Redirection

Hi to everyone coming over from my other blog!

*crickets*

OK, ok, I know there’s not exactly teams of people stampeding my virtual door, but when my Dad mentioned that he had found my OTHER blog, the one I don’t post to any more, I realized that I should redirect people over to this one, so they can continue reading my stuff, if they are so inclined. I also changed over the link from my website, to make sure.

Had a talk with Kathy this morning, and went over a big insight of mine that I had… that she pointed out I had previously had about 6 months ago. So, I guess that makes it a kind of “recycled” insight. At least I’m helping the environment…

Anyway, I realized that sometimes I want to write, but not Thruspace. I desperately don’t want to let Thruspace fall through the cracks like State of Mind did, but, at the same time, I don’t want to either stifle my creativity by slogging through writing Thruspace that day just to get something done, or, worse, not write ANYTHING and get out of the habit. So… I’m not going to worry about it. I’m going to write, each and every day, but it’s not going to necessarily be Thruspace.

I think I’m going to try some short stories. Come up with an idea and just blow through it quick. It’ll be nice to actually have a completed project, instead of all these half-formed things lumping around in the basement… See? that gave me a story idea. Not necessarily a FULL story, or even a short story necessarily, but kind of a “middle”.

That’s what I’ll do. I’ll make “Middles” Like Monty Python sketches… they never used to bother with beginnings, or endings, they just did the funny middle parts, and moved on to the next idea. That’s what I’ll do. If I’m not working on a short story, or a novel, I’ll do a middle of some idea that randomly hit me, and flex my writing muscles that way. No worries, or stress, just writing whatever. A Middle.

I think I’ll do one now…

*Edit* – Finished one, called The Dungeon. I like it. Kathy had a brilliant idea (as she often does). These aren’t middles, they’re swatches. Webster’s defines “swatch” thusly:

swatch (swch) n.

1. A sample strip cut from a piece of material.

2. A representative portion; a sample

I couldn’t agree more. So, swatches they are.

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Weapons-grade stupidity

Sometimes I think my writing, especially in blogs, is a safety valve. I swear, if you put your ear up to my blog, you can hear the whistling of escaping steam. I wonder how many other people’s blogs are like that…

My boss is a dick. Just by the law of averages, there MUST be bosses out there who AREN’T dicks (when I was a boss, I wasn’t, and neither was my wife, so there’s two…), but so far I haven’t worked for one. What IS it with people in positions of power who feel that it’s just jim-dandy fine to let shit roll down hill onto those that work for them? Why would this EVER occur to someone as a good management technique? All it makes me want to do is turn off everything but my brain stem, and let it have at him… IT knows what to do to people like that, and it normally involves mopping, showering, and digging deep graves afterwards.

I’ve always wanted to write this book: there’s a prophesy that says that this guy is going to be the ultimate bad guy, and so all these “good” guys head out to kill him. Only problem is, this guy’s just an average Joe. Done nothing to no one, tried to live a decent life, and now all of a sudden they’re all out to get him. They fuck with him and fuck with him until finally he’s pushed to the ultimate limit, where he either let’s them kill him, or decides to stop them… and he realizes then that he CAN stop them. All those sanctimonious fucks that tried to destroy him and all he loves, he can destroy it all, burn it all to the fucking ground, and they DESERVE it. And he does. He kills them all, laughing, and burns their cities, and their “civilization”, all of it, enjoying each and every second of it.

And thus the prophesy is fulfilled.

I seriously wonder, if given the opportunity, would I burn it all to the ground? Probably not, because I’m still a nice guy, but the “good” guys keep trying, so maybe one day…

A small disclaimer (so people don’t think I’m insane… well, MORE insane)

The previous two posts are works of fiction. Part of this whole “blog” thing was to get me writing, and somehow knowing that (theoretically) other people could read this makes it more meaningful than just scribbling in a random notebook. When the fancy strikes, i start writing. Most times, it just about my day, but sometimes I just get in the mood for something and the words just flow out. THAT’S what I’m trying to foster, what’s been so hard for me the past year or two, just getting the flow to come so fast that my fingers blur on the keyboard, and I KNOW what the words are, I don’t have to think about it at all, it’s like I’m there watching it all and just have to write it down… I don’t know how else to describe it, it’s like the exact OPPOSITE of writer’s block.

I had a thought this morning on my way to work, that my problem may not necessarily be one of not ENOUGH creativity, but too MUCH creativity. It’s like trying to drink from a firehose sometimes…  I sit down in a nice, quiet place, and open myself up to be creative and OH GOD I WANT TO MODEL IN MAYA AND PLAY THE GUITAR AND DIRECT A MOVIE AND WRITE HALF A DOZEN NOVELS AND WRITE A SYMPHONY AND DO A COUPLE OF AD CAMPAIGNS AND COME UP WITH AN ALTERNATIVE TO THE THEORY OF RELATIVITY AND AND AND and then there’s some random pant-hooting and muffled thuds as I flop around for a while, and then I get up and go do something decidedly NON-creative, like watch TV, just for the rest, and nothing actually gets created.

I’ve been working on the theory that I’m just too lazy, but I don’t think that’s it. I think I’m going to try working at it like riding a bucking horse… a lot of prep, a lot of resin, hang on tight, and let the horse go where it wants for now, as long as I stay on. Once I get better at riding the thing, THEN I’ll start to try to direct it. I’m hoping that, with enough time in the saddle, I’ll develop a relationship with my creativity that will allow me to control it (as much as I can, anyway) and actually get somewhere with it.

After my first good ride I promise I’ll give it an apple or some sugar cubes.

Another one of those days

I can tell it’s going to be another one of those days…

You know when you close your eyes, and you can tell if there are walls around you or if it’s open and empty, or if there’s someone in the room with you? Have you ever closed your eyes and had your other senses tell you something totally different than what your eyes tell you?

When I close my eyes, I can sense them all around me.

I thought I could kind of see them last night, driving past an old abandoned building, peeking out of the broken windows at me. It’s like they were taunting me to come and see the old place, knowing that I’d never been there before, that noone ever thinks about it any more, like they knew that if I looked inside the windows I’d see that there was nothing behind it, just empty, raw, unfinished universe. I so wanted to stop and run at them, and look. I wanted to see what I would see.

Most of the time it’s just a warehouse. One of these times it won’t be.

I know God knows about me now. It’s him who’s taunting me like this. I know he doesn’t want a friend now. He’s scared of me, but there’s nothing he can do about it, because I can think of me more than he can. I don’t pray to him, he doesn’t know me, or what I want. I keep my thoughts of me to myself, and make myself solid. He can’t do anything to me, I won’t believe in it.

Unbalanced

There are times, sometimes, when I either don’t get enough of some vital nutrient, or possibly too much, where I start to question everything. Not just why I continue to go to my dead-end job every day, but question BIG things, like reality.

How much of this is simply contrived? I know, I KNOW, that a lot of what we consider to be reality is simply everybody milling around like sheep, following the footsteps we left the day before, going about our daily business the same as we always have. There’s a sameness to it all, with just little tiny steps forward, if you can call it forward. Teeny tiny little steps that lets all the little minds adjust slowly, like playing outside when you were a kid and not noticing that it was getting darker and darker around you. All of humanity just mills about while the world just gets dimmer and things get slower.

I SO want to break out of that.

It’s funny, too, because invariably when I think these things the miasma reaches up to try desperately to pull me back down. It’s like it doesn’t want me to think about it, like it’s too hard. I get this wave of tiredness like I should just stop thinking like this, but sometimes I can fight it. My mind fills with all these images of just throwing off all these mental shackles, to shrug off this group reality and do something DIFFERENT. I don’t mean little different, either, like go to Tim Horton’s for breakfast instead of Dunkin Donuts, I mean DIFFERENT like take over the planet. Honestly, sometimes I feel like I could just stand up and say “That’s it, now it’s my way”, and somehow, like using the Voice from Dune, people would just start doing things my way. I could rule this shitty little mudball so much BETTER than the people currently doing it. It’s not just that, either. I don’t want to be President or Emperor or something, I want to change reality. I want to… I don’t know. Reinvent everything. CHANGE everything, at the atomic level. I just want to spread my mind out and take everything in, and once I have it all in my head, reality would be MINE. All I have to do is KNOW everything, not just facts, but people, animals, objects, everything, about everything, and then I could just think differently about it, and it would change.

Maybe that’s what God is. Maybe that’s what he does. Maybe God is just some guy like me who finally managed to think everything. Maybe he’s thinking me right now, thinking about him. Maybe he’s lonely, and wants a friend. Maybe he wants to lay down everything, to clear his mind.

Or, maybe, he’s jealous of me. Maybe he’s scared I’ll take over. Maybe he’s the one that makes me so tired when I think this way. Maybe, if I think of him, more than he thinks of me, I can take his place.

Maybe then I can get to be God.

Slowly getting better

Well, we finally moved all my mother-in-law’s big furniture stuff we had to, and filled the oil tank, and got the van back from the shop, so it seems like things are slowing down a bit, which is nice. I’m hoping that things will level out a bit going forward.

My wife totally put my sister-in-law in place, pretty much telling her that she was overbearing and needed to back off. We still ended up moving her stuff for her, but the fact that she got the smackdown helped. Yay for wife!

I’m strangely looking forward to doing some yard work. Maybe it’s a hope for spring, but I’m really dying to chop thorn bushes down and re-hang a broken door on our shed and such. I think it may be an “order from chaos” thing that I do when I’m stressed.

The kids were dying to play D&D this evening, but I was way too burned out to play. I like to give them a good time when they play, and I just wasn’t up to it this evening. Hopefully we can play tomorrow (and finish my son’s project on Robert E Lee, and go to the movies… thing I try to do too many things?)

I’ll post again tomorrow… maybe someday I can get to the stage where I can do some story posting, maybe I serial short story or such. Like I always say, we’ll see…

NOT a good way to start the New Year…

I’d like to say up front that I’m not exactly pleased with 2009 so far, and, if it keeps it up, I may end up returning it to the store and use the money to reserve 2010.

  • The car’s in the shop getting brakes redone… again… for about the fourth time in the past 9 months, and the mechanic has NO idea why the brakes keep crapping out. NOT a confident statement. Again I’m thinking of taking someone back to the store.

Me: “Hi, I’ve got this 62 year-old mechanic I’d like to return, please.”

Cashier: “What’s wrong with him?”

Me: “He’s installed my brakes four times in 9 months and they still don’t work.”

Cashier: “That’s fine. I’m going to need a receipt, though.”

Mechanic: “Could you put me down? Can I go home?”


  • Our oil tank is empty. The house that we rent has the insulating properties of an ice-covered colander, so imagine my surprise when I go down yesterday morning to check the gauge and find out it’s pretty much on zero. I was afraid to tap it and have it drop to zero immediately, preferring to believe in Heisenberg’s Oil Level Uncertainty Principle, which states that, if you don’t tap the gauge, it may well be stuck, and you actually have tons of oil in the tank. I once kept a furnace burning for three months that way until my wife convinced me that we MUST be out of oil, at which time all the quantum oil evaporated. I’ve got a delivery scheduled for today, but it’s gonna be close.
  • We’re moving my mother-in-law this weekend. Normally that statement would be bad enough without any explanation, but wait, there’s more! We’re also moving some things for my wife’s sister, which, somehow, has earned us her undying wrath. We’re renting a U-Haul truck to move some of the things we’re storing at our house, and, while we had it, offered to move a few of the things her sister wanted as well. I’m guessing here, but I think the phrase “We’d like to help you move some things” sounds remarkably like “We’d like to kill you and do unspeakable things to your corpse” in Sisterspeak, because that’s the reaction we got. My answer to this dilemma would be to leave the sister standing next to her big pile of stuff as we drove away in our U-Haul, waving to quickly shrinking form in the rear-view mirror, but my wife seems less inclined to go that route. I’ll keep working on it.

There’s a few more personal things which I won’t spell out here in gory, graphic detail, but you get the picture. Maybe Monday will be better, starting the first full week of 2009. I can only hope.