Soldiers and Hard Work

An axe to grind became rise and grind

The American Dream is yours to find

A fantasy McGuffin, never mind the dick sucking

Don’t like boot polish? Keep on trucking

Rock and roll used to stick it to the man

Now it’s all about money, get as much as you can

Authenticity is now a pejorative

A roof above, you can’t afford it

Unless you beat the algorithm like it owes you dough

Pay thousands for the secret, but nobody really knows

Either way you got yourself a bullwhip master

Lashes will make you work harder and faster

Can’t flip the bird without their approval

Your art is digital, ready for mass removal

Corporate masters wrote your lyrics for you

Sing them word for word or sponsors ignore you

Soldiers and hard work! Soldiers and hard work!

Never mind creativity and all of your quirks

Soldiers and hard work! Soldiers and hard work!

Say it loud and proud while bikini dancers twerk

Soldiers and hard work! Soldiers and hard work!

Brought to you by Monster and Paramount Network

Soldiers and hard work! Soldiers and hard work!

Buy it, believe it, love it, or leave it

Love it, love it, love it

Love it, love it, love it

Repeat the mantra one million times

And now it’s forever a part of your mind

Now we’re going pop, the party doesn’t stop

Except for the guitarist who parties the hardest

Take a pay cut or get tossed out the window

Like a pot of piss, an appropriate symbol

Squeeze you dry like we’re making lemonade

We can always use a robot to get our product made

Strum your guitar and bang on your drums

Slap the bass with your blistering thumbs

Scream the lyrics like you’re in agony

Like you’re blitzed and losing your center of gravity

Another shakedown and you start to break down

Who’s next in line to get peanuts for time?

Make more babies to feed the industry

Freezing her eggs? You got to be kidding me

Everybody stays home, all bosses are jerks

Couldn’t bother to care about soldiers and hard work

Who's the Real Hard Worker Here: the Actual Worker or the Extortionist?

 

Paying Your Dues

VERSE 1

All your horror stories will come with a price

All your greatest fears will come back to life

You got your ass cancelled for no good reason

All of your fans have been accused of treason

This is what it means when you pay your dues

Screaming heavy metal, yet singing the blues

Your interest rate is up to a hundred percent

Many more lonely nights is what you’ll spend

CHORUS 1

Paying your dues is what your critics choose

Paying your dues means you sometimes lose

Paying your dues will tax your ass raw

Steel your spine and tighten your jaw

VERSE 2

Nobody said that this would be easy

Nobody said that this would be pleasing

It’s all a part of life if you like it or not

Always somebody to steal your spot

CHORUS 1

Paying your dues is what your critics choose

Paying your dues means you sometimes lose

Paying your dues will tax your ass raw

Steel your spine and tighten your jaw

VERSE 3

Everybody gets what they paid for in the end

Even if it costs them every one of their friends

Even if it costs them their own damn health

Guarantees them a place in their own hell

Despite all the pain, you could fail again

Back to square one, far away from the end

Everyone knows this ain’t a meritocracy

But they cover it up with their own hypocrisy

CHORUS 2

Paying your dues ain’t no ocean cruise

Paying your dues comes with an ego bruise

Paying your dues will break you in half

When you scale to the top, it’s okay to laugh

This is Mount Everest reaching to the stars

This will show the world how tough you are

I hope you get everything you’ve wanted

You and the elite have much in common

Do It For Her

When everything in the world seems to hurt

Just remember that you’re doing this for her

Every hour you work for draconian wages

Is so that she can live beyond young ages

Every sleepless night marked with baggy eyes

Is so that she doesn’t have to grow up to cry

Is it worth the pain? Would you do it all again?

Damn right you would, my hardworking friend

Some things are more important than agony

To say otherwise is the highest form of blasphemy

The future grows darker every single day

Even in dystopia, she needs sunshine rays

Should experience happiness while she’s alive

The world is there for your daughter to thrive

She can be a dreamer, really anything she wants

In spite of politicians who throw their taunts

In spite of billionaires who don’t want to share

In spite of bullies who don’t seem to care

While everything else may feel like a blur

Never forget that you’re doing this for her

Why Won't You Love Me?

VERSE 1

An autograph for your necrograph

Yet you turn away and belly laugh

Tell the world I’m damaged goods

I’m a psycho hiding out in the woods

Imagination short circuited by pills

Wasted potential killed off by the ills

Scandalous past kicking my own ass

The quiet one in the back of the class

CHORUS

Why won’t you love me?

Why do you shove me?

Enough room in my heart for an army

Even for the ones who try to harm me

Why won’t you love me?

You’re so high above me

Enough room in my mind for a choir

Love me or leave me, down to the wire

VERSE 2

Jealousy is a sincere form of flattery

Exclusion is a real form of battery

Failure is the true root of all agony

Suffering is the beginning of tragedy

I see you flying like a golden angel

My wings are bent at a funny angle

I’ll see you on the bottom of the barrel

I’ll find you when I’m lonely and feral

CHORUS

Why won’t you love me?

Why do you shove me?

Enough room in my heart for an army

Even for the ones who try to harm me

Why won’t you love me?

You’re so high above me

Enough room in my mind for a choir

Love me or leave me, down to the wire

VERSE 3

My passion won’t allow me to let go

My anxiety won’t allow me to know

The answer to this riddle called life

No matter how I hard I fucking try

They tell me to be patient and wait

Until the day I’m at the pearly gates

Work harder than I’ve ever worked

Until I blow a fuse and go berserk

PRE-CHORUS

Why won’t you love me?

Why won’t you care?

Why do the masses

Give me a blank stare?

Why won’t you love me?

Why won’t you join me?

Could my cries for help

Be that fucking annoying?

CHORUS

Why won’t you love me?

Why do you shove me?

Enough room in my heart for an army

Even for the ones who try to harm me

Why won’t you love me?

You’re so high above me

Enough room in my mind for a choir

Love me or leave me, down to the wire

Laziness

***LAZINESS***

I’ve beaten this dead horse so many times that it’s nothing more than shredded flesh and bone powder. I wouldn’t blame any of my readers if they suddenly got tired of hearing about it. But if I don’t write about the topic of laziness for the hundredth time, I feel like this will be a missed opportunity. There seems to be an updated version of this song and dance every time I write about it. So here it goes.

As of today, I don’t have a whole lot going on in my life. I haven’t lifted heavy furniture or done any strenuous chores around the house for weeks now. I still don’t have a high demand for book sales. I wanted to apply for a job with What Culture, but I didn’t think I could make the cut since I’m not as knowledgeable about pop culture as the admins. I’ve been on the job application sending circuit in the past and not one boss said yes to me. The WSS and my Deviant Art page have both been slowly declining in activity since old friends are falling off the face of the earth.

So I guess it stands to reason that I have all of this time in the world to work on my creative output and boost my self-employed career as an author. I can keep putting out chapters of novels, short stories, and heavy metal lyrics in hopes that one day, just one day someone will see them and help spread my message like a virus. That’s pretty much what being an indie author is all about: hoping that the right people will see you and want to invest their time and money in you. It’s like fishing in the sense that the right lure will catch the biggest and tastiest fish.

But here’s the thing. Yes, I do have lots of free time on my hands now that my schedule is clearing up quickly. However, most of my free time has been replaced with zombie walking. In other words, I pace around the house, lay in bed, or surf the internet hoping that my motivation will come back to me. The motivation has always been there, but every time it’s time to read, write, or edit, there’s this sensation in my brain that keeps me down. It’s a combination of sensitivity and numbness (for lack of a better description) and it robs me of the energy and willpower to get any creative work done.

I thought this problem was long behind me. I’m using my CPAP every night, I’m eating less and losing weight because of it, I haven’t had a schizophrenic attack in forever, and life is comfortable in this cozy town of Port Orchard. So where exactly is this mysterious brain sensation coming from? Self-doubt? Possible depression? Dare I say, the gray weather? The outside world’s influence? Aging?

That last item is important because when I was in my teens and 20’s, I used to get shit done on a regular basis. When I worked on a novel, I wrote a chapter a day with the longest paragraphs. When I had a college assignment, I worked relentlessly on it until it was done and turned in on time. When I had my volunteer jobs here and there, I worked my ass off and made my supervisors happier than the Pillsbury Doughboy being frisked by the TSA.

So what changed? How did I go from writing a chapter or short story per day to barely getting anything in at all? Am I really feeling like an old man at 31 years old? Is my obesity really that much of an influence? Keep in mind that in my teens and 20’s, I was skinnier and drank a lot of caffeinated energy drinks. I’ve since shot back up to 300 lbs. and I can’t drink Red Bulls anymore because they make my heart race. Maybe there’s also something about not having a routine schedule that makes me sluggish. Maybe I have to have work in order to do work.

I don’t claim to have all of the answers to my own dilemma, but I’d like at least some idea of what’s going on. I’ve read articles on procrastination and boredom and they’ve suggested that irregular sleep cycles, lack of exercise, and too much caffeine were among the reasons for that. Those seem like easy problems to rectify, but you have to remember that sleeping late, eating fast food, and drinking caffeine are all addictive behaviors. It’s just another way for my own brain to fuck with me. Thanks, brain.

Laying around and walking like a zombie might seem like paradise to someone with an overworked schedule. But make no mistake about it: there’s nothing glorious about feeling sluggish. There’s nothing normal about not being able to do what you love because of a technicality in your own fucked up mind. I repeat: a technicality, with many loose explanations, but no concrete answers. I see people brag about how hard they work and it hurts that I can’t put in as much firepower as them, all because…of a technicality in my goddamn brain. It’s a technicality that seldom existed in my younger years and little has changed now that I’m a 31-year-old.

If I could put out creative project after creative project 24/7 for the rest of my life, trust me, I would. I love writing. I love reading. I love editing. I even love my drawings and photography even though they’re not my main products. Common sense dictates that doing these things more often than I do would increase my happiness and fulfill my hardworking nature. So why am I not doing them? Because of a technicality, that’s why.

By this time in the blog entry, the dead horse is beyond necromancy. Not even Papa Shango’s silly magic from 1992 WWE television will be enough to animate this horse’s dead body. It used to be that every time I talk about this subject, the next day would result in a cornucopia of creativity. Maybe that’s what will happen tomorrow, maybe not. I don’t know anymore. It’d be nice to have some solid answers, but who do I look like, Dick Tracy?

***WRESTLING QUOTE OF THE DAY***

“Go ahead, Miz, go do what you do best! Whatever it is, it sure as hell isn’t wrestling!”

-Daniel Bryan-

Lazy Day

VERSE 1

In this world of necromancy

Another rainy day is passing

Nothing to do but fall asleep

For wasted time I will weep

Laziness has taken over me

Blurry vision is all I can see

Novocain on my poor brain

Saturday goes down the drain

CHORUS

If hard work is everything

Show me the tools to bring

Give me the lyrics to sing

I’ll fly with my own wings

If boredom is the sickness

End it with some quickness

Lazy days drain life away

In this bed is where I lay

VERSE 2

In this world inside my head

Everything is buried and dead

Coffins make the best of beds

Ashes to ashes is what I said

Dust to dust, in fire we trust

Light the fuse, ignite the lust

Nothing wants to move today

Slightest twitch is too much pain

CHORUS

If hard work is everything

Show me the tools to bring

Give me the lyrics to sing

I’ll fly with my own wings

If boredom is the sickness

End it with some quickness

Lazy days drain life away

In this bed is where I lay

BRIDGE

Writing my life down on pages

Speaking in the tongues of sages

Rocking on the biggest stages

Lazing until the final ages

Recovery mode is not an excuse

But it’s the one I always choose

Heavy eyelids and a heavy heart

Continue to tear my art apart

VERSE 3

There’s always tomorrow to cure today’s sorrow

Because I know that time is always mine to borrow

Procrastination is a form of indoctrination

Convincing myself that this is my destination

So many of my allies depend on my actions

But all I can give them is less than a fraction

End the day by falling down on my face

Fuck necromancy and fuck this whole place!

CHORUS

If hard work is everything

Show me the tools to bring

Give me the lyrics to sing

I’ll fly with my own wings

If boredom is the sickness

End it with some quickness

Lazy days drain life away

In this bed is where I lay

Adrenaline Dump

***ADRENALINE DUMP***

As of today, I only have seven more stories to write before I hit number 50 for Poison Tongue Tales. This past Saturday I wrote one called “Born to Die” and the day after I wrote “Minnie-Moo”. In between chapters, I’ve been writing jokes for Face Book and drawing pictures for my Dark Fantasy Warriors collection. And then on Monday…I took the world’s longest nap in my parents’ bed with Sitka snuggling beside me…before watching WWE Raw later that night. Monday was considered a lazy day, to say the least. Today, I’m trying to keep the work rate going with this journal and maybe some paperback reading.

In the UFC, there are times during a match when a fighter will unleash an exciting fury of offense for the first round and be completely drained for the next two rounds (or four if it’s a main event or championship fight). Commentators Joe Rogan and Mike Goldberg will refer to that as an “adrenaline dump”, and no, it has nothing to do with taking a powerful shit. After reading my work schedule in the first paragraph of this journal, do you see how that UFC analogy is appropriate? I work on my creative projects throughout the past few days, do a shit ton of work on Sunday, and then pass out with Sitka on Monday.

This is not the first time I’ve experienced an adrenaline dump. Then again, I bet there are some writers out there who go through the same thing. I played the word game TPBM (The Person Below Me) on the WSS Contest and Company’s forum and made a post asking if the next person experiences downpours of adrenaline. The next person indeed said yes. That’s one other person. But as you all know, the reason I post these journals is to pose questions to my audience, this one being obvious by now.

Actually, the real reason I’m writing this journal is to keep with the tradition of NaNoWriMo as an excuse to write every day since yesterday I technically broke that tradition by falling asleep with Sitka. I’m pretty sure most people will answer “yes” to the adrenaline dump question since we’re all human and nobody here is a 24/7 worker. If you were a 24/7 worker, you’d probably be dead from stress.

We all need to take time to relax and be alone. We don’t always get that time, so when you do, take advantage of it and stretch it out for as long as possible. Taking a break every once and a while isn’t a sign of laziness. A battery cannot generate electricity if it’s not fully charged. The human mind and body cannot compose an opera, paint a painting, or write a novel if that’s all they’re doing with their lives.

I make this point all the time because the word “lazy” is thrown around a lot these days, often unnecessarily and always unfairly. We hear that word all the time in political debates, especially since a year from now we’re going to have a new president. Welfare, food stamp, and social security recipients are unfairly categorized as being lazy by people who don’t know nor care about the recipients’ circumstances. Millennials are stereotyped as being lazy because of their love of technology and their desires to chase their dreams instead of being stuck behind a desk all day. Minorities of all kinds are stereotyped as lazy because they have a harder time getting hired by mostly white employers.

As humans, we’re all capable of working hard and engaging the world in doing so. It’s not just limited to certain age, economic, or racial groups. What separates us isn’t our “laziness”, but our desires. We do work hard, but on other projects that are more important to us than others. Some people want to cure AIDS. Some people want to fight terrorists overseas. Some people want to write novels. Some people want to sing to an audience. The moment we criticize each other for our desires is when hatred spreads like the virus it is. Nationalism doesn’t work. Conformity of any kind doesn’t work, because instead of teaching teamwork, it teaches resentment and bitterness.

I’ve never had the chance or the words to make those statements about false laziness before. I keep wanting to say them, but those opportunities come only after I’ve seen a Face Book meme criticizing one group of people for “taking handouts”. I don’t want to speak about this passionate topic when I’m angry at someone’s ignorance. I want to speak about it when I’m calm, cool, and collected and that time couldn’t have come any earlier than tonight.

So thank you, ladies and gentlemen, for listening to me bear my soul under the guise of a blog entry about adrenaline dumps. Let’s keep the L word out of our political debates and only use it when the situation actually warrants it. Learn the circumstances of the one you’re throwing that word against before it comes out of your mouth. The more you get to know someone, the less likely you are to cast judgment. We’ve got ears, say cheers!

　

***READING***

It’s been days since I’ve read and reviewed Marie Krepps’ “Love Me Today, Kill Me Tomorrow” as well as Michael Schofield’s “January First”. How many days, I’ve lost track. It’s time for a new book and that new book is called “A Street Cat Named Bob” by James Bowen. I browsed Barnes & Noble for anything that looked interesting and found this book. The front cover features an orange-yellow kitty who looks a little bit like Nacho. Naturally, I had to buy that book.

And, uh…I also paid for copies of Marie Krepps’ books “Box of Chocolates” and “Spunky and the Wizard’s Chair” (written as Ashley Uzzell). Marie is probably going to read that last line and curse me for spending that much money on her books. But the truth is, she’s been so good to me in giving me LuNacho advice, encouraging me to participate in NaNoWriMo, and critiquing my Poison Tongue Tales. Putting a little extra money in Marie’s pocket is my way of thanking her for this year of friendship she has given me. I will always look back on 2015 as the year of Marie Krepps aka Ashley Uzzell. And that thought brings a smile to my face and a tear to my eye! ^_^

　

***POISON TONGUE TALES***

Tomorrow I plan on getting back to my PTT writing schedule. No naps with Sitka, no new age music with Smokey, just straight up hard work. Tomorrow’s short story will be for the WSS while the day after’s short story will be done independently. Here are the synopses for both of them:

　

***STONE COLD (WSS)***

　

CHARACTERS:

　

Brutus Warpath, Human Barbarian
Zod Ragefist, Warthog Sorcerer
Domino Gunn, Human Dark Paladin

　

PROMPT CONFORMITY: Brutus has been on a “wild goose chase” for Zod and Domino for months on end.

　

SYNOPSIS: Brutus has spent months searching for Zod and Domino, the two warriors who slew his wife. As more time passes, Brutus gets angrier and angrier and is more likely to do what Zod says he‘ll do: “give into the evil”. Giving into sadistic tendencies will only make Brutus evil enough to be controlled by Zod’s dark magic. When Brutus finally locates Zod and Domino inside their dragon corpse hideout, he has a decision to make: be just as sick and twisted as Zod wants him to be and violently rape Domino or find a way to make peace with the past.

　

***ZOMBIE (INDEPENDENT)***

　

CHARACTERS:

　

Gail Reinhold, Paladin
Mattie Dent, Drugged Out Mercenary

　

PROMPT CONFORMITY: None.

　

SYNOPSIS: In this urban fantasy tale, Gail’s church runs a drug rehabilitation facility in their basement, where holy magic and self-belief keep patients from staying there forever. Gail bites off more than she can chew when she takes in Mattie Dent, a space mercenary who overdosed on combat drugs and is now behaving like an enraged zombie. Despite Mattie’s homicidal disposition and lengthy criminal history, Gail, being the stalwart paladin that she is, refuses to give up on her.

　

***DARK FANTASY WARRIORS***

Up next on the chopping block is Psymon Nordonus, the vigilante hacker from Poison Tongue Tale “Nail Bomb”. Before writing that short story, I used this character in my videogame idea Final Fantasy Hardcore. He was a hacker in that story too, but he also used a steel chain as a whip when getting into hand-to-hand combat. For reference pictures, I’m going to need a good one of a guy in a hoodie, hopefully one that adds to Psymon’s mysterious ways. I’m sure Google will come through for me like it always has.

　

***TELEVISION QUOTE OF THE DAY***

“Y’all don’t know whether to scratch your watch or wind your ass.”

-Todd from “Chrisley Knows Best”-