Month: July 2019

Karen Crouch

I’ve always been a fan of alliteration, especially when it comes to heroes. A name is a signifier: Billy Batson, Dinah Drake, Peter Parker. When it separates from that flow it is an indication that there is a quality not quite right about the hero: Bruce Wayne is a clear example. Clark Kent is another form of that–sounding right but not looking right, an indication that something is indeed off. Karen is after a fashion of this. She lives in an America of tomorrow where cities are great sprawling walled things patrolled by teams of heroes. Every city worth living in has its own heroes and in the dustlands between there is little mroe resembling order than the power of one’s weapons. This version of America is deeply incorporated, with many cities backing the corporations that back the heroes.

This is an old idea, one that feels (sadly) familiar to Ennis’ TV version of The Boys in that corporate sense. However, the roots of it lay closer to the sports affiliations of my youth. Karen Crouch is a new character in that very old world.

Karen never thought she would wind up a hero. She was a thief growing up. She lived hand to mouth on whatever she could steal, because her parents never bothered to take care of her. They were too busy living their lives–spending their earnings on trips and always leaving her behind. They stopped booking a babysitter when she turned 10. They told her she was old enough to take care of herself now. They’d pop in every few days to check up on her–make sure she was okay. Once in a while they’d bring home clothes or a bag of groceries–something to indicate they still cared if she lived or died.

Her first power manifested when she turned 12. She was shoplifting from a candy store when the owner saw her and started coming towards her. She backed away quickly and when she hit the wall behind her it gave her a fright. Next thing she knew she was back in her bedroom. She didn’t learn how to control it for another two years and then only by sight. Nothing like the fear magic which dragged her back to her room happened again for a very long time. The next time it happened was when her second power manifested.

I have so many tabs open that it is a wonder my computer continues to perform at all. The cluttered desk has been swapped for the cluttered homescreen and, by extension, the disjointed panoply of windows ranging from subjects as benign as MLA format to deep research on 538.com. All of this, referentially, offers a clearer understanding of my confused consciousness. I learn more about myself as I learn about the way I do things and learn about the people around me. It turns out that I was just raised different. Part of that is a response to my mother’s conditioning, the location of upbringing, and the friends that skidded across my life. Part of that is just genetics. I am who I am and, as I first noticed in college, I’m different.

Not all of that difference is good. I can be a complete mess at times. I can also get stuff done. As I age up I tend to lean more towards mess and the memory of getting stuff done. Just recently I was chided for bringing up the effort I put in back in College. That was at least two decades ago. To quote Eddie Murphy (quoting Paula Abdul) ‘What have you done for me lately’

While I’m mind cloud hopping towards Eddie, I found myself watching his ‘Party all the time’ video with my kids on the way out of a movie this weekend and, well, they were straight up mesmerized and confused. Eddie and by extension Jamie Foxx represent a bygone era of performers I hope to see come round again.

Well, now I am just babbling. What is a reflection but a babble based on the day (and by extension life) you’ve experienced thus far. In fact, what is literature but more of such? Okay… maybe that last part was too far.

Sitting in my office on a Sunday afternoon writing this blog next to a bowl of Ramen. It is the last day I will see my boys before they go back to school this Thursday. What should be a relaxed and happy–even somewhat anticipatory–Sunday afternoon feels incredibly rushed and harried, because of, well, me. I have other stuff on my mind. I have other responsibilities to tend to, and that is taking away from this moment. It shows me that I need to go back to work on being present. If I am not 100% present and instead focusing on what needs to be done next, I am losing the moments I have in life. Part of that means separating out more time to plan and prepare for the everyday stuff I need to attend to in my life. I don’t always do that effectively. When left to my own devices I tend to shut down in one of three ways: I slip into the void of a TV show and binge till completion. I head for videogame space and enjoy that. Finally, I can go into a corner and write. The final way seems to never happen anymore and it is generally one of the first two.

As I am a compulsive person there is is little moderation in these activities. I need to develop a better sense of moderation so that everything else is not so compressed into me not being 100% present and not being capable of being that way.

There was a moment right at the start where I wanted to run. Not out of fear, mind you. This was more like the anticipation you get when we meet eyes with someone on the street and you can tell they think they know you and are about to offer that first awkward question. I was the one who offered the question. I’d been roaming the aisles at Walmart for the last 15 minutes, trying to work things out on my own before I had to ask the white-haired man if he could help me. I said excuse me, and he turned to me, somewhat startled. The tag on his shirt read ‘Hector’ but he looked more like a Bob or maybe an Archie. He was clean shaven with small eyes hiding behind ancient folds of skin. He could’ve been sixty or eighty for as much as I understood aging. To me anyone cresting the rim of thirty was was already aging out of my reality.

Not-Archie said, “Hello, may I help you?”

I hesitated before I replied, knowing the question would lead to more, but unable to find another way. “I’m looking for dusting slippers.”

His forehead scrunched up, wrinkles mashing into more wrinkles like spiderweb cracks on a windshield. I smiled politely and waited for an answer. When none came I asked again. He said, “What would you even do with such a thing?”

I thought the answer was obvious.

Charlie Greene

Get past the jokes. They came, surprisingly, late in life. His 28th birthday to be specific. That night his friend Andrew took him out to a party and they met a couple of people. One in particular looked like he was straight out of central casting for ex jocks. That was the guy who spit out his beer drawing the connection. He laughed all night.

Charlie went home with his girl.

He wasn’t that type either. Charlie was less manipulator and womanizer than rescue subject. When Charlie was sad people automatically wanted to save him. She’d saved him that night. Kept saving him for the next 7 years until they walked down the aisle, into the maternity ward, back out again with twins in tow, and, finally, into divorce court where she claimed mental and physical abuse. The cause of this abuse? Another woman had wandered back into his life wanting to save him: His mother.

Until that day Charlie hadn’t realized that Mother-in-law could be a justification for divorce. He took it as a sign and opted to be alone for a while. He didn’t fight her for custody of the twins. He didn’t even get to see them more than once a year. So distant were the visits that it fed into the deadbeat dad narrative. He wasn’t though–not in the financial sense. He did well enough as a day trader to pay considerable amount of Alimony and child support. Once when the kids were four, he believed, he tried to come visit them outside of his time. His ex, Sheila, explained to him that the reason they were divorced was because of things exactly like this. He lacked social tact. In truth he lacked social circles for most of his life. There’d been Andrew for a while there, but he was gone now. Brooklyn, Charlie thought….

Some Thoughts:

1. Gotta get faster at these. Time runs out just as I hit a groove.

To start, the double click is a growing nightmare. Once again I only clicked once and failed to actually publish Waiver Wednesday, so here I am deep into Thursday night trying to publish a late blog. This is the way things go when I am drained and or deeply anticipating something. I’ve been deeply anticipating the move to the new house. Not only is it a fresh start, but we have a pool! I know the ‘new’ of a pool will wear off, but by then it will be cold again and when it gets hot again I’ll feel like it is a new new!

Now that we have completed the heavy lifting all I feel is drained. My body is kind of a mess these days. I recognize that I am on a dangerous path. I can see it in my habits and actions. I can also see how far I am from others who are suffering from their habits. In short, I’m very privileged and very lucky to live the life I do. I am grateful for each day I get to live it.

Some Thoughts:

1. The newest thing in ASMR is a series of chiropractors close recording their sessions so we hear the cracks. Nuts. Strangely enticing to hear the pop though. Take this as something that feels like what I do to myself all the time and makes me feel a little more normal to know others do it… of course listening to it is very much not normal despite the 300K plus views. How many of those are bots?
2. Now that I’m on the chiro kick I am thinking about how long it will be before I go back and get mine done.
3. That is the thing with algorithms. One day this sort of thing just showed up in my feed–after I was having back problems. The algorithm (as I call it) adjusts to my search criteria and shows me what it thinks I want to see–or more likely what it thinks will convince me to buy X,Y, Z.

So… I’m back in the fantasy game.

I took a long time away from the game and now I am ready to return. I think a catalyst of this is being asked to play (naturally). That is part of the story but the rest is really about the way players I enjoy moving across the league in interesting ways. I am excited about a number of WRs and RBs for sure. I don’t know the rules for the new league, but I know that I am going to devise a strategy to be successful.

One player to look at for sure is Browns WR Jarvis Landry. So much attention is focused on Beckham and what he might do, but Landry might be the best slot in the game. His hands, his routes… the dude can cause damage. The problem is he was set up to be a stretch 1 in the O set, and that is not his strength.

RB? That is a really good question. Obviously the Giants have a top 5 guy, but he is gonna be a first rounder. I am looking for B-list guys who can excel in their system. I’m looking at Gordon’s backup out in San Diego for starters..

At any rate, it is good to be back.

Some Thoughts:

1. There is a mosquito buzzing around my office. It has been here for days and I cannot kill it. I think it is going to win. I think it is going to drive me insane… or kill me…

I will be spending some time at Alcor today. For those who don’t know it, Alcor Life Extension is on the forefront of Cryonics research and storage. The latest book from Neal Stephenson riffs on Alcor quite a bit as a way to introduce (and apparently dismiss) the notion of cryonics in our lifetime. It all has me thinking about my life time and what that means.

Here is a strange truth: I was ready to die last night. I was wrapped in the arms of the love of my life. I was comfortable and I’d had a good day and I had reflected in that moment that if this was to be the end, it would be a good end. In retrospect, I have shit to do. Still, it all got me thinking about the world I live in and if the now sits on the precipice of something really terrible–some fall–or if this is simply the latest in a cycle that happens throughout time. Let’s be clear: Trump is not the first populist with a divisive bent to run a world power. Having Trump and now Boris Johnson at the lead of two of the most important (socially speaking, because of what GB has historically represented not that they have as much power anymore… China be flexing, y’all) nations be of a similar mind does bug. It does bring to mind WW II. Still, that also means we have been here before.

That brings me to Alcor. What they do is ‘preserve’ people so they can be returned to active status at some point in the future. However, it remains unclear what that future would look like. So I am left to wonder, is now as good as it gets? Will a hundred years from now be better for us as a nation? For me as an individual? The haunting part of that conversation is that I’d be living side by side with my great (great?) grandchildren in 100 years. I cannot truly abide by such a reality. This was the reality faced by the protagonist in the film Interstellar and that dude opted to leave the galaxy instead of living alongside his descendants. I get that.

I don’t know that I am truly ready to die. I feel more and more like I am opposed to being frozen and returning to a time and place where I feel so vastly out of place. It would pain me to leave all my connections behind and start anew. Isn’t that, after all, a sort of death?

I have a lot to say today but nothing feels like it deserves a blog of its own. So…

Some Thoughts:

1. I really enjoy the fact that this has gone on so long–especially the thought list, which is entirely credited to Peter King who did something similar on his Monday Morning QB column. I’m a format guy. If I can find a format or a shape of a thing that works then I can do it forever. Thanks, Peter. Or more formally: Thanks, Mr. King
2. I can say that a lot. Thanks Mr. Stephen King as well. you’ve got it going on. I love your words. Most recently I love what you had to say about Trump. he wrote, “Trump’s worldview simplified: If you disagree with my policies, you hate America. Because I AM America.” This is exactly correct. I’m using Trump in future writing as the guy who developed power simply because people were wounded by a confluence of factors that made them feel vulnerable and he represented that anger and divisiveness that made them feel safer than the alternative. In other words, I plan to speak true in my characters.
3. My cat is throwing a serious fit right now. The weather outside is approaching Haboob levels and she is either lonely, terrified, or both. She won’t come downstairs because of the dog. We’ve had to separate the two with a gate. She’s just not about that dog life. Now she is apparently not about that Dust storm life either.
4. I’m winding down a Shadowrun project. With the end in site I should be excited but I am not. I feel like this is/has taken too long. I feel slow in the writing and I ought to do something about that. But what?
5. This really has to be the last season for football for at least 1 kid. We have football stuff forever it seems. Once he starts the H.S. stuff it is definitely going to be a major reduction. It might not feel that way because one more kid is playing. Of course there are always school sports but that involvement is much limited. I cannot see the other kid going more than one more season before he dives headlong into middle school sports and ends his so-called youth sports career. Maybe it is a good thing. I have other things in life to accomplish outside of this and this, while I love it, is in the way.

I’ve been giving some thought to the transformation and commercialization of comic books as of late. I’ve been thinking about what they were when I was a kid and what they are now. I think the way that I am approaching this thought process is somewhat flawed. I am thinking about it in terms of profit and in terms of opening doors to new media/new opportunities. In fact, I’ve been down that thought road quite a lot lately. I think I’ve been looking at things through the lenses of money and opportunity more than through that of story. It is an odd realization, because story is why I came to the page in the first place. I’m not going to pretend like I didn’t care about people reading my stuff. I always wanted people to read my stories and like them, but I wanted to write them more than I wanted them to be liked, and I never factored wealth into the equation. Hell, back then I thought I’d get mine playing football.

These days I get mine teaching writing and critical thinking. I’ve gotten worse at that over the years–lost the focus and interest that I had when I came into it. I got jaded. I still love teaching and especially love teaching creative writing (i’ve gotten much better at that). I think that somewhere along the line I got wrapped up in the idea of being published and selling stories more than writing stories. In essence I became a word mercenary. If you know anything about mercenaries you know that they aren’t tethered to promoting an idea or a philosophical mission. They are for hire workers. I’ve been that guy for a very long time; so long that I’ve largely forgotten how to be any other kind of writer. That saddens me.

I believe this year ought to be more about writing my stuff (and figuring out what that is) instead of writing so much for other people’s worlds. It is time to break through the atmosphere of my own.