I guess we’re just abandoning the bathroom sink.
Moving out probably.
Whatever’s stuck down there is stronger than me. Possibly primordial. Almost definitely of the Seventh Circle, or some ancient mystical Lovecraftian shit.
Crap.
Is the Mungk in my pipes?
No, that bastard would never be so goddamned silent.
Target: 900 words
Written: 410 words, novella: The Mungk
Read: Swiss Family Robinson, Johann David Wyss
Comics: The Boys 1-4
Music: New Times, Violent FemmesSo, I’ve been writing for a long time. I’ve published a couple of things, written many that I’ve never sent anywhere, but I’ve never run into a piece that I wrote, but of which, I have absolutely no recollection.
Like none.
And here’s the thing. It’s fucking tight. It’s polished. It’s not revelatory or mindbending or anything, but it’s very good, for what it is.
And I remember absolutely nothing about it.
Even the topic isn’t one I’d usually write on – a serial dater who falls madly in love, then loses love, goes into a Young Werther style depression, then meets the next one and does the same thing.
It’s not long, but the characters are well fleshed out, the story has solid details and telling moments. The whole thing comes a nice full circle.
And as far as I can tell, I went into a fugue state to write it, printed it off, gave it to my wife to read and then wiped it from my memory so completely, I might as well be one of those walking, tired tropes from a Hallmark movie, that gets bonked on the head and loses the ability to remember anything except the skills they had and how to speak English.
Fucking. Weird.
And yet. Still somehow good enough to be published?
What. The. Fuck.
Target: 900 words
Written: 921 words, novella: The Mungk
Read: The Hepatitis Bathtub And Other Stories, NOFX
Comics: 100 Bullets 93-96 (so close, I'm practically giddy)
Music: New In Town, John MulaneyLike, let the world burn.
I’m just going to write and read and figure out how to be happy.
Maybe I’ll get it by the time I die of old age.
Maybe I’ll die before then and never know, but then, at least it will be over.
Target: 900 words
Written: 832 words, novella: The Mungk
Read: The Hepatitis Bathtub And Other Stories, NOFX
Comics: 100 Bullets 89-92
Music: New Born, MuseThe knowledge that we’re about to plunged into a hellscape has made me withdraw a little.
I was hoping we were finally done with these assholes, but nope. At least another four years (and who knows how much longer because the fuck wants to do away with elections) of them.
So, I’m taking a break. I’ve got probably a month or less before I’ve got a presentable version of The Mungk (at least, that’s the target). I’m going to focus on that for now before rejoining the fight in the only way I know how.
Writing, and not being a complete piece of shit.
I mean, I’m a little turd, but maybe there’s some leftover corn in me?
Anyway, not a total piece of shit, like those guys.
Fuck ’em. Fuck ’em forever.
Target: 900 words
Written: 331 words, novella: The Mungk
Read: The Hepatitis Bathtub And Other Stories, NOFX
Comics: 100 Bullets 85-88
Music: The New America, Bad Religion (I know, I know, not exactly comfort music given the situation, but hey, as a man raging against machines once said: anger is a gift.)I almost misspelled that as talk. Freudian slip, anyone?
But I do mean walk. I’d like to throw some shit on, grab the only things important to me, and just start walking.
Just. Gone. Tramping down foreign roads with a backpack and a laptop, a Kindle full of books.
In peace. Listening to the birds sing.
Praying for nature to remain unsavage.
It’s savage enough out here.
Target: 900 words
Written: 466 words, novella: The Mungk
Read: The Shining, Stephen King
Comics: 100 Bullets 65-68
Music: Never Surrender (From Kickboxer), Stan Bush (if this is the best you got, surrender, immediately, because you suck)Like, top of the bell curve, I imagine, for most.
Not horsecock, just average white guy.
That’s how we measure size in the internet era. In the Nineties, you would have said, Nicole Eggert pre-Baywatch, not Pamela Anderson mid-Baywatch.
And now it’s weird.
Target: 900 words
Written: 1631 words, novella: The Mungk
Read: Hunter Of Worlds, C.J. Cherryh
Comics: 100 Bullets 25-28
Music: Nervous & Weird, EverclearThat’s a big one, Mazy, we always say after my granddaughter’s iconic reprimand to Mazy when they came face to face (she’s a hundred and twenty pounds – the dog, not my granddaughter).
Today was a big one for me as well, as you’ll see in my target numbers.
Someday, that will be de rigeur, but not yet.
Not yet.
Target: 900 words
Written: 4623 words, novella: The Mungk
Read: Hunter Of Worlds, C.J. Cherryh
Comics: 100 Bullets 21-24
Music: Neon Ballroom, SilverchairProbably hundreds to go.
How many drafts could a drafter draft if a drafter could draft drafts?
The number is endless; we writerlies are a pile of muck abouters.
Never satisfied; always restless.
This is not in keeping with the Tao.
Target: 900 words
Written: 971 words, novella: The Mungk
Read: Journey To The Centre Of The Earth, Jules Verne
Comics: 100 Bullets 17-20
Music: Nena, Nena (nanoo, nanoo)And new epilogue. The Mungk rolls on, unperturbed. It slithers out from under the bed, crawling up the walls, pure shadow, indistinguishable from the rest save a restless uncomfortable feeling just beneath the heart and sudden, panicked suspicions of something, something, there’s something there and it’s watching and waiting and hissing in my ear…
And in the end, when we’re drifting off, drifting away, on the verge of nightly annihilation, comes a soft, sick whisper…
Target: 900 words
Written: 1389 words, novella: The Mungk
Read: The Wishsong Of Shannara, Terry Brooks
Comics: Die 15, Once And Future 13-15
Music: Navy Blues, Sloan (feelin' Canuck the last couple of days)I’m not sure what was going on with Sofi, but it felt like she woke at least twenty times last night, moving around and cuddling up and pushing away and just generally moving around.
Plus, the LEDs on the new mini-splits we got to heat our house (which work great as coolers, less as heaters) seemed very bright. I don’t know what was going on.
Things conspire to rob me of my rightful rest.
Great, now I sound like some long dead hero or evil god in a fantasy novel.
Torak, am I.
Ironic that the guy writing a whole book on the darkness of night should find himself more disturbed by unrelenting blue light.
Target: 900 words
Written: 358 words, novella: The Mungk
Read: The Wishsong Of Shannara, Terry Brooks
Comics: Die 13-14, Once And Future 11-12
Music: Naveed, Our Lady Peace