Barron Trump, Who Has an Interesting First Name Considering How His Father Is Governing

 

It's Not Porn

CHORUS

It’s!

Not!

Porn!

VERSE 1

Lesbian ladies on a double-decker bus

Homophobic men spying on their love

“Give us a show and make the fuck out

While we snort with our big piggy snouts”

The answer was no because they said so

Barbaric men decked them in the nose

Punching, screaming, secretly creaming

Where are the police when you need them?

CHORUS

It’s!

Not!

Porn!

VERSE 2

Unconscious girl behind a dumpster

Rapist swimmer summons the thunder

He called it twenty minutes of action

As he grinned with sick satisfaction

Slap on the wrist for Mr. White Privilege

A new idiot for the concrete village

He blamed it all on the damn alcohol

But at least his career never had to fall

CHORUS

It’s!

Not!

Porn!

BRIDGE

The faces of hate in the Sunday paper

The violence never seems to taper

No abortions for the pregnant victims

The right-wing never wants to listen

VERSE 3

If they dress like “sluts” and you grab their butts

Don’t be surprised when they kick you in the nuts

A revealing cosplay doesn’t give you the right

To fill her head full of trauma every fucking night

The real world isn’t like the porn on your computer

This urban war zone isn’t a First Person Shooter

You weren’t the first and you’re not the last

To need to have your head pulled out of your ass

CHORUS X4

It’s!

Not!

Porn!

The Last Ice Man

***THE LAST ICE MAN***

Poor sportsmanship seems to be a common topic among my blog entries lately. I guess my brother James was right: I did take everything personally back in those days. Everything! One small example was when I threw punches at an Everlast in a mall and the clerk told me to stop. Being the sensitive small child I was, I cried my eyes out on the way to the car. But of course, this blog entry is called The Last Ice Man, and unless I was training to be the next Chuck Liddell, that’s not the main focus here. Instead we go back to the early 90’s where my parents, brother, and I went to an ice skating rink in either Seattle or Vancouver (I forget which one).

Skating has never been my favorite thing to do since I always fell on my ass due to a lack of dexterity. I kept secretly wishing for ice skates that were double-bladed and had a wide berth, but alas, The Secret didn’t come out until 2006, so I was SOL. On this particular day, I held onto the railing and grinded my blades against the ice, making a little depression where I was standing. Of course, the female staff didn’t appreciate this, so they told me to stop. That should have been the end of it, but because I was a six year old child with poor sportsmanship, I took it personally yet again.

When the female staff skated by again, I shook my fist at them the same way a ballerina would do to express nonverbal anger. No middle finger, no crossed arms, just a ballet fist shake that I learned about in the first grade while studying that particular form of theater. The female staff skated over and tried to physically remove me from the rink, but I kept holding onto the railing for dear life, even when more staff members came over to help her. They finally relented when my mom explained to them that I was autistic and didn’t know any better….at least I think that was the argument she used. While I didn’t dig my skates into the ice again, I did manage to do a few laps around the ice and fall on my ass some more.

In my blog entries about soccer and swimming respectively, I actually considered making those scenarios into full-length novels. In the case of soccer, I’ve got a synopsis and character cast ready, but no chapter-by-chapter analysis. In the case of swimming, I’ve got nothing. Absolutely nothing. But how exactly does one make a novel out of this particular scenario? Does the main character get traumatized after being banned from the rink? Does he hate skating anyways? Does he have to learn good sportsmanship the hard way? If nothing else, this is just a cute story that I’m sure some of my readers could relate to as children.

Boy, I really didn’t think this one through, did I? If nothing else, writing a new blog entry will give me the chance to make announcements about my future projects, starting with…

***BEAUTIFUL MONSTER***

In case you couldn’t tell from the kinky action going on in chapter two, there are going to be future chapters of this novel with even more explicit sexual content, particularly chapters six and eleven. One of them will feature female-on-male rape and the other will feature consensual sex. No more spoilers beyond that! No, no, no! Then again, even Stevie Wonder could see this coming from miles away, so it’s not much of a spoiler.

***SHORT STORY***

I know I said months ago that I would discontinue American Darkness 3 because of how similar the stories were sounding. However, I’ve had this one idea that’s been rolling around in my head ever since drinking a shit ton of cold black tea, which is bad for schizophrenics in particular. Now that I think about it, black tea might be responsible for the brooding going on in my blog entry called “Wrestling With My Mind”. Green tea and jasmine tea don’t do that shit. But before I go too far down the rabbit hole, I want to present you all with a short story idea called “Everybody’s Rock”. It goes like this:

CHARACTERS:

1. Clark Hall, Aloof Boyfriend
2. Sidney Farrow, Tearful Girlfriend

PROMPT CONFORMITY: To be announced.

SYNOPSIS: The apartment scene opens with Clark vegging out in front of the TV while Sidney is crying hysterically and trying to get his attention. After a while of prodding, Clark goes on a tirade about how his girlfriend cries about everything while he has his own pain that he’s supposed to keep on the inside, thus being “everybody’s rock”. Clark wants desperately to be able to fall to pieces the same way Sidney is, but being a man hasn’t allowed him to do that due to male stereotypes and the general discomfort of those around him. Sidney pushes her boyfriend some more in an attempt to open his floodgates once and for all, but Clark is stubborn as hell. Sooner or later, everybody cracks no matter how strong of a rock they are.

***LYRICS OF THE DAY***

“Sunlight bright upon my pillow, lighter than an eiderdown. Will she let the weeping willow wind his branches around? Julia dream. Dreamboat queen. Queen of all my dreams. Every night I turn the light out waiting for my velvet bride. Will the scaly armadillo find me where I’m hiding? Julia dream. Dreamboat queen. Queen of all my dreams. Will the misty master break me? Will the key unlock my mind? Will my following footsteps catch me? Am I really dying? Julia dream. Dreamboat queen. Queen of all my dreams.”

-Pink Floyd singing “Julia Dream”-

The Last Aqua Man

***THE LAST AQUA MAN***

Remember a blog entry a few weeks ago about my childhood soccer team The Thunder Eagles? Well, that wasn’t just a fun story. It’s now an undeveloped idea for a novel somewhere down the line. The reason Silent Warrior resonated so well was because it was loosely based on real experiences I had. The Last Thunder Eagle, as it’s now called, will hopefully resonate as well since I used to be a sore loser. In some ways, I still am a sore loser and perhaps this novel idea is what will exorcise those demons forever. But that’s neither here nor there. I’ve already written the first chapter of Beautiful Monster and I intend to see that one through to the epilogue. Wish me luck!

But as long as I’m being inspired by stories from my past (that thankfully aren’t too traumatic), I might as well throw another one out there and see if it sticks. In the same way The Last Thunder Eagle is intended to be about soccer, The Last Aqua Man will be about swimming lessons, should it ever become a novel idea. When I was a kid, I already knew how to doggie paddle from point A to point B. But that just wasn’t enough for some reason, so my parents signed me up for swimming lessons at the community pool. Although I didn’t get hit with any soccer balls or knocked down, I still was not a happy camper.

There were six different levels of difficulty for these classes: Beginner’s Level Parts 1-4, Intermediate, and Advanced. During both rounds of swim lessons, I was placed in Beginner’s Level 4 and never passed to the next tier. One of the big reasons for this was because I hated sticking my head underwater without plugging my nose first. I hate water in my nose, I hate coughing it up, I hate blowing it out, and I hate water in my ears. I would have worn a pair of goggles that protected my nose, but the swim instructors wouldn’t let me use them. Instead they suggested that I hold my breath before sticking my head underwater. Didn’t work. I ended up feeling like a whitewashed version of Crazy K from Tales from the Hood. I know I make that reference a lot, but there aren’t a whole lot of movies out there where somebody shoves IV straws up another man’s nose, so that’s all I’ve got to work with.

During the second season of swim classes, one of our assignments was to dive right into the water, head first, arms extended. The first time I did this came without incident. In fact, my parents applauded me from the sidelines. And then with every successive time came more water in my nose and throat and not enough ways to expel it. After a while I just refused to dive and instead did a pencil jump while holding my nose shut. I already told you guys that I never passed either season of classes, but at this point I didn’t give two shits and a flying fuck. I was the Last Thunder Eagle and the Last Aqua Man all in one childhood. Sports really aren’t my thing after all. Hell, even gym class in general was an exhausting nightmare at times.

When I talked about The Thunder Eagles, I mentioned how soccer could be improved if hardcore violence was allowed. Well, I don’t think the same could be said for this blog entry. My misery was nobody else’s fault…this time. Nobody pushed me in the pool. Nobody tried to drown me. Nobody splashed me while I had my clothes on. Who was I going to beat the crap out of? The closest I could ever come to that would have to be literally cutting my nose off to spite my face. Yeah, that’s right! It’s my nose’s fault for allowing water to get in there in the first place. That’s not what noses are for! Isn’t that right, Melanie Good’s character from Die Watching? Now there’s a reference absolutely nobody is going to get…unless you’re into that sort of thing. Then again, “that sort of thing” is the only reason why I know that movie exists. How sad. How relentlessly sad.

So how exactly would The Last Aqua Man become a reasonable story? Would it be too similar to The Last Thunder Eagle? Am I just destined to write novels about sore losers my entire career? Mitch McLeod was a sore loser (when he did lose, which was not often). Mario Bryan was a sore loser. And now the main character from The Last Thunder Eagle, a ten-year-old named Alex Woodley, is going to be a REALLY sore loser. Brock Lesnar once said it best: in order to know how to win, you have to know how to lose. He was a sore loser in college and so am I in the real world.

And that’s the thing about life itself: failure is inevitable, but it’s how we react to it that will determine future success. Some people will pick themselves up and dust themselves off to go to work the next day. Others will crumble under the pressure and give up altogether. There were some things in my life that were worth continuing and some that I gave up on. I gave up on playing the guitar because I couldn’t move my fingers quickly enough across the frets. I gave up on playing Street Fighter IV because Abel kept getting cheap victories over me. I gave up on playing Magic: the Gathering because it became more about capitalism rather than the love of the game.

But when it comes to my creative outlets, mental health, and physical health, those are things I will never compromise on. These three things can’t exist without each other. I write for a living. I work on other creative endeavors for the love of art. I need a clear mind to do those things. And as far as physical health goes, I know my bulging belly will tell you otherwise, but I’ve actually lost a lot of weight in the past few months. I eat only three meals a day without snacking on sugary foods, I walk long distances whenever it’s nice outside, and I drink a lot of unsweetened iced tea. A lot! I haven’t kept track of how much weight I’ve lost, but I know I must be doing something right, because I can make it up and down the stairs without being overly winded. I guess there is life beyond childhood soccer and swimming. I’m Garrison Kelly! Even when you feel like dying, keep climbing the mountain!

***DOMESTIC DIALOGUE OF THE DAY***

ME: You know, Reina, there was once a time when I considered Squall Leonhart from Final Fantasy VIII to be my own personal hero. He had no emotional attachments, no unnecessary relationships, and he mastered the art of giving zero fucks.

REINA: So basically your hero was an angsty teenager?

ME: No, that’s not what he is!

REINA: He sounds like an angsty teenager, Garrison. I bet he listens to a lot of Linkin Park.

ME: Final Fantasy VIII came out a few years before the first Linkin Park album.

REINA: He still would have listened to them.

Computer Rage

***COMPUTER RAGE***

Good news, potty mouths! Scientific studies are showing that people who swear have a higher understanding of English language skills than people who don’t. This is indeed good news for me, because most of my horrific swearing bouts have come at the expense of my computer. Anytime my computer slows down, freezes, or just plain stops working, it’s not enough just to sit and wait. No, I have to unleash a firestorm of curses at the computer, most of which would land me in jail if I said them to a human being. For the first time ever, I will provide everyone here with a transcript of the most offensive, god-awful insults I’ve ever screamed at my computer. I’m purposefully excluding homophobic slurs from this transcript because I have too much respect for the LGBT community to post them. Otherwise, happy reading!


“Quit douching around!”

“You stupid ass computer!”

“Get moving, bitch!”

“Get your ass in gear!”

“Get your ass online!”

“I’m going to smack the shit out of you, you stupid son of a bitch!”

“I’m going to put my dick in your CD drive!”

“Goddamn it, move!”

“Don’t you disconnect! Don’t you fucking disconnect! Goddamn it!”

“I hope you goddamn die, you fucking computer!”

“Go to hell, you piece of shit!”

“You’re going to get your ass kicked if you don’t move your fucking ass!”

“Blow me! Blow me, blow me, blow me!”

“Screw you, you douche-bag!”

“I’m going to take a big fucking shit on you if you don’t move!”

“Play the goddamn fucking song!”

“FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!!!”


What can I say? It’s a healthy way to release angry stress. It’s not healthy for everyone in my house who has to listen to me, but it’s healthy for me. I’ll take a firestorm of swear words over squeezing a rubber ball or doing yoga any day of the fucking week. See what I did there? We’ve got ears, say cheers, bitches!


***OCCUPY WRESTLING***

I plan on posting this journal on many websites and Deviant Art is one of them. If you follow me on Deviant Art, then you’ve probably noticed a few chapters of Occupy Wrestling stacked up in your inbox, my most recent one being number five. I hope I get to sit down and edit some more on a regular basis. If I can bulldoze the first American Darkness book, I can probably do the same with Occupy Wrestling. We’ll just have to wait and see.


***DARK FANTASY WARRIORS***

Up next on deck is my second attempt at drawing a female character since making Danielle Courtney look like Marilyn Manson in drag. My niece Reina seems to think Miss Courtney looks like a “sassy black lady with a puppet face”. Hehehehehe! Here’s to hoping Hannah Jason looks a little more pleasant. Who’s Hannah Jason? She’s the magic-wielding assassin from “Bee Jay the Glutinous” who protects the little orange kitty from Raul Thunderstone’s cruelty. Hannah is modeled after the Diablo II sorceress, so maybe that will influence what I chose for a reference picture. Eh, maybe not.


***REINA***

On the 19th of this month, Reina will be celebrating her 12th birthday with me and the family. It’s hard to believe that my little baby niece is on the precipice of teen-hood. Holy shit! She wants to celebrate this coming-of-age milestone by playing in the swimming pool at the YMCA and by seeing the new Star Wars movie at the Regal Cinemas. I got her two presents for her special day, but I won’t be divulging what they are since Reina could potentially read this online and have her surprise spoiled. I hope she likes them! Happy Birthday, Reina-Bear! It’d be nice if everyone who reads this wishes her a Happy Birthday as well.


***TWEET OF THE DAY***

(RE: having a high character ranking in UFC’s latest videogame)

“Not since Samus Aran was revealed to be a woman have dummies been this butt hurt about a video game.”

-CM Punk-