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 |   The catch-all for items related to and/or inspired by the music that shaped me. |
Music has played a role in nearly every situation of my life. This is where I'll be collecting items inspired by those moments- poems, lyrics, blog entries- the soundtrack of me.  I may also contribute blog-style entries here from time to time:
And this month, I've decided to take part in... ![Merit Badge in Quill Award
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Congratulations on winning the 2017 Quill Award for Best Music for [Link To Item #2072393] . *^*Delight*^* See [Link To Item #quills] for more information.](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/group-Quill_Award-1375927_6.gif)    Best Blog |
  "What do you think are three things we're going to be hearing about a lot more as 2018 rolls on?"Man...all I'mma say is y'all knew what ya signed up for, or at least should've  . Existence exists and persists in part because we have to navigate the things that make us uncomfortable. Wasn't sure I was gonna bother writing an entry today...I've felt like shit all morning but it is what it is, and the world doesn't stop just because I don't wanna go, and it's the same with news cycles. Not wanting to be oversaturated by overwhelming news cycles doesn't make them go away; it's how we manage our intake that determines how and to what extent we react (if at all). So I dropped in on a couple entries already (since I was tagged in 'em), and it confirmed at least the notion that what I was likely to lend to this discussion wasn't gonna be much different than what anyone else had to say. On the surface, many of us have similar fears and opinions of the world we're facing. The connectivity we have as a world community makes a lot of what we know harder to avoid. But not talking about things doesn't make them go away; in fact, sometimes commiserating with like-minded individuals over similar thoughts often makes them more bearable. You feel less alone, knowing someone's heard your unique voice on the subject. There are things we're unfortunately not gonna be able to run away from this year. Remember, in the grand scheme social media is still relatively new and entering adolescence, along with how we maneuver in this climate. It's not the same environment our parents grew up in, where there was no other adjective besides genre-defining ones maybe before the word "media". We have more options, and thus more control over them. Not total power; there'll always be some asshole in the street you can't help but overhear, crying about something he or she knows/understands maybe 10% of but wants you to know they're 125% butthurt by it. And while it's practically impossible to know every slant and every detail on any given topic, ya gotta know something in order to know what to let slide and who to sit beside when everything's as terrible as your fears inevitably lead you to believe they are. Ok, all that said, here's three things we'll be dealing with one way or another, whether we like 'em or not... 1) President Babyhands will not get off his bullshit. No man has ever craved attention or drawn so much attention to himself as this guy has. He's got the ultimate platform and he's not afraid to use it. Because of his position, the media won't not cover him...the problem lies with our expectations of how a President is supposed to act. Elect a carnival-barkin' con artist, get all the decorum of lunchlady gossip. The news reports things they deem newsworthy; their first job isn't to say what's right or wrong but to inform, and your first job is parsing their credibility with your opinion and going from there. Having a place to start from is crucial to understanding this godforsaken year. Anyway, Trump is who he is at this point, and many of us tried to warn you, but until he seriously murders someone or gets us all to learn to love nuclear winter, we're stuck with him. He'll say some dumb shit, the news will report it, and millions will be generated in ad revenue from clicks on the thinkpieces that sprout up. Lather, rinse, repeat. And he's not going away (until he is), and the only good thing is when he does how much worse can it get? He's eroded civil discourse and public decency to all-time low minimums...me farting in a pastor's microphone would be a step up at this point. 2) Sexual Harassment isn't some new phenomenon. More names will come out, hopefully in more industries too...and yeah, I said "hopefully" because if this shit's gonna keep happening then people need to start being held accountable for it. Fucking words and actions have meanings. These jagoffs get a little power and a little money, and just can't seem to be content with that, and all the sudden it's a problem when someone won't roll over for them like someone else did...nope. And I get it...it's hard in many industries to know of a true and level playing field, but it's gotta start somewhere, and yes, there will always be those who work harder at trying to get around equality rather than putting in the work and accepting that things don't always go their way. The shitty actions of a few will always, unfailingly, ruin things for others...but until you understand what the victims had ruined for them, is it still going to continue to shock you when more names get named? I don't want this to go away because it's systemically ruined way too many lives for much, much longer than anyone's needed. 3) Things will actually start getting better, in general. I mean, they have to, right? Law Of Averages, and all that happy hoo-ha. As we start getting worn down and fatigued by all the bad things we're consistently being shoveled, our natural tendencies to self-correct will shift us in the direction of good news. We'll search out things that make us feel good, or at least better about humanity...and ideally, we'll appreciate them that much more because of all the dark shit we've seen and tried to run from. Curate your time to finding more positive things going on in the world; think of it as the last minute of the local news (before the weather recap) where they struggle to crap out something heartwarming, like animal adoptions or athletes visiting sick kids. Surround yourself with more outlets like that, and give of your time and energy when you can to promoting them.  Like, the Buffalo Bills made the playoffs this year for the first time in 17 seasons. A lot of things needed to happen going into the last game, including an underwhelming Cincinnati Bengals team beating another outside-looking-in team, the Baltimore Ravens. And yet, the Bengals pulled it off! So how did the legendary #BillsMafia  celebrate? They've donated over 170k so far to Andy Dalton's charity foundation (he's the Bengals' quarterback). That's some shit to feel good about...to make you proud you're a part of humanity. 
 Working out more details of eventually a long-term home for us displaced Soundtrackers (we miss you, Beth), but in the meantime Lyn's a sly fox  has stepped up for us. And I'm gonna try to talk about songs I haven't talked about before...like this one. It came up on the laptop while I was waiting for an app to load on the tablet, so it's a good place to start. Sure, it's a variation on a common thought in life: "If you're *obsessing about some bad thing*, then *it's happening right now*"...but it's something I think about on at least a semi-regular basis. There's a lot of shit in life I've resisted out of fear and chaos and pain and uncertainty, only to go through with it and do it and find it fine, if not pleasurable even. Fear and anxiety kill you. They kill your dreams, your ambitions, your future. They rob you of decent, normal day-to-days...selling them to the highest bidder on Craigslist so they can turn around and make someone else's life more miserable (and for a higher profit). But when you stay informed, keep yourself plugged in, and start to understand the whys and hows of the outrage segments of the population might have at different things on the news- educating yourself and having some empathy- then you're already one step ahead toward a solution and one moment saved from dying in isolation. "If You Fear Dying" -One Day As A Lion"Why would we ever let a few white Christian fictions shape our tomorrow following them? 'Cause tomorrow got a gun to its head?"   So, um, welcome to the "30-Day Blogging Challenge ON HIATUS" , ♥Hooves♥  ...#sorrynotsorry. Sometimes comments sections like the one in "Crystal Bull" just happen, ending up miles away from where they started. Part of why the 30DBC is consistently the bestest buncha bloggers on the planet   . Also, ** Image ID #2144977 Unavailable ** I...I don't know what else to say. That's all the entertainment I can share with you for now. I can't top that and trying to will only humiliate me, I think  . Peace, have the mic or the heater but you can't hold both, and GOODNIGHT NOW!! |
  "What is/was your favorite part of the New Year celebrations? Fireworks, music, highlights of the past year, getting together with friends?" What's up you guys? Welcome to 2018! Let's all stop and give thanks for a moment that the year hasn't been ruined yet by something petty and useless . One foot in front of the other. My NYE was...quiet. I'm pretty sure in fact that I was asleep before midnight, which was amazing because that means I slept through whatever fireworks the town decided to blow off (assuming they did, but it was like single-digit frigid here). I think this is the fifth New Years I've lived in Cortland, and I tend to forget that they do the whole fireworks and ball-drop downtown, even when I lived pretty much on the opposite corner of where they do it. Also, fireworks suck. Fight me. Also also, remember how 2016 sucked because of all the cool people who died and America turned into everyone's racist uncle who isn't even trying to hide it anymore? Turned out Cortland saw it coming, because we weren't even two days into the year and the 2016 sign was already broken.  But that's neither here nor there. I wanted to be pretty much left alone, and I got it  . Besides, most every news show and publication and website rolls out their yearly Best Of lists by like Thanksgiving now anyway, which is for me like the second-best part of another year falling into the abyss. By Christmas I've got "year-end fatigue" and I'm sick of reliving it. Where does the time go in between "This is gonna be a good year!" and "Shit, it's over already, and it was not a good year."?This all might sound like I'm miserable, but I'm not, I swear. And now I don't know if I'm trying to convince you, or me . "Tell us what annoys you most about yourself."Man, I don't even know where to begin. This is what I get for coming up with a prompt before I let others convince me that I should be joining them in the "30-Day Blogging Challenge ON HIATUS" fun. Which, it bears repeating: This has gotta be the best round ever in terms of people who have won or placed in previous rounds. When I saw the signups coming in I was awed...like a family reunion and you're all the cool cousins I don't get to hang out with anymore cuz of my shitty racist uncle, Life, that I was talking about in the previous segment. Ok, niceties aside...moving on...Yeah, pick all the different annoying things and write them on any wall in my apartment and spin me around, and the first wall I walk into is probably what's up my ass that day. As if walking into walls isn't annoying enough  . Yesterday it was my terrible relationship with food. The day before, it was my inability to socialize coupled with my hatred of almost everybody. Today, it's the fact that it's not even 2pm yet and I've already given up on the day pretty much, cuz I had things I wanted to do but it was snowing and dreary out and saying "fuck this" was a lot easier when I woke up than actually waiting things out with any degree of optimism. And the thing is, I don't think any of you are judging me over the shit I get annoyed at myself over; I just can't help it. Like, before I went to my mom's for Christmas, I cleaned out my fridge because I didn't wanna deal with skanky leftovers once I got home...only, I forgot about the lettuce I had in the vegetable drawer and thought of it a few times while I was gone. I've been home since Thursday. And by now that lettuce probably looks like Frosty The Snowman took a dump in that drawer and went merrily on Christmas-ing everywhere else. What am I doing about it? Telling you about it. And I'll probably forget about it the next six times I'm up and poking around in the fridge, only to remind myself about it once I'm safely tucked into my bed for the night. Why? No idea. Not like some of y'all don't have science experiments goin' on in your refrigerators! But I'm outraged, and also outraged at my lack of doing the right thing about it. Why are we so flawed that we get upset at ourselves about things 99% of the people who love us wouldn't give a fuck about? Maybe we're good people most of the time, except for that one time we didn't realize we weren't, and yet that's all we remember? Now I feel like I'm living in a cycle of perpetual self-annoyance, which is also this annoying thing I do to myself. Thanks a lot, you guys . Glad to be back with all y'all. "No One Loves Me & Neither Do I" -Them Crooked Vultures"And I said, 'no one loves me, neither do I'. It makes perfect sense, so I never ask why."  Ok, I know it's not true so don't remind me. Maybe it's just a "current mood" type of thing. Also, it's probably a good thing I'm seeing my therapist this week . Nothing makes you question the questioning of your self-diagnosed deficiencies like a trip to the mental health clinic!  Current reading: The Subtle Art Of Not Giving A Fuck by Mark Manson. Cuz oh, ya know...just sittin' here workin' on myself .  Guys! Go bid on stuff here! All kindsa cool stuff...like, I just moved into an apartment in November (kinda a big deal, that) and my walls are pretty bare, so I'm angling for some artwork this time. But you can get handwritten poems and stories, cards, physical MBs, books...all from WDC friends!
 And finally, if you're neurotic like me, let's all laugh at our anxiety like the insane bastards we (probably) aren't. That's enough outta me for today, you guys. I swear I'm not really that miserable. I just don't know to what degree yet I'm also lying about it . Thanks for playin'! Peace, you're gonna lose control, and GOODNIGHT NOW!! |
 "As Seen On TV: Write a script for a late-night infomercial — where the product is your blog. How do you market yourself? What qualities do you embody that other 'products' don’t? What are the benefits of reading your blog?"Ah, you guys! My people! How's everybody's days been? Good I hope. Not that I can do anything about that, but what the hell...I'm here and you're here, so we may as well give it a shot, right? Because I sorta like most of y'all, I'm not gonna lie...I kinda like me a good, trashy infomercial. Having insomnia and no cable in the pre-internet days meant limited 3am television viewing options, so it made sense for me to get acquainted with the likes of Billy Mays and Vince Offer and the boys. These cartoonish nutjobs, doing their best to be men who've had it doing menial tasks the boring, old fashioned way, took it upon themselves to hawk a contraption meant to add more steps make life even easier, all for a low, low price as long as you CALL NOW!! That's good time- and brain-killing tv watching, y'all...BUT WAIT! THERE'S MORE!! And the hook was always that...get a second one of something you don't need for half the price, using money five minutes prior you hadn't intended on parting with! Shipping, of course, pretty much ate up that difference, but who cares? Now you've got two buttscratchers for the price of IDGAF. I'll betchya that when Jesus and the GOP invented the tee-vee, they never imagined a day when programming of questionable quality could be combined with products of questionable quality in an effort to divorce you of your hard-earned Lincolns and Jacksons (those wages gained no doubt from employment at the Buttscratcher Factory and after paying your Local 069 Buttscratcher's Union dues).But here's the thing (there's always a thing): Writing a script? I'm not in the mood for it right now, to be honest. I love this prompt but my head's in a million other places right now. I could totally see myself hawking some silly blog all "Infomercial Guy" style, with one of those cheap hands-free headsets talking to a studio crowd, waving my hands like I'm putting out imaginary fires to my left and right simultaneously, and taking a *wink wink* volunteer out of the studio audience for random hi-jinks...all in between prerecorded testimonial footage about how some old lady read my entries to her comatose husband and they snapped him out of it, or little Susie down the street using it to coax her cat out of a tree (thus giving the firefighters more time to put out those imaginary fires I was just talkin' about), or lordy be could you imagine that Howie the Hobo from the dumpster behind the 7-11 turned his life around once he read all the advice I'm not qualified to give out and started going out with new women each night ? Good christ, if I actually felt like writing a decent script, I'd say there's half of it right there! One half-hour of an insomniac's wet dream, ladies and gentlemen...that's why I'm a Premium Member of WDC (free shameless plug for the imaginary partner here  ). What else? Let's see...this product will basically last forever, with no upkeep on the user's end. Like, literally for-eeeevvv-errrrr . You can't front on that. And as anyone who's familiar with this fat slab of internet bacon can testify, the benefits of this product are multi-fold, which is a fancy way of saying numerous that I'm sure wasn't an expression at all three-point-six-nine nice minutes ago, and is also curious relating to something that is physically impossible to fold once, let alone multi times. Wow, this might be one of the most ridiculous paragraphs in all my too many years of blogging...let's move on and wrap this segment up. I'm tellin' you guys...there's no shame in wasting some time watchin' infomercials. There's always some cool-ass shit that makes you feel dumb for not thinking of it first so you could be the one makin' stupid money off it, and the three weeks that product actually works after you've bought it are seriously the three best weeks of your life (says the man who has never been married or had kids ). What I'm trying to say to you- what I'm really trying to do here- is this: Lower your expectations. You're not watching this garbage to learn something or enrich your social status or somethin' like that; you're watching this because the four other channels out of however many your television provider offers you that you normally watch have something even less interesting on, and you're really hoping your life isn't so bad that you fail to accomplish the simplest of tasks in a reasonable manner, or don't look so incompetent and flustered when you do.  “Hearts are breakable," Isabelle said. "And I think even when you heal, you're never what you were before.” -Cassandra Clare, City of Fallen Angels "How true is this quote? Do you think total healing isn’t possible once your heart is broken?"Huh...ya know, all this time I just thought we all assumed we knew once we got our heart broken, sure it'd heal and all, but nope nope nope, there's no goin' back to who we were before. You can't unring a bell, or put the toothpaste back in the tube, or any other metaphor for attempting to glue back together a shattered glass after you dropped it on the floor and expect to drink out of it without swallowing some shards and dribbling the cheap Merlot you bought to drown your sorrows all over your clumsy stupid hand.  As a veteran of several broken hearts, I can assure you once and for fucking all that this Cassandra person is 1000% accurate. It's basically that "Butterfly Effect" that you've heard mentioned before, and this is for the people in the back who are looking at each other like "Huh, Butterfly Effect? Whaaaat?!": Basically, if a butterfly lands on an elephant's nose in Africa and it sits there for five seconds instead of eight, the elephant gets angry and chases off the prowling lion. The lion runs into a less-wooded area, where it gets shot by Donald Trump Jr. and his rich scumbag trophy hunter buddies. You hear this on the news in the US, causing you to pause an extra two minutes in front of the tv before heading out to the bar to get shitfaced with your homies, and the news horrifies you and makes your disdain for humanity as a whole that much darker and deeper...and that two minutes spares you of the car that was gonna hit you once you stepped off the curb because of the driver's recklessness. When you arrive at the bar you're sullen and chicks dig sullen guys until they've decided three minutes later your sullen, shitty attitude is no longer attractive, and you end up dying alone just like all the houseplants you've forgotten to water but are too lazy to get rid of. See? Everything counts, one way or another. You can't undo all the memories you've experienced with a person. You can throw out belongings and burn pictures and scratch over their phone numbers in barroom bathroom stalls, but the imprints etched on your soul are there forever to some (often varying) degree. Like infomercials in the previous segment, they're there and you can't really do much about 'em; it's up to you how much of you you're willing to indulge them with.  "I saw a werewolf with a Chinese menu in his hand, walking through the streets of Soho in the rain. He was looking for the place called Lee Ho Fook's; Gonna get a big dish of beef chow mein. Aa-hooo! Werewolves of London! Aa-hooo!" "Werewolves Of London" -Warren Zevon  "It's up to you to tell the rest of the story; I can't wait to read what happens next."First, let's refresh ourselves: Werewolves are shady, in my opinion. Possibly the shadiest of all the stereotypical Halloween-type creatures (and save your Teen Wolf nostalgia nonsense for someone who isn't grounded in reality  ); they'll talk a good game while they're pickin' your pockets, I'll bet. They're probably ridden with STDs and have banged all your friends except the one who really wants to hook up with one, and all your friends have warned you about them but you don't listen because you're stupid and have worked the blatant art of making mistakes into your daily lifestyle to the point where you can no longer function unless you're wondering how it is you constantly fuck everything up like a mayor. So when he (and why are werewolves always a he? Someone needs to research this and/or introduce some lady werewolves into modern-day folklore, because men deserve having their hearts ripped to shreds by them too) offers to meet you at a nice-but-not-too-nice Chinese restaurant, your dumb ass is literally trippin' over your trimmed-up landing strip of pubes to say "Yes, of course, and have all my half-werewolf babies, you sexy-ass sumbitch!"And that's when it starts. He *finger-quotes* forgot his wallet, so you have to pay for dinner and drinks (and yo, him ordering piña coladas shoulda been your first red flag, buuuuut...). By then your defenses are down, and you become *that couple* makin' out at the bar at 9:30pm on a Tuesday like silly horned-up teenagers. When it comes time to get out of there because his instincts are kickin' in and your hormones are a 13 on a scale of 1 to 10, he suggests your place because he *again, finger quotes* hasn't had time to properly clean up and didn't expect a lady to be comin' over, and you gummily accept his self-imposed invite like a complete, utter dolt. There's nothing more pathetic than a lovestruck fool who's too blind to the consequences of their actions. You get back to your crib and you're goin' at it as soon as the door clicks shut behind you. Everything feels soooo...familiar. The scents, the breathy grunts and sighs, the way everything he whisper-says sounds like a sneer, the placement of all the silver bullet scars from the many attempts on his life...but you don't care. Craven you needs the comfort of a familiar touch. And it's been too long. The next morning you wake up and before you can even open your eyes, the last evening blurs through your mind as you attempt to piece it together from fragments while your head pounds and your breath feels like sand going down your throat and into your lungs. The last remnants of familiarity with this creature expose themselves with each choked-out snore. You attempt to gather yourself mentally as he rolls over, and when his eyes slowly open all you can say is "Good morning, sweetie...would you like some coffee?" "Sure," he says, "and bring me the newspaper. I need to call and cancel that personal ad I took out for you to meet me at the Chinese place, like in that 'Piña Colada' song...what a dumb song! Catchy though; I can never get it out of my head. And while you're up..." The toilet flushes and you realize why it is you want him out of your life so much. "And while you're up, you need to clean all your god damn hair out of the drain! Every friggin' day, I swear-" but you're interrupted by a blast and a shattering of glass, followed by a large thud. "They finally got him," you think to yourself, and exhale a little, "and it's about damn time. For all the money I spend on silver bullets and snipers, he shoulda been dead 13 times over already." But as you walk in on a dying werewolf, you can't keep your heart from sinking into your stomach. For all his faults and flaws (and there are too fucking many to list in this blog entry, which is long enough as it is already), you loved him. You really, really loved that hairy bastard. And then like the soulless twat you are, you shrug and think, "Eh, it's October...there are plenty of other werewolves out there lookin' for this hot piece of ass!". After smacking yourself on the rear end for effect and reminding yourself you still got it, you decide this weekend will include a "girls night" so you can find his replacement.  I'm posting this mainly for Lyn's a sly fox because she runs "Love Shouldn't Hurt" , which is an amazing group dedicated to giving a voice to victims of all types of abuse...I've read a couple articles already about Rupi Kaur, who's basically an Instagram poet (speaking of which...I've just joined that place recently for no good reason and I don't understand it or me, but if you wanna follow me they call me Fivesixer over there too), and she's recently published a book of her meme-poems. Personally, some of them are pretty basic and aren't great, but there's definitely a market for them out there...and as someone who has written about pain and abuse she has opened up a lot of people to her work by exposing it in non-traditional means first (obviously through social media and stuff). So Lyn (and anyone else reading this), check her out if you haven't already, because you might find her interesting.  And finally, it's funny how earlier in this entry we discussed the As Seen On TV aspect of blog promotion...I was going through my Pocket app looking for cool stuff and I recently saved this Mental Floss article about the ShamWow guy, Vince ( more proof I need to stay off the internet- period- after I've taken my late-night "Get Yo Ass To Sleep" meds). He...is not a good person, actually, but that's another story for another time (or a previous time, as I'm almost 94% sure I've written about him before, but I'm too lazy to look up the entry right now ). But M_F can always be counted on for useless tidbits of info like that...that's what I'm really tryin' to say . Wow, soooo...this entry got a little crazy today. #SorryNotSorry y'all...you'll have that, minus a money-back guarantee. But thanks for playin' and be sure to tell all your friends. Hope you enjoyed this as much as I'm wondering if I should've bothered. Peace, I saw Lon Chaney, and GOODNIGHT NOW!! |
 "Bloggers unplugged...sometimes, we all need a break from those little glowing boxes. How do you know it's time to unplug? What do you do to make it happen?"You guys!! It's been so long since I "plugged in", I've forgotten what it feels like to have the want/need to unplug. But I keep telling Kit of House Lannister  I'll write a blog entry again at some point, and almost did the other day (that's what I get for promising myself things right before going to bed ...cleaned out my inbox and specifically did not delete a prompt I wanted to use and then...forgot  ). But I figured since this thing people like reading when I actually do write in it was nominated for some sort of important thing ("Invalid Item" ), it's high time I start padding the stats making it worth somebody's- anybody's- worthwhile . And what better way to start than by discussing how to do the opposite of start? Any number of reasons can trigger this need to unplug. Time constraints, real-life situations, lack of feeling fulfilled, and every excuse in the book- you name it. They all contribute in some way, and I'm no different. I get all those things, and I get all those things. Sometimes I'll see a prompt I like (y'all know I'm heavily prompt-dependent ) but don't have the time to write an entry the way I'd prefer to write one...I'm, ummmm, well, I'm not a perfectionist, but I have standards when it comes to this, and if I don't feel like I can live up to them or do the prompt and my response justice, I'll move on with my day/life. That's it in a nutshell . I sorta accidentally made it my life's purpose when writing to be entertaining; sometimes it comes easily to me and some days it simply does not...when I was blogging more frequently I used to have to work pretty hard to make a prompt work for me, and supplement it with fun, entertaining shit. I've learned that if I can't do that quickly, you and I are both better served by me not bothering. Real life nonsense...that too can totally interfere with your mojo. It's funny how I seemingly think I have all the time in the world, and it might even look like I do...but I don't. I'm not working and not going to school, so where the fuck does my time go?? I wish I knew. I don't have a good answer for that. I'm a creature of routines, and when blogging slips out of that routine and gets replaced by real life bullshit, sometimes it's hard to get that stuffed back into the mix. Like, my time's about to get cut sort again real soon if things go my way and I end up moving next month (yep, next month, as I just learned today...actually, more like a couple weeks)...might be a few days without internet, plus setting up a new apartment and all that happy hoo-ha. Yay on one hand, nay on the other. For reasons I don't need to get into right now, but necessary. I can blog all the hell I want, but if I can't get online, that's like leaving the Ferrari in the driveway with an empty tank of gas. Or something. I don't have a car, so that's a stupid analogy. But you (hopefully) get where I'm goin' with that. Ugh...terrible word choice, again  . And burnout...holy fuck is burnout real and alive and passionately hellbent on me not enjoying things I once lived for! Right around the same time I was feeling like writing a blog entry was exhausting me mentally, I won a freakin' Quill Award for it. So let's circle back around to expectations...when people like what you do, naturally they want you to keep doing more of it. But when what you do is wearing you out, you have to fucking treat yo'self to the word "no". You are always going to be your best advocate, and when something is working against you- even if it's your own head- you need to back the fuck away. Hilarious (to me) side anecdote: just as I started typing up the beginnings of this entry, I got an IM from ~ Aqua ~  about a poem, and I was like "I'm just about to start a blog entry..." and she was like "You're the blog-*somethingsomethingIforgetmaybemaster*, after all..." and in my head I'm like "Ain't wrote a damn blog entry in like five months or so..."...but that's how a lot of people know me. Boggles my mind! But here's the thing: You have to block out other people's expectations. My mom would ask me, "You're not writing in your blog anymore?" and Kit would subtly try and cajole me from time to time. It's not about what other people want; it's what you're up to, and what you know and feels like is your capability of doing it, when you want to. I have very real days where I just can't, not the way I want to, or the way I've set myself up to doing it. Knowing yourself is a huge concept/concern...there's a state of love and trust between you and your readers, and between you and your work, and you don't want to violate either. It's not so much a conscious decision where you're like "how do I fill the void"- you'll find a way- but sometimes you just come to a conclusion where you simply cannot be present in the current time/place. In dating terms for all you millennials out there, you just ghost the scene. After all, blogging is an intimate act made public for the masses to pick over at their choosing...and if we're lucky, we know when it's time to walk away before the choice is given to us. Like anything in life, blogging can be very fluid and temperamental. Words that seemingly flow endlessly one day for something we know nothing about can dry up on our favorite subjects; sometimes it's our choice and sometimes it is not. I know this: It is harder to start back up than it is to stop, and you can put that on my last dollar. Also, blogging makes me realize how disgustingly filthy my laptop screen is. I'm looking at the ends of words like there's a punctuation typo, but it's literally just fucking dust, and if my backspace key could talk that's probably what it'd tell me . Naturally when I saw "unplug" in this prompt my brain went to the MTV Unplugged series from the 90's...and hardly anyone remembers 10,000 Maniacs, right? They were a group that was big in the late 80's-early 90's College Radio genre, and were from Jamestown, NY (not terribly far from where I grew up, but was too young to enjoy as a "local band"). Some of you might recognize Natalie Merchant (the singer) from her successful post-Maniacs solo career (plus OMG she's adorable )...I'd totally forgotten they'd done an Unplugged episode until this past summer when I came across the cd in a Dollar General store by my mom's, and then I was like "Ohhhhhh yeah, they did that" and it's mostly some cover tunes that got the airplay but yeah, they did some decent originals too. And it's the closest anyone from the Buffalo area who isn't annoying (hi, Goo Goo Dolls ) might get to being on MTV again until they really commit to playing some music. And you might be asking yourself "Norb, what does this have to do with the prompt?", but I can tell you...like I said, sometimes you just have to not unplug, and give 'em what they want.  Still getting over the loss yesterday of one of my greatest influences, Gord Downie of The Tragically Hip ("Note: "Let's get friendship right...
live li..."). I'm not gonna go into it all now; it's still too fresh and still a lot to process, even though I've written about him/them plenty of times. I just wanna share that CTV is airing a documentary about The Hip's last concert tour tomorrow night, and I will be watching with a fresh box of tissues to contain my inevitable, long time runnin' tears. And I'd saved this link of the Definitive Ranking Of Every Tragically Hip Song in my Pocket app awhile ago, for no reason other than to peruse at some point, and I can't think of a better time than very, very soon.   But now I gotta shout out some friends, and Shaye  is doing awesome things that need your attention. I'm a fan/substitute (poorly ) judge in the one, and a donor in the other, but you should probably get on board with both because I said so and they're amazing. I'm going to be working on a new poetry concept project in the coming months that I haven't told anyone about yet (not even Kit  ) and I'm sure I'll be using some Daily Poem prompts as a loose guide.
 And I love Nixie Martell cheerleader  (she made me admit that once ), who has threatened/offered to Nix-ify people if they do not help with this (re: "Note: It's lonely out here in space. I have evi...") and while I kinda wanna know what that entails, this "Nix-ifying", please don't let her force the rest of you into finding out in case that winds up being not your thing ...also, I'll be tickled if you make it even more worth her while and beneficial to the Power Reviewers if you up the bids on my packages .
 And finally, before I unplug for a bit (and by that I mean "plug my laptop back into my tv and a power outlet and make me a sandwich" ), in this age of social media and everyone able to being exposed to all kinds of new/different/fun things, let's take a moment to be responsible with our music and our choices. #DefRescucattThank you! And thank you! And you! And...ok, you too I guess . And you! And also you. Peace, love tastes so sweet, and GOODNIGHT NOW!! |
** Image ID #2123241 Unavailable **  PROMPT: "If a 25-year-old asked you advice about dating what would your recommend? Date younger, older or the same age? Who should approach who? Has the dating scene really changed that much?" What's up you guys? Yup, it's Friday, and it's the last day of the month, which means I'm gonna have to find something else to do with my time. You might think I make this blogging thing look easy, but I've got a team of malnourished hamsters in a series of interconnected cages who run in wheels day and night churning out potential topics and tidbits of information...which I promptly shred and use to pad my own personal mattress with to lay upon while I watch them work past exhaustion . They're not gonna know what to do with themselves either once the blistering heart from my laptop's fan eases into a cool July breeze. And what's up with people always wanting advice from me, like I'm some kind of legend or guru? I'm probably the last person anyone should be asking for dating recommendations. The prompt should probably be the other way around, with me asking 25-year-olds advice on how to enter the 21st-century dating world. See, back in my day, we met face-to-face and got sloppy drunk together before hookin' up at my place. Like a real man! Not this "stare at the phone and swipe" bullshit. What a waste of time. Can't have sex with a drunk iPhone! (Unless you have, in which case, please stop reading my blog. Thanks.) And how should I know who should do the approaching? I'm insecure and awkward, so if I were to approach someone at best I'd come across as a meddling toddler who thinks he's a big shot (and at worst probably be mistaken for someone on a sex offender registry). I'm a bad combo of things...if it can be combined with anything, when it hits me it's an experiment gone awry. Remember that time you wanted to make "big changes" so you frosted and permed your hair? I'm that, but I also made you bald. What doesn't help is that every relationship I've been in has always been just quirky enough to be different from the average relationship, and yet that's like one thing (among many reasons) that adds to why it's been doomed. The main reason though has always been me, and my paranoia/neurotic tendencies/anxiety/depression/flat-fuck weirdness. I ruin perfectly good, alright, doable things. And sometimes I cannot help it. But you're not here for my sob stories, and I don't want your pity. I have Kit of House Lannister and she's great and I love her to pieces and I'm determined not to ruin that, and also she's like thousands of miles away right now so it's easier to not break what you can't touch. No, you came for advice and as a former 25-year-old, I can only speak from experience. Be young. Have fun. Bang as many chicks or dudes or both as you want. Break some hearts, but don't be afraid to get your heart broken...it's the only way you're really gonna know what you want. And by the time you figure that out, you'll likely have also realized it'll probably never be attainable again, so start the process over. Be young. Have fun...And dating isn't just swapping cash for food, goods, and services with someone you like in hopes of maybe making out with them later...it's also the trading of ideas and ideals. It's give-and-take. It's the learning process, but it's been thrown into the fire...sometimes you end up with a boyfriend or girlfriend, and sometimes you end up with first-degree burns. The last poem I've written for this year's "Invalid Item" kinda touches a little on the fear and trading of ideas aspects...in a perfect world there are a certain amount of equals between two people, and things we may not totally be on board with but can live with, and stuff we just won't go for. You date to see how many equals you have with as many people as you can until you find what you think is the most, and then you try and try and try and hopefully along the way get married because in both your eyes, that person is your equal-est (fact: that's a made-up word). Or, conversely, you just find someone who you can have amazing sex with, and pray that neither of you wants more amazing-er sex with other people. Wait...I think I was talking about the poem and got off track. You kids out there, don't be afraid to give of yourselves. Everyone you meet is giving you a piece of themselves, and taking a bit of you with them. Sometimes, you're gonna get hurt, and that's alright. Don't be like me and swear that's the end and you'll never date another person, no how no way forever-ever; let it build your resolve to love without fear or shame. Stay who you are; be the person people want to love. My therapist says he thinks* chicks dig that (*he didn't really say that; I'm saying it now for effect, and it's probably not really as funny now as it might've been had I not said that I said it and not my therapist). Or whatever, date or don't date, I don't care what you kids and your stupid dating apps do. Just stay off my damn lawn . Enjoy this corny, sing-songy lyrics-y thing and do whatever makes you happy, in whichever way you see fit. Give I don't know how long you can insist that "nobody wants to see me like this" as if you're some kind of insult on bachelors in cargo shorts and flip-flops. You're never gonna unimpress me or alienate the alien within me. You don't have to do a thing to see that the key to being is to let go and be. Why is it that we always insist "nobody's ever gonna understand this" when it's us that never seems to get we command and much as we comprehend? The world's proven it's big enough for you, and I can show you there's room for two. There's semantics and then there's proof that when you're a giver, you'll recoup. Don't look, just give...it'll come back to you. Don't judge, just trust...there is nothing to lose. Don't hate, just love...you're so long overdue. Don't look, just give...it'll come back to you. And don't listen when the world insists that nobody cares what you think about this. You're a bird that's learning how to fly and even if you fall you won't run out of sky. One answer doesn't end all the questions and one failure doesn't cancel future missions. You're only as good as you're giving. Share your love kindly and share your life freely. Don't look, just give...it'll come back to you. Don't judge, just trust...there is nothing to lose. Don't hate, just love...you're so long overdue. Don't look, just give...it'll come back to you. "Give" from "Also Mutants" .Awwww yeah, my favorite Canadian band, on the eve of  Canada Day...last weekend I had the pleasure of enjoying a long-distance date night with Kit of House Lannister , and we watched the worldwide rebroadcast of their last (and most likely final, ever) concert from last summer. She was barely familiar with The Tragically Hip; I'd seen them live five times (six, if you include a solo gig from the lead singer). And she sat through the nearly three hour show, and loved it. That's devotion...not me paying hundreds of dollars in cds and merch and concert tix over the years, but her investing that kind of time to spend with me over a band she's hardly ever listened to . And this is absolutely an underrated song about dating perhaps, maybe falling in love eventually even.   As always, the hamster staff and I here at "Soundtracked" Media are always looking for ways to reach a diverse crowd, and use a various set of means to accomplish this. That's why some days men may find my entries more appealing, while other days they cater more to women. There's nothing wrong with that, young and aspiring bloggers...it's ok to try and please as many people as you can. The other day I was talking to Kit and I found a link about vaginas and I shared it with her and we had a good laugh; one of the jokes in that link nearly inspired a line that unfortunately didn't make it into the poem I was working on that day ("Yellow Smog" ), and now I can't even find that link anymore, dammit...something about a vag that "puffs dust", which I thought was truly hilarious. And now that the secret's fully out that I'm a full-on fucking weirdo, have some memes that people with vaginas will find funnier than people with penises will.  Ok, to prove that I'm not totally unromantic or hate relationships or anything grumpy or mean or whatever derogatory epitaphs were hurled at me yesterday because I don't watch television much, there's a book coming out in which the main characters are involved in an interspecies romance ...annnnnnnd cue all the folks who questioned if people marrying their dogs was what was gonna happen once the US legalized gay marriage. I'm all for books and not stupid people.  And finally, allllllllllriiiiiiiiiight you got me, I'm kinda definitely a bit of a romantic, and I've been saving this story in my Pocket app for months just in case I decided to blog again ever, and now I have, and even though it's not Christmas and it's fucking Sahara-hot outside right now I'm sharing it anyway just to prove to you that I love love: this dude sat in a coffee shop and live-tweeted watching a girl tell her coworker she's got feelings for him . Jerry was the hero we needed at the end of 2016 to carry us into 2017 with hope after a year of heartbreak and despair...may we all one day be so lucky to witness such a beautiful story playing out in front of us, and if not, may we always have Jerry to tell us one. That's it for me folks...it's been a hell of a ride this month, and I'm glad you came along. Come down and join me in July at the "30-Day Blogging Challenge ON HIATUS" where I provide some non-picture prompts and you can compete for kickass prizes...all the cool kids hang out there when it's too rainy to go swimming, and you also don't have to wait a half hour after eating to join the debauchery. Peace, I might turn a broom into a tree, and GOODNIGHT NOW!! |
** Image ID #2123241 Unavailable ** Ugh, you guys...I don't even wanna write this entry today, for realz yo. It's gonna be full of all kindsa craziness that I know nothing about, and I'm not sure how well I'll be able to stand behind everything that goes down in here today. But I hafta start somewhere I guess, so let's get the obvious out of the way with what's now seemingly become over the last couple years my official summertime tantrum/motto/advice tradition-like substance:  Now an even bigger meme in 2017! Just like the game. And by "obvious summer advice" I don't mean "bras are not wallets, ladies" ...you don't like boob sweat and I don't like your boob-sweaty money. Anyway, no...I mean JFC it's "Game of Thrones" season already around here?? It's all over the newsfeed...like seeing Christmas stuff in stores before school starts in September. Has everyone finished recovering from the last one yet? I mean, with the percentage of WDC members playing last year hovering around 83.819%, surely someone's still bound to be locked in a food- and sleep-deprived basement somewhere in middle America, reviewing something I last wrote and looked at in 2003. I don't watch the show and kinda don't care, but you can't be on WDC and not know what it is, so the best I can do is help you get caught up before the game here and the current season on whatever platform it's on begins.Anyway, here's my annual (ok, every-13th-month) plea: Please do not ask me to join your team or house or franchise or timeshare. Also, I will not sponsor a house, organization, beer league softball team, or recovering beer league softball alcoholic in AA. I will not cheer your house, car, boat, or the New England Patriots. I'm not buying flags or armor or shields or girl scout cookies or your excuses. Don't ask me for advice or clarification on the rules, because I have never once bothered to try and figure them out. Consider me a persona non grata in whatever fictional country your fictional game is happening in. In accordance with previous years, I am responsible to only one person that month- Gaby ~ Keeper Of The Realm  - and I have a job to do, which is read and judge. Or something. tl;dr: Don't ask me shit cuz I ain't playin'. Seriously. It's not cuz I don't like you or have somethin' against you or I'm lookin' out for somebody else. It's just that I legit do not have any interest in it, but I will help out a friend who happens to be running an event. And that means not taking part in it. I may as well be of use somewhere, right? I will share a helpful tip though...know what GoT has taught me over the years? Make sure your port is in good reviewing order . Now's a good time to get it organized, and set all the things you don't want reviewed or read to "Private" . And stay hydrated. Oh, that's a bit of summer advice . Honestly, I really don't watch that much tv at all; I don't even have cable, and have probably lived half of my adult life without a television, actually. Nowadays, just at night as I'm falling asleep I'll stream some stuff...and it's probably like the same five or six shows over and over . Seems like whenever Game Of Thrones or The Walking Dead is on, that's all people know and wanna talk about. I'm over here like "I cured cancer and won a water polo championship and translated all of Trump's tweets into a polite words your grandma can read and understand with no disgust!", and all y'all are like "OMG dude Negan and Daenerys, bruh!! They were totally making out on top of that unicorn thing last night! Until they got shot and set on fire and winter and RAAAAAAAGE BOOOOOOOOONER!!" and that's when I walk away because I hate you all. Which, dude, I don't even know what compelled me to get into trying to write some kind of zombie poem today, speaking of TWD. And it's not even just a zombie poem; it's like a zombie hook-up poem. Because once I start digging a hole, I seriously do not know when to stop. The neat thing is that once I had a kinda cool title, I started riffin' on it...and what came out was totally, absolutely unrelated to the picture prompt I wanted to use, or the other picture, or the title, so I changed the title and it became "Fine" , which you should totally read cuz it's kinda alright and I'd totally enter it in today's "Invalid Item" over basically the zombie Tinder I invented a little bit later on. I know probably even less about zombies than I do GoT, other than my baseless opinion that zombies are probably the dumbest, clumsiest characters out of all the villainous horror creatures, including bats. And all I know about GoT is whatever I learned from some of these memes , until I got bored and didn't feel like scrolling anymore.  New Sleeps I'm not here for my looks or your brains. I'd rather be alone, but since you're in my way I guess I'll have to figure out a place where you can stay and sleep with me. And you don't have to tell but if anyone asks, say "He's not the undead; he's just making room for the new arrivals and he needs a hand." I can almost live with that and you. But if I find you're taking up too much room, it'll be you moving the stones and breaking in the new sleeps. I might not be able to undo the undead, but I can get you almost all the way there. "New Sleeps" from "Also Mutants" .Again, finding a song was kinda a pain in the ass for some reason! Had a few options that just weren't good enough (not that I actually have standards, but still...) and then I looked up this song and found a really cool cover of it instead, which includes the lead singer of Deftones so that's a win for me. And I also love that the song itself is basically from the perspective of an infant rather than that of a zombie (in fact, this song has nothing to do with zombies). What it is, it's a good excuse to put Faith No More in a blog entry though, is what it is! "Zombie Eaters" -Ill Niño w/Chino Moreno"I begin to see through your eyes... all the former mysteries are no surprise."  Not gonna lie; having social anxiety can almost turn you into a zombie, especially on occasions where you kinda hafta interact with people and they catch you off guard no matter how well you think you're prepared and have convinced yourself that it's gonna all be smooth encounters...fuck that, they almost never are. And honestly, I've done or felt a lot of these things before; some even as recently as this week. That's just life, for me and for a lot of others. It doesn't mean we don't wanna be invited to your party or spoken to like a normal human being...we just, uhhh, we're running continual software updates while trying to simultaneously open and close eight tabs on two laptops, and can't figure out which one of them is playing audio .  As you may be aware, I'm not really much of a cat person...so maybe I'm gonna need Kit of House Lannister 's input on this. I'm not sure what's more terrifying...zombies, or zombie cats . I'm going with zombie cats, for the record. And finally, I'm convinced (also baselessly, like my other zombie opinions) that zombies are the risen victims of serial killers, coming back to Earth to finish the job of their master/demon/murderer-person-thingy. Seems plausible, right? And ok, not that I would, like, actually advocate violence, but if you're doing any of these things then here's how I know you're a serial killer ...and if you're doing #5 or #8 especially, maybe you need to be taken out by a serial killer. Jus' sayin', y'all. Alright...hey! Whaddya know? One day left in June and the "Invalid Item" , and I've got in fifteen entries to qualify for this month's running of "The Bard's Hall Contest" , with a day to spare! Not bad for probably having all of fifteen entries total in the year previous ...but you'll have that. Guess I should take a look and see what else is goin' on around here...peace, wipe my butt, and GOODNIGHT NOW!! |
** Image ID #2123241 Unavailable ** PROMPT: "Turn on the local weather forecast and imagine the current conditions taken to the extreme. Write a blog entry about one aspect of it. Have fun with it." What's up you guys? Ugh...I didn't do a damn thing today. Well, that's not true; I did several things, including some pretty cool stuff, but the one thing I basically got out of bed with the intention of doing, well, I did not do. And I'm squarely blaming it on the weather, which, if you know me, you know I hate talking about it because it's there, it happens, and there ain't shit ya can do about it. And that's my word. So let's see...I got up this morning, about my usual time, fired up the ol' coffeemaker, and immediately started getting ready as if I were gonna leave the house. And that's a big deal for me, because if I don't do this the likelihood of me actually leaving the house decreases by the hour. The sun was kinda out, doing that peek-a-boo dance random toddlers will do with you when they waddle past you in public like tiny drunk adults, except I think the sun itself was drunk and stumbling and pissing all over the place...by the time I got my shorts up and my window opened, it was raining and miserable. And cold! I don't know what the friggin' problem is, if it's me or what...this time last year I was dehydrated from sweating my ass off even with a fan blowing on me at high speed 24/7, while today I decided I wasn't going anywhere because it's June and I refuse to wear long pants and a hoodie in the daytime all June long. I will gladly admit that I'm entitled to warm weather in June, as a warm-blooded bastard. Anyway, the mission today was the same as it's always been on Tuesdays and Saturdays this month...get up early and get down to the farmer's market for cinnamon rolls. It's the end of June and I have yet to even get one single cinnamon roll, let alone an entire pan. And because I'm weather-entitled, I'm blaming this all on Mother Nature. She's probably run by one of the twelve or so corporations that sell basically everything on the planet anyway, so it's not her fault, per se...but there's gotta be at least a figurehead I can come after with a torch and a pitchfork. I mean, it just wouldn't be a Tuesday without something for me to riot about, right? The weather has been really weird this year...you can't plan for shit. High of 85, low of 42, and periods of blistering sunshine and torrential rain throughout the day, with only a 3.8-minute max window allowing for the transitioning between the two. And I know the prompt says "go to your forecast and take it to the extreme" and I wish I were all funny-haha joking about it, but for realz yo...welcome to Central NY, 2017. Our weather kinda is the extremes. I mean, ok, it's not Arizona hot , and thankfully we're not waking up to two feet of snow, but I'd seriously appreciate a few straight days of something consistent. I don't think I'm asking for much.And I don't even wanna joke about it, because I feel like if I do the weather overlords at Mother Nature are gonna retaliate and jam me up with raindrops coming down at me all furious like a water balloon fight until it gets cold enough to snow, and that is something I want zero part in. So instead I turned my attention inside...came over to WDC, did a few things here and there, and got ready to post the images for the "Invalid Item" so I could get going on a poem. I went with the girl sleeping on a stack of books while underwater...tried as hard as I could to come up with something for the baby inside a shell on the beach ("6/27 shell baby" ), I really did, but when I'm tearing pages out of my notebook because what I'm coming up with smells like that kid's ass because he's trapped in that shell until I dunno, he outgrows it like a hermit crab or somethin' I guess, well, that's at least how I know things aren't working for me.The girl though...she reminded me of a couple times when I was in high school, staying up late to work on math homework I guess (that's the subject I seem to remember falling asleep on the most ), or setting my alarm earlier than normal because I knew I'd need extra time in the morning to finish up. Wasn't often, but often enough I think that I remembered doing it. And that sort of became the beginning of the basic thought process going on into it...random high school shit, and the ways some kids try to deal with it. They pack everything into their schedule and take on so many activities and stuff, and you wonder how they manage to do it all! Even now, with all the conveniences we have compared to when I was a teenager, I still don't think I'd be able to do it! It boggles my mind; like, does every minute have to be accounted for? If something comes up and you can't finish one thing do you just drop it in place and move on, like some weird game show where you actually drop something and move on to another station to perform a task for x-amount of seconds, trying to get as much done before the buzzer sounds? Ugh...the fact that I don't think I would operate very well anymore under those circumstances makes me think something happened to me as a fetus that has impaired my time-to-activities ratio and reasoning . But yeah, anyway, a poem. This is the result of that. Hurry up and read it, cuz it's about to rain again I think.  Just A Dream Before Breakfast It was math- no, sciences of earth- or that guy after gym class, ya know, with the laser-cut tris. Yeah! I think... And it was 1 o'clock, or was it Monday morning? Feels like night, but there's no way it would've been. All the commitments are piling high; why am I sinking farther below? Everything's looking up but my status... security... prospects... grades. The only time I can breathe is when I'm three hours deep in sleep and the pressures release; I'm a thousand pounds of weightlessness. I'm everything, and I don't know who I am but I'll do it flawlessly, like you had no idea I didn't know how to begin. "Just A Dream Before Breakfast" from "Also Mutants" , with footnote.Funny...most days I've got a song before the poem or the entry or the links. I may start off with a general idea for the entry and the song kinda drops in, and I'll go from there...snapping pieces of the entry together like folding chairs and tables. Not today...last part of the entry today for me was this part (well, and the actual typing of the details in my head). How could I come up with a song that tied in school-like stuff and weather-relatedness? I know a lot of music, but I can't just Google my library with search tags and sub-categories. This is where I landed because once I saw the lyrics it sorta fit the poem...or, well, maybe it fit the picture prompt a little better than maybe my poem did, and you can drown in a rain puddle if you try hard enough. "Drown" -Smashing Pumpkins"No matter where you are, I can still hear you when you dream. You traveled very far. You traveled far, like a star." I NEED TO INTERRUPT THIS ENTRY FOR A SPECIAL FAKE NEWS BULLETIN!! For real though, in forty years your grandkids (not mine, cuz I'm not puttin' kids who are gonna have kids into this world ) are gonna cuss you out in Russian, with something that roughly translates to "WTF were you and your people thinking when America was still a free country??"  Given that weather might be just one of the many reasons that could lead all of us to not even worry about grandchildren swearing at us in Russian because adults can't come to a consensus and trust science or other adults on pretty much otherwise common sense issues and might be tempted instead to blow everything up and start over, here's what to do in case a nuclear bomb hits your town . Remember to send me a thank you C-note when it's over with, cuz you know I love you .  Found this list during National Poetry Month...you know, that month where "Invalid Item" happens and I swear to myself I'll start blogging more often again and convince myself to participate, until I don't? Well, I figure since this month I'm crossing over poetry and blogging, I'll share with some of the non-poetry readers this list I found back in April (uhhh, that was April, right?  ) of ten poets for people who don't like poetry . And no, I'm not listed...which I know for some of you probably invalidates the list (just kidding), but there's seriously some cool people on there worth at least a Twitter follow.  And finally, if you go to this middle school please get at me, because the person that hung that sign and I need to be friends and find paying jobs in whatever field it is that pays people to do what they did. I mean, it's no Depew Senior High class of '15  ; in fact, I'd say it's above and beyond in my opinion...or, if you will, perhaps a tougher nut to crack . I'll show myself out, thanks. *sigh* And to think, I was once really proud to live in that community. Alright you kids...I've had about enough o' yas for one day. Can't take you guys anywhere or do anything nice without a problem, huh? Oh wait, sorry...that was just the flashbacks of junior year again . No seriously, I'm gonna cut outta here a little early because it's still daylight and that doesn't mean anything but it sounds like as good an excuse as any to wrap this thing up cuz I don't have anything else planned and nothing more to say. Peace, yesterday the sky was you, and GOODNIGHT NOW!! |
** Image ID #2123241 Unavailable ** Ahhhhhhahaha...what's up my people? So, I had to go to the doctor today (just a follow-up on a med change...no biggie), which was kinda scary only in the "I had to wait 45 minutes after my appointment time to be seen" kind of way, which, if you have ever seen a doctor before for any sort of reason, you know that this is standard operating procedure. It doesn't bother me because: 1) basically I barely give a shit about anything; 2) my schedule right now is amiable to things like this, where I can devote the entire day to something if I damn well feel like it; and 3) I come prepared and bring a book to read. I'm currently reading You, Too, Could Write a Poem by David Orr, a poetry critic/columnist for the New York Times. It's an interesting read, learning what people think about poetry because they're paid to give their opinions and impressions of it...it's like writing prose inspired by poetry, or some haughtier way of speaking in poetics or something. Anyway, fascinating book so far...and I came across this nugget I sorta feel like I hafta share with y'all, cuz I like you... "Or you pass through a black and cobwebbed forest to find a city sparkling with clockwork. The inhabitants are inventors. Their first projects were simple tools designed to assist the memory (the abacus, for instance, and an assortment of color-coded blocks). Then they began attempting to reproduce the sounds and shapes of animals, most notable in the form of mechanical birds that could sing the time of day with shattering poignancy. Eventually the inhabitants started tinkering with their own flesh, replacing limbs with pistons and vocal cords with nets of steel mesh. The progression will conclude until the inhabitants have separated themselves entirely from their bodily heritage, at which point they will be indistinguishable from the miles of machinery that surround them." -David Orr, You, Too, Could Write a Poem What's amazing about this, to me at least, is he's not talking about some dystopian future and the fate of the universe; he's talking about the state of poetry and how much it's changed in the last, I dunno, let's say 100 years just to have a number, and what it could potentially be in another 100 years. You have to understand also that I ripped that section of the book from one chapter titled "Volta -The State of Contemporary American Poetry: An Allegory". So now you're wondering to yourself "Norb, WTF does this hafta do with anything??" I got you fam; sit back and let me tell you. I made it home from my appointment and got the images ready to post for the "Invalid Item" ...and the one I chose for myself to use today was of a city. Most likely New York City if we're assuming that's the Statue Of Liberty in the center (you'll see the pic in a minute; hold your damn horses ) in a sort of abstract/surreal cityscape shot with a balanced skyline. I'm affected most I think by two things in this world: 1) The more things change, the more things stay the same; and 2) I'm pretty much desensitized now to basically everything. Everything. Murder, psychopaths, weirdos, the Trump administration...the world has turned into a sick game of trying to one-up the batshit crazy the last person dropped off, and I tuned out a long, long time ago. My friends, I do not have time for that . And that's where today's poem comes in. As much as shit changes, it's still the same. Whether it's good or bad. The people we're supposed to be trusting, and maybe do trust, aren't worth a damn. The institutions we need to hear from have gone silent and boarded up the doors and windows. People will gladly shower in piss if it comes out of certain dicks. That's the truth, whether you refuse to see it or not. It's there. It's always been there. And yet it doesn't seem to scare the people who actually in reality probably should be scared the most. It was America in 1862, 1919, 1945, 1970, and it's America today. Put another coat of paint on it and everyone'll think it's brand spankin' new.  Yellow Smog The truth is, I never know anymore if we're at war or not. The skyline always seems like a plain statement either way; one you don't get from where you think you should. Instead it's like we're all happier getting tortured for our needs and bleeding faith for relief that comes as illusion. We're only gonna wind up seeing what we see through, if there's anything at all to believe. "Yellow Smog" from "Also Mutants" .It gets tiring, it really does, hearing people try to defend themselves over their irresponsible choices. And I should know...I'm a habitually poor decision-maker! But when you hear lie and spin and denial and then defense, all in that order, from powers that be and those put in position by those powers, it's not only disappointing but it's disconcerting...and that doesn't even take into account the average human being who now feels empowered because in a 50/50 guess he or she picked the right answer and now feels like they won the Racist Olympics. And what's even more fucked up is that now when we say "average person", it's no longer the mean...it's more like whatever the middle was, minus 37%. "Willful Suspension Of Disbelief" -Modest Mouse"It's all so plain; it's all a plan. It's all so plain to most everyone."  Hey! This month's "Invalid Item" came out this morning! Did we do a good job? Bark loudly over at the "Blogging Bliss Newsletter Forum" and tag your editors with questions, comments, concerns, or general admiration. And if you have no clue what I'm talking about (again ), get yourself some over here: "Blogging Bliss NL Subscription Request" .  Also hey! So, I signed up about a week and a half ago to take on "a very Wodehouse challenge" ...and my last, final, get-this-done-and-get-a-prize task is to do a little write-up on what I learned. Here's the deets y'all...as you may or may not know, the purpose of Wodehouse is to get you out of your comfort zone and try new things, more or less. The genre I was given to work on was Horror . Now, before I go any further, let's talk for a minute about our relationship...you and I. How did we come to meet on here? Maybe it was through blogging way back in the day, as I have been told sorta often I'm pretty nice with that. Perhaps more recently it's been through poetry, which after many years and stops and starts has finally gotten me some love. Could be that you've seen me on one of the many WDC Live broadcasts. Whatever the case, you do not know me for writing short stories, or anything in the Horror/Suspense genre. But guess what? I finally, after almost 16 years ( ) of WDC usage, I finally have a legit bona fide short story in my port: "Painted Rock" . And I entered it in "SCREAMS!!!" , which is totally something I never would've done on my own. Also, for the first time ever, I did some Product Reviews...I've seen them around occasionally, but never actually knew how to go about doing one for WDC or having to tag one. And it's funny whenever I do see someone with a product review tagged in their blog entry or newsfeed post or whatever...I immediately assume my ad-block didn't catch something or I need to run that opt-out software thing from the Digital Ad Alliance that cleans up all the ad-tracking shit so you don't get so many banner ads and obnoxious garbage on regular random websites. But anyway...yeah, product reviews...they're a bit tedious, but also kinda fun, like answering a survey. In doing that, I found I had to struggle just to come up with products I've used that could be classified as "horror" ...I don't really watch movies, and when I do they're usually comedies, so I had to dig deep into my vaults to come up with stuff. Same with books...I don't really read horror. Also, and this is big: "horror" is probably now my most misspelled word ever. I can't tell you how many times I've typed horrow...so many, that my fingers now hit that w at the end and automatically my right pinky goes to the backspace key while the other hand finds the correct r. It's ridiculous...I apparently cannot type the damn word. Maybe my muscle memory remembers double-r words like "tomorrow" and that's just what I know so that's what I do. How weird is that? And finally, I probably say this every time I do more than two reviews at a time, but I kinda enjoy reviewing and I know I don't do it enough but it's really a fun experience, especially when someone appreciates you taking the time to help them out a little bit. A good review can go a long way...not just for the person you're reviewing, but for you as well. And with that my brothers and sisters, I have completed my first attempt at the Wodehouse Challenge! Thanks to iKïyå§ama-House Targaryen  , who does a kickass job coordinating the whole thing for the participants and their challengers, and to the people who set up the challenges and take the participants almost on a virtual tour of parts of WDC you might not be nearly as familiar with as you are your own little hollowed-out nooks and crevices...my spots are so worn in, like a fresh pair of your favorite jeans and a thick ol' hoodie, so it was definitely awesome getting around and seeing how other groups and forums run, as well as experiencing different genres. I will definitely be looking to sign up again after it comes back from hiatus (and I wait my turn ).  And finally, since you and I both know this entry has gone on for far too long tonight, have yourself a bunch of spooky, scary two-sentence stories . And maybe sleep with the lights on tonight . Alright you meddling kids ...I've got some editing to do here, and some submitting to do there, and some posting over yonder, and maybe- just maybe- I'll get away with going to bed at a semi-reasonable hour tonight (and hope I don't wake up any sooner than I need to in the morning). Peace, you're digging up, and GOODNIGHT NOW!! |
** Image ID #2123241 Unavailable ** What's up y'all? Ugh, I hate getting a late start and writing blog entries at night...used to do it all the time, but I guess I've somehow managed to fix my non-schedule of life activities in such a way that makes it easier to do things in the mornings and afternoons. Except the mornings and afternoons when I have things I need to leave the house for, like therapy sessions. Anyway, this is Day 21 of the "Invalid Item" , which means every poem I've written this month has a picture attached to it. Normally I wouldn't tell you that cuz it's not a big deal, but I actually wrote a poem this morning without the aid of a picture prompt...first time I've done that in three weeks, which coincidentally was also the first item in "Also Mutants" . And it's also cool cuz I kinda like it actually...it's "Piano Key Bang" , and it's a little humorous (but not "bus' yo ass" funny). I also wrote a pretty terrible poem but probably a really good so-so commercial jingle for like an exercising company(?)...seriously, it's terrible. Like, I-couldn't-even-finish-it bad. I didn't even wanna rip the page outta my notebook cuz I didn't wanna offend my trash. I'm saving it because I like the opening line. The rest, I swear, if you hear on a radio commercial, get at me please...someone's gonna hafta pay me for unauthorized use of crappy poem-like substances in their ad campaigns. The work in question is "All Stretched Out" , which really is only the best use of a mediocre title. This is the world I pretty much live in these days. I mentioned therapy at the top, and today being Wednesday I had the group session (with tomorrow being my individual). I'm a worrier; like most people, actually. But I worry about the dumbest shit. Y'all are worryin' about your 401k, and if the president's gonna bomb either of the Koreas (on purpose or accident) (ok, I worry about that too) and whether or not you should eat that last taco because you're fat (yes)...I'm over here with no horses in any races but I'm still all like "Robots will be doing our jobs by 2005!" [Note to self: It's 2017 already. If you're gonna keep worrying about this, update something. Anything.] This is one reason I don't get trusted with large amounts of money. But really...aren't you worried that someday robots are gonna be doin' all the shit Americans are too lazy to do? And then they'll figure out how to do more, and suddenly the only people actually working are people who build, program, and/or fix robots? And when robots learn how to do that, it's Game Over for us, man. Like, I don't even wanna know what our endgame is as the human race, provided we make it that far to see the day the robots take over. I won't read any books or watch any movies about it. That, and falling in the shower and cracking my head and bleeding out while drowning, are like my only fears, homie. I did, however, write a poem about it which both got away from me in about thirty different ways and ended up being humorous in a ridiculous kinda way. And for some reason I'm not ashamed of it. It's got both a made-up word and a fictional place, and it spoofs politics and religion and pop culture (sorta). It will not make anyone's "Greatest Poems Of 2017" list. You probably won't even laugh at it, or enjoy it, because that's almost the week I've been having. But whatever, I don't care. Another three-banger puts me at 32 poems in 21 days. And I kinda like some of 'em...so I guess that's not bad.  Any One Will Do There's an alternate universe where cable news stations are alerting viewers that Jesus Christ is coming, and- you won't wanna miss this- he's a robot. His prep work on us is almost over... he's been reading all the Harlequin classics at the Hopedale Memorial Public Library And Ladies Auxiliary Landfill For The Almost Homeless, and he likes what he sees. Thinks he'll fit in. Maybe get laid, even. Assuming, of course, our lord and lotharial savior isn't deported first. But the real story- the one the news doesn't tell you- is that Robot Jesus is made of Lego brick knock-offs, and running a magnet over his circuit board causes him to question his sexual preference. Meaning: all his book-learnin' is doin' is he could be lovin' you while thinkin' about someone else. And in this alternate universe, that one sin is greater than all the rest combined, but that's not concerning to the loyal news patriots or moral zealots who think they have a chance. "Any One Will Do" from "Also Mutants" .My only regret today is that I couldn't think of a way to use the following picture of my own writing collection, because that's what the robot first reminded me of ... If I'd had like an old ET doll or something, I totally would've tried to photoshop it in or somethin', to try and recreate the prompt. Of course, I don't really know how to photoshop things, which means I'll probably be one of the first ones sacrificed when the robots start overthrowing governments and asserting their power.. I'm basically almost useless to them .And when the robots develop emotional capacities and feelings and reasoning and coping skills, we're fucked. Doomed, I tell you! We better figure out something to do once the robots really catch on to the idea that there is no Plan B once they do everything science fiction claims they'll be able to do. "One More Robot/Sympathy 3000-21" -The Flaming Lips"One more robot learns to be something more than a machine. When it tries the way it does, makes it seem like it can love."  It's that time again...Auction Season! There are thirty packages to bid on, including the usual reviews and awardicons...plus a slew of Exclusive MBs (like, all of Elle - on hiatus  's!! ), a magazine subscription, a Starbucks gift card, and membership upgrades! And it benefits WDC's Rising Stars, which you know is a fantastic organization lookin' out for the newbie black and yellow cases. It runs through July 20th; get in on the action here :
 Y'all think I'm playin' about this robot business, don't ya? I'm not! I actually belong to a Facebook group, The Solution ...which is dedicated to, among other things, automated labor and its affect on the workforce.  And just wait until those robots learn how to perform surgery...not only will they go through with installing microchips in our brains, but the government is already working on plans to do so anyway. Any guesses as to who might be the first recipients of such technology? Why, those with mental health concerns , of course!  And finally, when the robots really do take over, you know it's just one more thing we can blame on the millennials . Back in my day, we just died . Alright all you crazy kids...it's almost bedtime for this guy, and yet I still have so much to do for some reason. I haven't even had a chance to find obscene cat memes for Kit of House Lannister yet, and that's like the highlight of my day and all that. This blogging at night thing is gonna throw off my entire internal clock...which'll prolly make me ripe for hostile robot taker-overing or whatever they call it in their fancy lingo. Don't trust walkie-talkies; they're just instruments of our new overlords! Peace, a sympathetic wish, and GOODNIGHT NOW!! |
** Image ID #2123241 Unavailable ** PROMPT: "Creation Saturday, as Norb loves to call it over in the "30-Day Blogging Challenge ON HIATUS" ....Write a STORY or POEM that begins with 'There was only one way out'."WOOOOOO! What is up y'all? That's right, it's a good ol' 30DBC-style Creation Saturday prompt from my friend Lyn's a sly fox , and it looks like I can write one simple entry and take care of two prompts...or three, if you include this entry counting as part of my submission for "The Bard's Hall Contest" . That makes me feel like I've accomplished a mad amount of things today, when all I did really was write a poem and dick around on the internet most of the afternoon. Wait...that's not true. I actually did do things today. Like I've done most every other Saturday this month (why does saying that sound like there have been at least 38 Saturdays this June?) I went down to the Cortland Farmer's Market...and again I was denied cinnamon rolls on account of their poor planning. So in my head I swore a lot (since it's not nice to swear at people, especially if you're not sure if they're the problem or not), and then I took my feet and the rest of my body a few blocks further down the road to the 7-11. It was a nice day, and it's one of those bigger ones with a dining area and everything...not one of those old-school cramped ones where the cashier station is like half the store. Oh, yeah, anyway, bigger selection of goods than the closer stores I usually visit. So I got the baked goods there. Not the same, but screw the farmer's market. I also made a few other stops...one of which was the local organic healthy food place I've mentioned before. I may have bought seaweed snacks. And I may be considering eating them in front of a camera if I can come up with a solid reason to. Like, a charitable reason. Say, x-amount of GPs to y-charity equals video of me eating seaweed. If you've got suggestions regarding this I'd love to hear them...there's plenty of room in my comments section for your input. So that was the day. Oh, and a poem. You'll notice that in "Also Mutants" this item is followed by the notation (v.2)...that's because I wrote two versions of it, side by side in my notebook. Mainly to add a couple lines and adjust the spacing of the breaks a little. No major revamping, no mysterious scribbling, nothing for the ultimate collectors to span the globe trying to get their hands on and figure out. I'm only telling you about it so I have something else to add to this entry, and make it look like I accomplished even more than my already pseudo-accomplished Saturday looks. WOOOOOO! The Way Out Is In There was only one way out- your words- and I knew it. Sometimes life presents you a situation with just one chance to make something happen. I was determined to be the man. I was determined to beat the man. Once I got close... once I got a taste I knew I had to go all the way. The hard way. No turning back. It wasn't a pledge or a promise, but a new lifestyle. There was only one way out- your words- but to me, it was my only way in. "The Way Out Is In (v.2)" from "Also Mutants" .I'm officially going on record as saying No. 4 is the best Stone Temple Pilots album...even better than Purple, which for years I'd always considered superior. But I think this album has aged just as well, if not better. You can fight me on it if you want, but I'm tellin' ya you're gonna lose. And this isn't even the best song off No. 4 either; it's just the one that happens to fit the damn entry (and if you wanna know what the best song on the album is, it's "Church On Tuesday", but we'll save that for another day...like a Tuesday, perhaps). "No Way Out" -Stone Temple Pilots"I'm going under; I'm suffocating... drowning but i'm holding on." Can we talk about milk for a minute? Why did I have to see this article this morning telling me basically skim milk is bad for me ? Look, I don't even drink milk...the thought of a glass of milk is enough to make me gag. But I like it in my coffee, and I do eat the occasional bowl of cereal, so when I buy milk, I buy skim milk because I gotta get back down to my girlish figure  . I don't get this world sometimes. Down is up, left is right, hate is the new black, and less fat in your milk is bad for you. What's next, science? Are you gonna tell me snacking on milk and cookies is gonna make me smarter? If that's the case, I'll learn to get past my milk-in-a-glass phobia.  Hey, I really wasn't gonna say anything much about it, but I read something today and it kinda makes me sad...y'all might've heard of a group called the Soundtrackers here on WDC. I can't link to it anymore because the founder, Beth (The Wytch), has left WDC. It was a great group and I met a lot of cool people through it at a time when I was just starting to really increase my presence and get involved in more activities and stuff here. ♥Hooves♥ wrote a nice little entry about it today in her blog ("Invalid Entry" ) and if you run a group or forum I highly suggest you check it out. WDC is absolutely, hands down, the best, most inclusive website anywhere on the internet...go to any other website of any kind and look at their comments section, and tell me after about 43 seconds of that you're not disgusted by how crazy the rest of society is. Compare that with the environment WDC offers...no one should ever feel alone or left out here. Many of you, even if I don't see you all on a daily basis or chat too often with, I consider to be among my best friends. And I'm not sayin' it's gotta be like that for everyone, in every forum or activity, but keep it in mind...we're all here for reasons. Let's be welcoming and understanding. And Beth, I know you probably won't see this, but we miss you and everything you did for the community. You're a great person with an intelligent blog, a great sense of humor (your SPAM poetry rounds were always hilarious), and without you I might not have run into people like Charlie ~ , Cinn , Sally  , ♥Hooves♥ , Kit of House Lannister , and everyone else that's ever been a Soundtracker. It was the one thing I truly always looked forward to, and I'm sorry it's gone with Beth.  So this is disgustingly fascinating...some students in Taiwan have been collecting polluted water from different sources and froze them into popsicles for the purpose of basically calling attention to the effects of rapid urbanization. Don't lie; you know some of them look cool as hell and if they smelled nice you'd be super tempted to jam one in your facehole and get your tongue all over it. You know it .  And finally, cuz I love all y'all so much and don't ever wanna see you get stuck anywhere with no escape, I want you to have these 40 completely useless life hacks . Consider it my weekend gift to you, in the name of our continuing friendship  . Ok, well, now that I've wasted a whole ton of time because it's a Saturday and no one WDCs hard on Saturdays, I'm gonna go bother Kit of House Lannister (she'll say I'm not bothering her  ) and send her more obscene cat gifs and pics...apparently my Facebook feed this morning was full of them and needed presenting in front of me over my morning coffee. That's what she gets for being amazing . Peace, keep it, and GOODNIGHT NOW!! |
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But, with extreme shit hitting me I bury under ground and neither internet nor real life can find me then.
