Kyle Michel Sullivan's Blog: https://www.myirishnovel.com/, page 180
May 11, 2017
Resurfacing...
Okay...I'm getting over my periodic trip to hell and back and beginning to see the possibilities before me, again. The last couple weeks were not good, emotionally or in general, but I'm finally back to Fuck It mode. Didn't take a lot...and it is totally part and parcel of my usual modus operandi. I'm so fucking tedious, at times.
Of course, it didn't help that I had a lovely series of slaps from that beast known as reality. Sales of my books have collapsed. I'm borderline diabetic. I'm about to turn 65 yet still live like a sophomore student in college. My car had issues. And I screwed up an artwork job for a friend. Plus...it's allergy season and Claritin does not help me maintain any balance...though it's not as bad as the rest of the meds for this issue.
So I've done some shifting around in my finances and scheduled in the rest of my summer, almost. I'm headed for Brighton, England on Wednesday to pack a library, coming back Monday. Not much time there but enough to make it a break from the chaos of American life, at the moment. After that is a day trip to Toronto, again, then off to another city I'd never have gone to on my own -- Tallahassee, Florida. There are also 2 potential jobs in the San Francisco area and another possible down the pike.
So...this weekend I am getting back to The Alice 65...mainly to input the red-pen edits I made and bring the story to a better sense of purpose. Remind myself of what's in the story and what're in my notes and see if I can work out the best way to make it a fun but insightful tale about a couple of damaged people inadvertently helping each other to move forward in their lives. If I work this right, I can take off the last half of August through Labor day and really get A65 into gear. I'm finding I need the time blocked out for it over a longer period than every weekend.
Hopefully, I'll get it done and out there before the end of the world.
Of course, it didn't help that I had a lovely series of slaps from that beast known as reality. Sales of my books have collapsed. I'm borderline diabetic. I'm about to turn 65 yet still live like a sophomore student in college. My car had issues. And I screwed up an artwork job for a friend. Plus...it's allergy season and Claritin does not help me maintain any balance...though it's not as bad as the rest of the meds for this issue.
So I've done some shifting around in my finances and scheduled in the rest of my summer, almost. I'm headed for Brighton, England on Wednesday to pack a library, coming back Monday. Not much time there but enough to make it a break from the chaos of American life, at the moment. After that is a day trip to Toronto, again, then off to another city I'd never have gone to on my own -- Tallahassee, Florida. There are also 2 potential jobs in the San Francisco area and another possible down the pike.
So...this weekend I am getting back to The Alice 65...mainly to input the red-pen edits I made and bring the story to a better sense of purpose. Remind myself of what's in the story and what're in my notes and see if I can work out the best way to make it a fun but insightful tale about a couple of damaged people inadvertently helping each other to move forward in their lives. If I work this right, I can take off the last half of August through Labor day and really get A65 into gear. I'm finding I need the time blocked out for it over a longer period than every weekend.
Hopefully, I'll get it done and out there before the end of the world.
May 7, 2017
Crazy week...
After spending far too many days in Oklahoma City, I was all set to head home on Tuesday when I had to scramble to change my return home to stay over in NYC. Quite literally, as I was finishing packing to check out of the hotel. I was wanted to handle the pickup of 250 or so books from Christie's. I had to figure out packing materials. Print up documents. Rework my return tickets. It was tense and told on me.
The main thing was, my ticket on Southwest was a full return, and I had to check a bag. My flight change was in Baltimore, but Southwest won't let you just end a flight midway; you have to cancel the flight and rebook it...which would have cost an additional $200. And changing my flight to go into Newark or La Guardia was even more.
I wound up shipping my suitcase to the office via FedEx and just left Southwest at Baltimore. I stayed in the airport, using their wifi to book a train up to Penn Station and a single room on Amtrak from NYC to Buffalo. That sounded like fun and was nice, enough... and a rather interesting adventure, unto itself.
I got the materials I needed, got the job done in the time I had...in fact, I got done just as our driver showed up to collect the boxes. Then I grabbed a quick lunch at a cafeteria across from Christie's and got to Penn Station just in time to catch my train.
I like the train, but I think I'd have preferred being in coach; the singlette (as they call it) was a bit cramped and it was hard to get decent Wifi in it. And...it had a toilette. As you can see. It's got a lid that lowers and makes it a little table. And the blue flap above where my laptop's power cord is plugged in...is a pull-down sink.
The seats recline and even will become a single bed, but there's also a bunk above them, directly over your head as you're seated...and it rattles. I found that by lowering it a little, it stopped...but it also would slowly descend closer and closer to the top of your head. Very spooky.
I did get a nap, and got a meal with my ticket. A decent cod with mashed potatoes and some kind of bean salad. Tasted good. Overall, it was very relaxing...and we only got in an hour late.
But...through all of this I was fighting off a serious funk, and it caved in on me, Thursday. I was at work then and Friday...and Saturday was a complete waste. Well...not complete; I did get laundry done. But nothing else. My brain went into shutdown mode and I just drifted through the day.
It wasn't as bad, today, so I was able to work up some sketches for a client's project. I'll finish them up and send them to her, tomorrow. Just preliminaries, nothing worth showing anyone...but it helped me get past my blue mood.
I know what it's from -- frustration. And self-flagellation. Seems I really have given up on film. I've canceled email subscriptions to things like InkTip and MovieBytes and ISF, because it's silly to keep pushing work that no one wants. I've taken the awards down off my wall and put them away. And I applied for Medicare since I'm now eligible to do so, emphasizing how complete my mismanagement of my life has been.
I should write an existential novel about a man who dreams and never does...call it The Story of My Life.
The main thing was, my ticket on Southwest was a full return, and I had to check a bag. My flight change was in Baltimore, but Southwest won't let you just end a flight midway; you have to cancel the flight and rebook it...which would have cost an additional $200. And changing my flight to go into Newark or La Guardia was even more.
I wound up shipping my suitcase to the office via FedEx and just left Southwest at Baltimore. I stayed in the airport, using their wifi to book a train up to Penn Station and a single room on Amtrak from NYC to Buffalo. That sounded like fun and was nice, enough... and a rather interesting adventure, unto itself.
I got the materials I needed, got the job done in the time I had...in fact, I got done just as our driver showed up to collect the boxes. Then I grabbed a quick lunch at a cafeteria across from Christie's and got to Penn Station just in time to catch my train.
I like the train, but I think I'd have preferred being in coach; the singlette (as they call it) was a bit cramped and it was hard to get decent Wifi in it. And...it had a toilette. As you can see. It's got a lid that lowers and makes it a little table. And the blue flap above where my laptop's power cord is plugged in...is a pull-down sink.The seats recline and even will become a single bed, but there's also a bunk above them, directly over your head as you're seated...and it rattles. I found that by lowering it a little, it stopped...but it also would slowly descend closer and closer to the top of your head. Very spooky.
I did get a nap, and got a meal with my ticket. A decent cod with mashed potatoes and some kind of bean salad. Tasted good. Overall, it was very relaxing...and we only got in an hour late.
But...through all of this I was fighting off a serious funk, and it caved in on me, Thursday. I was at work then and Friday...and Saturday was a complete waste. Well...not complete; I did get laundry done. But nothing else. My brain went into shutdown mode and I just drifted through the day.
It wasn't as bad, today, so I was able to work up some sketches for a client's project. I'll finish them up and send them to her, tomorrow. Just preliminaries, nothing worth showing anyone...but it helped me get past my blue mood.
I know what it's from -- frustration. And self-flagellation. Seems I really have given up on film. I've canceled email subscriptions to things like InkTip and MovieBytes and ISF, because it's silly to keep pushing work that no one wants. I've taken the awards down off my wall and put them away. And I applied for Medicare since I'm now eligible to do so, emphasizing how complete my mismanagement of my life has been.
I should write an existential novel about a man who dreams and never does...call it The Story of My Life.
April 30, 2017
An off day...
I needed to cleanse my brain, for a bit, so today I gorged on episodes of Vera, a murder mystery series set in and around Newcastle-Upon-Tyne, almost to the border of Scotland. I'd been watching episodes here and there, but now I'm done with 5 full "sets", as they call them...and I'm not as fond of the last set. David Leon is gone and in his place is a sharp-lipped Kenny Dogherty, who has none of the presence or empathy of Leon's Joe Ashworth.
Something else that's changed is how the episodes are shot and put together. Lots of unnecessary set-ups and music that expands on the term portentous. The editing is more MTV quick-stuff and the directors keep jumping the axis as if it means nothing. Not sure what happened between set 4 and set 5, but whatever it was, it was not for the better.
The mysteries are generally well-written, and Brenda Blethyn is consistently good as the irascible Vera Stanhope, but a lot of these differences seem like change for the sake of change and that rankles me. I don't mind change for the better or even trying out something different to add to the story-lines, but for it to happen for no good reason is just wrong. It's like the producers are saying, "I'm bored so you must be bored, so we're going to mix things up to keep from being bored...even if you aren't."
Well...at least I'm feeling much more like getting back onto A65, now.
Something else that's changed is how the episodes are shot and put together. Lots of unnecessary set-ups and music that expands on the term portentous. The editing is more MTV quick-stuff and the directors keep jumping the axis as if it means nothing. Not sure what happened between set 4 and set 5, but whatever it was, it was not for the better.
The mysteries are generally well-written, and Brenda Blethyn is consistently good as the irascible Vera Stanhope, but a lot of these differences seem like change for the sake of change and that rankles me. I don't mind change for the better or even trying out something different to add to the story-lines, but for it to happen for no good reason is just wrong. It's like the producers are saying, "I'm bored so you must be bored, so we're going to mix things up to keep from being bored...even if you aren't."
Well...at least I'm feeling much more like getting back onto A65, now.
April 29, 2017
You never know when inspirartion comes...
...Or from where.
The packing job in Oklahoma City got done much earlier...and much easier...than I expected. Not as many books as I was led to believe, and much smaller sizes, too. So I released the crew, which worked out well because it poured down rain, today, after storms last night. Well, it is tornado season, and Oklahoma does have her share of them.
I dropped 1 guy off at the airport and went driving around. Hit downtown OKC to find most of the traffic lights were out and some trees down. Nothing much else to see, until I wound up at the Murrah Memorial Park. It was the location of the Alfred Murrah Federal Building blown up by Timothy McVeigh in April 1995. Killed 169 people, including 19 children.
This is how it looks, now...and it seemed right to wander these grounds in the rain, not on a lovely day. Etched on the gate at the top of the reflecting pool is 9:01 -- the moment before the bomb went off.
At the other end of the pool is a similar gate with the number 9:03 etched into it...the moment after the bomb went off.
The pool, itself, represents the moment the bomb went off -- 9:02.
On the south edge of the pool are 169 empty chairs. Two sizes representing adults and children. Killed by a right wing asshole who decided he was the same as God. It's all very lovely and well-tended and quiet and a single parks ranger walks about to make sure it stays that way. The gentleness of it reminded me of my trip to Dachau, and how antiseptic is had become.
But something I didn't catch, at the time, was how it's also a way of memorializing the dead with a vague monument that says it means so much...but does not truly understand what happened. Nor does it offer any form of learning from it.
Visiting this area in the rain cleared my mind of many things...and opened up a new path into Place of Safety...to my surprise. I thought I knew the ending and had the right words in place for it...but this little trip showed me I did not understand what Brendan was saying...not until today. He's talking about how we, as people, fetishize any evil done to us, giving us cause to commit that same evil on others.
And that is the story of mankind...
The packing job in Oklahoma City got done much earlier...and much easier...than I expected. Not as many books as I was led to believe, and much smaller sizes, too. So I released the crew, which worked out well because it poured down rain, today, after storms last night. Well, it is tornado season, and Oklahoma does have her share of them.
I dropped 1 guy off at the airport and went driving around. Hit downtown OKC to find most of the traffic lights were out and some trees down. Nothing much else to see, until I wound up at the Murrah Memorial Park. It was the location of the Alfred Murrah Federal Building blown up by Timothy McVeigh in April 1995. Killed 169 people, including 19 children.
This is how it looks, now...and it seemed right to wander these grounds in the rain, not on a lovely day. Etched on the gate at the top of the reflecting pool is 9:01 -- the moment before the bomb went off.
At the other end of the pool is a similar gate with the number 9:03 etched into it...the moment after the bomb went off.The pool, itself, represents the moment the bomb went off -- 9:02.
On the south edge of the pool are 169 empty chairs. Two sizes representing adults and children. Killed by a right wing asshole who decided he was the same as God. It's all very lovely and well-tended and quiet and a single parks ranger walks about to make sure it stays that way. The gentleness of it reminded me of my trip to Dachau, and how antiseptic is had become.But something I didn't catch, at the time, was how it's also a way of memorializing the dead with a vague monument that says it means so much...but does not truly understand what happened. Nor does it offer any form of learning from it.
Visiting this area in the rain cleared my mind of many things...and opened up a new path into Place of Safety...to my surprise. I thought I knew the ending and had the right words in place for it...but this little trip showed me I did not understand what Brendan was saying...not until today. He's talking about how we, as people, fetishize any evil done to us, giving us cause to commit that same evil on others.
And that is the story of mankind...
April 25, 2017
Off on a big job...
I spent yesterday and today prepping for a week-long stay in Oklahoma City, another place I've never been to and wouldn't visit on my own. And it's going to be a tough job -- packing 10,000 books and journals into 450-500 boxes for transport to another country. I'll have helpers, fortunately, so it might get done in the time-frame I've been given...but only just.
Means nothing's getting done on A65 or blogging, because I will be beat. So...signing off till this time, next week. Maybe having this space and focus away from my writing will help.
Maybe...
Means nothing's getting done on A65 or blogging, because I will be beat. So...signing off till this time, next week. Maybe having this space and focus away from my writing will help.
Maybe...
April 23, 2017
Completing obligations...
I worked up a 14 page treatment of French Connection Blues, kicking myself for the sloppiness of the screenplay the whole time, and using that to give a bit of clarity and movement to it. Dunno how successful I was because the truth is...it's not my story and the characters are only acquaintances who aren't that open with me. All very need-to-know kind of crap.
Anyway, I sent it off to the guy and I will have nothing more to do with it. I've fulfilled my duty to the story...but what's funny is, I'm a bit sorry. I did get the impression the characters would like to have worked with me more, but they were held back. When I did try to work things to be more interesting, most of the time I got shot down with the old, "It didn't happen like that." And everybody would back off. Too bad; it might have an interesting story to tell, if I could have worked in a more disjointed style.
So to clear my head, I watched a couple episodes of Vera on Acorn. It's a series of murder mysteries, each an hour and a half long and some decent production values. Four to a set. I'm up to Set 2 (Season 2) of 7, number 3 in the set...and I like them. The first couple were on the "meh" side, but they've gotten better and better...and now I can't figure out who the killer is until just before the reveal, which doesn't count.
Brenda Blethyn now owns the lead role. I like the irascible relationship she has with her crew, especially David Leon. She's short, round and fair; he's tall, dark and handsome. This and the excellent remake of And Then There Were None make it worth the $5 a month subscription.
And I can watch them on my tablet -- woo-hoo...
Anyway, I sent it off to the guy and I will have nothing more to do with it. I've fulfilled my duty to the story...but what's funny is, I'm a bit sorry. I did get the impression the characters would like to have worked with me more, but they were held back. When I did try to work things to be more interesting, most of the time I got shot down with the old, "It didn't happen like that." And everybody would back off. Too bad; it might have an interesting story to tell, if I could have worked in a more disjointed style.
So to clear my head, I watched a couple episodes of Vera on Acorn. It's a series of murder mysteries, each an hour and a half long and some decent production values. Four to a set. I'm up to Set 2 (Season 2) of 7, number 3 in the set...and I like them. The first couple were on the "meh" side, but they've gotten better and better...and now I can't figure out who the killer is until just before the reveal, which doesn't count.Brenda Blethyn now owns the lead role. I like the irascible relationship she has with her crew, especially David Leon. She's short, round and fair; he's tall, dark and handsome. This and the excellent remake of And Then There Were None make it worth the $5 a month subscription.
And I can watch them on my tablet -- woo-hoo...
April 21, 2017
Scrrew the negative by embracing it...
I bitch, grouch, and complain a lot...and I'm sure it gets tiresome. Sometimes I use my blog to work things out in my head; sometimes it's just verbal vomit. But I have found that when I do my snap, snarl, growl, self-flagellation thing on here, I wind up clearing away some kind of debris in my brain and the ideas come, again. The words make themselves known. The characters stop being as pissy and start guiding and illuminating, once more.
I think half the reason I so disliked my biographical script of that cop's life is, I've since written a book and dug deeper into his character. In fact, in one draft I went a bit farther than he was willing to go in order to show he was a bit unstable, mentally. I forgot that he thinks the conspiracy against him was real and some of the hallucinations that wound up driving him from the force were probably brought on by chemical means instead of the stress and a weak psyche. I still had some of that in...mainly in plotting out the ending...but I get the feeling there was a lot more to what happened with him than he let on.
Still...while the script has that, it's not as tight as it should have been. Had I done a step-outline before I finalized it, I'd like to think I'd have seen how loose and meandering it was turning out to be. Lots of moments and no real sense of urgency or life.
The guy I did it for liked it and I fulfilled my obligation to him...but I blew it with me. I never let the characters become comfortable with me, and it tells. In OT, Jake and I knew each other from the first second. He could be an asshole, but so could I. He could get pissed at me just like I'd get pissed at him...but it's like we were brothers in spirit, and I think it tells in my writing. I agonized over it till it was right.
I didn't do that with this one. I just wrote it and made it polished...and never found the spark in it to make it real. That was my failing and no one else's...and I will not let it happen, again. If I cannot commit to letting a story become part of my life, I won't do it. I'd churn out something lifeless and without meaning. As Hemingway said, "Writing is easy; you just sit at the typewriter and bleed."
My writer's moral to the story -- Stories ain't got lives if you don't agonize over them...
I think half the reason I so disliked my biographical script of that cop's life is, I've since written a book and dug deeper into his character. In fact, in one draft I went a bit farther than he was willing to go in order to show he was a bit unstable, mentally. I forgot that he thinks the conspiracy against him was real and some of the hallucinations that wound up driving him from the force were probably brought on by chemical means instead of the stress and a weak psyche. I still had some of that in...mainly in plotting out the ending...but I get the feeling there was a lot more to what happened with him than he let on.
Still...while the script has that, it's not as tight as it should have been. Had I done a step-outline before I finalized it, I'd like to think I'd have seen how loose and meandering it was turning out to be. Lots of moments and no real sense of urgency or life.
The guy I did it for liked it and I fulfilled my obligation to him...but I blew it with me. I never let the characters become comfortable with me, and it tells. In OT, Jake and I knew each other from the first second. He could be an asshole, but so could I. He could get pissed at me just like I'd get pissed at him...but it's like we were brothers in spirit, and I think it tells in my writing. I agonized over it till it was right.
I didn't do that with this one. I just wrote it and made it polished...and never found the spark in it to make it real. That was my failing and no one else's...and I will not let it happen, again. If I cannot commit to letting a story become part of my life, I won't do it. I'd churn out something lifeless and without meaning. As Hemingway said, "Writing is easy; you just sit at the typewriter and bleed."
My writer's moral to the story -- Stories ain't got lives if you don't agonize over them...
April 20, 2017
The gift that keeps on giving...and giving...
Eight years ago I wrote a script for a guy, based on his life story as a cop in NYC. It never went anywhere because, truth be told, his experiences had already been done to death in movies like Serpico and Prince of the City and the like. I told him this, up front...but I did it. I thought that would be the end of it.
Then I got talked into making the script into a book. I worked my ass off on that book and got what I thought was an interesting character study of a man with too much imagination and too little control spinning into madness...and it got published...but it didn't sell very well.
So...the guy got the rights back, rewrote it and was shopping it around. In and of itself, that's not so bad, but my name was still on it and he knows nothing about proper grammar. Granted, mine isn't great, but it's decent enough. So I polished it up, like an editor, and helped him self-publish it through Ingram and Smashwords...and now he's back.
He doesn't give in, this guy, which is probably a good thing. He has a possible producer interested in the project, but he needs a step outline for the script. So I went in intending to just do a quick ABC outline as I flew home, today...and OMG, it is such crap. I wrote a piece of shit. Small wonder nobody wants it; it's not a script; it's a catastrophe and needs a page one rewrite.
Jesus, how could I let that happen? I'm capable of one hell of a lot better. Granted, I wasn't all the invested in the story and felt a bit hamstrung by his requirements and the story's demands...but it really reads like a first draft. I'm ashamed of myself for thinking it was worthy of showing to anybody.
But now what do I do? I don't have time for a good rewrite; I've got a 5 day packing job in Oklahoma City, next week, and my laptop won't let me use Final Draft. Nor would I probably be in any shape to do any writing, since this is a push of a job -- pack 10,000 books in 4 full days and 1 day for picking it all up.
I should never have said I'd do the script, since it's obvious my heart wasn't in it.
Then I got talked into making the script into a book. I worked my ass off on that book and got what I thought was an interesting character study of a man with too much imagination and too little control spinning into madness...and it got published...but it didn't sell very well.
So...the guy got the rights back, rewrote it and was shopping it around. In and of itself, that's not so bad, but my name was still on it and he knows nothing about proper grammar. Granted, mine isn't great, but it's decent enough. So I polished it up, like an editor, and helped him self-publish it through Ingram and Smashwords...and now he's back.
He doesn't give in, this guy, which is probably a good thing. He has a possible producer interested in the project, but he needs a step outline for the script. So I went in intending to just do a quick ABC outline as I flew home, today...and OMG, it is such crap. I wrote a piece of shit. Small wonder nobody wants it; it's not a script; it's a catastrophe and needs a page one rewrite.
Jesus, how could I let that happen? I'm capable of one hell of a lot better. Granted, I wasn't all the invested in the story and felt a bit hamstrung by his requirements and the story's demands...but it really reads like a first draft. I'm ashamed of myself for thinking it was worthy of showing to anybody.
But now what do I do? I don't have time for a good rewrite; I've got a 5 day packing job in Oklahoma City, next week, and my laptop won't let me use Final Draft. Nor would I probably be in any shape to do any writing, since this is a push of a job -- pack 10,000 books in 4 full days and 1 day for picking it all up.
I should never have said I'd do the script, since it's obvious my heart wasn't in it.
April 19, 2017
Another job done...
I just completed another packing job, this one in Boca Raton, Florida...and it almost didn't happen. And I mean, after I'd gotten down here. It was in a gated community and I was just pulling up to the gate when I got a phone call telling me to hold on. It seems the recipient's insurance company suddenly decided they didn't like the way we were going to transport the shipment so were voiding the coverage on it.
Talk about last-minute...the only reason I wasn't already in the donor's condo was, I'd stopped at a 7/11 for some water and something to have for lunch. I wound up sitting in my car, in Florida's lovely warmth (not) for 3 hours while everything was hammered out. Which it was. Which also added a requirement I note what books are in each box, along with photos of them. Which put me way behind. I thought I'd be done in one day; took 2.
That's not such a big deal; I can be flexible when required. What's irritating is, no one bothered communicating the situation to the donor till he called to complain about me being late. I was asked not to; the recipient was going to do that...but didn't. So I looked like a flake. Not that I'm never one...but I was on time, for this one, and would have let the donor know about the situation the second I could.
Oh, well...worked out. And it's a nice collection. And the donor's happy. That's what counts.
And I got nothing done on A65...mainly because yesterday I caught a 5:45am flight to Fort Lauderdale and went straight to the donor's location. Meaning after I was done for the day, I was zoned. Went straight to bed, got up early, this morning, and, after it was all done and one its way, crashed at my hotel for a long nap. Now I'm catching up on emails and other business...so Adam and Casey will have to wait till I'm home.
And it'll be more of the same, next week...sigh...
Talk about last-minute...the only reason I wasn't already in the donor's condo was, I'd stopped at a 7/11 for some water and something to have for lunch. I wound up sitting in my car, in Florida's lovely warmth (not) for 3 hours while everything was hammered out. Which it was. Which also added a requirement I note what books are in each box, along with photos of them. Which put me way behind. I thought I'd be done in one day; took 2.
That's not such a big deal; I can be flexible when required. What's irritating is, no one bothered communicating the situation to the donor till he called to complain about me being late. I was asked not to; the recipient was going to do that...but didn't. So I looked like a flake. Not that I'm never one...but I was on time, for this one, and would have let the donor know about the situation the second I could.
Oh, well...worked out. And it's a nice collection. And the donor's happy. That's what counts.
And I got nothing done on A65...mainly because yesterday I caught a 5:45am flight to Fort Lauderdale and went straight to the donor's location. Meaning after I was done for the day, I was zoned. Went straight to bed, got up early, this morning, and, after it was all done and one its way, crashed at my hotel for a long nap. Now I'm catching up on emails and other business...so Adam and Casey will have to wait till I'm home.
And it'll be more of the same, next week...sigh...
April 16, 2017
Stepping back...
I've avoided social media and the news, for the most part, today. I am sick of hearing about Czar Snowflake and his family using the US Treasury as their ATM, and have actively started hoping he will be impeached and run out of office straight into prison along with his whole administration. But that's not going to happen unless Democrats take back the House and Senate, both, in 2018; the GOP is too busy using this distraction to take the country back 100 years. But I'm already getting the feeling the DNC is going to commit the same damned mistakes it did last year, when running Hillary against Bernie and then Snowflake.
They don't seem to want to push a 50 state strategy. They want to choose certain districts to put candidates in who the "think can win" but who stand for nothing. They aren't willing to get as down and dirty as the GOP does but seem to believe by rising above the fray, people will respect them more. They won't; people will respect the loudest voice, as Snowflake proved.
I've actually looked into emigrating to Canada, but they won't have me. I'm too old and don't have a skill they want. And England is becoming as insane as America...maybe even trying to be even worse than us. The racists in our civilization have been given license to howl their filth, and they are taking full advantage of it.
It's starting to show up in the way corporations treat people. Look at United and their bullies. Look at the police and their killings and beatings. Look at how the media doesn't bother to mention that a man who murdered his wife and two innocent children was a Christian pastor, or claims that any white man who slaughters people is a lone wolf and mentally ill, while any Muslim who does that is emblematic of the whole religion, to them, and any black man who kills is proof African-Americans are violent creatures.
I once put in a script that one character believed we were entering a dark age, like there was after the collapse of the Roman Empire, thinking it sounded cool. I had no idea I was being prophetic.
Just call me Jeremiah.
They don't seem to want to push a 50 state strategy. They want to choose certain districts to put candidates in who the "think can win" but who stand for nothing. They aren't willing to get as down and dirty as the GOP does but seem to believe by rising above the fray, people will respect them more. They won't; people will respect the loudest voice, as Snowflake proved.
I've actually looked into emigrating to Canada, but they won't have me. I'm too old and don't have a skill they want. And England is becoming as insane as America...maybe even trying to be even worse than us. The racists in our civilization have been given license to howl their filth, and they are taking full advantage of it.
It's starting to show up in the way corporations treat people. Look at United and their bullies. Look at the police and their killings and beatings. Look at how the media doesn't bother to mention that a man who murdered his wife and two innocent children was a Christian pastor, or claims that any white man who slaughters people is a lone wolf and mentally ill, while any Muslim who does that is emblematic of the whole religion, to them, and any black man who kills is proof African-Americans are violent creatures.
I once put in a script that one character believed we were entering a dark age, like there was after the collapse of the Roman Empire, thinking it sounded cool. I had no idea I was being prophetic.
Just call me Jeremiah.
