Josh Hilden's Blog, page 23
January 19, 2014
I Am A Social Media Whore
In a way I believe social media saved my life.
Do you think I am being over dramatic?
Well fuck you, read this then decide it I am being over dramatic you judgmental pricks!
Okay … wow, sorry about that. I’m not sure where that came from. It’s been a rough few weeks and I think I just vented on all of you and for that I apologize. But consider this, if I couldn’t vent my rage and frustration would build up and I may have decided to end it all for me and the family via carbon monoxide poisoning. But because I could vent to you here in my Journal (via Social Media) my family lives another day.
See?
Okay, enough hyperbole and supposition, on to the meat and potatoes of this piece.
In the summer of 2008 I was at a high point in my life. By fall of 2008 I would hit the single lowest place I’ve EVER been in my entire life. I’d gone from my dream job and the whole world coming up Millhouse, to a destroyed pile of fat and tears.
I will not go into the story again. I have told and retold it until almost all of the pain and rage has been expunged from my body, mind, and soul (if I have one). I will once again give a shout out to Mr. Eloy Lasanta owner and operator of “Third Eye Games” (www.thirdeyegames.net). Without his support during the dark days none of what I’ve accomplished would have been possible. Enough of that, there is no point giving him a big head. He has 2 awesome kids, a hot funny wife, and a respected company. He doesn’t need this scribbler’s adulation.
My Social Media whoring.
In the fall and winter of 2008 I spent a lot of time on the internet. I mean seriously if you people think I am on here too much these days you wouldn’t have wanted to know me back then. And remember this was before I’d ever even considered getting a smart phone. In fact I’d just bought my first phone which could reliably pull email from the ether of the digital web.
One day I found MySpace.
Yes I know. Everyone have a good laugh that I found MySpace when it was on its final legs. I’ve never been a Luddite, in fact I love new technology, and I am just lazy when it comes to change of any kind. Or at least I used to be before the medication. But I’ve talked enough about that lately as well and this Journal is about non porn related internet.
MySpace was a revelation. If you are reading this and the only exposure you’ve had to the site is the current configuration you don’t know what you were missing. The sloppy fun mess of a social network was something new and different. I was the first time instant and intense interaction with other people via the interwebs was a doable thing. Before that we were relegated to message boards and America Online Chat rooms where the most interesting thing you could do was fuck with the sexual predators.
I’d been pretty damn lonely since 1994. I had a tight group of trusted and loved friends in Michigan when I was forced by circumstance to move to Dayton Ohio. The circumstance of the move being the brewing war between me and my stepmonster, only one of us could have survived that clash of Teenage Male and Old Bitch.
When I arrived here I had one friend, Jeff. We’d gone to school together for three years when I lived with my grandparent s and for a long time I considered him a brother. In the summer of 1995 he, I, and a friend of his got an apartment together. It was a nightmare.
Let me sate this for the record, if you ever have to get a roommate make it someone you are only acquainted with and not a good friend. Jeff and I watched our friendship dissolve while Dana (Jeff’s friend) and I got along pretty good. I could have stayed his roommate indefinitely.
Good guy.
I met Karen (My Wife) while I lived with Jeff and after our lease was up I moved in with her. We were married had kids and have been living our life together ever since. But I never made another friend I could hang out with again. Not going for a pity party here, I still to this day have some of my friends in Michigan, and in Indiana. But when it comes to a buddy I can just call and hang out with … none, nadda, zero, and zilch.
I think a lack of friends to vent to and talk to on a regular basis helped contribute to my mental breakdown. Add loneliness, unmedicated bipolar disorder, an inability to talk about things because I was a recalcitrant asshole, and the apparent destruction of my career and I think what happened was kind of inevitable.
But that also needs no retelling.
On Social media I rectified my loneliness. I made connections with people who shared my interests, debated issues, and told filthy jokes I even made my first connection with the aforementioned Mr. Lasanta via MySpace. I was enjoying Social Media but I would not yet say I was a whore.
Twitter changed everything.
I was entrenched on Twitter before I ever even looked at Facebook. I blame one Mrs. Jessi Shaffer for this. She introduced to the joy of micro blogging my every move, bite, drink, thought, and poop. Okay I quit doing the last one pretty quick but you get the point, for a person who really WANTS to over share Twitter is crack! It wasn’t long before I moved to Facebook. Then the gates were opened and the whole of the Social Media universe ran a train on me.
I use social media as my number one tool for getting my writing out into the world. It appears to be working because my sales steadily grow every month and I ended this last year firmly in the black.
I use social media to network with my colleagues. I know that sounds douchey as hell but I’ve met all the artists and editors I’ve used through social media. I have also networked with dozens and dozens of the most amazing and generous writers you’ve ever met. Through these people I have become a stronger more confident and skilled writer.
But more important than anything else I’ve made real friends on Social Media. In the bad old days of the early internet we said something along the lines of, “Never trust anyone you meet on the web” this was good advice then. But now I would say, “Take it slow with people you meet on the internet” I think that’s better advice now.
I’ve made real friends on Social Media, friends I think I will know the rest of my life. I am not going to name them but I think you all know who you are and you know I love you.
-Josh
Do you think I am being over dramatic?
Well fuck you, read this then decide it I am being over dramatic you judgmental pricks!
Okay … wow, sorry about that. I’m not sure where that came from. It’s been a rough few weeks and I think I just vented on all of you and for that I apologize. But consider this, if I couldn’t vent my rage and frustration would build up and I may have decided to end it all for me and the family via carbon monoxide poisoning. But because I could vent to you here in my Journal (via Social Media) my family lives another day.
See?
Okay, enough hyperbole and supposition, on to the meat and potatoes of this piece.
In the summer of 2008 I was at a high point in my life. By fall of 2008 I would hit the single lowest place I’ve EVER been in my entire life. I’d gone from my dream job and the whole world coming up Millhouse, to a destroyed pile of fat and tears.
I will not go into the story again. I have told and retold it until almost all of the pain and rage has been expunged from my body, mind, and soul (if I have one). I will once again give a shout out to Mr. Eloy Lasanta owner and operator of “Third Eye Games” (www.thirdeyegames.net). Without his support during the dark days none of what I’ve accomplished would have been possible. Enough of that, there is no point giving him a big head. He has 2 awesome kids, a hot funny wife, and a respected company. He doesn’t need this scribbler’s adulation.
My Social Media whoring.
In the fall and winter of 2008 I spent a lot of time on the internet. I mean seriously if you people think I am on here too much these days you wouldn’t have wanted to know me back then. And remember this was before I’d ever even considered getting a smart phone. In fact I’d just bought my first phone which could reliably pull email from the ether of the digital web.
One day I found MySpace.
Yes I know. Everyone have a good laugh that I found MySpace when it was on its final legs. I’ve never been a Luddite, in fact I love new technology, and I am just lazy when it comes to change of any kind. Or at least I used to be before the medication. But I’ve talked enough about that lately as well and this Journal is about non porn related internet.
MySpace was a revelation. If you are reading this and the only exposure you’ve had to the site is the current configuration you don’t know what you were missing. The sloppy fun mess of a social network was something new and different. I was the first time instant and intense interaction with other people via the interwebs was a doable thing. Before that we were relegated to message boards and America Online Chat rooms where the most interesting thing you could do was fuck with the sexual predators.
I’d been pretty damn lonely since 1994. I had a tight group of trusted and loved friends in Michigan when I was forced by circumstance to move to Dayton Ohio. The circumstance of the move being the brewing war between me and my stepmonster, only one of us could have survived that clash of Teenage Male and Old Bitch.
When I arrived here I had one friend, Jeff. We’d gone to school together for three years when I lived with my grandparent s and for a long time I considered him a brother. In the summer of 1995 he, I, and a friend of his got an apartment together. It was a nightmare.
Let me sate this for the record, if you ever have to get a roommate make it someone you are only acquainted with and not a good friend. Jeff and I watched our friendship dissolve while Dana (Jeff’s friend) and I got along pretty good. I could have stayed his roommate indefinitely.
Good guy.
I met Karen (My Wife) while I lived with Jeff and after our lease was up I moved in with her. We were married had kids and have been living our life together ever since. But I never made another friend I could hang out with again. Not going for a pity party here, I still to this day have some of my friends in Michigan, and in Indiana. But when it comes to a buddy I can just call and hang out with … none, nadda, zero, and zilch.
I think a lack of friends to vent to and talk to on a regular basis helped contribute to my mental breakdown. Add loneliness, unmedicated bipolar disorder, an inability to talk about things because I was a recalcitrant asshole, and the apparent destruction of my career and I think what happened was kind of inevitable.
But that also needs no retelling.
On Social media I rectified my loneliness. I made connections with people who shared my interests, debated issues, and told filthy jokes I even made my first connection with the aforementioned Mr. Lasanta via MySpace. I was enjoying Social Media but I would not yet say I was a whore.
Twitter changed everything.
I was entrenched on Twitter before I ever even looked at Facebook. I blame one Mrs. Jessi Shaffer for this. She introduced to the joy of micro blogging my every move, bite, drink, thought, and poop. Okay I quit doing the last one pretty quick but you get the point, for a person who really WANTS to over share Twitter is crack! It wasn’t long before I moved to Facebook. Then the gates were opened and the whole of the Social Media universe ran a train on me.
I use social media as my number one tool for getting my writing out into the world. It appears to be working because my sales steadily grow every month and I ended this last year firmly in the black.
I use social media to network with my colleagues. I know that sounds douchey as hell but I’ve met all the artists and editors I’ve used through social media. I have also networked with dozens and dozens of the most amazing and generous writers you’ve ever met. Through these people I have become a stronger more confident and skilled writer.
But more important than anything else I’ve made real friends on Social Media. In the bad old days of the early internet we said something along the lines of, “Never trust anyone you meet on the web” this was good advice then. But now I would say, “Take it slow with people you meet on the internet” I think that’s better advice now.
I’ve made real friends on Social Media, friends I think I will know the rest of my life. I am not going to name them but I think you all know who you are and you know I love you.
-Josh
January 18, 2014
It’s The Journey, Not The Destination
Several people have asked me lately to tell them what exactly I believe in. These questions have actually become sort of demanding since my one word answer has become “Atheist” upon repeated questioning by certain individuals.
Enough is enough already.
Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.
- Arthur C. Clarke
Today I want to talk about belief that has nothing, or very little to do with the man in the sky and whether or not he hates the gays and the women. Personally I think that IF there is a god it has little time to think of such petty things. What I want to talk about is belief in the fringe, the unexplained, and the downright preposterous. I am by no means going to cover all or even most topics, just a few which have had an impact on my life.
Let’s start with the single most influential thing I’ve ever read.
Meantime, there are these twenty-odd (and some, I should warn you, are very odd). Each contains something I believed for awhile, and I know that some of these things — the finger poking out of the drain, the man-eating toads, the hungry teeth — are a little frightening, but I think we'll be all right if we go together. First, repeat the catechism after me:
I believe a dime can derail a freight-train.
I believe there are alligators in the New York City sewer system, not to mention rats as big as Shetland ponies.
I believe that you can tear off someone's shadow with a steel tent-peg.
I believe that there really is a Santa Claus, and that all those red-suited guys you see at Christmastime really are his helpers.
I believe there is an unseen world all around us.
I believe that tennis balls are full of poison gas, and if you cut one in two and breathe what comes out, it'll kill you.
Most of all, I do believe in spooks, I do believe in spooks, I do believe in spooks.
Okay? Ready? Fine. Here's my hand. We're going now. I know the way. All you have to do is hold on tight . . . and believe.
-Stephen King, Myth, Belief, Faith and Ripley's Believe It or Not!
The above excerpt is the end of the introduction to Stephen King’s third collection of short stories “Nightmares & Dreamscapes”. I remember the first time I read those words. It was about one in the morning and I’d just got home from my job at the local McDonalds, yes the one I used to play Santa at every year. The book was sitting on the counter in the kitchen having been delivered by our less than reliable mailman earlier that day.
Seriously I think that guy lost or stole more Christmas and Birthday cards.
After hitting the shower, because damn son as much as I still love the taste of McDonalds poison to this very day I never liked being cloaked in its aroma, I hit the bed. I intended to skim the book and maybe read a story. I did that the story being “Dolans Cadillac” but it was that piece of the intro which smacked me in the face.
That made me love Stephen King.
Oh he’s made a few missteps but on the whole I consider him arguably the greatest living author in the world and one of the best ever. I fully believe his work will still be read 500 hundred years from now. Maybe that’s pushing it but we still read Dante, Shakespeare, and Washington Irving so stranger things have happened.
This bit of prose opened my eyes the power of belief more fully than any preacher or h0ly man I’d been exposed to in my short life. And considering the nature of my family and upbringing that is a substantial claim.
I wanted to believe in the fingers …
I wanted to believe in the toads …
I wanted to believe in the hungry hungry teeth …
I just wanted to believe in something, anything, I could wrap my mind around and didn’t offend me at the same time. I wanted the magic in the world to NOT be defined by the old men who told me I was going to hell. I wanted my beliefs to inspire me and direct me without leashing me with a choke chain and making me heel.
I wanted something besides religion to believe in.
“Could it be that God was an extra-terrestrial? What do we mean when we say that heaven is in the clouds? From Jesus Christ to Elvis Presley, every culture tells us of high-flying bird men who zoom around the world creating magnificent works of art and choosing willing followers to share in the eternal glory from beyond the stars. Can all these related phenomena merely be dismissed as coincidence?”
― Erich von Däniken, Chariots of the Gods
My grandfather, the one who helped raise me not the other one, told me about “Chariots of the Gods” when I was in 7th grade. My grandfather is a very religious/spiritual person, not the kind who uses the bible to justify hate but the kind who tries to do good works and help people. We may not agree on religion these days but I respect his faith and it is almost singlehandedly because of him that I discuss religion and not go all “Christopher Hitchens” “Penn Jillette” or “Richard Dawkins” on people.
It starts with a church lock in.
My best friend, and future roommate, Jeff invited me to his church for a lock in. While there we ate pizza, played games, and watched movies. In retrospect it was a very cultish and designed to make us afraid of God and his son Jesus.
I’ve said it before, I have read the bible and I think Jesus Christ of Nazareth (If he was real) was a hell of a guy. Too bad many of his current followers are probably his greatest shame.
During the lock in we watched a trilogy of movies about the Rapture, the Christian end of times. These were badly made, badly acted, poorly presented terrifying flicks. I assume this was the capstone of their plan to scare us into worshiping a hate filled judgmental deity and badly misrepresented Jewish Carpenter.
Fuck me but it nearly worked.
When I returned home the next day I badgered my grandfather with questions about god. It was the first time I’d been interested since my cousin’s slut shaming in the church we used to attend. Grandpa did his best to answer me but in the end he bought me a bible and I read the thing cover to cover in three days.
When I was finished I was less than impressed.
I’m not sure if it was because of my loss of interest in religion of because he knew I was sci-fi junkie, I’d been reading and rereading Arthur C. Clarke and Isaac Asimov at that point, but he told me about “Chariots of the Gods”. I checked it out of the library and read it twice before returning. I opened my eyes.
Now before you start yelling things about me being crazy let me stop you.
The book didn’t convince me that our civilization and race is the product of alien meddling. What it did do was open my mind to looking at things from a completely different point of view then the one my family, church, and schools had presented. Although in the years since I’ve devoured everything I could get my hands on from both sides of the argument and have reached the conclusion that it’s the worst example of hubris to assume we know everything.
Always keep an open mind boils and ghouls.
One more anal-probing gyro-pyro levitating ectoplasm alien anti-matter story and I'm going to take out my gun and shoot somebody.
-Fox Mulder
So where am I in my journey?
I’m still travelling, and really that’s the important part. I am still keeping my mind open to ideas and to the old ones. I want it ll to be try, I want the magic to be real, I want all possibilities to be explored. But in the end I have to work with t information I have access to, I have to understand that I will never have any but the barest of answers.
You know what?
I’m okay with that.
The journey is the important part. I will rest when I’m dead.
-Josh
Enough is enough already.
Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.
- Arthur C. Clarke
Today I want to talk about belief that has nothing, or very little to do with the man in the sky and whether or not he hates the gays and the women. Personally I think that IF there is a god it has little time to think of such petty things. What I want to talk about is belief in the fringe, the unexplained, and the downright preposterous. I am by no means going to cover all or even most topics, just a few which have had an impact on my life.
Let’s start with the single most influential thing I’ve ever read.
Meantime, there are these twenty-odd (and some, I should warn you, are very odd). Each contains something I believed for awhile, and I know that some of these things — the finger poking out of the drain, the man-eating toads, the hungry teeth — are a little frightening, but I think we'll be all right if we go together. First, repeat the catechism after me:
I believe a dime can derail a freight-train.
I believe there are alligators in the New York City sewer system, not to mention rats as big as Shetland ponies.
I believe that you can tear off someone's shadow with a steel tent-peg.
I believe that there really is a Santa Claus, and that all those red-suited guys you see at Christmastime really are his helpers.
I believe there is an unseen world all around us.
I believe that tennis balls are full of poison gas, and if you cut one in two and breathe what comes out, it'll kill you.
Most of all, I do believe in spooks, I do believe in spooks, I do believe in spooks.
Okay? Ready? Fine. Here's my hand. We're going now. I know the way. All you have to do is hold on tight . . . and believe.
-Stephen King, Myth, Belief, Faith and Ripley's Believe It or Not!
The above excerpt is the end of the introduction to Stephen King’s third collection of short stories “Nightmares & Dreamscapes”. I remember the first time I read those words. It was about one in the morning and I’d just got home from my job at the local McDonalds, yes the one I used to play Santa at every year. The book was sitting on the counter in the kitchen having been delivered by our less than reliable mailman earlier that day.
Seriously I think that guy lost or stole more Christmas and Birthday cards.
After hitting the shower, because damn son as much as I still love the taste of McDonalds poison to this very day I never liked being cloaked in its aroma, I hit the bed. I intended to skim the book and maybe read a story. I did that the story being “Dolans Cadillac” but it was that piece of the intro which smacked me in the face.
That made me love Stephen King.
Oh he’s made a few missteps but on the whole I consider him arguably the greatest living author in the world and one of the best ever. I fully believe his work will still be read 500 hundred years from now. Maybe that’s pushing it but we still read Dante, Shakespeare, and Washington Irving so stranger things have happened.
This bit of prose opened my eyes the power of belief more fully than any preacher or h0ly man I’d been exposed to in my short life. And considering the nature of my family and upbringing that is a substantial claim.
I wanted to believe in the fingers …
I wanted to believe in the toads …
I wanted to believe in the hungry hungry teeth …
I just wanted to believe in something, anything, I could wrap my mind around and didn’t offend me at the same time. I wanted the magic in the world to NOT be defined by the old men who told me I was going to hell. I wanted my beliefs to inspire me and direct me without leashing me with a choke chain and making me heel.
I wanted something besides religion to believe in.
“Could it be that God was an extra-terrestrial? What do we mean when we say that heaven is in the clouds? From Jesus Christ to Elvis Presley, every culture tells us of high-flying bird men who zoom around the world creating magnificent works of art and choosing willing followers to share in the eternal glory from beyond the stars. Can all these related phenomena merely be dismissed as coincidence?”
― Erich von Däniken, Chariots of the Gods
My grandfather, the one who helped raise me not the other one, told me about “Chariots of the Gods” when I was in 7th grade. My grandfather is a very religious/spiritual person, not the kind who uses the bible to justify hate but the kind who tries to do good works and help people. We may not agree on religion these days but I respect his faith and it is almost singlehandedly because of him that I discuss religion and not go all “Christopher Hitchens” “Penn Jillette” or “Richard Dawkins” on people.
It starts with a church lock in.
My best friend, and future roommate, Jeff invited me to his church for a lock in. While there we ate pizza, played games, and watched movies. In retrospect it was a very cultish and designed to make us afraid of God and his son Jesus.
I’ve said it before, I have read the bible and I think Jesus Christ of Nazareth (If he was real) was a hell of a guy. Too bad many of his current followers are probably his greatest shame.
During the lock in we watched a trilogy of movies about the Rapture, the Christian end of times. These were badly made, badly acted, poorly presented terrifying flicks. I assume this was the capstone of their plan to scare us into worshiping a hate filled judgmental deity and badly misrepresented Jewish Carpenter.
Fuck me but it nearly worked.
When I returned home the next day I badgered my grandfather with questions about god. It was the first time I’d been interested since my cousin’s slut shaming in the church we used to attend. Grandpa did his best to answer me but in the end he bought me a bible and I read the thing cover to cover in three days.
When I was finished I was less than impressed.
I’m not sure if it was because of my loss of interest in religion of because he knew I was sci-fi junkie, I’d been reading and rereading Arthur C. Clarke and Isaac Asimov at that point, but he told me about “Chariots of the Gods”. I checked it out of the library and read it twice before returning. I opened my eyes.
Now before you start yelling things about me being crazy let me stop you.
The book didn’t convince me that our civilization and race is the product of alien meddling. What it did do was open my mind to looking at things from a completely different point of view then the one my family, church, and schools had presented. Although in the years since I’ve devoured everything I could get my hands on from both sides of the argument and have reached the conclusion that it’s the worst example of hubris to assume we know everything.
Always keep an open mind boils and ghouls.
One more anal-probing gyro-pyro levitating ectoplasm alien anti-matter story and I'm going to take out my gun and shoot somebody.
-Fox Mulder
So where am I in my journey?
I’m still travelling, and really that’s the important part. I am still keeping my mind open to ideas and to the old ones. I want it ll to be try, I want the magic to be real, I want all possibilities to be explored. But in the end I have to work with t information I have access to, I have to understand that I will never have any but the barest of answers.
You know what?
I’m okay with that.
The journey is the important part. I will rest when I’m dead.
-Josh
January 15, 2014
Braces
My middle daughter Chrissy needed braces bad. Her mouth was already entirely too compact and when her wisdom teeth dropped last year the situation only got worse. At the moment her mouth is a jagged mishmash of teeth and gums. It’s not easy to see most of the damage but when she lets people look its devastating. She’s a gorgeous young woman cursed with the jaw line of a Victorian flower girl.
As a dad I’ve been heartbroken.
Last fall Karen and I decided we needed to try and do something about the situation. This is not to say we hadn’t considered it in the past but this past year was the first time in the 18 years we’ve been together where we’ve ended up financially in the black. So with that in mind we made an appointment with an orthodontist covered by our bullshit insurance.
You’d be surprised by how few of those there were.
The establishment we chose is right across the street from my day job (at night). Seriously I could see the main drag and the tops of the buildings from the waiting room. So it was easy to find and we arrived there with time to spare. I hesitate to say I found a doctor’s office of any kind comforting but if that is possible this was the most comfortable center of healing I’ve ever been in.
After a quick evaluation which included about a million photographs and I shit you not a 3D model of my daughter’s mouth I was ushered into an office. The lady was not the doctor. I would meet him later, but for the moment I was speaking with the patient relations person. She explained what they would do and set a time frame for procedures.
Then the doctor came in.
Let’s call him Smiley McGee. This man smiled more than any human being I’ve ever met in my entire life. Not only that but he had the firmest handshake I’ve ever felt, and he is not a large man. At maybe five feet six inches tall and possibly 175 pounds he looked like he would blow away in a strong wing. Secretly I believe Dr. Smiley McGee spends his night and weekends south of the border wrestling on the luchador circuit under the name “Senor Strong Teeth” the Alabaster Wonder! He showed us the pictures and with each image I felt like the worst father in the world for not attempting to get orthodontic help for my daughter before now regardless of the cost.
Yeah, and what about that cost?
When Dr. McGee was finished telling me how bad it was and then showing just how much better he could make my daughter’s life over the course of two years He left and I was returned to the very kind Patient Relations Lady. She shuffled her papers and gave me that look. The look I am sure every Vet gives the family dog before inserting the needle and sending old Rex off to run forever on that farm upstate. Now that I think about it it’s the same look my ex-girlfriends always gave me when they finally got a look at my cock and realized what fresh hell they’d gotten themselves into.
“It’s going to cost you just under $7000.00 after your insurance pays their portion” she said.
FYI – Insurance is paying a grand total of $1000 … fuck you Anthem!
My stomach didn’t just drop. It packed a bag, used a crow bar, and forced its way out of my body. There have been few times in my life I’ve been left completely speechless, usually I am that fucker you can’t get to shut up. This time I said nothing. I stared at her and I think she began to wonder if she should just talk to my 16 year old daughter because clearly I’d had a stroke in her office and would hence forth need watering and turning on a regular basis.
But I did manage to collect myself and asked how we could deal with this. I was prepared to make payments until the zombies rise in order to help my daughter. I figured after the zombies are feasting on the brains of my countrymen and women medical billing will be the least of my worries. That was when she hit me with the worst of it. Payments are more than welcome but they would need a deposit before they began work. I figure five hundred to a thousand dollars tops, we could handle that.
Two thousand six hundred and seventy two dollars.
I wanted to cry. I am serious and I’m not ashamed to admit that. It took everything I had not to break down in tears right then and there. I wanted to throw things, break her window, strip off my clothes, and run around outside naked screaming my equivalent of “Soylent Green is People!”
Obviously that didn’t happen.
I told her we’d have to discuss this with my wife and that we would get back with them. I think she knew we’d never be back, I know my daughter knew it wasn’t going to happen. That was confirmed when I heard her trying to silently weep in her bedroom later that night. Karen and I worked a budget and knew we wouldn’t have deposit until next December or January at the earliest.
It’s a hard world out there, anyone who tells you they are having an easy time of things I suggest you kick them square in the nuts or punch them in the tit. Gender kinda determines which of those you do, unless you are pissed at a Tranny but I wouldn’t them they usually have knives and aren’t afraid to cut a bitch.
As far as we were concerned it was a dead issue until we had the deposit. Secretly I was hoping to make enough writing through March to make it a reality but that was before the situation at my wife’s job. The prospect of her losing her position and therefore us losing her insurance made us rethink our long term plans.
I hate the word blessed.
I hate the word miracle.
I hate the terms “Gift from God” and “Somebody was looking out for you”.
I am an atheist and so of course I don’t believe in god. That being said it does not offend me that others do, if they get strength from the belief in a higher power good for them. What bothers me with phrases above is the inherent assumption that GOD chose to give a gift while fucking over somebody who is just as, or even more, needy.
The phrase I love is “The Kindness of Strangers”.
Just before the first of the year we received a phone call. My wife didn’t recognize the number and normally she would allow it to roll over to voice mail. Instead this time she picked up and answered. Answering that call changed my daughter’s world for the better. It was Dr. Smiley McGee’s office and they wanted to know if we were still interested in getting braces for Chrissy. Of course we wanted them and had even managed to save some money towards that goal. But it was nowhere near the amount we needed for the down payment.
Then they dropped the bomb.
The parents of a former patient wanted to help out a child who couldn’t afford the procedure. They’d donated $1000 dollars for that purpose. The staff at the Orthodontists office decided to take up a collection and match the donation. They then decided Chrissy was there number one pick for a child to help. All we needed to pay was the $700 balance, which was almost exactly what we’d saved.
This time I did cry. In private give me at least that much credit as a man.
This past Monday I paid the money and the first round of braces were cemented to my daughter’s teeth. There are several more procedures to be performed as the initial straightening occurs but bow all we have to pay is $250 a month.
These good people are giving my gorgeous daughter a beautiful smile and I will always love them for it.
- Josh
As a dad I’ve been heartbroken.
Last fall Karen and I decided we needed to try and do something about the situation. This is not to say we hadn’t considered it in the past but this past year was the first time in the 18 years we’ve been together where we’ve ended up financially in the black. So with that in mind we made an appointment with an orthodontist covered by our bullshit insurance.
You’d be surprised by how few of those there were.
The establishment we chose is right across the street from my day job (at night). Seriously I could see the main drag and the tops of the buildings from the waiting room. So it was easy to find and we arrived there with time to spare. I hesitate to say I found a doctor’s office of any kind comforting but if that is possible this was the most comfortable center of healing I’ve ever been in.
After a quick evaluation which included about a million photographs and I shit you not a 3D model of my daughter’s mouth I was ushered into an office. The lady was not the doctor. I would meet him later, but for the moment I was speaking with the patient relations person. She explained what they would do and set a time frame for procedures.
Then the doctor came in.
Let’s call him Smiley McGee. This man smiled more than any human being I’ve ever met in my entire life. Not only that but he had the firmest handshake I’ve ever felt, and he is not a large man. At maybe five feet six inches tall and possibly 175 pounds he looked like he would blow away in a strong wing. Secretly I believe Dr. Smiley McGee spends his night and weekends south of the border wrestling on the luchador circuit under the name “Senor Strong Teeth” the Alabaster Wonder! He showed us the pictures and with each image I felt like the worst father in the world for not attempting to get orthodontic help for my daughter before now regardless of the cost.
Yeah, and what about that cost?
When Dr. McGee was finished telling me how bad it was and then showing just how much better he could make my daughter’s life over the course of two years He left and I was returned to the very kind Patient Relations Lady. She shuffled her papers and gave me that look. The look I am sure every Vet gives the family dog before inserting the needle and sending old Rex off to run forever on that farm upstate. Now that I think about it it’s the same look my ex-girlfriends always gave me when they finally got a look at my cock and realized what fresh hell they’d gotten themselves into.
“It’s going to cost you just under $7000.00 after your insurance pays their portion” she said.
FYI – Insurance is paying a grand total of $1000 … fuck you Anthem!
My stomach didn’t just drop. It packed a bag, used a crow bar, and forced its way out of my body. There have been few times in my life I’ve been left completely speechless, usually I am that fucker you can’t get to shut up. This time I said nothing. I stared at her and I think she began to wonder if she should just talk to my 16 year old daughter because clearly I’d had a stroke in her office and would hence forth need watering and turning on a regular basis.
But I did manage to collect myself and asked how we could deal with this. I was prepared to make payments until the zombies rise in order to help my daughter. I figured after the zombies are feasting on the brains of my countrymen and women medical billing will be the least of my worries. That was when she hit me with the worst of it. Payments are more than welcome but they would need a deposit before they began work. I figure five hundred to a thousand dollars tops, we could handle that.
Two thousand six hundred and seventy two dollars.
I wanted to cry. I am serious and I’m not ashamed to admit that. It took everything I had not to break down in tears right then and there. I wanted to throw things, break her window, strip off my clothes, and run around outside naked screaming my equivalent of “Soylent Green is People!”
Obviously that didn’t happen.
I told her we’d have to discuss this with my wife and that we would get back with them. I think she knew we’d never be back, I know my daughter knew it wasn’t going to happen. That was confirmed when I heard her trying to silently weep in her bedroom later that night. Karen and I worked a budget and knew we wouldn’t have deposit until next December or January at the earliest.
It’s a hard world out there, anyone who tells you they are having an easy time of things I suggest you kick them square in the nuts or punch them in the tit. Gender kinda determines which of those you do, unless you are pissed at a Tranny but I wouldn’t them they usually have knives and aren’t afraid to cut a bitch.
As far as we were concerned it was a dead issue until we had the deposit. Secretly I was hoping to make enough writing through March to make it a reality but that was before the situation at my wife’s job. The prospect of her losing her position and therefore us losing her insurance made us rethink our long term plans.
I hate the word blessed.
I hate the word miracle.
I hate the terms “Gift from God” and “Somebody was looking out for you”.
I am an atheist and so of course I don’t believe in god. That being said it does not offend me that others do, if they get strength from the belief in a higher power good for them. What bothers me with phrases above is the inherent assumption that GOD chose to give a gift while fucking over somebody who is just as, or even more, needy.
The phrase I love is “The Kindness of Strangers”.
Just before the first of the year we received a phone call. My wife didn’t recognize the number and normally she would allow it to roll over to voice mail. Instead this time she picked up and answered. Answering that call changed my daughter’s world for the better. It was Dr. Smiley McGee’s office and they wanted to know if we were still interested in getting braces for Chrissy. Of course we wanted them and had even managed to save some money towards that goal. But it was nowhere near the amount we needed for the down payment.
Then they dropped the bomb.
The parents of a former patient wanted to help out a child who couldn’t afford the procedure. They’d donated $1000 dollars for that purpose. The staff at the Orthodontists office decided to take up a collection and match the donation. They then decided Chrissy was there number one pick for a child to help. All we needed to pay was the $700 balance, which was almost exactly what we’d saved.
This time I did cry. In private give me at least that much credit as a man.
This past Monday I paid the money and the first round of braces were cemented to my daughter’s teeth. There are several more procedures to be performed as the initial straightening occurs but bow all we have to pay is $250 a month.
These good people are giving my gorgeous daughter a beautiful smile and I will always love them for it.
- Josh
January 10, 2014
Today I ...
Today has been a really good day. Well that’s not actually true, today started off sucking balls. And when I say that I do not mean in the hot way you always hope your partner will be into but are also shot down about in the end. Or to put it another way until I went on my lunch break I was really beginning to contemplate an act of vandalism.
It wasn’t a great day.
The day started with me having a hard time getting back to sleep after getting the kids up for school. This is important because the baby (actually she’s 4 now and I feel old as fuck admitting that) is usually up by 8:30 which means those last hours at more the necessary for my mental and physical well being. I managed another hour before my bunny girl assault the daddy bed and forced me out of rest.
That’s life and to be fair my life is pretty fucking good these days.
Following my unwilling wakefulness it was a morning of hip pain (It’s cold and wet outside) and lack of energy. Katie watched cartoons and played on her Kindle while I attempted to do some editing.
It’s nearly impossible for me to work at home. I become distracted, I always have an ear out for what the little one is doing, and the energy is just wrong there. Don’t laugh at that ask any writer, painter, or artist of any medium and they will most likely tell you that some places just don’t feel “Right” when it comes to creating.
Anyhow after I fed the child I got ready for the day job. I don’t hate my day job and I actually like a lot of the people who live and work there. Let’s just take a moment to be clear about something, my job is a little humiliating sometimes. But I am a realist and I am truly grateful to have this fulltime job especially living where I do. So I got ready for work.
There was Burger King on the way to work. It was piping hot and delicious … of that no more will be said for fear of diluting my joy!
When I arrived the normal hilarity ensued. Things I never knew were my job are now retroactively my job. This lead to a massive ass chewing out in both directions. As I write that is sounds kinda kinky but in reality I just ended up pissed off and bitter. But I need to be paid so I hitched my big diaper and dug into the Friday workload.
Things trudged along like normal until I went to lunch.
Sitting at the desk with my laptop open I was getting ready to start working on my current project when I decided to check the email and do some routine business matters first. I am so very glad I did.
Normally my public email (Josh@JoshHilden.com) is filled with offers from people to promote my book for a nominal fee, or to advertise with them for a nominal fee, or with offers for pills to make my dick hard … every day I get closer to opening those.
Today there was only one email and I present it to you here.
Dear Mr. Hilden,
I have recently read your short story, “Confession” and it was wonderful! I am a drama and dance teacher at a rural school in South Africa: Lebone II Independent College. There is an extremely talented Grade 12 student, who is doing Drama as a subject and your story would be an awesome monologue for him to do for his final practical exam. Would you allow him to do so? I would appreciate your response, as I do not know if he needs your permission to use it and what the cost would be. His exams start in 3 weeks time, so I’d really appreciate it if you could get back to me as soon as possible. Thank you.
Yours sincerely,
(Removed for the writers privacy)
I will be honest and I am embarrassed to admit that my first reaction was that is amazing and touching message was a scam. But after the third read through, and I admit a few Google searches, I was overcome with gratitude.
The Confession is a story I am very proud of and sort of different from a lot of my earlier work. It was my first serious and successful attempt at a straight first person narrative. I liked to think it was pretty good when I published it.
I have received some amazing feedback on my work over the last year. I have also received some head scratching feedback but hey, go read some of the Amazon reviews of your favorite books and you will be left questioning the intelligence and taste of the human race. When you break it all down I think I am gaining good name recognition in the Indie community and a lot of people seem to like my work. It all makes me feel good even if it doesn’t cross my palm with gold on a regular basis.
This is so different.
I had an asshole creative writing teacher in my sophomore year who seemed to make it his mission to kick me in the nuts. At the time I thought it was because he hated me, juvenile. Then as I got older I came to think it was because he was trying to make me a better writer. When in my early thirties I had an editor/publisher tell me the same thing while he abused the shit out of me I decided that was bullshit. Now I know he was just a petty man who had no other way of making himself feel good than beating up on kids with low to no self esteem.
That a teacher, one who is apparently highly educated, has chosen my work for one of her best and brightest to use for his final practical exam … well that is amazing. I have no words appropriate to express my feelings. I don’t think that Confession is the best thing I’ve ever written but I am proud of it and I do believe that it has legs. This validation means more to me than all the money I’ve earned in my career.
I hope this young man does well in his exams and I hope my words are worthy.
Josh
It wasn’t a great day.
The day started with me having a hard time getting back to sleep after getting the kids up for school. This is important because the baby (actually she’s 4 now and I feel old as fuck admitting that) is usually up by 8:30 which means those last hours at more the necessary for my mental and physical well being. I managed another hour before my bunny girl assault the daddy bed and forced me out of rest.
That’s life and to be fair my life is pretty fucking good these days.
Following my unwilling wakefulness it was a morning of hip pain (It’s cold and wet outside) and lack of energy. Katie watched cartoons and played on her Kindle while I attempted to do some editing.
It’s nearly impossible for me to work at home. I become distracted, I always have an ear out for what the little one is doing, and the energy is just wrong there. Don’t laugh at that ask any writer, painter, or artist of any medium and they will most likely tell you that some places just don’t feel “Right” when it comes to creating.
Anyhow after I fed the child I got ready for the day job. I don’t hate my day job and I actually like a lot of the people who live and work there. Let’s just take a moment to be clear about something, my job is a little humiliating sometimes. But I am a realist and I am truly grateful to have this fulltime job especially living where I do. So I got ready for work.
There was Burger King on the way to work. It was piping hot and delicious … of that no more will be said for fear of diluting my joy!
When I arrived the normal hilarity ensued. Things I never knew were my job are now retroactively my job. This lead to a massive ass chewing out in both directions. As I write that is sounds kinda kinky but in reality I just ended up pissed off and bitter. But I need to be paid so I hitched my big diaper and dug into the Friday workload.
Things trudged along like normal until I went to lunch.
Sitting at the desk with my laptop open I was getting ready to start working on my current project when I decided to check the email and do some routine business matters first. I am so very glad I did.
Normally my public email (Josh@JoshHilden.com) is filled with offers from people to promote my book for a nominal fee, or to advertise with them for a nominal fee, or with offers for pills to make my dick hard … every day I get closer to opening those.
Today there was only one email and I present it to you here.
Dear Mr. Hilden,
I have recently read your short story, “Confession” and it was wonderful! I am a drama and dance teacher at a rural school in South Africa: Lebone II Independent College. There is an extremely talented Grade 12 student, who is doing Drama as a subject and your story would be an awesome monologue for him to do for his final practical exam. Would you allow him to do so? I would appreciate your response, as I do not know if he needs your permission to use it and what the cost would be. His exams start in 3 weeks time, so I’d really appreciate it if you could get back to me as soon as possible. Thank you.
Yours sincerely,
(Removed for the writers privacy)
I will be honest and I am embarrassed to admit that my first reaction was that is amazing and touching message was a scam. But after the third read through, and I admit a few Google searches, I was overcome with gratitude.
The Confession is a story I am very proud of and sort of different from a lot of my earlier work. It was my first serious and successful attempt at a straight first person narrative. I liked to think it was pretty good when I published it.
I have received some amazing feedback on my work over the last year. I have also received some head scratching feedback but hey, go read some of the Amazon reviews of your favorite books and you will be left questioning the intelligence and taste of the human race. When you break it all down I think I am gaining good name recognition in the Indie community and a lot of people seem to like my work. It all makes me feel good even if it doesn’t cross my palm with gold on a regular basis.
This is so different.
I had an asshole creative writing teacher in my sophomore year who seemed to make it his mission to kick me in the nuts. At the time I thought it was because he hated me, juvenile. Then as I got older I came to think it was because he was trying to make me a better writer. When in my early thirties I had an editor/publisher tell me the same thing while he abused the shit out of me I decided that was bullshit. Now I know he was just a petty man who had no other way of making himself feel good than beating up on kids with low to no self esteem.
That a teacher, one who is apparently highly educated, has chosen my work for one of her best and brightest to use for his final practical exam … well that is amazing. I have no words appropriate to express my feelings. I don’t think that Confession is the best thing I’ve ever written but I am proud of it and I do believe that it has legs. This validation means more to me than all the money I’ve earned in my career.
I hope this young man does well in his exams and I hope my words are worthy.
Josh
January 9, 2014
Lets Talk About Politics & God
This is the first Journal Essay of 2014 and I have decided to start things off with a bang. I am not going to tackle depression. I am not going to address my morbid obesity. We won’t be discussing what the local prostitute population on Craig’s List is up to these days. I am not even touching my desire to see Joseph Gordon Levitt naked.
I am breaking new ground this year.
I have spent the last few years refusing to talk about the two subjects most likely to make Americans start throwing punches and turn them into Internet Bully’s. I wrote a journal essay last year about all of the Duck Dynasty bullshit and it felt really good. So good that I wanted to do it again I am about to being giving my opinion about politics and religion. I know what you are most likely thinking at the moment.
“Big fucking deal Josh is going to start acting like everyone else and telling us what he thinks whether we want to hear it or not. Why can’t everyone just shut up? If everyone stops talking about it all of the annoying bullshit will go away and it will be the 1950’s and everyone who is white, male, and Christian will be happy. Josh do you really think this is good for yourself or America?”
What is my response to this train of thought whether you had it or not?
“You’re goddamn right.”
Before you fly off the handle and start hurling feces at me like a monkey force fed caffeine, allow me to explain myself. Being quiet and keeping my opinion to myself is not helping anyone except the people I disagree with.
These people seem by and large to be the people who scream the loudest and talk down to people the most. That is not to say there aren’t people on my side of the Berlin Wall who are complete jackasses. Fuck there are a few I would like to beat with a rotted salmon. But by and large there seems to less people willing to speak out for fear of backlash.
What are my views?
Well if you have been reading my bullshit and nonsense for any length of time you probably already have a good idea. If not be patient, I’m getting to it but I need to say a few more things about how and why this is going down.
I have a large extended family. There are so many aunts, uncles, and cousins in the family that I would be hard pressed to name half of them. I grew up surrounded by them but as I got older I consciously moved away from them drifting to the point where I really only associate with them at weddings and funerals.
I did this because as I got older I became less religious. My mother’s family has always been an extremely religious one. Also as I got older I grew more and more politically progressive. My family tends to skew much further right than I would ever be comfortable.
This is not to say I don’t like or love them. Far from it, I am very fond of many of these family members. But I didn’t want to fight with them I didn’t want the conflict. I figured if I ignored the differences my aunts anti-Semitism, my uncles anti climate change beliefs, and my cousin’s dark theory about Obama to name just a few things would be easier. For awhile it was … and then it wasn’t anymore.
Really I blame Facebook.
Every day I am witness to the statements of friends, family, pundits, and assholes on the other side of the country which make me want to bash my head in with a brick. Some of you might be screaming, right this minute even, that I should unplug and ignore it all. That I am paying too much attention to what people say on the internet. That I would be happier if I went back to the days of 7 day mail turn around and party lines in the burbs.
You are wrong.
First, I am an Indie Author and without the constant interfacing of social media my career would be deader than Kim Jong Un’s uncle. Second, I am sick and fucking tired of ignoring shit I passionately believe in and/or fucking loathe. Third, even though I tend to analyze what I read and hear many people don’t and I am really tired of watching lies and bullshit spread wily nily. I am also really pissed at so called people of faith using their god as a reason to hate and oppress people who’ve never done a damn thing to hurt them. Finally, I do not want this world regressing to a time where dad earned all of the money came home had a stiff drink beat the kids and raped mom.
Nope, not gonna have it.
So here we go, all of my years of never taking definitive stands and defending them end today. I am not going to argue semantics. I am not going to engage in pedantic debate. I refuse to be dragged into the minutia of part time constitutional scholars and internet butt plugs. I am merely going to begin commentating on what I believe to be right and wrong and if I am going to be 100% I couldn’t give a flying fuck if you agree with me or not. If I change your mind on something that’s great, if I don’t I really don’t care.
I did a whole essay on what I do and do not believe last year. But in that work I stated I reserved the right to edit, expand, and revise the list. So here I am going to give you a new list of the things I believe. I am not consulting the old one and there will be overlap. Shit there may be contradictions. I don’t really care because this is what I believe now and that was what I believed them.
I believe that everyone who has not been convicted of a violent crime has the right to own a firearm. But I don’t think any of us have the right to keep an anti aircraft gun in our front yard.
I believe there is no god in the sense religion portrays. But I believe everyone has the right to believe in what they want to.
I believe religion MUST be kept out of schools and government.
I believe race, gender, sexuality, and religion (or lack of) are never valid basis for discrimination or hate.
I believe everyone is too goddamn sensitive and they need to grow the fuck and learn to let shit go. (This includes me more than many)
I believe that the free flow of and access to information is a fundamental right.
I believe in Science even when I don’t completely understand it.
I believe we need a government to maintain society.
I believe sometimes people need a helping hand and that social welfare programs are NOT evil.
I believe in fair and equal treatment.
I believe that the current relationship between government, business, and the top 1% has resulted in a plutocracy.
I believe in the American people but not the American government.
Okay that’s it folks, watch this space for more ranting and monitor my social media for the growth of my new found public righteousness and indignation.
- Josh
I am breaking new ground this year.
I have spent the last few years refusing to talk about the two subjects most likely to make Americans start throwing punches and turn them into Internet Bully’s. I wrote a journal essay last year about all of the Duck Dynasty bullshit and it felt really good. So good that I wanted to do it again I am about to being giving my opinion about politics and religion. I know what you are most likely thinking at the moment.
“Big fucking deal Josh is going to start acting like everyone else and telling us what he thinks whether we want to hear it or not. Why can’t everyone just shut up? If everyone stops talking about it all of the annoying bullshit will go away and it will be the 1950’s and everyone who is white, male, and Christian will be happy. Josh do you really think this is good for yourself or America?”
What is my response to this train of thought whether you had it or not?
“You’re goddamn right.”
Before you fly off the handle and start hurling feces at me like a monkey force fed caffeine, allow me to explain myself. Being quiet and keeping my opinion to myself is not helping anyone except the people I disagree with.
These people seem by and large to be the people who scream the loudest and talk down to people the most. That is not to say there aren’t people on my side of the Berlin Wall who are complete jackasses. Fuck there are a few I would like to beat with a rotted salmon. But by and large there seems to less people willing to speak out for fear of backlash.
What are my views?
Well if you have been reading my bullshit and nonsense for any length of time you probably already have a good idea. If not be patient, I’m getting to it but I need to say a few more things about how and why this is going down.
I have a large extended family. There are so many aunts, uncles, and cousins in the family that I would be hard pressed to name half of them. I grew up surrounded by them but as I got older I consciously moved away from them drifting to the point where I really only associate with them at weddings and funerals.
I did this because as I got older I became less religious. My mother’s family has always been an extremely religious one. Also as I got older I grew more and more politically progressive. My family tends to skew much further right than I would ever be comfortable.
This is not to say I don’t like or love them. Far from it, I am very fond of many of these family members. But I didn’t want to fight with them I didn’t want the conflict. I figured if I ignored the differences my aunts anti-Semitism, my uncles anti climate change beliefs, and my cousin’s dark theory about Obama to name just a few things would be easier. For awhile it was … and then it wasn’t anymore.
Really I blame Facebook.
Every day I am witness to the statements of friends, family, pundits, and assholes on the other side of the country which make me want to bash my head in with a brick. Some of you might be screaming, right this minute even, that I should unplug and ignore it all. That I am paying too much attention to what people say on the internet. That I would be happier if I went back to the days of 7 day mail turn around and party lines in the burbs.
You are wrong.
First, I am an Indie Author and without the constant interfacing of social media my career would be deader than Kim Jong Un’s uncle. Second, I am sick and fucking tired of ignoring shit I passionately believe in and/or fucking loathe. Third, even though I tend to analyze what I read and hear many people don’t and I am really tired of watching lies and bullshit spread wily nily. I am also really pissed at so called people of faith using their god as a reason to hate and oppress people who’ve never done a damn thing to hurt them. Finally, I do not want this world regressing to a time where dad earned all of the money came home had a stiff drink beat the kids and raped mom.
Nope, not gonna have it.
So here we go, all of my years of never taking definitive stands and defending them end today. I am not going to argue semantics. I am not going to engage in pedantic debate. I refuse to be dragged into the minutia of part time constitutional scholars and internet butt plugs. I am merely going to begin commentating on what I believe to be right and wrong and if I am going to be 100% I couldn’t give a flying fuck if you agree with me or not. If I change your mind on something that’s great, if I don’t I really don’t care.
I did a whole essay on what I do and do not believe last year. But in that work I stated I reserved the right to edit, expand, and revise the list. So here I am going to give you a new list of the things I believe. I am not consulting the old one and there will be overlap. Shit there may be contradictions. I don’t really care because this is what I believe now and that was what I believed them.
I believe that everyone who has not been convicted of a violent crime has the right to own a firearm. But I don’t think any of us have the right to keep an anti aircraft gun in our front yard.
I believe there is no god in the sense religion portrays. But I believe everyone has the right to believe in what they want to.
I believe religion MUST be kept out of schools and government.
I believe race, gender, sexuality, and religion (or lack of) are never valid basis for discrimination or hate.
I believe everyone is too goddamn sensitive and they need to grow the fuck and learn to let shit go. (This includes me more than many)
I believe that the free flow of and access to information is a fundamental right.
I believe in Science even when I don’t completely understand it.
I believe we need a government to maintain society.
I believe sometimes people need a helping hand and that social welfare programs are NOT evil.
I believe in fair and equal treatment.
I believe that the current relationship between government, business, and the top 1% has resulted in a plutocracy.
I believe in the American people but not the American government.
Okay that’s it folks, watch this space for more ranting and monitor my social media for the growth of my new found public righteousness and indignation.
- Josh
December 27, 2013
All Good Things …
The end of 2013 is fast approaching and I have been given a moment to pause and take stock of how much my life has changed in the last 12 months. It’s not a pause I would have chosen to taken but instead one forced upon me by the universe and the gods of pestilence and plague.
I nearly lost my good right arm.
Okay maybe I am being a bit hyperbolic, fuck let’s be honest I am exaggerating like a fat kid looking to score some burgers. What happened was one night 2 weeks ago I woke up and in the stygian blackness of my bedroom and scratched a bump on my right forearm. When I woke 3 hours later the little bump was inflamed and swollen. I treated it with some Neosporin, slapped a Band-Aid on it, and continued on my way.
Bad idea Bob.
On Monday December 23 I woke in agony and called my grandfather to ask for a ride to the ER. Karen was already at work and even if I still had a car capable of movement, the fucking truck is still dead in my mother in laws driveway, so begging for a ride was my only choice. When we arrived at the hospital I was whisked back to the tiny rooms where doctors torture their patients and nurses fuck EMT’s on the late shift.
I worked at that very hospital for a year so I know what I’m talking about.
The pretty Physicians Assistant told me it was a very bad infection, they were going to have to cut me, and that it was going to hurt. Surprisingly her blunt honesty made me feel better. First she injected Lidocaine all around the rotted hole. This actually didn’t hurt too badly. Next she sliced an inch and a half slit where the original bump had been. I didn’t feel a thing. After she milked more than a cup of bloody puss from my forearm, I’m serious it was easily more than that, she brought out the long cotton swab. She told me she needed to clean out the puss pocket and that she would be as quick as possible. She slid the antiseptic bit of wood and cotton into the hole and fire raced up my arm.
I didn’t scream and I didn’t cry. Give me at least that much credit. But my body went rigid and my left hand seized the bed rail with an intensity He-Man’s buddy Fisto would have been proud of. I watched in horror as the thin stick slid more than four inches down my arm nearly touching the crotch of my elbow. I thought I might be sick. I like to think I’m relatively tough. I’ve broken bones. I’ve suffered bad cuts and contusions. I’ve suffered two concussions, been tattooed (on the same infected forearm), and I use to be plagued by cluster migraines. But no single experience has been as painful as that fucking swab raping my poor arm.
From now on I do believe that Q-Tips will cause my dick to retreat into my body for the rest of my life.
After that she packed my arm with sterile gauze, unpleasant but like a hand job from a goddess compared to the swab rape, and wrapped my arm. I was give a massive dose of antibiotics right there in the hospital and a prescription for more of the same and Vicodin. After filling the prescription and calling off at the day job, I mean seriously who the hell thinks I could work a fucking mop with my pimp arm crippled, I went home and collapsed.
I survived.
As I write this I am still bandaged. The gauze was removed by my wife because I will be damned if I give the hospital anymore of our money to pull some fabric from my forearm. I took some of the Vicodin but I hate how narcotics make me feel and at this point the infection in almost gone and Tylenol is handling the pain just fine. It kinda feels like I have sunburn on my arm. And the best part is now that the swelling is down I can see that my tattoo was NOT affected by the infection.
Yay me!
So what does this have to do with my year end wrap up?
While in pain I was unable to write more than a few words before being forced to stop. I am not ambidextrous and the very idea of typing with the sinister hand leaves me with a dry mouth and racing heart. This left me with time to read, I finished a new read through of The Stand, and think about … things.
I am one lucky mother fucker.
This year I have reached the point where on just my writing I have been able to pay, at a minimum, our rent every month just from my writing. I have been able to enjoy my family to a degree that once seemed like a pie in the sky dream. I am not ashamed to admit that this has a lot to do with balancing my depression and bi-polar condition with medication. But hey I’m not a Scientologist and I believe in the power of medical science.
This is not to say I haven’t earned this. I’ve worked hard. I’ve made time for my family when in past years I’d have watched TV or slept. I have written something every day, or at least done some sort of writing related work, whether I felt like it or not. The results have been a better relationship with my six children and about half a million words written. Instead of slowing down or even leveling off I seem to be gaining speed.
It’s wonderful and terrifying at the same time.
What comes next?
I think 2014 is going to be an important year for me. I am about to enter the convention circuit and attempt to whore my wares directly to the readers. I hope to make some connections in the wide indie publishing world and if nothing else I intend to have a lot of fun. There will be new seasons from my serials (Summer Camp of the Dead, The Preserve) and work on new projects. I will also begin volume 2 of my “After the Descent” series which is just the collected essays from my blog (I will never not hate that word).
So in conclusion I nearly lost my arm but it’s been a phenomenal year and it I owe it all to you my awesome readers and fans!
- Josh
I nearly lost my good right arm.
Okay maybe I am being a bit hyperbolic, fuck let’s be honest I am exaggerating like a fat kid looking to score some burgers. What happened was one night 2 weeks ago I woke up and in the stygian blackness of my bedroom and scratched a bump on my right forearm. When I woke 3 hours later the little bump was inflamed and swollen. I treated it with some Neosporin, slapped a Band-Aid on it, and continued on my way.
Bad idea Bob.
On Monday December 23 I woke in agony and called my grandfather to ask for a ride to the ER. Karen was already at work and even if I still had a car capable of movement, the fucking truck is still dead in my mother in laws driveway, so begging for a ride was my only choice. When we arrived at the hospital I was whisked back to the tiny rooms where doctors torture their patients and nurses fuck EMT’s on the late shift.
I worked at that very hospital for a year so I know what I’m talking about.
The pretty Physicians Assistant told me it was a very bad infection, they were going to have to cut me, and that it was going to hurt. Surprisingly her blunt honesty made me feel better. First she injected Lidocaine all around the rotted hole. This actually didn’t hurt too badly. Next she sliced an inch and a half slit where the original bump had been. I didn’t feel a thing. After she milked more than a cup of bloody puss from my forearm, I’m serious it was easily more than that, she brought out the long cotton swab. She told me she needed to clean out the puss pocket and that she would be as quick as possible. She slid the antiseptic bit of wood and cotton into the hole and fire raced up my arm.
I didn’t scream and I didn’t cry. Give me at least that much credit. But my body went rigid and my left hand seized the bed rail with an intensity He-Man’s buddy Fisto would have been proud of. I watched in horror as the thin stick slid more than four inches down my arm nearly touching the crotch of my elbow. I thought I might be sick. I like to think I’m relatively tough. I’ve broken bones. I’ve suffered bad cuts and contusions. I’ve suffered two concussions, been tattooed (on the same infected forearm), and I use to be plagued by cluster migraines. But no single experience has been as painful as that fucking swab raping my poor arm.
From now on I do believe that Q-Tips will cause my dick to retreat into my body for the rest of my life.
After that she packed my arm with sterile gauze, unpleasant but like a hand job from a goddess compared to the swab rape, and wrapped my arm. I was give a massive dose of antibiotics right there in the hospital and a prescription for more of the same and Vicodin. After filling the prescription and calling off at the day job, I mean seriously who the hell thinks I could work a fucking mop with my pimp arm crippled, I went home and collapsed.
I survived.
As I write this I am still bandaged. The gauze was removed by my wife because I will be damned if I give the hospital anymore of our money to pull some fabric from my forearm. I took some of the Vicodin but I hate how narcotics make me feel and at this point the infection in almost gone and Tylenol is handling the pain just fine. It kinda feels like I have sunburn on my arm. And the best part is now that the swelling is down I can see that my tattoo was NOT affected by the infection.
Yay me!
So what does this have to do with my year end wrap up?
While in pain I was unable to write more than a few words before being forced to stop. I am not ambidextrous and the very idea of typing with the sinister hand leaves me with a dry mouth and racing heart. This left me with time to read, I finished a new read through of The Stand, and think about … things.
I am one lucky mother fucker.
This year I have reached the point where on just my writing I have been able to pay, at a minimum, our rent every month just from my writing. I have been able to enjoy my family to a degree that once seemed like a pie in the sky dream. I am not ashamed to admit that this has a lot to do with balancing my depression and bi-polar condition with medication. But hey I’m not a Scientologist and I believe in the power of medical science.
This is not to say I haven’t earned this. I’ve worked hard. I’ve made time for my family when in past years I’d have watched TV or slept. I have written something every day, or at least done some sort of writing related work, whether I felt like it or not. The results have been a better relationship with my six children and about half a million words written. Instead of slowing down or even leveling off I seem to be gaining speed.
It’s wonderful and terrifying at the same time.
What comes next?
I think 2014 is going to be an important year for me. I am about to enter the convention circuit and attempt to whore my wares directly to the readers. I hope to make some connections in the wide indie publishing world and if nothing else I intend to have a lot of fun. There will be new seasons from my serials (Summer Camp of the Dead, The Preserve) and work on new projects. I will also begin volume 2 of my “After the Descent” series which is just the collected essays from my blog (I will never not hate that word).
So in conclusion I nearly lost my arm but it’s been a phenomenal year and it I owe it all to you my awesome readers and fans!
- Josh
December 19, 2013
“Homophobic Ducks and Former Vice Presidents”
People really need to grow the fuck up and develop some thicker skin. Everyone wants to offended by everything and pick a fight about the tiniest issues. Right vs. Left, Gay vs. Straight, Atheists vs. all Faiths, White Asshats vs. Every Brown/Black/Yellow/Red person on the fucking globe, and know it all jackasses telling everyone what they can read/watch/listen to/drink/smoke/eat/fuck every minute of every day … I am so fucking tired of the same fights over and over again.
I remember when I was in High School and then Vice President of the United States Dan Quayle, he who cannot spell potato, blamed the television show Murphy Brown for the disintegration of the traditional American family. That was on may 19, 1992 and his point was that she was a single woman who accidentally got pregnant and decided to a) keep the child and b) choose not to get married or even have a relationship with the child’s father.
Here is what he said;
"...if a single mother raising her children in the ghetto has to worry about drive-by shootings, drug-deals, or whether her children will join gangs and die violently, her already difficult task becomes impossible. It doesn´t help matters when prime time TV has Murphy Brown - a character who supposedly epitomize today´s intelligent, highly paid, professional woman - mocking the importance of fathers - by bearing a child alone, and calling it just another ´Lifestyle Choice´"
What do I have to say about those remarks?
When I was 16 I thought he was an idiot who was over reacting and need to grow the fuck up. Seen twenty years later and through the eyes of a father of 6 who’s been married for 17 years I kind of see what he was trying to say. But in the end I still think he was wrong. I was raised mostly by my grandmother with my mother and my father in and out of my life. I think I turned out better than if my parents, as they were at the time, had been in my life 24/7/365.
Regardless of how I feel personally it has been 20 years and the current generation has no idea what I am talking about. Before writing this I quizzed my kids and they had no idea who Murphy Brown was. They thought and Dan Quayle was the owner of a chain of fast food restaurants, and they laughed when I told them that a single mother on television was a thing of derision and a flashpoint of controversy when I was their age. Basically they spent the entire time reaffirming the fact that I am old and ready for suspenders.
Twenty years ago we had the remarks of the Vice President of the United States. Now we have the interview statements of a Hillbilly Christian Millionaire Reality Television star and his feelings on … THE GAYS!
Okay … I am going to make a statement about the Duck Dynasty "Controversy". I don't like the show, I have watched a few episodes and it's not my thing and not because they are rednecks with beards. I have a mighty beard and I am descended from a long line of Rednecks. But the show makes little sense to me and when I’ve dipped into it the episodes seemed silly and pointless.
To be fair I am sure I watch shows that others think equally pointless. Comic Book Men, Storage Wars, Hell’s Kitchen, and Ancient Aliens to name just a few but I am a big believer in “to each their own” and I am okay with people mocking my TV viewing habits.
Let’s take a look at the offending statements before going further down the rabbit hole shall we.
"Start with homosexual behavior and just morph out from there. Bestiality, sleeping around with this woman and that woman and that woman and those men."
"Don't be deceived. Neither the adulterers, the idolaters, the male prostitutes, the homosexual offenders, the greedy, the drunkards, the slanderers, the swindlers—they won't inherit the kingdom of God. Don't deceive yourself. It's not right."
"It seems like, to me, a vagina—as a man—would be more desirable than a man's anus. That's just me. I'm just thinking: There's more there! She’s got more to offer. I mean, come on, dudes! You know what I'm saying? But hey, sin: It's not logical, my man. It's just not logical."
Did you read all of that, well that being said I only have one thing to say about all of this. As an openly and proudly bisexual man I find Phil's statements nauseating.
Do you need a second to digest that or may I continue before you start telling me I am a “Libtard” and “Fucking Queer Atheist” and that I am “Going to Hell” or whatever other hypocritical diatribe you are about to launch in my direction?
Okay breath and read.
Other than being homophobic Phil did nothing wrong. These are his beliefs and he has the undeniable right to express them to anyone who cares to listen to them. Just as he has every right to speak I have every right to speak out against him, or if I choose, not speak out against him. Neither of us are having our freedom of speech violated.
Of course some assholes such as Former Alaskan Governor Sarah Palin;
“Free speech is endangered species; those “intolerants” hatin’ & taking on Duck Dynasty patriarch for voicing personal opinion take on us all.”
And Currant Louisianan Governor Bobby Jindal;
"Phil Robertson and his family are great citizens of the State of Louisiana. The politically correct crowd is tolerant of all viewpoints, except those they disagree with. I don’t agree with quite a bit of stuff I read in magazine interviews or see on TV. In fact, come to think of it, I find a good bit of it offensive. But I also acknowledge that this is a free country and everyone is entitled to express their views. In fact, I remember when TV networks believed in the First Amendment. It is a messed up situation when Miley Cyrus gets a laugh, and Phil Robertson gets suspended."
Seem to think that the hatred directed toward Mr. Robertson is more offensive than what he said about a significant number of Americans. As I said it’s his right to say it and the right of everyone else (Palin & Jindal included) to comment on it. But in the end money talks and it was the decision of the network to put Mr. Robertson on “Indefinite Hiatus”.
A&E is a television network and not a government organization. If they have chosen to remove him it's their right. Personally I think they are overreacting and will regret the decision but like I said removing him is NOT violating his freedom of speech.
So what have I learned from all of this?
People are idiots.
No seriously I have really finally had it hammered into my thick Michigander skull. A person can be intelligent and can contribute to society. People as a whole are mindless zombies who follow the loudest noise and shiniest objects.
And that's it ... now we wait for the next controversy
I remember when I was in High School and then Vice President of the United States Dan Quayle, he who cannot spell potato, blamed the television show Murphy Brown for the disintegration of the traditional American family. That was on may 19, 1992 and his point was that she was a single woman who accidentally got pregnant and decided to a) keep the child and b) choose not to get married or even have a relationship with the child’s father.
Here is what he said;
"...if a single mother raising her children in the ghetto has to worry about drive-by shootings, drug-deals, or whether her children will join gangs and die violently, her already difficult task becomes impossible. It doesn´t help matters when prime time TV has Murphy Brown - a character who supposedly epitomize today´s intelligent, highly paid, professional woman - mocking the importance of fathers - by bearing a child alone, and calling it just another ´Lifestyle Choice´"
What do I have to say about those remarks?
When I was 16 I thought he was an idiot who was over reacting and need to grow the fuck up. Seen twenty years later and through the eyes of a father of 6 who’s been married for 17 years I kind of see what he was trying to say. But in the end I still think he was wrong. I was raised mostly by my grandmother with my mother and my father in and out of my life. I think I turned out better than if my parents, as they were at the time, had been in my life 24/7/365.
Regardless of how I feel personally it has been 20 years and the current generation has no idea what I am talking about. Before writing this I quizzed my kids and they had no idea who Murphy Brown was. They thought and Dan Quayle was the owner of a chain of fast food restaurants, and they laughed when I told them that a single mother on television was a thing of derision and a flashpoint of controversy when I was their age. Basically they spent the entire time reaffirming the fact that I am old and ready for suspenders.
Twenty years ago we had the remarks of the Vice President of the United States. Now we have the interview statements of a Hillbilly Christian Millionaire Reality Television star and his feelings on … THE GAYS!
Okay … I am going to make a statement about the Duck Dynasty "Controversy". I don't like the show, I have watched a few episodes and it's not my thing and not because they are rednecks with beards. I have a mighty beard and I am descended from a long line of Rednecks. But the show makes little sense to me and when I’ve dipped into it the episodes seemed silly and pointless.
To be fair I am sure I watch shows that others think equally pointless. Comic Book Men, Storage Wars, Hell’s Kitchen, and Ancient Aliens to name just a few but I am a big believer in “to each their own” and I am okay with people mocking my TV viewing habits.
Let’s take a look at the offending statements before going further down the rabbit hole shall we.
"Start with homosexual behavior and just morph out from there. Bestiality, sleeping around with this woman and that woman and that woman and those men."
"Don't be deceived. Neither the adulterers, the idolaters, the male prostitutes, the homosexual offenders, the greedy, the drunkards, the slanderers, the swindlers—they won't inherit the kingdom of God. Don't deceive yourself. It's not right."
"It seems like, to me, a vagina—as a man—would be more desirable than a man's anus. That's just me. I'm just thinking: There's more there! She’s got more to offer. I mean, come on, dudes! You know what I'm saying? But hey, sin: It's not logical, my man. It's just not logical."
Did you read all of that, well that being said I only have one thing to say about all of this. As an openly and proudly bisexual man I find Phil's statements nauseating.
Do you need a second to digest that or may I continue before you start telling me I am a “Libtard” and “Fucking Queer Atheist” and that I am “Going to Hell” or whatever other hypocritical diatribe you are about to launch in my direction?
Okay breath and read.
Other than being homophobic Phil did nothing wrong. These are his beliefs and he has the undeniable right to express them to anyone who cares to listen to them. Just as he has every right to speak I have every right to speak out against him, or if I choose, not speak out against him. Neither of us are having our freedom of speech violated.
Of course some assholes such as Former Alaskan Governor Sarah Palin;
“Free speech is endangered species; those “intolerants” hatin’ & taking on Duck Dynasty patriarch for voicing personal opinion take on us all.”
And Currant Louisianan Governor Bobby Jindal;
"Phil Robertson and his family are great citizens of the State of Louisiana. The politically correct crowd is tolerant of all viewpoints, except those they disagree with. I don’t agree with quite a bit of stuff I read in magazine interviews or see on TV. In fact, come to think of it, I find a good bit of it offensive. But I also acknowledge that this is a free country and everyone is entitled to express their views. In fact, I remember when TV networks believed in the First Amendment. It is a messed up situation when Miley Cyrus gets a laugh, and Phil Robertson gets suspended."
Seem to think that the hatred directed toward Mr. Robertson is more offensive than what he said about a significant number of Americans. As I said it’s his right to say it and the right of everyone else (Palin & Jindal included) to comment on it. But in the end money talks and it was the decision of the network to put Mr. Robertson on “Indefinite Hiatus”.
A&E is a television network and not a government organization. If they have chosen to remove him it's their right. Personally I think they are overreacting and will regret the decision but like I said removing him is NOT violating his freedom of speech.
So what have I learned from all of this?
People are idiots.
No seriously I have really finally had it hammered into my thick Michigander skull. A person can be intelligent and can contribute to society. People as a whole are mindless zombies who follow the loudest noise and shiniest objects.
And that's it ... now we wait for the next controversy
November 29, 2013
This Things I Believe
I have been asked what I believe on a variety of subjects since I decided to “Slit my belly” and empty the contents on the docks of the internet. In case you don’t get that reference because you were born after 1990 it’s an allusion to the original Jaws … fuck I’m old. Also the title of this essay is likewise a pop culture reference, though a bit more current than one of Richard Dryfus and Roy Scheider searching the guts of a shark for the remains of a little boy and finding a license plate from Louisiana instead.
When I have refused to give my opinion or GASP refused to debate the answers some individuals have gotten irritable. All I can say about this is that I am not asking you to believe the things I believe why do I have to believe the things you believe? I mean seriously kids getting pissed at somebody’s ideas and beliefs because they are different than yours but are not hurting anyone is really fucking stupid.
But Josh what are these salacious beliefs?
Calm the fuck down I’m getting to it.
Religiously I am somewhere between an atheist and an agnostic.
I can’t say I am truly an atheist because I want to believe in magic, I want to believe in a metaphysical world that we just have yet to penetrate. I want to believe that there are more highly evolved creatures in the universe than us. But that is not to say I want to believe in a God. I don’t, at least not as God had been presented by any of the major monotheistic religions. That God more often than not seems to be a creature of hate and exclusion at worst and a being of contradiction and confusion at best.
What really irks me is that the idea of a kind and loving god sounds like a good thing. But what even the best of religions appear to offer is a form of “Do this the way I tell you too or I will damn you to hell and take away your desert” or some other variation. All religions, to me, are tools people (mostly men) use to control the masses and accumulate wealth and power. I am sure there are exceptions to that statement but on the whole that is religion to me.
For that reason I do not debate religion and I do not accept religious reasons and justifications as valid in debates. If you think that I should be killed, pitied, excluded, or damned to hell because I have been attracted to men then you and I are never going to see eye to eye on anything of substance. I will give more thoughts on religion at the end of this essay when I provide a more specific list of the things I believe.
Moving on.
Freedom seems to be a word every wants to coop for their own purposes. Freedom and politics are so tightly intertwined in this country that I am not sure we know the difference anymore between our basic freedoms and the bullshit we are force fed by the corporations and politicians. I can’t really pick a political allegiance anymore. I used to consider myself either a Liberal Republican (believe it or not kids that creature used to exist) or a Conservative Democrat. I can’t call myself a Libertarian because I only agree with about 50% of what they claim to believe in. The same goes for the Socialists and the Greenies. I suppose I would consider myself an Independent but that feels more and more like a copout. I generally don’t talk about these things online because I get really fucking tired of people arguing minutia and semantics. I have actually had my opinions changed on occasion by a well reasoned and politely delivered argument. What I can’t deal with is the growing number of jackholes who scream some variation of …
“I AM SO SICK AND TIRED OF YOU FUCKIGN MORONS WHO DON’T AGREE WITH ME! JUST DO WHAT I WANT AND EVERYTHING WITLL BE OKAY YOU STUPID ASSHOLES!”
Seriously how the hell are you supposed to even have a conversation with these people? Maybe I’m just too old and should shut my mouth but I can’t understand, respect, or even tolerate the opinions of these blowhards.
I guess I am dancing around the real point of this essay, to make a list of the things I truly believe and put it out there so there are no more questions. Some of these opinions may be diametrically opposed to one another and all I can say is that real life is messy and the numbers in the ledger never balance. So with that in mind here I go, in no particular order and zero organization. I make no apologies for these beliefs, they are mine and if you don’t like them the door is right behind you.
{C}· I believe that people should be able to make their own decisions as long as they are not overtly hurting others.
{C}· I believe that men and women are equal in that their unique pros and cons balance each other out.
{C}· I believe that as long as it’s consensual and children are not involved in any way what adults do in their beds, or anywhere else in their homes, is nobody else’s fucking business.
{C}· I believe that as long as I have not committed a felony or been diagnosed with a dangerous psychiatric disorder I can own a damn gun or ten if I want.
{C}· I believe in background checks for gun ownership for EVERYONE.
{C}· I believe all Americans should have equal, competitive, and fair access to Healthcare and Education. Let me spell it out so there are no questions I believe that the government that we pay taxes to should provide 100% coverage for health care and education.
{C}· I believe in a strong, well trained and supplied, but not bloated military.
{C}· I believe a woman should have access to all forms of contraception.
{C}· I believe women should have full access to abortions before 20 weeks and that there should be exceptions for medical reasons after that.
{C}· I believe that Religious organizations should be tax free but that they have to spend the money they take in on good works and not horde it away or pay themselves millions of dollars.
{C}· I believe all mentions of religion must be removed from the government.
{C}· I believe citizens should pay fair taxes and by fair I mean the rich should have to pay more and that corporations should actually have to pay their fucking taxes.
{C}· I believe that corporations are NOT PEOPLE and should not have RIGHTS.
{C}· I believe there should be zero corporate money in politics.
{C}· I believe the uber rich run the world and they do not give a flying fuck about any of us.
{C}· I believe that Obama is a good man and a bad President … I also feel the same way about GW Bush.
{C}· I believe Michigan is he most beautiful place I have ever seen.
{C}· I believe Clowns are monster from a dark and vile dimension.
{C}· I believe that obligations go both ways whether it’s in government or employment.
{C}· I believe having a union is better than not having one.
{C}· I believe everyone has the right to disagree with me,
{C}· I believe in the Death Penalty but only in the most extreme circumstances.
{C}· I believe the GitMo detentions are a stain on the nations soul.
{C}· I believe in an afterlife but I have no clue what it will be.
{C}· I believe I have the right to edit and add to this list whenever I want.
{C}· I believe in the power of love.
{C}· I believe in the power of hate.
{C}· I believe in luck.
{C}· I believe that sometime the bad guys wins.
{C}· I believe in hard work.
{C}· I believe in me.
Okay, that’s it. I have nothing else to say at the moment, I feel like I have been beaten by that gorilla in the old Samsonite commercials. This was harder than I thought it would be but looking over it I am happy with this list … for now.
{C}- Josh
When I have refused to give my opinion or GASP refused to debate the answers some individuals have gotten irritable. All I can say about this is that I am not asking you to believe the things I believe why do I have to believe the things you believe? I mean seriously kids getting pissed at somebody’s ideas and beliefs because they are different than yours but are not hurting anyone is really fucking stupid.
But Josh what are these salacious beliefs?
Calm the fuck down I’m getting to it.
Religiously I am somewhere between an atheist and an agnostic.
I can’t say I am truly an atheist because I want to believe in magic, I want to believe in a metaphysical world that we just have yet to penetrate. I want to believe that there are more highly evolved creatures in the universe than us. But that is not to say I want to believe in a God. I don’t, at least not as God had been presented by any of the major monotheistic religions. That God more often than not seems to be a creature of hate and exclusion at worst and a being of contradiction and confusion at best.
What really irks me is that the idea of a kind and loving god sounds like a good thing. But what even the best of religions appear to offer is a form of “Do this the way I tell you too or I will damn you to hell and take away your desert” or some other variation. All religions, to me, are tools people (mostly men) use to control the masses and accumulate wealth and power. I am sure there are exceptions to that statement but on the whole that is religion to me.
For that reason I do not debate religion and I do not accept religious reasons and justifications as valid in debates. If you think that I should be killed, pitied, excluded, or damned to hell because I have been attracted to men then you and I are never going to see eye to eye on anything of substance. I will give more thoughts on religion at the end of this essay when I provide a more specific list of the things I believe.
Moving on.
Freedom seems to be a word every wants to coop for their own purposes. Freedom and politics are so tightly intertwined in this country that I am not sure we know the difference anymore between our basic freedoms and the bullshit we are force fed by the corporations and politicians. I can’t really pick a political allegiance anymore. I used to consider myself either a Liberal Republican (believe it or not kids that creature used to exist) or a Conservative Democrat. I can’t call myself a Libertarian because I only agree with about 50% of what they claim to believe in. The same goes for the Socialists and the Greenies. I suppose I would consider myself an Independent but that feels more and more like a copout. I generally don’t talk about these things online because I get really fucking tired of people arguing minutia and semantics. I have actually had my opinions changed on occasion by a well reasoned and politely delivered argument. What I can’t deal with is the growing number of jackholes who scream some variation of …
“I AM SO SICK AND TIRED OF YOU FUCKIGN MORONS WHO DON’T AGREE WITH ME! JUST DO WHAT I WANT AND EVERYTHING WITLL BE OKAY YOU STUPID ASSHOLES!”
Seriously how the hell are you supposed to even have a conversation with these people? Maybe I’m just too old and should shut my mouth but I can’t understand, respect, or even tolerate the opinions of these blowhards.
I guess I am dancing around the real point of this essay, to make a list of the things I truly believe and put it out there so there are no more questions. Some of these opinions may be diametrically opposed to one another and all I can say is that real life is messy and the numbers in the ledger never balance. So with that in mind here I go, in no particular order and zero organization. I make no apologies for these beliefs, they are mine and if you don’t like them the door is right behind you.
{C}· I believe that people should be able to make their own decisions as long as they are not overtly hurting others.
{C}· I believe that men and women are equal in that their unique pros and cons balance each other out.
{C}· I believe that as long as it’s consensual and children are not involved in any way what adults do in their beds, or anywhere else in their homes, is nobody else’s fucking business.
{C}· I believe that as long as I have not committed a felony or been diagnosed with a dangerous psychiatric disorder I can own a damn gun or ten if I want.
{C}· I believe in background checks for gun ownership for EVERYONE.
{C}· I believe all Americans should have equal, competitive, and fair access to Healthcare and Education. Let me spell it out so there are no questions I believe that the government that we pay taxes to should provide 100% coverage for health care and education.
{C}· I believe in a strong, well trained and supplied, but not bloated military.
{C}· I believe a woman should have access to all forms of contraception.
{C}· I believe women should have full access to abortions before 20 weeks and that there should be exceptions for medical reasons after that.
{C}· I believe that Religious organizations should be tax free but that they have to spend the money they take in on good works and not horde it away or pay themselves millions of dollars.
{C}· I believe all mentions of religion must be removed from the government.
{C}· I believe citizens should pay fair taxes and by fair I mean the rich should have to pay more and that corporations should actually have to pay their fucking taxes.
{C}· I believe that corporations are NOT PEOPLE and should not have RIGHTS.
{C}· I believe there should be zero corporate money in politics.
{C}· I believe the uber rich run the world and they do not give a flying fuck about any of us.
{C}· I believe that Obama is a good man and a bad President … I also feel the same way about GW Bush.
{C}· I believe Michigan is he most beautiful place I have ever seen.
{C}· I believe Clowns are monster from a dark and vile dimension.
{C}· I believe that obligations go both ways whether it’s in government or employment.
{C}· I believe having a union is better than not having one.
{C}· I believe everyone has the right to disagree with me,
{C}· I believe in the Death Penalty but only in the most extreme circumstances.
{C}· I believe the GitMo detentions are a stain on the nations soul.
{C}· I believe in an afterlife but I have no clue what it will be.
{C}· I believe I have the right to edit and add to this list whenever I want.
{C}· I believe in the power of love.
{C}· I believe in the power of hate.
{C}· I believe in luck.
{C}· I believe that sometime the bad guys wins.
{C}· I believe in hard work.
{C}· I believe in me.
Okay, that’s it. I have nothing else to say at the moment, I feel like I have been beaten by that gorilla in the old Samsonite commercials. This was harder than I thought it would be but looking over it I am happy with this list … for now.
{C}- Josh
November 27, 2013
Happy Holidays!
This is my favorite time of the year. From Halloween until New Years I have always been able to put aside my troubles and be relatively happy. Most, if not all, of you know that I am a Bi-Polar. I suffer from a severe depression which manifested itself in my mid teens. The first crescendo of this condition occurred when I attempted to off myself two months before my seventeenth birthday. Yes I know you all know about this because I won’t just shut the fuck up about it. All I can say in my defense is that the more I talk about it the les control that and similar experiences have over me.
The exception of the fall of 2008 I have nothing bad to say about any of my end of the year experiences. And to be fair 2008 was when I didn’t even put the tree up, my oldest daughter did it on Christmas Eve. That year I was in the throes of the single worst depression of my life and I literally came out of it ON Christmas Day … MERRY FUCKING CHRISTMAS! Even the Christmas, I think I was 7, when we had no heat was still awesome.
My mom has problems. I have talked about them and worked them out of my system so I have no desire to rehash them here. All that would do is hurt her if she ever reads this. She never reads my stuff as far as I know so that is only a slim possibility. The one thing my other has always done right is Christmas, no matter how bad things were, no matter how little money we had, my mom made sure that Christmas was a memory to be treasured.
Anna Hilden, my mom, is a clever woman. She began shopping for next year’s Christmas as soon as this year’s was finished. She was like a hawk when it came to sales and promotional events. She would always go to K-Marts “Blue Light Madness” sale (do they even do that anymore) and she was the Queen of Black Friday until it became so greed inspired it was no longer fun.
Mom has been a Bi-Polar with a chemical dependency problem for most of my life. She also suffers from Seasonal Effective Disorder which means when it gets cold and dark all she wants to do is curl up in bed and not get up again until spring. But for Christmas when I was a child my mother always managed to overcome her depression long enough for us to enjoy the Holiday. Yes the next day she was very likely back in bed and it was up to me and my brother to rectify the wrapping paper and decoration apocalypse but that was okay. It was all worth it.
No matter what, Christmas was always a good time.
I have seasonal effective … blah, blah, mother fucking blah myself. But for me it’s the summer. When the humidity is high, the thermometer breaks, and the sun never sets but instead lies in wait behind buildings and trees to ambush and rape me I am miserable. I never matters how low I have the AC set or how few clothes I wear, I am miserable and all I want to do is sleep until the leaves change and the flowers die.
The last quarter of the years was always my refuge.
The first Holiday Season I spent as a father I was worried and my worry was very selfish. I was worried that Halloween and Christmas would become boring and that all of the things I loved about them would be negated. It would in fact be ruined by the needs and wants of three little children and one infant who could never “Get” how important this time of the year is to me.
Okay you can now commence with calling me a fucking moron. I won’t be mad just get it over with so I can move on and wrap this up.
Done?
Good, moving on.
Kids make the holiday season a million billion trillion times better. Taking my kids trick or treating is amazing. Taking them to my Grandma’s house for Thanksgiving is one of the highlights of my year. And I think that it goes without saying I cannot imagine Christmas without my family. Two years ago I started a new tradition were al of the kids, there significant others, and honorary immediate family members come over. We eat, watch Christmas movies, drink, and have some of the best moments of my year.
Few if any memories beat seeing my sedate reserved baby brother turned into a drunken hugging giggly kid.
So what is the point of this essay?
Is it to say I am depressed mother fucker?
No, not at all, in fact I feel really good right now.
Is it to reminisce about my childhood holidays?
Maybe to a degree, I love those memories.
Is it to tell how much better the holidays are with my kids?
Yeah that is a significant portion of it I guess.
Is it because I feel like bragging about how good my life has been lately?
Not gonna answer that one.
What I will say instead is that I love all of you. All of you I know in real life and those of you who I have an intense online friendship with. I love my readers and my fans (I feel a little douchey writing that one) I wouldn’t be where I am right now if it wasn’t for each and every one of you. I hate, Hate, HATE it when people go on about how blessed they are (Has nothing to do with the person saying it, it just was a favorite bit of crap my original Step Monster used fling at me). What I will say instead is that I am lucky to have each and every one of you in my life.
More than any medication you people have helped me with my depression. I will never conquer it but with your support and kindness I can keep it in a check and be able to live my life in relative freedom. Things are only looking up for me and my family, there amazing and major things in the offing that I can’t wait to share. So what I guess I am saying with this is essay is this;
THANK YOU!
The exception of the fall of 2008 I have nothing bad to say about any of my end of the year experiences. And to be fair 2008 was when I didn’t even put the tree up, my oldest daughter did it on Christmas Eve. That year I was in the throes of the single worst depression of my life and I literally came out of it ON Christmas Day … MERRY FUCKING CHRISTMAS! Even the Christmas, I think I was 7, when we had no heat was still awesome.
My mom has problems. I have talked about them and worked them out of my system so I have no desire to rehash them here. All that would do is hurt her if she ever reads this. She never reads my stuff as far as I know so that is only a slim possibility. The one thing my other has always done right is Christmas, no matter how bad things were, no matter how little money we had, my mom made sure that Christmas was a memory to be treasured.
Anna Hilden, my mom, is a clever woman. She began shopping for next year’s Christmas as soon as this year’s was finished. She was like a hawk when it came to sales and promotional events. She would always go to K-Marts “Blue Light Madness” sale (do they even do that anymore) and she was the Queen of Black Friday until it became so greed inspired it was no longer fun.
Mom has been a Bi-Polar with a chemical dependency problem for most of my life. She also suffers from Seasonal Effective Disorder which means when it gets cold and dark all she wants to do is curl up in bed and not get up again until spring. But for Christmas when I was a child my mother always managed to overcome her depression long enough for us to enjoy the Holiday. Yes the next day she was very likely back in bed and it was up to me and my brother to rectify the wrapping paper and decoration apocalypse but that was okay. It was all worth it.
No matter what, Christmas was always a good time.
I have seasonal effective … blah, blah, mother fucking blah myself. But for me it’s the summer. When the humidity is high, the thermometer breaks, and the sun never sets but instead lies in wait behind buildings and trees to ambush and rape me I am miserable. I never matters how low I have the AC set or how few clothes I wear, I am miserable and all I want to do is sleep until the leaves change and the flowers die.
The last quarter of the years was always my refuge.
The first Holiday Season I spent as a father I was worried and my worry was very selfish. I was worried that Halloween and Christmas would become boring and that all of the things I loved about them would be negated. It would in fact be ruined by the needs and wants of three little children and one infant who could never “Get” how important this time of the year is to me.
Okay you can now commence with calling me a fucking moron. I won’t be mad just get it over with so I can move on and wrap this up.
Done?
Good, moving on.
Kids make the holiday season a million billion trillion times better. Taking my kids trick or treating is amazing. Taking them to my Grandma’s house for Thanksgiving is one of the highlights of my year. And I think that it goes without saying I cannot imagine Christmas without my family. Two years ago I started a new tradition were al of the kids, there significant others, and honorary immediate family members come over. We eat, watch Christmas movies, drink, and have some of the best moments of my year.
Few if any memories beat seeing my sedate reserved baby brother turned into a drunken hugging giggly kid.
So what is the point of this essay?
Is it to say I am depressed mother fucker?
No, not at all, in fact I feel really good right now.
Is it to reminisce about my childhood holidays?
Maybe to a degree, I love those memories.
Is it to tell how much better the holidays are with my kids?
Yeah that is a significant portion of it I guess.
Is it because I feel like bragging about how good my life has been lately?
Not gonna answer that one.
What I will say instead is that I love all of you. All of you I know in real life and those of you who I have an intense online friendship with. I love my readers and my fans (I feel a little douchey writing that one) I wouldn’t be where I am right now if it wasn’t for each and every one of you. I hate, Hate, HATE it when people go on about how blessed they are (Has nothing to do with the person saying it, it just was a favorite bit of crap my original Step Monster used fling at me). What I will say instead is that I am lucky to have each and every one of you in my life.
More than any medication you people have helped me with my depression. I will never conquer it but with your support and kindness I can keep it in a check and be able to live my life in relative freedom. Things are only looking up for me and my family, there amazing and major things in the offing that I can’t wait to share. So what I guess I am saying with this is essay is this;
THANK YOU!
November 26, 2013
Cat Fight!
Do you have any idea what pisses me off?
Do you have any fucking clue my loyal and ravenous minions?
Well don’t fret if you can’t think of it, I am going to tell you whether you want to know or not. I mean really did you ever doubt I would deny you the pleasure of watching me bitch and moan like a racist dip wad who just learned his son married one of those “Brown Girls” or some other shit of equal stupidity?
Of course you didn’t. Because you know Josh loves you and loves to share the anger … the righteous glorious anger which fuels me!
So here we go.
I know I have promised to stop complaining about the asinine shit that takes place behind the scenes in the writing and publishing community. I know I’ve said I’m done commentating. But here is the real truth of the matter, some people don’t know win to keep their mouths, pens, word processors to themselves. This isn’t the 1980’s nothing stays private or “Just among friends” ever.
Two things have happened in my sphere in the last month that have stuck in my craw and caused massive face pain. These things are not associated with one another in any way beyond them being related to writing and the tendency of people who should know better to talk down to people just beginning to stake out their little bit of coastline and frame their dock. I have tried to ignore them and have not engaged the perpetrators of these transgressions online, but I need to vent.
It’s that or I hunt humans in the inner city … and I’m not going back to prison again.
Let me set the table before I begin bloviating like some self righteous upper middle class asshole. I am an okay writer, I don’t think I’m a great writer and I don’t think I am a great writer. I am a workmanlike writer who concentrates more on story than on significance of the blue door. Because sometimes a blue door is JUST A FUCKING BLUE DOOR!
Okay, moving on.
I am decent writer, a mediocre editor, and an enthusiastic publisher. What I am not and never claimed to be is a teacher. I have written a book entitled “Josh Hilden’s Useless Advice for New Writers” and the title tells you exactly what the book contains. I received a 1 star review on Amazon UK and here is the awesome 1 star review.
Badly written, lousy grammar, full of swear words (to no purpose) and this is supposed to be advice for new writers. Don't make me laugh. This is absolutely dreadful. If it were possible to give it a score of zero that would still be too high.
This review makes me laugh like a son of a bitch. Like nearly every review I’ve ever received I take it with a grain of salt. He/She didn’t like it. In fact they hated it so much they wanted to give it a zero. Funny thing is they bought a Kindle copy and hated it so much they didn’t return it. Or they got it when I had it FREE and decided to trash something they didn’t pay for. But I will give this person a pass, they probably don’t realize how much bad reviews can hurt sales and rankings along with trashing new writers self confidence.
Fellow writers are a different story.
I do not review book unless I like them, ever. I am not going to trash another writers work because it’s not a fair review, yes I know what I like and don’t like but I will always be comparing what they publish to what I would have written with the same nugget of a tale to begin with. I also never comment on the quality of a writer or their work on social media or in blogs unless they relate to me personally (ie work from Palladium Books jumps to mind). While I think there are writers who can separate themselves from the object most of us can’t, I can’t and I don’t know of any writer personally who can.
Right now you may be asking, “Josh did a writer review your work and hurt your damn delicate feelings?”
First, no as far as I know no fellow writer has reviewed my work recently. If they have it’s been under the radar, besides I haven’t been reading the reviews as of late. Second … FUCK YOU! I cry every time I watch the ER episode where Mark dies, I cry at the Fry’s Dog episode of Futurama, and I cry at the double feature of I Remember You and Simon & Mary on Adventure Time. So piss off.
What actually happened was I read some Facebook Bullshit by two writers, one of them with a modest career volume wise and the other fucking legend in his field. The comments were separate and had nothing to do with one another but they were also some of the most condescending bullshit I’ve read in awhile. Neither of these people knows me, my work, or anything of relevance about me. Neither of these people would ever consider me their league. I will not be naming names, I will not be citing direct quotes, and I will not be making it easy for any of you to track this down.
That being said lets dive into this quagmire of me thinking it’s my place to rail against my better for no other reason than it pleases me. And let me assure you my minions, it pleases me much.
The first incident is one of condescension. A writer made a post about how they are sick and tired of people with only a couple of published works offering advice to new writers. This person has an MFA in English and has half a dozen published works. This person is convinced that anyone who is offering advice to people who are in a position they themselves have recently occupied have zero business trying to help. This writer has further stated that it makes her laugh because these people can’t possibly know what they are talking about while this writer is a fucking genius.
So here is my question to the unnamed writer.
Just when exactly can one writer offer advice to a new writer? Is it when we have achieved your Jedi like level of wisdom? Or is it because since we don’t have a nearly useless degree we will never be qualified?
Asshat … moving on.
The second incident is the case of a legend in a field thinking they can somehow dictate the worth of another. This person has been working maybe longer than I have been alive. This person is a living fucking legend in his field. This person also has a reputation as a real prick, but a prick that in the past has been able to identify and polish young talent. Considering this person’s body of work and level of talent I am willing to let a lot of douche bag behavior slide, a lot but not all.
This person said that no writer should ever call themselves a writer. According to this writer another writer has no ground to call themselves a writer. It is in fact a massively arrogant thing to do. According to this writer it is up for other people to bestow the title of writer.
I don’t even know how to attack this one. I seriously, this is one of the most asinine thing I’ve ever heard another writer say. It is right up there with a certain writer I know who claimed he was one of those few writers who was qualified to be his own final editor.
Okay that’s it, I’m finished for today. Our lesson today is that asshole writers need to stop being back biting petty bitches. Its bad enough we have to deal with dumbass reviewers who get off on shredding peoples work. It’s bad enough that Indie and Mainstream writers can’t seem to get along. It’s bad enough that we are being used as pawns in the publishing world.
Do we really need to try and fuck each other?
Do you have any fucking clue my loyal and ravenous minions?
Well don’t fret if you can’t think of it, I am going to tell you whether you want to know or not. I mean really did you ever doubt I would deny you the pleasure of watching me bitch and moan like a racist dip wad who just learned his son married one of those “Brown Girls” or some other shit of equal stupidity?
Of course you didn’t. Because you know Josh loves you and loves to share the anger … the righteous glorious anger which fuels me!
So here we go.
I know I have promised to stop complaining about the asinine shit that takes place behind the scenes in the writing and publishing community. I know I’ve said I’m done commentating. But here is the real truth of the matter, some people don’t know win to keep their mouths, pens, word processors to themselves. This isn’t the 1980’s nothing stays private or “Just among friends” ever.
Two things have happened in my sphere in the last month that have stuck in my craw and caused massive face pain. These things are not associated with one another in any way beyond them being related to writing and the tendency of people who should know better to talk down to people just beginning to stake out their little bit of coastline and frame their dock. I have tried to ignore them and have not engaged the perpetrators of these transgressions online, but I need to vent.
It’s that or I hunt humans in the inner city … and I’m not going back to prison again.
Let me set the table before I begin bloviating like some self righteous upper middle class asshole. I am an okay writer, I don’t think I’m a great writer and I don’t think I am a great writer. I am a workmanlike writer who concentrates more on story than on significance of the blue door. Because sometimes a blue door is JUST A FUCKING BLUE DOOR!
Okay, moving on.
I am decent writer, a mediocre editor, and an enthusiastic publisher. What I am not and never claimed to be is a teacher. I have written a book entitled “Josh Hilden’s Useless Advice for New Writers” and the title tells you exactly what the book contains. I received a 1 star review on Amazon UK and here is the awesome 1 star review.
Badly written, lousy grammar, full of swear words (to no purpose) and this is supposed to be advice for new writers. Don't make me laugh. This is absolutely dreadful. If it were possible to give it a score of zero that would still be too high.
This review makes me laugh like a son of a bitch. Like nearly every review I’ve ever received I take it with a grain of salt. He/She didn’t like it. In fact they hated it so much they wanted to give it a zero. Funny thing is they bought a Kindle copy and hated it so much they didn’t return it. Or they got it when I had it FREE and decided to trash something they didn’t pay for. But I will give this person a pass, they probably don’t realize how much bad reviews can hurt sales and rankings along with trashing new writers self confidence.
Fellow writers are a different story.
I do not review book unless I like them, ever. I am not going to trash another writers work because it’s not a fair review, yes I know what I like and don’t like but I will always be comparing what they publish to what I would have written with the same nugget of a tale to begin with. I also never comment on the quality of a writer or their work on social media or in blogs unless they relate to me personally (ie work from Palladium Books jumps to mind). While I think there are writers who can separate themselves from the object most of us can’t, I can’t and I don’t know of any writer personally who can.
Right now you may be asking, “Josh did a writer review your work and hurt your damn delicate feelings?”
First, no as far as I know no fellow writer has reviewed my work recently. If they have it’s been under the radar, besides I haven’t been reading the reviews as of late. Second … FUCK YOU! I cry every time I watch the ER episode where Mark dies, I cry at the Fry’s Dog episode of Futurama, and I cry at the double feature of I Remember You and Simon & Mary on Adventure Time. So piss off.
What actually happened was I read some Facebook Bullshit by two writers, one of them with a modest career volume wise and the other fucking legend in his field. The comments were separate and had nothing to do with one another but they were also some of the most condescending bullshit I’ve read in awhile. Neither of these people knows me, my work, or anything of relevance about me. Neither of these people would ever consider me their league. I will not be naming names, I will not be citing direct quotes, and I will not be making it easy for any of you to track this down.
That being said lets dive into this quagmire of me thinking it’s my place to rail against my better for no other reason than it pleases me. And let me assure you my minions, it pleases me much.
The first incident is one of condescension. A writer made a post about how they are sick and tired of people with only a couple of published works offering advice to new writers. This person has an MFA in English and has half a dozen published works. This person is convinced that anyone who is offering advice to people who are in a position they themselves have recently occupied have zero business trying to help. This writer has further stated that it makes her laugh because these people can’t possibly know what they are talking about while this writer is a fucking genius.
So here is my question to the unnamed writer.
Just when exactly can one writer offer advice to a new writer? Is it when we have achieved your Jedi like level of wisdom? Or is it because since we don’t have a nearly useless degree we will never be qualified?
Asshat … moving on.
The second incident is the case of a legend in a field thinking they can somehow dictate the worth of another. This person has been working maybe longer than I have been alive. This person is a living fucking legend in his field. This person also has a reputation as a real prick, but a prick that in the past has been able to identify and polish young talent. Considering this person’s body of work and level of talent I am willing to let a lot of douche bag behavior slide, a lot but not all.
This person said that no writer should ever call themselves a writer. According to this writer another writer has no ground to call themselves a writer. It is in fact a massively arrogant thing to do. According to this writer it is up for other people to bestow the title of writer.
I don’t even know how to attack this one. I seriously, this is one of the most asinine thing I’ve ever heard another writer say. It is right up there with a certain writer I know who claimed he was one of those few writers who was qualified to be his own final editor.
Okay that’s it, I’m finished for today. Our lesson today is that asshole writers need to stop being back biting petty bitches. Its bad enough we have to deal with dumbass reviewers who get off on shredding peoples work. It’s bad enough that Indie and Mainstream writers can’t seem to get along. It’s bad enough that we are being used as pawns in the publishing world.
Do we really need to try and fuck each other?
