Raising the Bar

CHORUS 1

You’re just mad because I’m raising the bar

I’m walking down the street looking like a superstar

Shout your shit at me from your Oscar-Meyer car

Overcompensate for a dick that doesn’t measure far

 

VERSE 1

Speaking of bars, we got to talk about this

You’re chugging Miller Lite a.k.a. horse piss

That chick looks cute, why don’t you give her a kiss

That’s your grandma, dude, get the fuck off her lips

Your drunken escapade is worth a quick mention

In a place called R-slash Incest Confessions

Those stories are fake, no doubt or a question

But you got a nonfiction Dewey Decimal extension

 

CHORUS 2

You’re just mad because I’m raising the bar

I’m walking down the street looking like a superstar

Shout your dog whistle slogans from a Cyber Truck

If you died in a car fire, I wouldn’t give a fuck

 

VERSE 2

Maybe Reddit forums really aren’t your vibe

Maybe farming for kiwis is where you’ll find your tribe

Get pissed at the world, especially all the girls

Who wouldn’t let you pound the pun-tang, ‘cause you made them hurl

Or maybe it’s a pair of dick and balls that you’re after

You can’t confess or you’ll bring your friends to laughter

They got your address, SWAT team makes an arrest

Stuck in a cell with Bubba, well, you know the rest

 

CHORUS 3

You’re just mad because I’m raising the bar

I’m walking down the street looking like a superstar

Shout the F-slur from your gas-wasting hummer

You deny climate change, die of heat stroke in the summer

You’re just mad because I’m raising the bar

I’m walking down the street looking like a superstar

Shout behind a megaphone from your black and white

Bring it on, Blue Balls, because I know my rights

"Stay Positive" by The Streets

If you’ve been reading this blog for the past few years now, I not only applaud you, but I also want you to notice “The Secret” by Rhonda Byrne is a part of my book collection. It has helped me in so many ways, but if I can be honest for a moment, staying positive is hard work. It may seem like easy pickings thinking positive thoughts all the time, but mental illness and general depression can really put a strain on such things.

For these moments, I have “Stay Positive” by The Streets, a British rap song with an uplifting message, but moody lyrics and background music. Somehow, it’s hard to do what the song’s title says when Mike Skinner is saying things like “You were born alone and believe me, you’ll die alone.” And yet, I need this song for all the times I feel down.

This song was published in 2002, but it would be a year later when my brother James introduced me to The Streets. It was around 2003 and 2004 that I started writing Pumping Filter, a movie script about high school woes and a big middle finger to those who abandoned me during that time. That’s what it was supposed to be. Instead, it was Pulp Fiction on steroids, so much so the script was unreadable.

The ending to this story isn’t any happier. Four high school students meet their fates in the most ugly ways possible. Tommy Dragon falls out of a window, Daniel McBride gets killed by a gangster, Dave Ridley goes to prison after committing murder, and Dexter Lee commits suicide by hanging due to complications from mental illness. Is it any coincidence that “Stay Positive” would have been the end credits theme to this movie if it made it to the big screen? It worked for Kidulthood, why not Pumping Filter?

And then we fast forward to the year 2010, particularly in November when I’m writing a cyberpunk novella called Dark City Tales. As the first word in that title suggests, nothing happy ever goes on in this story. Then again, it’s a cyberpunk world, where corporations own everything, governments are powerless to stop them, everybody has explosive guns, the police are corrupt, and the sky is as gray as static on a TV screen…just like in the real world!

With all of this nasty shit going on in urban America, the apocalypse shouldn’t be too far behind. In Dark City Tales, it wasn’t. Two cyborg mercenaries named AJ Rollins and Andre Devilheart destroyed the entire city just by fighting each other with highly explosive weapons. Even after the city was leveled and AJ and Andre was mangled beyond repair, they still wanted more! Do you think this is a good time for “Stay Positive”? Honey, it’s going to take some serious rainbow and unicorn shit to get this world back in order.

Pumping Filter and Dark City Tales have so much in common. They’re both about dystopian hellholes, they’re extremely violent, and most of all, they were so badly written they had to be scrapped. I consider those two pieces of writing to be just another way of sharpening my literary blade.

I see a lot of that in my past pieces of writing: they’re not future Pulitzer-winners, but they are opportunities to improve my writing. I’d like to think I’ve improved dramatically since 2002, so much so that I wouldn’t mind using some of my old characters again. If you thought the old characters were unhappy with being pummeled before, wait until they get put through the ringer again with new and improved stories. And yes, there will be plenty of opportunities to use “Stay Positive” as background music. Go see your mates. When they don’t look happy, play ‘em this tape.

　

***SOUND FILE OF THE DAY***

Hello and welcome to the Mental Health Hotline.

If you’re obsessive-compulsive, press 1 repeatedly.

If you’re codependent, ask someone to press 2 for you.

If you have multiple personalities, press 3-4-5-6.

If you’re paranoid, we know what you are and what you want, stay on the line and we’ll trace your call.

If you’re delusional, press 7 and your call will be transferred to the mother ship.

If you’re schizophrenic, listen carefully, a small voice will tell you which number to press.

If you’re depressive, it doesn’t matter which number you press, no one will answer you.

If you’re dyslexic, press 6-9-6-9-6-9-6-9-6-9.

If you have a nervous disorder, fidget with the hash key until the beep. After the beep, please wait for the beep.

If you have short term memory loss, try your call again later.

If you have low self-esteem, hang up, all of our operators are too busy to talk to you.

MMA Dreams

I used to think that professional wrestling was the most criticized sport in the world until I started watching mixed-martial arts around the time when Brock Lesnar became the UFC Heavyweight Champion. In only a short period of time, I’ve seen all the negative aspects of the sport: homophobia, transphobia, misogyny, poor sportsmanship, cyber-bullying, unwarranted criticism, premature referee stoppages, squirrelly judging, what more can I say? There was even an incident at UFC Fight Night: Henderson vs. Khabilov where a fighter named Jason High shoved a referee after his fight was “stopped too soon”. Mr. High was cut from the UFC shortly after.

Despite all of these negativities, I still find MMA to be fascinating, which is probably why I continue to have dreams about doing MMA about as often as I have dreams about going to school. In my own subconscious, I’ve had matches with the best of every weight division. I up-kicked my way to a KO victory against Chael Sonnen, I right hooked Pat Barry into dreamland, I called out Matt Mitrione after another triumphant victory, and I even locked Nate Diaz in a kimura and made him tap out. If I insinuated that these claims were true, people would say, “In your dreams!” And they’d be right too, because these exciting MMA moments only happened in my dreams.

Truth is, if I actually tried the intense exercise regimen these fighters go through day in and day out with my clunky body, I’d pass out within seconds. My greatest claim to athletic fame is walking to the grocery store every morning to buy either a pound of popcorn chicken or three one-liter bottles of Diet Mountain Dew. Whenever I’m not “training like a champ”, I’m usually eating an oversized meal at McDonald’s or Wendy’s, usually consisting of 20 chicken tenders, the biggest burger they have (without the bun), and a large unsweetened iced tea. Not exactly the athletic lifestyle a typical MMA fighter leads.

Deep down in my subconscious, I know even though I don’t train like an athlete, the thrill of having a long winning streak and being cheered on my thousands of fans is exciting. The fight itself would be even more exciting, provided I wasn’t in the cage with a “grinder”. Perhaps these MMA dreams are a manifestation of my need for excitement.

Given the limited resources I have at my disposal, I have only a few ideas of what would constitute excitement. Writing is always an adrenaline thrill I love, especially if there’s a fight going on in my stories. Going to see an action movie at Regal Cinemas is exciting as well, my most recent one being Godzilla. If I didn’t want to go out in public, I could just rent a movie on my Roku, this time my most recent viewing adventure being the first “How To Train Your Dragon”. If I’m feeling particularly frisky, I could read “A Million Little Pieces” by James Frey, which is both depressing and exciting at the same time.

The activities mentioned above are just temporary fixes, though. Once I do them, they’re done forever. I know, I know, there will always be books to read, movies to watch, and stories to write, but that doesn’t mean I’m getting a permanent high from these things. There’s too much of a wide gap of boredom in between activities. If I can find a way to shorten the gaps without turning my mind into a melting puddle of exhaustion, that would be excellent.

The sleeping dreams and waking fantasies I have just might be the answer I need for filling the boredom gaps. Thinking is the best way to travel and who travels more than an MMA fighter? I could go to Brazil from my beddy-bye and elbow my way into a Performance of the Night award. I could go to Chicago from my treks to the grocery store and guillotine choke my way to my 15^th victory. And as long as we’re talking about Chicago, I could get a slice of deep dish pizza after I’m done cutting weight.

I just thought of another reason not to do MMA in real life: cutting weight. I have a hard enough time losing weight and staying away from fatty foods. If all the water was drained from my body, I still wouldn’t make the 265 lb. heavyweight limit. That, and my opponent would be awarded a KO victory automatically after I pass out on the scale. I can still dream, right? I can still exercise my subconscious creativity and make some kick-ass stories out of it, right? You’re damn right I can!

　

***LYRICS OF THE DAY***

“Geezers need excitement. If their lives don’t provide them this, they’ll incite violence. Commonsense. Simple commonsense.”

-The Streets rapping “Geezers Need Excitement”-

"Irish Squeeze" by Marie Krepps

If you’re suffering from erectile dysfunction, ask your doctor if “Irish Squeeze” by Marie Krepps is right for you. Side effects are generally moderate and may include fatigue, muscle tension, and frequent sweating. Okay, so asking a doctor about this book isn’t sound medical advice, but I’d take a copy of this steamy piece of fiction over a bottle of Viagra any day of the week. Viagra can give you nasty side effects such as bleeding from the eyes and a higher risk of stroke. But “Irish Squeeze”? The only stroke you’re going to suffer from reading this is the kind that requires a big bottle of lotion and an even bigger box of tissues. The sex scenes in this book are long enough to enjoy and intense enough to fantasize about. But this book is more than just Larry Flynt’s dream come true. It’s a real story. The further along you get, the more real the characters become. The protagonist, Melissa, starts off just wanting a fuck buddy to take her away from her life of energetic children and corporate drudgery. She gets one in the form of an Irish stud muffin she aptly calls Irish. They have some of the most mind-blowing sex throughout this story. But the more times they meet, the more intimate and loving Irish becomes. Suddenly, he doesn’t seem like a nameless screw. He seems more like a boyfriend, maybe even a husband. Melissa doesn’t want romance because of the many times she’s been betrayed by the men in her life. These conflicted feelings boiling within Melissa forces her to make a decision: advance the relationship or push Irish away completely. When it comes down to these details, this modern day erotic tale becomes less about shallowness and more about depth and emotion. Any two people can fuck like animals, but it takes a real human being to show love and compassion at the end of the day. Taking full advantage of such passion is something we all need to do somewhere down the road. But until that moment of clarity comes, you’ll be coming a lot sooner. Happy reading!

　

***LYRICS OF THE DAY***

“I didn’t know that it was over ‘til it was too late. But if I ever needed you, would you be there?”

-The Streets singing “It’s Too Late”-