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.

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

"The Best in the World" by Chris Jericho

BOOK TITLE: The Best in the World: At What I Have No Idea

AUTHOR: Chris Jericho (with Peter Thomas Fornatale)

YEAR: 2014

GENRE: Nonfiction

SUBGENRE: Pro-Wrestling Memoir

GRADE: Pass

Chronicling his WWE career from 2007 to 2013, Chris Jericho was the wrestling industry’s most despised villain in an era when they were in short supply. Whether he was feuding with Shawn Michaels, Rey Mysterio, Edge, or CM Punk to name a few, the WWE Universe kept their eyes glued to the TV screen and those in attendance got so aggressive that they nearly rioted. In addition to being a wrestling heel, Jericho was also the front man for the heavy metal act Fozzy and a contestant on Dancing with the Stars. No matter what he did in life, he was always the best in the world at it. Millions of Jerichoholics couldn’t all be wrong.

Watching Chris Jericho’s multiple careers unfold before my very eyes was satisfying to me as a reader. The fact that a small town boy from Canada could reach such heights of fame and fortune is inspiring to anybody who wants to follow their dreams. He’s done it all and he’s maintained friendships with some of the best in the industry, whether it’s members of his own WWE locker room, James Hetfield from Metallica, or M. Shadows from Avenged Sevenfold. All Jericho needed was a fiery passion and a tireless work ethic and he achieved everything he wanted and more. Wrestling championships, music awards, rave reviews, the accolades just kept piling on for Y2J. As a fan of his work for many years, it was an honor to live vicariously through him while reading this book.

Just like his previous two memoirs, A Lion’s Tale and Undisputed, with the help of his ghostwriter, Jericho employs a witty style when telling his life stories. If he wasn’t so busy with pro-wrestling and heavy metal, he could easily enjoy a career as a standup comedian. Hell, he already has access to Hollywood’s biggest names due to his wrestling feud with actor Mickey Rourke and his time on Dancing with the Stars, so maybe that’s something he could do when he eventually hangs up his boots. He relies on pop culture references that are accessible to pretty much any age group, so there’s no need to worry about dud jokes. I don’t want to spoil the jokes for my audience, so that’ll be even more incentive to buy this book and laugh your asses off.

If I could give one piece of criticism to this book, it’s that Chris Jericho has a habit of blowing through entire performances with just “it was a great match” (wrestling for WWE) or “it was a fun set” (touring with Fozzy). There are plenty of times when he goes into gory details such as how he lost a tooth during a ladder match with Shawn Michaels or how he injured his back during his final performance on Dancing with the Stars. However, there are also plenty of other high stakes events that I would have liked more details on. I let him get away with it since this is a celebrity memoir, but as an author myself, if I don’t point this lack of detail out, it’ll be a missed opportunity on my part. Show, don’t tell!

Don’t let that last paragraph shy you away from purchasing this book, though. Whether you’re a wrestling fan, a music fan, or just a guy who likes to watch people succeed while having a good laugh, I highly recommend this memoir from Chris Jericho. After all is said and done, you’ll only have one question: “What are the ropes made out of?!” I’m kidding, of course. Spoiler alert: they’re made out of ropes! Got that, Jon Lovitz, or do you need thirty more minutes of haranguing the WWE superstars? A passing grade will go to this fast-paced fun fest!

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!

Upcoming Concerts

***UPCOMING CONCERTS***

Instead of posting four separate blog entries detailing my upcoming concerts, I’m going to kill all four of those birds with one stone. Actually, I shouldn’t do that, because killing birds with stones is fucking cruel (even if they are woodpeckers who pound on my walls at six in the morning). As per usual, these concerts (or mini-vacations as I call them) may or may not affect my ability to compete in WSS and/or engage in other creative activities, depending on my mental energy for those free days. Then again, they’re spaced far enough apart, so it may be a non-issue. Anyways, let’s get started.

This coming Friday night, I’m headed to the Pantaegus (SP?) Theater in Tacoma with my brother James and my dad to see Brian Regan perform standup comedy. James and Dad have been huge fans of his since the late 80’s and early 90’s. I haven’t followed Brian Regan as closely as they have, but this night will be a chance for the three of us to see each other nonetheless. My visits with Dad are few and far between save for Father’s Day, his birthday, and Christmas. This will be good for all of us. I hope Brian Regan is on his A-game Friday night, because I could use a good laugh.

The following Tuesday (August 1^st), I’m headed over to the White River Amphitheater in Auburn to see Green Day in concert, with their opening act being Catfish and the Bottlemen (whoever they are). I’ve seen Green Day twice in my life, once in 2005 at the Tacoma Dome and once in 2009 at the Key Arena in Seattle. Both times they’ve invited members of the audience to come onstage to help play songs. I play the piano myself, but I don’t think Billie Joe is going to call on me to keep up with him during “The Forgotten”. It should be an awesome show like always.

On August 9^th, Metallica is coming to Seattle’s Century Link Field with Avenged Sevenfold and Gojira opening for them. I’ve never seen any of these three bands before, but I know Metallica is going to be something special due to their involvement with bringing thrash metal to life in the 80’s. My first Metallica CD was “Ride the Lightning” and I listened to that one a lot as a small child. I listened to “Load” and the black album quite a bit in my teenaged years. I purchased their other albums and played them on shuffle in preparation for the concert.

And finally, on August 19^th, Incubus is coming to the White River Amphitheater with their opening act being Jimmy Eat World. I’ve seen Incubus two times before, once in 2004 at the Key Arena and once in 2012 at the Tacoma Dome when they opened for Linkin Park (rest in peace, Chester). Incubus recently came out with their eighth album, which is appropriately titled 8, and my favorite songs from that CD are “No Fun”, “Throw Out the Map” and “When I Became a Man” (as weird as that last one is).

The fifth item on this list of shows would have been Linkin Park playing at the Key Arena in Seattle with Snoop Dogg opening for them. But as we all found out this past Thursday, Chester Bennington committed suicide by hanging at the age of 41 and left a huge hole in the hearts of his loved ones, band mates, and fans. The surviving members of Linkin Park decided to cancel the rest of their One More Light tour out of respect for Chester. I can’t stress enough how depressing this news is. Linkin Park has been a huge part of my teenaged and adult life and they’ll always have a special place in my music collection. Maybe these other bands I’m seeing will pay tribute to Chester in some way whether it’s covering a Linkin Park song or a simple shout-out. That would be a touching sentiment. 

The Dark Blade

***THE DARK BLADE***

Childhood is a time for developing one’s creativity and imagination. We buy action figures and Legos so that we can act out our own adventures. We draw pictures with our own naïve vision of what the world should be. We build things out of ordinary objects to show that there’s a world beyond their intended use. For me personally, my favorite form of creativity was coming up with ideas for videogames. One of those videogame ideas was intended to be a rival to Squaresoft’s Chrono Trigger and it was called The Dark Blade.

Chrono Trigger as a Super Nintendo game was everything a child could ask for: beautiful storytelling, emotional characters, innovative settings, and exciting game play. Who in their right mind wouldn’t want to play a game about a spiky haired teenager named Crono who travels through time in order to prevent a 1999 apocalypse using lightning magic and katana skills? Who in their prepubescent years wouldn’t have the world’s biggest crush on crossbow fighter Marle or prehistoric vixen Ayla? Who wouldn’t want to use Magus’s shadow magic or Frog’s water magic to overcome the toughest obstacles?

In my pre-teen years, I had a tall task ahead of me if I was going to formulate an RPG that would measure up to the greatness of Chrono Trigger. Therefore, I had The Dark Blade, a supremely underdeveloped story about a spiky haired teenager named David who along with his friends tries to keep the title artifact out of the hands of The Dark Sorcerer (notice the theme of darkness here?). David had the hair of Guile from Street Fighter II, a black karate outfit, ruby boots, vampire fangs (what?!), and the swords of Billy and Jimmy Lee from Double Dragon V. Oh, and he also has the lightning magic of Crono. And he starts the game by going to a carnival, just like Crono.

Being as ignorant as I was about copyright laws, I stole pieces of creative fuel from any source I could find. Princess Crystal Hershey got her last name from the chocolate bar and her outfit from Celes from Final Fantasy VI. Ninja Prince Boris Hershey got his character design from Shadow, also a Final Fantasy VI standout. Nixer (careful how you say that) is a direct rip-off of a Magic: the Gathering card that featured an old ragged man carrying a scythe. Nixer’s magical element was Aura, which is a direct theft of the Aura Bolt technique used by Sabin from Final Fantasy VI.

The Dark Blade’s soundtrack would be stolen directly from albums by The Police, The Moody Blues, Sting, and Metallica. Talk about a bunch of bands that don’t belong in the same concert! Metallica’s “Ride the Lightning” album would serve as battle music, both for normal enemies, mini-bosses, and regular bosses. The Police’s hit “Spirits in the Material World” would serve as carnival music. The Moody Blues’s song “The Voice” would serve as romantic fuel (in a time where I was too young to give a shit about love). Sting’s “Mad About You” would also serve as romantic music even though David and Crystal never officially shack up (again, because I didn’t give two shits and a flying fuck about love back then).

With all of these stolen properties, how would they mesh against the actual story? Somewhere along the way, David would use a lightsaber/baseball bat reminiscent of Star Wars and WWF Wrestlemania: The Arcade Game. He would also ride a hover cycle reminiscent of Space Quest IV. So far, so good. But then we eventually have to get to the depressive dip of the game. Turns out The Dark Sorcerer got a hold of The Dark Blade after all. With its powers, he turned the entire world’s population (except for David, Crystal, Nixer, and Boris) into stone. Turning somebody into a stone statue is straight from the Final Fantasy franchise. Having the bad guy win for a while is the same scenario that happened in Final Fantasy VI when Kefka turned The World of Balance (blue water and green pastures) into the World of Ruin (red water and wastelands).

With the innocence of a child and the creative fuel of a madman, I was sure to have my videogame idea mailed off to Sqauresoft so that they could get cracking on making it. The one thing that kept me from doing so was my brother James’s constant talk about copyright laws and what could happen if I violated them. According to him, I could have my wages garnished and my property stolen by the government. I justified my right to the profits by saying, “I could lock the doors!” Then James said that the Fire Department would come busting through to help the government take my stuff. At one point I whined, “Stop telling me these crummy facts!”, to which he said, “They’re true!”

While I didn’t want my creativity to take a backseat to copyright laws, I had no other choice as I got older and discovered how ridiculous they can be. Viacom and Disney have sued the shit out of anyone and everyone who uploaded their content onto You Tube. Disney has sued a daycare center for using Mickey Mouse decals to decorate the joint. If you want to argue lawsuits, then people these days will sue over anything, and I do mean anything. Donald Trump sued Bill Maher because the comedian said our now president was a descendant of orangutans. James Woods sued a Twitter user for saying that he was a coke head online. The more money you have, the more weight you can throw around in a courtroom. Videogame corporations have a lot of money and by proxy can throw more weight around than WWE Hall of Famers Yokozuna and Rikishi combined.

If The Dark Blade ended up becoming a novel idea in modern day Garrisonism, I suppose I could do away with all of the theft and turn it into something original and fun. People rarely play Super Nintendo games anymore (except for nostalgia purposes on ROM Emulators), so The Dark Blade would have to be a novel. David shouldn’t be such a Gary-Stu for his age, which means no vampire fangs, ruby boots, or dragon swords. Crystal and Boris shouldn’t have the last name Hershey because there have been too many jokes about skid marks over the years thanks to guys like Dave Chappelle. Nixer should have a first name that doesn’t sound like a racial slur. The Dark Sorcerer should have a real name, probably one that doesn’t have “dark” in it.

Turning this childhood videogame idea into a credible novel is a long shot, but I now have the skills and resources to do so as a 31-year-old semi-professional author. Will it rival Chrono Trigger? Ask anybody who’s ever read Occupy Wrestling and they’ll tell you “Hell no!” Then again, nothing can rival Chrono Trigger. It was a special piece of childhood heaven that can’t be taken away no matter how many game consoles 2017 can pump out. You can keep your Halos and Call of Duties and I’ll reminisce in Chrono Trigger’s beauty forever. If anything, I’m clinging to my roots so that I don’t forget how to write The Dark Blade in its truest form. One day, maybe one day David and Crono can have fantasy warfare. We’ve got ears, say cheers! By the way, in case you didn’t know, that last line was stolen from Mickey Mouse Clubhouse. I’m a bigger thief than Locke Cole from Final Fantasy VI. Damn it, I did it again!

***THE NEXT FEW DAYS***

While I’m waiting patiently for the Wrestling Observer Newsletter to come out with their 2016 awards, I’m going to have a few creative projects to occupy my time. I only have seven chapters left to read from Ashley Uzzell’s LGBT fairytale (no, that’s not a pun, shut up!) called “Once Upon a Pastry”. I’ll spend the whole day blitzing right through them and offering her my funniest and most poignant critiques. I also have a Dark Fantasy Warrior that needs drawing and his name is Lord McCain, the elf sorcerer from “Emoticon Artist”. Once I’ve officially drawn one hundred colored Dark Fantasy Warriors, I’m going to put their faces in a meme like I did with the uncolored ones. Somewhere along the way, I’ll write the shit out of Demon Axe’s twelfth chapter (don’t rush me, Writer’s Circle, I’ll get to it eventually!). Once I’m done with these tasks, I can begin work on editing the shit out of Poison Tongue Tales and getting it ready for publication. I’ve already edited the first three stories, so that’s SOME progress (again, don’t rush me, Writer’s Circle!). Once I complete these projects, then and only then can I lament not having a WWE Network subscription so that I can see this year’s Royal Rumble and see Bobby Roode win the NXT Championship from Shinsuke Nakamura at the TakeOver special before that. Wish me luck!

***TELEVISION QUOTE OF THE DAY***

DET. CLAUDETTE WYMS: Where were you last night?

SUSPECT: I was at home jerking off into a sock. You guys need the evidence?

-The Shield-

Islands

***ISLANDS***

As much as I love talking about beautiful places like Hawaii, I’m not talking about those kinds of islands tonight. The term island can also be used to refer to anybody who feels alone in the world in at least one way. For this journal, the islands I’m talking about are people who are convinced they’re the only members of a certain fan base. I’m sure we’ve all felt like islands before. We feel like we’re the only ones who listen to Seether, the only ones who watch Inuyasha, or the only ones who play with Legos despite being 40 years old. While it is true that the island mentality is only an illusion, the other members of the obscure fandom can be so far out of reach for a lot of people. It’s especially hard when the person isn’t very good at social situations to begin with.

There are times when I personally feel like an island with the things I love. I’ve yet to find other people on Good Reads who are as zealous about pro-wrestling as I am. I tried to start a Dungeons & Dragons group, but no matter where or how many times I’ve advertised, nobody joined, so I had to close it down. I’ve found a few people at the WSS who enjoy Pantera’s music, but then again, when a layman thinks of heavy metal music, they either think of Pantera or Metallica. I don’t hear a lot of chatter about Soulfly, All That Remains, Slipknot, or Lamb of God.

As a man stranded on this island of weird interests and core values, the logical solution would be to get in a rowboat and sail to faraway lands. But there are several obstacles that lie in the way. The waters are too rough to navigate without being capsized. I have no idea where the hell I’m going when I’m out there. Bringing people to my island is just as hard for them since they lack navigation and aren’t interested in being capsized either. In case you’re wondering, yes, these are analogies and no, I don’t live in Hawaii. I want to live in Hawaii someday, but today’s not the day.

But as you gain more and more interests, the lower the water becomes to expose more land. When the water sinks far down enough, you cease to become an island and you might even become a whole continent. Continents are islands by definition, but they’re much larger because they’re housing different cities and nations. When you increase the size of your land, you include more people and your cities and nations will develop beyond the third world. And though it may be hard on right-wingers in particular, you have to occasionally let some immigrants pass through your borders and spread their ideas to make the population more open-minded. Yes, I’m using analogies again, but I’m putting a lot of faith in you guys to decipher them.

To use literal terms, increasing my interests would be as simple as turning on my TV and surfing my Roku for new shows to watch. It could also mean trying out new computer games since that’s the only gaming platform I have as of today. Well, that’s not entirely true. I do have a Nintendo DS, but I’m pretty sure it’s dated. I could also look for music to listen to outside my heavy metal and new age borders, as long as it’s not disposable pop music or ultra-conservative country songs.

Sailing the rough waters should be as easy as getting off my ass and finding things to do. I certainly have the open schedule to do it, but that’s where my conversations about mental energy come back to bite me in the ass. You know you’re exhausted all the time when you’re too sluggish to sit on your ass and watch TV. Trying new things will require a visit to a sleep clinic to eventually diagnose me with sleep apnea and get me a prescription for an oxygen mask.

But even after I gain all of this energy, I still have to get in the mood to actually try new things. This sounds easy, but for me in particular, it’s not. Trying new things would mean taking a chance against something I might not like or might fail at. I fear failure so much that I’d rather stick to what I’m good at than risk looking like a fool or getting frustrated with what I’m doing. I’ve practiced playing the guitar for a lot of my pre-teen and teenage years. Despite getting an A in my middle school guitar class, I never got better at playing and I eventually gave up on it. It’s weird, because I’m not the best drawer in the world, yet I keep pumping out pictures like hotcakes. But I still get frustrated when trying to play a stupid goddamn guitar. No wonder Pete Townsend likes to smash his instruments.

If I ever decide to stop being an island, it’s going to take some help and convincing from other people. It’s not as simple as saying, “Go to You Tube and check it out!”, because I will likely tell you to go to hell. To use more island analogies, if I’m going to sail rough waters to other foreign lands, I’m going to do it on a Norwegian Cruise Line and not in a rowboat. I’ll be the passenger who cruises the various restaurants, and you, the one who wants me to see these foreign lands, will be the captain of the ship. We’ve got ears, say cheers!

　

***POISON TONGUE TALES***

As of this moment, I have 35 short stories that fall under the sci-fi, fantasy, and horror genres. My goal is the same as with American Darkness and my drama stories: I want to hit the magical number of 50. Because I’m currently suffering from writer’s block when it comes to Blood Brawl, I’m instead going to choose Poison Tongue Tales stories to write without the WSS’s prompts. A man cannot live on movie, book, and wrestling match reviews alone. That, and I’ve pretty much given up on writing character profiles since they all sound the same to me. Here’s a sneak preview of “Harvest Moon”, the next PTT story I will write:

　

CHARACTERS:

　

Ambrose Volta, Witchdoctor
Kendra Callahan, Assassin

　

PROMPT CONFORMITY: I’m doing this without the WSS’s prompts (no offense to those guys; I love them like family).

　

SYNOPSIS: Kendra has been hired to protect a funeral home that has been broken into several times over the past few days. During her patrol, she catches the culprit, Ambrose, in the act of harvesting spirit energy from the corpses and stealing valuable objects off of them. Kendra and Ambrose battle it out together in a war of martial arts vs. magic. The fight gets interesting when Ambrose reveals what he plans on doing with the harvested energy.

　

In addition to writing new stories, I will also be editing old ones. The next one I edit is “Ascension”, a barbarian story which will eventually have a new title since the old one doesn’t fit.

　

***WRESTLING QUOTE OF THE DAY***

“I caught a snake one time. I skinned it and drank its blood. It’s in a better place now.”

-Braun Strowman, the Wyatt Family’s “Face of Destruction”-