see as many perspectives as he can, while not ignoring the simple realities of things.

A softy without blinders.

A man of honest assessment, without pretense or bullshit.

Because I don’t want to be an icon. I don’t want to be a role model, though I know, if I can live the way I would like, it would inevitably set an example. Of course, every way anyone behaves sets an example; whether it’s a good one or whether anyone follows it are separate questions.

I want to be honest, and that means warts. That means too much information. That means nothing is out of bounds, save the desires of those around me not to be discussed (filtered where appropriate). I respect the privacy of others. I am a private man myself, despite my admissions.

I don’t want people all up in my business, but neither do I want to hide my foibles.

I suppose I shouldn’t hide my successes either, but damned if I won’t try to downplay them; I don’t live for praise. I would just like people to be able to see my work.

I’m not a good networker.

These things are all true.

These things are all filtered, as is everything.

Cognitive filtration is automatic.

Target: 400 words
Written: 341 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: Welcome To Night Vale, Cranor/Fink (Fink/Cranor?)
Comics: Tokyo Ghost 9-10 (seriously - maybe the best comic of all time. It deserves to be in the conversation with Watchmen, Miller's Dark Knight, etc.)
Music: The King Of Limbs, Radiohead

sixty-nine

It’s day sixty-nine of good ole twenty-twenty-four and you know, it occurs to me, that all the things I’ve done in my life, I’m not sure I’ve ever actually sixty-nined.

Weird, right? I mean, I’m probably too fat to be on top, but I love cunnilingus, so I’m not really sure why I’ve never had a woman sit on my face.

Huh.

Things to look into.

Target: 400 words
Written: 721 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: Welcome To Night Vale, Cranor/Fink
Comics: Tokyo Ghost 5-8 (this might be the best comic series I've ever read. Top five, for sure.)
Music: King Animal, Soundgarden (you know what, pretty darn good for a late stage reunion album)