The other night I decided to buy some beer so I hit an ATM and got some cash but then went straight home – no beer – and watched half of “Ancient Aliens” and went to bed.
I’m so sorry it’s come to this.
As my regular
readers reader know(s) I’ve been dating stalking a really attractive woman from Cali so I went down this past weekend and spent three days in the desert with her.
It was hot.
She was hot too – and its not just a looks thing. Some girls can say “You just don’t appeal to me in any way” and it’s just background noise/static but the way this girl says it it’s like a song or even – dare I say it – a prayer.
Needless to say, I love her.
When I mentioned that I aspire to write n’ shit and even have a couple of publication credits (n’ shit) the two things she always says are “How come I have never heard of you?” and “My mom and I lived with a famous writer when I was little and she wrote a biography/book about their time together.”
To make a long story short her mother had a serious and complicated relationship with a guy named Charles Bukowski – some dude from LA who had some moderate degree of fame/infamy in certain literary circles. A “Literary Genius” apparently – whatever that is.
Here’s her book:
I read it and it’s fascinating – less a homage to Bukowski (who has too many fanboys as it is) than a chronicle of people, places, and times – an LA waking up with speed and champagne and going to bed and with bennies and beer. Pam (sorry – I mean “Ms. Wood”) is very fair and doesn’t sugar coat anything but doesn’t judge either. It is what it is. It is also well-written.
I was fortunate enough to be gifted a copy! Pam (Ms. Wood) inscribed it with:
“Here’s your book. The answer to your question is no, he would not have liked you or read your shit. Now leave my daughter and I alone.”
How cool is that?
You can buy it here at amazon
I’ll be back soon folks – I’ve got some stuff to sort out with the INS.
Just a quick reminder – Big Pulp’s “M” #1 ships this week – you can find it here
$6 and you’ll get the deepest satisfaction you can get short of killing dangerous wild game with a flint-tipped spear and your bare f*cking hands.
Remember: When in doubt, buy Big Pulp & blow shit up.
Anthropomorphism is the attribution of human qualities to anything other than a human being – in literature it is typically done with animals or natural events. Aesop’s fables are a good place to start if you want to see anthropomorphism in action.
The reason that it is immoral is that animals aren’t humans and can’t talk. As such, it’s a deception. Think for a moment, on what life would be like if your pets really could talk. There is no reason to believe they would be kind or even helpful. Your cat for example, is probably a jerk, potty-mouthed, and likely a bit of a passive-aggressive racist.
You would be sitting there on your end of the couch, Mr. Tiddles on his and you’d be watching the news while he licked his anus with that raspy pink tongue of his, buffing that ruddy pink spider-bite to a new-car shine. Something would come on and you’d only be half paying attention when he’d stop his counter-clockwise lingual rotation and say “I just don’t trust those people!”
You would look over and say “Did you actually just say that? Did I actually just hear that?” and he’d go back to licking himself, very slowly, clockwise this time – for two complete rotations – and without ever breaking eye-contact with you (a challenge to your authority!) he’d stop and say “Why don’t you take a f*cking picture, Fatty. It’ll last longer.”
And that kind sirs and good madams, is your cat.
Don’t even get me started on your dog. If your dog was an actual person he’d repeat everything you said right back to you as a question, be obsessed with poop, and be like that kid in class the teacher shuts in a closet because he’d immediately stick his hand down his pants anytime he heard his name called, even if it was just to go into the closet for having his hand down his pants.
The above illustrate why we should not anthropomorphisize. I don’t even think anthropomorphisize is a real word. It didn’t pass spellcheck here. So don’t do it.
Now go take Mr. Tiddles to the vet and have him put down. He deserves it.
Keep the faith brothers and sisters, and I’ll be back after Watership Down is over. LOVE that movie.
I don’t talk about my day time job on my blog much – mostly because this blog is to promote my writing efforts and besides, there are only so many ways to kick a puppy. You all know the drill. However, there was an incident the other day I feel compelled to describe because it made me think of the power of words – and names especially.
Our first name – for almost all of us – is given to us by our parents. Some names we get to choose – easy examples are our email/blog names. What we choose to name ourselves – in all seriousness or just in fun – says more about us than the names bestowed upon us by others. (Conversely, what our parents name us says more about them than it does us – right “Justice’? Right “Eagle Eye”?)
One of our clients came in about a month ago to update his contact information. I sat with him and started updating the customer information screen and when we got to the email field I asked the question. He hung his head and laughed nervously – I just looked at him, waiting for the info. Finally he said “ricochetrobbie” at (some email address). I just typed it in (trust me, I’ve heard odder ones) but he felt compelled to explain:
“Oh man,” he said, with a California stoner drawl (even though we’re not in Cali), “When I was a Kid we’d play Cowboys and my cowboy name was “Ricochet Robbie” so I have always kept a variation of that as my email. Kind of silly hey?” He looked like he did, indeed, feel silly.
You know, I feel for the guy. We’re about the same age, it’s been a long tough winter, and you know what? Whatever brightens your day – it’s all good by me.
“Hey – it’s cool with me Rob” I said. “In fact, I’ve been on-line dating and “Steve Nine Plus” is my username on the website I use. Look at it this way – you really could be a cowboy. There’s time. You can buy a horse, a hat, and give it a shot. Ride off into that sunset. Me? I’m just another f*cking liar on the internet.”
We both laughed at that.
After I completed the customer information screen I brought a puppy out of the bag and we took turns punting it clear across my cubicle. Mission accomplished.Another happy customer.
Stay frosty my friends – I don’t always lie on the internet but when I do? It’s to strange women.
I want to give a quick shout-out to WITW 2014 and reblog this item. It’s an excellent group of writers and I hope I see you all there to support them. I will be in the audience, jacked up on caffeine, and ready to get rowdy.
WITW 2014 – be there!
You know how people generally plan to be benevolent should their numbers come up and they win a lottery? Everyone’s an arm-chair philanthropist who wants to help this charity or that foundation and in general sprinkle some largess around?
People do that because they hope that in some “karmic” way the promise of – or even the belief in – their own future benevolence will somehow improve their chances of winning.
Yes – I know what you are thinking and quite frankly, it’s sad.
If I win I am A) Betting – large – on the richest man entered in a puppy-kicking contest and, B) Buying a bunch of AK-47’s with 200 rounds each and sending them to some feckless Third World Civil War.
So … in a karmic way and with great faith in my own future malevolence …. I bet my chances of winning are just as bad as yours.
Gotta go – time to walk the dog!
Valentine’s Day Advice … for Single People
Disclaimer: This is easily the most mean-spirited note I have ever written! But … critics should remember that I am both thin-skinned and violent.
Ok peeps – it’s that day again. Roses and chocolate for the lucky few! But what about … the “others’”? What then shall we have? What then shall we do? Fortunately – I am here with a few suggestions to alleviate what might otherwise be a day of intolerable loneliness.
1) Sit on the couch with a pint of strawberry Haagen-Dazs and your two cats watching re-runs of “House” … otherwise known as the “Married Woman’s Valentine’s Day”
He’s actually British and, I assume , as gay as a French horn. Not for you ladies, not for you.
2) Write out a list of all the qualities you want in a potential mate … just remember to title it “How to Die Alone” because that’s what happens to persnickety list-makers. But the list making will feel good now and the dying alone will come after. So go on and write out your list now!
3) Play computer games or work on “the car” (by which I mean hang out in the garage with a beer and some tunes) and not have sex … otherwise known as “The Married Man’s Valentine’s Day”.
4) Female singletons may wish to pay a debonair and erudite middle-aged man (scroll down and see the picture on the right margin of this blog) for an evening of witty repartee and the kind of sexual favors you’d be embarrassed to ask for if they were free …
5) Male singletons may wish to crawl up a chicken’s ass and wait their turn!
6) You could go to the gym. Seriously – when people say “I need a bf” or “I need a gf” I always say “… then join a gym, get a decent haircut, and get the hell off of the computer … now!”
7) Get a dog! Seriously – they’re way more demanding than people but people who can’t get along with other people can always get a dog. And some peanut butter. But I digress …
PSA: Chocolate Labs Have no Redeeming Qualities Whatsoever. None.
8) Listen to Pearl Jam’s “Black” over and over again … until you die of melancholy. Seriously! “My bitter hands/Cradle the broken glass/Of what was everything”. I feel guilty for even suggesting it.
9) Creep your exes Facebook! Or, if that would violate the restraining order, creep your friend’s Facebooks looking at their hot friends of the opposite gender! (Otherwise known as “Facebook’s Reason for Being!”)
10) Get good and fucking baked and start writing that novel. Misery does not love company – it loves bad narrative! Poetry? If you write poetry that’s probably why you’re alone. So don’t even bring it up!
So there ya go peeps! 10 ways to spend a productive Valentine’s Day by yourself. Remember – it’s a commercial holiday anyways … right? Right?
… right … ?
I’ll be back once the ransom is paid!
I was re-organizing the pantry and found some gluten-free pasta that was “BEST BEFORE NOV ’13”. I thought back to Leviticus where God says “The Lord hateth a coward” and “Waste not want not” so I cooked that sh** up and ate the hell out of it.
If I don’t make it I want you guys – all of you who follow my blog – to know you were all really cool. Even the uncool ones. You were cool too in your own hard-to-define way. Peace out. Go Bruins!
OK HWL fans – it’s been a year of blogging and during that time Askimet has protected me from just short of 1,100 spam comments.
Other than that not much happened.
I reviewed my stats and the most popular post of the year was my “Dating for the Single Writer” post (you can see it here) Followed closely by my “Rock Bottom: The Online Dating Post” (you can see that one here). This is newsworthy because I started this blog to support my literary efforts and all anyone is actually interested is in what can charitably be described as “prurience”.
Oddly, my “Wherein I Describe the Difference Between Fiction, Non-Fiction, and Poetry” was my 3rd most popular blog entry. You are a high-minded group … when you’re not pervin’. I did not hyper-link to that – Y’all exercise your brain muscles and look it up if you need to.
WordPress actually shows you search terms that lead people to your blog – one of my faves was “How to make a nice dating profile”. It warmed the cockles of my heart – maybe even the sub-cockles – to think of that poor person stumbling on to “Rock Bottom” via that google search.
But rather than say “F*ck You I’m closing my blog and going home” (i.e. “rage-quitting” as the kids call it these days) I’m going to throw in a bonus clip – an item originally edited out of my “Rock Bottom” post – the top 5 dating profile headlines rejected by the censors at dating sites I’ve used.
Top 5 Rejected Dating Profile Headlines:
- Foot Perv Seeks Hairy Gal!
- Help! Just Killed a Guy and Need A Place to Lie Low!
- Anal? Just Thought I’d Throw That Out There LOL … But No, Seriously … Anal?
- I Might Not Be What You Want But I am Better Than What You Deserve – Think About That One For a While
- Just Shoot me. I Beg You.
You think about how many times those lines have had to have been used in order to attract the ban-stick and it says something … about human nature. Something profound.
My bold prediction is that the rallying cry of women everywhere who are covered in 10-foot pole marks and the smudges of the burnt bridges and fiery train wrecks they’ve left in their wake that goes “If You Can’t Handle Me At My Worst You Don’t Deserve Me At My Best” – will be banned by next year. Seriously, that’s like a murderer saying “I’m a murderer – it’s allowed” as a defense. I see that “Handle me at My Worst” on those e-card things that plague Facebook – usually followed by similar cards that proclaim the complimentary virtues of wine imbibed alone and a passive-aggressive brand of assholery.
But I digress.
I want to thank each and every one of you who stopped by, commented, and otherwise made it a fun year.
Here’s lookin’ at you, kids!