Evan Bollinger's Blog, page 3

What they're saying:

"Intriguing, fast paced, a definite page-turner"




"Captured my attention from the very beginning"



"What, if anything, is real?" 









Available on Amazon









The voices are buzzing. Check out my new short story on Amazon today!


And be sure to see my dramatic comedy for the dreamers in us all: Parking Lot Kings 

An Occult Novella

"What, if anything, is real?" 
"Intriguing, fast paced, a definite page-turner"
"Captured my attention from the very beginning"



Available on Amazon


The voices are buzzing. Check out my new short story on Amazon today!
And be sure to see my dramatic comedy for the dreamers in us all: Parking Lot Kings 

Come & Go

People are always coming andgoing. One day drifts into one month, and in a matter of years, a clearlymagnified memory fades to condensation on rippled glass. Haze always finds itsway in. More important friends stickthrough the storms and the summer burn; however, "friends" of circumstance,those for the moment when the reasons are right—they are gone once theirpurpose is served. Other acquaintances come and go, and we never know, forcertain, when they'll come waltzing back in. But with some people, it's hardto leave the door open. Some people, once the time has passed, you don't wantthem comin 'round knockin. "Go away,big bad wolf. Leave me be."A lot of people have a way ofshutting off. Leave the emotional baggage in the rearview, I suppose. Forgetand move on. Learn and grow. Go forward with eyes wide open. Let the past bepast. It's a funny saying, really. Somany people wish to let the past be the past. They want it to stay back there.Set up a roadblock and some flares, and keep those old dusty memories fromrollin up.But this doesn't always work.Our past is in our bones. Ourpast is the wrinkles on our face, the bruise on our leg, the enamel on ourteeth, the wear and tear on our organs and our psyches. Our past is ourpersonal history. And it's a running narrative.But sometimeswe just wanna forget. And there's nothing wrong with that. But it's hard asshit sometimes. It's tough to rub away an almost indelible stain. We can banishit to the infinite recesses of our memory banks—but it's always floating somewherein the void. And sometimes, when you let something float around, it's only amatter of time before it bumps back into you. A sort of asteroid belt of ugly,forgotten thoughts.And the strangest things can trigger what we deem, by allaccounts, to be totally unrelated. But certainly, the mystery of the cerebralcosmos is that all things are somehow linked. Somewhere down the causeway, offthis detour, and through this isolated woods, and by this gnarled stump, and upthis secluded knoll... the neural network will take us there.In our lives, people come andgo. People make the difference when we let them. But people can also drift asghosts, if we so choose to let them. And it's easy to be a ghost. It's harderto be real. It's harder to let people in because, then, of course... we'vegotta let ourselves out.But being a ghost always hasits pains. With everything, there are regrets. And when you choose to drift,there's always another level unexplored. The curtains are never fully parted. And when they are, sometimes it's ugly on the other side. Sometimes, the viewoutside the window is far from serene. Sometimes, colors are harsh, and soundsare loud, and the scent and touch leaves us jaded. At times, there's too muchlight. Which is why I wear sunglasses.

Adrift

I think I sleep too much. 
More than most, at least. Perhaps, my body and mind justrequire more. Or perhaps, I'm overdoing it—perhaps I'm depressed? 
Or maybe...  maybe Ijust love the experience of sleep. 
Some people like to get up and going. Some people hate theidea of being inactive in one spot for too long. Me, personally—I find thisperiod of 'inactivity' to be very active. 
Dreaming is one of my favorite past times, and when I don'tget the chance to do it during the day, I can always look forward to thatmystical retreat to my covers come night. 
For me, few things compare to that initial trickle ofthought upon opening your eyes in the morning (or afternoon). 
It's that blurred frontier where previous thoughts andvisions stick to my mental landscape like snowflakes; but they are never accommodating,and the ground always seems to be a tad too warm. In time, these snowflakes meltaway, giving strength to the grass and dirt of my waking mind. 
But if I play it just right, I can keep them around—bothflake and ground, persisting, alive for me to think back and think forward. Forme to remember phantoms and real-world. 
Though sometimes, it's difficult to tease the real from theimaginary. I find myself recalling things, only to question if what I rememberever actually happened. The forces of unconscious are always on us; the gravityof our psyche. 
Sometimes my memories are but tears and rips of thedreamscape. I've plucked a piece here, unraveled some of the veil there. Andthough many times, I may try to draw this curtain whole, to separate stage frombackstage, there is always a crack. 
The door is always open. And light has a funny knack forfinding its way in.But who am I to say that remembering fragments of a dream isnot good enough? Why should I be focused on remembering things that 'actually'happened in real-life?
I don't think anybody knows enough to say what is worthy andwhat is not. Are dreams not inextricably tied to the daily processes of ourbrains and our worlds? Are we not constantly awake, regardless of state?
On some levels, I don't think I've ever slept a wink in mylife.
But at times, I could swear I've floated through all of it.

Indulge me...

There exists this concept of a Multiverse. 
It changes depending upon the exact theory you take, butthey all seem to have their similarities.
I imagine looking at a map online. Say, Google Maps orMapquest. Now, you're staring at this map. Maybe, you're enjoying a look atlocal streets and cul-de-sacs. Perhaps, you're taking a virtual tour of quaintneighborhoods and corner businesses. As you move this way and that, you havethe option of zooming. Let's say you choose to zoom out. You zoom out. With eachdegree, these small side streets shrink and fade. At first, they are arteries.Then, mere veins. Then, they constrict to an almost imperceptible tangle ofcapillaries. 
Then, they blink out from existence altogether. As you go, othermore prominent features move before your eyes, only, to fade and disappearentirely. 
Interstates and monuments and parks and zip codes andcounties—all, without fail, are reduced. In the end, what was once vast nolonger warrants a visual rendering.
Everything is so small, not even a blip on the radar.
It may seem that all these features—the side streets andwatering holes and courts and suburban developments—are insignificant. 
But they're not. 
They're immensely significant. Individually, they representsomething of personal and communal importance. They are people's backyards,favorite routes, favorite parks, favorite restaurants and bike shops andbakeries and places to get cold snowballs after a day of running in the sun. 
And collectively, these miniscule points on the map are the map. They are the buildingblocks, the atoms—the most basic structure that makes it all possible. They maydisappear when the whole picture has been drawn, but they are there.
Things unseen are worth more than meets the eye. 
See, I envision the Multiverse as something akin to this. Itis infinite, with endless parallel dimensions, endless hypotheticals playedout, simultaneously, somewhere. Every part is significant. 
In one reality of the Multiverse, I chose to stop typing N 
But in this reality, I continue to type. In another realityof the Multiverse, I dropped out of high school. In one, I put all my effortinto finding the most attractive girlfriend ever. Some of my alternaterealities have already ended—perhaps cut short by an accident, or disease, ormurder, or suicide.
What if we tap into the Multiverse? What if, we are notdetached from these alternate realities existing alongside our own, but, infact, experience them, unknowingly?
What if it's all one big crazy network. The Multiverse couldbe like the human brain. It could be unfathomably intricate, with chemicals andelectrical signals firing every which way, as if every Fourth of July fireworkcelebration was incorporated into one dazzling show.
Imagine... we are connected by our collective unconscious. Ourbrains in these infinite alternate realities speak to one another. We don'teven know it. Ideas we have, thoughts and emotions... when we tend to dip intoa certain state or sickness or pain, without knowing exactly why... 
Perhaps, a reality has ended somewhere else, or somethingtragic has happened... Maybe the Multiverse functions like synapses, and thesesensations are fired across the network, across the synaptic gap, hitting allof us.
Certain human beings are born with certain abilities. Somecan sense the infinite versions of themselves better than others. Some are tornto pieces by it, not knowing from where their great internal distress stems,but nonetheless melting under its effects. Psychosis? Synesthesia? All kinds ofdisorders and maladies and exceptional abilities... 
What this all seems to mean, of course, is that there is no"you" and "I."
Perhaps, when we dream we are, in fact, seeing snippets ofthese alternate realities. We are experiencing what has happened or what ishappening in another dimension. Perhaps, when dreaming, we temporarily subsumeone if not some if not all, simultaneously, of our infinitive alter selves. 
But what about when we die? Do we really die? Or do wesimply snap to another reality, and the transition is seamless, and we have norecollection of having ended, aside from the collective cognitions thatmanifest from time to time? 
Maybe the Multiverse is like a big server. With a shit ton of data. Theinfinity of it all baffles us, but then again, it should. Because we are but humans, mere pieces in the crazy schemeof the world. We are not intended to know things. We are merely meant toexperience.

Mushroom Cloud

I've always wondered: What would happen in the case of anuclear explosion hitting my country? 
Worse yet, given the power of nuclear weapons these days,would the bomb even have to detonate anywhere near me? Or could they just plopit off at a 7-11 in Dubai and have it reshape most of the planet?I can imagine that people of importance, "VIPs,"would probably be escorted to a bunker. The president would be safe.High-ranking political figures and those in the popular media would probablyhave some kind of safeguards. Paranoid doomsayers would probably already havebunkers or subterranean lairs prepared.
I wonder, is there anything we can really do once a nuclearbomb has detonated? I mean, the shockwaves would hit us so quickly, it seemslike we might as well just count our blessings and hope for a quickannihilation. I suppose we have things prepared in case of a potential nuclear attack, but what canreally be done once the attack has been carried out? 
And would I want to be the one underground during the wholething? 
If I'm some big shot important person, and I emerge from myprotective bunker, only to find that virtually everything has been reduced to awasteland, am I really thanking my lucky stars that I survived?And what about those who survive, but with radiationpoisoning? And then five years later they birth babies with fish heads andthree arms? 
It's hard to imagine that somebody would be crazy enough toemploy nuclear warfare that could wipe out most the planet. I mean, even ifyou're the meanest, most deranged sunnavabitch, how the hell is destroying everything gonna do anything for you? 
Way to go moron, you've destroyed 99% of the world'sinfrastructure. You've eradicated our natural resources, you've wiped outspecies of animals that you always enjoyed eating. And your only friend, thatloony guy Aljaharda, was reduced to crispy chicken because you just couldn't wait to hit the red detonator.
Nice one, champ. 
Oh no, but that's right, that's right... all you care aboutis the power, the control. You just want to be the one deciding the fate ofothers. Well good goin on that. 
Unfortunately, there are so few people now living on theplanet, your plan to 'control the masses' is equivalent to a teacher running a classof 30.
But stop. What if I'm wrong? What if most of us do survive?What if the government does have underground cities waiting in case of such athreat? What if, in the case of a nuclear threat, large metropolitan areascould be evacuated to underground facilities for protection? I'd imagine itwould get pretty crammed. And there'd probably be a lot of crying babies andhysterical people and lunatics raving how the time has come to "pay forour sins." 
Ya know what, just keep me on the outside. Not sure if Icould deal with that...
Admittedly, I know next to nothing of nuclear/thermonuclearweaponry, aside from what I've learned playing in the post-apocalyptic worldsof the videogames. 
But something tells me the real thing would be just a taddifferent...

If you like what I say....

Check out my scathing satire, Shit Ain't Perfect: Lessons in Real-World Living.

Available at these locations:

Amazon
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Note: I'll also be releasing a psychological thriller, Ten, about an Ivy League Professor turned Serial Killer who targets his victims based on his own twisted form of eugenics. That coming shortly.

Sippin Light

I think we should focus on finding a way to drink the sun. Ithink this would help with a lot of Vitamin D deficiencies, combat depression,eliminate the need for dangerous tanning beds, and generally improve thequality of life. 
Now, before you accuse me of ingesting one too manyhallucinogens, hear me out: The sun sustains us. It is the crux of life. I mean, SunnyDelight is a nice drink, but we really need to get more focused here. Solarpanels are wonderful, eco-friendly, blah, blah, yada, yada. But what reallymatters is drinking the sun. 
I want to drink it. I want to taste the elixir, k? Listen,there are people out there with big ol' brains and 200+ IQs, and they'resitting around twiddling their thumbs, writing their fancy theories ofeverything. We don't need that. 
What we want (and I think I speak for all the irrational) isto drink the sun. It's a cool conceptin the figurative sense. Now imagine it in the literal sense.
Holy crap. I just evacuated my bowels. Forgive me. 
Anywho, back to the topic at hand. Drinking the sun. Ihaven't exactly defined what this means. And I don't intend to. That's up tothe braniacs. What I will do, is trust them. I'll trust that the mentalmonsters can figure a way to capture the quintessential sun—its awesome-estaspects—and make something cool.
Personally, I'd prefer this creation to subsume beverageform. No foods or candy bars. I want a drink. It could be in a slick bottle,and we could use all the marketing gimmicks the beer companies employ—"thiswide mouth can increases drinkability!" 
We could call it SunFlare and havelike a fiery design on the bottle. It could come in 16.9 and 22 oz varieties. 
Furthermore, if SunFlare catches on, we can get Snoop Doggand Stephen Hawkings to promote it. Imagine that. You've got a singlecommercial. One stoned Snoopy-dee-loop; and one astrogenius. What a dynamicduo!
Six months post-release, we can target alcohol drinkers byreleasing SunFlare Solstice. It'll be like a Twisted Tea or mixed drink type.Girls and guys can enjoy. And when you're hitting the bars with your friends,you can talk about drinking SunFlare Solstice in such fashion: 
Friend One: What wedoin tonight? 
Friend Two: DrinkinSolstice, bruhhh 
Friend One: Sweeeeeet.Let's get flaaamed
I'll be happy to collaborate with brewing companies,chemists and marketing execs on this idea. You can find my contact info on thisblog.

Titans and Barbells

I've never been big on lifting weights. 
This might be because I have the physique of a prepubescentEthiopian boy. Or it might be because I'm afraid of showing up everybody in thegym. Haven't decided... 
One thing is for certain. Your standard gym/workout centeris teeming with gorillas. By "gorilla," I'm not using a racialepithet (completely). I refer to those people who stand before the mirrors,analyzing every swollen muscle, rotating, kissing their biceps, massaging theirfreakish veins, and generally revering themselves like fuckin god kings orsomethin. A la Jersey Shore.
This is the guy (or mustached girl) who will find the centerof the room, where all eyes will go unavoidably at one point or another. This PotatoHead will churn rep after rep. They'll deadlift and benchpress and slingboulders from their backyard in the Andes. They'll put so much pressure ontheir body, they might just explode (or implode?). 
Listen, I'm all for getting fit and lookin good. I mean, I routinelydo 20+ pushups in a row (without PEDs).But sometimes people seem to be taking it a little too far.
The strangest is those individuals who find it necessary togrunt with every exhale, that you think they're practically breathing down yourneck even when you're across the room. See, for the most part, if I ever getforced into a weight room, I find the cardio machines, or I locate the simpleweight contraptions at the corner of the room where few people can see. 
I mean, what the hell is that other stuff? Medieval torturedevices?? How am I supposed to know how to use those things? Sure, I can readthe directions, but that ain't gonna help me. I'm still gonna do it wrong andend up rippin a dorsal fin. I'd rather set the treadmill to a moderate pace andzone out to CSpan 6.But most of the time, I elect to run outside. Treadmills getme dizzy. And why the hell do I want to get dizzy?
Getting drunk is for afterthe workout.

People Peeping

I was tracing patterns on a wall one night with my urine,and I realized something.
People are really interesting.
Yea, yea, some people have great aspirations to be the nextAmerican Idol winner, or the next great MLB juice head, or the next big-shot hedge-fund manager pulling in more in a couple months than most people maketheir whole lives...
But what about those other people? The crazy, warped oneswho are oh-so very interesting for all the wrong reasons?
What about the dude who got his entire body tatted? And thengot tats on top of tats? What about tribal women who get their necks stretchedwith rings? What about those who go off into the wild and think it's a goodidea to live with grizzly bears, only to be eviscerated one morning by anespecially ornery male? And what about the guy who dreamt up the movie, TheHuman Centipede? 
What crawled into that guy's bowl of corn flakes?
It's always fun to imagine what people are thinking. Youwalk around your Walmart, take a stroll down the neighborhood; stare at peoplefrom afar in a venue. Sometimes you can pair thoughts with expressions. If somestubbly beer-bellied dude is yelling cuz his team is down in the bottom of the9th—chances are he's getting antsy for a meaty dog and a cold one.It's his only solace at that point.
 If you see a womanstaring at a mirror as she holds up a dress—she's probly wondering "shouldI go on Weight Watchers?"
If you see a sex offender sitting aside a pool with hisshades on—he's probably wondering which of the little swimmers were dropped offalone by Mommy and Daddy. 
If you see a scraggly-haired pale-faced kid standing outsidea high school at lunchtime—he's probably waiting for his 'guy' to get his'stuff.'
People watching is always fun. It's especially fun when youcatch somebody else in the act, and the two of you make eye contact, and youcan only wonder what they arewondering you are wondering. 
Makes you wonder.