Jay Royston's Blog, page 8
October 25, 2017
Breaking Dad 1
Baby Dragons.
Netflix had been on long enough. I told my eight year old daughter to shut off her show that long ago stopped teaching how to train your dragon and do something else. In her typical child-like summer boredom, she said there was nothing else to do.
“Fine,” I said, in full-on Dad mode. “I’d like you to go to your room and write a story.”
To make this part short, she went to her room and found something else to do as I made dinner.Over some classic Dad cooking, I asked if she wanted to do anything for her day camp talent show happening the next day. She said her talent was going to be ‘audience participant’ and simply sit and watch the other kids perform.
I asked how her story was going and she said she didn’t have any ideas for one so she had played with her dragons.
“I have an idea,” I prompted, “what about a story about how one of your dragons tried to bite off your Dad’s foot which is why I am in this cast?”
She looked at me funny, mainly because she knew I really sprained my ankle in a freak trampoline fight accident with a ball that more safety-conscious Dads would probably have said "get that off there before someone gets hurt.".
“Uh, I don’t think so,” she said in the same voice her mother would use, “you stepped on a ball.”
“Well, I want to read your story before bedtime, so you better get on it.”
At bedtime, I hobbled into her room and read her short story. It was good; there was a beginning, middle and end. It was about dragons but no mention of me or my ankle cast. I could live with that.
“You know,” I said, as an idea came to me along with the thought I may be the greatest Dad in the world “you could read this to your day camp for the talent show.”
“I can’t do that, Dad,” she said, shaking her head. “Writing isn’t a talent.”
I went immediate poker face. We all know kids have this way of really cutting deep into someone’s psyche, but they can hide their social rudeness behind their age and innocence. “How come you are so fat?” I’ve heard younger children ask, “Why are you so old?” another question to a relative. It happens.
Writing isn’t a talent?
I saw her side; talent shows tend to focus on active performances; singing, dancing, gymnastics. There aren’t many popular shows for the many other sides of culture; writing, drawing, painting. I believe my daughter has lots of talents. Parents should notice the natural talents their children have and encourage it.
“Writing is a talent,” I told her, trying to hide the hurt in my thoughts because I am obviously biased. “Creating is a talent. I’m sure a lot of kids would like to hear your story. And you know what? I bet it would make some of them want to write their own as well.”
I wish I could end this story with how I wanted it to end. I want to say she went to that Talent Show, stood up in front of her classmates after they sang and danced. I wished I could say she told her simple story of a dragon bullied by other dragons until she was helped by a girl who made her brave enough to scare away the other dragons.
But she didn’t stand up and read that story for her talent show.
Maybe next time she will. All I can do as a father is to remind her anything she creates is a talent be it writing, painting, or building.
It doesn’t have to be what all the other dragons are doing.
Netflix had been on long enough. I told my eight year old daughter to shut off her show that long ago stopped teaching how to train your dragon and do something else. In her typical child-like summer boredom, she said there was nothing else to do.
“Fine,” I said, in full-on Dad mode. “I’d like you to go to your room and write a story.”
To make this part short, she went to her room and found something else to do as I made dinner.Over some classic Dad cooking, I asked if she wanted to do anything for her day camp talent show happening the next day. She said her talent was going to be ‘audience participant’ and simply sit and watch the other kids perform.
I asked how her story was going and she said she didn’t have any ideas for one so she had played with her dragons.
“I have an idea,” I prompted, “what about a story about how one of your dragons tried to bite off your Dad’s foot which is why I am in this cast?”
She looked at me funny, mainly because she knew I really sprained my ankle in a freak trampoline fight accident with a ball that more safety-conscious Dads would probably have said "get that off there before someone gets hurt.".
“Uh, I don’t think so,” she said in the same voice her mother would use, “you stepped on a ball.”
“Well, I want to read your story before bedtime, so you better get on it.”
At bedtime, I hobbled into her room and read her short story. It was good; there was a beginning, middle and end. It was about dragons but no mention of me or my ankle cast. I could live with that.
“You know,” I said, as an idea came to me along with the thought I may be the greatest Dad in the world “you could read this to your day camp for the talent show.”
“I can’t do that, Dad,” she said, shaking her head. “Writing isn’t a talent.”
I went immediate poker face. We all know kids have this way of really cutting deep into someone’s psyche, but they can hide their social rudeness behind their age and innocence. “How come you are so fat?” I’ve heard younger children ask, “Why are you so old?” another question to a relative. It happens.
Writing isn’t a talent?
I saw her side; talent shows tend to focus on active performances; singing, dancing, gymnastics. There aren’t many popular shows for the many other sides of culture; writing, drawing, painting. I believe my daughter has lots of talents. Parents should notice the natural talents their children have and encourage it.
“Writing is a talent,” I told her, trying to hide the hurt in my thoughts because I am obviously biased. “Creating is a talent. I’m sure a lot of kids would like to hear your story. And you know what? I bet it would make some of them want to write their own as well.”
I wish I could end this story with how I wanted it to end. I want to say she went to that Talent Show, stood up in front of her classmates after they sang and danced. I wished I could say she told her simple story of a dragon bullied by other dragons until she was helped by a girl who made her brave enough to scare away the other dragons.
But she didn’t stand up and read that story for her talent show.
Maybe next time she will. All I can do as a father is to remind her anything she creates is a talent be it writing, painting, or building.
It doesn’t have to be what all the other dragons are doing.
July 12, 2017
Shitty working title or the relevance of irrelevant things happening to you.
Shitty working title in progress but not going much further than this...
This is just a reminder of 2 odd things that happened laterly referring - the Motherboy Incident and the USS Indianopolis.
Motherboy
I'm in a funk, I'm thinking i will watch some AD, -go for some tried and true comedy instead of attempting to go down the Netflix rabbit hole of potential 'funny' shows I have or haven't heard about. I'm thinking maybe I should watch Motherboy (my own mother/son issues perhaps?) I don't know. But later, in front of Netflix I change my mind. I randomly pick an episode of something called Lady Dyanmite, starring Maria Bamford, who played the sketchy addict in AD season 4. I notice that it was executive produced by Mitch Hurwitz, creator of AD. Good start, I think.
The episode is called I Love You. In it there is a scene in a record store and i'm not really listening to much to the dialogue, drifting off in my own self-loathing thoughts when I notice behind Maria's friend is a poster of MOTHERBOY!! I'm like 'holy shit!'
I take it as a sign - I need to watch Motherboy. Perhaps there's some message in there I am meant to hear/take away. So I decide to immediately stop LD and switch to AD. Also somewhat of a surprise is that Motherboy is already queued up. Ok, maybe last time i was binge-watching AD (many months ago) I stopped at Motherboy and simply forgot that was the next one i was set to watch. Whatever.
I watch Motherboy, not having any epiphany to help me out of my current state. I go back, finish Lady Dynamite. Near the end, she has a breakdown (she's always on the edge of a breakdown it appears) and she starts yelling "I'M A MONSTER" which strikes me that is also what Buster screams in Motherboy.
I'm now worried that was supposed to be my epiphany; I'm a Monster. Or is it the sheer idiocy of the circumstances; Buster and Maria are nothing close to being monsters in the true sense but yet that is what they consider themselves. Is that also what I feel/think?
The USS Indianopolis Incident.
I'm at the beach with my client (care aide for someone with a mental disability who is under a 24/7 court-ordered supervision. We go to the beach. I tell him of my fear of fish nibbling my toes as I swim, which leads to my recollection of a US Navy ship which sunk in WW2 and all the crewmen who survived basically floated in shark-infested waters for a month or so before being rescued. I couldn't recall the name of the ship at the time, thinking it was the USS Missouri.
Next day, I'm again on Netflix and there is a Nicholas Cage movie staring at me; the USS Indianopolis. 'that's the boat' I think, 'what a coincidence i was just talking about that'. Cue to today where I am again sitting in front of Lady Dynamite, deciding to give it another go after the Motherboy thing.
At the end of this one, for reasons not related to the actual episode there is a character doing a voice over for a animation piece. The joke is it is a song a shark is singing, about how he only eats 'seamen'. In the ocean around him there are a bunch of sailors, looking panicked. The shark starts eating them. In the background there is a poorly drawn ship - the USS Indianopolis.
That is all.
This is just a reminder of 2 odd things that happened laterly referring - the Motherboy Incident and the USS Indianopolis.
Motherboy
I'm in a funk, I'm thinking i will watch some AD, -go for some tried and true comedy instead of attempting to go down the Netflix rabbit hole of potential 'funny' shows I have or haven't heard about. I'm thinking maybe I should watch Motherboy (my own mother/son issues perhaps?) I don't know. But later, in front of Netflix I change my mind. I randomly pick an episode of something called Lady Dyanmite, starring Maria Bamford, who played the sketchy addict in AD season 4. I notice that it was executive produced by Mitch Hurwitz, creator of AD. Good start, I think.
The episode is called I Love You. In it there is a scene in a record store and i'm not really listening to much to the dialogue, drifting off in my own self-loathing thoughts when I notice behind Maria's friend is a poster of MOTHERBOY!! I'm like 'holy shit!'
I take it as a sign - I need to watch Motherboy. Perhaps there's some message in there I am meant to hear/take away. So I decide to immediately stop LD and switch to AD. Also somewhat of a surprise is that Motherboy is already queued up. Ok, maybe last time i was binge-watching AD (many months ago) I stopped at Motherboy and simply forgot that was the next one i was set to watch. Whatever.
I watch Motherboy, not having any epiphany to help me out of my current state. I go back, finish Lady Dynamite. Near the end, she has a breakdown (she's always on the edge of a breakdown it appears) and she starts yelling "I'M A MONSTER" which strikes me that is also what Buster screams in Motherboy.
I'm now worried that was supposed to be my epiphany; I'm a Monster. Or is it the sheer idiocy of the circumstances; Buster and Maria are nothing close to being monsters in the true sense but yet that is what they consider themselves. Is that also what I feel/think?
The USS Indianopolis Incident.
I'm at the beach with my client (care aide for someone with a mental disability who is under a 24/7 court-ordered supervision. We go to the beach. I tell him of my fear of fish nibbling my toes as I swim, which leads to my recollection of a US Navy ship which sunk in WW2 and all the crewmen who survived basically floated in shark-infested waters for a month or so before being rescued. I couldn't recall the name of the ship at the time, thinking it was the USS Missouri.
Next day, I'm again on Netflix and there is a Nicholas Cage movie staring at me; the USS Indianopolis. 'that's the boat' I think, 'what a coincidence i was just talking about that'. Cue to today where I am again sitting in front of Lady Dynamite, deciding to give it another go after the Motherboy thing.
At the end of this one, for reasons not related to the actual episode there is a character doing a voice over for a animation piece. The joke is it is a song a shark is singing, about how he only eats 'seamen'. In the ocean around him there are a bunch of sailors, looking panicked. The shark starts eating them. In the background there is a poorly drawn ship - the USS Indianopolis.
That is all.
June 5, 2017
Getting old with Weezer
First, I’ve never written a concert review before. In fact, I hardly have ever read them. The gist of them seems simple enough, so I’m going to try one.
One thing I think most published reviewers don’t talk about is the $ factor; after all, they don’t have to pay for the tickets. I once went to a Leslie Nielson play about Clarence Darrow. All I had to do was call up the ticket office, told them I was writing for a magazine and they left a free ticket at the pick up window for me. The show was great (to me) because the only other thing I was going to be able to do that night for free was go for a walk. So I think most reviews should begin with the reviewer stating how much (or if) they paid for the ticket.
My opinion (and I believe yours) of any show would change vastly if I paid nothing for it versus if I paid $100 for it. If I paid $500 for a ticket, I’d be expecting to get a ride home by one of the band members but that’s neither here nor there. So with that caveat, my beautiful wife bought us tickets for Weezer as a Valentine’s Day gift. We had a rule about not buying presents on Valentine’s but she broke it and spent $77 and that’s another different topic altogether. To the show!
It started with the Flatliners, a decent opening band to the opening band. My only memorable thoughts were their logo (an angry looking wolf head with tongue hanging out, pierced by two diagonal swords) could have used some work. Was it a live wolf? Is that why it looked so angry? Was it supposed to be dead or did the band really just like Game of Thrones? I had no idea. They were good but they also got me thinking they needed something to tie them more together; something like the Beatles in their 3 piece suits. Or even just hats or matching T-shirts. I don’t know, something to make them seem just a bit more than a garage band who won a contest to open for Weezer.
They all wore other band's T-shirts which made them legit
Googling Trews and hats gave me this. Piano player missing. Then it was The Trews turn and we must have some telepathic link as four out of five of them were wearing hats! The Trews are from Nova Scotia and there was some name recognition there. I remembered some songs when I heard them couldn’t name them. My wife knew a few more than me. They also had a tambourine/piano man which brought up another recent conversation I had about how tambourines don’t get enough credit.
Non sequitor part of review; I once had a dream of walking into a gun store and walking out with a tambourine. Those two stories don’t really connect, other than perhaps it’s a lesson that instead of buying a gun when you are angry or depressed, you should consider getting a tambourine.
One song of theirs in particular blew my mind; Paranoid Freak. It was the best song I heard all night, with a groovy little piano hook that really accented why they were wearing fedoras. I can't really explain why I loved it so much but seriously, I knew when I was home I was going to be looking it up on Youtube. Sadly, the song was way better live than the official video which happens to star that guy you can’t quite place but know from somewhere (answer - Rogers commercials). The Trews ended with a thank you to Weezer and they disappeared to be replaced by the stage crew who dismantled their drum set and moved speakers, just as they did for the Flatliners before them.
Now for the main act; Weezer! First, I have to say it was funny to see that as the night wore on, the drummer’s kits kept getting higher. By the time Weezer came on, their drummer was 1/2 way to the rafters and had to climb a set of steps to get to his kit.
Then the lights dimmed. The cheering started. Time to settle our big question; What was the first song going to be? Answer...
Hash Pipe. It was simply awesome. The chugging guitar riff, the crowd cheering, dancing and singing along with the 'Whoa ooh'. Everyone was in harmony, in the moment, yelling for our Hash Pipes. Then that was followed by My Name is Jonas, another fun sing-a-long. River Cuomo was wearing a yellow sweater so you knew The Sweater Song was also going to be played eventually. By the way, he’s a fairly short guy (5'6"). Not that it matters but it was interesting nonetheless; videos keep everyone pretty uniformly the same size. He didn’t interact at all with the audience, unlike the first two bands who kept yelling out Penticton! as a cue for the house lights to turn on and for us to yell back ‘woooooo!’. The long-haired Weezer guitarist did request for someone to shut off a TV in the back that was within his eyeline. He called it quite rude and made him feel like he was playing in a bar. 99% of us had no idea what or who he was talking to. The only TVs we could see were the ones above the concessions.
Most of their concert consisted of the Blue Album (sadly missing was ‘In My Garage’, another personal favourite) with their well-known radio hits (Island in the Sun, Hash Pipe, Pork and Beans and Beverly Hills) but I don’t recall any from the Red album, which sucked for me but I get it; stick to the well. There was a medley of songs in the middle and then they left the stage without playing Buddy Holly so we all knew that was going to be their final song of the night.
Now, I hate encores. When I first started going to concerts, I honestly believed it was through the power of our cheering which brought them back on for a few more songs. Now, it's so scripted there is no point in being the middle man; if the house lights don't come on, they're coming back. I recall a Collective Soul concert where they had three encores, not because they were exceptionally great, only because nobody turned on the house lights so we could leave. I believe it’s a large Pavlovian experiment to stoke musical egos and make us feel we are getting out money’s worth.
So that said, I did appreciate how when they came back on stage River pointedly stated this was their final song before launching into the song that launched them; Buddy Holly. The song ended and they all took a bow together under their winged W logo and disappeared. The house lights came on the moment the last Weezer hit the curtain. Before most of us got our coats on, they were already breaking down the stage.
To me, the show was a solid $50 worth out of $77. Again, not that I know much about what concerts are worth these days. I left slightly disappointed I didn’t hear any of their newer songs which I think should be better appreciated by the band and listeners as a whole. But I am grateful that I spent it with a lovely woman at my side who knew despite my cynicism, the night was priceless.
March 27, 2017
Shit HAPPENED - or fuckit, I'm doing a cleanse.
***This post deals with extremely graphic bodily functions. If you don't believe everyone poops, this article is not for you. That said...
via GIPHY
Ow ow ow ow, I'm thinking as I'm sitting on the toilet, again. my asshole is ruined.
And all because I finally decided to do something about my chronic exhaustion, bad diet and belly; I broke down and purchased a cleansing kit.
I remember, there was this time, nearly fifteen years ago when 'cleansing' was the 'in' thing to do- maybe it still is, but my life and social circle has changed from knowing who is starring in the next Tarantino movie to knowing who all the pups in the Paw Patrol are. I know all about 'cleansing' as there was this girlfriend of a drinking buddy who would constantly bring everyone else down because she'd be the only one not drinking and even if nobody asked would find some opportunity (such as "would you like a drink?") to tell everyone she was on a cleanse.
She said it as if it was something to be proud of. But not matter how many times she ‘cleansed’ she was still always a bit of a dick. We were all pretty happy when they finally broke up.
Now, nearly twenty years and twenty pounds later, I've decided to get serious about my health. No matter what you might think now, I’m here to tell you your body changes after 40. I start to think of the bathroom consequences of many of the foods I am about to eat. God help my toilet ans asshole if I start craving hot sauce again. Funnily enough, I just watched an episode of Teen Titans GO! that perfectly summed up my addiction to spicy food.
AND unlike certain people who have done the cleanse, I promised I was not going to tell anyone, other than my wife who always encourages me to lose weight. I don't think she really means it though. Whenever I make some type of weight loss statement, she promptly goes into the kitchen to start making delicious cookies, muffins or a cheesecake.
But this time, I was on to her little tricks. I was going to use WILL POWER, just like the mother-f**kin' Green Lantern.
So I cut off coffee on a Sunday afternoon, quaffed down some day-old nachos with my 7 year old daughter, ate 6 of my wife’s delicious cookies and mentally prepared for the next week’s ride. <o>Day 1 – First thing in the morning I ignored the coffee pot and instead drank two vials of what I have named swamp water, which were about ½ the size of a can of pop. It had the viscosity of a warm milkshake and had this sweet/disgusting taste that reminded me of no-name candies you found in your Grandparents candy dish which had probably been there since 1980. I also had a protein shake, skipping the usual extra large coffee I drink while driving to work.
I was on my way!
At lunch, I went to the deli across the street but was unable to find any Greek salad, my first ‘diet meal’. Instead I had a chick-pea salad and seeing as how I had never eaten that and it had the word salad in it, I figured it was an adequate substitute. I took my 5 pills and drank my second dose of swamp juice. So far, so good.
By 4pm, I began feeling the not-unexpected beginnings of caffeine withdrawal; the gnawing pain behind my temples; bad but not bad. I took a generic aspirin to get me through the rest of the day.
For dinner, I had a curried vege stir fry and five more pills. The stir fry wasn't part of the official diet plan but I was supposed to have one on Wednesday so I’m sure it was still quite acceptable in this cleansing routine. I was having doubts as to what I was supposed to eat and when would have any affect on the cleanse anyways. As long as I stayed in the health food vicinity, avoided hamburgers and fries for rice and vegetables, it would still be a win. Besides, I’ve already tried quinoa after one of my wife's previous health kicks and was willing to try it again, all in the interest of sticking 'mostly' to the plan.
But my headache got worse after dinner so I had another aspirin and went to bed early. For added relief, I also put a cold washcloth on my forehead because everyone knows that cold washcloths are the best relief for everything. I fell asleep.
Then… and I have no idea if this was just because of the coffee withdrawals, the swamp juice I drank or both, at 3am I started going through those drug-type withdrawals you hear about. I was shaking, fever, freezing, head splitting, feeling like I was going to shit my pants. I made it to the bathroom, double flushed, took two Ibuprofen and crawled back into bed, hoping to hell that I wouldn’t be feeling this way in the morning.
And I didn’t.
But Day 2 involved two more swamp juices, 10 more pills. I did the pills and the juice in the morning. My wife had made my protein shake too thick and it was still sitting solid in my travel mug by the time I got to work, an hour later. But my coffee craving wasn’t as bad as yesterday. Perhaps the 3am fever broke me of caffeine’s grip. Not to say I still couldn’t have drank one but I wanted to make the 48 hours. Small goals. I eventually was able to swallow down my shake.
For lunch, I couldn’t bring myself to drink the juice. I’d already been to the bathroom quite unexpectedly again and didn’t want to become ‘that guy’ at work. I bought a turkey wrap for lunch (I hear turkey is good for you) as there were no veggie wraps. It was blah, no more or less than I expected.
For Dinner, I told my wife I wouldn’t drink the swamp juice; I had a firefighter practice with actual activity in it and I was worried about shitting my pants. That decision turned out to be the right call.
Interesting side effect; I found the need to tell someone I was cleansing overpowering. I confessed to a fellow firefighter as we left the practice; he had been off the wagon (so, cleanse-light) for a few weeks and had wanted to stay for a beer. I became that Debbie Downer from my twenties, “Sorry, but like, I’m, um on a cleanse?”
But he didn't say anything too condescending.
Day 3 - I got ready for work, took the last bottle of swamp juice. Made a much thinner protein shake and was out the door. Two hours later, my fears about the firehall were confirmed when massive cramps forced me to the shitter. I was scared for my life. But when it was mercifully all over, the pain subsided leaving me to wonder "is this normal? What the fuck?"
I wind up ducking out of work into the toilet two more times that day, thinking how grateful I was that I'm not in a trade or flying an airplane. Doing a cleanse should come with a warning label "Do not take if operating heavy machinery".
I was also feeling a little dry-eyed, not sure if that's the result of the cleanse, lack of caffeine or what. I find myself thinking at what day can I cheat with a good old hamburger and not feel guilty about it? Friday seemed a good day, only two more days. Plus, it was going to be my last day at this location and there is a nearby restaurant that says it has the best burgers in town. A boast like that needs to be investigated.
might just be it is a small town...I made it home okay, with another small trip to the toilet as soon as I got in the door. However, I realized my headache hadn't reappeared. Maybe I was over the worst of my caffeine withdrawal. So that felt awesome. A simple little salad for dinner and I was ready to take on Day 4, without the fucking swamp juice.
Day 4 - Okay, so I hoped today would be better; no more swamp juice. Just the pills. I woke up at 530, stomach biting but I was going to teach my rectum who was boss. I waited until 630 then decided to get up and eat a bowl of cheerios. That helped. I made my protein shake and took the damn pills. Maybe today, there will be less pooping, I thought.
But, I still had to make a sudden pit stop two hours into my day and kept feeling cramps all afternoon. My butthole just wants to stop pooping and so do I. I know it's not because of lack of coffee. Was it the swamp juice? Is it the pills? The shake? WHEN WILL I STOP POOPING?? I don't even care about how much/if I have lost any weight. I just want to STOP. POOPING.
via GIPHY
Yes, I know I already used that gif but it is seriously the most accurate and also a great show (Parks and Recreation).
The rest of the day drags on. I get home early and decide to have a snack. Then I made the kids dinner, leftovers from the week, and as usual, find myself cleaning off their plates. Then a few taco chips - not enough to feel guilty, but enough to say "Ok, stop it."
I doubt I have lost any weight, so I double check. Yep. Still the same. Feeling like I'm going to treat myself to that burger tomorrow.
Day 5 - aka BURGER DAY or Extenuating Circumstances Day. Today was my last day of employment in this certain part of the world. a block down from my work is that restaurant with the sign, daring me. Ever since seeing that sign, I knew it was a date with destiny. Because of my sudden departure from this location I found myself justifying the trip. And if I'm going to poop, let it be something I can at least enjoy going down before going out.
So after having emptied my bowels twice already that morning, I treated myself. And yes, the burger was great. It even had TWO garnishes on the plate and was held together by a toothpick which indicated it was going to be an expensive lunch. The fries were mediocre at best, which sucked. If you are going to claim the best burger, make sure you have a damn good sidekick coming with it. And full disclosure, to be somewhat true to my diet, I made it a chicken burger, but still at the end of the day there were a couple more trips to the john but I'm glad I could cross that off my bucket list.
Did it change my increasingly frequent and scary bowel movements? No. Nothing to eat that night either aside from some small snacks that aren't even worth mentioning.
Day 6 - So near the end. I am confident my coffee habit is completely kicked now, which was really only a side bet of this whole cleanse thing. I don't want to give it up completely so I am sort of making plans on where should I rejoin the caffeine nation and how. I don't want it to be merely with a cup of piss-pot house blend coffee at my house, nor some chain store coffee that I've had hundreds of times already. I want it to be an experience; a memory, almost like I'm the star of a commercial that espouses the truths we all want to believe about the natural highs we get from coffee. That I will be one with the universe.
<o>
I had to postpone that train of thought as I had to go take another shit. I'm so tired of this, I am almost yearning for the times when I was constipated, just reading chapter after chapter of a good book while never feeling quite empty. Now it's the reverse. I'm going "like, how can I possibly have another shit?! I have nothing but these fucking pills in me. Please, Lord. I'm sorry. Just stop me pooping." And for whatever reason, a lot more mass is coming out of my body than just those 10 fucking pills a day.
So, fuck it. I got a little drunk. A few caesars and a couple beers later, I'm feeling okay. I have a little buzz but nothing too bad. I had a decent sized meal, but still easy on the calories; spicy pineapple chicken and rice with salad. I'm getting used to the lower stomach cramps. I tell myself it's my body losing weight and hope to hell it's not the insides of my stomach lining I'm shitting out.
Day 7 - Last day!! I'm pretty stoked to get my rectum back to be honest. If there was a way I could cool it down from it's 100 mile per dump days it's been having, I'm all for it. Just five more pills to take tonight and it's over.
And to celebrate I'm taking my daughter to a diner. Not 'the best burgers in town' restaurant, but a real diner, where seating is limited and the take out does as much business as the stay-in. And it's going to be delicious. I'm going to be going into reverse-withdrawal; Bacon cheeseburger with everything, probably made my some guy named Mel.
Epilogue
The cheeseburger was great but my stomach was hurting. I felt bloated. I had eaten too many fries and had half a milkshake. What was once old school was somewhat of a chore for me. It was like I could feel myself growing fatter. So... i guess that was good. I'm not ready to push my stomach that far again.
I've become more aware of what I eat and have managed to put a slight brake on my usual diet. I think having to forfeit a lot of foods and coffee has helped me regain a bit of better sensory taste to things. Maybe. I could be speaking out of my ass if it wasn't so sore. I still have another bowel movement left in me but tomorrow morning I am going to return to taking it one meal at a time. No more pills. Just a protein shake for breakfast and I've packed a green salad for lunch and a hard-boiled egg.
My asshole will just have to take it one day at a time.
via GIPHY
Ow ow ow ow, I'm thinking as I'm sitting on the toilet, again. my asshole is ruined.
And all because I finally decided to do something about my chronic exhaustion, bad diet and belly; I broke down and purchased a cleansing kit.
I remember, there was this time, nearly fifteen years ago when 'cleansing' was the 'in' thing to do- maybe it still is, but my life and social circle has changed from knowing who is starring in the next Tarantino movie to knowing who all the pups in the Paw Patrol are. I know all about 'cleansing' as there was this girlfriend of a drinking buddy who would constantly bring everyone else down because she'd be the only one not drinking and even if nobody asked would find some opportunity (such as "would you like a drink?") to tell everyone she was on a cleanse.
She said it as if it was something to be proud of. But not matter how many times she ‘cleansed’ she was still always a bit of a dick. We were all pretty happy when they finally broke up.
Now, nearly twenty years and twenty pounds later, I've decided to get serious about my health. No matter what you might think now, I’m here to tell you your body changes after 40. I start to think of the bathroom consequences of many of the foods I am about to eat. God help my toilet ans asshole if I start craving hot sauce again. Funnily enough, I just watched an episode of Teen Titans GO! that perfectly summed up my addiction to spicy food.
AND unlike certain people who have done the cleanse, I promised I was not going to tell anyone, other than my wife who always encourages me to lose weight. I don't think she really means it though. Whenever I make some type of weight loss statement, she promptly goes into the kitchen to start making delicious cookies, muffins or a cheesecake.
But this time, I was on to her little tricks. I was going to use WILL POWER, just like the mother-f**kin' Green Lantern.
So I cut off coffee on a Sunday afternoon, quaffed down some day-old nachos with my 7 year old daughter, ate 6 of my wife’s delicious cookies and mentally prepared for the next week’s ride. <o>Day 1 – First thing in the morning I ignored the coffee pot and instead drank two vials of what I have named swamp water, which were about ½ the size of a can of pop. It had the viscosity of a warm milkshake and had this sweet/disgusting taste that reminded me of no-name candies you found in your Grandparents candy dish which had probably been there since 1980. I also had a protein shake, skipping the usual extra large coffee I drink while driving to work.
I was on my way!
At lunch, I went to the deli across the street but was unable to find any Greek salad, my first ‘diet meal’. Instead I had a chick-pea salad and seeing as how I had never eaten that and it had the word salad in it, I figured it was an adequate substitute. I took my 5 pills and drank my second dose of swamp juice. So far, so good.
By 4pm, I began feeling the not-unexpected beginnings of caffeine withdrawal; the gnawing pain behind my temples; bad but not bad. I took a generic aspirin to get me through the rest of the day.
For dinner, I had a curried vege stir fry and five more pills. The stir fry wasn't part of the official diet plan but I was supposed to have one on Wednesday so I’m sure it was still quite acceptable in this cleansing routine. I was having doubts as to what I was supposed to eat and when would have any affect on the cleanse anyways. As long as I stayed in the health food vicinity, avoided hamburgers and fries for rice and vegetables, it would still be a win. Besides, I’ve already tried quinoa after one of my wife's previous health kicks and was willing to try it again, all in the interest of sticking 'mostly' to the plan.
But my headache got worse after dinner so I had another aspirin and went to bed early. For added relief, I also put a cold washcloth on my forehead because everyone knows that cold washcloths are the best relief for everything. I fell asleep.
Then… and I have no idea if this was just because of the coffee withdrawals, the swamp juice I drank or both, at 3am I started going through those drug-type withdrawals you hear about. I was shaking, fever, freezing, head splitting, feeling like I was going to shit my pants. I made it to the bathroom, double flushed, took two Ibuprofen and crawled back into bed, hoping to hell that I wouldn’t be feeling this way in the morning.
And I didn’t.
But Day 2 involved two more swamp juices, 10 more pills. I did the pills and the juice in the morning. My wife had made my protein shake too thick and it was still sitting solid in my travel mug by the time I got to work, an hour later. But my coffee craving wasn’t as bad as yesterday. Perhaps the 3am fever broke me of caffeine’s grip. Not to say I still couldn’t have drank one but I wanted to make the 48 hours. Small goals. I eventually was able to swallow down my shake.
For lunch, I couldn’t bring myself to drink the juice. I’d already been to the bathroom quite unexpectedly again and didn’t want to become ‘that guy’ at work. I bought a turkey wrap for lunch (I hear turkey is good for you) as there were no veggie wraps. It was blah, no more or less than I expected.
For Dinner, I told my wife I wouldn’t drink the swamp juice; I had a firefighter practice with actual activity in it and I was worried about shitting my pants. That decision turned out to be the right call.
Interesting side effect; I found the need to tell someone I was cleansing overpowering. I confessed to a fellow firefighter as we left the practice; he had been off the wagon (so, cleanse-light) for a few weeks and had wanted to stay for a beer. I became that Debbie Downer from my twenties, “Sorry, but like, I’m, um on a cleanse?”
But he didn't say anything too condescending.
Day 3 - I got ready for work, took the last bottle of swamp juice. Made a much thinner protein shake and was out the door. Two hours later, my fears about the firehall were confirmed when massive cramps forced me to the shitter. I was scared for my life. But when it was mercifully all over, the pain subsided leaving me to wonder "is this normal? What the fuck?"
I wind up ducking out of work into the toilet two more times that day, thinking how grateful I was that I'm not in a trade or flying an airplane. Doing a cleanse should come with a warning label "Do not take if operating heavy machinery".
I was also feeling a little dry-eyed, not sure if that's the result of the cleanse, lack of caffeine or what. I find myself thinking at what day can I cheat with a good old hamburger and not feel guilty about it? Friday seemed a good day, only two more days. Plus, it was going to be my last day at this location and there is a nearby restaurant that says it has the best burgers in town. A boast like that needs to be investigated.
might just be it is a small town...I made it home okay, with another small trip to the toilet as soon as I got in the door. However, I realized my headache hadn't reappeared. Maybe I was over the worst of my caffeine withdrawal. So that felt awesome. A simple little salad for dinner and I was ready to take on Day 4, without the fucking swamp juice.Day 4 - Okay, so I hoped today would be better; no more swamp juice. Just the pills. I woke up at 530, stomach biting but I was going to teach my rectum who was boss. I waited until 630 then decided to get up and eat a bowl of cheerios. That helped. I made my protein shake and took the damn pills. Maybe today, there will be less pooping, I thought.
But, I still had to make a sudden pit stop two hours into my day and kept feeling cramps all afternoon. My butthole just wants to stop pooping and so do I. I know it's not because of lack of coffee. Was it the swamp juice? Is it the pills? The shake? WHEN WILL I STOP POOPING?? I don't even care about how much/if I have lost any weight. I just want to STOP. POOPING.
via GIPHY
Yes, I know I already used that gif but it is seriously the most accurate and also a great show (Parks and Recreation).
The rest of the day drags on. I get home early and decide to have a snack. Then I made the kids dinner, leftovers from the week, and as usual, find myself cleaning off their plates. Then a few taco chips - not enough to feel guilty, but enough to say "Ok, stop it."
I doubt I have lost any weight, so I double check. Yep. Still the same. Feeling like I'm going to treat myself to that burger tomorrow.
Day 5 - aka BURGER DAY or Extenuating Circumstances Day. Today was my last day of employment in this certain part of the world. a block down from my work is that restaurant with the sign, daring me. Ever since seeing that sign, I knew it was a date with destiny. Because of my sudden departure from this location I found myself justifying the trip. And if I'm going to poop, let it be something I can at least enjoy going down before going out.
So after having emptied my bowels twice already that morning, I treated myself. And yes, the burger was great. It even had TWO garnishes on the plate and was held together by a toothpick which indicated it was going to be an expensive lunch. The fries were mediocre at best, which sucked. If you are going to claim the best burger, make sure you have a damn good sidekick coming with it. And full disclosure, to be somewhat true to my diet, I made it a chicken burger, but still at the end of the day there were a couple more trips to the john but I'm glad I could cross that off my bucket list.
Did it change my increasingly frequent and scary bowel movements? No. Nothing to eat that night either aside from some small snacks that aren't even worth mentioning.
Day 6 - So near the end. I am confident my coffee habit is completely kicked now, which was really only a side bet of this whole cleanse thing. I don't want to give it up completely so I am sort of making plans on where should I rejoin the caffeine nation and how. I don't want it to be merely with a cup of piss-pot house blend coffee at my house, nor some chain store coffee that I've had hundreds of times already. I want it to be an experience; a memory, almost like I'm the star of a commercial that espouses the truths we all want to believe about the natural highs we get from coffee. That I will be one with the universe.
<o>
I had to postpone that train of thought as I had to go take another shit. I'm so tired of this, I am almost yearning for the times when I was constipated, just reading chapter after chapter of a good book while never feeling quite empty. Now it's the reverse. I'm going "like, how can I possibly have another shit?! I have nothing but these fucking pills in me. Please, Lord. I'm sorry. Just stop me pooping." And for whatever reason, a lot more mass is coming out of my body than just those 10 fucking pills a day.
So, fuck it. I got a little drunk. A few caesars and a couple beers later, I'm feeling okay. I have a little buzz but nothing too bad. I had a decent sized meal, but still easy on the calories; spicy pineapple chicken and rice with salad. I'm getting used to the lower stomach cramps. I tell myself it's my body losing weight and hope to hell it's not the insides of my stomach lining I'm shitting out.
Day 7 - Last day!! I'm pretty stoked to get my rectum back to be honest. If there was a way I could cool it down from it's 100 mile per dump days it's been having, I'm all for it. Just five more pills to take tonight and it's over.
And to celebrate I'm taking my daughter to a diner. Not 'the best burgers in town' restaurant, but a real diner, where seating is limited and the take out does as much business as the stay-in. And it's going to be delicious. I'm going to be going into reverse-withdrawal; Bacon cheeseburger with everything, probably made my some guy named Mel.
Epilogue
The cheeseburger was great but my stomach was hurting. I felt bloated. I had eaten too many fries and had half a milkshake. What was once old school was somewhat of a chore for me. It was like I could feel myself growing fatter. So... i guess that was good. I'm not ready to push my stomach that far again.
I've become more aware of what I eat and have managed to put a slight brake on my usual diet. I think having to forfeit a lot of foods and coffee has helped me regain a bit of better sensory taste to things. Maybe. I could be speaking out of my ass if it wasn't so sore. I still have another bowel movement left in me but tomorrow morning I am going to return to taking it one meal at a time. No more pills. Just a protein shake for breakfast and I've packed a green salad for lunch and a hard-boiled egg.
My asshole will just have to take it one day at a time.
January 9, 2017
Shit happens
December 15th, 2016
Today was officially the last day of a 10 year social services career. It ended quietly, perhaps fittingly the way it should have; just me and one client. The other one who is usually there had committed himself earlier in the week; hallucinating and hearing voices. He will return next week, a change in his meds and the side effects that go with it. I'm glad I'm not there for that. Instead me and the other guy spend my last shift going to the mall, grabbing some snacks and watching TV until shift change.
It was a good time, basically just baby-sitting a young-at-heart adult. He's a funny guy and our running joke was "I want my two dollars", a line from Better Off Dead I kept throwing at him because I bought him a coffee the night before and I knew full well he would not ever pay me back. I showed him this clip on youtube so he'd better understand why I kept saying that to him.
Now, nobody ever pays a care aide worker back, except in the occasional back-handed compliment like 'I could never do the job you do'. That's bullshit. Anybody can do the job I do, much like anyone can do the job you do, if they chose to want to do it. I don't kid myself, what I do isn't rocket science or political espionage. It was simply trying to make someone's life better for a few hours a day. Often, whose life you were trying to make better wasn't the person you thought it was. Every job I've been in I've been told never to lend money or buy something for a client, much less buy them something expecting it to paid back. But sometimes, the best thing I could do for them (and my own sense of self) was to reach into my own pocket and buy them a coffee or a burger. That is the only real words of wisdom I can say I learned after 10 years.
So I told my last client it was my last day and he was surprised and not surprised. Nobody had told him and I was asked not to so that the clients wouldn't be affected negatively. I don't understand that reasoning as the turnover is so high these clients continually have a revolving door of new staff coming in and out of their lives. May as well let them have some closure. Some workers give up, thinking they can make a change and finding they can't so go to live the dream elsewhere. Others, bitter ones like myself, know we can't do a thing about their lives. Shit happens and life goes on.
And so it goes, shit happens and I am moving on.
I remember this one defining moment, about six months ago at a different home, a different company. I arrived to start the first of three nights, my usual shift of 11pm to 8am, in the care home which had become my home away from home. I was nearing 4.5 years with this company, about 3.5 years of nights at this house, home of four men who lacked any means of communication, mobility and dignity. I liked the night shift as it was quiet, I worked alone, had plenty of time to write or read or studied (I began to moonlight/daylight as a mortgage broker although when I started I hoped it would be the other way around). I even spent a couple of months playing PS3 as I avoided writing.
Anyways, I opened the door and immediately smelled feces, or 'BM' as we referred to it, as if shortening the word bowel movement took the stigma out of what it actually was; shit, poop, turd, crap, excrement. I smelled shit. And because I have become an expert on shit and its various forms, smells, consistencies etc I knew this particular odor was from the guy I shall call Jeremy. Jeremy is on a feed tube, which means we plug him into a bag of beige liquid which goes into a hole in his stomach slowly throughout the day. Every day he gets a fleet, which basically makes him shit the beige liquid out. Sometimes I wondered why we just didn't put the beige liquid directly into the toilet, eliminating the middle man.
So I walked through the house to Jeremy's room and opened the door. The FIRST thing I see is Jeremy's shit-covered ass, the good ol' one brown eye staring at me like some HP Lovecraft creation. His legs wee being held up by one staff so the shit wouldn't get on Jeremy's bedding. Another staff was wiping his ass with those little wet wipes you use on baby bottoms or dusting the inside of your car. She wiped a little shit off Jer's ass, threw it in the wastebasket, repeated the process.
I could see Jeremy's head up, looking at me in the doorway. I remembered laughing at this sight, Jer and his shit-covered unblinking asshole staring at me. I think I even said to the two staff I was about to replace for the night, "I have to get out of this job."
But I didn't. I sucked it up for a few more months. I needed the guaranteed paycheck the job gave me. So I had to clean up a few asses every night for three nights a week. I took note of who had what kind of shit or pissed themselves and logged it into a book that was never checked. If I was lucky, I only had to deal with urine on some nights, which has another type of universal smell that will never be forgotten.
And then I got that little push. I was fired. Ironically, for nothing that I should have been fired for. And I will admit there were definitely things I did I should have been fired for but I'm going to keep those specific confessions to myself.
I was just trying to make it my holidays, have a month off and quit on my terms. I didn't get to do that which sucks, as will anyone who has ever been fired will tell you but so be it - shit happens. I challenged our manager over a dryer hose I offered to fix. Instead, she threw everything but the truth at me (which she didn't know) in a meeting with our executive director. They threw out a working dryer because the dryer hose was wrecked (which is what I pointed out). In the end I was fired for admitting I wore ear buds at work sometimes and apparently told someone it was okay to leave a client's guard rails down, which was an outright lie. But the earplugs, they felt this meant it impeded my ability to change diapers, do laundry and prep the next day's supper.
My union wanted to know if I wanted to grieve my firing. They wanted to know if I really wanted to return to that house, to get paid $18 hour to change diapers for basically four economic units that are kept alive only so they can chew down a mixture of brand-name pharmaceutical pills four times a day and the Company can bill the necessary agency for all that they do to keep them breathing and pooping and living valuable lives.
Did I want to keep the job? The one that made me miss half my weekends with my kids, the one that found me being tucked into bed at 8.30 am by my 4 then 5 then 6 year old? The one that made me chronically tired? The one that gave me an opportunity to write near everything I've done over the last four years? No, I was done. I was given 24 hours to sign the papers saying I agreed to a small buy-out and to not discuss what happened which is why I am not using the company's name in this blog.
But again, I digress. I didn't want to keep this job centered around shit. So, in this strange road I'm on, I'm not, finding some fruition in the financial world. But it seems a bit tenuous at best right now, as if at any minute I'm going to be told this was all a large misunderstanding. Maybe that day will be tomorrow, maybe the next.
But until then, shit will always happen. It just happens but at least I'm finally not the the one doing the wiping.
Today was officially the last day of a 10 year social services career. It ended quietly, perhaps fittingly the way it should have; just me and one client. The other one who is usually there had committed himself earlier in the week; hallucinating and hearing voices. He will return next week, a change in his meds and the side effects that go with it. I'm glad I'm not there for that. Instead me and the other guy spend my last shift going to the mall, grabbing some snacks and watching TV until shift change.
It was a good time, basically just baby-sitting a young-at-heart adult. He's a funny guy and our running joke was "I want my two dollars", a line from Better Off Dead I kept throwing at him because I bought him a coffee the night before and I knew full well he would not ever pay me back. I showed him this clip on youtube so he'd better understand why I kept saying that to him.
Now, nobody ever pays a care aide worker back, except in the occasional back-handed compliment like 'I could never do the job you do'. That's bullshit. Anybody can do the job I do, much like anyone can do the job you do, if they chose to want to do it. I don't kid myself, what I do isn't rocket science or political espionage. It was simply trying to make someone's life better for a few hours a day. Often, whose life you were trying to make better wasn't the person you thought it was. Every job I've been in I've been told never to lend money or buy something for a client, much less buy them something expecting it to paid back. But sometimes, the best thing I could do for them (and my own sense of self) was to reach into my own pocket and buy them a coffee or a burger. That is the only real words of wisdom I can say I learned after 10 years.
So I told my last client it was my last day and he was surprised and not surprised. Nobody had told him and I was asked not to so that the clients wouldn't be affected negatively. I don't understand that reasoning as the turnover is so high these clients continually have a revolving door of new staff coming in and out of their lives. May as well let them have some closure. Some workers give up, thinking they can make a change and finding they can't so go to live the dream elsewhere. Others, bitter ones like myself, know we can't do a thing about their lives. Shit happens and life goes on.
And so it goes, shit happens and I am moving on.
I remember this one defining moment, about six months ago at a different home, a different company. I arrived to start the first of three nights, my usual shift of 11pm to 8am, in the care home which had become my home away from home. I was nearing 4.5 years with this company, about 3.5 years of nights at this house, home of four men who lacked any means of communication, mobility and dignity. I liked the night shift as it was quiet, I worked alone, had plenty of time to write or read or studied (I began to moonlight/daylight as a mortgage broker although when I started I hoped it would be the other way around). I even spent a couple of months playing PS3 as I avoided writing.
Anyways, I opened the door and immediately smelled feces, or 'BM' as we referred to it, as if shortening the word bowel movement took the stigma out of what it actually was; shit, poop, turd, crap, excrement. I smelled shit. And because I have become an expert on shit and its various forms, smells, consistencies etc I knew this particular odor was from the guy I shall call Jeremy. Jeremy is on a feed tube, which means we plug him into a bag of beige liquid which goes into a hole in his stomach slowly throughout the day. Every day he gets a fleet, which basically makes him shit the beige liquid out. Sometimes I wondered why we just didn't put the beige liquid directly into the toilet, eliminating the middle man.
So I walked through the house to Jeremy's room and opened the door. The FIRST thing I see is Jeremy's shit-covered ass, the good ol' one brown eye staring at me like some HP Lovecraft creation. His legs wee being held up by one staff so the shit wouldn't get on Jeremy's bedding. Another staff was wiping his ass with those little wet wipes you use on baby bottoms or dusting the inside of your car. She wiped a little shit off Jer's ass, threw it in the wastebasket, repeated the process.
I could see Jeremy's head up, looking at me in the doorway. I remembered laughing at this sight, Jer and his shit-covered unblinking asshole staring at me. I think I even said to the two staff I was about to replace for the night, "I have to get out of this job."
But I didn't. I sucked it up for a few more months. I needed the guaranteed paycheck the job gave me. So I had to clean up a few asses every night for three nights a week. I took note of who had what kind of shit or pissed themselves and logged it into a book that was never checked. If I was lucky, I only had to deal with urine on some nights, which has another type of universal smell that will never be forgotten.
And then I got that little push. I was fired. Ironically, for nothing that I should have been fired for. And I will admit there were definitely things I did I should have been fired for but I'm going to keep those specific confessions to myself.
I was just trying to make it my holidays, have a month off and quit on my terms. I didn't get to do that which sucks, as will anyone who has ever been fired will tell you but so be it - shit happens. I challenged our manager over a dryer hose I offered to fix. Instead, she threw everything but the truth at me (which she didn't know) in a meeting with our executive director. They threw out a working dryer because the dryer hose was wrecked (which is what I pointed out). In the end I was fired for admitting I wore ear buds at work sometimes and apparently told someone it was okay to leave a client's guard rails down, which was an outright lie. But the earplugs, they felt this meant it impeded my ability to change diapers, do laundry and prep the next day's supper.
My union wanted to know if I wanted to grieve my firing. They wanted to know if I really wanted to return to that house, to get paid $18 hour to change diapers for basically four economic units that are kept alive only so they can chew down a mixture of brand-name pharmaceutical pills four times a day and the Company can bill the necessary agency for all that they do to keep them breathing and pooping and living valuable lives.
Did I want to keep the job? The one that made me miss half my weekends with my kids, the one that found me being tucked into bed at 8.30 am by my 4 then 5 then 6 year old? The one that made me chronically tired? The one that gave me an opportunity to write near everything I've done over the last four years? No, I was done. I was given 24 hours to sign the papers saying I agreed to a small buy-out and to not discuss what happened which is why I am not using the company's name in this blog.
But again, I digress. I didn't want to keep this job centered around shit. So, in this strange road I'm on, I'm not, finding some fruition in the financial world. But it seems a bit tenuous at best right now, as if at any minute I'm going to be told this was all a large misunderstanding. Maybe that day will be tomorrow, maybe the next.
But until then, shit will always happen. It just happens but at least I'm finally not the the one doing the wiping.
October 22, 2016
On reaching 730,000 'viewers'
This is the opening sentence which is supposed to hook you and make you read on. It should be click-baity or something. Maybe have 'you won't believe what happens next' as the title.
So I'm going to throw a number at you.
730,000.
That's how many times my articles on the Internet have been viewed.
At least. Don't know how many were robots or people but even if it was 50-50, that is a pretty impressive number.
My books/short stories have been downloaded by 600 plus people via smashwords or kindle for their ereaders or cell phones. Technology. However, I have to clear a couple thousand ebooks or even Amazon books before I'd see a royalty check but... I'm not in it for the money.
After this blog post is published, one of you lucky bastards will be my 40,000th reader to this blog alone.
I should feel something about that. But i don't.
Maybe it is because I didn't get paid to write any of the above.
Maybe because I don't consider Internet reading as being 'writing' but more 'content providing'. If it isn't on paper, there is no truth to it but damn, that's a funny picture.
I don't know. But despite my lack of posts in recent weeks, it has not been because of lack of wanting. I've been busy. I got fired from a go-nowhere job a couple months ago. That hit me harder than it should have. I am now in the running for a different job that still does not pay me to write. However, logically it is a wise decision.
But when do writers do the logical thing? Writers, by definition, aren't logical. They are impulsive, needy, withholding, selfish, awkward, self-righteous chameleons.
Yet I am going through the motions; I won't deny that what I've written won't change the world but I did have fun writing it. I know this because when I start to write time changes around me. Ten minutes somehow becomes one hour. One hour turns out to be three. I have a love/hate relationship because nothing I write will ever be good enough for the future me despite present me thinking win a r fucking Nobel prize for this clever shit.
Other reasons for lack of social media public relating as an author;
I also got married - to a woman who gives me the same feeling when I write. We have known each other for eight years yet she hasn't aged a day. It still doesn't feel like we've been together a year yet, much less nearly a decade. My only advice on this is if you're not keeping a timer on your relationship, you are probably doing something right.
Before the wedding i was writing a sequel to Enter A Fistful of Marijuana - that has flat-lined for the last month as I try to figure out some plot holes.
I also started creating a new website which according to most social media self-publishing groups is something I should do. It's been slow as I can hear the clock ticking away every minute, something I never hear when I am writing.
Maybe one day I will finish it.
We also went to Nelson, BC a few weeks ago. Nelson was the inspiration for my 1st novel Stoner, Unincorporated. Seeing the town again after 15 years made me want to go re-edit Stoner Uninc. again so I have been doing that between fatherly and husband duties (with some poor-me gaming going on as well).
They say when you edit your first time, you should cut 20%. I am a quaMy word count is currently only 400 less than when I started... so basically, there hasn't been much I've wanted to change, which I think is a good sign.
There is also a saying writers should 'show and don't tell' which I'm finding is kind of bullshit. I'm reading Gone Girl and the author has done a good job of mixing the two (ie; using a diary in the voice of the 1st person is a way of telling the reader backstory). Stoner, Uninc. has a lot of telling in it but as I read it (again) I'd have it no other way.
When I am done, I will re-publish it, making the current version another collector's edition decades down the line.
Then after that perhaps I will chip away at this stupid romance story that I've been molding for 20 years. Or maybe this serial killer genre thriller which has only been sitting in my computer for 8 years. Or maybe go back to EaFoM 2. Or publish another personal favourite from Ogie Oglethorpe: Drew Doughty Vs. The World (why is it so hard to format footnotes when you try to self-publish?).
Or maybe I will just say fuck it and do what is logical; stop dreaming of that perfect world where my books make someone enough money they want to give me 'advance moneys' for something I haven't written yet. Perhaps one day I will hear my books have been optioned by Matt Damon or Seth Rogen. Instead I will just be happy with the job I get until the magic happens.
I don't know how magic happens.
But it is around me every day. I am surrounded by supportive people and generous readers who have taken a few minutes to read my 'Internet content' or the books. I appreciate everyone who tells me if they enjoyed my writing and/or content providing. I have children who amuse the crap out of me and some days I have trouble picturing what it would be like to be gone from them 40 hours a week, to only see them sporadically on weekends and around the dinner table. That will be a hard adjustment when the time comes. Right now, it is past midnight, everyone is asleep and it is the best time for writing but... tomorrow morning comes sooner than I'd like and being a parent means you forfeit your right to sleep past 9 am, no matter what time you fall asleep.
In the end, I feel quite proud of most everything I have published, even some forgotten ones that come back to me on Facebook memories. They all have their own unique qualities, subtle jokes and outrageous premises. I'm tired of tapping on links that are as easy to erase as it was to open them.
So back to those 730,000. It's a big, nice number but overall, meaningless. The only readers I care about are you and the guy staring back at me in the mirror. He's a tough critic.
Until next time - jay
September 18, 2016
A Real Letter From An Underemployed Me, 2004
- I found this in the draft folder of an old email account. Its a mass email I sent out to all my old contacts/friends at the time bFB (before Facebook). Some of you who read this may still remember it because I do some name-dropping in it when I was a DGC locations assistant. I find reading it sort of funny if you are into that sort of thing.
And this was apparently before it was okay to only have 1 space after a period as I'm double-spacing every sentence.
Thanks, public education.
Hey [insert name here]
For the interest of nobody but me, I’m going to be adding in 10 80s trivia questions to make this letter more interactive. You’ll get the idea as we go along.
So, how y’all been doing? Listening to a lot of Bonnie Tyler? (what were her two hit songs in the eighties?)
It’s been a long time since I’ve written anything, or so it seems. Mainly, I just don’t recall the last time I wrote, so if some of this is repetitive, please forgive me. I’ve been having a great, surreal October, which is how I know most of you describe knowing me. (What famous rock band had an early album called October?)
I’ve met a host of strange people this year, some even more strange than you. Bif Naked, Terence Stamp, Quentin Tarantino to drop just a few names. (In what movie did Terence Stamp play the evil General Zog?)
Yep, I met the big Q, who I would say weighs a bit more than me, thank you very much to all those parents that have recently commented on my ‘overly healthy body’. Can I help it if these people insist on putting free food in front of me for 15 hours a day? Although technically there is no such concept as a coffee break, for our days our more like a long coffee break interrupted by occasional work, it is somewhat odd to know that when you feel like grabbing a snack, you can just wander over to the table where the chocolate fondue is set up. Or maybe go have some perogies or hot dogs. So, anyway, there I am across the snack table from Quentin TARANTINO and I (being somewhat of a film buff, FYI) ask him if he has ever tried a Nutella and banana sandwich. I wanted to ask him why he beeped out the name of the bride in Kill Bills for 3/4s of the movie, but what can I say… I’m an idiot. (What Tarantino actor once starred in the memorable 80’s movie Look Who’s Talking?)
In case you think that my life is nothing but glamour, I will continue to let you think so. I won’t tell you about waking up at 4am , sitting underneath bridges watching junkies shoot up, or putting equal parts oil and gasoline in my truck. The Iraq war? That’s all because of my truck. Sorry, everyone. (What country did the USA successfully invade in the 80’s to much better success?)
Besides my Tarantino comment, I am probably most proud that upon seeing Ben Affleck. I got the opportunity to tell him he ‘was the bomb in Phantoms’. For those of you who don’t get that joke, you have to watch Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back. (What planet were the Ewoks from in Return of the Jedi?)
I’ve been working on the new Muppet movie, a take off of Wizard of Oz, with a young pop star named Ashanti in the lead role of Dorothy. It’s been fascinating watching everyone at work, and it’s encouraging to see that I am on the younger end of the age range, being in my late 20’s. So, for those of you that think that you (or me) are too old to work with puppets, there is a whole sub-culture that begs to differ. (How old was I when Top Gun came out?)
It’s been also amazing watching the interaction of the muppets with the children that come and visit. There was one girl the other day that asked if Miss Piggy was going to come and have lunch with her and her mom. I really don’t think she understood that Miss Piggy was actually attached to a puppeteer. She then told Piggy that she loved her in Shrek 2. Miss Piggy told her that she wasn’t in that and the girl corrected herself by saying it was Shark Tales. That was funny. (How many Jaws movies have been released?)
John Henson was also hilarious. He’s the younger son of Jim Henson and besides playing the giant monster Sweetums, was also the Coca-Cola Polar Bear mascot for a few special events. He was a very nice guy and one of those people you would love to have sitting around you at a campfire telling stories. (What 80’s rock group has nothing to do with the preceding paragraph?)
What else? In less than 2 weeks, I am off to Costa Rica for three weeks, where my brother and I are going to go join the revolution (oops, was I supposed to mention that Sonia?). I watched Team America the other night and found it hilarious but I only recommend it to people who also found South Park and Orgazmo funny. Ah, heck, I recommend it to everyone, except to that guy who has no sense of humour... (What famous hockey goalie has a small case of Tourette’s Syndrome, unlike my roommate, who is currently cussing away in the kitchen to nobody? Bonus; Who is my roommate?)
Well, that’s about it. Good luck on the trivia questions. Let me know if you want the answers and I will email them to you. (What was the name of the Greatest American Hero?)
Answers:
Total Eclipse of the Heart, Holding Out for a Hero
U2
Superman 2; Room With A View
John Travolta
Grenada
Ewokland
Fifteen
Five
Bon Jovi
Patrick Roy (bonus; Dave Schwarz)
He never had a superhero name but his first name was Ralph
And this was apparently before it was okay to only have 1 space after a period as I'm double-spacing every sentence.
Thanks, public education.
Hey [insert name here]
For the interest of nobody but me, I’m going to be adding in 10 80s trivia questions to make this letter more interactive. You’ll get the idea as we go along.
So, how y’all been doing? Listening to a lot of Bonnie Tyler? (what were her two hit songs in the eighties?)
It’s been a long time since I’ve written anything, or so it seems. Mainly, I just don’t recall the last time I wrote, so if some of this is repetitive, please forgive me. I’ve been having a great, surreal October, which is how I know most of you describe knowing me. (What famous rock band had an early album called October?)
I’ve met a host of strange people this year, some even more strange than you. Bif Naked, Terence Stamp, Quentin Tarantino to drop just a few names. (In what movie did Terence Stamp play the evil General Zog?)
Yep, I met the big Q, who I would say weighs a bit more than me, thank you very much to all those parents that have recently commented on my ‘overly healthy body’. Can I help it if these people insist on putting free food in front of me for 15 hours a day? Although technically there is no such concept as a coffee break, for our days our more like a long coffee break interrupted by occasional work, it is somewhat odd to know that when you feel like grabbing a snack, you can just wander over to the table where the chocolate fondue is set up. Or maybe go have some perogies or hot dogs. So, anyway, there I am across the snack table from Quentin TARANTINO and I (being somewhat of a film buff, FYI) ask him if he has ever tried a Nutella and banana sandwich. I wanted to ask him why he beeped out the name of the bride in Kill Bills for 3/4s of the movie, but what can I say… I’m an idiot. (What Tarantino actor once starred in the memorable 80’s movie Look Who’s Talking?)
In case you think that my life is nothing but glamour, I will continue to let you think so. I won’t tell you about waking up at 4am , sitting underneath bridges watching junkies shoot up, or putting equal parts oil and gasoline in my truck. The Iraq war? That’s all because of my truck. Sorry, everyone. (What country did the USA successfully invade in the 80’s to much better success?)
Besides my Tarantino comment, I am probably most proud that upon seeing Ben Affleck. I got the opportunity to tell him he ‘was the bomb in Phantoms’. For those of you who don’t get that joke, you have to watch Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back. (What planet were the Ewoks from in Return of the Jedi?)
I’ve been working on the new Muppet movie, a take off of Wizard of Oz, with a young pop star named Ashanti in the lead role of Dorothy. It’s been fascinating watching everyone at work, and it’s encouraging to see that I am on the younger end of the age range, being in my late 20’s. So, for those of you that think that you (or me) are too old to work with puppets, there is a whole sub-culture that begs to differ. (How old was I when Top Gun came out?)
It’s been also amazing watching the interaction of the muppets with the children that come and visit. There was one girl the other day that asked if Miss Piggy was going to come and have lunch with her and her mom. I really don’t think she understood that Miss Piggy was actually attached to a puppeteer. She then told Piggy that she loved her in Shrek 2. Miss Piggy told her that she wasn’t in that and the girl corrected herself by saying it was Shark Tales. That was funny. (How many Jaws movies have been released?)
John Henson was also hilarious. He’s the younger son of Jim Henson and besides playing the giant monster Sweetums, was also the Coca-Cola Polar Bear mascot for a few special events. He was a very nice guy and one of those people you would love to have sitting around you at a campfire telling stories. (What 80’s rock group has nothing to do with the preceding paragraph?)
What else? In less than 2 weeks, I am off to Costa Rica for three weeks, where my brother and I are going to go join the revolution (oops, was I supposed to mention that Sonia?). I watched Team America the other night and found it hilarious but I only recommend it to people who also found South Park and Orgazmo funny. Ah, heck, I recommend it to everyone, except to that guy who has no sense of humour... (What famous hockey goalie has a small case of Tourette’s Syndrome, unlike my roommate, who is currently cussing away in the kitchen to nobody? Bonus; Who is my roommate?)
Well, that’s about it. Good luck on the trivia questions. Let me know if you want the answers and I will email them to you. (What was the name of the Greatest American Hero?)
Answers:
Total Eclipse of the Heart, Holding Out for a Hero
U2
Superman 2; Room With A View
John Travolta
Grenada
Ewokland
Fifteen
Five
Bon Jovi
Patrick Roy (bonus; Dave Schwarz)
He never had a superhero name but his first name was Ralph
September 2, 2016
Wedding Day Memories
It took nearly 45 years to truly dedicate myself heart and soul to someone, someone I've known for only 8 years but hasn't aged a day in her spirit. Someone who has shown me that I am more than what I believed, someone who has chosen to believe in me and our future together. It's been a hard yet fun road to this point with her and near every day I should remind myself this is real.
We have our fights but they don't change how we feel about each other. One bad sentence in a story won't change the ending. Jaime chose me to start a family, I chose her to raise one with me. As I watch my beautiful daughter and my two sons, all with such large personalities I am forever grateful I have her to share these memories with me.
Sure, we made some mistakes in the planning, nothing was as simple as we hoped but yet it nothing mattered to us. No ice for the beer? My bad, but no longer my problem. It's starting to rain? No problem. You can't find our kids? Not our problem. We didn't write out our thank you list? Oops, our bad. We meant no offense if we forgot anyone. No coffee for the morning after? Shit - we'll run down to the store to grab some 7 AM Sunday morning.
Personally, I felt I wrote a killer speech, thanking a lot of individuals for helping me make it to this day. I am sort of glad I didn't have it - I doubt I could have gotten past the first two people before my voice would break up and everyone would be staring at me as I'm losing my shit, crying like a baby. Someone once said it is only okay for a man to cry if he lost the big game or if his dog dies. I think publicly thanking his friends should be up there too. But I did get to thank a lot of people individually. Some left before I got to them and that sucked. Some I didn't get to thank until the next morning. But I was able to thank them for not only being part of our day, but also being part of my life. For so many to come so far and I only a spent a few quality minutes with them, it made me realize again why I have always considered them my closest friends, even if I hadn't seen them for years.
So life will move on. It is hard to believe it has nearly been a week already but things are just starting to get back to normal. Everyone has left, we've gone back to school shopping and barring a few wedding decorations needing a home, it is almost as if last week was a dream.
A crazy, beautiful dream. Thank you for being a part of it. Thank you to Jaime Royston, love of my life, even if it took a few years.
July 30, 2016
Work in Progress - Stephen Spielberg Vs. The Academy V1
For the interested, and on some days readers are more interested in my blog than others - this is an ongoing article on how I write a blog. This is after I have an idea but before I hit 'publish' on the sidebar.
Writing is an interesting craft. I can't think of any other form where you spend hours/weeks/years building something (your story) then when you are done you think 'Fuck, this is awesome' and rush out to try to convince everyone to read it immediately.
Then when you look at it six months later you wonder what the hell you were thinking. It's crap. You spelled something wrong, your main character would never walk with a limp or wear a Metallica T-shirt.
So that's why I draft. Then I wait. Then I go through it again. Other artists probably just start over. I've never heard of a painting reclaimed by an artist because it was missing a tree or something, or a music album recalled because one song really sucked and the songwriter wanted to change a word or verse.
I am probably oversimplifying. I don't know other artists or writers methods. I just know what I feel I am supposed to do.
So here is the first draft of my idea for an article that looks at the Biggest Player in Hollywood (Steven Spielberg) and his fight to be recognized as a 'serious' auteur by the Motion Picture Academy which annually presents the Oscars with much pomp and publicity.
I wrote this a year ago. Being a freelance writer (ie; blogger) I'm under no deadline. Unless one of you wants to pay me to finish this, then I will be done as soon as the paypal alert goes.
Notes for the Newbies - 1st draft is what it is, pretty much all text. Maybe a link or two which was the genesis of the idea. 2nd draft will include pictures, perhaps more links. Tightening up the text.
Steven Spielberg. If James Cameron is King of the World, Spielberg is King of Hollywood. And bad Video Games, (so as I was reading this, it spun into this idea for the post)
But for the best-earning director in Hollywood, with dozens of film directing credits he has only won Best Picture 3x. So in this world of glamour and studio politics let's compare who beat out SS for the Golden Man in the relevant years. (awful phrasing to be fixed later)
William Wyler is the only director with a worst % ratio of Spielberg's 2 for 7 wins to nominations ratio. Wyler, a formidable bastard back in the glory years of film raked in 3 wins for his 12 nominations. (need to link to Wyler's IMDB page with relevant film titles)
Spielberg shares the win to loss ratio with David Lean and Fred Zinneman, both winners for Bridge on the River Kwai and From Here to Eternity, respectively. (more IMDB research)
Spielberg's Movie of the Year/ nomination category/ wins bolded(find movie posters to be inserted)
2012 - LincolnNominated Best Director/Movie Ang Lee for Life of Pi
2011War Horse / The Adventures of Tintin
Not Nominated
Best Director Michael Hazanavicius for The Artist
2008 Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull
Not NominatedBest Director/Movie Danny Boyle for Slumdog Millionaire
2005 Munich (nominated) /War of the Worlds (Not Nominated)Best Director/Movie Ang Lee for Brokeback Mountain
2004 The Terminal
Not Nominated Best Director/Movie Clint Eastwood for Million Dollar Baby
2002 Catch Me If You Can / Minority Report
Not Nominated Best Director/Movie Roman Polanski for The Pianist
2001 A.I. Artificial Intelligence
Not Nominated Best Director/Movie Ron Howard for A Beautiful Mind
1998 Saving Private Ryan
Nominated Best Director/Movie Spielberg
1997 Amistad / The Lost World: Jurassic ParkNot NominatedBest Director/Movie James Cameron for Titanic
1993 Schindler's List/ Jurassic Park
Nominated Best Director/Movie Spielberg
1991 Hook
Not Nominated Best Director/Movie Jonathon Demme for Silence of the Lambs
1989 Always /Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade
Not Nominated Best Director/Movie Oliver Stone for Born on the Fourth of July
1987 Empire of the Sun Not Nominated Best Director/Movie Bernardo Bertulucci Last Emperor
1985 The Color Purple
Not Nominated Best Director/Movie Sydney Pollack for Out of Africa
1984 Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom Not Nominated Best Director/Movie Milos Forman for Amadeus
1983 Twilight Zone: The Movie (segment "2")
Not NominatedBest Director/Movie James L. Brooks for Terms of Endearment
1982 E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial
Nominated Best Director/Movie Richard Attenborough for Gandhi
1981 Raiders of the Lost Ark
Nominated Best Director/Movie Warren Beaty for Reds
1979 1941
Not Nominated Best Director/Movie Robert Benton for Kramer Vs. Kramer
1977 Close Encounters of the Third Kind
Nominated Best Picture Woody Allen for Annie Hall (note star wars released)
1975 Jaws Not Nominated Best Director/Movie Milos Forman for One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest
1974 The Sugarland Express Not Nominated Best Director/Movie Francis Ford Coppola for Godfather Part 2
Conclusion.
(I got nothing, which is probably why I ran out of energy and focus in finishing this)
Writing is an interesting craft. I can't think of any other form where you spend hours/weeks/years building something (your story) then when you are done you think 'Fuck, this is awesome' and rush out to try to convince everyone to read it immediately.
Then when you look at it six months later you wonder what the hell you were thinking. It's crap. You spelled something wrong, your main character would never walk with a limp or wear a Metallica T-shirt.
So that's why I draft. Then I wait. Then I go through it again. Other artists probably just start over. I've never heard of a painting reclaimed by an artist because it was missing a tree or something, or a music album recalled because one song really sucked and the songwriter wanted to change a word or verse.
I am probably oversimplifying. I don't know other artists or writers methods. I just know what I feel I am supposed to do.
So here is the first draft of my idea for an article that looks at the Biggest Player in Hollywood (Steven Spielberg) and his fight to be recognized as a 'serious' auteur by the Motion Picture Academy which annually presents the Oscars with much pomp and publicity.
I wrote this a year ago. Being a freelance writer (ie; blogger) I'm under no deadline. Unless one of you wants to pay me to finish this, then I will be done as soon as the paypal alert goes.
Notes for the Newbies - 1st draft is what it is, pretty much all text. Maybe a link or two which was the genesis of the idea. 2nd draft will include pictures, perhaps more links. Tightening up the text.
Steven Spielberg. If James Cameron is King of the World, Spielberg is King of Hollywood. And bad Video Games, (so as I was reading this, it spun into this idea for the post)
But for the best-earning director in Hollywood, with dozens of film directing credits he has only won Best Picture 3x. So in this world of glamour and studio politics let's compare who beat out SS for the Golden Man in the relevant years. (awful phrasing to be fixed later)
William Wyler is the only director with a worst % ratio of Spielberg's 2 for 7 wins to nominations ratio. Wyler, a formidable bastard back in the glory years of film raked in 3 wins for his 12 nominations. (need to link to Wyler's IMDB page with relevant film titles)
Spielberg shares the win to loss ratio with David Lean and Fred Zinneman, both winners for Bridge on the River Kwai and From Here to Eternity, respectively. (more IMDB research)
Spielberg's Movie of the Year/ nomination category/ wins bolded(find movie posters to be inserted)
2012 - LincolnNominated Best Director/Movie Ang Lee for Life of Pi
2011War Horse / The Adventures of Tintin
Not Nominated
Best Director Michael Hazanavicius for The Artist
2008 Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull
Not NominatedBest Director/Movie Danny Boyle for Slumdog Millionaire
2005 Munich (nominated) /War of the Worlds (Not Nominated)Best Director/Movie Ang Lee for Brokeback Mountain
2004 The Terminal
Not Nominated Best Director/Movie Clint Eastwood for Million Dollar Baby
2002 Catch Me If You Can / Minority Report
Not Nominated Best Director/Movie Roman Polanski for The Pianist
2001 A.I. Artificial Intelligence
Not Nominated Best Director/Movie Ron Howard for A Beautiful Mind
1998 Saving Private Ryan
Nominated Best Director/Movie Spielberg
1997 Amistad / The Lost World: Jurassic ParkNot NominatedBest Director/Movie James Cameron for Titanic
1993 Schindler's List/ Jurassic Park
Nominated Best Director/Movie Spielberg
1991 Hook
Not Nominated Best Director/Movie Jonathon Demme for Silence of the Lambs
1989 Always /Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade
Not Nominated Best Director/Movie Oliver Stone for Born on the Fourth of July
1987 Empire of the Sun Not Nominated Best Director/Movie Bernardo Bertulucci Last Emperor
1985 The Color Purple
Not Nominated Best Director/Movie Sydney Pollack for Out of Africa
1984 Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom Not Nominated Best Director/Movie Milos Forman for Amadeus
1983 Twilight Zone: The Movie (segment "2")
Not NominatedBest Director/Movie James L. Brooks for Terms of Endearment
1982 E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial
Nominated Best Director/Movie Richard Attenborough for Gandhi
1981 Raiders of the Lost Ark
Nominated Best Director/Movie Warren Beaty for Reds
1979 1941
Not Nominated Best Director/Movie Robert Benton for Kramer Vs. Kramer
1977 Close Encounters of the Third Kind
Nominated Best Picture Woody Allen for Annie Hall (note star wars released)
1975 Jaws Not Nominated Best Director/Movie Milos Forman for One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest
1974 The Sugarland Express Not Nominated Best Director/Movie Francis Ford Coppola for Godfather Part 2
Conclusion.
(I got nothing, which is probably why I ran out of energy and focus in finishing this)
