Stop Loss

Whoa man I missed some time there, missed some posts there I apologize. 

It was crazy the weekend and I didn’t have a free moment. I went home and tried to observe my family. It was utter insanity what went on there and how I was able to ignore it for years. I don’t know how I’ll get the strength to confront it.

Then I saw Tool yesterday. I’ll tell you about it later.

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Tired

I am really tired of posting every day. Who can do this? On the surface it seems simple. Just fucking write something. I love writing so it should be easy. But some days just seem meant to pass without writing anything. Or at the very least not writing something for other people. Plus my wife doesn’t know about it so I can’t be like oh I have to go write my blog for a minute on our days off. Right now she’s showing me pictures of sea monsters and I’m pretending to be doing nothing. 

Word Hangover

Dude I got so many posts coming out of me right now, it feels like I drank too many words last night. Many too many words last night. Shit to be honest I was losing my voice last night, talking about the goddamn specials all the time. It’s funny because I would usually lie about that.

Mother fucking FUCK y’all I’m tired of fucking around all the time!

Nah just kiddin’ y’all that’s what I DO.

Anyway I got a new plan, it has to do with slippers. I lay in my bed, typing shit, and whenever I get out of bed, I put the slippers on.

So my feet don’t get cold and I don’t step on cat shit absorbing crumbs.

If I fall asleep while typing, which I usually do any time I actually try to write fiction, no big deal, it looks like I did it on purpose.

I’m going out tonight, y’all, maybe for the last time…

I’m going to try to maintain control! That’s something I never done before.

Get ready for tomorrow’s super ashamed what have I fucking DONE post yo! It’s going to be very similar to everything you’ve ever read on here before! You goin’ be like damn why do I still read this shittttt and I’m going to be like becAWWWZ you so CRAZY! Me and you both we can’t stop doing this same shit yo!

Yay! Oh Man How WONDERFUL!

Shit I considered going back on my promise to post once a day until the end of 2017. I must have been on drugs or something, no one needs this kind of aggravation every day.

But I never do anything that I say I’m going to do and I usually feel bad about that so I’m making a mother fuckin change y’all.

I’m going to post today! Yeah! Fuckin A!

Sweet!

What do I even care. If my blog got popular I could never cash in on it anyways or else people would know it was me. What do you think I have some kind of artistic integrity or some shit? Hell no, fuck, most of these posts took as much time to write as they did to type because I did both at the same time. Who cares with this theme I can say anything and it looks great. Most of y’all don’t even know that because you read in the WordPress Reader, which is exactly what I do. I don’t know what the hell kind of weird themes you people are using.

Well I have to go to work now!

Stop feeling guilty all the time! You didn’t do anything wrong!

This Weather Gives Me the Creeps

I wrote a short short story on Hijacked Amygdala today. You can read it here.

While you’re there, check out this new piece by Candice Daquin: Such is the Inequality of Them.

I remembered I liked blogging today around 2:15. I was in or around a grocery store. Today I had a mango and peach smoothie for the first time. I do not frequent juice shops. Today I put on shoes and tied them as well. I ate salt and vinegar potato chips, even though they are very disgusting.

Why do I like blogging again? I guess I have been writing long pieces of fiction for a long time and have not gotten very far with them. Maybe I should stop trying. I get so bored! And I always feel like I am wasting time on the wrong thing. I can never pick one thing.

Fuck it! Sometimes you try to be so serious and you try to be an adult. Man that is fucking dumb as hell! Fuck that shit! That shit was created by Madison Avenue to sell strollers!

Shit man what a life. I’m going to make margaritas because let’s talk about this weather, huh. Man this weather! Gives me the creeps.

Damn, homie!

Fuck first drafts, too! But even more, fuck second drafts. Like a dog returning to it’s vomit. Fuck all that shit! Be dead by the time you finish that second draft. Shit’s like an ice sculpture. It looked fine the first time, and besides, people weren’t expecting all that much anyway, it’s made out of fucking ice for christ sake! Then you go back to it to fix it up and you’re like why this shit all melty? Sumbitch shoulda known leave well enough alone!

This blog ain’t about the archives anyway! Shit! Nobody gives a damn what you wrote in March when the leaves are turning orange and shit.

Yeah man, shit. Have a drink! It’s nearly five o’clock. Let’s talk about the ISSUES. The issue is everything is arbitrary, so arbitrary!

Man I drank some iced tea that shit gave me heartburn.

Writer’s Toolbox: Pliers

I am writing this story about too many characters who are indistinguishable from one another trying to get a hold of this thing called the “Pilgrim’s Stone.” I write it for fifteen minutes a day. I’ve been writing for a few weeks. It’s 12,000 words long and I don’t read it before I write more […]

http://conceitedcrusade.com/2016/03/26/writers-toolbox-pliers/

I’ll need a few posts to get back in the rhythm of this thing, but I’m trying to post every day. At least for a week. Then we’ll see what’s up.

I’m in that same park where I saw those squirrels and that pigeon. Some people say it’s not a park, but it says park right on the gate. Some people call it a gated area. 

But Jesus Christ it’s loud as fuck in here how can I get anything done? I should have brought my goddamn headphones. I should always bring my goddamn headphones, what was I thinking?

Work is right across the street. I’m on a double again. I’m always on a double. Morning and night, son of a bitch.

Now a mother fucker from work just sent me a text asking me to get him a Reese’s peanut butter cup. Can you believe that shit? Who’s even eating peanut butter cups around here?

This mother fucker, that’s who. He’s always eating candy. He’s a candy eating mother fucker if I ever seen one and I have seen one. It’s him.

God damn it, crazy ass mother fuckers around here asking for too much. All I’m trying to do is sit down in a noisy ass gated area with pigeons and shit and write a goddamn blog post.

Can’t even do it though. It’s the first day in New York City this year that the temperature has reached 70 degrees Farenheit so the world is out in battalion level numbers. What does that mean? I don’t know, but it ain’t fucking civilized I’ll tell you that.

Then this mother fucker next to me pulls out his phone and starts talking into it in a voice straight from the underworld speaking some old accursed language and his voice is so low this whole goddamn bench is shaking. It’s scary as fuck to be honest. To be honest I got to go I can’t sit here no more like this. I got to go if I still can.

I Don’t Know What to Say

Lately I am at a loss as to what to write on this blog. I have been writing at least a thousand words a day since I started that story, what is it, seventeen days ago? Today I wrote four thousand words of fiction in four hours. I’m up to just under twenty thousand words on the story. And I’m nearly finished with the badger story I was talking about before. But I haven’t been writing much diary stuff. Maybe it’s good. I don’t know, shit I really don’t know what to write on here because I want to write something meaningful or entertaining and I can’t think of how to do either. I started to write like four other times a post on this blog about nothing and then I just deleted it because who wants to just write drivel but then it’s been a week and nothing has been posted so…this shit is just going to dry up then? What? Then I thought I’ll start a blog that actually has a point but I couldn’t think of anything like that at all. Maybe it will all come back to me eventually. Or not. I want pie.

Leftover Turkey

God damn I thought my fingers were tired when I was writing that shit. I wrote about 1100 words about a ridiculous scenario involving a turtle, a tornado, and a reincarnation of Crazy Horse the Lakota warrior. And then my fingers were so cold and it felt like I could hardly move them. And then Wife got home and asks me to pick the meat off of this giant turkey she brought home from her parents. Good God, that shit was ridiculous. So she’s sitting there doing her schoolwork and I am pulling grease and overcooked meat from this skeleton and putting shit in different bowls and wiping the counter. Shit was disgusting.

Took me a god damn hour to do that. Doesn’t matter, really, because what else was I going to do, but I wanted to just sit there writing. Instead I’m jamming my fingers in nasty ass crevices and getting fresh gelatin everywhere.

But I did manage the thousand words and now I’m actually up to 6500 words, and that’s four days on the same project. My goal is to have a good looking draft by the end of the year.

As for the blog, I am getting close to my goal of 200 posts. I think I can hit 200 by the first week of December really. So I’ll shoot for 250 by the end of the year.

Damn I am hungry. Did I mention all I ate today was mashed potatoes on a defrosted sub roll? I threw some gravy on that shit to make it palatable. But I ain’t mad at that, or I wouldn’t be if we had somehow managed to eat before 10:30 PM.

Nah I’m okay.

I read some more of Anxious Decades which is about the US in the 1920s. I started reading it as research for a story based on the advice of Robert McKee, but I’ve since decided that he has no idea what he’s talking about and just wants to sell books about how to write shit without actually writing shit his damn self. That’s probably not true but that research takes a lot of time and I don’t have the stomach for time.

Man I Wrote a Lot of Words In the Past

Good morning.

Wow I have been doing this shit for longer than I thought. Writing, I mean. I mean I always feel older than i am, almost always, but I just realized I’m 28 and I’ve been trying seriously to write a novel since I was 19, and that’s if you don’t count all those ones from grade school. And that one in high school. I got pretty far on that one from high school and it was horrible. And the funny thing about that, just thinking about it now, is that I had these really elaborate characters and I spent forty pages bringing them together and then stopped because what the hell were they going to do now? That’s weird, forgot that I even did that shit.

And similarly I forgot that I have been trying to have a successful blog since age 23.

Last night I was reading through my old documents folder looking for Carl Sagan’s Cosmos, which they used to have on Netflix but then they pulled it and I had to download it. Man I have a shit ton of documents. I have written a million beginnings of stories.

This morning I woke up in a god damned inferno. I turned the heater on last night to like 63 degrees (17 in celsius) and then I woke up this morning and that shit was blasting hot enough to overcome the magnetic repulsion of atomic nuclei.

I didn’t find Cosmos on my computer but I found episode 9 – The Lives of the Stars on youtube. Man that shit is outrageous.

Well, forty minutes here before I have to go to work. I don’t feel sad again, though suddenly I’m broker than I thought I would be. Got paid this morning and it was a lot, 900 dollars, which is about how much I made at the old bartending job, but it wasn’t enough to pay all the bills and still have a comfortable margin. But of course that’s a lot of bullshit, since I put a hundred of it in savings. I never used to save money but I’m old now. Ha, actually I’m ballin out of control compared to those days I was reading about last night. When I was 23, I quit my broke ass no money making job to become a novelist. Yeah seriously! Holy shit what a crazy ass. I didn’t write shit but a lot of angry beta blog rants about how mother fuckers better pay me if they wanted me to keep writing. Hoo! Shit.

Woo and what’s more I ain’t dying out of cancer or incapacitated by tooth pain or incarcerated for reasons beyond my control nor am I in (serious) danger of getting ass raped when I walk out the door this morning. Shit is just about going my way out here.

I know for a lot of ya’ll, the day is half or more over, but enjoy what’s left of it.