Flip the Kill Switch

VERSE 1

Story after story about violence so gory

It ain’t Hollywood glory, the nations are warring

Bright and early morning, air raid sirens give the warning

The napalm is pouring, children sleep without snoring

I get it all for free on my pretty little screen

I hear the little “DING!”, now I want to fucking scream

He says, “There’s no such thing as pain and suffering”

What the hell does that mean? Aren’t you watching them bleed?!

 

CHORUS 1

Turn it off! Can’t take anymore!

Turn it off! Don’t want to hear about war!

Take the screen and throw it like a son of a bitch!

Hurry up and end it! Flip the kill switch!

 

VERSE 2

Post after post of self-deprecating roasts

What they want the most is to be floating ghosts

Standing so close to the edge with the rope

It’s not a gallows joke, there really is no hope

I try to talk some sense to the ones who crave death

Don’t even ride the fence, it ain’t worth it in the end

He says, “If I up and went, I won’t have to pay the rent”

Are you fucked up in the head? No one wants to see you dead!

 

CHORUS 2

Turn it off! Can’t take anymore!

Turn it off! What’d you do that for?!

Take the screen and wake you up from the ditch!

Take your torture machine and flip the kill switch!

 

BRIDGE

Look around you, we’ve got so much in common

None of our lives turned out the way we wanted

Big dreams of a world where we keep the good times rolling

Lost forever to what we call doom-scrolling

The One

VERSE 1

“Surf the internet in incognito mode?

You’re on your way to hell, a lonely road

Pray to god and take your ginkgo biloba

Stop drinking every bottle of diet soda”

Your medical advice must be so nice

For those on a diet of crackers of rice

You care so much if I’m seduced and enticed

By the ladies on the screen who bring the spice

 

PRE-CHORUS

Since you’re so emotionally invested

Here’s a little challenge so unexpected

 

CHORUS 1

Find me! The one who cares

Find me! The one who stares

At me with pretty eyes

Makes my spirit rise, destroys your lies

Find me! The one who cares

Find me! The one who shares

Her bed with me tonight

It’s a trick question, just admit I’m right

 

VERSE 2

“Yo, bro! Just swallow these red pills

Watch some UFC, get those bloody thrills

Don’t simp for nobody, go get yourself laid

It doesn’t count if your lover gets paid”

I’ve never seen so many SWERFS in one whole place

Who never gave a woman her own O-face

That’s okay, I haven’t done that myself

So I’m jerking it raw for my mental health

 

PRE-CHORUS

Since you’re so emotionally invested

Here’s a little challenge so unexpected

 

CHORUS 1

Find me! The one who cares

Find me! The one who stares

At me with pretty eyes

Makes my spirit rise, destroys your lies

Find me! The one who cares

Find me! The one who shares

Her bed with me tonight

It’s a trick question, just admit I’m right

 

VERSE 3

“Your computer’s slowing down, are you watching corn?

There must be other ways to keep your dick warm

Go touch some grass and then go get some ass

Here’s your invoice for the day, credit or cash?”

Five hundred bucks? Who’s got that kind of money?

I could have spent it in The Land of Milk and Honey

Oh wait, you’re one of them Elon Musk tech bros

Is that why you’ve got brown stains on your nose?

 

CHORUS 2

Oh well! It feels like no one cares

Oh well! It feels like no one wears

Every little hat I’ve got

You couldn’t walk in my shoes, couldn’t take my spot

Oh well! It feels like no one cares

Oh well! It feels so unfair

And now I sound just like a guy

With a microphone and a podcast, why?

Gone

“Don’t fall in love with strangers on the internet

Even though their beauty is impossible to forget

There are real life girls who’d love to take you to bed”

It’s the world’s shortest line, because they’re all gone

 

“Don’t spend all your time watching You Tube clips

While you’re munching down on a bag of cheesy chips

There’s so much cinema, characters you want to ship”

There’s just one problem, the best of them are gone

 

“Stop laying in bed when there’s so much to create

Never mind that the discourse is covered in hate

You can counter it with love, why would you want to wait?”

I’ll tell you why: because the good ones are gone

 

“Mother Nature is the very best antidepressant

The cost is cheap for every working-class peasant

You can feed the squirrels, sing with the pheasants”

It’s too hot outside, because the ozone is gone

 

“Get yourself a car, show off your convertible

Get yourself a job, get paid to be serviceable

Buy all the shit you want, stack it high and vertical”

Where are all the good bosses? Oh wait, they’re gone

 

Just gone! Gone! Gone without a trace!

A shitshow of a world is what came in its place

I’ve never seen a broken spirit with a happy face

It’s camouflage for authenticity they want to erase

 

“Can’t we all just get along?” Fuck no, we can’t!

Not as long as we’re repeating the same racist chant

Not as long as the elite cuts us off at the knees

And brainwashes everyone with the greatest of ease

 

Gone! Gone! Gone without a trace!

One Million Murderers

VERSE 1

Some people kill for a living

It’s the only contribution they’re giving

Some people kill because it’s fun

To call transgender daughters sons

Some people kill for their belief

That the world is populated by thieves

Some people kill with their words

The most racist shit you’ve ever heard

 

CHORUS

What’s the difference between trolls and serial killers?

Nothing! Nothing!

What’s the difference between Red and Black Pillers?

Not a goddamn thing!

What’s the difference between a bigot and a bully?

Not a whole lot that I can see!

What’s the difference when everybody’s hurting her?

All I see is one million murderers!

 

VERSE 2

Keyboard Kung Fu isn’t a real martial art

But with a gun in your hand, it’s not a bad start

A You Tube hit piece isn’t cinematic heaven

You did no research, what are you, in grade seven?

Pizza Bombing never leveled Hiroshima

You’re just a walking disaster, someone call FEMA

A birth certificate isn’t a flag worth flying

Instead of doxing, try boxing, fists up, stop crying

 

CHORUS

What’s the difference between trolls and serial killers?

Nothing! Nothing!

What’s the difference between Red and Black Pillers?

Not a goddamn thing!

What’s the difference between a bigot and a bully?

Not a whole lot that I can see!

What’s the difference when everybody’s hurting her?

All I see is one million murderers!

 

BRIDGE

Lez-be honest, you fell in love with her

Masturbation fantasies were all a blur

You want her to blow, but she said no

Pull the trigger, dick gets bigger, and then call her a ho

 

CHORUS

What’s the difference between trolls and serial killers?

Nothing! Nothing!

What’s the difference between Red and Black Pillers?

Not a goddamn thing!

What’s the difference between a bigot and a bully?

Not a whole lot that I can see!

What’s the difference when everybody’s hurting her?

All I see is one million murderers!

Temptation

PART ONE: TEMPTATION IN HEAVEN

In my head, there is only heaven

The angels here are stuff of legends

Manic Pixie Dream Girls don’t exist

Except in a euphoric state of bliss

 

Lovely teachers in dresses and sandals

More than my chemicals could ever handle

They catch me staring and only smile back

Give them some wine and help them relax

 

Whoever said You Tube isn’t eHarmony

Never met the angels that are charming me

Closing distance with hugs and kisses

A future with all of them as my missus

 

When wrestling women get done in the ring

They turn up the sweetness and make my heart sing

They’re more than the skimpy gear that they wear

They’re reasons to stroke their soft silky hair

 

It doesn’t matter if I’m weird or lack money

They call me cupcake and call me honey

I get to be a star and then kiss the sky

Kiss magical women and make them cry

 

TELEVISION DIALOGUE

“Heaven? Hmph! Whatever made you think you were in heaven, Mr. Valentine? This IS the other place!”

 

PART TWO: THE AWAKENING

I spent too long in my own fantasies

The real world has so much they’re asking me

Family and friends haven’t seen me in weeks

My clothes are piling up, my body reeks

 

I got work to do and a legacy to build

I’m still creative and I’ll die on that hill

These novel characters are stuck in limbo

While I spent my days with imagined sex symbols

 

Read a book and your ignorance will die

But I can’t find the energy, can’t find the time

Drifting in and out of consciousness

Another reason to be lacking confidence

 

Build Legos like I did when I was a kid

I’m still a kid, but just a little bit mid

My hall of fame is showing its shame

When my broken promises are all the same

 

Do chores around the house, make it clean

Your domestic mistakes should be heard and not seen

Scrub the dishes and take out the garbage

For god’s sake, it should smell like a botanical garden

 

Talk to your people, talk to your pets

One chance in this life is all you get

Tell them you love them no matter what

Save them from your pain that deeply cuts

 

PART THREE: BACK TO HELL

I’m exiled from heaven, but I can’t go back to hell

The demons were the reason I was so unwell

Fighting and fucking, two sides of a coin

Stroking the tip before a kick in the groin

 

I fought so many battles with the forces of hell

That they’re often too traumatic, I shouldn’t tell

Screams, rage, death, blood

Spending so many nights face down in the mud

 

I’m just too tired to keep swinging my axe

I wish there was some sort of therapy tax

I wish there was somebody that I could ask

To kill the demons for me, but don’t let it last

 

I was born in the fire and I’ll never retire

It was never a reason for me to be a crier

Suck it up, suck it in, get back in the cage

Until I hit senior citizen age

 

If I live that long, my brain will turn to shit

And my hospital gown will be a perfect fit

Go under the knife for the rest of my life

As the memories fade of an imaginary wife

Dear Aunt Ruth 2023

Dear Aunt Ruth,

 

Thank you so much for the $20 check you sent me for my birthday. A little extra money will always be helpful to me. My kitty girl Piper had to go to the vet and the bill took a lot out of me. But she’s very much worth every penny. I love petting her and listening to her purr while she rubs her head against me. I hope to keep her for a long, long time even though she’s in her elder years now. She’s my little grandma kitty!

 

In a year full of creative burnout and generally low productivity, I did manage to find some silver linings in the first half of 2023. One of them was a rock concert in Seattle put on by Nothing More with Crown the Empire and Thousand Below opening for them. I had no idea who the openers were prior to going, but they delivered when it came to putting on a damn good show. I hope to own their entire discographies someday. Nothing More (yes, that is their band name) brought out the big guns with their energetic performances and emotional brand of rock and roll. They even have a machine made out of auto parts called the Scorpion Tail, which is used to create electronic sounds and basically give the lead singer something to go crazy on. This was my third time seeing Nothing More, with the previous two times being when they opened for Papa Roach in 2018 and opened for Ghost in 2019. Now that they had the stage all to themselves, they proved why they deserved to be headliners for many years to come. The fact that Nothing More has so little exposure just makes them criminally underrated. Anyone who likes heavy rock and roll should give them a listen. They won’t regret it.

 

But of course, not all of my silver linings can be about going out in public and mingling with strangers. Sometimes my introversion takes over and I need a good book to read. One of those good books was a collection of poetry and photography by Rachel Oates called “Reflections on Healing”. If you don’t know who she is, she’s a British Youtuber who make video essays about feminism, left-wing politics, atheism, and sometimes book reviews. She also occasionally shows off pictures of her Staffy dog Kyra, who has these saggy jowls and a permanently happy face. As good as Rachel’s poetry is in her book, the subject matter was incredibly heavy as it dealt with topics like psychological trauma, domestic violence, and growing up poor to name a few. But even with these difficult parts of her past, Rachel Oates has grown up to be a loving and kind human being, forever breaking the cycle of all the evil things that have happened to her. We celebrate cycle-breakers in this family, so her book gets five stars out of five, no question about it. Because the book contains poetry and it’s less than a hundred pages long, the reading experience goes by quickly, but the emotional connection stays with you forever.

 

Another book I read over the summer was a graphic novel called “Ghostbusters: Spectral Shenanigans, Vol. 1”. If you’ve ever watched a Ghostbusters movie before, then you know what you’re going to get out of this book: smart-ass characters, paranormal goodness, and a nice combination of comedy and drama. What fascinates me a lot about the Ghostbusters franchise as a whole is the names of the lead characters: Peter Venkmann, Ray Stantz, Egon Spengler, and Winston Zeddemore. I don’t know how the creators of the franchise came up with these names, but the style is definitely something you associate with Ghostbusters. Same thing when the 2016 all-female movie came out and had characters named Erin Gilbert, Abby Yates, Jillian Holtzmann, and Patty Tolan. Yep, those sound like Ghostbuster names to me. As an author myself, character names are interesting to me. I sure as hell won’t have any of my fictional characters be named John Smith or Jack Anderson. Boring! Anyways, before I get lost in my tangent, the graphic novel gets an easy five stars out of five. It was good, simple fun that didn’t appear to have any major flaws that I’m aware of. Sometimes that’s all a book has to be: good, simple fun.

 

The progress on my own writing has been slow due to constant burnout, but then again, resting up is just as important as the work itself. That’s something I have to constantly remind myself every time I feel like beating myself up. I’ve often referred to the 2020’s as the Golden Age of Tiredness, because everybody’s feeling exhausted due to one thing or another. We’ll get through this together. We’ll have up days and down days, but the exhaustion isn’t permanent no matter how many times it feels that way. I’ll have my day of victory, even if it’s not today or tomorrow. That $20 check will go a long way in making sure that happens. Thank you, Aunt Ruth. Thank you so much!

 

 

Love,

Garrison

American Grass-Touchers Association

When you touch the grass with your bridal gown

You too can be the Star of the County Down

But that’s miles away from the place you stay

A ticket to ride would cost your annual pay

Think globally, use your pleasant demeanor

Act locally, that’s where the grass is greener

Take Princess Puppy-Duppy to the public park

Take in the sunshine and symphony of barks

Too much drama on the information highway

Holy war on Sunday, fight night on Friday

Working your ass off, come home to a new grind

Let’s see who’s narcissistic, let’s see who whined

Pick a side, any side, just pick the right one

Reach through the screen with a loaded gun

It doesn’t work like that, you simping tankie

Your face is neon red and your ass is achy

Let’s go to the movies, have a few beers

Put some club music in our bloody ears

Blast down the road in the highest gear

Make memories that last years and years

The American Grass-Touchers Association

We’re the friends you love, the easiest vacation

Your brain will thank you, quiet down for a change

No more schizophrenic songs in a tone-deaf range

Friends are forever, your idols never knew you

Ask for an autograph, they’ll say, “Screw you!”

No one needs a pedestal five miles high

Don’t let them say otherwise, it’s a grifter’s lie

We got your back just like we got the check

We got the gasoline, ain’t no car wrecks

We got the hugs, we got endless fun

I enjoyed this night, let’s do another one

When you hit the sack, you’re still awake

Anticipating more memories you’ll make

Your phone is buzzing, let’s check the drama

Or let the sandman sing you to sleep like mama

"Reflections on Healing" by Rachel Oates

BOOK TITLE: Reflections on Healing

AUTHOR: Rachel Oates

YEAR: 2022

GENRE: Poetry and Photography

SUBGENRES: Mental Health, Feminism, and Abuse

GRADE: A

Rachel Oates has always had a complicated relationship with poetry, whether she was critiquing it on her You Tube channel or writing some of her own. But through it all, her writing skills shine brilliantly in this collection of poetry. She explores uncomfortable topics through a sensitive lens. Even when the poems don’t have happy endings, they never feel exploitative. They feel like she’s being true to herself and using her hurtful experiences to help others who are going through the same thing. In addition to helping other victims, these poems are also a middle finger to anybody who would ever beat or degrade another human being through the façade of compliments and love-bombing. Rachel Oates fancies herself a rookie in the poetry genre, but you wouldn’t know that from how expertly she handles the written word. That alone is worth an A grade.

One of my favorite poems in this book is Romb, a title which is not a typo, but a well-crafted pun. She talks about having a room to herself only for judgmental neighbors and men in suits to condescend to her and tell her how she should live in it. This is all of course a metaphor for her womb and how pro-life activists are every bit as nosy and intrusive as the people judging her room. Rachel says in one of her videos that a goal of poetry is to find innovative ways to say what the poet wants to say. She certainly lived up to her own advice in this poem and that’s a recurring theme throughout the entire book. She may be a rookie, but she’s a student first and foremost and is therefore a serial learner who takes in so much creative fuel before starting her projects. Learning doesn’t stop after graduating college. She’ll no doubt take this knowledge with her if she decides to put out another book of poetry.

Another poem I enjoyed was the much more disturbing Puppet Master, where she once again uses innovative comparisons to describe a serious topic, this time being abused by one of her now ex-boyfriends. Oh sure, the puppet master has pretty dolls and he assures you that you’re the prettiest of them all, different from the others. And through this manipulation and psychological torture, you believe these lies while becoming made of wood and strings yourself, strings that leave bruises from being tightly bound, and wood that doesn’t move until the puppet master says so. Thankfully, the poem ends on a high note of Rachel leaving her boyfriend and starting the healing process. But man, does this poem hit me where it hurts the most. While I’ve only had two romantic relationships in my whole life and neither of them were that bad in hindsight, I did have other people in my life bombard me with hate and then suck up to me with love and compliments. Rachel and I may both be atheists, but we can surely agree that there’s a special place in hell for people who gaslight and abuse their loved ones.

Of course, the other genre this book falls under is photography. She definitely has been engaging in this craft for a long period of time, judging from how professional and expressive each photo is. I especially like the one she took of downtown Southbank. Then again, cityscape photography has always been fascinating to me, whether it’s the bright lights, cool water, or beautiful colors in the sky. Honestly, Rachel could take pictures of mundane objects and it would still be considered great art by virtue of her own artistic integrity and personal lens (no pun intended). That’s the mark of a true artist: you know who made the art because their personal voice and point of view shines through in the most recognizable way possible.

This book is less than a hundred pages long, so you can breeze right by it in no time at all. But the poetry and photography will stay with you long after the reading experience is over. I will remember Rachel Oates’s work for the rest of my life, not only because of the raw vulnerability, but also because of the skill in which she executes her writing. I look forward to more publications from her, just as I always look forward to her upcoming You Tube videos. She smashes the stereotype of You Tubers being cash grabbers when it comes to publishing books. She’s serious about her craft and she will prove it to you over and over again until it stays with you forever. Noticing a theme here? Nothing less than five stars. Brilliant and heart-wrenching!

Autism Burnout Video Playlist

 Well…I nuked my Twitter account…and Face Book refuses to promote You Tube videos…so I decided to make a nice blog post of what I like to call my Autism Burnout Video Playlist. Maybe if you’re burned out in some way, you can use these videos to get you through that as well. Here we go:

1. Reads with Rachel roasting Cassandra Claire over her plagiarism accusations: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V9ZbqClnLNE

2. Vaush responding to Keir Starmer’s comments about J.K. Rowling: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kZ2Xohvf-PA

3. Shark3ozero roasting a Tik Toker who disrespects human remains: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Rx-gnoGxs_Y

4. Ginny Di writes a one-off D&D horror campaign: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R3I4ZPbUhP0

5. The Take analyzing Elon Musk’s ownership of Twitter: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q3NO1laalXI

6. iilluminaughtii exposing Girls Gone Wild’s sex crimes: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G2uNYBD2nPg

Happy watching!

Love From a Safe Distance

VERSE 1

The roads are closed, nowhere to go

Bury my eyes in the blue light glow

Watching her talk with an angel’s voice

About democracy and being pro-choice

I hang on her words in a loving embrace

Rosy pink cheeks and a grin on my face

Call it simping or whatever you please

Excuse me while I sigh in a gentle breeze

PRE-CHORUS

When I went to bed

She stayed in my head

And this is what she said

CHORUS 1

I live in Canada and I love you

Buy a plane ticket and dinner for two

We can dance in the city streets

Nervous? I’ll wrap you in flannel sheets

None of my fans should ever be alone

It’s time for you to shed that heart of stone

You wake up and find I was never there

But parasocial love just can’t compare

VERSE 2

She reads my favorite books, writes some of her own

In an army of fan boys, I never feel alone

Brought together by the diamonds in her eyes

But only one of us will get past the other guys

She’s got a husband and needs nobody else

But we can still try to be lovers ourselves

We could head to the bar, maybe touch some grass

“Notice me, Senpai! I’m your favorite in class!”

PRE-CHORUS

When I went to bed

She stayed in my head

And this is what she said

CHORUS 2

I live in England and I love you

Cross the waters if you love me too

We can hold hands in the scary darkness

Rest your head in my lap, listen to pop artists

I’m sorry you spend your nights all alone

But I’m a call away on the telephone

You wake up and find it was all a dream

The coldness of it all makes you want to scream

BRIDGE

This isn’t E-Harmony, that’s what they all say

It’s not Plenty of Fish, so get the hell away

It’s not Tinder, don’t think she’s here to play

She doesn’t know you nor would she want to

CHORUS 3

I live in Australia and I love you

I never said that, so don’t call me a prude

Get some medication, not a worldwide vacation

Stay in your own cozy little bitty nation

I’ll block you forever, so this is goodbye

I don’t even know why you had to try

To get in my life, I’m already a wife

Sorry for your broken dreams and mockery memes

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.

25 Things That Got Me Through 2020

Earlier today, Ian Danskin aka Innuendo Studios put out a video on You Tube detailing 25 things that got him through 2020. If it’ll help me form at least a modicum of a positive outlook on life and help me fight depression, I’d like to make my own list of 25 things. Here you go!

1. 30 For 30: Nature Boy (ESPN Documentary)

2. Andre the Giant (HBO Documentary)

3. BoJack Horseman: Season One

4. Cold Wind by CJ Box

5. Dark Side of the Ring

6. Doggolescence by Rachel Oates

7. Five Finger Death Punch: F8

8. Force of Nature by CJ Box

9. Idiocracy

10. Inglorious Basterds

11. Kind of Like Life by Christina McMullen

12. Knives Out

13. Mega Man X Soundtrack

14. Papa Roach: Scars en Espanol

15. So Much I Want to Tell You by Anna Akana

16. Solomonster Sounds Off

17. System of a Down: Protect the Land/Genocidal Humanoidz

18. Tales of the Siblings Not-So-Grim

19. Ted (Seth MacFarlane movie)

20. The Hunger Games: Catching Fire by Suzanne Collins

21. The Liberal Redneck Manifesto by Trae Crowder, Corey Ryan Forrester, and Drew Morgan

22. They Called Us Enemy by George Takei

23. World Heroes 2 Soundtrack (Arcade)

24. Wrestle Talk TV

25. Zombieland

Fresh Out of Choices

 VERSE 1

“Start at the bottom, work your way to the top

What’re you waiting for? There’re floors to mop”

Yeah, like a janitor has any upward mobility

This ain’t a meritocracy, this ain’t about ability

“No experience necessary, but no rookies please

We pay minimum wage, but expect a pay freeze”

Ain’t no boss in town who wants to welcome me

That would actually require a little empathy

CHORUS

I’m fresh out of choices

I’m just an annoyance

To the quasi-elite

Who hand out defeats

VERSE 2

“Don’t crush on You Tubers, they’ll break your heart

The distance between you two is light-years apart

Get out of the house and try to talk to people

I’m sure you’ll find a sweetie pie who’s your equal”

Good advice, Tiffany, but there’s just one problem

I get more cold shoulders than the winds of autumn

I get more cold feet than streaking in Siberia

My awkwardness alone sends them running in hysteria

CHORUS

I’m fresh out of choices

I’m just an annoyance

To the quasi-elite

Who hand out defeats

VERSE 3

“If you want to be successful, write every single day

If you want to get noticed, all you’ve got to do is pray”

Okay, Deborah, but you know I’ve got to ask

How do I pull energy right out of my own ass?

“Get your ass out of bed and do some sit-ups

Only then can you be a smoke show and a pinup”

Okay, Kevin, but the real question that I’ve got

Is how can I be something that I’m clearly not?

EXTENDED CHORUS

I’m fresh out of choices

I’m just an annoyance

To the quasi-elite

Who hand out defeats

I blocked out the noises

Glass-shattering voices

Their ignorance angers

Fuck all of the danger

Depression Is Boring

***DEPRESSION IS BORING***

So…I went for my annual physical a couple of weeks ago…and part of this physical with the new doctor was for me to fill out a brief questionnaire about my mental health. These questions included things like “Can you concentrate on basic activities?” and “Do you get easily angered?” Long story short, I scored high on the depression part of the quiz and low on the anxiety portion, although the most defining part of that anxiety quiz was how easily I get angered by little mishaps in life. Obviously, this questionnaire isn’t meant to be an official diagnosis, but if what it says is leaning towards the truth…then there’s a good chance I could have depression alongside my other mental illnesses. It would make the most sense because of the isolation from the pandemic. Everybody’s feeling on-edge right now and it’s particularly worse for people with preexisting mental health problems.

If you follow me on Face Book and/or Twitter, you’ll find that I’m quite candid about my mental illnesses. Lacking the energy to concentrate on basic creative tasks is something I experience far too often these days. The gaps in time between editing chapters of Beautiful Monster, between writing fan fiction shorts, between drawing (passable) pictures of fantasy characters, they’re far too long for my liking. While resting up is pretty much the only way to recover depleted energy, what am I supposed to do until then? If my concentration levels suck that badly, that means anything I do will be usurped by depression. This leads me to believe that…above all else…depression is fucking boring. More than anything, it’s a fucking bore. Staying in bed all day might sound glorious, especially to someone with an exhausting work schedule. But trust me, there’s no glory in feeling defeated all day long.

So what do I do to fill the time in between projects, where resting is paramount? Surely, I can’t just lie in bed all day with my racing thoughts and new age music in the background. If that’s the only thing filling the gaps of time, then that truly is the definition of boredom. Would there be any activities that didn’t require a great deal of focus? I know of at least one of them: You Tube videos. Some of my favorite You Tubers of all time include Jenna Moreci, Hannah Lee Kidder, The Authentic Observer, Cynical Reviews, Krimson Rogue, Casey Aonso, and Strange Aeons to name a few. But like me, they too have long gaps in between creative activities, their primary source being You Tube uploads. So while I’m waiting for new content…what will I do until then?

I suppose I could just watch movies and TV shows since they’re generally considered mindless activities. I have the power to do that since I got a Roku for my birthday this year. The thing is, though, I consider movies to be yet another one of my creative outlets since I write reviews for them once they’re over. So why can’t I just watch a movie for fun and forgo the review entirely? Because reviews are my personal contribution to the world when everything else is on hold. The same can’t be said for TV shows, though, because in order to properly review one, I’d have to condense the many episodes down to one or two talking points. That’s why I don’t review TV shows as often as movies, so maybe TV shows will be strictly for enjoyment and not creative fuel.

You want to know what I’m watching right now? Well, since I’m depressed as fuck, there’s only one wrestling show that can pick me up again: Dark Side of the Ring. If that sounds ironic, it should. Dark Side of the Ring is a documentary series produced by Viceland that covers shameful topics in professional wrestling, whether it’s the death of Gino Hernandez, the Montreal Screwjob, the Chris Benoit double-murder suicide, or if you need a more recent example, New Jack’s controversial behavior. Seriously, the New Jack episode made me feel grateful that I didn’t become a hardcore wrestler, because I probably would have been carved like a Thanksgiving turkey by this insane motherfucker. Rest in peace, Mass Transit. Eat shit, New Jack.

Another go-to source of fun during times of depression has been taking photographs of my animals and toys and Photoshopping them in creative ways. I have over a hundred pictures of Piper alone, more than any other animal I’ve had or currently have. What about my Lego ogre? The one with the tooth hammer and the nasty demeanor? He probably got more camera time than any other toy I’ve got.

But therein lies the problem: every time I take a picture and post it online, it feels like I’m playing the greatest hits and doing the same thing over and over again. Yes, there are over a hundred pictures of Piper, but what’s the difference between each of them individually? One of them was adjusted through a green filter to make it look like she was being abducted by aliens. One of them was adjusted through a red filter to make it look like she was being haunted by demons. One of them is a close-up of her face with a purple filter. So what? A few unique pictures out of many similar ones? Something needs to change. Same goes for the toy pictures.

Here’s another activity that I can fall back on during days of depression: long distance walks, either to the Hi-Way Market convenience store or around the Fred Meyer plaza, the latter of which will give me more exercise due to how long it is. But since we’re in the middle of a summertime heat wave, is it really wise for me to stay outdoors longer, especially when my energy is sapped from my body and mind because of the heat? Am I really getting much of a workout going to the convenience store since it’s a shorter distance? Either way, I can only do these outdoor walks once because of the physical toll it takes on my 300 lb body. Once they’re over for the day, I’ve got to find something else to do.

I’m probably leaving a lot of potential activities out for the sake of brevity. Yes, it’s Port Orchard and even if it wasn’t, it’s still not safe to go out in public for anything other than necessities. The only source of fun has to come from my own home and that’s where a lot of my mental health problems get triggered. Yes, I’m an introvert who craves solitude, but isolation and loneliness are an entirely different ball of wax. That shit messes with my head in ways I never thought possible. Negative memories from under two decades ago are flooding my mind like they actually matter in 2020.

I was lucky enough to find the peace and quiet I needed to write this blog entry, but that’s not always the case. Waiting for the memories to die down takes time…and taking time is boring, just like depression itself. Let me say it one more time for the armchair psychologists in the back: depression is a fucking bore! Depression is like watching three hours of Monday Night Raw in the fall of 2018. Depression is like watching paint dry. Depression is like watching grass grow. It is…a FUCKING BORE!


***ONLINE DIALOGUE OF THE DAY***

(Circa 2005)

MY SPACE TROLL: You need some serious help if you thought that movie was good.

GARRISON: Help? What kind of help? I know! Why don’t you come on over here and help me with my pants zipper! There’s a special prize for you underneath if you do!

"Doggolescence" by Rachel Oates and Kyra the Staffy

BOOK TITLE: Doggolescence
AUTHORS: Rachel Oates and Kyra the Staffy
YEAR: 2020
GENRE: Poetry
SUBGENRE: Animal Parodies
GRADE: Pass

All Rachel Oates wanted to do was have some fun at the expense of Gabbie Hanna and her “poetry”. Nothing too serious, just a few parodies from the point of view of Rachel’s lovable doggy Kyra. Because Kyra has childlike innocence, the parody poems are simple by nature, but are much more entertaining than the source material. There are lots of funny ones like “Honey”, “Texts”, and “Mirror”, but also some serious ones like “Nights”. Judging from the effective punch lines at the end of the funnier poems, if Rachel Oates wanted to be a standup comic somewhere down the line, she very well could since she possesses a perfect understanding of joke structures. But a poem like “Nights” will hit you like a heavyweight punch to the gut. Dogs who live at shelters are notoriously lonely since they have nobody to snuggle with and all of the blankets and toys on the concrete floor doesn’t change the fact that the floor is indeed made out of concrete. I know the phrase, “Adopt, don’t shop!” gets used quite liberally, but to be frank, it doesn’t get said enough. Rachel understands this and not only did she get an awesome book out of it, but she has something worth so much more: a loving doggy to call her own. Belly rubs, ear scratches, jowl wiggles, and most importantly, steak treats! All the good things in life come from Rachel’s home. Which is why it’s hard for me to point out one teeny tiny little flaw in this collection: too much bathroom humor for my tastes. But that’s just my opinion and Rachel doesn’t have to adjust her writing style for one reader. All in all, a nice little poetry book even if she openly admits to putting as little effort into it as Gabbie Hanna put into her own book. Four out of five stars! And by the way, the pictures of Kyra are so darn cute!

"So Much I Want to Tell You" by Anna Akana

BOOK TITLE: So Much I Want to Tell You: Letters to My Little Sister

AUTHOR: Anna Akana

YEAR: 2017

GENRE: Nonfiction

SUBGENRE: Memoir and Advice

GRADE: Pass

Whenever a You Tuber releases a book, they can’t seem to shake off the stigma that it’ll automatically be met with low expectations. Sometimes that paranoia is justified as we’ve seen with Gabbie Hanna’s poetry book and Lilly Singh’s autobiography. Anna Akana, on the other hand, has shattered that stigma with this piece of nonfiction. Yeah, there are times in this book where I wish she was more descriptive. Sometimes I wish this read like a professional novel and not like an outright telling. But you know what? If the content is good enough, mediocre writing styles don’t always matter. Anna Akana is wise beyond her years when it comes to giving advice based on her life experiences. Whether the topic is racism, sexism, bad relationships, mental illnesses, or whatever, she always delivers in a way that’s relatable and easy to digest. She doesn’t come off as condescending, but rather as an equal to the reader, which is part of what makes the advice relatable. You will feel like you’ve gained a lot from reading this short, but sweet memoir.

Out of all of the stories Anna tells in this book, the ones that hit me the hardest were her experiences with romances gone horribly awry. Like her, I too once believed in the idea of a fairytale relationship with fireworks and beauty all throughout, not an imperfection in sight. Real relationships are built on the idea of accepting flaws and being good for each other in spite of them. Some of Anna’s past relationships didn’t meet these criteria. One of her romances was with a serial cheater whom she thought she could “heal” because of his past traumas. He had a brother who committed suicide, she had a sister who committed suicide (the basis of her book), so why not bond over that? Turns out he was a toxic person anyways and had to be dumped. You know who else was toxic? An emotionally abusive screamer named Cameron. He yelled for no reason, cut her off from her friends and family, criticized her, and played the victim whenever he was called out for his ill behavior. Anna actually had to be told this was emotional abuse before she made the hard decision to dump Cameron. Reading these portions of the book tore at my heartstrings. Nobody wants to see Anna get hurt. Nobody wants her to feel unhappy because of someone she trusted. When she cries, you’ll probably cry as well. When she rises above the abuse and toxicity, you’ll feel inspired to do the same.

Even though the toxic romances hit me the hardest, I didn’t relate to them nearly as much as I did her experiences with mental illness. I’m autistic and schizophrenic, so the passages about easy burnout are all too familiar to me. I take medication for my problems and Anna did too even though she had to be thoroughly convinced to do so. She knows about the stigma of taking medication. She’s heard the comments about mental illness being “fake” and medication being for “weak-minded” people. But once she started taking her pills, she could manage her life efficiently and with a clear head. Granted, her medication didn’t completely solve her depressive and anxious problems; the pills just made those illnesses more manageable. She knows there’s no cure for such ongoing issues. But if life could just be a little easier, it could go a long way in getting things done and being an all around healthy person. Anna is a perfect spokeswoman for breaking the stigma of mental illnesses and I’m glad to have her as an ally. We don’t know each other on a personal level, but I already feel a connection because of the vulnerability she’s shown in this book and in her You Tube videos.

Anna Akana rises above her racist gatekeepers. She tackles her creative projects with a combination of passion and efficiency. She takes pride in her wealth of experiences and openly shares them with her loyal audience. She does all of this with warmth and humor, not arrogance and coldness. Is it any wonder why she has so many subscribers on You Tube? People want to gravitate towards her. They want to be sympathetic and empathetic to her life struggles. They want to be around her every chance they get and tell her how much her advice as changed their lives. Whoever scoffs at the idea of You Tubers putting out good books needs to have their eyes dragged across these pages until they learn something valuable. This book certainly has a lot to offer in that department and it’s why she gets a passing grade from me. If Anna’s suicidal sister were alive today, she’d be proud to have such a beautiful piece of writing dedicated to her. Rest in peace, Kristina Akana. We love you.

Chains of Codependence

***CHAINS OF CODEPENDENCE***

I’d like to preface this blog entry by saying that I’m by no means an expert when it comes to matters of the heart. Shocking, right? But it’s true. I’ve only been in two relationships my whole life and they’re over now, so any experience and wisdom I do have is incredibly limited. So when I write a piece of nonfiction about romance, I’m doing so from the point of view of a maladaptive daydreamer and a serial crusher. I’ve got a gazillion crushes going on in my head right now, mostly You Tubers and internet friends. Who are these crushes? Well, on that front, I’ll have to zip it, lock it, and put it in my pocket. Wouldn’t want to weird anybody out and make these lovely ladies keep their distance from me forever, Corona Virus aside. That’s always been a fear of mine whenever I open up and talk about romance or sex: that people will think I’m being creepy. I’m going to word this blog entry as carefully as possible, which is something I should have done with my entry about bastardizing fan fiction characters, but didn’t, and now it’s scrubbed from the internet. Ready? Here we go.

Serial crushing can be lots of fun as long as you’re doing it for entertainment purposes only. You can daydream about holding hands together. You can fantasize about your crush giving you a hug after a particularly draining cry spell. Me? I like to pretend I’m resting my head on my crush’s lap while she strokes my hair. By then I will have already showered and my hair will be softer than a Humane Society kitty baby. These kinds of fantasies can bring a smile to your face…until you start to bemoan the idea of never being able to attain a relationship with said crushes. I’ve done this before as you can tell. And the more you bemoan this idea, the more depressed you become. This is what I like to call the “Chains of Codependence”. Imagine that: being codependent on somebody who not only barely knows you, but also wouldn’t want a relationship anyways. Usually when people are codependent, it’s with someone who’s physically there. But if it’s a long distance stranger…my god, does that shit hurt.

But if you talk yourself through this logically, it doesn’t have to hurt anymore. You’re crushing on someone whom you have limited knowledge of, whether it’s a You Tuber, a celebrity, an athlete, or whatever. You only see the best version of that person unless they voluntarily become vulnerable, which is rare in and of itself. And because you’ve only seen their best side, you don’t often see them at their darkest. They may have views that you strongly disagree with. They may be drama queens when the cameras aren’t rolling. They could have a criminal secret that you won’t be aware of until it’s too late. This is information you can obtain if you’re in a solid relationship with someone. What you do with that information could negate your schoolboy crush from so long ago. You see memes floating around social media that say, “If you can’t handle me at my worst, you don’t deserve me at my best.” While this might set off a few red flags, there’s actually a lot of truth in it should you decide to commit to a relationship.

As long as you’re aware of the illusion in front of you and as long as your chains of codependence are broken, you can have a lot of fun serial crushing on long distance targets. Fill your mind with happy thoughts of you and your crush together. Play your favorite romantic song while you’re zoning out. Write a poem or short story about the experience (without using the person’s real name, of course). I wrote a poem not too long ago called Hand Massage and it’s about, you guessed it, smearing lotion over my crush’s hands as a way not only to heal her cracked skin, but also to relax her and earn her trust. Hand Massage ended up being a favorite poem of mine in recent memory, in a sea of marginally acceptable ones. I was open, honest, unafraid, and most importantly, I didn’t sound like a total creep. That’s a small victory in my book. Even the smallest victories will be vital in the never ending war against your own mind.

In March alone, I’ve had so many days of autistic and schizophrenic burnout that my writing output has been minimal at best. During these boring days of lying in bed and doing jack shit until the tiredness passes, I like to keep my imagination fresh by daydreaming of…whatever comes to mind. I’ve had thoughts about my own stories, I’ve had positive thoughts, evil ones, and yes, romantic ones. With the current Corona Virus spreading like wildfire all over the goddamn planet, my fantasies will be more important now than they’ve ever been. Movie theaters are closed, rock concerts are being canceled, public life in general has screeched to a grinding halt. As long as I’m staying home waiting for both the virus and my burnout to subside, I’m going to have my thoughts to keep me busy for the time being. Whoever said, “Thinking is the best way to travel” was probably living in my hometown of Port Orchard and had nothing to do whether the virus was spreading or not.

By all means, daydream until you’re ready to face this maddening world yet again. You can get attached to your crushes, but don’t get so attached that your happiness depends entirely on them. Have fun with your downtime. The world will come back to life soon enough. I’m Garrison Kelly! Until next time, try to enjoy the daylight!

***BEAUTIFUL MONSTER***

The last time I wrote a chapter of Beautiful Monster was either March 1^st or 2^nd and I spent so long getting it pumped out that I began to doubt my abilities as a writer. I began to question whether or not I was being too cautious in my approach. Even now I’m debating with myself about whether the next chapter, number ten, will be written with caution and slowness or reckless abandon and quickness. No matter which style I choose, I hope I can remember all of my talking points this time. I’m going to need them. In this chapter, Windham and Tarja venture into Devon Bay, one of the Atwood Queendom’s major cities, so that they can keep warm in a hotel room during the freezing weather. If you’re going to make “Get a room!” jokes, get them out of your system, because there will be nothing sexy about what Windham does in this chapter with a Smoke Wagon XT, the medieval equivalent of a handgun. Good thing Ordell Robbie from Jackie Brown isn’t giving him access to firearms. Otherwise, he just might have to “absolutely, positively kill every last motherfucker in the room”.

***LYRICS OF THE DAY***

“Walking home with you last night, you said the world is beautiful and how things look that way when you’re in love. I love this world. When I’m in your arms, is this heaven? I opened up the letter that the postman gave to me this morning. Had to stop myself from shouting out, “I love this world!” When you’re in my arms, is this heaven? I know that heaven waits for those whose love is true. I want to be there when the age of love has come again. Tell me all about yourself and how you came to me like in a dream. And every night I dream of you. I dream of you. When I’m in your arms, is this heaven? I know that heaven waits for those whose love is true. Don’t ask me where or when the time for us will come again. I sit and watch the sun go down. And in the darkness there’s no sound while in the sky tonight the stars all cry, “I love you!” Are they crying out over you? ‘Cause you’re in my arms. Is this heaven? ‘Cause the story starts and ends with you.”

-The Moody Blues singing “Is This Heaven?”-

***POST-SCRIPT***

You could totally use the above song as fodder for one of your romantic daydreams with your gazillion crushes. I know I do.

"What I'm Not" Officially Canceled

***”WHAT I’M NOT” OFFICIALLY CANCELED***

It’s not often than I scrub a piece of creative writing I did off the face of the internet. The last time I did it was in 2014 with a PG-13 erotica short story called Tainted Love. Six days after my 29^th birthday, this stinker managed to piss off the entire world with the way I objectified the lone female character and glorified her Stockholm Syndrome. I own that black eye on my track record and promise never to do those horrible things again. So what could I have possibly written this time that would deserve such a thorough cleansing from the web? I’ll tell you what it was: the first and final episode of What I’m Not.

I’ve had the idea for What I’m Not for as long as I’ve been fantasizing about having a You Tube channel. Many of my closest friends encouraged me to do my own You Tube project and I’ve been hesitant to give it a try, for fear that the ungodly amount of stress would send me into a schizophrenic hell all over again. But let’s say for instance that I had the guts to bare my soul to the world in front of a phone camera. What I’m Not was supposed to be a vlog series detailing all of my worst mistakes as a semi-professional author. In other words, it was a cautionary tale to rookies to not fuck up as badly as I did. I made the mistakes so nobody else would have to.

In theory, this would actually be a good idea. I don’t have much in the way of writing expertise except for what not to do. I still can’t craft a 3D character worth a damn. I still don’t know what the fuck a “character-driven story” is. What I’m Not would have been a comedic and lighthearted look into my worst decisions. So when I wrote the first episode, which was about admitting unemployment to strangers, audience members, and bosses, I decided to have a little fun and pepper in some jokes here and there. I was so excited to have this episode written that I didn’t even proofread the damn thing before posting it. That in and of itself would have made a fine idea for a What I’m Not episode.

When I finally read what I had written (twice), I was frozen with horror. There’s no way in hell writing this awful could have come from my imagination. I’m not even talking about first draft standards, because let’s face it, all first drafts by their very nature suck. This episode was by far, no exaggeration, the WORST thing I had ever written. It was so bad, in fact, that I scrubbed it from the internet before it had the chance to be critiqued. At least with the first draft of Beautiful Monster, it had potential despite the glaring flaws in the way I handled the subject of rape. At least with the first draft of Silent Warrior, it was…well…something! This episode of What I’m Not was a disaster from the get-go. It had no such potential. My big fat ass cat Oswald could have written a better episode than this and all he does is lie around and piss himself while waiting to die.

The tone of this episode could only be described as a whiny rant. I whined about my job hunting past. I whined about classism in dating. I ranted against people who were just trying to be nice and make small talk with me. All of this was supposed to be done in a comedic tone, but trust me when I say there was nothing funny about what I had written. A burning orphanage is funnier than this. Childhood cancer is funnier than the garbage I had written. Lily Singh’s “comedy” is funnier than…eh, you get the point by now. Wouldn’t want this blog entry to be a whining mess either, so I’ll quit while I’m ahead.

After I had wiped this episode from my social media pages and taken a few deep breaths to chill my anxiety, I questioned whether or not future episodes of What I’m Not would be just as bad as this one was. Fearing the answer might be an emphatic “fuck yes”, I decided going forward that the What I’m Not series had to be permanently canceled. I’m sure there’s a market for advice on what not to do as a writer, but I’m not the salesman. Not anymore. But did these episodes have to be funny? In my mind, they did, because that was the only thing they had going for them. If I tried to make the episodes serious, it would have sounded even whinier than before.

While my social media accounts have a small audience, You Tube would have had a lot more eyes on it. Can you imagine if I translated my writing into a video and a gajillion people saw it? I consider myself fortunate that I can toe the line between a private citizen and an internet personality. This is not a microscope I want to find myself under. This is not a hill I want to die on. If I ever decide to do a nonfiction series again, I’ll need a different topic and it’ll have to be a topic that doesn’t require a comedic edge. I can be funny from time to time, but not all the time. I don’t have the charisma to keep my funny streak going forever and ever. Drama is much easier than comedy, but whining will not be tolerated.

Will I ever create a You Tube channel given that What I’m Not turned out to be a dud? I think I’m more comfortable writing my nonfiction out instead of being in front of a camera. Yes, I know that staying in the comfort zone is supposed to be a bad thing, but then again, so is falling so badly on my ass that I can’t recover. My You Tube audience wouldn’t have let me hear the end of it. At least on Deviant Art, Good Reads, and Blogger, I don’t have to worry about supreme failure, because the audience for those platforms is smaller. But a small audience won’t bring me a great deal of success. Then again, success doesn’t always amount to fame and fortune. Everyone’s idea of success is different and sometimes it doesn’t mean being glared at under the world’s most powerful electron microscope.

If this blog entry sounds too whiny to keep my message consistent, I apologize profusely. I don’t know who was really looking forward to the What I’m Not series, but it’s been officially canceled as of now. My main priorities at the moment will be editing Beautiful Monster, reading my books, drawing my pictures, and watching my movies. Drawing and movie watching in particular are both excellent ways to get away from the writing grind and restore some of my lost energy. Sure, I write reviews for every movie I watch (Star Wars Episodes VII-IX be damned), but at least I have the energy to do those by the time the movie is over. Funny how that works out. As far as Beautiful Monster is concerned, I still have chapter seven staring me in the face, but that’s okay because it’s not a time sensitive project. Editing jobs aren’t supposed to be. Slow and steady wins the race. I’m Garrison Kelly! Until next time, try to enjoy the daylight!

***LYRICS OF THE DAY***

“I want to go home, take off this uniform, and leave the show. But I’m waiting in this cell, because I have to know: have I been guilty all this time?”

-Pink Floyd singing “Stop”-

Superhuman

I want to be superhuman, fucking invincible

Drive a car without getting smashed into kibble

Write like my life depends on it, because it does

Read a gazillion books per motherfucking month

Make so many friends and know how to keep them

Make my crushes known instead of just a secret

Go back to school and earn a shit ton of A-pluses

Donate my time to fur babies in need of cuddles

Start my very own channel and earn a lot of likes

Sell my books until there’re none left in sight

Travel the world to visit my very best friends

America, South Africa, and Britain around the bend

I want to be superhuman, make my dreams come true

Make the world a better place for guys like me and you

Leave behind a legacy, not a carbon footprint

This is the game of life, I want to fucking win

Future generations can only look up to me

If I’m superhuman even when I hurt and bleed

I want to be fucking tough, I want to like it rough

Unlimited energy is somehow never just enough

The world is mine if I want to take the damn thing

When I get off my ass, they’ll start calling me king

My Name In Your Mouth

***MY NAME IN YOUR MOUTH***

Before I begin with the body of this blog entry, I want everybody to know that this isn’t aimed at anybody in particular nor is it meant to be an attack in the first place. This is about something that’s been going on in my mind for quite a while now. I’m sure a lot of my writer friends can relate, or at least I hope they do. But anytime somebody mentions me in association with my writing in real life or in a You Tube video…I panic. I get this anxious sensation in the pit of my tummy and my first instinct is to turn around and run away (or cringe if I don’t have an available exit). These people could be saying the nicest, friendliest things about my work, but I’m still Clockwork Oranged into believing it’s worth being nervous about. Why is that?

I’m no stranger to criticism and I’ve had a lot of it in my career. But I’m also at a place in my life where I’ve come to depend on critiques and notes like the mature adult that I am. Although critiques are necessary to any author’s success, it doesn’t make the nervousness go away. In fact, the longer I have to wait for it, the higher the anxiety builds. Yes, I know I sound like a sensitive snowflake with thin skin and a strong need for a safe space. If I could choose to be more durable, I’d be fucking invincible. It never gets easier for me with age and I can’t understand why.

I’ll always remember a time in late 2010 when I wrote music-themed fan fiction and posted it live on Face Book. One of those stories was called “Awake and Alive” and it was about a young man named Junie Fritz, who wanted to break his own shyness by going to a Skillet concert in Seattle and making friends with a cute girl named Shawn Tucker. My brother’s girlfriend at the time Susan (who doesn’t live with us anymore) caught me in the hallway and said, “So I read your story about Junie!” Without missing a beat I wave goodbye to her and try to retreat into my room. Turns out she liked the story and wanted to praise it (despite the fact that Junie rode a fucking ATV to the arena).

Another example of wanting to cringe and/or retreat was Mother’s Day earlier this year, when I gifted my mom a copy of Poison Tongue Tales. She’s one of my biggest fans and wanted to see a sample of what I’ve published, so I gave her that. She was so happy to have it and immediately jumped into the Two-Sentence Horror Stories section. I cringed hard when she read some of those stories out loud, not because of her, but because I was listening to my own writing and I wanted to get the fuck out of there. It’s like I’ve been conditioned into thinking my own writing sucks by the various haters I’ve had over the years.

Still to this day I have that anxious feeling whenever somebody wants to talk about my writing in real life or on You Tube. Sometimes I feel this way whenever it’s in written form. For a guy who’s trying to market myself to the public so that I can get as many book sales as possible, this is quite the barrier. I should WANT to have my name in people’s mouths. I should WANT the free advertising. I should WANT to have the limelight on me 24/7. But I feel tiny every time my writing comes up in conversation.

Sometimes it’s not even a low self-esteem issue. Sometimes I write a personal story in an email or social media post and there’s a certain part of that story that makes me nervous to talk about it. Just the other day, I wrote an email to my mother detailing why I didn’t want to go on dates when I was in middle school. The biggest reason was because my dad was going through nasty shit with his ex-wives at the time, so I didn’t want to pay alimony or child support to another woman (even though I was fucking thirteen). I told mom that I didn’t want to play second fiddle to a girlfriend who would no doubt prevent me from achieving my college dreams. It didn’t help matters that I watched the Millennium episode “A Room with No View” right around that time and saw Lucy Butler get touchy-feely and kissy-kissy with her hostages. Obviously, things have changed since then and if the opportunity presented itself, I’d definitely go on a date with a nice woman. But still, that was quite the revelation for my mother.

So why all the nervousness? Why all the fuss? Why can’t I just put on my suit of armor and deflect bullets like Superman? Why can’t I just…you know…”toughen up”, like a stereotypical male would say in a Skillset Magazine article? Did my mental illnesses make me this way? Am I just a naturally sensitive person? Do I have too much empathy? Does anybody else feel this sense of panic whenever they hear their own writing? Have I really been Clockwork Oranged into believing I suck? What’s going on here? I’m Garrison Kelly! Even when you feel like dying….well, that would be a good time to retreat to your room and lock the door. No mountain climbing until you calm the fuck down.

***BEAUTIFUL MONSTER PROGRESS***

As of today, I’ve written the prologue and first two chapters of this reloaded project. The third chapter will see an argument take place between Torger Manson and Shelly Atwood. Torger wants Shelly to be a businesswoman first and a lover second if she’s going to deny him access to the sex slaves. If you’re not cringing right now, check your pulse. Shelly has already forcibly deflowered Windham, so any conversation she has with Torger about sex will give you the feeling of spiders crawling on your skin. Wish me luck!

***LYRICS OF THE DAY***

“Between suicide and all your dirty lies. Are you looking sad for girls? Are you looking bad for sympathy? Between suicide and secrets that you hide. Are you feeling pain like birds? Are you trading pearls for misery? It’s getting hard to say open your eyes. Needles haven’t fixed anything. I guess we’re millions of faces waiting somewhere for somebody else’s place to feel like home. Love is a refuge with fears and doubts. It’s the Jesus on your necklace. Love is a silence to your cry outs. Sleepless hideouts. The cheapest, the fabulous.”

-Your Favorite Enemies singing “Open Your Eyes”-