This weekend, we’ll dive deeper on the whole “ask forgiveness, not permission” thing, but for now, today, it’s migraine o’clock with a full work day ahead of me.
The seventh draft begins, like a seventh seal broken, and things can only go down from here.
Target: 800 words
Written: 259 words, novella: The Mungk
Read: Tao Te Ching (Ursula Leguin edition)
Comics: Middlewest 15-18
Music: Live Things, NirvanaListen, it’s not actually an issue. I don’t show up drunk for my niece’s recitals or sneak whiskey shots from my desk drawer at the office.
But it’s there.
It’s a part of life.
I likely don’t exceed a six pack a week, and maybe a couple of glasses of wine. Like, a drink a night (although a lot of nights, I don’t have anything).
But what I am struggling with is whether a seven year old would call Jim Beam Mr. Beam or mis-hear it as Mr. Bean.
But do I want Rowan Atkinson in this? I love the character, but the connection is incongruous with what I’m trying to do.
Mr. Beam, Mr. Bean, Mr. Beam.
Safer to stick to what you know, I guess, and Jim Beam ain’t it.
Nasty stuff, that. I’ll never understand Americans and their obsession with bourbon. It pales in comparison to true whiskey or scotch. Playdough to cement. Koolaid to an Old Fashioned. Sure, it’ll get you drunk, but damn, don’t you want it to taste halfway decent while you do it?
Target: 800 words
Written: 632 words, novella: The Mungk
Read: 'Salem's Lot, Stephen King
Comics: I Hate Fairyland 15-18
Music: More Live Random, Guns 'n' Roses (you wanted the best, but they didn't make it... so here's what you get.)I’m looking forward to the end, I think. I don’t want it to come until I’ve met all my goals, but I think it might be a relief.
The hope is that I don’t lose the ability to do all this stuff before I go, or turn into some mediocre shade.
Or worse, give up.
Fucking suffering, fucking with a purpose. Endless pleasure and a cacophony of orgasm is the end goal, after we get through all the awkward and uncomfortable talk about whether it’s okay to kiss or hold hands.
We’ll get to the kink when it’s time to spice things up, I suppose.
Target: 800 words
Written: 191 words, novella: The Mungk
Read: Brothers Of Earth, CJ Cherryh (I might even finish this, finally)
Comics: Bully Wars 5, I Hate Fairyland 1-3
Music: Random Covers, NirvanaIt stares at me. Dares me. Five drafts down, and still shit.
Maybe it will never be else.
Just a pile of runny diarrhea, not even kind enough to be cohesive, splattered on the floor.
How long is ten thousand hours?
Can I training myself in the art of creating shit?
The art of defecation on the page?
These are the questions that spit at me in the mornings.
Are you nothing more than a diarrhea factory? Leaky housing for liquid shit?
Ain’t I hot?
Target: 800 words
Written: 374 words, novella: The Mungk
Read: The Adventures of Captain Hatteras, Jules Verne
Comics: The Crow: Wild Justice 1-3, The Crow: Waking Nightmares 1
Music: The Undiscovered Numbers And Colours, Foreign ObjectsI’m increasingly beginning to think I’m playing lute for the damned.
The seemingly unstoppable march of fascism, climate change, gun violence, bigotry, overpopulation, war, fucking microplastics…
At this point, I’m thinking I could write humanity’s single greatest work of fiction, and it wouldn’t matter, because humanity itself will be gone before my lifetime is out.
My lifetime might be tomorrow.
Armageddon might be tomorrow.
I have works of staggering genius in me, but I fear that neither I nor anyone else will live to see them.
Nor will I ever get my head far enough out of my ass to complete them.
Is it still fatalism if it’s true?
Target: 800 words
Written: 535 words, novella: The Mungk
Read: The Adventures Of Captain Hatteras, Jules Verne (it's nice to feel cold in this heat)
Comics: The Crow: Flesh And Blood 3, The Crow: City Of Angels 1-3
Music: Undisclosed Desires, Muse (apropos, I suppropose) <-- that's the staggering genius I'm talking about.It’s Deadpool & Wolverine day for me, and I am stoked.
Not only is Ryan Reynolds one of my favourite comedy actors and fellow geeks, he’s also a good Canadian boy, which I appreciate.
Weirdly, I’ve never been particularly nationalist, but I like to support the locals, especially when they’re doing cool things (sorry, Bieber, Nickelback, you ain’t my cup of tea).
Anyway, excited. The first two were great, so I can’t wait.
Also, my second writing was hit this morning, so a mini cigarillo is in order, and it’s nice enough to do it, so yay!
Target: 800 words
Written: 430 words, novella: The Mungk
Read: The Adventures Of Captain Hatteras, Jules Verne
Comics: The Crow 3-5, The Crow: Dead Time 1 (can I just say that The Crow is a seminal work in Gothic horror/romance? Every time I've read it, it hits me - fucking angst, anger and love injected straight into my veins. Absolutely gutting. Absolutely beautiful.)
Music: Underground V5.0, Linkin ParkI just want to write Sublime lyrics, as I listen to Saw Red while I try and figure out what I want to say today.
Unfortunately, I’ve come to the conclusion that I have nothing to say.
Sometimes, that’s enough.
Target: 700 words
Written: 339 words, novella: The Mungk
Read: The Elfstones Of Shannara, Terry Brooks
Comics: Symmetry 8, Postal 16, Eden's Fall 3, Romulus 2
Music: John Coltrane Essentials, John Coltrane (I still don't really get jazz, but man, Equinox and Wise Man sucked me in. You have to appreciate the man's skill.)Tomorrow, I’m turning another year older. Almost half a century on this planet, and I don’t know a goddamn thing.
The Mungk got me when I was a child, and has scraped me clean.
I am a shadow, visible, but without substance.
Target: 700 words
Written: 470 words, novella: The Mungk
Read: The Elfstones Of Shannara, Terry Brooks
Comics: Postal 8-9, The Tithe 7, Symmetry 1
Music: Ultra Rare Trax, Volumes 2 and 4, Lou Reed and The Velvet UndergroundEvery year, I think there’s a story in the subculture of Ribfest.
Every damn year.
There’s a raunchy comedy in there somewhere, and at some point, I’m going to write it.
Hell, maybe I’ll make a comic out of it. That could work, although it screams crude sex comedy with lots of butts and boobs and random dicks.
Maybe the return of the batwing, a la Waiting.
I don’t know. There could be a book in it, but hell, it’s hard to make a book that funny. I do have ideas for another book that’s funny. Several, actually, but they have heart.
Can I add heart to Ribfest?
Is there a book in this? Who would be the villain?
Vegans?
Yes. Vegans.
Target: 700 words
Written: 944 words, novella: The Mungk
Read: Living Dead In Dallas, Charlaine Harris
Comics: Think Tank 12, Think Tank: Fun With PTSD 1, Wildfire 1-2
Music: The Ultimate Best Of Queen, uh, Queen (so hit or miss - the best Queen song is Under Pressure, by David Bowie. That said, the good is really good, the bad is... well... Bicycle. Prog rock shite).I mean, there’s room for improvement, but seventeen words?
Can’t do much less than that.
Target: 700 words
Written: 17 words, novella: The Mungk
Read: Living Dead In Dallas, Charlaine Harris
Comics: Think Tank: Military Dossier 1, Think Tank 5-7
Music: Ukulele Songs, Eddie Vedder