I’m Going Nutty
“What if squirrels are just dragons without wings.” I was asked this by a grown adult; I haven’t been able to ignore it since that day. Whenever I see a squirrel I have to watch them just in case they spray a molten blast of fire. Now, I don’t actually watch them for that reason, but I do watch them… a lot. I know their hiding places. I can identify them by appearance. I know their family’s hereditary traits (bleach white tails that eventually turn gray which is unique to family that has their nest above my garage).
My bedroom is the basement, and where a normal person would have put their bedroom, I have placed my office (I am asleep, why would a sleeping person care about the view). My office looks out on my backyard. From my vantage point I can see wildlife, my garden, and depending on the season, wonderful old trees or a parking lot. But the thing that I really care about year round is the squirrels. The birds are pretty dope too but the tiny dragons have stolen my heart with their backwards claws, flicky tails, and scurrying through the treetops.
I’ve imagined them fighting the birds for supremacy of the yard. Sparkles, my lovely cat, begs me to let her out so she can “play” with them, but we don’t need the final boss to show up in this RPG. In general, my imagination runs wild as I sit on a call and the squirrels come to visit. It’s gotten to the point where I know different squirrels and their story (or the story I applied to them). [Click “Read More” to navigate these nuts]
(more…)Beefcake Bernie
Bernard isn’t dead, to my knowledge, because I don’t think many things could take down that monster of a groundhog. I’ve obviously used the term Beefcake Bernie in a variety of posts for 2020, but that’s kind of because, he was the bane of my existence in 2019. A monster unleashed on my garden, forged in the fires of Mordor, and trained by George Foreman. Bernie was a true nemesis and pushed me to my breaking point.
But since this year is a garbage fire, I figured I would share a heart warming story of how I didn’t murder the fucker but eventually triumphed. Obviously, if I wanted to, I could have killed Bernie; to do so, I would have needed the Infinity Gauntlet, all the Infinity Stones, and the will to wipe out half of you, but eventually I would have gotten him. Now, since I don’t want to kill 50% of the people on the planet, I went a different route – trapping and relocating.
Before we get into the End Game, I want to give you a little taste of Bernie’s appetite. Beefcake started his life out as a tiny little groundhog. My backyard is fully enclosed, no gate, nothing, just a tall wooden fence, and in that fence there are some gaps that I’ve never seen anything slipped through. My friend however, in 2019, was out back reading and noticed that a baby groundhog is the perfect size to get into the garden.
They’re adorable.
But they’re assholes. Beefcake Bernie made his debut as a cute little nugget who came upon the Garden of Eden by chance. I had 60 plants, all heirlooms, and he loved them.
At first, I wasn’t worried. He eventually would grow to big to fit through the fence. My only hope was that this growth spurt would happen when he was on the other side of the fence. I lost a couple of peppers, a whole tomato plant that Bernie knocked over trying to get to a fruit, but then his reign of terror ended. With relative peace in my homestead, I went back to tending to my young plants. [For more on Bernard, click “Read More”]
(more…)Wonderful Colors
People love talking about growth: cities, facial hair, finger nails, waist lines, love, and all sorts of shit. For some reason, we have innate appreciation for humans who consistently evolve through life. Folks talk less about the more depressing topic of devolution or stagnation of human curiosity. It’s always about: “try something new” or “get a new hobby” or “try that thing you’ve always wanted to try”.
Luckily for you folks, it is 2020 and I can’t write a post shitting on the human condition because no one needs that (including me). However, I am going to talk about gardening (I was doing it before 2020, and by doing it, I mean failing at it). Previously, I talked about the fact that every 2020 crap cloud has a slightly bronze lining and we need to grab onto those slightly good things and embrace them. For me, one of those was gardening (I’ve been baking my own bread since 2012).
In my return post, Been a Minute, I talked heavily about my gardening and how working from home had given me the ability to monitor the garden more than if I had been in the office: catching two groundhogs (relocated humanely to a local forest) and plugging their hole permanently.
I rather not dive into the battle of “Beefcake Bernie and the Tomato Plants of 2019” but dig into the garden and why I wanted one: I like to eat, I want to eat unique things that cannot be found in a store, heirlooms taste better but are expensive at the farmers market, I have land to support my own garden, and I prefer eating food than looking at flowers (also I save money). That’s the basics and my initial reasoning for jumping into a garden.
Yet, that’s not all that happened, it strengthened a friendship. It made me appreciate and enrich the love I have for two humans and their little one. It blows my mind thinking back on it, but we all love the same thing: food… why did it take this long to fortify this friendship.
To take a quick aside, since this post won’t be about friendships but about me, I have relied on these two so much that it is important to give them a call out. I wouldn’t have the garden I have without their innate knowledge, their experience, and, most importantly, their willingness to share that experience and wisdom with me. Without them, I never would have vined my tomato plants when they outgrew their cages, I wouldn’t have pruned my suckers, and I wouldn’t have achieved the harvest I am still eating today. So, from the bottom of my heart: I love you Randy and Kristine, thank you so much.
Now back to me, but remember as you read this, that I didn’t achieve this by myself. It took a village (of two and their little one). [click “Read More” to be philosophized]
(more…)Fun Names for Stuff
Bean bag, nut sack, huevos, cajaones, family jewels, balls, nuts… even testicles is fun. Yet, when I was talking to my nurse practitioner about my testis (not for fun but for medical reasons – even I have a line), she called the ovaries: things.
Now, this kicked off a weird philosophical inquiry for myself. I assume the average person wouldn’t have tossed into a sea of doubt because ovaries are indeed: things. But, it bothers me on a weird level.
For one, testicles and ovaries start as the same thing and during the formation of a human being they transform. Now, I am not a medical professional, but I did take a health class in Junior High. Also, I have the internet, and in my search for validation, I realized I missed one of my favorite terms: gonads. Also, I did confirm the above statement – all of our gonads start off as the same thing and then morph into other our bits.
So, why all the talk about our happy bits? Simple, during my time with the medical professional I could rattle off multiple names for the testis but nothing fun for ovaries. Ovaries are the female version of balls, but I have no fun names to call them. So I set on a quest to understand why this is the case; I didn’t try very hard in my adventure.
Many folks pointed out that they aren’t an external form of genitalia so they don’t get the screen time of say: breasts. Which makes sense to me but still bothers me. Of all the genitals testis have countless names, we even can leverage slang from foreign languages (there are two at the top of this post), and a huge tell is that our cute names aren’t demeaning (breasts aren’t bags).
So, why don’t we have fun names for ovaries? And if we do and I am just missing them, fire a tweet at me. If you also can’t think of some, let’s start a thing; I’ll go first egg holsters.
Theodore is back in the saddle and asking the simple questions.
Fuck, I ate Another
I don’t want you inside me; you are the incarnation of sadness. A simple bite of your flame broiled patty answer’s the question of Satan’s existence with a resounding: yes. With each chew, it becomes clear that they’ve perfected torture. This abomination came from Hell’s Kitchen… not the good one.
Like a shame filled conquest, I leave your drive-through and other options reveal themselves; the grass beside the porta-potty that has a hole in the reservoir probably has more flavor. But I can’t seem to ignore that sweet 2 for 6. It pains me. I know your not a deal because you won’t fill my sad void but enlarge it. Once done, my abyss will have grown deeper, wider, and darker.
Yet, I put you inside me regularly. Why? Simple, marketing.
(more…)Been a Minute… or a Year
2020 Blarg, am I right? Totes, this year is Garbage Town, USA… but, I would be lying if I dumped everything into the proverbial trash fire that has been this year and pretend like there haven’t been peaks (and a lot of valleys).
In general, we are all strapped to a table, our junk hanging out, a madman is sitting at a tennis ball launcher full of a million lemons, and our genitals are the target. Are we all making lemonade out of the constant bombardment on our bits? Obviously not, people are struggling and to sit here and say: “But on the good side” is not helpful.
Yet, I never take my own advice. Since, I am on my own site writing a blog post for the first time in over a year; I would say I’ve ended up in a place that may be trending toward stability (not healthy necessarily, just stable). Yes, I am breaking my rules; one of which is to never drink while writing (hello Mister Manhattan). But, extraordinary conditions lead to fantastically delicious cocktails.
Now, I believe we must find the good in all situations; even if you are knee deep in a tonne of shit, you should be able to find joy in the fact that the visible specks of corn are reminiscent of the stars – what a fun coincidence. While the world burns down around us, we must take time to understand the sudden shift in society and how it positively impacts us (there are negatives, but don’t focus on those). And as for positives, don’t try to do a big bang, relish in the simple joys: a walk with a loved one, conversation, or the ability to take on that project you always postponed. Find the good in those moments, you’re allowed to be sad and slightly happy.
Now we’ve reached the point where I tell you how productive I’ve been, which would be a lie. Just doing basic things I love is nearly impossible – I haven’t written fiction all year. Like most of us, I picked up a gardening habit (I already was a baker far before the pandemic), and I suffer extreme swings where motivating myself is about as useful as trying to fuck a rock (depending on the rock, sometimes you can break through).
Yet, when my first tomato turned red, I was ecstatic. I watched it from my window and I checked daily for any problem. I would be on a work call, and I would have to go out and see how it was doing. Legit, I talked to a tomato. If I had been in the office, I never would have seen that a groundhog was in my yard. In the previous year, I was unable to stand watch over my garden because I was in the office, and no matter what I did, a groundhog ravaged all my veggies (I got nothing out of 40 plants). So, when I was stuck at home and able to focus on my plants, that single tomato was the proof that my trapping (groundhogs were safely relocated to a local forest), defense construction (try and move 80 pounds of rock you fucking oversized rodent), and constant care was worth it. 2020 gave my my first major production of vegetables, and for that, I am grateful.
In the end, 2020 is a year of evaluation and understanding. I started off by dropping 10 pounds and quickly gained it back by Sad Dashing, instead of cooking you order takeout and just drink on the couch because you’re fucking sad, and now I am back in a productivity cycle. This year is a cycle of nightmares and nightmarish dreams. But, we don’t need to add to each-other’s diarrhea laden swamp. So don’t crap on people or around them, praise the little steps and make sure to check in and make sure they okay (none of us are okay).
For me, I need to focus on myself, and in order to make the nightmare slightly better, I am going to update my website, add more blog posts, and in general start writing more. It’s the best I can do, and since I used this standing desk I built as an excuse to not write until I got made it, I no longer can justify not writing.
Cheers, don’t be too hard on yourself, it sucks out there but humanity always ends up moving forward. At least you don’t have to worry about dying because the King is a dick… well… not yet at least.
The Storm of Death
I’ve lost a lot of people in the last year around me, and awhile ago, I lost my brother. Whenever I mention my brother, I don’t pull my punches and say he “died” instead of “passed on”. Mostly because I think we need to be faced with the harsh reality of death and that we are mortal pieces of flesh. Now, I wrote my first manuscript (Primo Capite and the Others) and used terms like flesh, corpse, or meat in order to drive home the fact that we are mortal – for certain reasons that book will never be released (mostly it isn’t written well and it has some mistakes due to the use of tropes). However, the terminology was to drive home the reality that we aren’t immortal… but our memories are. [click “Read More” to get my personal philosophy on how to handle death]
(more…)My Condolences
This will be a quick one, stop saying “I’m sorry” unless you add in “I’m sorry for your loss”. However, that still isn’t a great way to speak to someone. The reason is simple, saying sorry is an implying of fault; you say sorry when you step on a toe because you did something to the other person. You say sorry when you cheated on someone and ripped their heart out of their chest. So, unless you have the cure to the ailment the person is suffering from but didn’t give it to them or you actually caused their death, don’t say “I’m sorry”. Instead, might I suggest you say “my condolences” as it is a far superior term. As someone who had to hear, “I’m sorry” about one hundred times in a single day, I find the phrase false and empty – but the fact that you were there to say it means more than anything else.
So, just show up and be present, share a memory and if you say “I’m sorry” that’s okay too (but you should choose a better phrase).
Chronological Order
While writing Manuscript 8, I realized that the story I wanted to tell was much larger than my initial scope (maybe not in words, but in content). Perhaps it was a weird place I ended up, but I felt that the novel needed to go deeper and deeper into the two main characters and their struggle. I began to spiral and twist in the wind. Knowing what I wanted to do, I had to decide what to do with Manuscript 8: 1) to keep going with sheer willpower or 2) take a break and research the necessary non-fiction to make that novel rich and multifaceted.
I chose the latter, and I ended up moving forward with Manuscript 9. Which has thrown me into a confounding predicament: which one came first? I’ve had this feeling before when I thought about how my manuscripts would be listed on a website or in the front of a book. But this is even more problematic because, in that situation, you could use the publication date to add their chronological order.
But here, in my internal filing system, I have two manuscripts and I jumped over an incomplete version to focus on the next one in the list. I fully plan to go back to Manuscript 8 and have been researching it, but can I still call it Manuscript 8? [Click “Read More” to… well… watch me spiral]
(more…)New Category – In Memoriam
Writing is how I deal with loss and questions. I don’t know why, but when I hear of loss, my first thing to do is write haiku; perhaps it is me attempting to emblazon my feelings into a notebook at that moment in time and never let them slip away or be corrupted. Now, I’ve shared these haikus before but didn’t call them out as being for a specific person or the passing of that person. Moving forward, and with heavy heart, I have created a new category: In Memoriam to better help me tag and organize these memories. I have been contemplating this for a couple of years and finally decided that I would be implementing the new category due to losses around me recently. I don’t want to use it much and I may not use it at all (these feelings tend to be raw and I am not sure I do want to share them).