Crossfade vs. The Amazing Yen from Ocean's Eleven

 

All joking aside, it's great to see Crossfade back on the road again. I missed them.

Maynard James Keenan from Tool

 

Dear Aunt Ruth 2023

Dear Aunt Ruth,

 

Thank you so much for the $20 check you sent me for my birthday. A little extra money will always be helpful to me. My kitty girl Piper had to go to the vet and the bill took a lot out of me. But she’s very much worth every penny. I love petting her and listening to her purr while she rubs her head against me. I hope to keep her for a long, long time even though she’s in her elder years now. She’s my little grandma kitty!

 

In a year full of creative burnout and generally low productivity, I did manage to find some silver linings in the first half of 2023. One of them was a rock concert in Seattle put on by Nothing More with Crown the Empire and Thousand Below opening for them. I had no idea who the openers were prior to going, but they delivered when it came to putting on a damn good show. I hope to own their entire discographies someday. Nothing More (yes, that is their band name) brought out the big guns with their energetic performances and emotional brand of rock and roll. They even have a machine made out of auto parts called the Scorpion Tail, which is used to create electronic sounds and basically give the lead singer something to go crazy on. This was my third time seeing Nothing More, with the previous two times being when they opened for Papa Roach in 2018 and opened for Ghost in 2019. Now that they had the stage all to themselves, they proved why they deserved to be headliners for many years to come. The fact that Nothing More has so little exposure just makes them criminally underrated. Anyone who likes heavy rock and roll should give them a listen. They won’t regret it.

 

But of course, not all of my silver linings can be about going out in public and mingling with strangers. Sometimes my introversion takes over and I need a good book to read. One of those good books was a collection of poetry and photography by Rachel Oates called “Reflections on Healing”. If you don’t know who she is, she’s a British Youtuber who make video essays about feminism, left-wing politics, atheism, and sometimes book reviews. She also occasionally shows off pictures of her Staffy dog Kyra, who has these saggy jowls and a permanently happy face. As good as Rachel’s poetry is in her book, the subject matter was incredibly heavy as it dealt with topics like psychological trauma, domestic violence, and growing up poor to name a few. But even with these difficult parts of her past, Rachel Oates has grown up to be a loving and kind human being, forever breaking the cycle of all the evil things that have happened to her. We celebrate cycle-breakers in this family, so her book gets five stars out of five, no question about it. Because the book contains poetry and it’s less than a hundred pages long, the reading experience goes by quickly, but the emotional connection stays with you forever.

 

Another book I read over the summer was a graphic novel called “Ghostbusters: Spectral Shenanigans, Vol. 1”. If you’ve ever watched a Ghostbusters movie before, then you know what you’re going to get out of this book: smart-ass characters, paranormal goodness, and a nice combination of comedy and drama. What fascinates me a lot about the Ghostbusters franchise as a whole is the names of the lead characters: Peter Venkmann, Ray Stantz, Egon Spengler, and Winston Zeddemore. I don’t know how the creators of the franchise came up with these names, but the style is definitely something you associate with Ghostbusters. Same thing when the 2016 all-female movie came out and had characters named Erin Gilbert, Abby Yates, Jillian Holtzmann, and Patty Tolan. Yep, those sound like Ghostbuster names to me. As an author myself, character names are interesting to me. I sure as hell won’t have any of my fictional characters be named John Smith or Jack Anderson. Boring! Anyways, before I get lost in my tangent, the graphic novel gets an easy five stars out of five. It was good, simple fun that didn’t appear to have any major flaws that I’m aware of. Sometimes that’s all a book has to be: good, simple fun.

 

The progress on my own writing has been slow due to constant burnout, but then again, resting up is just as important as the work itself. That’s something I have to constantly remind myself every time I feel like beating myself up. I’ve often referred to the 2020’s as the Golden Age of Tiredness, because everybody’s feeling exhausted due to one thing or another. We’ll get through this together. We’ll have up days and down days, but the exhaustion isn’t permanent no matter how many times it feels that way. I’ll have my day of victory, even if it’s not today or tomorrow. That $20 check will go a long way in making sure that happens. Thank you, Aunt Ruth. Thank you so much!

 

 

Love,

Garrison

I Left My Spoons in Kitsap County

CHORUS

I left my heart in San Francisco

I left my wallet in El Segundo

I left my spoons in Kitsap County

Goddamn, I’m all over the place

VERSE 1

I can trim your hedges, wash your dishes

Do your laundry, cook your fishes

But the minute I turn on my computer

I get back in bed to be a snoozer

They call it Spoon Theory, I believe it

My silverware drawer makes me want to sleep in

More forks and knives in my sensitive skin

Than a sewing cushion that’s covered in pins

CHORUS

I left my heart in San Francisco

I left my wallet in El Segundo

I left my spoons in Kitsap County

Goddamn, I’m all over the place

VERSE 2

Going to war inside my fucked up head

Leaves me wanting the comfort of my bed

Ain’t no peace treaty being signed today

So I take my forks and knives every which way

I went to a rock concert looking like hell

Zoning in and out, but no one could tell

Yet it feels like I’m under a magnifying glass

Eat a bag of popcorn to fatten my ass

CHORUS

I left my heart in San Francisco

I left my wallet in El Segundo

I left my spoons in Kitsap County

Goddamn, I’m all over the place

VERSE 3

I left the venue feeling like Superman

Alive with zeal just like an uber fan

But the real world smacked me in the balls

It was back to the grind and the faceplant fall

I left my spoons in Kitsap County

Every bigot and troll wants to collect my bounty

My own cutlery drawer wants to cut me to pieces

Until the day my heartbeat finally ceases

EXTENDED CHORUS

I left my heart in San Francisco

I left my wallet in El Segundo

I left my spoons in Kitsap County

Goddamn, I’m all over the place

I left my money in Seattle

I left my body somewhere in Tacoma

I left my spoons in Kitsap County

Where the fuck did they go?

Nothing More

Last night, I went to Seattle’s Neptune Theater to see Nothing More in concert with Crown the Empire and Thousand Below opening for them. I hadn’t heard the openers prior to that night, but I wouldn’t mind owning every CD they’ve got. They were energetic, they were badass, and they very much deserved to share a stage with Nothing More. Speaking of which, Nothing More put on a kick-ass show just like I expected them to. I blew my vocal cords out screaming along with “Go to War” and “Turn It Up Like”. I’ll always get a kick out of Jonny Hawkins using the Scorpion Tail machine to enhance the sound and just generally go nuts with it. Going nuts is the only way Nothing More does things, especially during the song “This Is the Time” and Jonny’s subsequent drumming afterwards. All in all, I’m glad I went to the concert, sore back and legs be damned. At the same time, I couldn’t wait to get home so that I could chug an entire pitcher of iced tea to soothe my throat. On a side note, I appreciate the fact that the Neptune Theater has an ocean mythology gimmick in its designs, with the tridents on the doors, the merfolk art on the stained glass windows, and so much more. I think concert venues in general should have creative gimmicks more often. I wouldn’t mind going to a place called the Barbarian Amphitheater if somebody built it. That would be the perfect venue for Jonny Hawkins to use the Scorpion Tail! But I’m getting ahead of myself…

Incubus Concert

 Well…last night I went to see Incubus at the White River Amphitheater. There weren’t as many Kyles and Codys here as there were at the Five Finger Death Punch concert two weeks before. No Monster Energy Giga-Chad vibes here, just the sweetness of Incubus’s brand of rock and roll. They played a lot of songs from Morning View, which is understandable considering how almost perfect that album is. Songs like “Megalomaniac” and “Sick Sad Little World” will always get a rise out of me. But the one song that I was waiting all night for was “The Warmth”, which I’ve often used as an anthem for healing from my mental illnesses. “Don’t let the world bring you down. Not everyone here is that fucked up and cold. Remember why you came and while you’re alive, experience the warmth before you grow old.” Poetry. Absolute fucking poetry. There wasn’t a bad song on that whole show, and that goes for the openers as well. Sublime will never fully replace Bradley Nowell, may he rest in peace, but Roman Ramirez definitely helped take them into a new direction. He’s younger than me, so he’s got his whole life ahead of him. The other openers were The Aquadolls and The Naked Giants, both of which made instant believers out of me despite never hearing their music before that night. This was only my second concert since the pandemic and I’m glad I got to go out in public for my dose of serotonin. Up next: Roger Waters at the Tacoma Dome, which takes place on the 17th of September. He’s going to debut a new song called “The Bar”, which I’m excited for.

My First Post-Pandemic Concert...

Well…for my first concert since the pandemic, I chose to see Five Finger Death Punch. Opening for them were Megadeth, The Hu, and Fire From the Gods. The openers were badass as to be expected. The crowd, myself included, were REALLY riled up when 5FDP did their set. My voice got scratchy as fuck after screaming the lyrics to “Burn Motherfucker” and “Jekyll and Hyde”. All this travel anxiety I had the night before was for nothing since getting to and from the venue was easy-breezy. One last note: I never actually socialized with anybody there, but if I had to take a guess at their names, there would be fifteen Kyles, twenty Codys, and at least one guy named Todd. The numbers could be slightly off, but the names are probably accurate. It was a fun night overall. I’d do it all again in a heartbeat! Unfortunately, I don’t have any physical evidence of me being there since the pictures I took were blurry as fuck. That’s a shame.

Captain Brock

VERSE 1

He’s never had a cigarette a day in his life

But he smoked a whole football team in just one night

He’s the Captain of the Cougars, the team and the ladies

And every cheerleader wants to be his only sugar baby

Every freshman is trapped in their own school locker

He put them there and tape gagged the shit-talkers

He’s got an A in everything without lifting a finger

When it’s baseball or babes, he’s a home run swinger

CHORUS 1

His name is Captain Brock because of course it is

He’s the King of the Straights, the King of the Cis

But if he’s the King, then who’s the Queen?

Homecoming, no-homo is what he means

VERSE 2

He’s got bullycide and beef on his inflated resume

The boss man looked at him and said, “No way!”

So he sued the company for everything they’re worth

Wiped their NASDAQ symbol right off the earth

What’s next for Brock: President or Dictator?

He could stuff the lockers full of more freshman haters

Except they’re not called lockers after school

They’re called prison cells under the iron rule

CHORUS 1

His name is Captain Brock because of course it is

He’s the King of the Straights, the King of the Cis

But if he’s the King, then who’s the Queen?

Homecoming, no-homo is what he means

VERSE 3

And then the day came where karma fucked him over

His cancer just ensured that he never saw October

They buried his ass on Halloween night

All the beardos and weirdoes breathed a huge sigh

They can disco dance with the werewolves and vamps

At a Rammstein concert with ball gags and loud amps

The harvest moon never looked so beautiful

Keep the good memories, they’re forever reusable

CHORUS 2

His name is Captain Brock because of course it is

But you’d be forgiven if you forgot about his sins

Are you coping with trauma or was he just mediocre?

It’s a little bit of both, aren’t you glad this shit is over?

Cookie-cutter muscle-heads may write our history

But they don’t have a future with you or me

They can’t blame it all on the myth of Cancel Culture

They can blame themselves for being greedy vultures

3:16

The Death Marshal watched over the Black Widow Amphitheater with an omniscient presence, smiling a razor-toothed smile from the hells below. This afternoon Marilyn Manson concert ran as smoothly as venom through a cobra’s victim. The band was onstage bouncing around to the tune of “Irresponsible Hate Anthem”.

The concertgoers below the stage shoved and slammed into each other in a circle pit that could knock over the heaviest of hitters. The scent of alcohol was seductive to Death Marshal’s nostrils. One lady in the pit removed her Stone Cold Steve Austin T-shirt and threw it to the ground in a heavy metal rage. The energy in this outdoor arena lit the Death Marshal’s soul on fire. The god was pleased.

But of course, nothing could be perfect forever. One bad apple always had to ruin the entire bunch. Outside the cemetery-like gates of the spider-shaped arena stood a red-dressed, purple-haired woman with a crucifix around her neck and a sign in her hand that read, “You Must Be Born Again!” She shouted at Manson fans passing through the gates in a shrieking voice that could sell her own metal albums if she so chose. They either ignored her or flipped her the bird on their way in.

“It’s not too late to save your souls!” the woman belted, pointing an elongated fingernail at passersby. “Leave this place and come to church with me! We can go to heaven together! We can experience Jesus’s love for all eternity! You don’t have to burn in hell! Let us pray together! Let’s fight the devil and push his wicked energy out of our souls! We can be pure again! You must be reborn!”

The Death Marshal couldn’t possibly understand why this woman hated everything about this arena so much. Was it the tarantula-shaped structure with the eight legs acting as tunnels to the bleachers and pit? The event staff wearing black hooded robes and steel horns? The red and orange fogged lighting that illuminated the rows and stage? The white makeup and black clothing the concertgoers were proudly wearing? The LGBT flag that someone was waving at the back of the bleachers? The gargoyle statues? The blood-soaked walls? The skulls dangling from the ceiling? The bronze statue of Death Marshal taking up the middle of the seating area?

The screaming continued despite the many middle fingers the zealot received. “Don’t you walk away from me! Don’t you turn your backs on Jesus Christ! He has sent me to punish you all for your sins! This is devil music and it must be stopped! And I am the only one who has the power to stop it! Remember the name of JoJo Tornado, your new savior and hero!”

The passersby suddenly erupted in a fit of laughter. Death Marshal couldn’t help but crack a smile and hee-haw like a demon either. All of this fanatical rhetoric, all of these mystical threats were coming from a woman named…JoJo Tornado. Many fans asked her if that was actually the name her mother gave her. Were the Tornados an extended family? Did it actually say JoJo Tornado on her driver’s license? Could she even drive without getting a DUI charge after drinking the blood of Christ? Concertgoers slapped their knees and buckled over as these thoughts circulated among them. For once, JoJo managed to be more entertaining than the concert itself, no offense to Marilyn Manson.

And then the bright sunny day turned gray and cold as soon as JoJo’s face scrunched up in anger and she threw her sign to the ground. Concertgoers who wore jorts and T-shirts to the show found themselves shivering and hugging themselves for warmth. Icy winds picked up all around the arena, so much so that the band stopped playing and looked confused. JoJo’s eyes rolled back in her head while she waved her arms around in some kind of magical dance, guiding the wind wherever she wanted it.

Hooded bouncers circled around her to try and stop this display, but the wind grew strong enough to shove them all back against the spider-legged arena tunnels. The screams of heavy metal energy turned to screams of childish terror when one of the bouncers was impaled on a stony spike, his spilling innards and shattered ribcage making this dark fantasy paradise look even more frightening.

Fans bolted for any exit they could find, resembling an animalistic stampede where concertgoers were either crushed underneath boots or picked up and slammed by the wind. Marilyn Manson and his group were long gone by then. Anybody who wanted to follow suit in their cars were shit out of luck as the wind picked up vehicles and smashed them into concertgoers and bouncers alike. The concessions stand, which looked like a stony apothecary’s hut, shattered into pebbles at the drop of an SUV, spraying a fountain of beer in the air.

Somewhere during this mad dash towards higher ground, somewhere in this sea of blood, guts, and bones, a stage prop was blown off its hinges and launched like a javelin through the heart of the Death Marshal statue, knocking it over and desecrating the one true guardian of this sacred arena.

Suddenly, the dashing stopped. Horrified looks turned to pity and rage. Concertgoers and bouncers stood still in awe of the act of blasphemy committed against the Death Marshal statue. Marilyn Manson and his band returned to the stage and glared daggers at JoJo Tornado, who in turn looked muddled by this lack of chaos she worked so hard to create. “Does this mean…you all are ready to repent? Will you come with me to the gates of heaven?” She held out her hand in a loving gesture, but nobody would take it.

They were too busy staring at the green smoke that erupted from the hole where Death Marshal’s statue used to be. The statue was supposed to be a seal for the guardian beast. It was supposed to be his sleeping grounds. The god of the arena was supposed to be a mere spectator. But he was wide awake now. A slimy brown hand gripped the ledge of the hole and then another hand followed suit. With one growling jerk, Death Marshal pulled himself out of the pit for all of his followers to see.

There he was. A giant among men. A slime-and-dirt-covered creature wrapped in mummy bandages. A foul-smelling demon whose odor would be enough of a reason to seal him away in the first place. No lips have touched his face. No eyes wanted these permanent stains. No hands wanted his corrosive feel. He looked like the devil himself and it was a label he embraced to the fullest.

“So…this is what Satan looks like,” said JoJo, determined as ever to keep the chaos going. “This is what dark seduction feels like. You all worship this false idol? You dare use the lord’s name in vain for this prophet? Then I know how what I must do. I must exorcise this beast once and for all!”

Death Marshal’s murky boots slapped against the stone ground as he rushed towards JoJo with his arms outstretched, like he wanted to wrap his mile-long digits around her pencil neck. But the wind held him in place. The dark clouds opened up and unleashed another gust of holy energy. Death Marshal threw punches and braced himself against the aeromancy, but it was no use. Even a creature with his godly strength succumbed to getting bounced off the edge of the stage and nearly knocked unconscious. His omnipresent vision faded in and out of blackness. He really was about to meet God, albeit in a puddle of his own necromantic sludge.

“Is that all you’ve got?” asked JoJo. “Is this finally proof that God’s will conquers all? Ha! Too easy!”

Pain shot through Death Marshal’s nearly cracked spine as he crawled across the ground, dragging pieces of sloppy flesh and chipped bones across the stony surface. He reached out for something. What was it? A fan’s ankle? An angel’s hand? The devil’s weapons? No. It was the Stone Cold Steve Austin T-shirt the female fan threw on the ground earlier. That fan now had an SUV crushing her bones, but her spirit lived on…as did the spirit of the Texas Rattlesnake himself. A demonic mouth opened up in Death Marshal’s palm and it consumed the woman’s T-shirt, both making JoJo shiver in disgust and the concertgoers and bouncers watch in awe and wonder.

With bones creaking and mummy wrapping tearing, Death Marshal staggered to his feet and gazed at his surroundings with blurry vision. And then he remembered why his vision was so blurry. Not because of the force of the wind slamming him against the stage. But because…he was drunk. The Budweiser flowing through his veins ignited his soul. The fans in attendance suddenly believed in their hero again with chants of “Austin! Austin! Austin! Austin!”

And then, with a stomp of his foot and a thrash of his arms, Death Marshal shouted in a familiar southern accent, “Austin 3:16 says I just whipped your ass!” The fans cheered their heads off and the band couldn’t help but smile a little bit.

JoJo Tornado scowled at her opponent and said, “Such fowl language will not be tolerated in the house of the lord! Take THAT!” She blew a gust of wind at Death Marshal and sent him flying over to the shattered beer stand. But instead of cracking his skull against the ground, he grabbed onto the beer hose and started drinking out of it like he was dying of thirst in a desert country.

After releasing a toxic burp that contributed to global warming, Death Marshal aimed the hose at JoJo and splashed her with a stream of beer. She was knocked over on her ass and scrambled to get back up, but couldn’t. The beer spray was too powerful for her, not unlike her wind magic. She even rolled backwards several feet and got some of it in her mouth. The beer stream couldn’t last forever, but it didn’t matter anymore. JoJo was soaked head to toe in alcohol. Her dress nearly fell off several times. And everyone cheered all around her.

Death Marshal stomped over to his drunken opponent, the fans parting like the Red Sea. JoJo struggled to stay on her feet despite nothing spraying her anymore. She burped, slurred her words, and actually made more sense than when she was picketing outside the gates. In that familiar southern accent, the mummy guardian said, “Don’t take this ass-whopping personally, son!” Two middle fingers later, he kicked her in the stomach and smashed her jaw over his shoulders as he dropped on his ass, or as the WWE would call it, a Stone Cold Stunner.

As fans cheered and roared all around him, Death Marshal held two middle fingers to the sky and rattled his head like the badass he was. Some of the crowd threw him cans of beer and he chugged them down within seconds, swimming in a sea of drunkenness. After another burp that rocked the arena, he said, “If you want to see me set this bitch on fire and send her straight to hell, give me a hell yeah!”

“HELL YEAH!” echoed the fans.

Death Marshal grabbed hold of JoJo’s ankle and dragged the dizzy and confused zealot back to the hole in the ground where he came from. The statue was busted. The magic was exposed. This venue probably wouldn’t make money again given the reckless nature of what happened today. But at least he could get all the sleep he wanted. As a final gesture of goodwill to their dark fantasy guardian, one of the fans slowly raised his hands in the air like another familiar WWE wrestler and threw them down on cue with flames bursting from the hole in the ground. In response, Death Marshal burped and threw the slime-covered T-shirt back up to the surface.

The magic was gone and soon everyone realized just how fucked up all of this was. Many fans and bouncers were still dead, vehicles were smashed every which way, stage and arena props were strewn all about. Not even the all mighty Death Marshal could bring them all back together. This sucked. This sucked badly. A heavy metal concert had turned into a day of trauma and death for those who just wanted a good time. Religious wars never did anybody any good. Two deities waged war and it was the public who paid the price. Marilyn Manson’s lyrics knew all about this phenomenon, oddly enough.

Come With Me

Grayson Joseph scanned his ticket at the arena entrance and felt everything as soon as he entered. Every drunken laugh. Every aggressive conversation. Every playful shove. While none of these actions were directed towards him, they all rented space in his mind, swirling in his nervous system at a million miles an hour. He tucked his head as he made his way to the general admission pit in a vain effort to make himself invisible. Were these people casting off their stones at him? No matter how many times Grayson told himself otherwise, his mind would feed him more lies and more psychosis.

Once he found his position in the pit, Grayson kept his head tucked and his eyes averted. For all he knew, he could have been the most noticeable person in the crowd. His skinny build, greasy blond hair, oversized Linkin Park T-shirt, and baggy green khakis would have ordinarily helped him blend into the concert environment, but his mind shoveled more self-hatred and lies into his system. Grayson held his stomach and let out a small burp as his knees grew weaker. He wished Halestorm would just get onstage already and close out this social experiment. He sarcastically thanked his mother for the concert tickets in an effort to further kick himself for his “weakness”.

After a while of socially anxious thoughts and tingles, the lights went out in the arena and the audience cheered their heads off. They clapped, chanted, and roared in anticipation of Halestorm taking the stage. Grayson tried to let out a cheer of his own, but all that came out was a small pop in his throat. This social experiment was not working. Although, he cheered up a little when Lzzy Hale and company took center stage. The band greeted their audience with one of their classics, “American Boys”.

The shredding guitars and Lzzy’s raucous voice helped put Grayson at ease. He found himself bouncing his head up and down to the tune. He relaxed some more and bounced around harder. The more he enjoyed himself, the less judgmental he found the eyes of his fellow audience members. He could take on the world. He could take on an army of moshers. The demons of hell could drag him to the underworld and he’d still be having a night of fun.

But that was only because his confidence went largely unchallenged. The intense fright jolted his system once again when a soft, long-nailed hand brushed across his shoulders. Grayson soon found his hands tenderly gripped by those of an attractive female, dressed in her heavy metal best with the black leather skirt, gothic boots, and pink halter top. Her dyed blue hair and cherry-colored lips completed her seductive look. Grayson didn’t know whether to admire this woman’s beauty or be terrified of her, so he silently took both roads.

The temptress danced in Grayson’s arms, twirling around, dipping backwards, swinging to the left, and swinging to the right. He didn’t reciprocate one single dance move, instead opting to freeze in fear despite the woman’s coaxing. She danced with him some more and Grayson had a knot in his intestines the size of a medicine ball. He also had a tingling sensation in his penis and testicles, so he scrunched his legs together to hide a potential involuntary boner.

What started off as an innocent dance turned dirty in a swift minute when the seductress slowly grinded her butt against Grayson’s groin. His vision grew blurry as he detected several smiles and camera phones lighting up around him. He remained frozen with fear. What was he supposed to do? Was he supposed to like the attention? Was he supposed to pull away? Why him? Why not more attractive men?

As the questions pooled in his racing mind, the tingling sensation in his groin reached its fever pitch. Sticky liquids crashed against his pants and oozed down his legs, causing his dance partner to jump backwards and cover her mouth in disbelief. Grayson looked down at his pants in an effort to avoid the judgmental stares, but all he got was another reminder to do his laundry the next day. His pants were soaked in his own sexual fluids. Were the people around him laughing or was that his mind playing tricks on him? Were people recording him on their phones or were they recording Lzzy Hale? Grayson touched his pants and wiped his hands on his Linkin Park shirt. He was that drenched and that embarrassed.

“How could you?” he mouthed to the dumbfounded dance partner before running out of the arena as fast as he could. His legs were weak from the orgasm, yet they took him far out of sight. They created distance between himself and the judgmental eyes and laughing voices. He didn’t notice security personnel asking him if he was okay. His tunnel vision took him out of the arena and down the streets of Paulson City, where the ferry terminal was waiting for him.

Grayson’s lungs burned like acid. His chest and ribcage didn’t expand far enough for his comfort. His eyes grew wetter than his pants. His breath intensified into a whirlwind of exhaustion. Yet he continued to run down the street. Neither the psychotic homeless people nor the laughing street thugs could slow him down. His legs matched the speed of his racing mind. Even with his skinny body, he should have had a heart attack with the pace he was going.

When he made it to the terminal, that’s when the acidic feeling in his torso and the numbness of his mind took over. He doubled over and sucked down enough wind for a marathon sprint. His breaths were raspy and squeaky, which drew the attention of the terminal personnel right away. Did they too have judgmental eyes? Did they see him only for his messy pants and not his messy mind? Grayson took a seat at a nearby bench and huddled over to further catch his breath.

“Sir, are you okay?” said a fellow terminal worker decked out in an orange vest and blue uniform. No response. “Sir?” Grayson lifted his head. “Are you okay?”

With a shaky voice, a pink face, and teary eyes, Grayson lied when he said, “Yeah, I’m fine. I just…Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? Do you need a glass of water or anything like that? I can get you one if you want.”

“Nah, that’s okay. I’ll be alright. I swear.”

“Let me know if you need anything, okay?”

“Sure.”

As soon as the worker walked away, Grayson was truly left alone with his paranoid thoughts. The confusion between arousal and terror. The dangerous beauty. The seduction that led him to his downfall, not unlike the sirens he read about in horror and fantasy books. “Why me?” he asked himself. “Why not somebody else.” Grayson wiped away a lonely tear and for the first time noticed how badly his hands and legs were shaking. “I look awful…I am awful…”

These thoughts pounded in his head like Arejay Hale’s drum kit, a sound he couldn’t listen to ever again without being reminded of his molestation. No more Halestorm. No more rock and roll. Worst of all, no more rock concerts. “I should have just stayed home and read more fantasy novels.”

“What was that?” said a nearby worker.

“Nothing.”

Grayson spent so long in the psychotic doldrums that he just then noticed a large crowd of former concertgoers filing into the ferry station. They wore T-shirts of their favorite bands and smiles on their intimidating faces. Did these people record his humiliation and post it online? Did these people want to judge him some more? Did these people find comedy in his pain? He could feel it all as they walked past him. Some looked down at his khakis in disgust, others in pity.

A gentleman in a Metallica T-shirt and short brown hair approached Grayson and the latter could feel his stomach aching and twisting yet again. The man asked, “Do you know that chick?”

“No…I have no idea who she is.” Grayson’s eyes couldn’t even meet this stranger’s face.

“Yeah, I didn’t think so. After you ran out of the building, the security tossed her out on the streets. They weren’t having any of it. Lzzy was pissed too.”

That didn’t bring him any comfort. It just made Grayson tuck his head further into himself. “I’m so fucking embarrassed right now.”

“You’re embarrassed?”

“Yeah…I don’t even want to get on the ferry with these people…I want to go home and get changed, but…”

“Want a glass of water?”

Grayson smiled sadly and joked, “Do you have a cyanide pill I can swallow with it?”

Waving his hand, the stranger said, “Nah, don’t do that shit. It ain’t worth it. Yeah, there were some jackasses laughing, but it ain’t everyone. Come on, the ferry’s going to be here soon.”

The stranger extended his hand and Grayson allowed himself to be pulled to his feet. The latter said, “I didn’t even buy a ticket yet. I should probably do that.”

“Nah, you don’t have to buy squat. It’s Earth Day. Public transportation is free. Did you already forget today was Earth Day?”

“Trust me, I won’t be able to forget today no matter how hard I try.” The two of them boarded the ferry together amongst the crowd of metal-heads. Grayson almost thought of this kind stranger as a shield from the terrifying eyes and lit phone screens around him. “How come you’re not laughing at me right now?”

“Because that shit ain’t funny,” said the stranger. “It wasn’t funny when it happened to Chester Bennington, may he rest in peace, and it wasn’t funny when it happened to you. I see you got the shirt on. Nice! I’m Steve, by the way.”

“Grayson. Nice to meet you.”

The two of them shook hands, though Grayson worried that he got sticky stuff on Steve’s palm. Steve said, “We’re metal heads. We got to look out for each other. We’re one big family.”

“I just hope the guys on Rock Feed and Loudwire’s You Tube videos feel the same way when they see what happened to me.”

“It’s the internet. There’re going to be a few assholes here and there. But you know who’s not going to be ashamed of you? The guys in Halestorm. They don’t think that shit’s funny either.”

“That’s wonderful, but I don’t think I can listen to a Halestorm song again without thinking of…you know…” said Grayson referencing his stained trousers.

“I wouldn’t give up on rock and roll so easily if I were you. It’s brought you peace and comfort this far into your life. It might save your life again. Think about that for a minute.” Steve patted Grayson on the back before heading off to the ferry’s bathroom.

Grayson would take him up on thinking about that. He did so in a faraway corner of the ship where the shadows covered him up from the masses. “What a night,” he said as he sat down huddled over, his mind still racing. How long would it take for his mind to slow down? How many laundry cycles would it take to get the splooge out of his pants and underwear? Would the femme fatale be arrested for her actions or would Grayson become a laughing stock to the police too? The only reason his mind stopped asking so many damn questions was because he fell asleep in his chair. A temporary vacation was just what he needed. He could think about it tomorrow. But tonight, it was all over…at least for now.

Breaking Benjamin

***BREAKING BENJAMIN***

It’s been about twenty days since my last blog and at this point I’m just reaching for topics like Luke Skywalker reaching for his lost lightsaber in the heat of battle. Just like that same Jedi warrior, I used the force to come up with this next topic. And by use the force, I mean exactly that: I had to force myself to come up with this topic because nothing else of immediate importance came to mind.

This coming September, Breaking Benjamin is coming to Auburn, Washington’s White River Amphitheater to put on a fucking rock and roll show. Their opening acts in order of appearance are Diamante, Dorothy, Three Days Grace, and finally Chevelle. The only opener that I listen to on a frequent basis is Three Days Grace.

Prior to this upcoming Breaking Benjamin show, I’ve seen Three Days Grace twice in concert. The first time was in 2013 at the Showbox SoDo in Seattle, where I was introduced to their opening band at the time, Otherwise. If you follow my progress with rewriting Beautiful Monster, you’ll understand how Otherwise became as important to me as they are. The other time I’ve seen Three Days Grace live is at the Pain in the Grass festival in 2015, where they were the third to last band to appear onstage behind Lamb of God and the headliner Slipknot.

Three Days Grace has been a part of my life since 2003 when I was attending school at Olympic College. I don’t remember much of the early 2000’s due to the onset of my schizophrenia, but I’ll never forget how Three Days Grace’s music made me feel. Their song “Home” perfectly described my state of mind at the time and “I Hate Everything (About You)” could have been a descriptor for my mom’s terrible ex-boyfriend Art. Seeing Three Days Grace live twice was psychological medicine for me and seeing them a third time in 2019 will be no exception.

Breaking Benjamin is the only other band in that lineup that I listen to on a regular basis, which is why I’m going to the concert in the first place. I don’t go to concerts unless I recognize the headliner. Prior to this concert, I’ve seen Breaking Benjamin on three separate occasions. The first was in 2004 when they opened for Korn. Like I said earlier, I have minimal recollection of the early 2000’s due to my ongoing battle with schizophrenia. When Breaking Benjamin opened for Disturbed as part of the Pain in the Grass festival in 2016, my senses were wide awake. Unfortunately, that show was marred by me having to sit next to a drunken lunatic who wouldn’t leave well enough alone. That’s okay, because in 2018, Breaking Benjamin came back to that same venue with Five Finger Death Punch and Bad Wolves as their openers. Much better experience!

I didn’t fully appreciate the music of Breaking Benjamin until 2006 when I first heard “So Cold”. From there, getting hooked on the music was easy. I listened to a lot of their fourth album Dear Agony in 2009 when I was taking the bus to and from my final college class. Coincidentally, I also started listening to “Life Starts Now” by Three Days Grace. We intersect once again! Who knew two sad-ass metal bands would make the perfect soundtrack for resorting to forced extroversion in a college class environment? I still don’t understand why college classes put introverts at a disadvantage like that by having public conversations in the grading rubric. It’s almost like there’s a bias going on here.

Breaking Benjamin’s upcoming show won’t be until September 22^nd of this year, which is a country mile ahead of the current date. Like I said before, I was reaching for a topic this whole time. I don’t like going for a long time without writing a blog entry because I consider those to be just as important as my poems, short stories, and chapters of Beautiful Monster. Speaking of which…

***BEAUTIFUL MONSTER***

Chapter sixteen will feature the fruits of Windham’s traumatizing labor in action. Shadow Asylum along with King Lars Stonewall and his troops will perform a raid on Shelly Atwood’s castle in an attempt to put an end to her sex trafficking business once and for all. Windham did a phenomenal job of exposing the castle’s weaknesses in his blueprints, so this should be an open and shut case, right? Sure, you can believe that if you want. You can also believe that monkeys will come flying out of my ass. After dining on Pizza Hut food tonight, monkeys are the last thing you should worry about flying out of my ass. Hehe!

***MOVIE DIALOGUE OF THE DAY***

HUTCH MORGAN: Eat me!

PAIGE: No thanks, I’m trying to bulk up.

-Fighting With My Family-

Let's Have a Threesome

***LET’S HAVE A THREESOME***

No, I’m not talking about that kind of threesome, you perv! I’m talking about three different creative projects that are currently going on in my life. The month of August will be a busy one and quite frankly I wouldn’t have it any other way. Not only do I have a Halestorm X In This Moment concert coming up on the 17^th, but the very next day I get to see my niece Reina perform in a play like she does every summer at drama camp. On a side note, “drama camp” sounds like a place where a bunch of sad saps get together to whine about life. Oh wait, it’s not that kind of drama? Oops! Reina has her creative project for August and I’ve got mine. Let’s take a look at these three things, shall we?

***SAVAGE BEATINGS***

Every few months, Hollow Hills publishing (Marie Krepps’s business) puts out a themed anthology and this upcoming installment, called Still Standing, will focus on bullying. Proceeds from the sales of this book will go to various anti-bullying charities, though I haven’t found out which ones yet. I wanted to be a part of this project, but I didn’t have any short stories in my archives that met the six thousand word minimum. And that was when Marie gave me a brilliant idea that I will always thank her for: write a prequel to Beautiful Monster that details Windham Xavier’s first few days of training at Paladin Cross. Beautiful Monster already has the themes of bullying, so this prequel that I’ve dubbed Savage Beatings (named after Kody and Christian Savage) will touch on those same aspects. I’ve already written part one of this five piece story and I have until the end of August to complete it. Piece of cake! I’d love to share it with you guys, but as long as I’m published with Hollow Hills, I can’t publish it anywhere else and that includes social media. It makes sense from a business standpoint, so I’m not going to complain about it at all. Otherwise, I’ll have to be sent kicking and screaming to “drama camp”. Wait a minute! That’s not what it’s about! Hehe!

***BEAUTIFUL MONSTER***

Of course, Marie wouldn’t have given me the idea for Savage Beatings if I didn’t recruit her to beta-read Beautiful Monster. You know you’re a writer when the idea of receiving mountains of feedback is both exciting and terrifying at the same time. It’s exciting because Marie’s advice will no doubt bring Beautiful Monster to brand new heights. It’s terrifying because judging from her notes so far, I’ve got a lot of work ahead of me. But hey, hard work isn’t so bad, especially when I know it’s coming. Besides, Marie Krepps is an excellent beta-reader. Without her, none of my six published books would be possible. She’s thoughtful, funny as hell, and she can be these things without being judgmental towards the author. I think the latter of those three things is the most important, especially when I’ve written a novel about sensitive topics such as male rape and PTSD. Her fully detailed notes will be available to me by the 12^th of this month. One thing I already know? Tarja Rikkinen is in serious need of character rehab. She’s too manipulative to be likeable. Hell, in the fifth chapter, she openly admits to using seduction as a trust-building tactic! Holy shit!

***INCELBORDINATION***

As I’ve said before, I’m forbidden from posting Savage Beatings online. Depending on whether or not Marie wants to publish Beautiful Monster through Hollow Hills, I’ll probably have to delete the chapters from my social media accounts. But these things cannot be said about Incelbordination, which I will still work on despite the other two projects looming over me. I’m still a member of the WSS on Good Reads and I always enjoy entering their friendly short story contests. Incelbordination will be the ongoing project that gets uploaded to social media, including Good Reads. Would you like to know what chapter ten will be about? Tough shit! No spoilers for you! Hahahahahahaha!

***CONCLUSION***

One night while I was suffering from heat exhaustion, I made a list of mantras in my falling-apart Lego journal. One of them is “Kick August’s Ass”. No, I don’t personally know anybody named August or Gus, I’m talking about the month. It’s going to be a busy month and come hell or high water I’ll kick the shit out of August and walk into September smelling like roses. Waiting for me on the other side is my Dad’s birthday and the very next day after that an Evanescence X Lindsay Stirling concert at the White River Amphitheater. This would be the part of the blog where Marie tells me that she’s jealous of my concerts before calling me an affectionate insult. Hehe! I’m Garrison Kelly! Even when you feel like dying, keep climbing the mountain! Hey, those lyrics work!

***DOMESTIC DIALOGUE OF THE DAY***

SMOKEY: Raaaaawr! Raaaaaaaawr!

GARRISON: Shut up, Smokey, I’m trying to watch a video!

JAMES: But Garrison, she’s singing for you.

GARRISON: No, she’s not. She’s making loud noises.

JAMES: Is that what your favorite bands do? Smokey’s a better singer than they are.

GARRISON: That’s not true, James! It’s good music! You’re being judgmental!

JAMES: No, I’m not. I’m being honest.

GARRISON: Goddamn it, James!

Seether Concert

***SEETHER CONCERT***

Sometimes I feel like whenever I post a blog announcing my attendance at a concert, all I’m doing is stroking myself. It doesn’t help matters that I pad the text with potential ways in which these concerts could affect my creative life…even though most of the time they don’t. The last time it really did was when I went to the Pain in the Grass festival in 2016 and I wrote a heavy metal song about a drunken fool that sat next to me. Most of the time my concert experiences end up as life events on my Face Book page (now THAT’S what I call stroking myself). To be fair, though, I only post them that way because I don’t have a smart phone to take pictures and I don’t want to bring my digital camera into the mosh pit lest it gets smashed to pieces.

But it’s true, ladies and gentlemen: it’s that time again. This coming Tuesday, Seether is heading to Seattle’s Showbox SoDo and the bands that will open for them are 10 Years and The Dead Deads. I didn’t start listening to Seether until 2012 when they opened for Nickelback at the Tacoma Dome alongside Bush and My Darkest Days. The first Seether album I bought was their greatest hits collection from 2002 to 2013. My favorite songs back then were “Driven Under”, “Fine Again”, and their cover of Wham’s “Careless Whisper”. I also listened to Seether’s duet with Amy Lee called “Broken” on repeat when I came home from the movie theater after seeing Obselidia. Anyone who’s heard me talk about that movie knows it ripped my heart to shreds, so “Broken” was a more than appropriate song to soothe my feels. Seether has a reputation for soothing sorrowful and angry emotions. My collection of their CD’s is now complete and I’m ready for Tuesday.

I don’t have much else to say except for…I’m Garrison Kelly and I’ll see you next time! My brain decided to be in zombie mode today, so I don’t feel like doing a great deal of writing. On the positive side, I did get some reading done today. It won’t be long before I write a passing grade review of “Fifty Shames of Earl Grey” by Fanny Merkin (real name Andrew Shaffer). One reviewer accurately described this author as the Weird Al Yankovich of erotica. Who am I to disagree with him?

***LYRICS OF THE DAY***

“Whoever said this pain would ever go away didn’t know what it meant to be here without you. Is everything you see reminding you of me? Does it hurt when you breathe too? ‘Cause it does when I do. I hate to feel this way. My days all feel the same. And yesterday was proof that tomorrow will too. No matter what they say, can’t drink it all away, ‘cause all that I do is think about you. When anybody says your name, I want to run away. I keep remembering I can’t forget you. It doesn’t matter what I try, it happens anyways. It’s been forever and I can’t forget you. With every single day, it won’t go away, the way I feel about you. And when it’s said and done, you’re the only one. And I can’t regret you, ‘cause I can’t forget you. Stop haunting my dreams. Please set me free.”

-My Darkest Days singing “Can’t Forget You”-

Rock and Roll Will Never Die

VERSE 1

Rock and roll will never die

No sense in spreading that lie

Stop blaming my generation

For your downward destination

Any youngster can pick up an axe

Shred that shit and kick some ass

We’ve come to invoke the spirit

You’ve got no choice but to hear it

CHORUS

Rock is immortal!

Open hell’s portal!

Rock never died!

Join the dark side!

VERSE 2

I don’t judge my fellow human

By his preference of music

Only by his obnoxious hubris

Only by his points so stupid

Don’t thumb your nose at me

For the things that I believe

For the music I love so much

The bands with the Midas touch

CHORUS

Rock is immortal!

Open hell’s portal!

Rock never died!

Join the dark side!

VERSE 3

Call it devil’s music if you choose

This fiery debate is yours to lose

Thump your bible, spread the libel

Crashing and burning is your style

Blast your bullshit through a bullhorn

You’ll never settle this age old score

Guitars and drums are here to stay

Even on the holiest of sunny Sundays

EXTENDED CHORUS

Rock is immortal!

Open hell’s portal!

Rock never died!

Join the dark side!

Rock is my savior!

For my darkest anger!

Rock is my heaven!

Rock is my weapon!

Five Finger Death Punch X Breaking Benjamin Concert

***FIVE FINGER DEATH PUNCH X BREAKING BENJAMIN CONCERT***

These past few days have been so mentally exhausting that all I could do creatively was the easiest fucking thing in the world for me: write songs. I can only imagine how I’ll feel the morning after my upcoming concert Monday night. I’m headed back to the White River Amphitheater to see a show co-headlined by Five Finger Death Punch and Breaking Benjamin with Bad Wolves as the opening act. It’ll be my second time seeing FFDP, third time seeing BB, and first time seeing BW. That’s a lot of heavy goddamn metal.

I’ve been a fan of Five Finger Death Punch since 2012 when I first heard the song “The Bleeding” on Pandora Radio. At first I was tentative to buy any of their CD’s because of the bad reputation they have. And then I remembered that negativity is subjective and public opinion doesn’t mean everything. I purchased their “Way of the Fist” album and loved the shit out of the title track as well as songs like “Ashes”, “Death Before Dishonor”, and “A Place to Die”. From that first album, I was hooked and had to have their entire catalogue. In November 2016, I saw my first Five Finger Death Punch concert and I was blown the fuck away. I love how Ivan Moody (the lead singer) always invites small children onstage with him during one of the more intense songs. With bands like Death Punch, the future looks bright for the next generation of heavy metal!

I was first introduced to Breaking Benjamin when they opened for Korn in, I want to say, either 2003 or 2004. It wasn’t until a few years later that I discovered their “We Are Not Alone” album and was hooked on tracks like “So Cold”, “Breakdown”, and the beautifully peaceful “Rain”. Just like with Death Punch, I had to have Breaking Benjamin’s entire catalogue. I didn’t see them in concert again until 2016 when they opened for Disturbed at the Pain in the Grass festival. Now here we are two years later and they’re opening for another badass band.

Bad Wolves didn’t come out with their first album until earlier this year. Because they’re going to open for this show, I had to purchase the music in order to get better acquainted with it. Let’s just say it was a wise use of my debit card. My favorite song on that CD so far is “Officer Down”, a fast-paced, brutal track that sets the tone for the entire album. However, I’ll always remember them for their cover of “Zombie” by The Cranberries, which was supposed to be recorded with Dolores O’Riordan’s vocals before she died earlier this year. Now she’s smiling from heaven at the excellent work Bad Wolves did with her song.

I still have a few days before this concert at the White River Amphitheater begins, so I’m going to try and get as much creative work done as I can during the time I have left. That includes editing the shit out of Beautiful Monster and getting it ready to be critiqued at Hollow Hills independent publishing (Marie Krepps’s new business). I should have finished this a long time ago, but other creative projects and psychological exhaustion kept getting in the way (so what else is new?). I’ll get it done one of these fucking days. Just six more chapters to edit. Six more chapters!

I’ll be rocking out for each and every one of you! I’m Garrison fucking Kelly! Even when you feel like dying, keep climbing the mountain! Wait a minute, Three Days Grace lyrics in a blog entry about Five Finger Death Punch, Breaking Benjamin, and Bad Wolves? How did that happen?!

***WORD PLAY OF THE DAY***

On WWE’s NXT show, there’s a tag team consisting of Nick Miller and Shane Thorn that used to be called The Mighty Don’t Kneel. What if those two gentlemen formed a three-man group with fellow NXT wrestler Bobby Fish? They’d be called The Mighty Don’t Kneel and Bob. So much for WWE’s PG rating. Hehe!

Pop Evil and Starset

***POP EVIL AND STARSET***

Tomorrow night I’m headed over to Seattle to see a Pop Evil concert at El Corazon and the following Wednesday I’m going back to that same venue to see Starset. With only two days of recuperation in between the two shows, I’m glad I got all of my creative work done today and the night before. Chapter fourteen of Silent Warrior is live and in color while my reading commitments are all caught up. I’m definitely ready to rock out in Seattle with two of my favorite rock bands.

The first time I heard Pop Evil’s music was when they opened for Papa Roach in 2013. The second time I saw them was at the Pain in the Grass festival in 2016. If you like explosive hard rock that can occasionally dip into sensitive territory, you’ll like Pop Evil. They have five albums to their name and their most recent self-titled project came out just a week ago. I bought “War of Angels” and “Lipstick On the Mirror” for my niece Reina on her fourteenth birthday back in January and she was grateful to say the least. I’m anticipating an awesome fucking show tomorrow night!

The first time I heard Starset was in 2014 on one of the Music Choice radio stations and it was their single “My Demons”. By the time they unleashed their next single “Carnivore”, I knew I had to have their Transmissions album, which is their first CD as a band. A year ago they came out with their sophomore effort Vessels and they’ve been going strong ever since. Starset has the gimmick of being space explorers warning humanity about the demise of mankind. It’s not meant to be cute or funny; the music and gimmick are actually quite emotional and can draw in a huge crowd on any given night.

I like to jokingly refer to rock concerts as one-day vacations, which is why I list them as life events on my Face Book page. It seems like I’m stroking myself when I do that, but I really do consider these concerts to be that important to me since the bands rarely visit my home state. I don’t do this with movies or books, because I can get that kind of experience at home without making any kind of pilgrimage to a stadium. Concerts? You have to get your ass out in public for those.

But just like with any pilgrimage to the city of rock, I will return safe, sound, and in perfect condition to continue my creative endeavors. I’m not fond of memes that say writers never take vacations. While it is true that not writing for a while makes us feel homesick, getting out and experiencing life is paramount to our creativity. You can’t have one without the other. That’s what makes Silent Warrior so special to me: because some of it (not all of it) is based on true experiences I’ve had as a teenager in high school. I’m Garrison Kelly and I’ll see you next time!

***SILENT WARRIOR, CHAPTER 15***

I know one audience member in particular has been waiting patiently for a chapter told from the point of view of Mr. Simpson. Ask and you shall receive. In this chapter, the aloof history teacher barges into his daughter’s bedroom and confronts her about having sex with Scott. During this heated exchange, Adrienne (the daughter in question) exposes a secret to the reader that will give some insight into why Mr. Simpson is as insufferable as he is. What’s that secret? You’ll figure it out when the rest of the world does! No spoilers for you!

***MOVIE QUOTE OF THE DAY***

“There are a lot of fine-looking women all over the world today. They don’t all bring you lasagna at work. Most of them will just cheat on you.”

-Silent Bob from “Clerks”-

2017 In Review

***WRITING***

Earlier this year, I published a collection of fifty micro-stories in the sci-fi, fantasy, and horror genres called Poison Tongue Tales. If it wasn’t for my awesome beta reader Marie Krepps, this publication wouldn’t be possible. I know I brag about her a lot, but that’s just an illustration of how wonderful of a friend she is to me. Pointing out weaknesses and possible solutions in my stories while maintaining a silver-tongued sense of humor is a valuable skill to have. It makes the editing process virtually painless when you’re dealing with someone who knows what the fuck they’re doing. So far Poison Tongue Tales is sitting pretty at a three-star out of five rating on Good Reads and Amazon. Then again, it has only been reviewed once, so I’ve got a lot of marketing ahead of me.

Whenever I’m not standing on a street corner and shouting about my book like a madman (is that how marketing is done?), I’m usually pumping out more first drafts. In 2017 alone, I’ve written micro-stories for American Darkness 2 (contemporary) and Poison Tongue Tales 2 (sci-fi, fantasy, and horror), poetry and songs for Lunatic Justice (a future publication that’s currently being beta-read by Marie), and a psychological heavy metal fantasy novella called Demon Axe. While trying to come up with the next novel idea, I’m currently pumping out more stories for what will be American Darkness 3.

I’ve got a lot of work ahead of me, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. I love the writing business so much that I want to build my entire life around it. It may not be the most profitable venture I’ve ever embarked on, but who gives a shit? I could have just as easily obtained an engineering degree, but I’d be bored to tears at whatever job I got with it. The writing business doesn’t owe me anything. I owe the writing business everything.

***MUSIC CONCERTS***

Another thing I’m grateful for is the fact that I’ve seen five music concerts in 2017. It all began with Roger Waters at the Tacoma Dome during my birth month of June. The special effects, the poignant music, and of course, those creepy ass putty face masks, they made Roger Waters’ performance a special one. It was my fourth time seeing him live and this was easily my favorite performance of his. Just over a week later, I got to see the Pink Floyd tribute band Brit Floyd and they’re every bit as satisfying as the real deal. That’s a lot of Floyd in just a short time span. Then again, as long as someone is singing “We don’t need no education!” in my ear, I’m a happy motherfucker.

The other three concerts I went to in 2017 were spaced throughout the month of August. First on the list was Green Day at the White River Amphitheater. The second was Metallica at Century Link Field. And the third was Incubus, also at the White River Amphitheater. All three of these bands along with the openers brought their fucking A-games. I’ve never been prouder to be a metal head than in August 2017. Onstage antics, badass music, special effect gimmicks, and the sense of siblinghood I felt with the people sitting next to me at all three shows, they were worth the long rides home.

In 2018, I’ve scheduled myself for even more shows: Pop Evil and Starset in February (separate shows) and Papa Roach and Soulfly in May (also separate shows). And of course, every year at the White River Amphitheater, there’s the obligatory Pain in the Grass festival with an ass-load of bands (tickets aren’t available yet, but I’m fixing to snatch one up once the musicians are announced).

***COMEDY SHOWS***

This year has also seen a great deal of hee-haws and belly laughter, compliments of guys like Garrison Keillor, Brian Regan, Jason Mewes, and the cast of Capitol Steps. I know how bleak Garrison Keillor’s performance looks in hindsight considering he was exposed as a sexual predator in the #MeToo movement, but I went to see him long before the allegations surfaced, so I was able to enjoy a night of poetry and giggles with him.Brian Regan has been a favorite of my biological dad and brother James for a long time now. Going to see him was like a pilgrimage for them and I tagged along to get a few laughs in too. And then there was Jason Mewes’ Q&A session, where my James Bond-esque laugh got a huge pop from the crowd in attendance as well as Mr. Mewes himself. I got to meet Jason Mewes after the show and he couldn’t have been more cordial and fun to be around. To close out the giggle factory, there’s Capitol Steps, an ensemble cast of political figure impersonators who made the Donald Trump circus in 2017 bearable and laughable at the same time. In 2018, I’m planning on taking my mom with me to see Trevor Noah and Bill Maher (again, on separate shows), but I haven’t purchased the tickets yet.

***VACATIONS***

Sitting on airplanes or in cars during long trips can be summed up with the phrase “six hours of ass torture”. The vacations themselves, however, were worth the sore asses. The first vacation of 2017 was a Mexican cruise book-ended with a few days in California. I got to pet a manta ray, snuggle with a sea lion, ride a banana boat, and get my picture taken with Spiderman. The trip to Seaside, Oregon shortly after was a little more low-key with window shopping and beach strolling, but I like low-key all the same. And then I spent some time in New Orleans, where I ate pralines (and other delicious meals), bought Legos, got a table massage, and ventured onto a plantation to learn about the horrors of black slavery. Mom’s going to try and get a job as a teacher again so that we have extra income to go on more of these wonderful trips.

***CONCLUSION***

The more grateful you are for the positives in your life, the more positives you’ll have in the first place. This sounds ironic coming from a guy like me who has a permanent resting bitch face, but on the inside, I’m feeling the gratitude, which can only be described as warm and fuzzy. The year 2018 will bring good things as well if you want it to. Even if it’s something as simple as a back massage or a meal at Red Lobster, don’t take it for granted. Life is too short for constant complaining and drama. Be good to yourself in 2018. Don’t let this year of silver linings pass you by. We’ve got ears, say cheers!

***AMERICAN DARKNESS 3***

If there are two things American Darkness 3 is in no short supply of, it’s women named Vikki and women who are bound and gagged. “Duct Tape Princess” will bring you the best of both of those worlds. It goes like this:

CHARACTERS:

1.      Vikki Colt, Lounge Singer

2.      Nadia Rinehart, Street Fighter

3.      Johnny Rinehart, Nadia’s Gangster Husband

PROMPT CONFORMITY: To be announced.

SYNOPSIS: After putting on a seductive performance at a gangster bar, Vikki gets a visit in her apartment from a furious Nadia, who is convinced that Vikki was flirting with Johnny while onstage. Nadia has the fighting abilities to pummel anybody into powder, but instead she ties and gags Vikki with duct tape and holds her hostage in the apartment. The sexy songstress begins to think twice about choosing shady venues.

***DARK FANTASY WARRIORS***

Up next on the chopping block is Antonio Fujiwara, a giant ninja from a future Poison Tongue Tales 3 story called “A Bastard Sword in a Haystack”. Yes, you heard that right: a giant fucking ninja is attempting to blend in. He sticks out like a hard-on at the chalkboard, but that won’t stop him from at least attempting to find refuge in the dark forest, which happens to be full of tall trees.

***JOKE OF THE DAY***

Q: What do you call it when a fireman and a paramedic blow each other at the same time?

A: 69-1-1.

Fine

VERSE 1

Watching Metallica shredding up a storm

Having eargasms in this heavy metal porn

Flamethrowers lighting up the fucking sky

So intense in the pit, you could fucking die

A night of badass music is in the books

This thrashed up body is exactly how it looks

You could do it again until the end of days

But when asked about it, you’ll only just say…

DEADPAN CHORUS

It was fine

VERSE 2

Losing your virginity to a Hollywood babe

Porno actresses want to be your love slaves

Cumming your whole body inside out

Orgasms so intense, you can only shout

Sex forever in the sunny beach weather

Who’ll it be today, a chick named Heather?

You could do it again until the end of time

But your only response gives another rhyme:

DEADPAN CHORUS

It was fine

VERSE 3

Driving around on the lunar surface

Floating in the air never felt so perfect

Planet earth is so many miles away

Yet all you can do is fucking say…

DEADPAN CHORUS

It was fine

BRIDGE

I don’t know if it’s laziness

Or a case of mental haziness

Fine is your answer for everything

If it feels good or fucking stings

ENERGETIC CHORUS

It was fine! X4

My Feelings

***MY FEELINGS***

I got to see Jason Mewes (Jay from the View Askewniverse) perform a hilarious Q&A session the other night in Tacoma. Lots of sex jokes. Lots and lots of sex jokes. So many sex jokes that I laughed like a James Bond villain because of them (much to Jason’s delight). As much fun as I had that night and as awesome as it was to meet Jason Mewes and take pictures with him, that’s not what this journal is about (though yes, my brother and I had a great time that night).

During the car ride home, my brother James asked me a very profound question that I blew off as being asinine: “What goes through your head when you have a certain experience?” He elaborated by saying that I respond to even the most amazing things in life by saying, “It was fine” in a monotone voice. Part of his comedic rant was that I could be at the bottom of the Himalayas or having sex with a younger version of Cameron Diaz (or doing both at the same time), and all I would have to say is, “It was fine.” James then talked about the time he worked hard cooking a salmon steak with the right amount of herbs, spices, and sauces and all I said once I was done eating it was, “It was fine.”

There are many reasons why I don’t talk about my true feelings. One reason could be that it’s a male thing and since I have a penis and two testicles, I fall under that category. The other reason is that talking about my feelings leaves me exposed to whoever I’m talking to. Sure, I could just give James the proper critique for something as simple as a salmon steak, but even that moment of positivity could open the door for him or other people to ask about the darker parts of my emotions.

Talking about the darker side of my emotions isn’t easy for me because, as a schizophrenic, I have to relive those moments again and feel like shit afterwards. Living with my mom’s ex-boyfriend Art, getting bullied in high school, and being lonely at Western Washington University are all off-limits topics for me. The less I talk about dark emotions, the better I will feel mentally.

For the sake of this journal, I will talk about an emotional experience I had that was more than just “fine” or “whatever”. Consider this your one and only invite into my mind. If you see me in real life and you want to talk about it some more, forget it. Not happening. Even now, I have butterflies in my tummy, and this is just writing about it.

In 2016, I went to see Slipknot in concert for the second time in my life. One of my favorite songs that they played that evening was “Killpop”. If you Google the lyrics, you’ll see that they contain themes of psychotic love and sexual frustration (even though the song is about something completely different).

I loved this song so much that I sang along with it in my loudest, most passionate voice possible. In that moment, I could forget all about being a sexual has-been and a 30-something virgin. In my senior year of high school, I looked like a goddamn stud muffin with my leather jacket, sunglasses, thin body, and badass haircut. I had women flirting with me from all angles and even had cyber sex (yes, I know it’s just masturbating to a computer screen, but it was still enjoyable, so shut up). And then I had schizophrenia. The disease itself made me act crazy and the medication made me gain over a hundred pounds. Goodbye sexy Garrison, hello Uncle Creepy.

It seems shallow-minded to have that be a source of pain for me, especially since people are willing to give you the worldwide disaster argument over and over again (“people in Africa have it worse than you do, there are hurricanes everywhere, blah, blah, blah”). I’ve had a taste of love and I want it again, but I’m also aware that this 300 lb. body isn’t fit for such things. Therefore, when I sang “Killpop” in my most passionate voice, I could forget all of that and give a metaphorical middle finger to anybody who doubts my likeability. Ironically, when the song was over, a sexy lady in a dress and a cowgirl hat kissed the back of my hand in approval. I never got that girl’s phone number or email address, but it was probably for the best.

There you go, folks. That’s my emotional experience. Now I’m locking the doors in my mind and you’re never getting back in. If you want to know how I’m doing today, I’m doing just “fine”. Today was actually a good day for me. The past four days have been exhausting because I was angry about mopping up my dog Maggie’s shit and piss. Today I didn’t burst into a hodgepodge of swear words and I was able to use that energy to write a short story called “Witch Hunt”, read 30 pages of “Paper Towns”, and draw a picture of Fatima Ruiz (a gangster from another short story called “How Could You?”). Imagine that: fiery anger can be tiring as hell! We’ve got ears, say cheers!

***POISON TONGUE TALES 2: THE RIGHT TO REMAIN PSYCHOTIC***

As I just told you, Witch Hunt is in the books, so now it’s time for another short story. This is another old one called “Lionize” and it goes like this:

CHARACTERS:

1.      Dargoth Destroyer, Human Barbarian

2.      Zeal Cottonwood, Zombie Giant

3.      Andrea Lovell, CEO of Lionize Corporation

PROMPT CONFORMITY: To be announced.

SYNOPSIS: Andrea’s corporation specializes in deadly arena combat as public entertainment. Dargoth and Zeal are in her latest pay-per-view main event after both of them went undefeated for such a long time. All combatants who work for Andrea are locked in an ironclad contract with promises of a high payday and threats of a lawsuit if they’re in violation. Dargoth, who desperately wants to get out of his contract, attempts to assassinate Miss Lovell during his match with Zeal.

***DARK FANTASY WARRIORS***

And now that we’re on the topic of Lionize, my next Dark Fantasy Warrior will actually be a fantasy-themed fighter! Imagine that! He’s Dargoth Destroyer and he’s, you guessed it, another beefy barbarian! He won’t be a Gary-Stu, though. Maybe. I’m not sure yet.

***DOMESTIC DIALOGUE OF THE DAY***

REINA: What did you do productively today?

ME: Stuff.

REINA: What kind of stuff?

ME: Just stuff.

REINA: Garrison! That’s not a real answer!

ME: (Whiny groan.)

Thank You

CHORUS 1

Thank you for saving my loneliest life

Thank you for standing right by my side

Thank you for all of the creative fuel

Thank you for standing against the cruel

VERSE 1

Whenever the world was something to fear

I’d blast all your lyrics in both of my ears

My soul was on fire, I’d never get tired

Of all the music my bleeding heart required

I could stand up to oppressive forces

Run through them all like knights on horses

Break the walls down with the heaviest sounds

Thank you for being worthy of the crown

CHORUS 2

Thank you for giving me a reason to live

Thank you for all of the blood that you give

Thank you for taking away all of my pain

Thank you for keeping me happy and sane

VERSE 2

Don’t listen to haters, they mean you harm

They could never live up to your badass charm

Don’t listen to stalkers, they don’t know love

They’re no different from the ones who shove

Don’t listen to critics, they’re never happy

If they won the lottery, they’d still feel crappy

Listen to your heart, listen to your friends

Listen to anyone who will stay until the end

CHORUS 3

Thank you for fighting for what you believe

Thank you for never being one to deceive

Thank you for all the melodies and madness

Thank you for curing my ultimate sadness

BRIDGE

I bought your entire CD collection

They feel like an adrenaline injection

Spreading the message like an infection

Being yourself was the only intention

FINAL LINE

Thank you for everything in this world! Goodnight! Be safe!