December 20 2018

$25/Month is what I pay to keep a ‘dream’ alive

Wha….?

I pay $25 a month to a professional author so she can live the dream via Patreon. I’ve been doing it for a number of years. What have I gotten out of it? Smug satisfaction? I mean why else do you continue to make that monthly donation to your local public television station. It’s not like you actually watch it.

Small truth/joke here. Every time I want to test an internet connection issue, I use a site I know I don’t frequent all that often, PBS.org. Yeah… Don’t get me wrong, I like the idea of supporting the arts/community/etc… Some people donate to other (nobler?) causes like the United Way. Well, artists need sandwiches too. They can’t all drive around in minivans with collection buckets spread out on the sidewalk before their wares.

You see it’s a guilty pleasure. I still have the dream of publishing my own works. So, instead of saving my hard earned money and using it to invest in a real editor, I splurge it on others. Dave… you make no sense. Yeah, well, ‘rumple fart sniffer’ is what I say back to you. It doesn’t have to make sense. The United Way has a way of siphoning off donated funds toward their executives.

I think of it as my non-canceling gym membership.

I’m still plugging away at my own stuff, keeping the ‘delusion’ alive.

 

 

🙂

December 20 2018

The D(a/o)rk Side of the yellow path

We all have a dark side. I’m not afraid of mine. I don’t know if I discussed this another posting, I’m thinking I did, or not, but if I did… so what.

So this last Wednesday, as my local writing group was finishing up our quiet focused hour, we started discussing our progress. I used that time to ask another writer, who is working on a story in ancient Egypt if lacquer is used in body preservation. I got a number of strange looks from the other participants. To be fair we didn’t have very many regulars that day and the majority of them were first times (and last?) to the group. I then turned to address the group and said, “I need to know how viable it would be in preserving a freshly killed body.” Their looks only soured further.

The group lead started chuckling as she has grown accustomed to my antics/personality. She said, “I really like your dark side. You have a real grasp on it and have fun with it.”

I found myself nodding. I would like to think I do. To be fair, it can go much darker but that is not what this topic is about. It’s about my skipping across the murky pond that resides within my subconscious and coming out the other side with only a few skip marks on my persona. Hopefully, I never have to go there out of necessity. Ever since my kids were born, I knew I had it in me to kill in order to protect them should the need arise. My thoughts have also gone in the opposite direction no thanks to sleep deprivation. With my son now eight, and daughter now twelve, I have also embraced the thought of going to prison for the rest of my life should anyone threaten either of them. On the flip side, heaven help my kids if they would cause harm upon somebody else’s kids. Homey don’t play that.

I find myself thinking back to Dwight again. That was a person, much like a person who never learned to wipe their butt correctly, never developed a healthy means of playing with their inner demons. This got me thinking, have I been picking on Dwight out of a twisted sense of perversion on my part? Is Dwight a handy-special person who just doesn’t know any better? If so, then I owe her an apology. I had no idea you were ‘gifted’ in your limitations.

Now, if you feel the above is in any way insulting or that you are indeed ‘not special’, take heart. You will always be special in my heart. I know with some people they were diapers before going to bed because they never master basic human bladder control kindness. Are you one of these people?

Here’s the thing. I know you are not as you have said to my face after reading my blog-posts so many times, “I have been called worse by far better people.” Those are big words and they were used in the correct context. You piss-passed your urine all on your own. You pissed all over yourself of your own volition. You bathe in it as wear its musk like a badge of honor.

Is my d(a/o)rkness showing again? ‘Funny’ you should ask? Let me try to not skip around the answer. Life is short. Life is about death. Upon our very creation, we are all destined to die. Why not try to have a little fun with it just so long as we don’t go around pissing each other other off?

Okay, its time I put a diaper on this stream of thought and get back to my story* again…

*(The next installment for my character named the Puppy Kicker)

December 4 2018

Rejection and Deflection

Rejection is painful.

It comes in many forms. Being let go from a job. A friend ghosting you. It can even haunt your dreams.

So I woke up this morning at around 4:30 am, a full hour before my alarm was set to go off. I was “pissed”. I looked over at my sleeping wife and wanted to punch her in the nuts. Yes, she lacks that particular part of human anatomy, but you get the idea. She had just “dumped me” in my dream.

Upon being more coherent of just how early and dark everything was, the rational side of my (*squirrel!) started interjecting on my emotional self. I rolled over onto my back thinking I could focus on what had just happened when the urge to relieve my bladder making itself known.

I stumble up out of bed, wood and all, and make my way into the bathroom. I know women probably have it worse when it comes to biological issues but trying to pee into a toilet while at attention really sucks. I manage to sit my ass down and lean forward so that I’m almost touching the ground with my face so that my soldier is able to deflect its flow downward and into the bowl. It’s not comfortable by any means and borders on being painful. Compared to bleeding out of your crotch for a week every month, its a small price to pay.

Finished, I head back into bed. No sooner than I slide back in and onto my back again does, not one, but two cats pounce on me hoping to get some attention. I start petting them and doing some more reflecting on my dream as the two knuckleheads begin trying to abscond with the hand that is petting the other thinking they can each get double the attention.

Idiots.

As I start recalling more of my dream, I begin placing the various parts of it back together and as to why it stung so much. Back in high school, I dated a girl for two years, I will call her Lenna. The house that my wife and I shared in my dream was reminiscent of Lenna’s parent’s house. Even today, as I’m 30 years past that event, I still have an emotional connection to that house. What was even wilder, was that my wife and I were on a trampoline in the backyard. One that, upon further reflection, was similar to the one Lenna chose to break up with me upon at a mutual friend’s house.

So who’s the idiot now? Apparently me. Yeah, I know you can’t control your dreams but the emotions I felt were so vivid and raw. I tried pondering why my subconscious mind would screw me over with a dream like that and the only thing I could come up with was that I might be (hormonally?) unbalanced right now.

Hey ladies, you can keep that bleeding emotional unbalanced stuff, I really don’t mind leaning forward to deflect my pee.

November 28 2018

Today’s Story – The Price of Iron

Yes, it’s (The Iron Price) a rip of “the phrase” from GoT. I needed an idea to start the story and this what I used as my starting point. There shouldn’t be any further connection beyond the tagline.

 

***

The Price of Iron

 

Will didn’t want to join the space marines, at least not at first. He was on vacation in the Alps when the carbon scored iron chunk broke through the Earth’s atmosphere and obliterated Rio De Janeiro. His soul, along with everything he had ever cared about, died that day.

Globules of spittle flew out of the drill sergeant mouth, “You are all a bunch of fucking retards!” The sergeant, having found another victim, leaned in closer towards private Spencer. Private Spencer couldn’t but help start blinking as the sergeant’s continued verbal barrage rained onto his face and seeped into his eyes.

The sergeant noted the reaction and with a grin only reserved for true Sith lords, asked, “Am I making you uncomfortable Spencer?”

Spencer started to nod but Will, who was laying on his back due to his own transgression, tapped the back of Spencer’s calf with the toe of his boot.

The drill sergeant, having caught the motion of Will’s foot from his peripheral vision, spun on him. “You got something to say private Armond?”

Will, still straight-arming his partially assembled weapon over his chest, replied, “No drill sergeant!”

The sergeant stepped away from Spencer and stood over Armond’s chest so that his crotch was centimeters from Will’s elevated weapon. “I saw you tap your boot into the side of Spencer’s leg. You are either clumsy or a liar. We can’t have clumsy in the marine core. You could cause the unwonted deaths of marines. What’s worse than the killing of marines? A liar.” He looked up and around at the rest of the platoon who were still working on assembling their weapons. “A liar is the worst kind of scum there is, short of being a Dessloc. Desslocs are sneaky fuckers who throw whole mountains down and destroy cities like Rio De Janeiro. He looked back down at met Will’s horrid stare. “Yes, I read your file private Armond. I know all about why you are here.” He reached out and slapped the weapon from Will’s grasp. It struck the floor above his head and further disassembled itself. “You dropped your weapon private Armond, how clumsy of you.” The sergeant stepped off and moved down the length of the barracks. “You have KP duty for the next seven nights.”

Will wanted to jump up and beat the fuckers ass. How dare he use the death of his family like that. His mind was fuming with rage. He was on the verge of tackling the fucker and beating him to with an inch of his life.

The sergeant called back, “Now get up and finish putting your weapon together before you really piss me off.” He then changed course and headed towards the latrine. “Seems as if I need to use the head. By the time I get back out, I expect you all to finish having put your weapons back together… or else.”

Once the sergeant was out of earshot, Spencer now feverishly working on assembling his weapon, said, “Is it true? You’re from Rio?”

Armond said, “I’m not discussing it.”

A moment of silence went between them until the sound of a gaseous release of a bowel movement echoed out from the latrine area.

Spencer said, “What are you still doing on your back? He is going to bust your ass.”

Armond knew that he hadn’t been given permission to get up again. He had seen other squad-mates fall for double contradicting orders given by the training cadre. At least this way, even with his arms still extended, he was relaxing on his back.

“Do you want me to get you your weapon?”

Armond shook his head as he said, “No. He is setting me up again. I’m going to take it and not pull any of you into this.”

Spencer went silent but then asked, “Then why did you tap my leg, if you didn’t want to get involved?”

Another round of explosions echoed out from the latrine. It was followed by the sergeant yelling out, “Yippie ki yay mother fuckers!”

Will didn’t want to ponder the question. He was still too frazzled. A part of him also suspected that some part of him had survived that day, and it scared him.

 

 

 

November 9 2018

Looking for a Critique Partner

Did you find this site?

Are you stupid (enough to want to swap stories with me)?

 

I have a sadistic sense of humor which bleeds through like a twelve-year-old girl experiencing her first period in the middle of her math class.

 

Have a thirst for some ‘bleeding edge’ sharing?

(yeah, I’m a bad man)

 

 

Email me

T.h.e.W.r.i.t.e.D.a.v.e(at)g.m.a.i.l(dot)c.o.m

Just withhold the “periods”

 

November 5 2018

NaNoNoWriMo 2018 …

So I’m not doing it this year. I also didn’t do it last year (2017). I don’t recall if I did it in 2016? I do know that I did it in 2014 & 2015 and completed my 50K+ words days ahead of schedule.

This year? I’m taking a CompTIA Security+ class and it’s kicking my ass. I should be studying it right now but the muse of daydreams has my attention. I am her little bitch.

I know I haven’t put much attention into my blog or my writings over the past year. It’s just that my life has changed (again) and I no longer have the resources I once had. Sure I work four ten hour shifts a week but with my daughter being a lazy ass, and my son emulating her, most of my time is spent on damage control. It often results in doing what I can, which is never enough, and bringing my wife glasses bottles of wine.

Sanity?

I used to have my morning hour heading into work when I worked downtown. Now? I actually have more time, only its not regulated by myself, it’s more of a damage control thing where I’m constantly bouncing around to whatever new fire needs attending. [Cartoonish voice] You can call me captain kangaroo [/]

I have a secret.

It only took me weeks to figure out too (yeah… I’m slow). My textbook has a review section at the end of each chapter on the topics covered within it. I’ve elected to start skipping reading the bulk of the chapters (got time?) and instead to just focus on the bullet points at the end. Anything I don’t understand already (Hey, I do know a couple of Tings, one was my late cat. She was a rescue import from Tialand, hence the name).

Speeling is for ed10t’s.

I have another admission. I recently purchased (digital content mind you) an album from my youth and I’ve been playing the crap out of. I haven’t heard it played continuously in since the early 90’s. Listening to it now is bringing back a flood of memories and emotions that were long dormant. Yeah, the local radio stations play songs off of it from time to time but it isn’t the same continuous flow that I remember.

The album? How well do you know me? Yeah, I can feel the rolling of your eye thoughts from here.

(Eye thoughts? WTF Dave?)

It’s Hysteria by Def Leppard.

Am I experiencing a Midlife crisis percolating its way up?

Oh, and I also bought myself a new toy for work today. The Silver Surfer action figure.

 

It is going to look nice sitting next to my already purchased Infinity Gauntlet.

 

 

Life is busy.

Life is chaotic

Life is…

 

 

Good.

 

 

 

🙂

 

 

By the way, did you catch the extra “no” in my title? It stands for “NO”.

I know, I’m really subtle.

October 24 2018

What I wrote today…

Blind Date

 

Having heard his name called, Edwin stepped forward and picked up his beverage from the counter. He brought it up to his face and even through the protective spill cover, he could feel the heat radiate upon his upper lip. Not thinking it through, he blew down upon the beverage instead of sipping.

He realized what he had done as his gut tensed up as he glanced about at everyone nearby to see if they had caught him in his folly. Nobody had seemed to notice.

He hated blind dates.

Edwin walked over to the condiments counter and grabbed a couple of napkins before making his way to the seating area. He found an empty two chaired table seat that afforded him a good view of the entrance and parking lot.

Pulling out the chair, he cringed again as it scrapped across the tile floor in a grating sound. Several patrons lifted their heads to glance in the direction of the annoyance, to which he gave his best endearing smile and said, “Sorry.”

His mind contemplated his moving to another table and went about moving one table further down the length of the wall. This time he put his drink down onto the table and elected to lift his chair back instead of dragging it.

Feeling confident over his small victory, he plopped himself down into his seat.

He allowed himself to exhale. It was deeper than he realized as that too seemed to cause those around him to glance once more in his direction. He gave another smile, more forced this time, and said, “Sorry.”

He reached into his fleece blue jackets breast pocket and pulled out his mobile device. He placed it upon counter before him after noticing that he didn’t have any blinking lights telling him of some update. He prayed she didn’t flake on him. Edwin felt a tickle starting in the back of his throat and brought his coffee up to his mouth as he remembered it might be too hot still. His hand felt the warmth seeping through the cardboard carrying ring and held off long enough to catch a new notification flash on his device.

He put his coffee down and reached for the device. With his free hand, he reached for one of his napkins and fumbled bringing it before his mouth to cover his cough.

Flicking the unlock pattern he saw that he had received a new text message from Janelle. His mind feared this was it, she would flake on him.

He hated blind dates.

Edwin decided right then and there and if she did flake he was going to find some way at getting back at his coworker Charlotte for setting him up for another disaster. The last person he had tried dating, he had met online through an app. That had been one of the strangest dates he had ever experienced. Cotton candy was now, and forever more, ruined for him.

His device flashed again and that brought him back into the moment. He clicked on the small icon and read the message.

[Are you still planning on meeting me?]

The second message said [I don’t need a person who plays games]

Placing his coffee down again he fumbled out his reply [Yeah i’ll be there. I’m not the type to place games]

Place? He cursed his typo. Stupid dude, stupid. [I meant PLAY games]

He stared at his phone and awaited a response. Time ticked by and after what seemed like a minute he glanced away from his phone and glanced towards the parking lot again to take stock of the vehicles already there.

He was early. Far too early. They had agreed to meet in not for another half hour but Edwin hated being late. He also wanted to get a feel for her and see if she raised the hairs on the back of his neck. Yes, it was a game but the last chick had ruined cotton candy for him. It had taken him these past six months trying to come to terms with that. Was it game if it was out of a need of self-preservation? Was it game if it didn’t affect her, that is presuming she was normal-ish? He didn’t think so. He missed cotton candy.