Michael Kindt's Blog, page 414
February 1, 2012
2:48 pm.
Rye whiskey.
I am celebrating. Early Onset of Night, Volume Two is essentially done. Well, the writing has been done awhile, but the gory details are about done now.
There is the matter of the cover, the matter of the order.
The FUCKING order, I should say.
My writing strikes people as very autobiographical. It's in my tone, the way I write the stories. Am I saying it's not autobiographical? Not necessarily, but this conversational tone is very prominent in this book, which becomes problematic with horror.
Did you really do this??? People who have read it wonder. Did you really kidnap someone???
I plead the fifth. As a writer, you should NEVER show your cards. Well, except for the ace.
But the order. It's fucking with me. Humor and horror. Poignancy and violence. How does it all fit together. In what way? In what order?
Fuckit.
Rye whiskey.
warholandliza replied to your post: He had spent the day drinking Manhattans.
McDonald's gets rid of...
McDonald's gets rid of pink slime. Hmm doesn't that resemble one of your most legendary posts?
Yes….my "legendary" chicken post :) Almost as legendary as my pile o' shit tattoo post. I saw that pink slime story. McDonald's, nice bastards that they are, is no longer gonna use beef that contains ammonia. Yay, for them. I guess.
He had spent the day drinking Manhattans.
He'd had the first at precisely 12:18 pm, quite early by puritanical American standards. Silly Americans, he thought drunkenly, we have actually convinced ourselves that alcohol is bad, yet we all eat pill after pill because we're so depressed.
He tried to think of someone under the age of 25 not on anti-depressants, but could think of no one.
He stumbled over to the calendar and changed it to February, wondering when anti-depressants would be put into the water supply like fluoride, wondering when, for our own good, we would all be rendered smiling and soulless.
"It's sick to be sad," he said to himself, then smiled soullessly.
He went into the spare bedroom for the tenth time that day and looked out the window at Roscoe, his neighbor's dog. Roscoe had been on punishment for the past three days, which meant his leash had been shortened so much that he couldn't lay down and his food and water had been taken away.
The dog slumped miserably, practically hanging from the wooden pole that held him in place.
"Poor Roscoe," he said, his eyes filling with tears, "What did you do this time?"
What the world needs.
I've been thinking lately about how I can make the world a better place, about how I can give back. I mean, I know I'm just some mouthy bald dude from South Dakota, but, really, I think I can help.
So today I went to my favorite thinking spot, which is the graveyard, and sat down in the dead winter grass. I turned my hand into a fist and placed my chin on it and began some hardcore, balls-to-the-wall pondering.
Less than a minute later, I knew.
I knew how make the world better, how to improve things, not only for this generation, but for every generation to come. My epiphany was so emotional I sprang to my feet and ran in slow motion through dramatic soft lighting to my car, which was parked next to my favorite Woodman of the World tombstone.
I came directly here, to the internet, to enlighten you, the masses.
The world needs more celebrities. Simple as that. The terrible shortage of celebrities is of such mythic proportions it's astounding how it hasn't been noticed before. Politicians are too busy learning their lines, so they won't help. That leaves only one other option: television.
My suggestion is this: we use the enormous power of television to generate more celebrities. We would make dozens of tv shows that do nothing but attempt to manufacture new stars. These shows would be fragmented into the various categories of celebrity, such as Typical Pop Singer, Generic Skinny Model, Yet Another Celebrity Chef, and so on.
The tv shows would be in the form of competitions, where ordinary dipshits compete with other ordinary dipshits to prove they are extraordinary dipshits. There'd be voting and/or judging and in no time at all, hundreds of new celebrities would be created.
And the people of the America would just sit there watching, sit there taking it all in as one Next Big Thing after another is constructed before them, sit there with eyes glazed over and head fucking empty.
January 31, 2012
Grab Bag.
I am extremely careful when cutting peppers.Slicing, dicing, mincing, whatever. I eat the damn things in just about everything, so I'm doing it a lot, too. Invariably when I'm working with peppers, especially really hot ones, my body does weird things, like my eyes will itch or my junk will need to be adjusted. Every. Damn. Time. And I will forget and rub my eye. Or worse, stick my hand down my pants and "shake hands with Mr. Happy." Then I will have a case of the dick burns, which, I am fairly certain, only a blowjob can cure.
Money is so whatever. I have chosen this path and…period. Success is defined by that alone. This is what I am going to do until I die. "All other priorities," as Ash says creepily in Alien, "are rescinded." I have made money before and it was not that fun. The having it, I mean. The making it was fun. The building of a completely unconventional lifeplan that resulted in so much money, now that was fun. It was like I had pulled a practical joke on the universe and the universe totally fell for it. But having lots of money bred boredom with the unusual, which is a terrible way to be. It generated stuff, none of which, I realized, I wanted. I mean, why did I buy an enormous oak table with four enormous oak chairs when I only eat in bed while watching Seinfeld dvds? If my rent is paid (I wouldn't ever own a house) and my car is running and my fridge has food and beer in it and there's a twenty dollar bill in my pocket, I'm good. The rich say money cannot buy happiness and the poor say easy for you to say. The poor say it's easier to cry in a mansion than a shitty one bedroom apartment, but it isn't. It's fucking shameful.
Silk boxers give me wood. Every step I take it's "Oh, baby."
Do not be fooled by your life. Do not think that at some point—when you graduate, get married, get promoted, have kids, buy your first home—your life will begin. Life, John Lennon wrote, is what happens when you're busy making plans.
I find it very telling that the basic morality one finds among atheists, called in a sort generic, pop psychology way "being a good person", is the same basic morality you find in any other religious expression. Tolerance, generosity, kindness, compassion, etc., are the moral bedrocks of Christianity, Islam, Buddhism, Hinduism, Taoism, and any other religion you can think of. There is a reason for this, but no one can tell me what it is. Christians will tell you "God says so," which don't cut it, and atheists will just shrug and quote some more Carl Sagan. There is an underlying truth to all religions. Atheistic humanism is simply man being religious and behaving morally without (so he imagines) a god. If anyone can explain to me why us humans have the same basic idea of goodness, despite a religious or non-religious bent, I will give you five bucks.
Prisca Theologia, bitches! \m/
I am officially sick of lists of things writers should (or shouldn't) do. Top ten this, top ten that. Eight things blah, blah, blah. Sure, there might be some gems in all these stupid lists, but that doesn't make 'em any less stupid. Some are pretty pompous and downright incorrect, though. For example, I saw one that told me I shouldn't write in the first person. Excuse me, I mean HIM. It told HIM he shouldn't write in the first person. And what are the qualifications for making one of these lists? Just making one, that's all. "I made a list. I'm a writing expert!" Or maybe just having a blog. Hell, it's 2012. My cat has a blog. Anyway, here's my own list, THE TOP ONE THING WRITERS OF WRITING ADVICE LISTS SHOULD DO.
1. Stop.
I know you don't like GMO, you have to read this one article. How do I send you a link??
If you wanna do it in my ask, and that's pretty much the only way, you'll have to type it out so Tumblr can't tell it's a link.
Widespread abuse alleged at two pig farmsAiming to pressure two...
Widespread abuse alleged at two pig farms
Aiming to pressure two of the largest U.S. producers of pork, one of them a Walmart* supplier, into changing how they treat pigs, the Humane Society of the United States on Tuesday said it had staged undercover operations that revealed atrocious conditions.
The group said its undercover operatives "found workers cutting piglets testicles and tails off with no painkiller, injured piglets with their legs duct taped to their bodies, gestation crates overflowing with feces and urine, and employees hitting pigs' genitals to force them to move from one crate to another."
*swine
January 30, 2012
Sure you do. No matter what woman, big or small, white or black,...
Sure you do. No matter what woman, big or small, white or black, Panamanian or Australian, even gingers, you put those hands ON HER ASS.
"All that glitters is not gold. Sometimes, though, the things that glitter are, like, the opposite of..."
- New motto chosen for the DPA (Divorced People of America).
"Republicans will tell you we need to reduce spending by...
"Republicans will tell you we need to reduce spending by cutting things like education and help for the poor, because, you know, that's the REAL problem behind all this debt. (Nyuk, nyuk). Make rich people pay a fair tax rate? Come ON! End corporate welfare? Are you HIGH? The debt is caused by people who don't have enough money to begin with, so we need to take whatever they do have away. Food stamps? There's a perfectly good dumpster in the alley. Health care? Think of your financial inability to fight your cancer as an extremely late late-term abortion. Taking everything away from those who don't have much makes it possible to avoid doing something psychotic like making people such as Mitt Romney pay a tax rate as high as a school teacher's." READ THE REST.
Hello, there. This is the cartoon they selected for my latest article, 'Dr. Doom' Predicts The Obvious. Um, I don't get it.
