And I’m sick. Runny, plugged nose (funny how these two opposite things go together so well when it comes to the common cold).
I don’t know where it came from, but probably karma.
Probably fucking karma.
Fuckin’ karma.
Target: 900 words
Written: 201 words, novella: The Mungk
Reading: Hunter Of Worlds, C.J. Cherryh
Comics: 100 Bullets 45-48
Music: The Unraveling, Rise Against (certainly seems that way)Man, that granddaughter knows exactly where to stick the knife. The last time we were there, she got all pouty because we were leaving (she knows Sunday morning breakfast means we’re going home, so she does her best to avoid/delay it), and says to my wife and I:
“I don’t need you. I only need Mommy and Daddy.”
This time around, in between having bouts of wild fun, she turned and told me:
“I don’t like you.”
After a while, you know, while my heart was still oozing on the floor in front of me where it had been ripped out, it became a giggling game, where she was hurting to joke, but maybe not realizing it was hurting.
I tried to play it off, but I’d be lying if I didn’t feel terrible.
It was a bizarre weekend all around, and I feel like maybe I need to pull back a bit. The problem is we love the kid so much, but man, with everything else going on right now, it’s getting very hard not to get emotional over shit like that.
Anyway, more to speak on all this, but the memory is stabbing, so for now, don’t be a jerk to people.
It’s not cool.
Target: 900 words
Written: 88 words, novella: The Mungk
Read: Hunter Of Worlds, C.J. Cherryh
Comics: 100 Bullets 41-44
Music: Unplugged In Sweden, Chris Cornell (talk about albums that leave you breathless - after Nirvana's MTV Unplugged, the best acoustic album, possibly ever)I have a lot to say, but I’m parsing exactly how I want to say it. I’m part angry, part heartbroken, part ecstatic, part mortified.
I love the damn kid so much, but the accoutrements, at times, can be galling.
Target: 900 words
Written: 211 words, novella: The Mungk
Read: Hunter Of Worlds, C.J. Cherryh
Comics: 100 Bullets 37-40
Music: Unplugged And Undrugged, Pearl JamOff to see the wiz-I mean, granddaughter.
FINALLY.
Target: 900 words
Written: 2633 words, novella: The Mungk
Read: Hunter Of Worlds, C.J. Cherryh
Comics: 100 Bullets 33-36
Music: Unplugged, Guns 'n' Roses (Jesus Christ, which one of them thought One In A Million was anything other than bigoted bullshit?)I don’t care about how vapid and silly it might be, I fucking love AC/DC. There’s just something pure about the rock ‘n’ roll side of it (and they put on a hell of a show).
It’s like… innocent.
And not fake. That’s the thing about music. What draws me in isn’t really a catchy beat or cleverness or popularity – a song or band or singer can have all of these and be garbage.
What draws me in is how genuinely the band is into what they’re doing. It’s why great bands sometimes go off the rails by trying something pretentious and experimental, and simple, vapid bands like AC/DC can be glorious.
They are doing exactly what they want to do; they do it well. It’s clear there’s passion for the work there, no matter how much fluff it may be.
And that rocks.
Target: 900 words
Written: 459 words, novella: The Mungk
Read: Hunter Of Worlds, C.J. Cherryh
Comics: 100 Bullets 29-32
Music: The Rolling Stones, UnpluggedLike, 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: ¡UNO!, Green DayThat’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: Uno, MuseProbably 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: The Rolling Stones Rock 'N' Roll Circus, The Stones et alNot 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: Other Standup, Bill Hicks (we are the hooligans)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: 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)