Linda McMahon: the Raw Sewage in the McMahon Family Gene Pool

 

Portal of Evil: Abusers of the 1st Amendment, Victims of Their Own Stupidity

 

Play stupid games, win stupid prizes. To paraphrase Iggy Pop, Portal of Evil was "worth a million in stupid prizes". Rest in Piss, losers.

Social Media Vacation

Hey, everyone. Starting tonight, I’m going to take a two-week vacation from social media. This includes Good Reads, Deviant Art, Face Book, Twitter, and You Tube. I’m hoping this will help recalibrate me after spending so much time doom-scrolling and consuming horrible news. If it’s affecting my mental health in the way I think it is, then two weeks away will be sufficient. When I eventually return, I’m probably going to have an ass-ton of notifications on all of my sites. I won’t be able to answer them all if that’s the case. Thanks for understanding and I’ll see you again on July 18th. Until then, take care, everyone.

"Sunstone, Vol. 1" by Stjepan Sejic

BOOK TITLE: Sunstone, Vol. 1

AUTHOR: Stjepan Sejic

YEAR: 2018

GENRE: Graphic Novel

SUBGENRE: BDSM Erotica

GRADE: A

People generally don’t mind sexualized characters as long as they’re three-dimensional beings and not cardboard cutouts. Lisa and Ally are definitely not in the cardboard cutout category. In addition to being lesbian friends with benefits, they’ve got hobbies, lives, and ambitions of their own. Lisa wants to be a successful author and Ally wants to play videogames and destroy her opponents (button mashing aside). Their biggest flaw as characters is their shyness and awkwardness around each other, which is something we all can relate to at some point or another. They want so badly to become more than just friends, but they tiptoe around the issue so much that it seems impossible. You know what else makes them three-dimensional? They’re good people any reader would want to hang around with. They have funny banter, deep conversations, and they actually know not to exceed each other’s limits when it comes to their adult fun time. Which leads me to my next point about the graphic novel…

The BDSM is portrayed as a healthy relationship dynamic rather than as toxicity masquerading as romance. The author of the Fifty Shades trilogy desperately needs to take notes from this book. Lisa has a safe word (where the Sunstone title comes from), she establishes boundaries (which are respected by Ally), and after the adult fun time is over, they have something called “after care”, which is basically lovey-dovey cuddling to bring the emotional rollercoaster to a halt. Either the author is a BDSM nerd himself or he’s a fantastic researcher. Regardless, he knows exactly what he’s doing when it comes to his craft. I don’t get that sense when I read Fifty Shades of Grey. If you can’t write what you know, then at least put the time in and do your research so that you don’t sound like a doofus when you put words to paper. Yes, I realize I’m a massive hypocrite for saying that considering I’ve been called out for poor research techniques myself, but it’s all part of the learning process. Some lessons have to be learned the hard way. But it appears as though Stjepan Sejic is an expert in what he’s talking about, so I trust him to put together a cohesive story, three-dimensional characters and all.

And of course, if an author is going to write an erotica story, it better be hotter than Hawaiian weather. Thus, we have another thing that the author nails perfectly. It isn’t just that the MC’s are lesbians or that they love BDSM. It’s that despite their awkwardness, they manage to have a good time with each other, to the point where they keep seeing each other despite their shy tendencies. I won’t go into detail how these sex scenes play out for obvious reasons, but rest assured that you won’t forget what you see, and I don’t mean that in a traumatic way. On the contrary, these scenes are very much welcome in the human brain and can stay there for as long as they’d like. It doesn’t come off like a raunchy video you’d find on the darkest parts of the internet. It feels legitimate, which is another indicator that Sejic knows exactly what he’s doing. I like authors who know what they’re doing. It’s so refreshing. Again, take notes, E.L. James!

While characters can be as flawed as the authors want them to be, I couldn’t find a single flaw in the story itself. There was nothing overly offensive or grammatically inept in this book at all. Maybe the only people who would find this offensive are pearl-clutching puritans, but that’s not the target audience and I wouldn’t want to read a story where they are. Everything is healthy, everything is sane, and I walked away from this story in a much better place than before I went into it. This graphic novel gets a perfect five stars out of five. It definitely makes me want to read the rest of the Sunstone series, however many volumes there are.

Heath Riggs the Clumsy Cowboy

 The sum’bitch who said hanging on isn’t a good thing never had to worry about their equilibrium over a mud pit. Have you ever tried to wash mud and pig shit off of clothing with nothing but a Tide Pod and a spinning machine? Neither of those stains are coming out without a fight. But it was a battle that Heath Riggs was not prepared or willing to fight. When I was contacted on Deviant Art in early 2011 for an RP request, I figured it would be some nice D&D fun with orcs chopping off elves’ heads and gnomes picking the pockets of arrogant kings who sat their asses on purple cushions. Unfortunately, it turned out to be anything but.

My recollection of this particular role-playing session is fuzzy at best, but maybe that’s not such a bad thing. I don’t remember this woman’s name nor do I remember the name of her character. No, I’m not just protecting her identity, I seriously don’t remember. All I know was that she was so adamant about me getting a Yahoo Messenger account so that we could do this in real time instead of posting it as messages on a board somewhere. 

Without coming off as rude, she did have a bit of an aggressive streak when it came to asking for this role-play. She MUST know when I’m available to play. She MUST know how she can reach me. She MUST know why I’m having trouble accessing a Yahoo account I haven’t touched since the W administration. Red flag city, here I come. Come to think of it, I do believe there is a place where red flags are prominent. John Cena knows of this place since he had to apologize to their government for calling Taiwan a country.

So what was the premise of this role-play that the mysterious woman was so desperate to get out of me? What could possibly be so important to require my writing skills and RPG knowledge? Is it a trip to outer space to shoot lasers at aliens? Is it a dungeon crawl that involves throwing axes and shooting arrows at fire-breathing dragons? Is it a wrestling RPG where Triple H is serving up sledgehammer shots and graveyard burials like he didn’t steal the latter gimmick from The Undertaker? No, no, no, not even close. She wanted this role-play to take place on a cattle ranch. She was the farm girl, I was the cowboy known as Heath Riggs. Why Heath Riggs? Because I chose it and she was okay with it. Heath reminded her of Heath Ledger’s role in Brokeback Mountain and Riggs reminded her of pickup trucks in the rural area in which the RPG took place.

Unfortunately, Heath Riggs’s name was the only badass thing about him. As the newest cowboy at the farm girl’s ranch, he came off as awkward to be in conversations with. Okay, not so bad just yet. I’m an awkward conversationalist in real life, so it’s bound to come out in my role-playing of Heath’s character. He and the farm girl talked about his newbie status. They talked about his past employment. They talked about his past relationships. They talked about how this totally ranks low on the weirdest experiences Heath has ever had. I don’t have a script with me, so this is the best I can do as far as show don’t tell goes. Pretty mundane stuff in the lives of socially weird people. Not exciting at all. The cowboy in question wasn’t of the Sergio Leone variety. He was just a guy who fiddle-fucked around with the animals.

And then…from out of nowhere…my role-playing partner decides that Heath Riggs will slip on a puddle of mud and pig shit and get his clothes stained beyond recognition. I didn’t decide it. She did. Her character laughed like she just watched an episode of America’s Funniest Home Videos. Come to think of it, if this happened in real life, it would probably take home the grand prize on that show. Maybe with the winning purse, Heath wouldn’t have to work at a mediocre ranch anymore! But until then…another slip in the mud (which sounds like a Pink Floyd song if they played country instead of classic rock). And another. And another. And another. Heath looked like his candy bar namesake, but less appetizing. Nobody would be eating him that afternoon, least of all the giggling farm girl.

Obviously, I wasn’t having a good time in this RP. I almost fell asleep on multiple occasions. My butt was numb. My jaw was clenched tightly. I needed to get the hell out of that Yahoo chat room. I finally told the woman that I had to get going for the day and secretly hoped she wouldn’t chew me out over it. She was aggressive enough in getting me to role-play with her in the first place, so why wouldn’t she be possessive over my spare time like an obsessed yandere? But to my surprise, she was understanding. We said our goodbyes in a way that was just as uneventful as it would have been for Heath Riggs and the nameless farm girl.

Now…one thing you need to understand about me is that I had and still to an extent have a hard time saying no to people when I’m feeling uncomfortable. It could be a trauma response, but agreeing to unsavory conditions to keep the peace was what I did best back in 2011. I was never prepared to deal with getting yelled at or being made to look like the bad guy for standing up for myself. Maybe it’s because I didn’t have a lot of friends growing up and keeping friendships was too important to me, even if they weren’t healthy ones. Even as I type this, I realize that I’d rather be lonely than share a space with toxic people. The woman in question wasn’t what I’d consider toxic, but I did have qualms about telling her that the RP wasn’t working out. I ghosted her for weeks on end. I didn’t go anywhere near Yahoo Messenger.

I dreaded the day when she would eventually contact me on Deviant Art and ask me where the hell I was. I knew it was coming. I knew I couldn’t get through 2011 without having to face that day. So when she finally asked where I was, I took a chance. I told her the RP wasn’t working out for me. I told her that I preferred fast-paced adventures like the D&D campaigns promised. I told her that it wasn’t anything against her. I told her that Heath Riggs’s clumsy cowboy gimmick was boring me to tears. I was expecting to get chewed out like a wad of bubblegum. I was expecting to look more villainous than Voldemort and Dolores Umbridge put together.

But instead…she understood where I was coming from. No grudge. No backlash. No venom of any kind. She understood and it was okay with her that I didn’t want to continue. I gave her a digital hug and the two of us went our separate ways. The name Heath Riggs would eventually be recycled into a debt collector character in a cyberpunk short story who went on a local news show to spill industry secrets and make the pervy anchor look like a buffoon on live TV. There was no real reason for him to be named Heath Riggs other than the fact that it sounded cool. There was no Brokeback Mountain reference. There was no need for an eighteen-wheeler. Just a guy named Heath who betrayed the debt-collection industry by exposing their greatest weaknesses. At least Heath didn’t slip in pig shit this time, although, one would argue that the news anchor more than qualified for the role of pig shit.

The lesson of the day, my young grasshoppers, is to speak up when you’re uncomfortable. It takes a lot of bravery to do in the face of kind people. It takes even more bravery to do it in the presence of your family and friends. But if they don’t know, then nothing will change. Yes, you may be labeled a villain for saying no. But the bigger question is, why isn’t the other person a villain for forcing you into a situation you don’t want to be in? You’re chaotic neutral at worst, but the pushy bastards who want to keep you under their thumb are fifty shades of lawful evil. 

You can wear the dark cloak, but they can wear the QAnon shaman furs. And besides, what’s the worst that could happen to you for playing the role of villain? You’ll have fewer friends, sure, but being on your own is better than being surrounded by toxic assholes. At least you’re good company. At least the darkness of your solitude will give you some cool rumination. A toxic asshole will give you trauma and heartache, neither of which are worth retaining for their comfort.

This is a lesson I have yet to learn myself even though I’m preaching it like a mega-church wing-nut. I haven’t prepared myself for ultimate loneliness. Maybe it’s something I should talk with a therapist about. Maybe when I do, I can bring up the Heath Riggs example as to why it’s beneficial for me to stand up for myself. For some toxic people, I’m risking not only a lack of friendship, but sometimes a beating and ridicule. You know what? Put me in the ICU for all I care. I’ll get the best medical treatment I’ve ever had while you’re rotting in a prison cell. As it turns out, taking toxicity too far is fucking illegal. I’m not worth going to prison over, no matter who you are. You think losing my friendship is lonely for you? Prison is lonelier. It lasts longer, too. So, bring it on, world!

It's a Free World

***IT’S A FREE WORLD***

Your writing career can be an amazing time in your life full of magic, adventure, and wonder, not unlike the worlds you create through your craft. But at the same time, it isn’t all rainbows and Skittles. More like Martian death rays and dick. Sooner or later, you as a writer will have to come to terms with the fact that criticism is inevitable, whether it’s constructive feedback from your beta readers or malicious trolling from a faceless bastard. Does it hurt no matter how well-intentioned it is? Always. It’s like saying the sun’s going to come up tomorrow. Everybody knows that. We all feel at least some sensitivity when it comes to what we produce. To be fair, your career won’t rise or fall based on one bad review or even a hundred. How you react to those reviews? That’s a little closer to a career killer if you’re too aggressive.

While I still get anxious feelings in my gut at the thought of being judged, I’m not anywhere close to being as bad at taking criticism as I was all throughout the 2000’s. I was a fucking monster when it came to responding to my critics. That’s part of the reason why I consider the 2000’s to be the hardest decade of my life: because I wouldn’t let anybody teach me how to better myself. I incorrectly assumed my critics were out to play with my brain like silly putty and mold me into something I’m not. Being a soul-dead conformist is bad. Being a better artist and a better person is something we should all strive for. So I guess I would be conforming to commonsense and decency, by that definition.

My first “traumatic episode” with criticism came in 2001, where I attended an anime/sci-fi/fantasy convention called INCON. One of the attractions at this event was having your manuscript critiqued by five different professional authors. What did I submit to this critique session? A Starcraft rip-off known as The Earth Campaign, which sounds more like an eco-terrorist group than a legitimate space opera. The first pro-author’s main complaint was that there weren’t enough visuals in my writing, a.k.a. not enough showing and too much telling. The second pro-author’s complaint was that my characters were making stupid decisions.

Basically, my manuscript TOLD the audience that a space rebel scissor kicked a glass pod and almost broke his ankle rather than opening it a reasonable way, thus he was “thinking with his gonads”. Mild sexism aside, I walked away after the first two authors said their peace and was a teary mess for the rest of the night. I sang Pink Floyd songs on the fire exit for good measure. I had it in my head that the only reason I had fight scenes at all in my book was because of my male organs and not because I genuinely like that stuff. Well-intentioned criticism, but I took it the wrong way and that set the tone for the rest of the 2000’s.

Fast forward to 2004 where I took a creative writing class at Olympic College. Admittedly, this was not a safe, nurturing environment for any author because the students had no limits on the harshness of their criticisms. If they wanted to insult me, they could. If they wanted to destroy my self-esteem, they could go nuts. That’s exactly what happened when I wrote a medieval fantasy story where a witch hunter tried to recruit an acrobatic thief into his guild, to no success whatsoever. The chapter ended with a guerrilla army hiding under a pile of leaves springing to life in an attempt to test the acrobat’s kung fu skills. Yes, those were real errors in my story. Everyone in the class had all criticisms for me and no praise, a stark contrast to other authors who got at least some praise.

The worst of my criticisms came from a guy who simply said my story “sucked”. No context. No reasons. Just that it “sucked”. To be fair to him, it did, anachronisms and telling instead of showing aside. While I regret not taking my criticism in an appropriate way, I wouldn’t have developed my newfound skills as a poet if this didn’t happen. I wrote an insult poem about the guy who said my story sucked, where I detailed all the ways in which I would fuck his female relatives while comparing him to a Lord of the Rings hobbit. The poem was rubbish, but it was good start. Sucking at something is the first step to being sort of good at something.

Whether I was getting bad grades in college or negative comments on Deviant Art, my descent into madness spiraled out of control for the rest of the 2000’s. I screamed at my Deviant Art critics and wrote more angry poetry about them, detailing how I would once again fuck their female relatives while comparing them to people with Down’s Syndrome and sewer mutants. I silently seethed when one of my creative writing teachers gave me a C in her class despite me following her orders not to write R-rated offensiveness. So much anger and rage built up inside of me that taking any sort of mild criticism would result in the tongue-lashing from hell.

And then the 2000’s climaxed with the worst of the worst, both in terms of my own crass behavior and also in terms of the criticism I’ve received on Deviant Art. Two days after Christmas in 2009, I opened my inbox to find that several Deviants were angry about a comedic essay I wrote called “Class of ‘13”, named after Green Day lyrics. In this essay, I fantasized about being an autocratic schoolteacher who would whip my students if they talked like “text-messaging queens” in their creative writing projects. I derided an entire generation for growing up with technology, basically condemning myself as a 24-year-old Boomer.

I eventually deleted my essay and apologized, but not before I screamed at my critics to “get in a circle and butt fuck each other”. I also wrote an angry poem about one of these critics where I told him to “drink gasoline”. As one critic so rightfully put it, “Change or die!” From that day on, I decided no online battle was worth fighting because fighting never solved anything. Nobody changed their mind because I told them to “suck a dick” or “eat my shit”. When given the choice to change or die, I chose to change. The battering my mind took wasn’t worth it, but it was just what I needed.

While the 2000’s were the hardest decade of my life, the 2010’s were the easiest. Sure, I had my fair share of shitty moments, but the way I responded to criticism was much better. I knew my writing career was stagnating. Nothing of mine was getting published and why would it? My work was mediocre at best and a dumpster fire at worst. Accepting criticism and sometimes shelling out money for it was the only way out of spinning my wheels. The more people I let in, the happier I was and the stronger my writing became. I’ve made many friends along the way and I wouldn’t trade any of them for the world. I’ve gotten a few shitty reviews on my self-published books, but I’ve also gotten some good ones.

While improvement is a necessary part of one’s writing career, it won’t change the fact that nobody is above criticism despite how far they’ve come. That’s something you’re going to have to be okay with if you want a successful career. It’s 2020 and I’ve learned my lessons. In the end, we don’t just live in a “free country”. We live in a free world. Whether you live in America, Canada, England, or even Saudi Arabia, you have the right to say whatever you want about my writing and I won’t hound you for it.

Bad reviews won’t derail somebody’s career; a lack of humility will. I sincerely believe Norman Boutin could have had a successful career despite Empress Theresa being boring as hell, if only he didn’t lash out at everyone who criticized his work. Hell, if he had accepted criticism gracefully, he probably wouldn’t have a boring book to begin with. Same thing goes for Ann Fishman, Onision (sexual crimes be damned), and whoever wrote My Immortal (the Harry Potter fan fiction, not the Evanescence song).

Does criticism hurt? Absolutely. It always will. But do you have to react poorly to it? Never. Hell, you can flat out ignore the trolling if you want. You can even block some of the trolls if they get to be too much. But the louder you scream, the louder the world screams back at you. Isn’t that right, Donald the Magic Dumbass? I’m Garrison Kelly! Until next time, try to enjoy the daylight!

***INTERNET DIALOGUE OF THE DAY***

(Circa 2018)

ASHLEY: Oh my god, Garrison! I need to convince you to get a Pay Pal account!

GARRISON: In the words of that Steven Crowder meme, “Change my mind.”

ASHLEY: Dude, mailing checks is so 1995.

GARRISON: Congratulations, you’ve won.

ASHLEY: Yay!

***POST-SCRIPT***

See what happens when you accept other people’s advice? You get a PayPal account AND a healthy writing career!

Jealousy

***JEALOUSY***

In the age of social media, it’s easier than ever to compare and contrast yourself to other people. When you see one of your friends on Face Book getting married, you wonder why it’s not happening to you. When you see a Deviant Art buddy getting an ass-load of faves, you wonder why you don’t have any at all, let alone any views. When you see a Good Reads author achieve an average rating of 4:5 stars on one of their novels, you wonder why yours is below the 3.0 mark. The more we subject ourselves to this kind of comparative thinking, the more depressed we become. The easy solution would be to just stop comparing your life progress to your friends.

In the words of whoever sang the theme to Kingdom Hearts, “I don’t think life is quite that simple.” In the writing world, jealousy works both ways. I’ve had authors be jealous of me and I’ve been jealous of other authors. It’s perfectly natural to feel this way as long as it doesn’t consume you and turn you against the people you love. But that’s the thing: it is all consuming. It does eat away at the soul. I even have examples from my own life to prove this.

There are plenty of reasons to be jealous of another writer, but the one thing I envy above all others is the ability to write god knows how many words in the span of one day. Or one hour. Or half an hour. Or fifteen minutes. I get on Face Book all the time and see that this author is bragging about writing fifty thousand words in the span of a week, thus completing their novel. This author I speak of has an ass-load of books to their name too, each with high ratings on Good Reads and Amazon, so it’s not like any of this hard work is going to waste. Me? I consider myself lucky if I’m in the mental state to write a five-paragraph review for a forty page book. My foggy state of mind is a constant source of ire for me, so when I see other authors pumping out novels like hotcakes, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t jealous.

And then there were times when other authors were jealous of me (I can’t imagine why). Those who have followed me on social media for a long time know that I like to write blog entries about vacations I’m going on or rock concerts I’m attending. Last year in 2018, I’ve been to eight different concerts. This year, I’ve already seen three and I have four more in the future. And yes, I’m as braggadocios as the Face Book author who boasts about writing a gazillion words in three days, or whatever the statistic was. Going to rock concerts is something not everyone can afford to do on a regular basis, whether it has to do with work/school schedules, family emergencies, physical disabilities, or just not having enough money for it. So I’m going to try my damnedest to keep my concert talk to a minimum. I’ll still post them as life events on Face Book, but that’s all you’ll get from me.

While it is natural to feel jealous of other people in your life, the one thing you should never wish for is to swap lives with your friends or family. The one thing we all have in common is our pain. When you ask to swap lives with someone you’re jealous of, you take the bad with the good. Suppose you’re jealous of a friend who got married during a seven day trip at Universal Studios. That sounds like a shit-load of fun, but there’s a whole lot going on with that person that you don’t know about. He could be depressed and hiding it really well. He could have mountains of college debt. He could be a pariah in his neighborhood. Just because you see the best version of another person on social media, doesn’t mean you should wish for his life. Everyone has their pain and we all deal with it in our own unique way.

I don’t talk about my personal pain a lot on social media, so when I do it this time around, I hope it’ll ease some of the jealousy you have of my concerts, vacations, or whatever else is going on. You all know by now that I’m schizophrenic, overweight, and constantly tired all the time, right? Now here are some things you probably don’t know. I’ve been unemployed all of my life (except for volunteer work). My mother is having severe mobility issues and needs a walker to get around. I don’t know how to drive a car nor do I own one myself, so I’m confined to my bedroom most of the time. I’m painfully shy in big social situations, so my friends in this town are few and far between. My brother is dealing with bipolar disorder and had a few breakdowns recently. Okay, that’s enough for now. This isn’t a pain contest, but you get what I’m saying. You don’t want my life and I don’t want yours. We all have our own stories to tell and our own destinies going forward. Let it be that way.

If you’re going to be jealous of another person, don’t let it consume your life. The one thing authors need to remember is that we’re one big family who helps each other during the toughest times. This isn’t a competitive field. This is a tag team main event. That’s why I didn’t use names when I gave examples of jealousy, because those people are my friends through and through and I don’t want to paint them in a negative light. We can get shit done together if we put our minds to it. What’s that I always say at the end of my blog entries? Oh yeah, it’s…even when you feel like dying, keep climbing the mountain!

***LYRICS OF THE DAY***

“You’re giving me too many things. Lately, you’re all I need. You smiled at me and said, “Don’t get me wrong, I love you, but does that mean I have to meet your father?” When we are older, you’ll understand what I meant when I said, “No, I don’t think life is quite that simple.” The daily things that keep us all busy are confusing me. That’s when you came to me and said, “Wish I could prove I love you, but does that mean I have to walk on water?” When we are older, you’ll understand it’s enough when I say so. And maybe some things are that simple. When you walk away, you don’t hear me say, “Please! Oh baby, don’t go!” Simple and clean is the way that you’re making me feel tonight. It’s hard to let it go. Hold me. Whatever lies beyond this morning is a little later on. Regardless of warnings, the future doesn’t scare me at all. Nothing’s like before.”

-“Simple and Clean” from Kingdom Hearts-

Why I Post My Works Online

***WHY I POST MY WORKS ONLINE***

As a published author who wants to make money off of my work, it would seem counterintuitive to post my writing online for the public so they can read it for free. It’s the old Napster argument all over again. Why spend money on an album/book/movie when you can have it for free? Will you buy the whole thing if you like bits and pieces of the medium? Some would argue this is a great marketing tool for anybody who doesn’t have the corporate machine backing them. Case in point, rapper Immortal Technique.

At the end of the day, I don’t do it for the marketing. I could be doing it for the constructive feedback and although it’s nice to have it, it’s also not the main reason why I post online. In order to understand why I do this, we have to use the Napster example yet again. Two words: free storage. That’s right. Why would I want to pay X number of dollars to store my writing and art when Deviant Art and Face Book will do it for free? These public forums are hardly my only means of storage since I have three flash drives and also use my email accounts to store my shit. Maybe I’m just paranoid about keeping my art safe.

Just think of how badly it would suck if a project you worked on for years, maybe even decades, was suddenly erased by bullshit means. I take that same approach to my own art and back it up in as many ways as I can. Deviant Art, Face Book, Blogger, Good Reads, Wattpad, god knows what else. But the biggest drawback to this is that if I have to edit a piece of writing for a small error of some kind, that means I have to visit all of those sites and make that change. And then I find another small error. And another. And I have to visit those sites over and over again. Ultimately, I pick my battles and only edit my works on Deviant Art and Wattpad. Besides, I still have my email addresses and flash drives, so it’s not a huge deal.

I don’t have a whole lot to say aside from that. Goddamn, I really didn’t think this blog through, did I? I’m Garrison Kelly! Even when you feel like dying, keep climbing the mountain!

***LYRICS OF THE DAY***

“I’ve been mad for fucking years. Absolutely years. Been over the edge for yonks. Been working my buns off for bands. I’ve always been mad. I know I’ve been mad. Like most of us, it’s very hard to explain why you’re mad, even when you’re not mad.”

-Dialogue from “Speak to Me” by Pink Floyd-

Author Interviews and Guest Blogs

***AUTHOR INTEVIEWS AND GUEST BLOGS***

I’m not going to lie to you guys: I haven’t done enough when it comes to giving back to the writing community. Sure, I always write book reviews for fellow authors and I’ve made a permanent critique buddy out of Marie Krepps, but I haven’t done much beyond that. I suppose this could be remedied by following other authors on Good Reads, Deviant Art, and Blogger, but then I get “overwhelmed” by all of the reading assignments that come with this. And by overwhelmed, I mean that I puss out because I’m feeling mentally exhausted that day. One day of exhaustion turns to another. And another. And another.

That makes my offer to you, my lovely audience, not much of a guarantee for your success. You might get a few hits on your social media pages, but I can’t make any promises that you’ll be the toast of the town. But if you want to take up my offer, I’d be more than happy to help you out. It’s time I stopped chickening out and own up to my responsibilities to the world. My offer is this: if you’d like me to interview you or if you want to write a guest post on my blogs, all you have to do is ask. Each interview will consist of ten questions about your creative life in general, though they won’t be the same for every author. As far as guest posts go, I have to approve the topic beforehand, which of course means no racist, sexist, homophobic, or otherwise bigoted statements.

It’s not the biggest offer in the world, but I’d like to think it’s a start. Sometimes we just need to be shown where the starting mark is. And while I’m making an attempt to lionize the authors in my life, here are some people you should follow on You Tube for writing advice: Jenna Moreci, Ellen Brock, J.P. Beaubien, and Vivien Reis. I like Jenna Moreci because she’s sassy and unafraid when it comes to her swear word-laced rants. Plus, I have a special place in my heart for cyborg queens. Ellen Brock is a professional editor with some intimate knowledge of the publishing business, so when she corrects you, you’d better listen. Vivien Reis is also a limitless supply of wisdom when she gives her advice. Plus, she has puppy-duppies that appear in the background of her videos. Aww! And then we come to Mr. Beaubien, whose You Tube channel is aptly called Terrible Writing Advice. His delivery is satirical and sarcastic, but his message of how important it is to research your topics beforehand is loud and clear.

And of course, where would an author-praising blog post be without talking about the one and only Babe-a-Licious Mondo, Marie Krepps (adult fiction) a.k.a. Ashley Uzzell (children’s fiction). I could butter this woman up all day long like corn on the cob or an English muffin. When she gives you writing advice or when she critiques your work, wake the fuck up. She’s funny, she’s wise, and she’s an all-around sweethearted person with the right amount of sass. Unfortunately, she doesn’t have a Face Book account anymore, because let’s face it, one can only take so much political and bigoted bullshit and Face Book has plenty of that in spades. Not to worry: she still has a Good Reads and Twitter account. She also has a blog and a website, but I forgot the names of those sites (just Google the names Marie Krepps and Ashley Uzzell, you’ll find them in short order). Plus, if you have money that you’d like to donate to a worthy cause, she’s a supporter of Extra Life, a charity that raises money for children’s hospitals by playing videogames for a full twenty-four hours. Even the smallest amount donated to Extra Life will give both you and Marie warm fuzzy feelings on the inside. ^_^

Would you like to be lionized in the same way as Marie and the You Tube authors I’ve mentioned? I’d be happy to do it if you’d just ask. Remember, folks: it’s either an author interview, a guest blog post, or both. Regardless of how many views you get as a result of these promotional tactics, you won’t regret it, that much I promise! We’ve got ears, say cheers!

***AMERICAN DARKNESS 3***

If you follow me on Good Reads, Face Book, or Deviant Art, you would have seen a drawing of a heavily-muscled gentleman doing the splits between two cinder blocks while military pressing a barbell in the air. That gentleman (and I use that word loosely) is Marcus McKnight from my upcoming short story called “Code Breaker”, which goes like this:

CHARACTERS:

1. Zoey Davis, Hacktivist
2. Marcus McKnight, Mixed-Martial Artist

PROMPT CONFORMITY: To be announced.

SYNOPSIS: Throughout his fighting career, Marcus has earned a reputation as a backstage bully, often muscling the referees, judges, and officials into giving him a subtle advantage in his fights. Marcus denies these claims and calls his critics “snowflakes” in retaliation. On the night of a championship fight, Zoey, who’s watching from the bleachers, hacks into Marcus’s social media accounts and posts embarrassing pictures of him so that his victims can have a good laugh. Everyone around her is too busy enjoying the fight to pay attention to her hack job. She’s still anxious about being caught and with security beefed up in the arena, she’s right to feel that way.

FUN FACT: This story is partially inspired by John “Bradshaw” Layfield’s bullying scandal in WWE, which I’m certain will earn a Most Disgusting Promotional Tactic award this year from the Wrestling Observer Newsletter. Well, either that or Jinder Mahal’s run as WWE Champion. Or the exploitation of Dusty Rhodes’s death. Or the exploitation of Jerry Lawler’s 2012 heart attack. Or…goddamn, that’s a lot of candidates!

***DARK FANTASY WARRIORS***

One thing that’s not in short supply in this series is guys in suits and ties. Peter Stein from my old first draft novel “Filter Feeder” will be the next dude on that long list. The only difference is, he’ll be armed with a pair of magically imbued boxing gloves. If any of you remember that drive-by abortion of a story, Peter used those boxing gloves in combat against angry fisherman Wes Edwards, who was damned near beaten into powder during that closing fight.

***INTERNET DIALOGUE OF THE DAY***

POWER OF THE PENCIL: I want to be an author when I grow up. Am I insane?

NEIL GAIMAN: Yes. Growing up is highly overrated. Just be an author.

Taking Criticism: Defense vs. Surrender

***TAKING CRITICISM: DEFENSE VS. SURRENDER***

Taking criticism is something all authors have to do whether it’s constructive advice from a friend or an all out assault from a complete stranger. I’ve seen my fair share of both since I got serious about writing in 2001. Developing a thick skin isn’t always easy. It’s not something ready-made or even something you’re born with. But regardless of whether you’ve got paper skin or a suit of steel armor, there comes a time in every author’s career when he has to decide: is this piece of literature worth defending or should it be surrendered to the critics? The trick here is to find a balance between defense and surrender; it can never be all or nothing.

I know this, because throughout the 2000’s when I was wild and young, I would defend everything I wrote. Everything! It didn’t matter if it was good or bad, offensive or sterile, first draft or multiple, I had a huge enough ego to believe that everything I wrote turned to gold. Whenever somebody online would tear down my walls, I built them back up ten times stronger. In my mind, because I had the first amendment on my side, I never had to apologize for anything I wrote and I was absolved of all guilt. And then December 27^th, 2009 rolled along and a small army of angry Deviant Art members logged on to tell me how ageist an essay I wrote called “Class of ‘13” was, where I absentmindedly labeled high school students a bunch of text-messaging queens. I fought valiantly against this small army, but ultimately decided ageism against the youth wasn’t worth defending, so now Class of ’13 is gone from my Deviant Art gallery. To this day, I still take issue with people who blame millennials for everything wrong with the world.

And then came the 2010’s and I found myself doing a lot more surrendering than defending. I don’t know if that 2009 experience jolted something inside me or if maturity kicked in, but it’s like my dad once said about me: I’m friends with everyone. It’s true. I value friendship and growth so much that I purposefully tiptoe around delicate issues. That’s why in 2014 when I wrote an erotic kidnapping short story called “Tainted Love”, I took it down days later when it received criticism for being sexist (even though one person said it was steamy and hot). Because I took the calm and collected approach, I found my friendships still intact and I’m still a long and strong member of the WSS, which I take a lot of pride in.

While turning the other cheek will keep you out of trouble and out of the crosshairs of angry keyboard warriors, you can’t take that attitude with everything you write. If you whitewashed the offensiveness out of everything you wrote, you’d have a whole lot of nothing in your repertoire. It’s like that Face Book meme once said: it’s better to write for yourself and have no public than write for the public and have no self. For a guy who preaches individuality and nonconformity in almost all of my poetry, I sure do curl up in the corner when the heat gets hot. That’s not a good strategy for someone who wants success in the writing industry.

I know this, because one of my novel ideas is currently on hold due to it potentially being rejected by the websites I plan on posting it on. It’s called Puberty X Piracy and it’s an urban fantasy story about a teenager who uses and distributes online porn. On one hand, I could defend this as something that’s personal to me since I like a good wank too. On the other hand, writing this novel could be grounds for termination from whatever social media sites I’m using because of its explicit themes of masturbation, actual sex, and male genital mutilation. Of course, I don’t necessarily have to post these chapters on social media, but it’d be nice to get something out there that didn’t result in catastrophe.

I said before that the key to surviving life as an author is knowing the difference between what is defensible and what needs to be surrendered. I tried defending everything in the 2000’s and it ended horribly. It’s the 2010’s and I’m surrendering everything, but there’s a good chance somebody might like the things I’m surrendering. Which one’s worse: being a dick or missing opportunities? I’d like to think that’s an easy question, but at some point, I have to start sticking up for myself. I just can’t tell the difference between when it’s necessary and when it isn’t.

A common litmus test for this debate is to gage how many people agree or disagree with the piece of literature in question, but that’s not always accurate. There are people who love the shit out of Fifty Shades of Grey and despite the hell out of Winnie the Pooh. Yes, folks, there are people who fucking hate Winnie the Pooh. And Tigger. And Piglet. There are also people who wouldn’t mind sucking on a “Christian Grey flavored popsicle”, whatever the fuck that is. Like I said: write for yourself, not the public. There are people in this world who still think the earth is flat. I may surrender a lot of my talking points, but I refuse to hand the keys of the kingdom to a bunch of flat-earthers. It’s round, motherfuckers! It’s round!

If popularity is a bad litmus test for defensiveness vs. surrender, what’s a good one? That’s a question I don’t have the answer for. I’m 32 years old and celebrating my 16^th year as a semi-professional author, yet I’m no closer to tapping into that particular piece of wisdom. I know I’m shouting into the abyss when I post these blog entries, but I’m still shouting, damn it. If any of my readers have the slightest inkling as to what the answer could be, let me know and I’ll take it into consideration. We’ve got ears, say cheers!

***AMERICAN DARKNESS 3***

Until I become fully committed to Puberty X Piracy, I’m going to start working on the third installment of American Darkness a.k.a. the series of stories that once made Andy Peloquin exclaim, “DARK SHIT!” I have fifty-two story ideas in this particular volume, but all I need is fifty and I’m going to go down the list alphabetically. That means the first story to go in this book will be…slightly less dark than the others. Probably not the best way to start a book with darkness in the title, but it starts with an A, so suck it. It’s called “Adorably Clueless” and it goes like this:

CHARACTERS:

1. Billy Mann, College Librarian
2. Mia Rodriguez, Flirty Customer
3. Dottie Jackson, Billy’s Coworker

PROMPT CONFORMITY: To be announced.

SYNOPSIS: Billy has gone through his entire life without experiencing romance and is feeling lonely and sad because of it. One day at the college library, Billy checks out a few books to Mia, who unbeknown to him was flirting with him the entire time. When Mia walks away, Dottie giggles at Billy and calls him “adorably clueless” when it comes to his social awkwardness and inability to detect flirtation. With the college’s “Second Chance Prom” coming up in a few weeks, Billy has to get his act together if he wants to capitalize on this almost missed opportunity.

***DARK FANTASY WARRIORS***

Because my next first draft book will be a collection of modern day dramas, the number of characters from the fantasy genre I have left to draw are limited to two: Debra Lynch (elf rogue) and Johnny De Morgan (human busker), both of them from the final Poison Tongue Tales 2 story “Street Sleeper”. If I really want to continue drawing these characters, I’ll have to find another source other than stories I’ve already written.

***THE CAT WHO ROBBED A BANK***

I’ve been a Lilian Jackson Braun fan since I became a born-again reader in 2009. I’ve given all of her books passing grades for their light material and cute kitties. This one will be no different, though you’re probably asking why I keep reading these “Cat Who” books if they’re so predictable. That’s basically like asking why I keep buying CD’s of a certain band if they do the same kind of music: because I fucking like them! If you like something, don’t question or pick away at it. Don’t surrender that shit to anybody with ignorant questions. See what I did there?

***JOKE OF THE DAY***

Q: What do you call a blacksmith who likes butt sex?

A: Forge packer.

***POST-SCRIPT***

Just in case there’s any confusion, no, I won’t surrender that joke either.

#MeToo

***ME TOO***

In the wake of the Harvey Weinstein sexual assault scandals, there’s a hashtag going around called #MeToo, where women share their stories of sexual harassment/assault whether it’s in the workplace, public life, school, the streets, or home. As I’ve stated many times before, I don’t often give people a glimpse into my past because of my schizophrenia and how talking about it actually makes the numb feeling worse. But after seeing so many of my friends come out with stories like this, I feel empowered to talk about it as well. Granted, I’m not a woman, but this isn’t an issue exclusive to one gender. So now, I will recall for you, my lovely audience, the first time I’ve experienced sexual harassment.

I was fourteen years old and going to high school in Chehalis, Washington (where the big boys play, apparently). Every once and a while, the school would have Spirit Day, where students dress up in a certain couture to show their school spirit (which I had none of, because I fucking hated school). That day’s apparel was pajamas, which I didn’t wear. And because of this, a girl snuck up behind me and said, “Hey, where’re your pajamas today?” before grabbing my ass and laughing with her friend. I never turned around to see who did it and therefore couldn’t report anybody. Instead, all I had was a heedful of trauma and no way to get rid of the stress. I couldn’t concentrate on schoolwork or creative activities. Whenever I’d watch my favorite TV shows, I’d just blank out and forget what happened. I began to think that I was becoming gradually stupid because of this mind fuckery. As someone who prided myself on A’s and B’s, taking away my intelligence was personal to me. I wanted revenge, but with no face to direct my fists to, it never was.

It was the first time I’d been harassed, but not the last. My freshman year was based on beating the shit out of students who spread lies about me dating an ugly woman (not that there’s anything wrong with that, but a lie is a lie and sexual harassment is sexual harassment). Since then, I’ve been mooned by marines, hit on by fat gay guys, and stalked by ex-girlfriends. I won’t go into the intense details of those encounters, but they sucked just as badly as my first time. Even now as I type this, my prophecy about bad memories coming back is coming true. Hopefully, my audience will learn something from this and my self-triggering won’t be in vain.

But then there’s another reason why I was hesitant to write this: because I’d feel like a hypocrite if I did. In addition to being the victim of sexual harassment, I’ve also been an unintentional perpetrator. I never wanted to be that guy, but sometimes I’d crack an obscene joke that would make the people around me uncomfortable. I used to have a Deviant Art friend who photographed fetish models. Some of those accidentally stinging comments were directed at her and her models. We haven’t spoken since then. It’s the reason why I’m shy around women in the first place: I don’t want to offend them and become that monster again. Even something as simple as saying, “You’re beautiful” can be hurtful. I don’t like hurting people. I like being good to them and making them feel respected. For all the people I’ve offended with my comments, I’m sorry. I could say I’m sorry a thousand times, but it wouldn’t be enough for me. I’ve been in those shoes before and I don’t want to put anybody else in them.

Let these stories be a lesson to everybody out there. If someone tells you to stop, you’d better stop. If they’re not capable of telling you to stop, don’t cross that Moral Event Horizon and become the next Brock Turner. I’ve never crossed the Moral Event Horizon, but I still feel terrible every time I think about the women I’ve hurt with my crass jokes. Be careful about what you say and do to the people around you. Don’t become the next Harvey Weinstein or Donald Trump, two men who can never be forgiven for their sins. It’s not worth the heartache. It’s not worth the lack of concentration. It’s not worth feeling stupid over. Think before you speak, think before you act.

***LYRICS OF THE DAY***

“From morning to night, I stayed out of sight. Didn’t recognize I’d become no more than alive. I’d barely survive. In a word, overrun. Won’t hear a sound from my mouth. I’ve spent too long on the inside-out. My skin is cold to the human touch. This bleeding heart’s not beating much. I’ve murmured a vow of silence and now I don’t even hear when I think aloud. Extinguished by light, I turn on the night when it’s darkness with an empty smile.

-Pink Floyd singing “Wearing the Inside Out”-

Dumb Ass Shit

***DUMB ASS SHIT***

One of the things we share as human beings is a tendency to make mistakes, especially during our younger years when we’re just figuring out the world. To put it in harsher terms, we’ve all said and done…say it with me…dumb ass shit. Nobody is immune to this, because nobody is perfect. As long as you don’t cross the Moral Event Horizon (rape, murder, etc.), you’re entitled to make these little mistakes that you can learn from. If you’ve ever watched a Young Turks video where they’re discussing a teenaged subject, you’ll notice that the pundits can be forgiving of them because they too said and did…say it again…dumb ass shit when they were younger.

Yes, it’s true, ladies and gentlemen: I too have a history of saying and doing dumb ass shit, especially as it relates to the internet. I’ve looked back at some of the things I’ve posted on my Deviant Art, Blogger, and Face Book accounts and I wonder what the hell I was thinking. I could just delete these posts, but seeing as how there are so fucking many of them, it’ll take more time than I care to spend. Many of the things I’ve posted could be construed as bigoted in some way, though my intentions were only to be “edgy” or “funny”. I just read a nonfiction essay I wrote in 2009 called “Class of ‘13” where I accuse teenagers of being text-messaging queens that need strict discipline. Holy shit, did I really expect people to laugh at that? What about Hardcore Harry, a Harry Potter parody where the main character says he’s afraid of Draco Malfoy’s “homosexual urges”. Shaking my head, folks. Shaking my head.

Apparently, it took me a long time for me to mature throughout the years, because I’ve been saying dumb shit in 2014 as well. My blogger.com posts at the time were riddled with depressing anecdotes about songs that made me cry or romantic couples in fiction that made me wish I had love too. One of my now deleted books, Foe vs. Blade, has an introductory chapter where I list off all of the major bad shit that’s happened in my life from high school until the date of publication. It wasn’t until 2015 that I started posting about positive things in my life and, surprise, surprise, I became a happier person because of it. I knew Rhonda Byrne’s book would come in handy someday.

So, I don’t know if you the audience plan on digging through my internet postings, but if you see something buried beneath the happy and accepting stuff that could be construed as “dumb ass shit”, know that I am no longer proud of such things. Being “edgy” isn’t nearly as important as being intelligent and wise. Even the edgiest of edgy artists have to have a reason for their R-rated jokes. I’ve said and done my fair share of stupid shit in my life and I’ve learned from all of it. This is not a cheap attempt at obtaining forgiveness, but if I keep kicking myself over these things, then I’m forever stuck in the past. We can all grow from our mistakes and become decent people.

I figured writing this blog would be easier than going through my internet history and wiping it clean of…say it again…dumb ass shit. But even if I was able to give my internet history the Mr. Clean treatment, there’s that old adage of things being on the internet forever. So instead, I’m going to say this: I’m sorry for all the dumb ass shit. It’s not me, it’s not who I want to be, and it’s not important to my career. Let’s move forward. We’ve got ears, say cheers!

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

As long as we’re on the topic of dumb ass shit, here’s something I attempted months ago, but never got off the ground. It’s called “Hardcore Hogan” (not to be confused with “Hardcore Harry”) and it goes like this:

CHARACTERS:

1. Garrison Kelly, Captured Earthling
2. Hardcore Hogan, Garrison’s Alter Ego
3. Kasabian, Alien Lord
4. Random Squid-Faced Alien Warriors

PROMPT CONFORMITY: To be announced.

SYNOPSIS: Garrison wakes up one day and finds himself in an alien ship’s prison cell. He has no idea what he’s doing there, but when he tries to shake the bars and complain, he gets electrocuted by the guards. Just when he is about to give in, he finds the Hall of Fame ring of his favorite professional wrestler Hardcore Hogan in the corner of the cell. When Garrison puts the ring on, he transforms into the muscular wrestler and puts a beating on the aliens after ripping the bars off the cell door. Kasabian serves as his final enemy and the only person who could possibly explain why Garrison/Hogan is on this ship to begin with.

***COMEDIC QUOTE OF THE DAY***

“There are some large groups out there whose names are a little mixed up. The Department of Water and Power. Well, water and power don’t go together, ‘cause you’ll get fucking electrocuted. Then you have the Food and Drug Administration. Well, with most drugs, you don’t have any food, except for marijuana, but they shouldn’t be bothering people with marijuana to begin with. And then you have that really interesting organization, the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, and Firearms. Do I even have to discuss this one? Bad combination. Here’s what you do. You call the police the Department of Power and Firearms. Then you have the Food and Water Administration. Those are two things you need to survive: food and water. And then you have the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, and Drugs, which keeps all the good shit in one place.”

-George Carlin-

General Update: Creative Fuel

***GENERAL UPDATE: CREATIVE FUEL***

I say this all the time and it bears to be repeated. I say this all the time and it bears to be repeated. Creative fuel can come from the strangest places and it can result in some of the strangest pieces of art imaginable. I kept wondering if the Hulk Hogan dream I had in my last journal would amount to anything and it just might. And then things just rolled on from there. Here’s a general update on all of the short story synopses I’ve created, dreams I’ve had, and movies I’ve seen. If you feel inspired by any of this to do something of your own, then that means my journal was a success. If not, well, at least now I have something to talk about. Starting with the synopsis I plan on using for this week’s WSS contest (Breaking the Habit)….

***THE UNDERTAKER***

CHARACTERS:

Zell Jardine, The Undertaker

Heath Danielson, Depressed Drunk

PROMPT CONFORMITY: Hopefully, this encounter with Zell will break Heath’s drinking habit.

CREATIVE FUEL: The Undertaker from the WWE, a legendary wrestler who will compete at Wrestlemania 32 against Shane McMahon in a Hell in a Cell match. If Shane wins, he will gain control of the WWE and The Undertaker will be out of a job.

SYNOPSIS: After his father’s bakery goes out of business, Heath nurses his sadness at a bar and gets so drunk that the bartender orders him to leave. Not knowing where he is now, he stops to relieve himself in a random spot in the street. When his vision comes back into focus, Heath realizes he just urinated on Zell Jardine’s grave. Zell’s hand rises from below and grabs the drunk by his throat. “The Undertaker” as he’s called is hell bent on murdering Heath in cold blood. Mr. Danielson tries to explain his situation and say he’s sorry, but he’s too drunk to put words together.

***HARDCORE HOGAN***

CHARACTERS:

Garrison Kelly, Captured Earthling

Hardcore Hogan, Garrison’s Alter Ego

Kasabian, Alien Lord

Random Squid-Faced Alien Warriors

CREATIVE FUEL: Hulk Hogan dream.

SYNOPSIS: Garrison wakes up one day and finds himself in an alien ship’s prison cell. He has no idea what he’s doing there, but when he tries to shake the bars and complain, he gets electrocuted by the guards. Just when he is about to give in, he finds the Hall of Fame ring of his favorite professional wrestler Hardcore Hogan in the corner of the cell. When Garrison puts the ring on, he transforms into the muscular wrestler and puts a beating on the aliens after ripping the bars off the cell door. Kasabian serves as his final enemy and the only person who could possibly explain why Garrison/Hogan is on this ship to begin with.

***JUST AS BAD***

CHARACTERS:

Leon Archer, Vengeful Brother

Bryan Hicks, Former Bully

CREATIVE FUEL: Episode of Family Guy where Peter confronts an ex-bully of his who is now physically disabled.

SYNOPSIS: Leon finds the permanent address of Bryan Hicks, a former high school jock who bullied Leon’s brother to the point of suicide. Years of tension built up inside Mr. Archer, but when he sees Bryan bedridden in his apartment due to cancer, he’s faced with a moral dilemma. Will he beat the crap out of a weakened former bully or will that make him just as bad as Mr. Hicks used to be? Bryan tries to convince Leon that he’s a changed man who would go back in time and make different decisions if that was possible. Five years of lonely anger dictates otherwise for Leon.

***GORGON DEATH BITCH***

CHARACTERS:

Steve Jones, Frightened Boyfriend

Kathryn Marsh, Angry Girlfriend

CREATIVE FUEL: The Gorgon Video logo at the beginning of the “Faces of Death” movies.

SYNOPSIS: Steve and Kathryn had been dating for several months and are already living together. They’ve also been fighting a lot recently, giving Steve ideas of breaking up with his girlfriend. When he comes home late from work one night, Kathryn tears into him verbally, prompting Steve to give into his designs of ending the relationship. Kathryn bursts into tears on the couch and then transforms into a gorgon to terrorize her lover some more. Steve tries to talk some sense into her, but he’s too terrified to put words together. He’s also trying not to look Kathryn in the eyes lest he be turned to stone.

***KING BLIZZARD***

CHARACTERS:

King Blizzard, Tyrannical Giant

Jason Clark, Farmer

CREATIVE FUEL: Giant gold and bronze action figure I used to have of Sabertooth from “X-Men”. I called it King Blizzard for the sake of the play dates I used to have with my childhood friend Lance.

SYNOPSIS: For centuries, King Blizzard has bullied the people of The Zeal Empire by stealing food from their farms and tromping all over the land if he doesn’t get what he wants. In the past, soldiers and mages have all been sent out to slay the giant, but all that did was lead them to the slaughter. For as long as he owned his farm, Jason would always be someone who surrendered his food without incident. That changes on the day he decides to stand up to the giant. He might get himself stomped on in the process, but in his mind, it’s better than living life without his family, whom Blizzard killed when his “payment” was late one year.

***ZERO URREA DREAM***

As many of you already know, I have a Deviant Art friend named Zero Urrea and we’ve been friends since 2009. Last night, I had a weird dream about him where I went to his house and his TV was showing an anime about a bisexual monster farmer. Zero came home dressed in camouflage pants and carrying an AK-47 over his shoulders. He also miraculously had brown skin (he’s white in real life). The two of us went on a road trip together to drive me back to Port Orchard. On our way there, we saw that all of the amusements parks in the world were melting into liquid. In an effort to enjoy one of them while we could, we swam in the current the melted water was making. Then I woke up from that dream when my brother James wanted to take me to the YMCA and I didn’t want to go.

***STAR WARS: THE FORCE AWAKENS***

I saw that movie earlier tonight with my mom and Reina. While I won’t write a review for it since it would contain spoilers, I will say that it’s one of the rare mediums that deserve an Extra Credit (five-star) score. It was fucking awesome to say the least. When we were driving home from the cinema, Reina said that I reminded her of Chewbacca from the film. I’m not that hairy and I can’t shoot a crossbow worth a damn, but I do growl and groan a lot, so the comparison is apt.

***FACE BOOK POST OF THE DAY***

On WWE television, Jerry Lawler always has nicknames for his fellow announcers based on their initials. He calls Byron Saxton BS (bullshit) and Mauro Ranallo MR (mentally retarded). If Tom Philips was part of the team, he would be called TP (toilet paper). If Daniel Bryan ever decided to become an announcer, he would be called DB (douche bag). Such unfortunate initials to have when calling the Smackdown action with The King.

Congratulations, Piper!

***CONGRATULATIONS, PIPER!***

Early this morning, my cute little squeaker kitty Piper was named Cat of the Day. Sitka came before her in 2014 and the tradition continues in 2016 with Piper-Diaper. So congratulations, little Squeak, for capturing the hearts of the internet with your diva charm! You’re getting extra petting tonight! The link to Piper’s Cat of the Day nomination can both be found in my Deviant Art ID widget and in this blog entry. Go ahead: soak it all in! ^_^

http://catoftheday.com/archive/2016/March/14.html

It’s also worth a few seconds of your time to read the sweet comments from the Cat of the Day community. Everybody loves Piper-Diaper! If it seems like I’m living vicariously through the fame of my cat, it’s because I am. Then again, giving an animal a good home and a happy life is an important thing for all pet owners to do. You may have a nice, friendly Piper in your home as well who depends on you for love and petting. ^_^

***COMPUTER SITUATION UPDATE***

The new computer works great and it’s all thanks to my awesome brother James for helping me set it up and not allowing me to make the same downloading mistakes I made with the first one. There’s going to be a lot more animal pictures, dark fantasy warrior drawings, and most importantly, literature. Lots and lots of literature. I didn’t leave the internet: I took a three day vacation. Now, let’s get some work done!

***ANIMAL QUOTE OF THE DAY***

“Squeak!”

-Piper, March 14^th, 2016 Cat of the Day-

New Orleans Vacation: Round Two

***NEW ORLEANS VACATION: ROUND TWO***

Next Friday, as in October 30^th, the day before Halloween, Mom, Dale, and I are getting on an airplane to New Orleans for a Halloween vacation on Bourbon Street. I’ve been to New Orleans before and that was in 2011, when I was also on a cruise ship trekking through South America. The necromantic party animal culture of that city is very appealing despite me being a hardcore introvert. I’ll fit right in when I put on my navy blue jumpsuit and Slipknot mask for a night of Halloween fun. I’ve been meaning to take a selfie of me in my Slipknot costume, but I don’t have a smart phone and I haven’t been able to get anybody to take the picture using my regular camera. Don’t worry, the picture will come in due time. Plus, since I’m wearing a creepy mask, it won’t matter if I smile or not. Hehe!

Just like with any vacation I take, my time in a new city will mean time away from the internet. For Deviant Art, that means no new pieces of art will be uploaded during that time. For the WSS group on Good Reads, it means I’ll take a one-week sabbatical from the contests (though I still plan on competing in the “Patterns” prompt). For Face Book, it means my “heavy metal for the day” and “Ungrateful Mind Rewired” posts will be nonexistent (sorry, Jamie!).

But just like all good things, my vacation in New Orleans will eventually end and I’ll be back home to get the creative juices flowing yet again. I leave on Friday, October 30^th and I return home on Wednesday, November 4^th. As much as I love spending time with my online family, a break from the everyday grind is just what the doctor ordered. I opted out of the Steamboat Springs vacation back in September, though that was the right choice because sitting on my ass during long car rides would have driven me fucking nuts. New Orleans will be a better choice for me, so I’m definitely getting on that plane.

If you’re planning on robbing my house while I’m away, there are two things you need to know. One, you’ll never find it in a million years. Two, even if you do, you’ll have a pissed off older brother and a spitfire niece to contend with. I don’t like your odds. Hehe! We’ve got ears, say cheers!

　

***POISON TONGUE TALES: WRITING***

With the arrival of a new week at the WSS Contest and Company, I have a story on deck for their “patterns” prompt called “Streetwalker” and it goes like this:

　

CHARACTERS:

　

Ryan Brock, Barbarian John
Danielle Courtney, Dark Mage Prostitute

　

PROMPT CONFORMITY: The patterned purple and green flames on Danielle’s predominately black dress give her an aura of mysticism and magic, which her customers either find appealing or intimidating.

　

SYNOPSIS: In a D&D setting, Ryan is looking for a prostitute as a way of celebrating his latest brutal conquest. He finds one in Danielle, who is using the money to pay for wizard school. When Ryan becomes too aggressive with her, Danielle shows him just how powerful her magic really is.

　

And then there will be a short story I’ll work on independently called “Born to Die” and it goes like this:

　

CHARACTERS:

　

India Malakar, Elf Monk
Jill Henderson, Space Mercenary
The “Born to Die” Space Mercenaries
Bartender

　

SYNOPSIS: Jill and her mercenary team are celebrating a completed mission where they burned down a village that refused to pay them protection money. While they’re drinking heavily at a bar, screaming loudly, and annoying the bartender, a young boy named India enters the bar seeking revenge for his fallen village brethren. There are many mercenaries and only one India Malakar. In order for the martial artist to win this battle, he has to learn to control his aggressive feelings and fight with a calm and clear mind. As long as vengeful thoughts take over his brain, he’s doomed to end up just like his fellow villagers.

　

***POISON TONGUE TALES: EDITING***

When I went to Random.org’s number generator and selected a short story to edit, the one it chose was…(gulp)…Death Blade. If you’re wondering why I nervously gulped just now, it’s because this short story was my first official entry at the WSS back in late 2013 and it’s the one I’m least proud of. I know we as authors always feel like our past works suck the most, but Death Blade really has me rattled. Even Marie thought it was a bizarre story and that’s saying something, because her imagination is even more colorful than mine. Wish me luck!

　

***DARK FANTASY WARRIORS***

In the interest of continuing the theme of Villains Month as imposed by my good friend Zero Urrea, the next drawing to come from this series will be of Michael Demonkill. You’ve never heard of him before because he’s a Blood Brawl character who doesn’t appear until the middle of the novel. He’s an orcish dark paladin who dresses in even creepier clothes and has a nastier disposition than Ivan Blackstone. Hell, those two orcs are eventually going to meet and it’s going to be an R-rated gore fest. Yikes!

　

***DOMESTIC DIALOGUE OF THE DAY***

SUSAN: Garrison, are you laying in the dark listening to foo-foo night-night music again?
GARRISON: Yep.
SUSAN: Garrison, that’s depressing! You need to find something fun to do!
GARRISON: Like what? Drawing a picture of Elmer Fudd cutting off Bugs Bunny’s head?
SUSAN: No! No yucky pictures!

Steamboat Springs Vacation

***STEAMBOAT SPRINGS VACATION***

This coming Wednesday (September 9^th), I’m headed to the airport to begin my family vacation in Steamboat Springs, Colorado. I come home from vacation on the 14^th of that same month. That means I’ll spend five days in a place that has been described as “beautiful” and “dog friendly” by my mother. I’ve been in lots of places that were beautiful and dog friendly from Monterey Bay, California to Long Beach, Washington to Seaside, Oregon to Victoria, BC, Canada. If Steamboat Springs promises the same thing as those places, I’m in for a relaxing and stress-free vacation, which is the only kind of vacation I’ll do these days.

For all of you internet folk, it means the same thing as every other time I go on vacation: limited internet access and an inability to create new pieces of art whether it’s writing, photography, or drawing. For Deviant Art and Face Book, this means the most activity you’ll get out of me is replying to messages and nothing more. For Good Reads, particularly the WSS Contest, it means I won’t be able to participate in that week’s competition. For Read Together, Blog Together, don’t worry about a thing, because as soon as I get back from vacation, the first thing I’m going to do is read and review “So…I Met a Vampire” by Paul McAvoy. Last and sure as hell not least, Mr. Andy Peloquin, you don’t need to worry about a thing either, because your September 8^th guest blog post about music and creativity will go live at midnight that day. Blogger.com allows for delayed posting, so I’m not scrambling to put things together at the last minute.

Just like with all vacations past, present, and future, I will return to the internet and I will get settled back into my daily routine. Try not to laugh when I say “daily routine”. I may be jobless, but that doesn’t mean I sit around with my thumbs in my ass all day long. Hehe! We’ve got ears, say cheers!

　

***AMERICAN DARKNESS***

If you’re on Deviant Art, you would have noticed several messages in your inbox that are updated short stories from this series. Those recent four stories have been completed and American Darkness is now fully repaired. All I have to do now is put together the .DOC files for Smash Words and Create Space and it’ll be ready to go. Despite the overwhelming numbers of crybaby male characters and bitchy female characters in these short stories, I can say with undying confidence that this version of American Darkness is ten times better than the one currently holding a 2.75 star rating on Good Reads. A big thanks goes to Marie Krepps for being there for me throughout all 50 of those stories. I pay a lot of lip service to that woman, but that goes to show how important a good beta reader is. Hell, I’d build a religious temple with her likeness on it if I wasn’t too lazy for manual labor. Hehe!

　

***TELEVISION DIALOGUE OF THE DAY***

KRAMER: Things are going pretty well for me here in Hollywood. I met a girl.
JERRY: Kramer, she was murdered.
KRAMER: Yeah, well, I wasn’t looking for a long-term relationship anyways.

-Seinfeld-

Mittens

NAME: Mittens
AGE: 4
OCCUPATION: Domestic Cat
CANON: Deviant Art Role-Plays


This question is strictly for people who currently have or used to have a Deviant Art account. When you have a lengthy conversation with a fellow member and that member has a sweet disposition, do you oftentimes find yourself in little role-plays? I’m not talking about a controlled environment like Dungeons & Dragons. I’m talking about free-form role-plays where it’s not uncommon to take the role of a kitty the artist has a picture of or a barbarian the artist drew himself. Here’s an example of what I’m talking about:


DEVIANT A: Aww! Cute kitty! I want to pet him!
DEVIANT B: Be my guest!
DEVIANT A: (Scratches the kitty under the chin.)
DEVIANT B: (While taking the role of said kitty) Purrs and rolls over.
DEVIANT A: Would you like some treats, little kitty?
DEVIANT B: Meow!


Role-playing is frowned upon by the elite members of Deviant Art, but I actually find it to my liking. I think it’s cute and cuddly. Of course, it can also be badass and violent like the role-plays I have with my friend Zero while using a Lego ogre I have named Sage Thunderbreath. Sage is supposed to be an intimidating hammer fighter, but he ends up being used for comic relief. Funny how that works out.

This post isn’t about Sage or any of the other characters I’ve used. This post is about a cute and snuggly kitty named Mittens, who was played by me, but named by the cutesy and bouncy girl I was role-playing with, Yasmin. I can’t remember exactly what the occasion was where I used Mittens, but my first guess was a welcome back gesture after Yasmin had been gone for so long from Deviant Art. She would scratch the kitty behind the ears and Mittens would roll over on his back for belly rubs. Yasmin would also give the kitty a ball of yarn to play with as well as a whole cherry pie to eat. Not only did Mittens purr, play, roll over, eat pie, and do all of those other cute things. He also talked. Do you know what Mittens’ first words were? “I wuv you, Yasmin!”

Admit it, animal lovers: you want to own a talking, playing kitty just like Mittens. You want to have long conversations with him while the two of you watch Baby Looney Tunes or Muppet Babies together. Maybe you’ll talk about how you want Baby Bugs Bunny or Baby Kermit the Frog to leap out of the TV and join you two in a big ol’ cuddle-puddle. On a cold winter night when the rain is pouring and the wind is blowing, you’ll all get together under a big warm blankey and snooze away with “The Dreams of Children” by Shadowfax playing on a stereo somewhere.

Cuteness overload? When I’m using Mittens, I’m just getting started, buddy. If it’s at all possible to die of too much cuteness, Mittens will be the one who puts you in a box and sends you to heaven. Or the Rainbow Bridge to see the other animals you’ve had in your long lifetime. When I eventually introduce him into a literary capacity, the story itself will be of TV-Y proportions. Cuteness overloads from top to bottom, even more so than in a short story I wrote called “Sitka the Nose Biter”. No violence of any kind except for cartoon-style slapstick. No swearing unless they’re watered down to children’s level words like “darn” and “heck”. Sexual content? Fucking forget it! Oops, I’ve already violated the TV-Y standards! Oh well! Some things never change! Hehe!

　

***WRESTLING DIALOGUE OF THE DAY***

“Say no to negativity.”

-Jerry Lawler-

"I Laughed, I Cried, I Crapped Myself" by Ashley Uzzell and Anette Suggs

BOOK TITLE: I Laughed, I Cried, I Crapped Myself: Poetry of Life
AUTHORS: Anette Suggs & Ashley Uzzell
YEAR: 2015
GENRE: Poetry
SUBGENRE: Personal
GRADE: Pass


The bond between grandmother and granddaughter has never been clearer than in this book of poetry from both authors. They shared emotions, beliefs, moments, and most importantly, they shared life together. Ms. Anette Suggs will be surely missed, but this book of poetry will keep her memory immortalized until time itself is standing still. No topic is off limits, yet the innocence of it all is maintained throughout this read.

Just like with our favorite music, it’s always nice if the poetry we read is relatable and pretty much every poem in this book speaks to our souls. When you forget who you are and need to be reminded, try “I Am”. When you’ve lost your innocence and your flower is wilting, the poem is actually titled “Innocence”. When you’re fearing for the life of your child because he or she fell on the pavement, you’ve got “Impact”.

And then there’s a poem called “Wasted Emotions”, which is about how romantic couples grow apart over time and its no less heartbreaking when the end is near. “Wasted Emotions” is special to me because Ashley Uzzell posted it in the message board of one of my own Deviant Art poems called “A Love Song to No One”, which harbors the same sorrowful feelings. I’m not sure if her poem was inspired by mine, but whatever the case, I will always clutch it to my heart. There’s something for everyone in this poetry book. All you have to do is read it all the way through, which shouldn’t be hard considering it’s less than 50 pages.

The individual poems themselves, whether written by grandmother or granddaughter, are written with a clear and concise meter that makes reading them out loud or singing them onstage a piece of cake. Not all of them have rhyming verses, but it shouldn’t matter because the poems are enjoyable and rhythmic anyways. There’s a disclaimer in the front of the book that says some of this poetry was written in the mid-1990’s, which means Ashley Uzzell was only a child, yet she writes like someone who has been doing this for a long, long time. To tell you the truth, I wish I had her and her grandmother’s skills when I was starting out writing poetry in 2004.

Anette Suggs passed away and left behind a legacy that will last forever in the hearts and minds of those who got to know her, either personally or literarily. As I write this review, Ashely Uzzell is 30 years old and still has a bright future ahead of her. I have no doubts that those many decades will be used for creating even more beauty than we’ve seen in her poetry book. I’m not saying that as her personal friend; I’m saying it as a lover of literature, which is the real reason this book gets a passing grade.

Marcus Edge

Diablo II: Lord of Destruction wasn’t just a videogame for me back in the early 2000’s; it was an influence. It was a digital drug. I killed the brothers of evil over and over again as time passed into the 2010’s. I used a variety of characters to do it, but my favorites were the barbarian and the paladin since they were both badass brawlers. Then again, any character class from that game can be a badass brawler if the right skills were chosen.

Which brings me to the druid class. Druids, like any other character, had a skill set sorted out into three categories. The ones particular to him were elemental magic spells, shape-shifting spells, and summoning spells. If you’re playing Diablo II and you want to turn your druid into a brawler, put your skill points into the shape-shifting category, particularly were-bear transformation and maul. How the hell are Diablo’s minions supposed to compete with a big ass bear who only gets stronger and hungrier with every blow?

The answer to that question is easier than you think, unfortunately. When druids transform into were-bears, their attack speed is significantly slower. Even when they’re armed with weapons with a very fast attack speed, the strikes still come slowly and awkwardly.

Now imagine if the druid was armed with something heavy like a great maul, which has a very slow attack speed. If he transformed into a bear, his new attack speed would be so slow his victims would look like Matrix characters with how easily they dodge the strikes. Now imagine if your ursine druid was frozen, which slows down running and attack speed. Duriel, the boss enemy for act two, has a freezing aura around him at all times. Do the math and you’ll see right away that tortoises don’t always beat hares.

This was the story for a druid I played with named Marcus Edge. If that name seems familiar to you, you were probably logged onto Deviant Art and reading a story called The Meaning of Laugh, which was about a raunchy comedian of the same name who has a heart attack on stage. That story won’t be published in any short story anthologies anytime soon due to the crappy writing style I employed in 2012.

The Diablo II version of Marcus Edge was a lethal warrior. His slowness, however, made it impossible to defeat Duriel and I ultimately deleted him from my archives. But this doesn’t mean his career in a creative field is over. Druids in general are fascinating to me. As an animal lover, I should know this, because druids specialize in summoning and transforming into these furry creatures. If I ever write another dark fantasy story and need a druid, I would gladly use Marcus Edge as my main character. Perhaps he can get notoriety in more ways than his name being used for a crappy comedian character.

　

***FACE BOOK POST OF THE DAY***

“When I was playing Final Fantasy videogames as a child, I’d always wondered what the hell a ‘phoenix down’ was. I knew what it did, but I didn’t know why it was called that. Turns out this whole time I’ve been sprinkling bird feathers on my unconscious warriors. Smelling salts would be more practical, but they probably wouldn’t conform to the magical element of Final Fantasy games.”

-Me-

Merrill Cody

Of all the things I’ve written back in the early days of my writing career, the one series I’m most ashamed of is Satire of Ruin. If you’ve known me since 2004, you’ve seen this series of movie scripts posted on my Deviant Art account and my old website Macaroni & Ownage Productions.
It revolves around an aspiring screenwriter named Julian Kane who lashes out against everybody who criticizes his work. Sometimes it’s just a screaming fit, other times he actually beats people up. Naturally, Mr. Kane needed somebody to keep his aggression under control. That person is none other than the subject of this blog post, a former detective turned filmmaker, Merrill Cody.

Now that I look back on this little series of mine known as Satire of Ruin, I can appreciate the patience that Merrill had for his pupil Julian. In order to be around an explosive personality such as Julian, Merrill needed to have the patience of a saint. Patience doesn’t come easily for someone who used to make a living by solving crimes and putting crooks behind bars.

Julian might even be a crook for the things he did in my movie scripts. Even though Merrill didn’t necessarily have a badge anymore, he could just as easily take down Julian and make a citizen’s arrest. Merrill didn’t do that. Instead, he gave his pupil some advice when the latter was traumatized from a bout of prison rape: go to India and mediate with the monks. This would either prove to be useful advice or it would be Merrill’s way of saying to Julian, “I’m done with you, you’re someone else’s problem now.” I guess even saintly ex-cops can run out of patience eventually.

So what does Merrill Cody do now? Does he take on another pupil or does he continue his film career alone? The man had his trust broken by a rage-a-holic who can’t take criticism worth a damn. He’s not even sure if he can trust his actors and actresses to put on a good show for his audience. Even the dude who holds the shotgun microphone can be a little suspicious at times.

Is it time to finally retire this character and let him live on the beach for the rest of his life? Or does he have one last burning spark of trust within him to take on another pupil for his filmmaking ventures? Or maybe he’s so bitter by being betrayed that he’ll go back to being a cop just for the sake of putting assholes in jail.

No matter what path I choose for Merrill Cody to take, I hope he can be as wise as his age suggests. I wrote the final installment of Satire of Ruin in 2006, which made me a 21-year-old at the time. I’m well beyond that age now and have a much different worldview. Can I give Merrill Cody one more chance at the spotlight? Can I give any of my Satire of Ruin characters one more chance or are they all beyond redemption? Only time will tell.

　

***LYRICS OF THE DAY***

“You’re like a high school dropout: no class.”

-Fort Minor rapping “High Road”-