Thursday, May 31, 2018

Do It Live


VERSE 1
I hate answering the phone, I hate answering the door
Especially when all I want to do is fucking snore
I hate cleaning up cat barf, I hate cleaning up dog shit
I speak a colorful language and I won’t fucking watch it
I hate lifting heavy boxes, I hate bumping into walls
I hate having to tell the dog to not scratch my balls
The little things I hate send me into a bloody rage
If throwing fits was a crime, I’d be in a monkey cage

CHORUS
I’ll write it and we’ll do it live!
We’ll do it live!
Fuck it, do it live!
Fucking thing sucks!

VERSE 2
Every character I have is on a violent rampage
Every song that I write is dripping with rage
Every story that I publish is drooling with venom
Every drawing that I make is another damn weapon
Every thought that I have makes me want to punch
A fucking hole in your skull and have it for lunch
I need anger management in the worst fucking way
Before the world at large is going to fucking pay

CHORUS
I’ll write it and we’ll do it live!
We’ll do it live!
Fuck it, do it live!
Fucking thing sucks!

VERSE 3
Maybe my short fuse can be blamed on schizophrenia
Or maybe it’s been a while since I’ve had an enema
Or maybe I don’t do enough yoga in hot shorts
Or maybe my blood sugar is a little low on quarts
Or maybe it’s my past of being stuck in class
With the pieces of shit and the pains in the ass
Or maybe I’m just born with a dragon fire temper
Or maybe I’m sick of being my own defender

FINAL WORDS
Do it live, motherfucker! Do it live! X4

Sunday, May 27, 2018

Young Turk


VERSE 1
I am the Young Turk, I am creative fuel
I don’t say this shit because it sounds cool
I do it for the fire, I do it for the passion
Fuck what’s trendy, fuck what’s in fashion
Call me a Young Turd, call me a Young Jerk
You’re the only one who’s going berserk
You’ve got a loud voice? Mine is even louder
My words are explosive like lit gun powder

VERSE 2
I am the Young Turk, social justice ronin
Adrenalize the world with a dose of serotonin
I don’t need your guns, I don’t need your bombs
You don’t need armor, just a hug from your mom
Call me a snowflake, call me easily triggered
Watch as this movement gets bigger and bigger
You’ve got an army? Mine is even stronger
Your iron fist won’t rule for much longer

VERSE 3
I am the Young Turk, your worst fucking nightmare
The ghost breathing down your neck until you’re tired
You will relent one day, you will fucking pay
For all the sins you’ve put on internet display
For all the shots fired, for all the brains wired
For all the demon seeds you’ve fucking sired
You’ve got a congregation? Mine is everywhere
Watch as the one percent rips out their own hair

FINAL LINES
I am the Young Turk, lightning in a bottle
I am the Young Turk, American role model
I am the Young Turk, see you in November
I am the Young Turk, always fucking remember
I am the Young Turk! X4

Saturday, May 26, 2018

Some People Never Die


CHORUS 1
Some people never die
They thrive on those who cry
On those who dare ask why
Some people never die

VERSE 1
Friends come and go, assholes are forever
Pissing on your party like stormy weather
Killing the planet and killing its people
It’s evil for the sake of just being evil
Hate is their lifeblood, death is their air
The devil and his demons don’t compare
The innocents are left to pick up the tab
Long after laying on cold metal slabs

CHORUS 2
Some people never die
Don’t even fucking try
To get your share of pie
Some people never die

VERSE 2
Mortality is only for those at the bottom
It’s not just a fucking first world problem
The elite of the elite are treated like gods
They get to pick who falls for the frauds
They get to choose who lives and who dies
That’s what they mean by Right to Life
Shoot first and ask questions later, son
Isn’t this a lot of goddamn fucking fun?

CHORUS 3
Some people never die
Some people buy into lies
Some shit just always flies
Some people never die
Some people live forever
Some people have it better
Some people rule the world
Making their queens’ toes curl

CHORUS 4
Some people are pieces of shit
While others had enough of it
Some people are worthy of hate
Revolution? Why should we wait?
Some people wore out their welcomes
While others feel fucking helpless
Some people never die
Some people never fucking die!

Friday, May 25, 2018

Garrisonian Tropes


***GARRISONIAN TROPES***

Whenever Ashley Uzzell/Marie Krepps and I get together for a critiquing session, she always jokes about common tropes that end up in my writing and I laugh along with her. She recently wrote an awesome review for American Darkness where she describes my characters as being constantly pissed off about everything. I thought that was funny as hell. Plus, I’m grateful for all three of my stars. Would you guys like to see some of these tropes and how I analyze them? I’m sure you’d love that, so that’s what I’m going to do since I’m all about customer service.


***MANIC PIXIE DREAM GIRL***

Debra Winter from Occupy Wrestling (published) and Kelly McVeigh from Filter Feeder (first draft) would be the exceptions to this rule, but from Watch You Burn on, every female supporting character I had falls under the Manic Pixie Dream Girl category. Every fucking one of them. In case you don’t know what this pejorative term means, it’s a supporting female character whose sole purpose in the novel is to boost the self-esteem of the brooding male protagonist. Jessica Harley (Watch You Burn), Raven Triscloud (Demon Axe), Adrienne Simpson (Silent Warrior), and Tarja Rikkinen (Beautiful Monster) are all shining examples of the trope. There’s supposed to be some sort of psychoanalysis as to why male authors write these characters, but I don’t quite know what it is. If any of you would like to pick my brain, that’d be wonderful. I swear I’m not writing these characters to be a sexist pig. I didn’t even know this kind of character had a pejorative term until after I started writing Beautiful Monster. I’m so far down the rabbit hole with that novel that I might as well see it through to the twenty-first chapter and fix it all later.


***FAT VILLAINS***

Ashley loves to joke about this one a lot and I can definitely see the humor in it. Most of my fat villains come from American Darkness and Poison Tongue Tales, but Rinehart from Beautiful Monster could fit this trope too. I swear I’m not writing the characters out of self-hatred (because I’m fat too) or because I’m secretly into fat-shaming (I’m not). You won’t even have to pick my brain in order to find out what I’m talking about. If you follow politics, you’ll notice that there are a lot of politicians and pundits out there who are universally hated and also happen to be on the pudgy side. Donald Trump, Newt Gingrich, Alex Jones, Chris Christie, and Rush Limbaugh are all shining examples of this. Villains by their very nature are to be hated, so what better way to hate someone than to compare them to a despicable political figure? I’m sure there are a lot of cartoonists out there who do the exact same thing.


***ANGRY CHARACTERS***

It seems as though every other piece of dialogue in my writing has an exclamation point, a swear word, or an insult attached to it. Plus, it doesn’t help matters that my characters are constantly beating the living shit out of each other. It would be easy to attribute this to my love for WWE since professional wrestlers are constantly cutting angry monologues against each other. Or maybe it’s because I too have a hair trigger temper at the little things in life. I scream like a barbarian whenever the phone rings. I go into swearing fits whenever Maggie shits on the floor or Smokey barfs on my bed. I once spit on my computer screen because my computer was slowing the fuck down and freezing all the time. Maybe there’s something about having schizophrenia that makes me irritable all the time. Maybe I just need a chair massage and a day at the spa.


***SAGGY JOWLED DOGS***

American Darkness and Poison Tongue Tales are where the saggy-jowled dogs live. My step-dad’s dog Maggie has a set of saggy jowls on her, so that’s where I get it from. She’s a mix between a Springer Spaniel and a Bassett Hound. She’s also sixteen years old as of today. She’s older than Herbert’s dog on Family Guy and gets around just as well. Maggie eventually became her own character in a Poison Tongue Tales story called Maggie’s Wisdom, where she played the role of a pilgrim trying to calm down a pissed off monk named Brock Dempsey. Well, what do you know? Another angry character! Wow! Spoiler alert: Brock finds his inner peace by scratching Maggie’s fuzzy belly.


***SENSITIVE CRY BABIES***

It doesn’t matter if the character is a muscle head barbarian or a gentle poet: chances are good they’ve shed a few tears in my stories. Crying actually became part of Windham Xavier’s character development in Beautiful Monster. He’s so afraid of appearing weak in front of his peers that he holds his tears in, forever conforming to male stereotypes that his girlfriend Tarja tries to shatter. But even before that, I’d have macho men crying all the time, most specifically Daniel Mercer from Demon Axe. Then again, Daniel was a heavy metal singer with years of pain behind him and PTSD from watching his band mates die, so he’s excused…I think? Maybe? I don’t know? In case you think this is a self-insert trope, I haven’t had a full-on crying spell since 2007, when I thought my only option for college was going to Evergreen in Olympia, where I would basically be a 24/7 student with no free time to myself. Haven’t cried since then. I did have sore eyes and a little bit of water trickling out whenever I watched old Never Ending Story videos on You Tube, but nothing that resulted in real crying.


***ASSHOLE PROTAGONISTS***

This one can be blamed on shades of gray logic where characters are supposed to have flaws, so I made one of their flaws asshole behavior. Big mistake. I had to edit Occupy Wrestling multiple times because the main character Mitch McLeod appeared too dickish for the heroic role. And now that I look back on Watch You Burn, the main character from there, Mario Bryan, is also a huge douche canoe, which probably makes readers wonder what Jessica Harley (Manic Pixie Dream Girl) sees in him anyways. There’ve been many debates among authors over what constitutes a good protagonist whether it’s flaws, snappy dialogue, average characterization, or whatnot. Some protagonists out there can be assholes without turning the reader off too much. I haven’t mastered that art yet, so maybe I’ll just stick to having friendly characters…who are pissed off all the time…and have saggy jowled dogs as pets…and are dating Manic Pixie Dream Girls….okay, that’s enough. Hehe!


***CONCLUSION***

It could be that I’ve left a few tropes out, but I’m sure they’ll pop up right after I post this blog entry online. They always do. I’m Garrison Kelly! Even when you feel like dying, keep climbing the mountain!


***LYRICS OF THE DAY***

“Some people live their dreams. Some people close their eyes. Some people’s destiny passes by. There are no guarantees. There are no alibis. That’s how our love must be. Don’t ask why. It takes some time. God knows how long. I know that I can forget you as soon as my heart stops breaking, anticipating. As soon as forever is through, I’ll be over you. Remembering times gone by, promises we once made. What are the reasons why nothing stays the same? There were the nights holding you close. Someday I’ll try to forget them as soon as my heart stops breaking, anticipating. As soon as forever is through, I’ll be over you.”

-Toto singing “I’ll Be Over You”-

Chronomancer


CHORUS 1
Chronomancer! Dickless Tracy!
Colonel Mouse Turd! Fucking face me!
I’ve paid for every one of my sins!
Throw your evidence in the garbage bin!

VERSE 1
Time is a weapon deadlier than a gun
Past, present, and future become one
Anxiety, depression, hostile aggression
Every mistake becomes worthy of mention
I’ve said I’m sorry about a million times
You’ve stayed quiet about your own crimes
How convenient since you need an attorney
To guide you through your criminal journey

CHORUS 2
Chronomancer! Sherlock Home Wrecker!
Missus Pee Cock! Go on record!
Tell everyone how horrible I am!
Forget your own sins, your own jam!

VERSE 2
The future looks grim for the atoners
Turning social butterflies into loners
Turning the past into something that lasts
Forever on a radio show on full blast
I’ve been explaining, yet you don’t hear me
Trying to make my own loved ones fear me
Chronomancer, you don’t have the answers
You’re just a loud and obnoxious bastard

BRIDGE
Those who truly need their final closure
Will always believe it’ll never be over
Thanks to you and your holy crusade
The trauma and drama will never fade

CHORUS 3
Chronomancer! TJ Crooked!
Mister Body Bag! I knew you wouldn’t
Have the guts to see this all the way through!
You’re just a disc jockey with a loose screw!
Pornomancer! You’re the cancer!
You’re the keeper of false answers!
Don’t even try to cast your stones!
You can’t even control your own bone!

Wednesday, May 23, 2018

Escape From Chehalis


***ESCAPE FROM CHEHALIS***

“You’ve escaped from New York! You’ve escaped from Cleveland! But this is LA!”

Yes, that is a direct quote from the movie “Escape from LA” back in the 90’s. But I have to ask: is it really that hard to escape from Cleveland, Ohio? Well, if I had a hard time escaping from Chehalis as a teenager, then the answer must have been yes. It’s true. With my screenwriting skills at the time, I could have written a movie called Escape From Chehalis. Actually, it wouldn’t have been very exciting since all I had to do was move to an apartment in Bremerton and go to school in Silverdale. But hey, as long as the best part of Chehalis is leaving, let’s explore some other routes I considered. Those of you who know about my Chehalis past know that I was bullied in high school, so getting out of that toxic town was good for me. But what if I needed an earlier exit? What high school dropout careers could I have embarked on to give me a parole from that rightwing dystopia? Well…


***ARENA OF DEATH***

It’s probably no surprise that I had an extreme fascination with death back in 1999/2000. I wanted to rent the first volume of Faces of Death, but the video store clerk wouldn’t let me because I was only fourteen at the time. It’s unbelievable…video stores actually existed back then! It would have been so nice to see one of my movies on the shelf, particularly an idea I had called Arena of Death. I could drop out of school, grab a camera, and film a bunch of gory fight scenes in an abandoned building. That’s basically what Arena of Death was supposed to be: an ECW-esque tournament where the winner…uh…actually, I hadn’t figured out a prize for the winner yet. If only I had a working video camera and friends who would volunteer for this movie. Oh well.


***BOUNTY HUNTER***

As a result of my verbal bullying, I got in a lot of fights and I won most of them simply by throwing one strike. I didn’t need a KO victory or even a TKO. Just one strike and it was all over. Having this kind of Goldberg-esque undefeated streak under my belt (which is easy to obtain in Chehalis), I actually considered a career as a bounty hunter. No shit! Just go around Washington state bringing criminals in with my fists and feet of fury. Hell, there was even a time when I considered entering a tough man competition; that’s how confident I was in my minimal fighting skills. Little did I know that most of the bounty heads might have carried guns or knives, neither of which I had in great supply (even though I one time asked for a gun for Christmas).


***EXTREME CHAMPIONSHIP WRESTLING***

Yes, I did mention ECW earlier in this blog. Yes, being the “tough guy” I was, I thought a career in that wrestling promotion was the right move for me, as opposed to finishing school in Chehalis. That’s basically like saying, “I’d rather get cut open with razor wire or power bombed through a fiery table than go to school in Chehalis”. Haha! But seriously, ECW was a huge source of creative fuel for me back in the day (before they closed their doors permanently in 2001). Weapons were fair game, anybody could beat up anybody, blood was liberally splattered everywhere, and hardcore legends were born. Although, verbal bullying could never prepare me for actual broken bones and slashed skin. Plus, ECW was based in Philadelphia, so if I couldn’t afford a video camera for Arena of Death, I damn sure couldn’t afford a plane ticket across the country.


***FLORIDA***

Yes, it’s true, folks! Back in 2000, my mom got a job offer in Florida and I was secretly hoping that she would get it and get my ass out of Chehalis. Boy, you talk about out of the frying pan and into the fire! Knowing what we now know about Florida, that’s basically like trying to get away from Jeffrey Dahmer by hiding out on John Wayne Gacy’s crawlspace. I didn’t care about politics in the year 2000, but I probably should have since Florida is as red as ECW bloodbaths. School shootings, racist murders, Carl Hiaasen novel scenarios, natural disasters, crocodiles, good god!


***GUITARIST***

From 1996 to 2001, I practiced on an acoustic and later an electric guitar with the hopes that I’d be as good as David Gilmour from Pink Floyd. Starting my own rock band was the surefire way to get out of high school and I’d be doing something I loved. Except for one thing: I didn’t love playing the guitar. It was hard. It was fucking hard! Moving my fingers across the frets with lightning speed wasn’t my cup of tea, which is funny since I can do it just fine when I’m writing things on a computer keyboard. I would often play really slowly with the top string and only my middle finger holding the frets. Configuring my digits into chord positions was too much to handle and I eventually gave up that potential exit from Chehalis. Any more mediocrity and I’d have to smash my guitar to pieces like Billie Joe Armstrong did at the iHeart Radio Festival in 2012, when Green Day’s stage time was cut short.


***SUPER FINAL FANTASY***

Before settling on a career in screenwriting, my childhood dream job used to be creating videogames and one of them was Super Final Fantasy. I was in love with Final Fantasy VII and VIII, so naturally I wanted to give my own shot into creating a game in the series. My main character was a shotgun-wielding, trench coat-wearing teenager (don’t look for themes here) named Sage Gannon, who was out to avenge the death of his coal miner father. Guiding his path would be the fluffy blond haired swordsman Minra Durandose (if Cloud and Squall had a love child, it’d be Minra). The token female love interest (I didn’t know it was wrong!) was a bikini-wearing mystical goddess named Siren, who used a combination of seduction and harp playing to lull enemies into defenselessness (again, I didn’t know it was wrong!). Development was going swimmingly until Squall appeared in my head as a schizophrenic voice and told me to, “Write [my] own shit and stop copying other people.” Thanks, Squall. Great advice from a guy who can’t figure out how to trust people.


***UNDERTAKER***

Remember how I told you all I had a weird fascination with death? Well, try not to read too much into this, but I actually considered a dropout career of burying dead bodies at the local cemetery. Before you ask, no, I wasn’t planning on murdering my bullies and giving them their own graves. I’m not that sick. Hehe! No, being an undertaker is a legitimate career. And when I say undertaker, I’m not talking about the WWE wrestler who at the time was doing a satanic cult storyline. Yes, digging holes is physically exhausting for someone as small I was back then, but a paycheck is a paycheck and a lack of high school hostility is just that.


***CONCLUSION***

You’re probably reading all of these potential career choices and are worried sick about me. You’re probably thinking that I’m living in the past and refusing to let go of my demons. You couldn’t be further from the truth. My most recent blog entries have been about my childhood follies, so this one is no different. I’m glad I finished school and became an indie author. I wouldn’t have it any other way. Knowing what I now know about schizophrenia and autism, I most likely wouldn’t have survived these alternative careers. Every career has its own set of assholes and friendly people. Running away wouldn’t have solved anything. No matter where you go, you take your baggage with you. Only through claiming responsibility and seeking help can you overcome your problems. I’ve overcome my demons and I’m better for it. It took a long time to do, but it happened. Live your life without regrets. If you must delve into the past, find things to laugh about, not things to kick yourself over. I’m Garrison Kelly! Even when you feel like dying, keep climbing the mountain!


***LYRICS OF THE DAY***

“So you think you’re a Romeo playing a part in a picture show. Take the long way home. ‘Cause you’re the joke of your neighborhood. Why should you care if you’re feeling good? Take the long way home. But there are times that you feel you’re part of the scenery. All the greenery is coming down, boy. And then your wife seems to think you’re a part of the furniture. Oh, it’s peculiar. She used to be so nice. When lonely days turn to lonely nights, you take a trip to the city lights. Take the long way home. You never see what you want to see forever playing to the gallery. Take the long way home. And when you’re up on the stage, it’s so unbelievable. Oh, unforgettable how they adore you. But then your wife seems to think you’re losing your sanity. Oh, calamity, there’s no way out. Does it feel that your life’s become a catastrophe? Oh, it has to be for you to grow, boy. When you look through the years and see what you could have been. Oh, what you might have been. If you’d had more time. So when the day comes to settle down, who’s to blame if you’re not around? Take the long way home.”

-Supertramp singing “Take the Long Way Home”-

Tuesday, May 22, 2018

Because of You


Whether or not you believe it to be true
This world is different because of you
Every word you say, every dollar you spend
Every action you take, every position you defend
Every friend you make, every heart you take
Every enemy you kill, all the blood you spill
What seems like nothing on the surface
Could feel to others overwhelmingly urgent
A lifelong lesson or an honorable mention
A permanent heaven or a hellish weapon
For every action, there’s a consequence
No in-betweens, no riding on the fence
Do you want to be a force of positive change?
Or a constant source of negative pain?
No matter what decision you ultimately make
Have no regrets unless you want to break
This world is different because of you
Either tear it apart or become its glue

Thursday, May 17, 2018

The Last Child Comedian


***BEFORE I BEGIN***

Just a quick heads up to readers of Beautiful Monster: chapter eleven will be featured exclusively on Wattpad and nowhere else due to its strong sexual content. You won’t need a trigger warning this time, because the sex will be consensual (and maybe a little pornographic, depending on my own personal knowledge of sex). This chapter has been a long time coming, though it’s only the beginning of a much larger story of recovery and sensitivity.


***THE LAST CHILD COMEDIAN***

Many of you already know this, but when it comes to my sense of humor and my writing, George Carlin has always been one of my biggest influences. He swears like a sailor, he’s unafraid of being censored, he’s poignant as hell, and best of all, he’s funnier than a motherfucker. Speaking of which, “A father is a motherfucker.” That’s a direct line from George Carlin and it got my laugh motor going at the time. Thank god he came into my life when he did, because my sense of humor was suffering as an early teenager slash little kid.

Before Curious George became part of my comedic repertoire, I had guys like Johnny Carson and Benny Hill giving me my fill. There’s nothing wrong with either of those two comedians, but there was something wrong with the way I’ve processed their jokes into my own creativity. They told a lot of adult jokes that I wasn’t old enough to get yet, so all I had was their G-rated material. And from those jokes came some…questionable material on my part.

I knew it was questionable because when I told these manufactured jokes to my dad and brother, they didn’t laugh. Quite frankly, I don’t blame them. Want to hear my version of Jeff Foxworthy? Prepare to cringe hard. “If you fly all the way to Big Ben just to see what time it is, you might be a redneck.” Good god almighty. What the fuck? You think that’s awful, listen to this: “Why don’t criminals use pens? Because they might go to jail (pen as in penitentiary)”. Ugh. I’m cringing just writing these jokes down.

But it didn’t stop there. In fact, it got progressively worse. I’m sure my older brother remembers the infamous “Buttered Toast Shop” routine. It told the fictional story of a crabby restaurant owner with a lisp who only served buttered toast at his establishment. You couldn’t order anything else, not jam, not peanut butter, not even water. Just buttered toast. You also couldn’t dress like Wonder Woman in his diner because he’ll accuse you of wearing a diaper instead of a one-piece suit. I’ll let you all shiver for a few seconds before I continue.

And then there was a routine about a fat black guy named Tiny winning a vacation to Hawaii. Only he didn’t pronounce it the way people normally do. He pronounced it “Hwy.” That’s it. That’s the punch line for this whole joke. People would constantly try to correct him, but he just kept calling it “Hwy”, so he had his vacation revoked. I bet some alternative right motherfuckers would eat this shit up, but not my brother, who rightfully told me that my sense of humor was for little babies.

And then it got worse once again. My next routine was about an airline traveler who wanted to go to Japan, but kept getting his ass kicked by ninjas. In fact, the ninjas told him in a butchered sing-song accent, “We are the Japanese ninjas and we’re going to kick your butt!” Okay, so just don’t go to Japan. Problem solved. But then this traveler kept going to other countries and getting his ass kicked by ninjas. “We are the [Insert Foreign Country Here] ninjas and we’re going to kick your butt!” Even when he was on an airplane over the Pacific Ocean, he’d still get his ass kicked by international ninjas. Not one laugh. Not one goddamn laugh was earned that day. I can’t imagine why. Oh, excuse me. I can’t imagine “hwy”.

I didn’t watch my first George Carlin HBO special until I was fifteen years old. It was a VHS version of “Doing It Again”, where he talks about euphemisms, politically correct language, dog turds, and anything else that would make the censors rip their hair out. I watched these comedy bits and I thought to myself, “I want to do that!” So I took myself over to The Matrix Coffeehouse in Chehalis, Washington and performed George Carlin routines from memory. “If crime fighters fight crime and fire fighters fight fires, what do freedom fighters fight?” And of course, some wiseass from the crowd just had to yell, “Freedom!” Even so, I probably got more laughs doing this than I would have talking about a fictional Buttered Toast Shop.

It was from that George Carlin special along with the movie Pink Floyd the Wall that gave me my strong sense of individuality. I could crack offensive jokes and listen to devilish music without ever once caring what other people thought of me. I still take that nonconformist attitude into my adult life, though I’ve calmed down just a little bit during those lengthy years. Thank you, George, for bringing me the mental emancipation I needed from dull G-rated comedy that makes no goddamn sense. He’s been dead for a whole decade now, but I still keep his comedy close to my heart.

The lesson for the day: if you must process creative fuel and form your personal identity around it, don’t let anybody tell you you can’t do this or you can’t do that. Do what feels right to you. Do what makes you happy. Unless you’re a serial killer, in which case, you should probably surrender yourself to the authorities. Other than that, try not to crack under the pressures of society. They don’t care about you and your dreams. They only care about keeping the machine moving, a machine which grinds individuality into pieces of homogenous meat. I told you Pink Floyd the Wall had a strong influence on me! I’m Garrison Kelly! Even when you feel like dying, keep climbing the mountain!


***COMEDY ROUTINE OF THE DAY***

“Let’s take a look at some of these food words, particularly “old-fashioned”. When you hear the words “old-fashioned”, you’re supposed to think, “Oh, this goes back to the old days!” Right! The old days! Before we had sanitation laws. Before hygiene became popular. When botulism was still considered to be a sauce. Old-fashioned is supposed to give you a warm feeling. It makes you think about your grandma. Well, I don’t know about you, but when I’m picking out food, I don’t want to picture ninety pounds of wrinkles in a black dress…with a big hairy mole sticking out…and an infected lip.”

-George Carlin, 1937-2008-

Shy Guy Blues


VERSE 1
You think it’s cute when I stare at my shoes
As I try to shake off these shy guy blues
As I sit and stew over nothing really new
Sifting through creative fuel to see what’s true
It’s okay if you don’t want to talk to me
It’s not like I’m the easiest guy to see
In a crowd full of people who love to chat
About the weather, their jobs, this, and that

VERSE 2
Confidence and charisma come so naturally
To those whose motto is “Love Actually”
I try to think of what I have to offer you
I’m coming up short, still the quiet attitude
I could write you a poem, but you won’t see it
Even if you could, you’d never believe it
It’s okay if you don’t want to crack my shell
I hope the rest of your day is going very well

BRIDGE
I don’t need to be a superman
Don’t need a shallow one night stand
Don’t need a pocket full of cash
I’ll just take a trip to sleepy land

VERSE 3
I dream about you every single night
I can’t tell you, because it isn’t right
You deserve every last of your comforts
My shy guy blues are my favorite cover
It’s okay if you think I’m just a coward
It’s okay if you don’t want to give me power
The shadows are my permanent address
For that, the two of us should feel blessed

Goddess of Hate


VERSE 1
You took a struggle for many and made it a big joke
Taking the biggest of shots at the biggest of folks
You’re no beauty yourself, you’re ugly as sin
Your war on the world is one you cannot win
Eighty percent of people don’t look like you
I bet that makes you want to boil and stew
We called you out and you hid from the limelight
Hated being knocked from your perch so sky high

CHORUS
Goddess of Hate! X4

VERSE 2
Beating your boyfriend must make you so tough
But when he puts you on blast, you’ve had enough
Projecting yourself when you call him a bitch
Claiming every story is about getting rich
He doesn’t need you or your jealous ways
He doesn’t need you to make his family prey
If there was ever a time for the phrase “lock her up”
It applies to you, you disgusting mother fuck

CHORUS
Goddess of Hate! X4

VERSE 3
Are you happy now? You got your attention
In the hall of shame, you got your due mention
But that’s okay, just flip the double birds again
I’m sure that will get you plenty of new friends

EXTENDED CHORUS
Goddess of Hate!
Sealed your fate!
Took your own bait!
Gotcha! Checkmate!
Goddess of Hate!
Throwing your weight!
Give us a break!
From all your hate!

Wednesday, May 16, 2018

Disaster Porn


OPENING DIALOGUE
ADULT: You know, Chud, Japan was hit with an earthquake, Haiti was hit with an earthquake, there are wars going on in Iraq and Afghanistan, there’s starvation happening all over Africa…and you’re complaining about your love life? Hyuk, hyuk, hyuk!

VERSE 1
Not once have I thought of a starving African teen
And had all my nightmares turn into sweet dreams
Not once have I pictured bullets flying in the desert
And had all my struggles turn into minimal effort
Not once have I envisioned a high Richter scale
And had all my bad thoughts crash and derail
It’s not perspective, it’s goddamn disaster porn
Making you feel guilty for the way you were born

CHORUS
It doesn’t matter if someone has it worse
The pain inside will always fucking burn
The bleeding heart will always fucking hurt
Perspective doesn’t help get us out of hell

VERSE 2
There’s no true answer to what we all need
Whether it’s exercising until our bodies bleed
Meditation until our minds have gone numb
A college schedule to prove we’re all dumb
Soap carving, basket weaving, clay sculptures
Something to remember when we get older
There’s no one solution for everybody here
Everybody’s different when it comes to fear

CHORUS
It doesn’t matter if someone has it worse
The pain inside will always fucking burn
The bleeding heart will always fucking hurt
Perspective doesn’t help get us out of hell

VERSE 3
If I had a child, I wouldn’t feed him world crises
I’d listen to his every word, that’s fucking likely
Have an open door policy even when he grows up
Soothe his anxiety when he wants to throw up
Soothe his traumas when there’s too much drama
Ease his mind when faith is hardest to find
Building up kids is easier than repairing adults
It could be too late to erase every last insult

CHORUS
It doesn’t matter if someone has it worse
The pain inside will always fucking burn
The bleeding heart will always fucking hurt
Perspective doesn’t help get us out of hell

CLOSING DIALOGUE
ADULT: You know, Chud, if you don’t want your dinner, I could always send it to China and…
CHILD: Shut the fuck up!

Tuesday, May 15, 2018

You Couldn't Pay Me Enough


VERSE 1
Take the blue pill and everything is chill
Take the red pill and you lose free will
Take the black pill and get your incel thrills
Take the green pill, say goodbye to your bills

CHORUS
You couldn’t pay me enough
To act limousine tough
To have it trust fund rough
You couldn’t pay me enough

VERSE 2
Why would I leave behind this life I’ve built?
Repeating your rhetoric would fill me with guilt
I won’t fire your guns, I won’t take your funds
I won’t drink the Kool-Aid, I’m not fucking afraid
I’d rather be poor than be a puppet on a string
I’d rather have a soul than some material things
I’d rather keep my word to flip the fucking bird
To anybody who wishes to watch me fucking burn

EXTENDED CHORUS 1
You couldn’t pay me enough
To act limousine tough
To have it trust fund rough
You couldn’t pay me enough
Everyone’s got a price
For acting cold as ice
Just for conservative love
You couldn’t pay me enough

VERSE 3
If everyone has a price, yours was pretty low
Lower than a hooker getting ready to blow
Lower than a dead body after death row
Lower than a meal for a hungry ass crow
You let the golden water put out your fire
You were so desperate to be the newest hire
Guns, religion, and xenophobic division
Babies born without the mother’s permission

EXTENDED CHORUS 2
You couldn’t pay me enough
To act limousine tough
To have it trust fund rough
You couldn’t pay me enough
Playing the role of bitch
Made you so goddamn rich
Whatever lullaby you love
You couldn’t pay me enough

Friday, May 11, 2018

"Wrestling, Issue Two" by What Culture


BOOK TITLE: Wrestling, Issue Two
AUTHORS: What Culture Staff
YEAR: 2016
GENRE: Nonfiction
SUBGENRE: Wrestling Bookzine
GRADE: Mixed

In all the time I’ve spent reviewing books online, I’ve never been more conflicted than after reading this one when deciding what grade to give it. I went into this wanting to give it four stars, maybe even five depending on how deeply the articles affected me. But then came the typographical errors, one after another until they stood out like a sore thumb.

Normally, I’m forgiving of these little mistakes as long as they don’t happen too often in the book. But at some point, I have to start holding the authors accountable and I think now is the time to do it. This bookzine clearly could have benefited from several pairs of fresh eyes when it came to editing. For Christ’s sake, James Dixon’s name was spelled Dioxn. CM Punk’s name was spelled with a lowercase P. And don’t ask me what Mssr is supposed to be, because I don’t know the answer myself. Bottom line: these guys need a more reputable editor.

But I’d be lying if I said those errors completely sucked the enjoyment I got out of reading this bookzine. The content itself is actually fun to read. Some of my favorite articles included Jack the Jobber’s analysis of Lucha Underground, King Ross’s Twitter responses, Axl Rotten’s biography, and Adam Blampied’s fantasy booking of Damien Sandow’s failed Money in the Bank cash-in.

The article about Lucha Underground reminded me a lot of a novella I wrote called Occupy Wrestling with its dark fantasy references and brutal matches. I’d watch the hell out of that show if I knew what channel it was on. Damn it, I want some cartoons and magic in my wrestling!

King Ross was his usual funny self when answering Twitter questions. My favorite response had to be his takedown of the Fastlane pay-per-view concept. “It’s the Fastlane to Wrestlemania! Most of your fans aren’t old enough to drive!” I got a good chuckle out of that one. I also liked his sarcastic butchery of the Divas Championship. Does anybody really mess a title belt with pink butterflies and stereotypical designs on it? Not really.

Axl Rotten’s story was easily the most heartbreaking of the entire bookzine. Here was a man who struggled with child abuse and drug addiction his whole life, but was really the most down-to-earth, sweetest guy anybody ever knew. His Axl Rotten persona was just a persona, nothing more, nothing less. He eventually died in 2016 from a drug overdose in a McDonald’s bathroom and it was before he had the chance to finish his own memoir.

And finally, sex scandal aside, I will always praise Adam Blampied’s storytelling abilities, especially as they relate to his fantasy booking of WWE angles. He actually is a bona fide creative writer, so he knows how to build tension and generate useful plot devices. In the case of Damien Sandow, he would be booked to be an arrogant authority figure who made the heroes miserable rather than be booked how he actually was in the real world: a jobber to everybody and their uncles.

This What Culture production is a must-read for any and all wrestling fans, typos be damned. Don’t let the three-star rating I’m giving it turn you away from the creativity and magic dripping from the pages. The guys at What Culture are hardworking, talented people and they deserve their slice of the literary pie. Enjoy!

Thursday, May 10, 2018

Beautiful Monster Play List


***BEAUTIFUL MONSTER PLAY LIST***

Because music has a powerful influence over me and my art, I thought it was only right to put together a ten-song play list for my current WIP, Beautiful Monster. Mind you, this isn’t music I use while writing it. I always listen to wordless new age music whenever I write so as not to get easily distracted (except when writing blogs, of course, in which case, I’ll listen to anything). The play list in question has more to do with the songs’ influences on the story. For some of the songs, I use their lyrics as dialogue, while others just seem to fit perfectly with the events. Enough gum flapping. Let’s get right to the first track! And for the sake of keeping everything organized, the songs will be listed in alphabetical order by their band name. Starting with…


***BRIAN KENNEDY: DRY YOUR EYES (COVER SONG)***

This song was originally done by Mike Skinner a.k.a. The Streets, but to be honest, I like the Brian Kennedy version better. Let’s look at the title for a moment: Dry Your Eyes. Being unable to cry in front of people is a common theme with Windham Xavier’s characterization. Yes, he’s a male. Yes, he’s a hardened warrior. According to society, both of those things make crying a social taboo. There are many times in the novel where Windham would have been justified in unleashing his biblical flood of tears, but he chooses not to because he doesn’t want to give his attackers a reason to humiliate him. He only saves his tears for those who truly deserve them.


***BULLET FOR MY VALENTINE: TEARS DON’T FALL***

Another song about being unable to cry? Sure, why not? Although since it’s Bullet For My Valentine, there’s going to be a lot of screaming and rage. This song could technically be a battle theme for when Windham goes up against Torger and Shelly. It’s heavy, it’s badass, and it gets across its message perfectly. And just to clarify, Torger and Shelly are deemed undeserving of Windham’s tears despite the fact that they’re the reason he feels the way he does.


***DELAIN: COME CLOSER***

The phrase “come closer” is used a lot in my novel whether it’s Shelly’s hypnotic voice seducing Windham into captivity or Tarja urging him to open up and bare his soul to her. I might even have one of the characters sing the lyrics to this song, I don’t know yet. “Winter shadow cools you, white before your eyes. Summer shadow soothes you, nothing on your mind.” I don’t know what it is about the winter/summer shadow lines, but those are my favorite in the whole song.


***NIGHTWISH: WHILE YOUR LIPS ARE STILL RED***

The dramatic tension within Beautiful Monster is clearly urging Windham and Tarja to love each other, so this Nighwish song is the perfect anthem for their eventual romance. “Kiss while your lips are still red.” It’s just a more loving way of saying “kiss before you die”. With Windham’s chaotic mind and suicidal thoughts, you don’t know how long this is all going to last for him. Even after hooking up with Tarja, he still has to tell his story of captivity to the Commander. It’s doubtful even Tarja’s loving gestures could help him out with that one considering how insensitive and cruel everybody at Paladin Cross seems to be.


***OTHERWISE: BEAUTIFUL MONSTER***

Of course, where would this story be without its namesake? The phrase Beautiful Monster accurately describes Shelly Atwood along with the woman she draws inspiration from, Lucy Butler from Millennium. They’re both attractive as hell. They’re both the epitome of all evil. The only difference is, Lucy’s seductive ways are a means to an end while Shelly’s seduction is the end game. Lucy wants to create an army of brainwashed mediocre teenagers while Shelly wants all the free sex she can handle. These brutal features are evident in the opening lyrics of the song: “There’s something about the way that she makes me hate myself. I could run away but I don’t want no one else. Say what you want. It’s already done. It’s Russian Roulette and love is the gun. You don’t know her, you don’t know her like I do.”


***PANTERA: THIS LOVE***

It’s pretty obvious by the story’s actions so far what will go down in chapter ten. I won’t say what exactly, but the writing is on the wall for Shelly Atwood. Her time is running out. And what will Windham say to her? “I’d kill myself for you! I’d kill you for myself!” Phil Anselmo sounds like a total badass when he says that in this song. Windham, though not as stereotypically male as Phil, will hopefully sound just as brooding and cold.


***THE POLICE: I BURN FOR YOU***

Hopefully, Windham will get the opportunity to sing this lovely song to Tarja, the one woman who deserves his tears. “Now that I have found you in the coolth of your evening smile. The shade of your parasol. And your love flows through me. Though I drink at your pool, I burn for you. You and I are lovers. As nighttime falls around our bed. In peace we sleep entwined as your love flows through me. Though and ocean sooths my head, I burn for you.” This is by far The Police’s most romantic song. I could listen to it over and over again and picture having a beautiful woman to sing it to. Okay, Garrison, let’s not get too ahead of ourselves here.


***SARA AYERS: ARE YOU COMING HOME?***

You know that meme that says, “Great writers steal”? Well, maybe I’ve taken that lesson too much to heart when it comes to this new age song, which can’t be found on You Tube unfortunately. The lyrics “crush the bones, burn the bodies” are what Windham sings to himself when he watches Shelly’s castle burn to the ground. The question “Where are you going, beautiful boy?” is also from that song, albeit said by Shelly during her seduction of Windham. There’s something powerful about Sara Ayers’ voice that makes any lyrics seem like pure heaven. That’s probably the point of her music.


***TOTO: I’LL BE OVER YOU***

Imagine having to sing this heartfelt breakup song to your female rapist. Luckily, Windham won’t have to do that. But the lyrics fit like OJ Simpson’s glove. “There were the nights holding you close. Someday I’ll try to forget them, as soon as my heart stops breaking, anticipating. As soon as forever is through, I’ll be over you.” No kidding, Windam. No fucking kidding!


***WITHIN TEMPTATION: FROZEN***

No, I’m not talking about the Disney princess song. I’m talking about a Within Temptation song dealing with the topic of domestic violence. Sharon Den Adel sings about how she can’t feel her senses, how she can only feel the cold. That’s what Windham feels when he’s watching the castle burn, as entertained by it as he is. That’s what psychological trauma does to the human brain: it dulls the senses and makes zombies out of the sharpest minds. Poor Windham. Poor, poor Windham.


***CONCLUSION***

So that’s all I have for you today. If you have any other ideas for what you’d like to see added to this list, let me know in the comments section. You can even go on You Tube and check out the songs that are on the list now (save for the Sara Ayers song, because it’s not there). I’m Garrison Kelly! Even when you feel like dying, keep climbing the mountain!


***PUBLIC DIALOGUE OF THE DAY***

CHOIR TEACHER: Our next song that we’re going to perform is called “Didn’t My Lord Deliver Daniel”.

JAMES: (doing a blunt affect Garrison voice) I hate religious songs.

GARRISON: Hahahahaha!

Thursday, May 3, 2018

"A Day in the Life of Marlon Bundo" by Jill Twiss


BOOK TITLE: A Day in the Life of Marlon Bundo
AUTHOR: Jill Twiss
YEAR: 2018
GENRE: Fiction
SUBGENRE: LGBT Children’s Book
GRADE: Extra Credit

In the stuffiest room in the white house, there lived Marlon Bundo, a lovable bunny rabbit whose grandpa is the dull and boring Vice President Mike Pence. Feeling lonely in his little room, Marlon hops out into the garden and meets another beautiful male bunny named Wesley. The two rabbits fall in love and decide to get married so that they can hop everywhere forever. The only thing stopping them is the strict rule of Mr. Stink Bug (an obvious Mike Pence parody), who says that boy bunnies can only marry girl bunnies. Only when the creatures of the garden come together for a democratic vote can Marlon and Wesley show Mr. Stink Bug that love trumps hate.

If you’re a regular viewer of Last Week Tonight with John Oliver like I am, you’ll know exactly why this book was published: to screw with hard-right homophobe Mike Pence. Anytime that the LGBT community gets to shine its brightest colors is a good day for the world at large. There’s too much bullying and hatred against these poor folks, so any victory they achieve in the name of social justice should be celebrated. What better way to celebrate than with a cute and cuddly gay wedding between two sweethearted bunny-pies?

Speaking of things that are cute and cuddly, that’s another aspect of this book that will earn critical acclaim. Your smile will get bigger and goofier when you see Wesley and Marlon hopping around together like sweet little bunnies should. The other garden animals from the puppy-duppy to the turtle will also steal your heart. And then when the wedding finally happens, you’ve got little mice and porcupines dressed up in their Sunday best, which always looks adorable. You’ll be saying “aww” throughout the entire book. Not even the inner ugliness of Mr. Stink Bug will ruin your experience because once again, love trumps hate and his hateful ways won’t last forever.

So now that we’ve got our LGBT pride and cuteness nailed down, the only other thing to discuss is how important democracy is, since it plays a vital role in the book’s ending. I know there are times when democracy seems dead as a doornail. I know we don’t always like our choices between candidates. I know the people in power like to make voting difficult for the less fortunate. I know it seems like elections can be bought and sold like Wal-Mart goodies. But just like in this book, the power of your vote is more urgent now than it has ever been. If you don’t vote, the Mr. Stink Bugs of the world will.

One hundred percent of the profits from this book will be donated to LGBT charities specializing in suicide prevention and AIDS research. Even if you don’t have children of your own, you’ll still enjoy this book to its fullest extent for all of the reasons I’ve listed above. If on the other hand you do have children, let them know that being different is okay and should be celebrated rather than feared. Nobody is truly alone in this world despite the negative pressure dictating otherwise. An extra credit grade will go to this beautifully crafted book with a positive message and cuddly characters.

Creative Crossroads


***CREATIVE CROSSROADS***

Creatively, I have most of the things I could ever want as an author. I have six published books which are doing moderately well as far as reviews go. I have eight rough drafts which could be turned into awesome books under the right guidance. I have other creative outlets which give me the online attention I need as an author. But as far as marketing and putting myself out there go, I could be doing a lot more. I repeat: a LOT more. So I’ve decided to make a list of marketing techniques that will no doubt get me more views and book buys. Starting with…

  1. Build a street team to promote my books (that’s a lot of fucking people)
  2. Build a website (seems easy enough, right?)
  3. Convert my Face Book page to an author’s profile (which means calling myself Author Garrison Kelly instead of using my real name)
  4. Enlist the help of extra beta readers and editors (Ashley Uzzell is fantastic, don’t get me wrong, but getting multiple opinions is important to a book’s success)
  5. Enroll in Skill Share classes about marketing (Jenna Moreci has an awesome one, I just need to sign up for Skill Share)
  6. Find a time during the day where I have complete privacy from my family members and the phone (probably late at night, most likely)
  7. Get a twitter account (fourth time is a charm, right?)
  8. Get an Instagram account (even though it’s a veritable troll’s nest)
  9. Get video editing software (for that special time of day when I’m brave enough to shoot You Tube clips)
  10. Learn how to shoot videos on my digital camera (actually, I know how to do it, I just need the confidence to be in front of the judgmental lens)
  11. Rent advertising space online

I have the time and funds to do pretty much all of these things (most of them are dirt cheap). So if these are the answers to my marketing problems, why am I not taking these steps right away? Well, that’s where the crossroads part of this blog entry comes from. I’ve been putting off discussing this topic for a while now, because I don’t want to be inaccurately perceived as lazy or uncaring.

The thing is, though, I’m not the kind of person who jumps into decision making right away. I’ve made a lot of shitty decisions in my life and I’m cautious about going back to those stressful days. Going to Western Washington University gave me the degree I needed to solidify my writing career, but being away from my family and friends that long made going to college one of the worst decisions in my life. I’ve applied for writing jobs that turned out to be creativity crushers and stress magnets. I’ve traveled to places that turned out to be shitty vacation destinations at best. I could go on and on when it comes to long-term decisions that have gone sour.

When it comes to book marketing, the worst that could happen is undue stress, which doesn’t seem like a big deal on the surface. But when you consider that I’m operating on a schizophrenic and autistic brain, stress is my worst enemy. To hear other authors describe the marketing process makes it sound like they’re having their teeth pulled. I’ve even heard one author describe it as working at least five hours a day. I’ve heard another describe it as eight hours. Or twelve. Or more. On top of all these marketing chores, they also have to write every single day in order to stay sharp. That’s a lot of responsibilities and it can get overwhelming.

Here’s where I’ve come to a crossroad. On one hand, I can keep doing what I’m doing and live comfortably for the time being, but my career would be stagnant forever. On the other hand, I could take all these necessary steps and throw myself into the fire, where the risk is schizophrenic and autistic stress and the reward is being well-known in the world of writing. It seems like an easy decision to an outsider, but when you’ve got my mind and my circumstances, it’s a decision that I can’t take lightly like I have the other ones in my life (which ended up being poor choices).

I know I talk about making bad decisions all the time, but this time, it could determine where I go from here as a writer. Do I live comfortably and go nowhere or do I overwhelm myself and have a slightly better chance at rising above mediocrity? And don’t think for a minute that this has anything to do with being a “snowflake” or a “momma’s boy” or whatever the case may be. It’d just be nice to have a safety net to catch me when things go haywire, that’s all.

I’m Garrison Kelly! As soon as forever is through, I’ll be over you!


***FAMILY DIALOGUE OF THE DAY***

REINA: Garrison, no sleeping at the table. You’re not five anymore.

JAMES: He’s just mad because we’re not talking about barbarians and wizards.

GARRISON: That’s not all I write about!

JAMES: Yes, it is!

REINA: He also writes about necromancers and scatomancers.

JAMES: Those are wizards too.

GARRISON: You’re stereotyping me!


***POST-SCRIPT***

This coming Friday, I’m going to Seattle to watch Papa Roach put on a live show, with Nothing More and Escape the Fate as their opening acts. It’ll be my third time seeing Papa Roach live, but it’ll be my first time seeing the other two bands. I’ve especially wanted to see Nothing More live since they always put on elaborate performances. I’ll try to get my creative work done before the night of the concert, but no promises.