What’s your favorite part of Halloween? The mountains of candy? The excuse to put on a costume? Visiting lots of spooky houses? My favorite part of Halloween is the annual Simpsons Treehouse of Horror episode. I anticipate these specials so much that I occasionally have dreams about either watching them or being a character in them. Every dream ends the same way: with me cowering away from the end credits where the Gracie Films lady screams her head off in terror before organ music plays.
The Treehouse of Horror episodes can get crazy in a hurry. But why the hell would the guys at Gracie Films do an episode…in a library? Don’t get me wrong, I love to kick back and read like every other geek out there. But this is Halloween. You can’t eat books and get a sugar headache. You might have intestinal problems, but no sugar headache.
It turns out the library was supposed to be a safe haven from the monsters outside who like to eat human beings like the candy that’s supposed to be given out. I didn’t know what kind of monsters they were and I wasn’t anxious to find out. So what does the library do? They keep the patrons safe by isolating them with magical curtains. It’s the introvert’s paradise: a curtain booth with nothing but a good book and a wild imagination.
The curtain booths actually do a good job of keeping me and the Simpson family safe, which is kind of anticlimactic for a Treehouse of Horror episode. I’ll tell you what wasn’t anticlimactic. The library offered patrons the chance to take a quiz to figure out which musician has a crush on us. When I took this quiz, I was excited that the results would say something like Tarja Turunen, Maria Brink, or Jeanne Sagan. Nope. I got Elton John. There’s nothing wrong with Elton John having a crush on me, but it’s not the answer I was hoping for.
Thus ends this dreamy episode of The Simpsons Treehouse of Horror. And the best part: no screaming lady after the end credits! Waking up without pissing my bed is a nice way to start the morning. Waking up with more questions than answers is not. I can figure out why The Simpsons would figure into my subconscious: because I enjoy the Halloween episodes.
But why did it take place in a library and why does Elton John find me attractive? I like libraries, but I’ve only heard two Elton John songs in my whole life: “I’m Still Standing” and “Rocket Man”. In the latter of these two songs, Elton says that mars isn’t the kind of place to raise your kids, because it’s cold as hell. You know what else is cold as hell? My subconscious’ sense of humor. Laugh it up, inner brain. I’m glad you think this is hilarious.
***COMEDIC QUOTE OF THE DAY***
“We’re only going to lock up true sex offenders. We’re not going to bother with consenting adults who like to dress up in leather boy scout uniforms and smash each other in the head with ball peen hammers while they take turns blowing their cat. There’s certainly nothing wrong with that. It’s a victimless hobby. And think of how good the cat must feel. We’re only going to lock up rapists and molesters. Those hopeless romantics who are so full of love they can’t help but get a little bit of it on you. Usually on your leg.”
-George Carlin-
If you work in a creative field, you’ve probably heard the phrase “Inspiration can strike anytime” at least a million times. When it came to the creation of a character named Mars Deathstyle, inspiration was a handicapped match in which my opponents were Diablo II and Star Wars: Knights of the Old Republic II. You see, Mars is a dual class character. He’s a barbarian (Diablo II) slash Jedi consular (Star Wars: KOTOR II). If we need an official name for his combined character class, it would be a shaman since they’re basically primitive wizards.
Mars Deathstyle was the voice of reason character in a 2006 dark fantasy movie script I wrote called City of Darkness. The movie was about an ongoing war between the light paladins (followers of Luther) and dark paladins (followers of Quinn). Apparently, being the voice of reason in this movie script is a 24/7 job, because the main characters changed alignment every five pages. There was one character who went from a light paladin to a dark paladin to someone completely neutral. The other characters were no more decisive.
When you’re a staff-wielding badass barbarian wizard like Mars Deathstyle and you have to preach a message to these indecisive bastards, how do you do it without going insane? You’d truly have to know something that the main characters don’t. That secret ended up being Luther and Quinn purposefully pitting human warriors against each other for their mutual amusement. The whole war was one big sham. Imagine that: war isn’t the answer after all.
Okay, so you have access to this very dark secret, now you have to get your message out to the participants of this war. The only problem is, the followers of these two “deities” are paladins and paladins are known for being devout zealots. Mars would have had a better time rehabilitating members of the Westboro Baptist Church. The stronger the zeal, the taller the task.
To do Mars’s job of convincing people they’re wrong, you have to have a certain set of skills. These skills include, but are not limited to powerful voice inflection, research of facts, natural charisma, and resources to spread this message where a booming voice isn’t always enough. To my surprise, Mars was actually able to put an end to this war with these things alone.
Ergo, the next time he gets used in a story of mine, he will be known as a wise peacekeeper. The only time when he’ll use his combative magic is if his life is being threatened. And trust me, with a last name like Deathstyle, you don’t want this crotchety old man throwing a fireball or a lightning bolt at you. Mars may be close to the retirement age, but his career is far from over.
***LYRICS OF THE DAY***
“I don’t want to spend the rest of my life looking at the barrel of an ArmaLite. I don’t want to spend the rest of my days keeping out of trouble like the soldiers say. I don’t want to spend my time in hell looking at the walls of a prison cell. I don’t ever want to play the part of a statistic on a government chart. There has to be an invisible sun. It gives its heat to everyone. There has to be an invisible sun. It gives us hope when the hope is gone.”
-The Police singing “Invisible Sun”-
If you were to take a good look at James Frey’s body, you’d assume that he exercises a lot. According to his loudest critics, the only exercises he does are stretching the truth and jumping to conclusions. Imagine that: a former drug addict exaggerates details of his memoir. Who would’ve thunk it? Truth is, I could care less if “A Million Little Pieces” is a true story or not, because it’s still a beautifully depressing book with a quick writing style.
If you really want to use the “fake” argument against me, then I’m going to tell you the same thing I tell people who say that professional wrestling is fake. I’m going to say, “Hey, Harry Potter and Lord of the Rings are fake and I don’t hear you bitching about them. I don’t hear you complaining about The Flintstones not being a documentary.”
Whether this particular book is fact or fiction is irrelevant, because if you enjoy reading heartbreaking memoirs that are also triumphant, you’ll love “A Million Little Pieces”. It doesn’t even read like a typical memoir with linear progression. It actually reads like a novel with a beginning, middle, and end. It also has likable and three-dimensional characters. The writing style is present tense and takes a lot of liberties with the exclusion of quotation marks and other forms of punctuation, but that’s what makes it an exciting read in the first place.
If I have to keep on driving home the point that this is a dark and depressing memoir, then consider this paragraph to be the final nail in that coffin. James Frey starts the story with him waking up on an airplane with a broken nose and missing teeth, both of which were aggravated from his lifelong addictions to alcohol and drugs. He’s being taken to a clinic in Minnesota to be treated for these addictions, because if he uses again, he will die, no ifs ands or buts.
Life in a drug rehab center isn’t a whole lot of fun in case you couldn’t tell. There are people in constant pain from detoxing, there are people vomiting, there are people acting hostile and crazy, none of these things unlike what James Frey used to be before the story’s end. How does one combat all of these things for six weeks and come out smelling like roses? Mr. Frey doesn’t want to do it through God or a higher power of any kind. If you want to see how he triumphs through all the darkness and depression, you’ll have to read this book.
If you’re still complaining about how James Frey is a “phony” and a “fraud”, then you just go ahead and do all the drugs you want until you become an addict. We’ll see if your story is any different from Mr. Frey’s.
***TELEVISION DIALOGUE OF THE DAY***
DEEKS: Let’s go for a beer.
GRANGER: To drink or to post on Face Book?
-NCIS: Los Angeles-
In the late 90’s, there were two things I believed to be true: love wasn’t worth fighting for and Pink Floyd was the greatest band in the world. I needed a theme song that combined these two staunch beliefs and that song was “All Lovers Are Deranged” by David Gilmour, the guitarist and co-vocalist for Pink Floyd.
The Pink Floyd fandom was easy for me, especially after they published a song called “Another Brick in the Wall, Pt. 2” (we don’t need no education). I hated going to middle school in the late 90’s, so Pink Floyd earned a lot of brownie points with me.
The part about resisting romantic love was also easy for me back then because I had a father who owed alimony and child support to multiple ex-wives. Okay, so there aren’t many 11 to 13-year-olds who have to pay alimony, but the idea of it happening one day scared me to death.
This was also during a time when I watched the movie Happy Gilmore (no relation to David) and I learned how the IRS punishes people who don’t pay their taxes: by taking their stuff. I was very protective of my property (especially my Legos and videogames), so sharing them with a girl was out of the question.
I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t tempted by these girls in middle school, though. I took a special liking to women who walked around in shorts and sandals. I didn’t know why at the time, I just liked that about a woman. I would later find out by a special invention called the internet that I had a foot fetish. All questions were answered.
But no matter how many times the girls in my school dressed in shorts and sandals, I turned down every one of them who asked me on a date. Again, I was very protective of my personal things. Add to this the idea of being controlled by someone and the paranoia was even stronger.
I didn’t learn how to fall in love until I turned 15 years old. I went away for a summer retreat in Bellingham and they held dances. I showed up looking for something to drink and from out of nowhere, this pretty girl comes up to me and asks for a dance to a slow song. Also from out of nowhere, I said yes to her. I enjoyed being close with this woman in an intimate way even if it was only for a few minutes. If I can get a little graphic for a moment, there was even a time where…you know…it moved. Ahem!
So now that I know how to fall in love with women, I also know how much it hurts when I know I can’t have the one I fall in love with. I had so many crushes in high school and college that I wanted to duplicate that intimate feeling with. At the time, I thought rejection hurt worse than never trying. I still believe that to this day.
That’s why I consider myself lucky that I was able to have a relationship with a woman named Brianna and feel good about having it. We held hands, hugged, and I even got my first kiss from her. Yes, it took me a long time to get my first kiss, but I got it, by god. That milestone felt good. What didn’t feel good was never seeing her again after an awkward date in which she got in a political argument with my liberal mother. Still, given the awkwardness, I enjoyed every minute I got to be with Brianna even if it was only for a few months.
It’s not the late 90’s anymore and I still have David Gilmour’s music burned to my computer. Are all lovers deranged? It takes a certain craziness to think that love conquers all. Then again, who ever said I was sane? I’m the same guy who believes Mickey Mouse Clubhouse is a cute show and the real world is faker than professional wrestling. Would I do it all again in a heartbeat? Absolutely. Broken hearts can be mended, but lonely ones can’t.
***WRESTLING QUOTE OF THE DAY***
“Marriage is a lot like a deck of cards: in the beginning, all you need is two hearts and two diamonds, but in the end, you wish you had a club or a spade.”
-Jerry “The King” Lawler-
I used to think that professional wrestling was the most criticized sport in the world until I started watching mixed-martial arts around the time when Brock Lesnar became the UFC Heavyweight Champion. In only a short period of time, I’ve seen all the negative aspects of the sport: homophobia, transphobia, misogyny, poor sportsmanship, cyber-bullying, unwarranted criticism, premature referee stoppages, squirrelly judging, what more can I say? There was even an incident at UFC Fight Night: Henderson vs. Khabilov where a fighter named Jason High shoved a referee after his fight was “stopped too soon”. Mr. High was cut from the UFC shortly after.
Despite all of these negativities, I still find MMA to be fascinating, which is probably why I continue to have dreams about doing MMA about as often as I have dreams about going to school. In my own subconscious, I’ve had matches with the best of every weight division. I up-kicked my way to a KO victory against Chael Sonnen, I right hooked Pat Barry into dreamland, I called out Matt Mitrione after another triumphant victory, and I even locked Nate Diaz in a kimura and made him tap out. If I insinuated that these claims were true, people would say, “In your dreams!” And they’d be right too, because these exciting MMA moments only happened in my dreams.
Truth is, if I actually tried the intense exercise regimen these fighters go through day in and day out with my clunky body, I’d pass out within seconds. My greatest claim to athletic fame is walking to the grocery store every morning to buy either a pound of popcorn chicken or three one-liter bottles of Diet Mountain Dew. Whenever I’m not “training like a champ”, I’m usually eating an oversized meal at McDonald’s or Wendy’s, usually consisting of 20 chicken tenders, the biggest burger they have (without the bun), and a large unsweetened iced tea. Not exactly the athletic lifestyle a typical MMA fighter leads.
Deep down in my subconscious, I know even though I don’t train like an athlete, the thrill of having a long winning streak and being cheered on my thousands of fans is exciting. The fight itself would be even more exciting, provided I wasn’t in the cage with a “grinder”. Perhaps these MMA dreams are a manifestation of my need for excitement.
Given the limited resources I have at my disposal, I have only a few ideas of what would constitute excitement. Writing is always an adrenaline thrill I love, especially if there’s a fight going on in my stories. Going to see an action movie at Regal Cinemas is exciting as well, my most recent one being Godzilla. If I didn’t want to go out in public, I could just rent a movie on my Roku, this time my most recent viewing adventure being the first “How To Train Your Dragon”. If I’m feeling particularly frisky, I could read “A Million Little Pieces” by James Frey, which is both depressing and exciting at the same time.
The activities mentioned above are just temporary fixes, though. Once I do them, they’re done forever. I know, I know, there will always be books to read, movies to watch, and stories to write, but that doesn’t mean I’m getting a permanent high from these things. There’s too much of a wide gap of boredom in between activities. If I can find a way to shorten the gaps without turning my mind into a melting puddle of exhaustion, that would be excellent.
The sleeping dreams and waking fantasies I have just might be the answer I need for filling the boredom gaps. Thinking is the best way to travel and who travels more than an MMA fighter? I could go to Brazil from my beddy-bye and elbow my way into a Performance of the Night award. I could go to Chicago from my treks to the grocery store and guillotine choke my way to my 15th victory. And as long as we’re talking about Chicago, I could get a slice of deep dish pizza after I’m done cutting weight.
I just thought of another reason not to do MMA in real life: cutting weight. I have a hard enough time losing weight and staying away from fatty foods. If all the water was drained from my body, I still wouldn’t make the 265 lb. heavyweight limit. That, and my opponent would be awarded a KO victory automatically after I pass out on the scale. I can still dream, right? I can still exercise my subconscious creativity and make some kick-ass stories out of it, right? You’re damn right I can!
***LYRICS OF THE DAY***
“Geezers need excitement. If their lives don’t provide them this, they’ll incite violence. Commonsense. Simple commonsense.”
-The Streets rapping “Geezers Need Excitement”-
Q: Describe your desk.
A: It’s a hand-me-down from my older brother and has been in my possession since 2008. I have to be careful with it because it’s small and shakes easily. The upper tier has my computer screen, pencils, flash drives, and tissues on it. The middle tier holds my fan, house phone, speakers, tape player, keyboard, and sometimes a bottle of Diet Mountain Dew. The bottom tier is where my computer tower, printer, and power strips are located. In addition to writing stories and poetry, my rickety desk has also been used to draw some…interesting pictures.
Q: Where did you grow up, and how did this influence your writing?
A: I’ve lived in many places over the course of my childhood, but the one place where reality hit me the hardest was when I was going to high school in Chehalis, Washington. My freshman year was best known for the verbal bullying I have endured and almost committed suicide over. Due to the crippling PTSD (and eventual schizophrenia) I’ve suffered, most of my writing is influenced by dark and disturbing themes such as death, bullying, mental sickness, sex, and violence. I do have lighthearted stories in my archives, but I will always be known as an R-rated author.
Q: When did you first start writing?
A: I’ve been writing all of my life, but the time when I started taking it seriously was January of 2002. My first writing project was a videogame idea called Final Fantasy Hardcore. It had the same magical premise and romantic leanings as the games in the Final Fantasy series, but it was set in a dystopian future and had tons of mature content. My two favorite characters from this series are a charismatic barbarian named Deus Shadowheart and a perverted scientist named Dr. Scott Cain. Ever since scrapping Final Fantasy Hardcore, I’ve been trying to find a story for those two to be a part of. I think I’ve finally nailed it with a dark fantasy novel I’m currently writing called “Fireball Nightmare”.
Q: What’s the story behind your latest book?
A: My most recently published e-book as of now is American Darkness, which isn’t really a novel, but a collection of emotional short stories in a contemporary setting. There are 22 different stories jammed in this anthology, but the pride and joy of this series is one called “Another Brick in the Wall”, which obviously takes its name from the Pink Floyd songs. It is a classic verbal confrontation between a strict US History teacher named Sid McDonnell and a stressed out student named Sam Keith. This is a scenario I have always fantasized about, especially considering I had some rather unsavory teachers in high school and college who deserved a tongue-lashing.
Q: What motivated you to become an indie author?
A: My circumstances were the reason I chose self-publishing over traditional. I live in a town called Port Orchard, where young adult writers don’t have an outlet for their creativity. If I wanted to go somewhere to fulfill that need, it would have to be either Seattle, Bellingham, or Tacoma, all three of which are big cities that are too hard to get to. I don’t have a car or a driver’s license, so I have to depend on others for transportation. The people in my family who have driver’s licenses have schedules of their own and can’t ferry me to the big cities on a daily basis. Instead of stressing myself out by traveling to the big cities, I choose to use the internet to make my presence known. I have a lot of work to do in order to market myself, but I wouldn’t have self-published if I didn’t believe I could do it.
Q: How has Smash Words contributed to your success?
A: I haven’t sold very many e-books yet, but when the money starts rolling in, it will be because I chose Smash Words. Simply having a place where my writing can be immortalized is good enough for me. I write regularly on Deviant Art, Good Reads, Blogger, and Face Book. Smash Words is different from these places because it gives me a platform to organize my writing into a tangible product instead of just bits and pieces. Sometimes people need to see the bigger picture in order to make a decision about whether to be a member of an author’s audience.
Q: What is the greatest joy of writing for you?
A: Exercising my creativity is always a fun part of the business, but my favorite part comes from the feeling of accomplishment I get after I write something. I have taken something from my screwed up psyche and made something beautiful out of it. I liken this to the scene in the musical Pink Floyd the Wall where the main character smashes his hotel room in a fit of rage and afterwards makes a piece of art out of the remains. It’s a creepy way to think of my accomplishments, but then again, lots of creepy things go on in my mind.
Q: What do your fans mean to you?
A: My fans mean everything to me. Every time they give me a compliment or critique on my writing, it helps me become a better writer. Even if it’s a short compliment like “very well-written”, it’s enough to boost my confidence to continue putting myself out there. I’m shy at first, but when I begin to get comfortable with a group of people, we do so much for each other.
Q: What are you working on next?
A: It’s a dark fantasy novel called Fireball Nightmare. The first act, which is known as This Is Violence, deals with a forest-dwelling barbarian named Deus Shadowheart who will go to extreme means to protect his home from city developers. The main reason he does this is because he is a servant of the volcanic mountain god Vahd, who will erupt into apocalyptic fire if his forest is destroyed. The second act is called Valley of the Damned, but I won’t get into it right now because too much of the plot will have been revealed.
Q: Who are your favorite authors?
A: This is going to sound ironic coming from a lifelong writer, but I didn’t actually become a bookworm until 2009 when I picked up a copy of The Cleaner by Brett Battles. The books I read in college were slow-paced and dull while The Cleaner was exciting and quick. It’s because of this drastic change in pace that Brett Battles will always be my favorite author. Others include fellow introvert Susan Cain, Sherman Alexie, Carl Hiaasen, and Stephen Chbosky. Realistically, I’ll give my patronage to any author who can dictate a fast pace with his or her writing. Bonus points to go to any author who can almost bring me to tears. I haven’t cried since 2007, but I came very close to doing so with many of the authors I’ve read books from, particularly Stephen Chbosky.
Q: What inspires you to get out of bed each day?
A: To be honest, I don’t have much of a professional or social life in my small town of Port Orchard, Washington. To put it bluntly, I’m unemployed and have very few friends. I don’t have much of a reason to get out of bed every day, so the closest thing to inspiration I have is walking to the grocery store to get three giant bottles of Diet Mountain Dew. Walking is a fun exercise that helps me clear my mind, but more importantly, it’s an opportunity to rock out to heavy metal music on my MP3 player.
Of all the things I’ve written back in the early days of my writing career, the one series I’m most ashamed of is Satire of Ruin. If you’ve known me since 2004, you’ve seen this series of movie scripts posted on my Deviant Art account and my old website Macaroni & Ownage Productions.
It revolves around an aspiring screenwriter named Julian Kane who lashes out against everybody who criticizes his work. Sometimes it’s just a screaming fit, other times he actually beats people up. Naturally, Mr. Kane needed somebody to keep his aggression under control. That person is none other than the subject of this blog post, a former detective turned filmmaker, Merrill Cody.
Now that I look back on this little series of mine known as Satire of Ruin, I can appreciate the patience that Merrill had for his pupil Julian. In order to be around an explosive personality such as Julian, Merrill needed to have the patience of a saint. Patience doesn’t come easily for someone who used to make a living by solving crimes and putting crooks behind bars.
Julian might even be a crook for the things he did in my movie scripts. Even though Merrill didn’t necessarily have a badge anymore, he could just as easily take down Julian and make a citizen’s arrest. Merrill didn’t do that. Instead, he gave his pupil some advice when the latter was traumatized from a bout of prison rape: go to India and mediate with the monks. This would either prove to be useful advice or it would be Merrill’s way of saying to Julian, “I’m done with you, you’re someone else’s problem now.” I guess even saintly ex-cops can run out of patience eventually.
So what does Merrill Cody do now? Does he take on another pupil or does he continue his film career alone? The man had his trust broken by a rage-a-holic who can’t take criticism worth a damn. He’s not even sure if he can trust his actors and actresses to put on a good show for his audience. Even the dude who holds the shotgun microphone can be a little suspicious at times.
Is it time to finally retire this character and let him live on the beach for the rest of his life? Or does he have one last burning spark of trust within him to take on another pupil for his filmmaking ventures? Or maybe he’s so bitter by being betrayed that he’ll go back to being a cop just for the sake of putting assholes in jail.
No matter what path I choose for Merrill Cody to take, I hope he can be as wise as his age suggests. I wrote the final installment of Satire of Ruin in 2006, which made me a 21-year-old at the time. I’m well beyond that age now and have a much different worldview. Can I give Merrill Cody one more chance at the spotlight? Can I give any of my Satire of Ruin characters one more chance or are they all beyond redemption? Only time will tell.
***LYRICS OF THE DAY***
“You’re like a high school dropout: no class.”
-Fort Minor rapping “High Road”-
