tegan and sara, part deux

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You know what? For only knowing a handful of songs, it was a pretty good show. They played well, good songs and the stage patter… well, I’m not sure if they were ever stand-up comics in their life, but they do a hell of an impression. I’m not used to my rock stars being so quick-witted.

Plus, it’s nice to see a community coming together. I’m not gay myself, but I’d wager a large portion of the county’s local lesbian population was at the concert, singing and being generally nice to each other, save a pair of dental assistant twins who were screaming so obnoxiously that even the band told them to shut the fuck up.

Seriously. How obnoxious must you be where your screaming at a rock concert is a little too much, for everyone, including the band?

Anyway, despite that, it was a good feel, lots of love and probably complicated feelings about love lives and things going around. At least no one got married, but the fervor that people rushing the stage to donate money for guitar picks and set lists (going to charity), damn. I’ve never been that stoked over anything but the middle of great sex with a very hot woman (my wife, for the record).

Anyway, long story short. Good time. Worth the trip.

Target: 500 words
Written: 1741 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: Gregor The Overlander, Suzanne Collins
Comics: Rat Queens v2 6-9
Music: The Very Best Of Cat Stevens, Cat Stevens (imagine that)

tegan and sara

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I don’t know a lot of songs, but I’m about to learn, apparently.

We’re off to catch Tegan & Sara tonight, so hey, limits.

Limited time. Limited energy. I’m sure I’ll enjoy it, but mostly, I’d like to sleep.

Target: 500 words
Written: 499 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: Gregor The Overlander, Suzanne Collins
Comics: Rat Queens v2 3-5, Orc Dave 1
Music: The Very Best Of Elvis Costello (I mean, it was shaping up to be a hipstery kind of day, anyway)

focusin’

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I seem to slipping into the zone more easily this morning. Maybe it’s an illusion, but I killed my workout this morning, and focus seems to be top of the pops when I’m doing my morning work, my morning commute, as I would say.

Writing’s going well, I’m tuned in, tuned on, and the music flows through me without being a distraction, but a driver.

It’s nice. This doesn’t happen that often.

Maybe the funk is breaking. Hold on long enough and it will; all things pass, as they say, including the bad stuff.

Target: 500 words
Written: 365 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: The Art Of Non-Conformity, Chris Guillebeau
Comics: Rat Queens 15-16, Rat Queens v2 1-2
Music: The Very Best, Nirvana

stuck

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Today, I am stuck. Every move, blocked. Every item, twisted.

Every step, stagger.

Today, my shoes are sodden with muck, sucking holes bearing downward into the mire.

It is as it always is, as it ever will be.

We are a death march.

Target: 500 words
Written: 587 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: The Art Of Non-Conformity, Chris Guillebeau
Comics: Rat Queens 11-14
Music: The Verve EP, The Verve (fuck, I love these guys)

the day that got away

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Nothing happened, but the groceries, therapy (not mine, I would never burden a poor healthcare employee with such destruction), and then dog walks.

And just like, poof.

The day is gone.

Target: 500 words
Written: 1751 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: The Art Of Non-Conformity, Chris Guillebeau
Comics: Rat Queens 8-10, Braga 1
Music: Verities & Balderdash, Harry Chapin

dance good

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My niece is a competitive dancer; she’s pretty darn good. I, on the other hand, do a passable white man at best.

I can sort of do the Carlton (and yes, I have a couple of favourite Tom Jones songs – probably the same ones as every other white boy).

I am a basic bitch.

But she is not. She is skilled to the point where maybe it could be a career. I’m not sure dancers make careers out of it for the cash, but rather, the love of the dance, the camaraderie, possibly even the travel.

And then, of course, a school. Teaching what can be taught to the willing and unwilling alike.

But it is the love of the thing that makes it worthwhile; it is a failure of our society not to reward the arts as it would any other profession. A dancer plays a role in society, with more love than some paper-pusher. It is refreshing to the soul, ours and the artist’s.

That’s worth something, is it not?

Target: 500 words
Written: 308 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: Dancing Barefoot, Wil Wheaton
Comics: Rat Queens 4-7
Music: Venue Songs, They Might Be Giant (an entire album of hastily composed songs about the stages upon which they played on a particular tour?  Well, then.  Kind of brilliant, in a way.)

saturday

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After successfully ripping off both Matt Fraction and Night Vale yesterday, I think I’ll take it a bit easier today. Laundry. Writing. Reading. Maybe some special “me” time (video games, jerks), in between a trip to the grocery store and a dog walk.

It’s funny, because all of that seems so relaxing, and yet, I think what I’d really like to do is go back to bed for several hours and then laze out all day on the couch, only getting up to pee, eat and hopefully, fuck.

What else could a guy need?

Depression and exhaustion are motherfuckers.

Target: 500 words
Written: 301 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: Pride And Prejudice And Zombies, Jane Austen, probably
Comics: Rat Queens Preview 1, Rat Queens 1-3
Music: Veni Vidi Vicious, The Hives (as wake-up music goes, none better.  I think Hate To Say I Told You So would be my entrance them if I were a WWE wrestler)

lollobrigada

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I like saying that. I know next to little about her, other than maybe she was gifted up top, but I think the best part is her name.

Lo-llo-bri-gah-dah.

Say it. It’s fun.

Loh-loh-brih-gah-daaaaah.

This has been traffic.

Target: 500 words
Written: 451 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: Pride And Prejudice And Zombies, Seth-Grahame-Smith, probably.
Comics: East Of West 44-45 (ending felt rushed, but still, so good)
Music: Velvet Underground & Nico, Velvet Underground & Nico

velvet

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There are some bands about whom I just don’t get the hype. I mean, I don’t get the hype on most pop stars; though I’ll say some of the modern pop singers have a surprising depth of lyrics these days, which is cool.

There was a period there where it felt like all pop music had devolved to simply repeating a catch phrase or inspirational snippet over a half-catchy beat. Some of it is still that. Fight Song sounds like it was written for a corporate retreat, for fuck’s sake.

Today, though, I’m talking about revered bands, bands that are held up as true legends and pioneers, almost indisputably.

And I don’t get it.

Pink Floyd comes to mind, as do the Grateful Dead. I’m not saying they’re bad bands or they make bad music, only that nine times out of ten, the person going on and on about them is demonstrating a pretentiousness that suggests maybe this is their godhead only because it allows them look cooler because of the shared myth of transcending music or culture we’ve created around these particular bands, and not because of actual artistic catalyst.

I’m not saying Kurt Cobain didn’t know what he was talking about, but the Meat Puppets are meh, most of the time.

The Velvet Underground, on the other hand…

That one I fucking get.

This is going to sound pretentious, but it’s one of those things. You hear Sweet Jane or Lou Reed’s Take A Walk On The Wild Side and think, this is pretty cool, and then, you listen to one or another and next thing you know, your whole brain is lost in the discord of Murder Mystery or Berlin or live concert footage of Alaska and you’re going, holy shit. This is the real deal.

Is every song amazing? No, of course not. Are they all good? Haven’t heard one yet I didn’t like.

The weird part is Andy Warhol. I’ve never really cared for Warhol’s own art, most of it being the kind of pretentiousness that turns me off, but as a facilitator of art, a discoverer of great artists?

I’m not sure there’s anyone better.

See? I can be pretentious too, motherfucker.

Target: 500 words
Written: 1101 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: Pride And Prejudice And Zombies, Seth Grahame-Smith
Comics: East Of West 40-43
Music: The Velvet Underground, The Velvet Underground (in case you're wondering what brought this up today)

possible

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So, I guess it’s possible to get published after all. Not that I had any doubts of my sister-in-law’s ability to do so, we’ve definitely gone about it in different ways. She’s networked her way to support for her book, and that’s the smart way to do it.

I’ve apparently opted for the struggling artist in silence, waiting for discovery somehow from the confines of my attic.

These two things are not particularly compatible. It is unlikely that I will ever be discovered, sending out screeds from my basement; it is a matter of personal disgust to whore myself out.

I know it’s about making a genuine connection with people, with those that may be into the things you’re creating. I know that.

Humanity hasn’t exactly been showing its best side lately and I wouldn’t even know where to look to find a tribe or like-minded folks without running into the kind of awful people I seek endlessly to avoid. I can’t do anymore myopic right-wingers or self-important snoots. I want genuine; I don’t want people who look down their nose at others, or those who want to drag everyone into the muck.

I can’t do it.

The time and energy commitment, when I have so little of either, is a real bummer; how could I possibly have less and survive?

I don’t know.

I am my own worst enemy.

I am my only protector.

Shit.

Target: 500 words
Written: 194 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: Pride And Prejudice And Zombies, Seth Grahame-Smith
Comics: East Of West 36-39
Music: Vans Presents: The General Strike EP, Anti-Flag, Popcorn, Muse, The Vegas Years, Everclear