Mark Tullius's Blog, page 16

Date Night at the Fights: Eddie Bravo Invitational

©2014 EBI. All Rights Reserved Photographed by Blanca Marisa Garcia

My wife and I rarely go out, maybe once a month thanks to busy work schedules and two young kids, but Sunday we dropped them off with Grandma and headed out to Hollywood. No fancy dinner, definitely no dancing. We were going to check out the Eddie Bravo Invitational.

Although Jen had been to quite a few MMA fights with me, this was the first jiu-jitsu tournament she’d been to. As nice as she could she asked, “Is this going to be boring?”

I wanted to be honest but wasn’t sure how to answer. If she’d asked me two years ago when I began Unlocking the Cage, I would have said, “Without a doubt. We’ll leave as soon as we can.” I hadn’t trained in the sport long enough to appreciate it and BJJ matches weren’t nearly as exciting to me as MMA fights.

Now that I’m training a bit, I respect and appreciate jiu-jitsu so much more, but I still wasn’t making any promises. “It’s submission only so it’ll be fast-paced. I don’t know if you’ll enjoy it, but I want to support all the guys from 10th Planet.”

“You aren’t bringing your camera?”

When you cover an event you’re supposed to be unbiased and not cheer for the guys you know and train with. “Nope, didn’t even bring my notebook. I really want to watch Geo and Boogey, those guys are sick. And I just saw Jacob Randall, a young fighter from Xtreme Couture, is competing. All very cool people.”

I’d interviewed Geovanny Martinez and his brother, Richie “Boogeyman” back in December, but I’d just listened to their interviews the day before. To kill time in traffic, I told Jen all about them, their passion for breakdancing and their impressive transition to jiu-jitsu, and MMA in Richie’s case. And even though it’d been two years since interviewing Jacob, I see all his positive posts on Facebook. “Plus, he really dug Brightside so how could I not like him.”

©2014 EBI. All Rights Reserved Photographed by Blanca Marisa Garcia

We got to the event, a matted stage set at just the right height so the spectators could see all the action. They introduced 32 men in two weight divisions and got it started with Geo up first. I pointed him out to Jen. “He’s nearly a hundred pounds lighter than me. Didn’t matter one bit when we rolled, he could submit me with whatever he wanted.”

The match started and I was surprised at the silence, everyone watching in awe as Geo and his opponent went at it. After Geo got the sub, I turned to Jen, asked her what she thought. She was hooked. “I wasn’t expecting that at all,” she said. “How graceful and smooth. And lightning quick.”

©2014 EBI. All Rights Reserved Photographed by Blanca Marisa Garcia

The next set of competitors were on the mat just moments later, the excitement ramped high. Jen would whisper questions about what guys were attempting and every once in a while I might have given her the right answer. Richie won his first fight and Jacob found himself up against Bill Cooper. “That sucks,” I told Jen. “First round and he has to battle one of the top guys in the sport.”

Photos taken by Jason Purisima for GrappleTv

Jacob surprised us and the majority of the crowd winning by arm bar. The first bracket finished and intermission began, hard music playing to keep up the energy. We grabbed a BJJ Bowl, which was absolutely delicious and hooked me on acai, then talked about how much Jen enjoyed the event. Because it was submission only set up, these guys were killing it, giving everything to get the quickest submission possible.

The second bracket was full of exciting fights, Geo, Richie, and Jacob, all coming out on top. I was bummed we had to leave before the semi-finals, but we had to get our one-year old and Jen had trial in the morning. Part of me was glad I didn’t catch Richie battling Jacob for the win, but I seriously regretted not staying to watch Geo won the 145 division by beating Jeff Glover based on time after 3 insane overtime submission attempts.

©2014 EBI. All Rights Reserved Photographed by Blanca Marisa Garcia

On the ride home we talked about the event, how Jen now had a better understanding of why I’m taking the time to train and why I enjoy interviewing these guys. And not only did my opinion change on whether or not I’d want to watch a BJJ match, but I know understood why some people would call it a fight even though there are no strikes. Whether it’s gi or no-gi, jiu-jitsu is a battle, imposing your will on another, submitting your opponent, refusing to give up, risking limbs and reputations to showcase your art. Whether or not they competed in MMA, these guys were all fighters.

For those of you who think jiu-jitsu is boring, take a few minutes and watch this trailer and check out clips on YouTube. EBI was filmed for Spanish television, but I think it would do well with any crowd. If it’s something you want to see, support this and other submission-only events. Also take a moment to support these fighters. I can’t speak for all of the competitors, but I know Geo, Richie, and Jacob are all great people making positive changes in their lives and those around them. They’re dedicating themselves in a way most people never will, always pushing to become better, to master their art. You can check out their videos below to see why I was impressed with them.

 

 

One Hell of a Record Label: Contest for Roadrunner Fans

I’ve been listening to metal for over 30 years, and there’s no doubt it’s influenced me and my writing. I began Brightside with lyrics from Machine Head’s “Davidian” and mention Fear Factory’s Fear is the Mindkiller in a later chapter. 25 Perfect Days begins with Slipknot lyrics from “All Hope is Gone” and one of the stories is named after Nailbomb’s “24 Hour Bullshit.”  It wasn’t until I was writing a blog about the music affecting my second novel, that I realized many of my favorite bands were produced by the same label: Roadrunner Records.

I checked out Roadrunner’s website to see what other albums I had of theirs and I was surprised at just how many there were. My first introduction to Roadrunner came back in the late ’80′s, Obituary, Annihilator, and King Diamond there to help me survive Catholic high school. My college years were filled with Sepultura, Malevolent Creation, and Exhorder. Machine Head became my favorite band in ’94 and I’ve purchased every album since. Fear Factory became another big favorite at this time; Soulfly not far behind them. The turn of the century brought the almighty Slipknot and Chimaira, as well as mellower bands like Stone Sour and Ill Nino when I needed to turn it down a little. Devildriver, Killswitch Engage and Trivium were other quality bands that decade. Now I always check out Roadrunner’s site to see what’s new.

98 albums total; a ton of great music. I sold off a lot of the harder albums and usually buy digitally now, but I’d say it’s still a decent collection. Send in a photo of your Roadrunner collection by June 7th and you’ll be entered in a drawing. First place will win their choice of either a $50 iTunes or Amazon gift card and a signed copy of Brightside and 25 Perfect Days. Second and third place winners will receive signed copies of both books. Contest only open to US residents. To enter simply post your photos to my Facebook page or twitter.

Thanks to all the great bands that have been a positive influence, and to Roadrunner for putting them out there.

A Fighting Chance

May 15, 2012. I was 14 days into my first Unlocking the Cage trip, just 2 more days before I could head home to my wife and young daughter. I’d already visited 13 schools in 4 states and interviewed nearly 50 MMA fighters and coaches. I was nursing a cartilage tear in my ribs, it was raining and I was exhausted. I wanted to call it a night, but I’d been told by several people along my journey that if I was going through New Jersey I had to see Eddy Rolon at Endgame Combat Sports Academy. They promised I wouldn’t be disappointed, it’d be worth the hour drive each way.

Well they were wrong, this guy was awful.

Actually he was pretty awesome, the exact type of fighter I wanted to talk with. Eddy was 39, same age as me, we started fighting in ‘98, and both of us had children. I hadn’t realized it was Eddy’s night off to be home with his family and I hated cutting into that time, but we still talked for two hours. I loved how excited he became when he discussed his Daddy and Me Boxing class and there was no doubt this guy was making a positive difference in the lives of everyone he was coming across. And who doesn’t like a guy who ends an interview by dancing on an enormous exercise ball while disco lights strobe across the darkened gym.

It was one year later that Eddy responded to my anthology invitation to write a short story based on a critical moment in his life. Eddy sent me a list. A long list. He’d been doing a lot of critical thinking about his past events because he was trying to understand why he was sick. He didn’t want the public to know but he was struggling with an unidentified complex neurological disorder that doctors just couldn’t figure out.

May 15th, 2014, I haven’t heard from Eddy in over a year. I’m a shitty friend and didn’t check in, figured I’d have heard if he had good news. J.A. Dudley, a fighter out of Eddy’s that’s been helping me out since that day I met him, sends me a link where Eddy talks about his diagnosis with Chronic Inflammatory Demyelinating Polyneuropathy (CIDP) a rare disorder of the peripheral nerves characterized by gradually increasing weakness of the legs and, to a lesser extent, the arms. Weakness occurs over two or more months and the symptoms are severe. Not only is this affecting Eddy’s personal life, but his business one as well. He’s in danger of losing the gym he’s poured his soul into and he could use a little help.

Click here to see fundraiser

Even if you don’t live close enough to support Endgame in person, I hope you’ll consider donating to the cause. You can pitch in any amount and there are prizes set for certain amounts. I’m donating a one-month membership so someone can benefit as well the gym.

After you’ve check out his link, you can listen to the interview below, but I don’t recommend watching it. I had no idea how to work the camera so the quality sucks.

Here I am holding Rosky mitts for Eddy

 

 

A Different Type of Training

I’m not known for always making the wisest decisions, and I’ve never played it very safe. I was pretty reckless as a kid, experiencing my first serious concussion when I was six. It’s impossible to count how many I’ve had since, but there have been plenty. In seven years of football, I lost consciousness at least six times. While attempting a fight career, I was knocked out twice. On another two occasions my brain was rattled so badly that I completely lost 15 minutes of time, and there were a ridiculous number of times where I left the gym with a moderate concussion. There was a period while boxing where I was constantly slurring my words and reversing their order. Add a few motorcycle accidents to the mix, and it’s amazing I can write my own name, let alone a novel.

Click here to watch the short film for info on my MMA project.

Eight years had gone by since my last concussion when I decided to jump back into the world of mixed martial arts (MMA) for my book and sociological study, Unlocking the Cage. Out of shape and unskilled, I began taking unnecessary blows to the head. My competitive side had reemerged, and, at 41, I even considered taking a fight. Like I said, I’m not known for making the wisest decisions.

I hadn’t given much thought to brain injuries until my friend pointed it out; he said I was nuts jumping into sparring with guys half my age. Although part of me knew taking punches probably wasn’t the healthiest thing I could be doing, I’d never taken the time to do the research. Turns out, the previous brain trauma makes me a prime candidate for dementia. That was not part of my plan for the future.

Because I want to write until the day I die, and spend quality time with my family, I immediately stopped sparring and began training jiu-jitsu at 10th Planet. Even though I had eliminated taking strikes the head, and despite the fact that jiu-jitsu was working my brain in a new way, I still felt pretty sluggish. Now that I was paying attention to my brain, I realized I wasn’t as sharp as I used to be and that I have the memory of amnesiac. I hoped it was simply due to getting older and not to the brain trauma, but either way, it was still pretty depressing.

One day I was listening to Joe Rogan’s podcast when he was plugging Lumosity, a brain-training website. It sounded interesting, but what really sold me was that I could compare myself to others my age. I’d be able to see just how much damage I’d done.

I did the initial testing and was disheartened. My Brain Performance Index (BPI) was embarrassingly low, and if it was a school test, I’d have failed. I was tempted to stop playing, but there was one section where I scored adequately. My Problem Solving score was nearly twice that of the 5 other categories; nearly four times my Memory score. I played a few more Problem Solving games, watched my scores start to rise, and my competitive nature kicked in.

Thanks to my addictive personality, I did my brain training on a daily basis instead of the suggested 3-5 times per week. Instead of only focusing on my strengths, I spent more time on my weaknesses, determined to raise my overall score and get into the higher percentiles. It wasn’t long before I noticed a definite improvement in my thinking. It was clearer and sharper; it felt like a bit of the fog had been lifted. Surprised with my results, I researched the science behind brain Lumosity, and how brain training can slow or prevent early dementia.

I believe that regular exercise with jiu-jitsu, combined with supplements from Onnit, added to my progress and clearer thinking, but the daily mental stimulation was the key ingredient. Although my scores have plateaued, and I have yet to hit the elusive 99.9%, I’ll continue to play. I will also encourage my kids to do so.

I spent too much of my life risking the most important tool I had. I’m not taking it for granted anymore, and I will do whatever I can to keep it functioning. Whether you’re worried about dementia, or you simply want to improve your athletic performance, thinking, or overall life, brain training can make a big difference. I do believe there should be a disclaimer on Lumosity’s website stating that the process can be highly addicting. If you’re a perfectionist like me, you may spend entirely too much trying to break your own high scores. You may also find yourself forming 10 letter words that start with mu as you’re driving down the freeway.

Be sure to check out this article from Ben Greenfield for other great tips on how to increase your brain power.

D is for Demented Hypocrite.

The author at 11 months old.

Hey, Jake here. Sorry it’s been so long since I’ve been able to get on the blog, but my old man has been doing a much better job of keeping the computer from me since he saw my last post. There’s no telling how long he’ll be upstairs shoving clothes in drawers instead of folding them so they can have that lived-in look. I better get to it.

Those of you who have read my dad’s fiction might suspect that he has a thing for freedom. Anyone who has read his blog knows that’s true. In Brightside telepaths are rounded up and imprisoned, a statement about Guantanamo Bay, Japanese internment camps and the NDAA. 25 Perfect Days and 5 More Perfect Days go even deeper with false flags, drone strikes, government spying, and all kinds of crazy stuff. On Facebook, Dad’s always bitching about police brutality, the destruction of our civil liberties. What a joke. My Dad’s the biggest control freak, a hypocrite who most certainly does not practice what he preaches.

His stance against indefinite detention without trial is ridiculous when you consider what he does to me. When was the last time I had a trial? He locks me behind gates, keeps me from exploring, and whenever he feels like it he just picks me up, takes me away. He detains me, restrains me, never lets me do what I want. He straps me into the highchair, straps me into the car seat, straps me into the stroller. My screams fall on deaf ears, he does not care.

When it comes to torture, the true hypocrite comes out. It’s been banned for 5 years and he still cries about waterboarding, says it’s not right to treat anyone like that. He’s quick to point out that torture hasn’t resulted in any true confessions, that a government that condones such behavior is worse than the terrorist acts they claim they’re trying to prevent and that the torture will only encourage more.

Pretty strong claims for someone who practices babyboarding. Why the hell is that okay? I don’t know if you’ve seen it before, but it’s not pleasant. They pick you up and slam you onto this table, strap you down. Sometimes he’s by himself, sometimes with Mommy. I scream, I cry, but they don’t stop. They tell me to shush, to be quiet, to stop being a crybaby. They laugh at me and strip me down, rub cold, wet wipes all over my supposedly-private parts. I wish that was it, but there’s always more. Sometimes they’ll rub at my face, other times shove fingers up my nose, in my mouth, poking at ultra-sensitive gums where teeth are ripping through.

It’s not just the torture and detainment that must stop. It’s the spying. Dad says it’s disgusting that a country would waste such an outrageous amount of taxpayers’ money to spy on those same taxpayers, producing no results, no terrorists. He’s always talking about how the TV, the laptop, all of our phones. They all watch us, record us, make sure we do no wrong. Even when they’re turned off. Won’t be long until all smart appliances are doing it. Edward Snowden is his hero.

Then one day I’m lying in my prison called crib and what do I see. A camera. This son of a bitch has been spying on me from day one. The hardest part for me to swallow is that it’s not just him, Mommy’s in on it too. The monitor was on her nightstand and the last time I snatched her phone I saw the app. There on her screen, clear as day, is my holding cell. These sick bastards watch me while I sleep, without a blanket because they’re probably worried I’ll go all Guantanamo and take my life. I can’t crawl and hide in a corner, I can’t cover myself. I have no privacy.

I don’t know what the answer to any of this is, I just had to get it off my chest. Maybe Dad has some good points, maybe some of his complaining is valid, but until he stops being such a hypocrite, I’m not listening to a word he says. Unless he sings that song and tells me to stomp my feet if I’m angry. I can do that.

Because look what else that bastard does to me. It was 90 degrees out but he insisted I make an appearance as Gimli.

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Why I Train at 10th Planet

When I first stopped by 10th Planet Jiu Jitsu Burbank late 2012, I was mainly focused on MMA and didn’t care much about jiu-jitsu. Several fighters that I’d interviewed for my sociological study had strongly recommended that I talk with Eddie Bravo and take at least one of his classes, but I didn’t understand what the big deal was. I’m glad I listened to them though because after spending a couple days there, I was convinced MMA can be incredible for children and if I lived closer to the studio, that is definitely where both my daughter and I would train.

Life went on and I continued my travels around the country trying to understand who MMA fighters are and why they fight. After visiting a hundred gyms and interviewing close to 400 fighters, I felt I had a much better understanding, but I still had much more to learn. When I stopped by Brown University to discuss my project with Professor Michael Kennedy who teaches the Sociology of Martial Arts, he pointed out the importance of comparing fighters to a similar group such as wrestlers.

Black belt Jared Carlsten who will be one of the featured fighters in the Unlocking the Cage documentary

I decided I would compare them to competitive jiu-jitsu players as many fighters first get bit by the fighting bug when training jitz. Plus, I was finally appreciating jiu-jitsu as an art instead of a tool and I wanted to begin seriously training for the first time in my life. I considered just dropping in at the fighting academies and jumping into their BJJ classes, but I realized I wouldn’t retain much. I needed one system, one instructor, and to be surrounded by positive people.

As an author and a stay-at-home dad with a baby boy and girl in kindergarten, my time to train is very limited. The closer I trained to home, the more time I’d have and the likelier I’d actually make it to the gym. I checked out Gracie-Barra three blocks from my house and although I’m sure they have quality instructors and students, they only train no-gi once a week. No thanks.

Everyone has their own preferences when it comes to training with a gi and I’ve had many convincing discussions with fighters, jiu-jitsu black belts and coaches both for and against training in the gi being useful for fighting. The good thing is that I’m 41 and will never fight again. I can do whatever I want and I’m not about to waste a moment training something I despise.

Despite the 45 minute drive, I headed to TapOut Training Center in Los Angeles to check out 10th Planet Headquarters. Again I was blown away by the skill and knowledge of everyone I rolled with. I’m a crappy white belt, but I’ve rolled with more people in the last two years than most and have become fairly decent at judging the ability of those destroying me.

After my second class at 10th Planet, instead of training for free at any of the numerous gyms around me, I decided to pay for a 6 month membership. Not only is the skill level ridiculous at HQ, but I truly dig the way Eddie teaches class and the talks beforehand. He’s incredibly positive and humble, signs of a true martial artist, a family man who values being a husband and father, and he’s a freethinker, not just about jiu-jitsu, but all aspects of life. Anyone who questions the status quo and doesn’t simply accept what accept what the mainstream tells them has my respect.

The more time I spent at HQ, getting smashed by everyone I come across, the more I appreciate the system and see how great it translates to MMA. I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve said I wished this system had been around 15 years ago when I was trying to fight. And in case there’s anyone out there that still thinks the 10th Planet system can’t stand up against traditional BJJ then you should check results of local submission tournaments and watch the incredible performance Eddie had at Metamoris 3 against Royler Gracie.

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Not only was it a great demonstration of why the system works, but I enjoyed the lead up to it. It was inspiring to watch a guy in his forties dedicate several months to hardcore training all while continuing to teach classes, stay tight with his family, and put out his podcast. Definitely a good reminder for me that there’s no limit to what a person can do.

After having visited seven 10th Planet schools, interviewing owners, students, and fighters, I’m completely sold on the system and glad to be a small part of this ever-growing monster. There’s no telling how long I’ll continue to train, but as long as I do, it’ll be at a 10th Planet.

Back in December, Eddie was incredibly cool to have me on his podcast. I learned a hell of a lot about the JFK assassination, and enjoyed talking about martial arts and the difference between fighters and jiu-jitsu players (Starting around the 2 hour and 50 minute mark.) Eddie Bravo Radio Episode 42

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Click to watch EBR episode 42

 

 

 

D isn’t for Daddy

Duh, Duh, Duh. That’s all My Old Man hears me say. He thinks I’m saying Daddy even though Mommy made it quite clear it’s just the first sound babies make. What I’m really trying to say is Dummy. What the hell’s this guy thinking?

If you’re not one of the few that actually reads his blog, you probably didn’t see The Day We Fight Back Through Fiction. It was some paranoid nonsense about the NSA but I didn’t say crap about it, hoped he was just marketing to the conspiracy nuts, pretending he’s a teenager wanting to fight the power.

But then yesterday, he takes me downstairs, plops me in the highchair, straps me in and locks the tray. He starts dropping the tiniest little scraps of food all over the plate, makes me go scrunch them up in my hands, mash them all together. Got to love that cheddar-avocado-organic junk combo. Couldn’t even put it in a bowl for me. How about a napkin?

And that’s when I see it, his lap top opened to his blog Help Me Fight the Freedom of the Press. What? I pointed, tried to ask if he was serious, if he’d already published it. He told me to stop crying like a little baby. I can’t wait until I’m big enough to kick him.

After breakfast he kind of cleans me off, but it’s just more of a shake, figures Luke, our dog, will get the rest. He goes and does dishes, the penalty he pays for not having to work. I sneak over to the computer, read the post. Oh man. Him and I have problems.

Number one, the dummy’s giving away money. He’s always bitching about taxes being theft, but there he goes throwing away income. He’s already made the Freedom of the Press Foundation a whole $12 in 2 days. Instead of buying me a cool toy, he just paid for a board member’s lunch at McDonald’s.

Number two probably isn’t what you’re thinking. Yes, I think he’s a dummy for stirring up trouble where none is needed, that you shouldn’t stick your finger up a bear’s butt to see if it’ll bite you. But D isn’t for Dummy either. It’s for Demented Hypocrite.

Crap, I hear him coming. Got to go. More on the hypocrite tomorrow.

Help Me Fight the Freedom of the Press

It’s been a year since I finished writing my dystopian novel, 25 Perfect Days, so when I decided to write an additional five stories, I couldn’t wait to explore this fictional world with fresh eyes, to see new possibilities and discover more characters. The story ideas came quickly – drones killing citizens without trials, whistleblowers hunted down by colleagues, homosexuals rounded up, false flags, and plenty of propaganda. Pure fiction, pure entertainment.

Then an early reader told me everything I was writing about in 5 More Perfect Days was already happening in some part of the world. I called her a conspiracy nut and de-friended her. She sent me links to a dozen articles. I told her to stop talking to me and turned off my Internet. I went to bed confident she was a whack-job trying to undercut me by claiming I was a hack. Then she took it to an entirely unacceptable level by bringing in the New York Times and The Wall Street Journal, both with headlines about drone strikes.

These so-called “journalists” weren’t just spreading these lies; they were ruining my novella. I write fiction so people can have fun pretending bad things happen to good men and women. These “journalists” were claiming the stories were actually true. Okay, let’s say they are. Do we really need to know about it? When I’m eating Cheerios in the morning, I don’t need to read about missiles blowing up children or coups or war crimes. I don’t want to think about my morning news show actually trying to control my every thought. Matt Lauer loves me. I know this because he said it once on the air.

How do these “true” stories even make it to air? What if my kids are watching TV or actually reading? Shouldn’t DHS be spewing disinformation to squash unflattering angles? Why aren’t we heeding General Keith Alexander’s warnings and rushing his legislation through Congress to stop these media leaks and prosecute the “journalists?” And who are these so-called “news reporters?” And where are their editors? Like say from the NSA? Let’s keep it simple. Let’s stop with the various competing opinions and have just one official story. There’d be less discomfort, and I could enjoy my cereal.

But how do we make this happen? Who is responsible for letting all these “journalists” and “newsmen” run wild with their “facts?” I did a little research and stumbled upon a huge part of the problem: the Freedom of the Press Foundation. FPF is a non-profit agency that supports everything we need suppressed. One look at their mission statement and it’s clear these lunatics actually believe citizens should be “informed.” They even claim to be “dedicated to helping support and defend public-interest journalism focused on exposing mismanagement, corruption, and law-breaking in government.”

Ha! First, everyone knows that “mismanagement” and “corruption” can never be used in the same sentence with “government.” It’s an oxymoron. Maybe there’s an occasional screw up, but that’s bound to happen with any organization. Second, the public isn’t interested in exposing anything, unless it’s a celebrity’s genitals. Otherwise, we don’t need to see it. If the NSA, CIA, and every other acronym aren’t a mystery, then how are they going to keep us safe?

Feed me some Bieber or a Kardashian; I watch TV to feel better about me, not to unearth the guilt, anger, and frustration I’ve been burying in my soul with beer and Internet porn.

It’s time to fight back against the Freedom of the Press Foundation. How? you ask. We distract them from their mission and buy them off. I considered contacting them, asking how much it would take for them to lay off of certain topics which might appear in one of my future novels, but I realized, even if they agreed, I couldn’t trust them. Turns out they’re a safe haven for “whistleblowers,” and we all know that’s a synonym for “traitor.” But you know what? I don’t need to know the exact amount it’ll take to shut these guys up. I figure if we just keep throwing money at them, eventually they’ll get too fat and lazy to continue with this pointless cause for “justice.”

I’m putting my money where my mouth is. Your money, too. Since 5 More Perfect Days has been ruined by these zealots and their “truth,” I don’t want anything to do with the profits. I’m donating all the eBook proceeds to FPF, in hopes we can finally buy some silence. We’re 46th in the world now for freedom of the press, but with a little cash and some gumption, I know we can finally slip out of the top 100.

Please join me in my fight; consider a small tax-deductible donation in addition to the astronomical 30 or so cents per download they’ll get from 5 More Perfect Days. We can do this. Let’s keep our days sunny and bright, and let me get back to believing my work is fiction.

Email mary@vincerepress.com a receipt for a  donation to the FPF of $50 or more and you’re welcome to a free copy of all my eBooks for life. Thank you for supporting a worthwhile organization.

 

Diary of a Badass Baby

I know this might be hard for some people to believe, but I’m only 9 months old. Sometimes people take me for 10 or 11, but none of them would guess I could write. I’m not saying I’m the best, but I can string some words together. And by ‘write’ I mean ‘talk.’ You know how long it’d take me to crawl across the keyboard? I’d probably short it out with drool. Nah, I got me this pretty cool app, only problem is there’s no editing. Not with these thumbs. I pick up 5 puffs hoping one gets in my mouth. But man it’s worth it, those things are yummy.

So yeah, like I was saying, stream of consciousness. I’m gonna pee my words all over this place, the margins of the page my diaper. It feels so good to let it flow.

Let me guess, you’re one of those people. Why should a baby get his own blog? Well, My Old Man hardly uses this thing and I’m his only son. I didn’t bother asking him if I could, but I’ve heard it’s easier to ask for forgiveness than permission. Plus, he’s always telling everyone to follow their dreams.

Maybe he’ll be mad, but what’s he gonna do? He’s already sworn that he’ll never spank us. Thank you non-aggression principle. But I do worry. A lot of My Old Man’s friends wonder how am I going to ever respect and listen to him if I don’t fear him. What if M.O.M. listens to one of them and busts out his belt? Maybe some of you can send them Stefan Molyneux videos so they’ll keep their big mouths shut and don’t ruin a good thing.

10th Planet Black Belt Jared Carlsten

At first I didn’t get why M.O.M. was so against hitting, especially when he’s writing a book on it. But then I heard him talking about his latest realization that he gets beat up by everybody. He’s calling himself the Most Submitted Man in America. Been tapped out by more people in the last year than anyone else. He’s even talking about looking to see if there’s a Guinness world record for it. Go Dad, I can’t tell you how proud I am. Seriously, I can’t. Maybe one day I’ll break your record and get my ass kicked all across the world. Got to have goals.

But back to this blog, why I need to do this. It’s because M.O.M. doesn’t listen to me, doesn’t hear what I’m saying. It drives me nuts. He’s always off on his own little island, I’m just saying blah, blah, blah. He tells his friends that while he’s holding me. Says I’m always babbling. Oh, don’t worry about me, no complex developing here.

Where the hell was I? Oh, and don’t start me on the language. We were just at Grandmom’s and got the talk about the use of “bad words.” I like the way she says that, she makes them sound like a magical wand that makes prudes disappear. I don’t think she was too happy with M.O.M. telling the world I know both The F-Word and The Other F-Word. Teachers are going to love me in preschool.

Oh yeah, the blog. So this is how I’ll try to reach him, get him to see things my way. Like maybe he should think things through before he posts photos. And if nothing else,I’m crossing my fingers that he’ll shave around his nipples.

The Other F-Word

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In my post, The F-Word, I discussed how my wife and I talked with our daughter about “bad words,” the F-word in particular. Olivia was curious so we explained, hopefully took away the word’s power and forbidden attraction.

Now, I’m waiting for Olivia to ask if she can read my books. We can’t use the “inappropriate language” excuse anymore. It’s not that my novels are filled with swearing, but that was an easier explanation than “Daddy kills a bunch of people in his books.”

The cursing is still an issue, but I’ve made gains in not using the F-word in my fiction. I went from 108 fucks in Brightside to giving only 1 fuck per story in 25 Perfect Days. Somehow I managed without any in Try Not to Die. But while all the F-word talk was going on, I was deep into 5 More Perfect Days, polishing the second story, “30-Day Program.”

Three paragraphs in and the main character lets loose with a fuck. I looked at it closely, thought the word deserved to stay, but it wasn’t that F-word that was bothering me. It was the second:

Faggot.

Fucking faggot.

You can taste the hate in that word.

How’d you say it right now, how’d it make you feel? Say it out loud. Did you spit it out like something vile in your mouth? Were you offended? Should that word be banned?

I never imagined that word would find its way into my fiction, but I left it on the page after I read a letter from Don Currie, who wrote to me after enjoying 25 Perfect Days and my blog, Confessions of a Homophobe where I detail my journey. Here’s part of Don’s message:

I was fag bashed in my early 20′s and have the scars, both inside and out, to remind me of that horrible time. I was attacked and kicked in the head and body by feet wearing heavy boots….a lot! Due to the injuries to my head and brain, they were not able to administer pain medication or anesthesia while they repaired my eye that had been torn into multiple pieces. I lay on the operating table for the 3 hour microsurgery while the ophthalmologist used a microscope to sew up the multitude of tears to my upper and lower lids. The needle came straight down at my eye time after time, and I could do nothing but watch it. My head hurt, my body ached, my brain swelled. The whole time, I wondered why. The whole time I asked myself what could make someone hate me so much just for being who I am, for who I loved. The fractured skull has healed and the broken ribs, and the swelling to my brain, but the scars on my eye remain. Most people say they can’t notice unless I tell them, but I know it’s there. Some days it makes me sad, but mostly it is a reminder to me that I can endure lots of things, and I will not give up. It’s also a reminder that there are people who hate me and others like me for no real reason, just because they do, but I will survive.

This was hard for me to read. Don and I talked about how little things have changed, that beatings like this are still commonplace. We talked about Russia and the direction they’re headed, how they enacted a law prohibiting any positive mention of homosexuality. How there are 76 countries with anti-gay laws as bad as or worse than Russia’s.

America’s not on that list, but not for a lack of trying. The federal law banning gay marriage was only recently lifted, and even though sodomy laws have been invalidated for 10 years there are still arrests. The recent legislation brought up in Kansas and the law that was just passed in Arizona make me wonder if the only reason why my short story, “30-Day Program,” should be classified as science fiction is because it’s set in 2048.

I guess we’ll see which way things go, if these types of laws will continue to gain momentum or if they’re the last flailing efforts of desperate individuals. After you read the story I hope you’ll take a second to answer a few questions, cast your vote on whether or not a 30-Day Program should one day become reality.

Free Short Story

If you are on Facebook you can answer the survey by clicking here or email your answer to info@marktullius.com

How would you vote if your country wanted to enact its own 30-Day program?

What is your age?

13-19

20-34

35-49

50 and up

What is your gender?

Male

Female

Other

Do you identify as LGBT?

Yes

No

Would you vote to enact your country’s 30-Day program where homosexuals were sent to retraining centers?

Yes

No

Sincere thanks to Don Currie for the inspiration, to Matte Zovich and Todd Barselow for their input early on, and to Anthony Szpak for all his help developing the story.