OMG

This is a straight up blog entry.  Not one of those girl parts a’twitter bullshit blog entries that are popular elsewhere.  This is angry and pointless ramble.  This is blogging from the ragged edge of drunken sanity.  Holy sweet fuck yeah.

Now, let’s get this going:

 This is what I had for lunch today.  Meatloaf. I had a lump or two of deer.  I took that, mixed it with some sausage, some robusto I made earlier today and some grain material.  That shit had maybe four or five Big Jim of peppers and a slew of smoked Scotchbonnets.  If you do not have the gut for said pH, I would recommend eating some pop-sickles or whatever satisfies your bitch-ass constitution.  Have I ever made meatloaf? Hell no.  I made that shit up as I went along. That’s how I roll, bitch.  And you think I give a damn about a bitch?  I ain’t a sucka. 

 City of Compton, etc.

I got murder on my mind.  It’s been there a while.  I didn’t notice it, but it crept in under the door of civilized thought.  I saw one of those spectral grayscale IR camera feed videos that flashed down some numeration and when the numbers hit right shit flared black (or white, depending on the setting of the FLIR) and I got the chills. No lie.  Not the bad chills.  Not the sort of chills that have landed me a night sleeping under a bridge smelling like gasoline and lightning heavy Kentucky.  No, these were the good hackle raising chills, the ones that pull lips over canines.  I love shit being blown apart, and that includes people (discussion: the author’s equation of people with shit).  What are they yelling?

Gangsta! Gangsta!

I can’t help it.  It’s brainwashing.  Maybe they were bad people, but more than likely, they were just like my people.  Religious and poor.  Fuck it.  Things blow up.  Might as well be on the right side of the trigger.  Some days I really miss it, others I know I’d rather stay home, rather spend a night in a queen size with a quality woman than out there.  So what is left?  I think I am a moral person.

 To explain:

I admit my bullshit.  Most people feel fine protesting this or that, but then support the cause with their debit card sliding through a slot.  Yeah, you hate that your neighbor’s kid ain’t coming home, but you continue to buy your bullshit lifestyle choices.  Your iPod, your tank of gas, your bullshit clothes, your bullshit requirements, they all cost someone more than you’re willing to pay.  It cost me a hooride, now I’m wanted for homicide.

In Slaughterhouse Five, Vonnegut probably describes best where my mind has been for years.  Anytime a happy and festive atmosphere found Mr. Pilgrim, he screams.  He isn’t exactly upset, just screams.  That’s how it goes, I guess.  When words do not suffice, all you have is screaming.  I control it, but damn it if I don’t want to scream when I have to put up with bullshit festivity.  Yeah, I got to stay home with my family this year, but my real family is away or never coming back for Christmas.  I hear my dad read the Gospel of Luke’s version of the Nativity and I want to punch him in the face.  Not for theological reasons, just because. 

I really should not have got a hatchet for Christmas. 

On Posts

I am not a fan of the new John Pine.  That is not a cast for compliments.  I just don’t like it.  I don’t like the voice.  I don’t like the setting.  I don’t like the product.

It started with an idea I got excited about and ran off with and probably ruined with enthusiasm.  I question now whether I should have shown it to anybody since I know I would have ended up rewriting it, but without the spectre of someone’s judgment hanging over the eventual product.  To explain that convoluted statement: I showed the original over enthusiastic section to someone who has the uncanny ability to be honest and they really doused what I had going, which was fine.  That was needed.  The problem was that it really destroyed my ability to write without audience in mind.  That being said, I finished it anyway.  In this case, I think its best just to set the idea and not get stuck in the eternal ongoing editing trap.

Me and the blogger formerly known as Chimmy discussed this a little a few days ago.  I am becoming more and more convinced that blogging is detrimental to your writing skills.  In blogging you eventually give into the compulsion to talk about your day and what you had for lunch or some bat/bull shit philosophy you came up with because of an episode of The Gilmore Girls and too much to drink.  And the comments.  Being honest, the fact that you have a little number representing how many comments you manage to get makes one little part of my brain want that number big and gaudy. 

The problem with that is (postulation) that posts that garner the most comments across the blogging community are typically the biggest loads of horeshit imaginable to the writer.  Or simply someone sharing bullshit philosophy that is immediately easy to agree with.  Or some pointless drivel about what movie/book/car/magazine/etc. you liked this week. 

Also, there is the fact that I am so much more productive when I am out of town, specifically, visiting my girlfriend.   

I am really not a fan of what I have been able to write since I came home from Denver.  Visiting Jen, even though she insists otherwise, must bring me some sort of tranquility I have a difficult time finding here in a silent and organized house. 

Conclusion: I suck, and so does this.

 Update: Sending The Highwayman out today.

Notes: John Pine

John Pine was started as a sort of pointless project over on my other blog called Fiction Friday.  I moved all of those posts over here, so some of you may have already read those.  They are Parts 1-3.  Part 4 was new as of yesterday and today Part 5 (new) is up.   Out of everything over there, the John Pine stuff will be my priority until it hits that magical 35,000 word mark where I can pare it down to a respectable novel and shop it out to an agent and eventually to a publisher.  This is my no shit shot at getting a novel published. 

 Once I’m done with it, and I hope to God that is soon, I will open content discussion up, but for now, let’s keep it technical.  All the pages have a comment box good for notes on spelling errors, grammatical snafus, etc.  Any sort of criticism is welcome, but keep in mind, I am really only concerned with mechanics right now.  If you are here, it is because you were in some way invited by me, so feel free to get in there and tear it up.  Anyone who makes an autobiographical connection between me and Mr. Pine will be banned for life.  That’s what I’ve heard the most, and frankly, it is irritating.  Almost irritating enought to make me give up on it.  Just because he talks funny and has a DD-214 does not mean he is me. 

As a note, I am going to submit the Highwayman  story (part of an ongoing project I am ignoring called Immortal) to something here shortly.  I need to clean it up and get it ready, but it will be submitted.  I have thought about the Writers of the Future contest, but am afraid that a SciFi book deal will pigeon hole me later.  Any input on that story is welcome as well, including possible places to shop it and pointers on how to get it out there. 

Thanks.

Explanation and Promulgation

This is a continuation of my other page.  This isn’t replacing or changing anything over there, this is just where I’ll put everything a little too literary or long to be blog material.  On the sidebar, you will see Pages.  That is where all the writings are stored, feel free to browse.  So far, the only thing not on my other blog is one chapter of the John Pine stuff (update: This is now a lie).

 All authorities and licence granted the other page apply over here, up to and including my right to write down terrible things.  You are warned.

 So, why this page?

I noticed that in the form of a real blog, you are required by some dark and sinister code to be silly, witty, current, and a little snide.  I have none of those skills down as much as I would like, so my blogging is fairly shitty.  Some people can be wondrously delightfully inconsequential every day and reap great blogging benefit from half informed opinion and the occasional Very Special Post About Life which is not informed at all.  I am not one of them.