Sting (the musician, not the wrestler)

 

Every Little Thing I Do Is Funny

(In the style of “Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic” by The Police)

 

VERSE 1

I stood up in front of the class

Gave a presentation so I could pass

From the very first word

Laughter’s all I ever heard

In mass

 

CHORUS

Every little thing I do is funny

Everything I do just cracks them up

Even the professor’s spitting coffee

From his “Number One Teacher” cup

 

VERSE 2

I pulled out a Snickers bar

Because the time for lunch was just too far

Got a big enough belly

One that wiggles like it’s jelly

Har-dee-har!

 

CHORUS

Every little thing I do is funny

Everything I do just cracks them up

Even the professor’s spitting coffee

From his “Number One Teacher” cup

 

BRIDGE

I called them a bunch of names

Stormed out of the room in shame

I’d walk back to my dorm room

To be all doom and gloom

Everyone tried to assure me

They weren’t punching down with glee

They just think my voice is lovely

It’s a low-pitch melody

 

CHORUS

Every little thing I do is funny

Everything I do just cracks them up

Even the professor’s spitting coffee

From his “Number One Teacher” cup

Muse of the Year 2019

***MUSE OF THE YEAR 2019***

Last summer I wrote a blog entry about how every year I have a new muse to inspire my creative work. Why every year? Who knows? This muse is always female and can be a pro-wrestler, actress, singer, or even a fictional character. My one rule for choosing muses is not to use people I know in real life (at least by internet standards). If these people knew I was crushing on them for creativity, I’d probably get sued or slapped with a restraining order. Pretty extreme reaction, but it’s the likeliest of scenarios. Celebrities or fictional characters only. Fictional characters don’t give two shits if you’re crushing on them. And celebrities? Chances are they don’t even know who the fuck I am. You think 2013’s Muse of the Year Ronda Rousey is just randomly perusing my Deviant Art account or blog to see what I think of her? Bullshit, she ain’t going anywhere near my social media. She’s got a lot on her mind, like trying to figure out a way to get a rematch with Becky Lynch after the botched ending to their triple threat match at Wrestlemania.

Last year’s muse was of course Sarah-Jane Redmond, the woman who played Lucy Butler in the 1990’s TV show Millennium. I’m sure Sarah-Jane is a wonderful human being in real life, but her character Lucy haunted my creative daydreams for the whole fucking year in 2018. If not for her, first draft novels like Silent Warrior, Beautiful Monster, and Incelbordination wouldn’t have seen the light of day. Obsessing over seduction will do that to a creative soul. Considering I’m in the process of rewriting Beautiful Monster from the ground up, I’d say Ms. Redmond was a pretty effective muse.

And now that 2018 is in the rear-view mirror, who’s going to be my muse for 2019? Well, this particular woman has been active in burlesque performances since the early 90’s, so that’s a plus. A burlesque dancer being an effective muse? Who would’ve thunk it? In terms of physical appearances and sexual appetite, this woman shares some similarities with Lucy Butler. In terms of alignment, however, they could not be more different. Instead of seducing young men into becoming mediocre versions of themselves, this muse brings the best out of every man she meets. She exudes class, calmness, and positivity. She’s more than a pretty face. She lives her sexy gimmick in her everyday life. She even joked about bathing in her lingerie. She’d totally do that. Without further ado, let me introduce you all to Garrison Kelly’s 2019 Muse of the Year: Dita Von Teese.

For some this is a controversial decision on my part. I accept that. I’ve heard the stories about her relationship with Marilyn Manson. I’ve heard stories about alleged arrogance. I’ve even heard something about her being proud of having her image painted on a drone bomb. I don’t know the intricate details of those stories and quite frankly I’m not going to try and find out. The Dita Von Teese I know and love is calm in the face of sleazy interview questions. She exits her relationships without lusting after her ex’s money or possessions. Just watching her give interviews on You Tube makes me want to up my creative game. Yes, her negative stories could be true, but before I even have the chance to find out, I’m going to enjoy her image for what it is: classic beauty that never goes out of style.

And as long as we’re talking about blog entries from yesteryear, I’m sure most of you remember one I’ve posted about fan fiction group therapy, where fictional characters talk about their feelings while rocking out to heavy metal and eating high calorie foods. Well, I thought it’d be a crazy, yet good idea to have sex therapy as part of this healing process. Whether this fictional character needs a cuddle session, a back massage, or something more, I’m sure it’ll serve a greater purpose beyond me fantasizing about weird shit. Guess who will be the chief sex therapist at Crystal Mountain, as I’ve called the mental health center? You guessed it: Dita Von Teese. Except her character won’t be called that. Her character will named after a little known Pink Floyd song from the early 70’s. No, it’s not Arnold Layne, you dumb shits! It’s Julia Dream! Mmmmmm, Julia Dream. Dreamboat queen. Queen of all my dreams. She’d make an awesome sex therapist.

So what kinds of works could she inspire with her positive and loving aura? What kinds of stories could I write that would exude happiness, lightheartedness, or at the very least psychological recovery? Well, I’m not so sure using Dita Von Teese as inspiration would have been appropriate for this, but Emilio and the Scratching Post is one such positive story. I plan on submitting it to an anthology called Tales of the Siblings Not-So-Grim. That title alone should be enough to clue you in on how lighthearted these stories are. And of course, it doesn’t get more lighthearted than a cuddly old man kitty looking for permanent love.

But until I get that story cleaned up spic and span, there’s no reason why Dita Von Teese can’t be the inspiration for continuing the new version of Beautiful Monster. I can’t picture her being in the same shadow as Shelly Atwood, though. Shelly seduces men (and women) to their own doom, Dita seduces them to greatness. She could be in the same shadow as either Tarja Rikkinen or Llewellyn Xavier. Well, more likely Tarja because Llewellyn is Windham’s sister and it’d be weird if the elf queen tried to seduce her own brother. This ain’t Game of Thrones, motherfucker. It also ain’t Preacher.

I’ve wondered since last year who 2019’s Muse of the Year would be and now I have my answer: a burlesque dancer who’s more than just good looks. She turns beauty and nostalgia into an art form. And yes, she inspires me to do better in my creative work. It’s almost like I’m trying to impress Dita despite the fact that she’ll never find me online. Hmm….Anyways, I’m Garrison Kelly! Even when you feel like dying, keep climbing Crystal Mountain! And while you’re at it, chug some Crystal Mountain Dew and find your serotonin levels!

***LYRICS OF THE DAY***

“I change my clothes ten times before I take you on a date. I’m in a cold sweat, I panic, and it makes me late. I know you never asked for this. I know my shots will always miss. Does everyone stare this way at you? I only look this way at you. I change my clothes ten times before I take you on a date. I get the heebie-jeebies and my panic makes me late. I break into a cold sweat reaching for the phone. I let it ring twice before I chicken out and decide you’re not at home. Does everyone stare this way at you? I only look this way at you. I never noticed the size of my feet until I kicked you in the shins. Will you ever forgive me for the shape I’m in? Does everyone stare this way at you? I only look this way at you. I want to write you a sonnet, but I don’t know where to start. I’m so used to laughing at the things in my heart. Last of all, I’m sorry, ‘cause you never asked for this. I can see I’m not your type and my shots will always miss. Does everyone stare this way at you? I only look this way at you.”

-The Police singing “Does Everyone Stare?”-

Building My Life Around Mental Health

***BEFORE I BEGIN***

I know in the last blog entry I told you all that this current one was going to be about the Wrestling Observer Newsletter awards for 2018, particularly their Most Disgusting Promotional Tactic category. That was a lie. Truth is, I’ve pretty much accepted the fact that I’m on an island with that one, so I’m not going to write it. Spoiler alert: the big winner of that award was WWE’s business relationship with Saudi Arabia. If you followed the news around the time Jamal Khashoggi was murdered, you’ll know why this promotional tactic was pretty fucking bad. Plus, there’s that whole thing about human rights abuses and suppressing women’s freedom.

***BUILDING MY LIFE AROUND MENTAL HEALTH***

If I wanted to, I could elevate my career to newfound levels of fame. I can take certain Skillshare classes on marketing, I can hook up with the right people, I can make an Author Tube platform, I can do all of these things that any sane independent author would do. But the truth is, if I do all of those things and achieve my highest level of fame and fortune, it might come at a steep price. For years now, I’ve built my entire life around two things: staying mentally healthy and knowing when I’m too tired to carry on. Stressing myself out will derail both of those plans.

Taking good care of my mind is the biggest reason why I don’t do a lot of things normal adults should be doing. I don’t apply for fast-paced jobs, I don’t drive a car, I don’t put myself out there socially, because if I do any of these things, my mind is toast. I’ve probably talked about this subject before, so excuse me if any of this sounds familiar to you. Stress plays a huge role in how a mentally ill mind can function. Too much of it can lead to long-lasting damage. Playing it safe sounds like a cowardly strategy, but I’ve been in those stressful situations before and I don’t need another schizophrenic episode. In a way I’ve learned to fear them. I had a lot of schizophrenic episodes during my WWU days. It might have had more to do with my caffeine intake and isolation than actual schoolwork, but I’m still weary about going back to college for any reason.

I know full well that taking risks is the key to success. But what does success look like and what is it worth when the cost is paid? Does it mean being famous? If that’s the case, then it’ll mean I’ll be looked at under a microscope by the entire world. Every review and every criticism will be felt on a magnified level. Escaping fame and getting out from under the microscope is damned near impossible. One bad criticism could result in a firestorm of public shaming. If that’s what fame and fortune will lead to, then I want no part of it. I’ve been publicly shamed before and with a schizophrenic mind it hurt like a motherfucker.

But what else does success look like? Having a shit ton of money? Okay, great, but what am I going to do with all of this money? People give billionaires a hard time for not being able to spend all of their money in their lifetime and rightfully so. I don’t need things like yachts and summer mansions. I don’t need an island in the Caribbean. To be honest, I don’t really know what I’d like to spend copious amounts of money on. Travel? Great, but where to and for how long? Books and CD’s? Perfect, but I do that enough already. Donations? Again, I do that enough already. Concerts? Well, you know where this is heading.

So basically in order to be successful in my line of work, I have to sacrifice my mental health for rewards I have no idea what to do with. Maybe I can use all of my earned income to repair my mental health. I could go down to California and visit Cuddle Sanctuary for platonic spooning. I could go to Las Vegas and buy real sex. I could go on a “Secret Journey” like the Police song says and become a holy man. But wait a minute…I sacrifice my mental health just so I can have enough money to repair it. You talk about a catch-22. Holy shit!

I’m not at all saying that I’m against the idea of fame and fortune. But if I’m going to achieve it, I’m going to have to be careful and realistic about what I want and how I get it. I need to do a lot of soul-searching and a lot of online research. This isn’t something I’m going to take lightly and if I need encouragement from others, I’m going to take it. But until then, I’ll just keep chugging along and satisfying the demons in my head for yet another year. Maybe when I earn enough money, I can buy a cure for schizophrenia! Heh, we all know one doesn’t exist.

In the end, I’m not ashamed of building my life around mental illness. It gets boring sometimes, but it’s better to be bored than in constant psychological torment. At least with boredom I can relax and let my mind wander to lighthearted places instead of dark ones. Apparently, I’m not alone in thinking this. I’ve met people on the Face Book group Writing About Writing who also don’t see fame and fortune as their end game and they too struggle with mental illness. Don’t take this as a sign that I’m completely giving up. Take it as a sign that I’ll be more cautious in my climb to the top. I’m Garrison Kelly! Even when you feel like dying…actually, this would be a good time to slow down and take a breather.

***LYRICS OF THE DAY***

“Upon a secret journey, I met a holy man. His blindness was his wisdom. I’m such a lonely man. And as the world was turning, it rolled itself in pain. This does not seem to touch you. He pointed to the rain. And on the days that followed, I listened to his words. I strained to understand him. I chased his thoughts like birds. You will see light in the darkness. You will make some sense of this. You will see joy in this sadness. You will find this love you missed. And when you’ve made your secret journey, you will be a holy man.”

-The Police singing “Secret Journey”-

***POST-SCRIPT***

On a high note, I only have one more chapter of Emilio and the Scratching Post to write and then it’s off to critiqueville. I might write it tomorrow. I might write it the day after. Or the day after. Or the day after. Either way, I’ll be thankful to see my story in yet another Hollow Hills publication. Wish me luck!

Romantic Obligations

***ROMANTIC OBLIGATIONS***

It seems as though every movie you watch or every book you read is required to have at least one romantic subplot. The story can do fine without one, but it’s shoehorned in there anyways because…reasons? Unfortunately, this obligation has reflected in my own writing as well. In Occupy Wrestling, Mitch McLeod HAD to have Debra Winter as his fiancé. In Beautiful Monster, Windham Xavier HAD to have Tarja Rikkinen as his lover (that’ll change soon enough, trust me). In Silent Warrior, Scott George HAD to have Adrienne Simpson has his underage girlfriend (disturbing, I know). And finally, Incelbordination HAD to have a plot where Oswald Crow was pining for a girlfriend (this one actually makes sense since Incel culture is all about the lack of romantic sex).

I don’t want my readers to think that this is me putting the romantic genre on blast. When executed correctly, romances can leave a lasting impression and make the consumer hunger for more. The biggest knock on some of these romances is that they happen too soon or without enough building up. Me? I’ve only had two relationships in my whole life, yet I somehow feel obligated to write romantic subplots in my stories because that’s what the majority wants. I know how ironic that sounds coming from a guy who preaches individuality in his poetry all the fucking time.

While romance is popular among most consumers, I feel like I can finally be free enough to say that it’s not a requirement. No author should be pressured into putting romance in a story that doesn’t need it. Best friends? Maybe. Casual acquaintances? Perhaps. If I had allowed myself such freedom earlier in my career, I could have saved myself a lot of heartache when it came to ratings and judgment from my audience. While I don’t have a definitive consensus on how Demon Axe turned out, I can safely say that the budding romance between Daniel Mercer and Raven Triscloud was one hundred percent unnecessary. They didn’t spend enough time around each other. They criticized each other a lot. How exactly did they deserve a romantic subplot?

My current WIP is the rewriting of Beautiful Monster, which if you remember the first draft had a romance that DEFINITELY had no business being there. Windham Xavier endured a week of rape and he’s expected to jump into a relationship with Tarja Rikkinen? Bullshit, man! What the fuck was I thinking? If that wasn’t bad enough, they had Porn Hub-esque sex early on in the story. Again, what the fuck was I thinking?! So in this new version of Beautiful Monster, Windham and Tarja’s relationship will be mostly platonic. I say mostly because…well…no spoilers! Only Khlav Khalash! Seriously though, Windham and Tarja’s chemistry will be slower than an old lady crossing the street with a pair of bad knees. I should know how slow that is, because my mom had knee surgery two years ago and is still hurting like a motherfucker. Sigh…

After I rewrite Beautiful Monster and try to dub it as the novel that will save my career, I plan on sending all of my first draft novels to Hollow Hills and rewriting those as well. Will they have romantic subplots? I don’t know and I don’t care either way. I’m free from the shackles of other people’s expectations. If they want to fuck, they’ll fuck. If not, then they’ll watch The Price Is Right. I’ll take Rivers and Lakes for $200, Alex. Wait a minute…

If you don’t want romantic subplots for your stories either, that’s cool with me. I’ll read them anyways and enjoy them just the same. Romance can be fun to read about, but it shouldn’t be a necessity for EVERY…SINGLE…STORY! Hollywood does this a lot and their romances suffer because they’ve been executed too soon with little to no true chemistry. In the words of Eminem’s high-pitched voice, “Let’s just be friends!” I’m Garrison Kelly! Even when you feel like dying, keep climbing the mountain!

***BEAUTIFUL MONSTER PROGRESS***

As of today, I have one prologue and three chapters written. Windham is safe and snug in the shackled confines of Shelly Atwood’s bed. Shelly and Torger had an argument about him being there, which resulted in Shelly grabbing Torger’s groin and squeezing his testicles as hard as she could. Ouch! Chapter four will be told through the point of view of Tarja Rikkinen as she tries to convince Orpheus Rinehart to allow her to retrieve Windham. But first…she has to get through the drooling zombie rednecks known as the Savage Brothers, Christian and Kody. If those aren’t some serious douchey white guy names, I don’t know what else to say.

***LYRICS OF THE DAY***

“I was blue and lonely. I couldn’t sleep a wink. I could only get unconscious if I’d had too much to drink. There was somehow something wrong somewhere. Each day seemed gray and dead. The seeds of desperation were growing in my head. I needed inspiration. A brand new start in life. Somewhere to place affection. But I didn’t want a wife. And then by lucky chance I saw in a special magazine an ad that was unusual, the like I’d never seen. “Experience something different with our new imported toy. She’s loving, warm, inflatable, and a guarantee of joy.” She came all wrapped in cardboard, all pink and shriveled down. A breath of air was all she needed to help her lose that frown. I took her to the bedroom and pumped her with some life. And later in a moment, that girl became my wife. And so I sit her in the corner and sometimes stroke her hair. And when I’m feeling naughty, I blow her up with air. She’s cuddly and she’s bouncy. She’s like a rubber ball. I bounce her in the kitchen and I bounce her in the hall. And now my life is different since Sally came my way. I wake up in the morning and have her on a tray. She’s everything they said she was. I wear a permanent grin. And I only have to worry in case my girl wears thin.”

-The Police reciting poetry from “Be My Girl, Sally”-

***POST-SCRIPT**

Maybe if Windham is getting over his trauma and still feels frisky, he can order his own Sally in the mail and bypass Tarja and Shelly altogether! Come to think of it, I should order a Sally doll too! Hehe!

Beautiful Monster Play List

***BEAUTIFUL MONSTER PLAY LIST***

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

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

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

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

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

***DELAIN: COME CLOSER***

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

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

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

***OTHERWISE: BEAUTIFUL MONSTER***

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

***PANTERA: THIS LOVE***

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

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

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

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

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

***TOTO: I’LL BE OVER YOU***

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

***WITHIN TEMPTATION: FROZEN***

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

***CONCLUSION***

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

***PUBLIC DIALOGUE OF THE DAY***

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

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

GARRISON: Hahahahaha!

Lunatic Justice and Silent Warrior Announcements

***TWO ANNOUNCEMENTS***

I prepared two speeches tonight. Hopefully, I’ll get to use the one in my left pocket. No, I have no idea what that means either; I just heard it on an episode of The Shield. Let’s get started, shall we.

***LUNATIC JUSTICE***

First and foremost, it finally happened. My third collection of poetry, Lunatic Justice, is currently online in paperback and (soon to be) Kindle format, though it’ll take a few days for the book to actually be buyable. The poems cover a wide variety of topics whether it’s politics, anger, violence, drugs, bullying, or even something as simple as being stuck in traffic. There are a few comedy songs in there too whether it’s the David Bowie parody “Ground Control to Uncle Tom” or the ridiculously put-together “Conspiracy Theory”. This book is geared towards mature audiences due to the abundance of cursing, sex references, and delicious bloody violence.

Good Reads Link: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/38324494-lunatic-justice

Amazon Link: https://www.amazon.com/dp/1984137816/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1517543240&sr=1-1

***SILENT WARRIOR, CHAPTER 7***

Remember how I said a few blogs ago how I would never post sex-oriented chapters of Silent Warrior online? Well, my lovely beta reader Marie Krepps suggested that I post them to a safe haven for this kind of content, Wattpad. I wrote chapter seven two days ago and it’s there now if you want to read it. I should warn you all that it’s not all hot and spicy action. There’s some heart-wrenching drama shortly after Scott George gets done stroking his meat. Your hard-on will be dead by the time this chapter is over.

Wattpad Profile: https://www.wattpad.com/user/Garrison-Kelly

I’d give you all the direct link to chapter seven, but I’m exercising a little caution with this one since this blog entry is going live on my non-mature social media accounts.

***SILENT WARRIOR SIDE NOTE: TITLE***

The further I get into writing this novel, the more I question whether Silent Warrior is the best title for it. Sure, it sounds cool and all, but Scott George is neither silent nor a warrior. He’s very outspoken about his opinions and the most violent thing he’s done in this story so far is strangle Alan Young over the back of a bus seat (not to mention that Alan lives through the whole thing). Maybe something I can do tonight is brainstorm a list of possible alternatives for titles. One that I’m thinking about is “A Community of Worms”, which is a reference to the nightmare Scott has in the opening chapter. And yes, that nightmare and its characters will factor into the novel later on, in case you were wondering. I can’t think of any other title ideas at the moment, so I’ll leave it to you guys to let me know what you think of all of this.

***LYRICS OF THE DAY***

“I don’t want to spend the rest of my life looking at the barrel of an Armalite. I don’t want to spend the rest of my days keeping out of trouble like the soldiers say. I don’t want to spend my time in hell looking at the walls of a prison cell. I don’t ever want to play the part of a statistic on a government chart. It’s dark all day and it glows all night. Factory smoke and acetylene light. I face the day with my head caved in looking like something that the cat brought in. And they’re only going to change this place by killing everybody in the human race. They would kill me for a cigarette. But I don’t even want to die just yet. There has to be an invisible sun. It gives its heat to everyone. There has to be an invisible sun. It gives us hope when the whole day’s done.”

-The Police singing “Invisible Sun”-

Every Pic You Post

(In the style of “Every Breath You Take” by The Police.)

Every pic you post

Every friend you poke

Every meme you share

Every feeling you bear

I’ll be browsing you

Every single day

Every app you play

Every Face Book page

Every rant you rage

I’ll be browsing you

I can’t refrain

You’re in the public domain

How vicariously I live

With every like you give

Every video you film

Every bean you spill

Every life event thrill

Every second you kill

I’ll be browsing you

Since you’re here, I’ll look you up with no remorse

You’re already in the public eye, of course

There’s nothing they can do in the police force

There’s no sense in taking my big ass to court

I’ll browse whoever I goddamn well please!

I can’t refrain

You’re in the public domain

How vicariously I live

With every like you give

Every video you film

Every bean you spill

Every life event thrill

Every second you kill

I’ll be browsing you

The Dark Blade

***THE DARK BLADE***

Childhood is a time for developing one’s creativity and imagination. We buy action figures and Legos so that we can act out our own adventures. We draw pictures with our own naïve vision of what the world should be. We build things out of ordinary objects to show that there’s a world beyond their intended use. For me personally, my favorite form of creativity was coming up with ideas for videogames. One of those videogame ideas was intended to be a rival to Squaresoft’s Chrono Trigger and it was called The Dark Blade.

Chrono Trigger as a Super Nintendo game was everything a child could ask for: beautiful storytelling, emotional characters, innovative settings, and exciting game play. Who in their right mind wouldn’t want to play a game about a spiky haired teenager named Crono who travels through time in order to prevent a 1999 apocalypse using lightning magic and katana skills? Who in their prepubescent years wouldn’t have the world’s biggest crush on crossbow fighter Marle or prehistoric vixen Ayla? Who wouldn’t want to use Magus’s shadow magic or Frog’s water magic to overcome the toughest obstacles?

In my pre-teen years, I had a tall task ahead of me if I was going to formulate an RPG that would measure up to the greatness of Chrono Trigger. Therefore, I had The Dark Blade, a supremely underdeveloped story about a spiky haired teenager named David who along with his friends tries to keep the title artifact out of the hands of The Dark Sorcerer (notice the theme of darkness here?). David had the hair of Guile from Street Fighter II, a black karate outfit, ruby boots, vampire fangs (what?!), and the swords of Billy and Jimmy Lee from Double Dragon V. Oh, and he also has the lightning magic of Crono. And he starts the game by going to a carnival, just like Crono.

Being as ignorant as I was about copyright laws, I stole pieces of creative fuel from any source I could find. Princess Crystal Hershey got her last name from the chocolate bar and her outfit from Celes from Final Fantasy VI. Ninja Prince Boris Hershey got his character design from Shadow, also a Final Fantasy VI standout. Nixer (careful how you say that) is a direct rip-off of a Magic: the Gathering card that featured an old ragged man carrying a scythe. Nixer’s magical element was Aura, which is a direct theft of the Aura Bolt technique used by Sabin from Final Fantasy VI.

The Dark Blade’s soundtrack would be stolen directly from albums by The Police, The Moody Blues, Sting, and Metallica. Talk about a bunch of bands that don’t belong in the same concert! Metallica’s “Ride the Lightning” album would serve as battle music, both for normal enemies, mini-bosses, and regular bosses. The Police’s hit “Spirits in the Material World” would serve as carnival music. The Moody Blues’s song “The Voice” would serve as romantic fuel (in a time where I was too young to give a shit about love). Sting’s “Mad About You” would also serve as romantic music even though David and Crystal never officially shack up (again, because I didn’t give two shits and a flying fuck about love back then).

With all of these stolen properties, how would they mesh against the actual story? Somewhere along the way, David would use a lightsaber/baseball bat reminiscent of Star Wars and WWF Wrestlemania: The Arcade Game. He would also ride a hover cycle reminiscent of Space Quest IV. So far, so good. But then we eventually have to get to the depressive dip of the game. Turns out The Dark Sorcerer got a hold of The Dark Blade after all. With its powers, he turned the entire world’s population (except for David, Crystal, Nixer, and Boris) into stone. Turning somebody into a stone statue is straight from the Final Fantasy franchise. Having the bad guy win for a while is the same scenario that happened in Final Fantasy VI when Kefka turned The World of Balance (blue water and green pastures) into the World of Ruin (red water and wastelands).

With the innocence of a child and the creative fuel of a madman, I was sure to have my videogame idea mailed off to Sqauresoft so that they could get cracking on making it. The one thing that kept me from doing so was my brother James’s constant talk about copyright laws and what could happen if I violated them. According to him, I could have my wages garnished and my property stolen by the government. I justified my right to the profits by saying, “I could lock the doors!” Then James said that the Fire Department would come busting through to help the government take my stuff. At one point I whined, “Stop telling me these crummy facts!”, to which he said, “They’re true!”

While I didn’t want my creativity to take a backseat to copyright laws, I had no other choice as I got older and discovered how ridiculous they can be. Viacom and Disney have sued the shit out of anyone and everyone who uploaded their content onto You Tube. Disney has sued a daycare center for using Mickey Mouse decals to decorate the joint. If you want to argue lawsuits, then people these days will sue over anything, and I do mean anything. Donald Trump sued Bill Maher because the comedian said our now president was a descendant of orangutans. James Woods sued a Twitter user for saying that he was a coke head online. The more money you have, the more weight you can throw around in a courtroom. Videogame corporations have a lot of money and by proxy can throw more weight around than WWE Hall of Famers Yokozuna and Rikishi combined.

If The Dark Blade ended up becoming a novel idea in modern day Garrisonism, I suppose I could do away with all of the theft and turn it into something original and fun. People rarely play Super Nintendo games anymore (except for nostalgia purposes on ROM Emulators), so The Dark Blade would have to be a novel. David shouldn’t be such a Gary-Stu for his age, which means no vampire fangs, ruby boots, or dragon swords. Crystal and Boris shouldn’t have the last name Hershey because there have been too many jokes about skid marks over the years thanks to guys like Dave Chappelle. Nixer should have a first name that doesn’t sound like a racial slur. The Dark Sorcerer should have a real name, probably one that doesn’t have “dark” in it.

Turning this childhood videogame idea into a credible novel is a long shot, but I now have the skills and resources to do so as a 31-year-old semi-professional author. Will it rival Chrono Trigger? Ask anybody who’s ever read Occupy Wrestling and they’ll tell you “Hell no!” Then again, nothing can rival Chrono Trigger. It was a special piece of childhood heaven that can’t be taken away no matter how many game consoles 2017 can pump out. You can keep your Halos and Call of Duties and I’ll reminisce in Chrono Trigger’s beauty forever. If anything, I’m clinging to my roots so that I don’t forget how to write The Dark Blade in its truest form. One day, maybe one day David and Crono can have fantasy warfare. We’ve got ears, say cheers! By the way, in case you didn’t know, that last line was stolen from Mickey Mouse Clubhouse. I’m a bigger thief than Locke Cole from Final Fantasy VI. Damn it, I did it again!

***THE NEXT FEW DAYS***

While I’m waiting patiently for the Wrestling Observer Newsletter to come out with their 2016 awards, I’m going to have a few creative projects to occupy my time. I only have seven chapters left to read from Ashley Uzzell’s LGBT fairytale (no, that’s not a pun, shut up!) called “Once Upon a Pastry”. I’ll spend the whole day blitzing right through them and offering her my funniest and most poignant critiques. I also have a Dark Fantasy Warrior that needs drawing and his name is Lord McCain, the elf sorcerer from “Emoticon Artist”. Once I’ve officially drawn one hundred colored Dark Fantasy Warriors, I’m going to put their faces in a meme like I did with the uncolored ones. Somewhere along the way, I’ll write the shit out of Demon Axe’s twelfth chapter (don’t rush me, Writer’s Circle, I’ll get to it eventually!). Once I’m done with these tasks, I can begin work on editing the shit out of Poison Tongue Tales and getting it ready for publication. I’ve already edited the first three stories, so that’s SOME progress (again, don’t rush me, Writer’s Circle!). Once I complete these projects, then and only then can I lament not having a WWE Network subscription so that I can see this year’s Royal Rumble and see Bobby Roode win the NXT Championship from Shinsuke Nakamura at the TakeOver special before that. Wish me luck!

***TELEVISION QUOTE OF THE DAY***

DET. CLAUDETTE WYMS: Where were you last night?

SUSPECT: I was at home jerking off into a sock. You guys need the evidence?

-The Shield-

John Bush and George Kerry

Although I’m using former WWE superstars The Basham Brothers as a reference picture, I don’t want you to think John Bush and George Kerry are anything like them except for how they look. During their time in the WWE, Doug and Danny Basham were former WWE Tag Team Champions and had various gimmicks. They started out as a generic tag team and over time became bondage slaves for Shaniqua, secret service agents for John Bradshaw Layfield, and armored security guards for Paul Heyman. While the Basham Brothers don’t work for WWE anymore, they did leave something behind for the fans to remember them by.

John Bush and George Kerry are nothing like that. They are the definition of what a generic tag team should be. They come out to the ring wearing underwear-style tights and boots, they never get the chance to use a microphone, and their theme music is “Voices Inside My Head” by The Police (no disrespect to Sting, Andy Summers, and Stewart Copeland). Their wrestling maneuvers include generic things like the scoop slam, the vertical suplex, the hip toss, the running clothesline, and the double axe handle off the top rope. In short, the most creative thing about John Bush and George Kerry is how they got their ring names: by swapping the names of the 2004 Presidential Election contenders John Kerry (Democrat) and George W. Bush (Republican).

You’re asking yourself why I would ever have a use for plain Jane motherfuckers like John Bush and George Kerry. Maybe it’s because they’re a manifestation of what I’m like when in public. On the internet, I have a strong presence. I post short stories, Fireball Nightmare chapters, Garrison’s Library entries, Deviant Art journals, and the occasional thread on a Good Reads group I’m a part of. Even in the real world when I’m talking with my own friends and family, I’m popping off jokes left and right and never miss a beat.

In public life, I’m anything but exciting. I keep to myself except for when I make a purchase, I never smile, I never say “Hi” to anybody, and whenever somebody tries to make conversation with me, I give them the most basic, short answer I can find. For example, when I’m getting a quarter-yearly buzz cut at Hair Masters, my barber will try to make small talk with me. She’ll ask me things like, “What do you do for a living?” and my answer is simple: “I’m unemployed”, an answer that is delivered with a blunt affect. Sometimes she’ll ask, “What are your plans for the evening?” and I’ll say, “I don’t have any.” Personally, I’m never in the mood for small talk with someone who is only friendly to me because I’m a customer and not because they’re actually interested in my boring ass life.

John Bush and George Kerry are a representation of my plain Jane traits. I often fantasize about being a manager in the WWE and having verbal spats with Stephanie McMahon and Triple H (both of which deserve the Wrestling Observer Newsletter award this year for Worst Gimmick). Unfortunately, if I tried to be as talkative in the ring as I am on the internet, I would stutter and my voice power would be minimal. That’s why I hated giving presentations in college and high school: I fumble over my words too easily and the teacher penalizes me for basically being a hardcore introvert. But if John Bush and George Kerry are going to rage against the machine and tell everybody they’re full of shit, they’ll cease to become boring in the eyes of the public. Maybe they’ll get better names and better gimmicks as a result of that. Who knows?

　

***WRESTLING DIALOGUE OF THE DAY***

JBL: You’d be in a bad mood if you won the lottery!

MICHAEL COLE: I did win the lottery and I only got two dollars!

Mars Deathstyle

If you work in a creative field, you’ve probably heard the phrase “Inspiration can strike anytime” at least a million times. When it came to the creation of a character named Mars Deathstyle, inspiration was a handicapped match in which my opponents were Diablo II and Star Wars: Knights of the Old Republic II. You see, Mars is a dual class character. He’s a barbarian (Diablo II) slash Jedi consular (Star Wars: KOTOR II). If we need an official name for his combined character class, it would be a shaman since they’re basically primitive wizards.

Mars Deathstyle was the voice of reason character in a 2006 dark fantasy movie script I wrote called City of Darkness. The movie was about an ongoing war between the light paladins (followers of Luther) and dark paladins (followers of Quinn). Apparently, being the voice of reason in this movie script is a 24/7 job, because the main characters changed alignment every five pages. There was one character who went from a light paladin to a dark paladin to someone completely neutral. The other characters were no more decisive.

When you’re a staff-wielding badass barbarian wizard like Mars Deathstyle and you have to preach a message to these indecisive bastards, how do you do it without going insane? You’d truly have to know something that the main characters don’t. That secret ended up being Luther and Quinn purposefully pitting human warriors against each other for their mutual amusement. The whole war was one big sham. Imagine that: war isn’t the answer after all.

Okay, so you have access to this very dark secret, now you have to get your message out to the participants of this war. The only problem is, the followers of these two “deities” are paladins and paladins are known for being devout zealots. Mars would have had a better time rehabilitating members of the Westboro Baptist Church. The stronger the zeal, the taller the task.

To do Mars’s job of convincing people they’re wrong, you have to have a certain set of skills. These skills include, but are not limited to powerful voice inflection, research of facts, natural charisma, and resources to spread this message where a booming voice isn’t always enough. To my surprise, Mars was actually able to put an end to this war with these things alone.

Ergo, the next time he gets used in a story of mine, he will be known as a wise peacekeeper. The only time when he’ll use his combative magic is if his life is being threatened. And trust me, with a last name like Deathstyle, you don’t want this crotchety old man throwing a fireball or a lightning bolt at you. Mars may be close to the retirement age, but his career is far from over.

　

***LYRICS OF THE DAY***

“I don’t want to spend the rest of my life looking at the barrel of an ArmaLite. I don’t want to spend the rest of my days keeping out of trouble like the soldiers say. I don’t want to spend my time in hell looking at the walls of a prison cell. I don’t ever want to play the part of a statistic on a government chart. There has to be an invisible sun. It gives its heat to everyone. There has to be an invisible sun. It gives us hope when the hope is gone.”

-The Police singing “Invisible Sun”-

"Every Breath You Take" by The Police

Whenever the song “Every Breath You Take” comes on the radio, I always make it a point to say I can relate to it because, like Sting, I’m willing to go that extra mile just to see how my honeys are doing. And yes, I can see the irony of a band called The Police performing a song about stalking, which is against the law. I like to kid and joke, but in all reality, I don’t have the means to be a stalker. I’ve had lots of crushes throughout my life, but no means to track them. My very first crush was a girl in high school named Shona. I had another one in my advanced computer applications class named Autumn. Two crushes in the days where Face Book and My Space weren’t even big deals yet. So how exactly would I have access to them? Oh sure, I could do the “manly” thing and actually ask them on dates. Not only was I too shy in those old days, but there was a reason for it. I somehow had it in me that if I get slapped in the face or laughed at as a result of asking a girl out, I deserved it. There was a separate girl I wanted absolutely no attention from, but got it anyways, named Julia. I felt like I had the right to turn her down the hard way if she tried to make advances on me (because let’s face it, when you’ve had PTSD before, anything can seem traumatic). This “human right” of being allowed to use rough means to turn down a date was one of the most harmful beliefs I could have had (even more harmful than the ones brought on by schizophrenia). From that point on, I kept my distance from the girls I liked because I didn’t want to offend them with traumatizing behavior. There were small moments in which I did flirt with girls, but the flirting was somehow interpreted as inappropriate and then I sank further into my shell. Now that I actually do have a girlfriend (her name is Brianna), I can’t come out of my passive shell long enough to make any major moves. There were even times when she was puzzled as to why I didn’t kiss her back when she kissed me first. Now that I’m this far in my life and haven’t participated in most of it, I feel like I can relate to “Every Breath You Take” even more. No, I don’t think of it as a stalking anthem, so don’t get any ideas of me being creepy. Notice how Sting says, “I’ll be watching you.” There’s a huge difference between watching and participating. In all of my relationships with girls, I’ve been a part of the audience instead of the main attraction. Whenever I tried to climb the audience barrier, security came and threw me out of the arena. What does any of this have to do with writing? It’s simple. If I can’t be the main attraction, I might as well start my own show with the romantic short stories and novels I write. There’s no point in denying my characters the love they deserve. Then again, as Stephen Chbosky once said, we get the love we think we deserve.

　

***HIGH SCHOOL DIALOGUE OF THE DAY***

STUDENT: I think that girl likes you.

ME: I don’t blame her.

　

***TELEVISION QUOTE OF THE DAY***

“You need to stop acting like Larry Flynt.”

-Todd Chrisley from “Chrisley Knows Best”-

Pre-Paid Rollercoaster Dream

Dreams say a lot about people, even if the message isn’t readily available. For the first time in a while, I had a dream that could actually be explained. It used to be I had weird ass dreams about going back to school or losing my teeth. But this one was something worthy enough for a Garrison’s Library post. I’m dreaming of being at a theme park and wanting to ride a pre-paid rollercoaster. The more money you put in the machine, the faster it will go. Not knowing about this stipulation ahead of time, I put in a quarter and I might as well have been riding on the back of a turtle. When the ride was over, I fished through my wallet for a twenty dollar bill. By the time I found it, the theme park was closed and I didn’t get to go on a fast ride. I told this dream to my sister-in-law Susan and she actually had a good interpretation of what it could mean. The rollercoaster is a representation of my life and the money I put into the machine is the effort I put into improving my life. I put in a quarter and got minimal results. I wanted to put in a twenty dollar bill, but it was too late. Maybe my subconscious is trying to tell me that it’s too late to improve my situation beyond selling 99 cent books on Smash Words. Truth is, I can put any amount of effort into improving my life, it’s all a matter of having the right amount of energy and tolerance for the negatives. But let’s say I didn’t have a twenty dollar bill. I could have just as easily had a hundred dollar bill. A hundred dollars will go a long way in making a rollercoaster ride fast and furious. At the same time, spending a hundred dollars in one place is recklessly wasteful. If I put too much effort into improving my life, I could end up getting hurt. A lot of self-published authors go around the country selling paperbacks out of the trunk of their car. Some of them relentlessly submit their books to traditional publishing houses until they say yes. That would be an example of me spending a hundred dollars on a rollercoaster ride. I don’t have a car, so I have no trunk to sell paperbacks out of. The nearest publishing house that would be remotely interested in looking at my works is in Seattle and I live in Port Orchard. Do I really need to spend a hundred dollars on a rollercoaster ride if it goes so fast I fall out of my seat? If someone would like to tell me what else is there besides shilling my e-books on Good Reads, I’m happy to listen. Until then, I’ve got a whole bunch of quarters burning a hole in my pocket. Maybe some pennies. I might even go full-on crazy and put a wing nut in the machine.

　

***LYRICS OF THE DAY***

“It may seem a million miles away, but it gets a little closer everyday. One world is enough for all of us.”

-The Police singing “One World (Not Three)”

Pink Floyd the Wall

Allow me to paint a picture for you. It’s the mid-90’s and I’m still extremely young. My dad plays a video cassette of various music videos he recorded off of VH1. The ones I’m waiting for particularly are those of The Police. Before that, I get a music video that could easily be defined as the most frightening I’ve ever seen. It’s a sequence from the movie Pink Floyd the Wall, particularly from Goodbye Blue Sky to Another Brick in the Wall, Pt. 2. It all begins with the Union Jack turning into a bloody cross, which is horrifying enough. But then they had to have a sequence where putty-faced children march through an abandoned cookie factory only to end up getting ground into sausage near the end. The very next day, I ordered a meatball marinara sandwich at Subway and I’m barely able to eat the fucking thing because the meatballs look like ground up children and the marinara sauce looks like blood from the Union Jack. Fast forward several years later, namely to my sophomore year of high school. I finally get to watch Pink Floyd the Wall from beginning to end. After the first time, I became an instant fan of the imagery that scared the shit out of me as a child. And then I would watch the movie over and over again as a means of escapism. That and I loved the music of Pink Floyd. Eventually, I began to call this movie my own personal bible, which might not have gone over so well in a town full of Christian conservatives such as Chehalis. The lesson I took away from this movie was not the obvious one of taking responsibility for your actions, but instead one of resisting everybody’s attempts to change who I am. During the sequence for The Happiest Days of Our Lives, Pink’s teacher reads one of his poems in a sarcastic and insulting manner before smacking Pink’s hand with his own pencil. That’s one way people try to change who you are: by insulting you and making you ashamed of your creativity. Folks, I’m here to tell you that no matter how many times someone insults your creative ways, never trade them for mundane conformity. Don’t put on a suit and tie when you can easily write poetry in your pajamas. Don’t put on a hardhat and overalls when you can write a movie script in your underwear. Ever since considering Pink Floyd the Wall my own personal bible, every insult I had ever taken in my life was construed as an attempt to make me a boring person. When a random kid started calling me a crackhead for instance, I took that as an insult of my character. So I did the one thing that every emotional, testosterone-pumped teenager did in those days: I ran up to him one day, kicked him in the ass, grabbed him around the neck, and wrestled him to the floor. I would have rained punches down on him, but I think he got the message. I never heard from him again. Thanks, Pink Floyd the Wall, for reminding me to continue writing offensive literature no matter what criticism it took in the past!

　

***SONG DIALOGUE OF THE DAY***

“Oh my god, what a fabulous room! Are all these your guitars?! God, this place is bigger than our apartment! Uh, can I get a drink of water? You want some? Huh? Oh wow, look at this tub! Want to take a bath?! What’re you watching? Hello? Are you feeling okay?”

-The groupie from “One of My Turns” by Pink Floyd-