I have bad days, sometimes. We all do. And, when I do, I try to—I don’t know—channel it toward something, at the very least. Turn sadness into anger, turn frustration into motion, somehow. It helps I walk a lot, it gives me an outlet (you really can outrun certain problems, believe it or not) but, ultimately, what makes me happy is making other people happy.
An inspiring speech, oddly, works wonders for the sake of my own morale. So, well, let’s go do such a thing, even if I’m distracted and riled up from a day that did not go as I planned. Continue reading
I’m guessing some would recommend I don’t write about this, but, well, you all know I’m eccentric as it is—so, fuck it. Writers already have the stigma of being a weird bunch, but you’ve heard, likely, all the usual shenanigans—so, I’m doing you one better.
Not just researching murder methods, talking to people who they make up, or being totally willing to do dangerous/stupid things for the sake of a story: nah, I’ve got a set of much more unique quirks.
And it involves words and language. Continue reading
Somehow, I always forget I have hay fever. I’m not sure how it slips my mind because it fucking sucks, but, recently I went outside and then sneezed—then sneezed again. And again. That was when I remembered. Ain’t allergy season fun? Continue reading
I like to automate. When I hit a problem with timing or effort, the question becomes: “Can I automate that? Can I make technology do that for me?” I am a transhumanist: it’s not odd I think that way, but what is funny is how often the answer is a resounding YES to those questions.
I guess the world is catching up to the proposed futures of the past. Smart plugs make my light turn on by my schedule. My scale records my weight for me. If I can make something give alerts or similar when events occur, then I am all for it.
Now, you might call me lazy. You might call me spoiled. You’re right on the first one, possibly right on the second. After all, I am a white male, cis-gendered, heterosexual living in America (also a little left-leaning, if you could not tell from that tongue twister), so I get access to some of the best stuff in the world—and I can get it delivered to my door.
And that’s spoiled.
That’s lazy. Continue reading
The last post that was not a piece of fiction from me was a tad on the depressing side, so, I figured I’d spin the mood around and deliver something happy while I sort out my shit.
Because, even if I talk like it is, complain, the world is not all darkness and fire—neither is it unicorns and the first bite of an apple on a summer evening as the sun goes down—but there are moments, even if they are fleeting, where one can raise their hands to the sky and say “this, this is the meaning of it all. Right here. Right now.” Continue reading
Had to leave town because of Hurricane Irma. Could not cook my own food in Chicago. Then, came back and discovered the loveliness of eggnog martinis and double espressos lattes.
But, turns out, coffee, all coffee, even just a little of the stuff, burns my stomach.
But, yeah, quitting it is difficult. So, that’s fun. Caffeine, you’re a cruel monster.
Then, after learning white wine is gross, and so are mimosas, and they give me cottonmouth, I caught what appeared to be the plague. A lot of Florida, and possibly more of the country, got this super nasty bug, and, for a little while, I did not feel like eating anything other than liquid.
So, I got good at protein shakes. Like, I made some mean drinks—if I may toot my own horn on my own blog.
But, after all that, after I came back to coffee after quitting and discovered I like cappuccinos more than even lattes: I had a horrible reality check.
I’d gained ten pounds. Continue reading
Oft-repeated statements highlighting the similarities of horror and comedy in terms of their emotional requirements and polarizing nature aside—there is something they have in common. Something only someone who experiences them a lot would know, or, at least, would know intimately. Continue reading
Writers are solitary creatures, but, I am increasingly social lately. And, in my “travels,” I’ve learned the accuracy of an oft-repeated statement: almost no one has their shit together. People may put on a good show, a front of calm and being collected, but everyone is scrambling and panicked—if only a little.
The most common sign of this I hear from people is sleep deprivation. I cannot believe how many of my fellow twenty-somethings sacrifice sleep. Continue reading
I am a writer, and with that title comes all these stereotypes about the way I might dress or act. And, while some of these are accurate, some are harmful or untrue. Writers are stereotypically alcoholics, for instance, and that does not apply to me—I barely touch the stuff.
But, then, we get to the other stereotypes, the more neutral ones. The stuff that’s not harmful, and more just a product of popular culture, and, it is here, with these, that I have an interesting relationship. Because, I don’t wear tweed or carry around a paper notebook (I have a phone, after all), and I don’t constantly wear a knapsack or a fedora. But, unlike the bad stereotypes, some of these generalities I feel tempted to adopt, even if they are clichés. Continue reading
Who said having in-depth knowledge of something is a necessary step to talking about it? And, yes, that’s satire, but, even if it makes me hypocritical, I’m doing it anyway. Because, it’s a new year, and the technological singularity is a thing that exists and will only exist more: so, I figured I’d go and tally up some technological innovations I expect to come into a more prominent place this year of 2018. Continue reading
(Originally Posted April 19th, 2017.)
I hate platitudes, don’t you? I feel like they bar the ability for someone to communicate actual helpful words. They are rote and glib and sound good as a soundbite, but often already occurred to the asker of help, so are thus useless.
There seems to be an almost universal box of platitudes for every occasion. Continue reading
(Originally Posted November 9th, 2016.)
*Brandon peeks up his head from a hiding hole. *
Is it over?
Did the world end yet?
No? Continue reading
(Originally Posted August 2nd, 2017.)
Did you know that Hitler, yes, that Hitler—history’s greatest monster—was a painter? That he was a creator of art?
It’s a bit of a head fuck.
But, no matter how odd to consider, this fact works as a good starting place for a discussion about something that has been bothering me for a long time. Also, I’m sorry to say, if you are reading this think piece and expecting an answer at the end then you are going to be disappointed. Continue reading
(Originally Posted Septemeber 13th, 2017.)
I don’t know of many creatives without some odd habits. And, with me, the most prominent and noticeable ones are my night owl tendencies and my relationship with jackets. I’ve talked about the night and my place in it before, but I’ve barely, if at all, discussed my jacket fixation, and I think it’s about time I fix that oversight. Because I goddamn love jackets. If I could comfortably sleep in a jacket I would—and don’t think I haven’t tried. Continue reading
(Originally posted July 19th, 2017.)
For a good part of my life, I weighed close to 300 pounds. I’m talking when I was a teenager. At the ages when such a thing, regardless of what’s taught and preached, easily marks you.
It got me scorn. Some people, people I didn’t even know, looked at me like I was fucking scum. I’m fortunate enough to know a lot of nice and kind people who didn’t—but yeah, still years of glares and critical eyes. Continue reading