Wednesday, July 31, 2013
Cinematic Gold
This used to be one of my favorite movies. I have to admit, it is exactly what I remember it to be.
Monday, July 22, 2013
New Out in the Garage Description (in progress)
I just wrote this but I felt that it was pertinent to share it with you (as well as update the description on my BOOKS page). My goal was to write a more enticing, professional-sounding description of my book, and I think I have accomplished that (just go back and find the various other versions, strewn about throughout this blog). This description will also be the one on Amazon and all the other websites as well as the one on the back of the book. Anyways, here is the direction I am going, and I think this turned out very well (we'll see if it is the one I actually end up using):
Lance Adamson was born in the 80's, stranded in Nodtown. There, he lives with his mom and Grandpa Harry at Grandpa Harry's house. He spends most of his time playing drums -- when he's not in school, anyways -- jamming with Grandpa Harry, who plays bass, but it is the furthest thing from cool. While Grandpa Harry is the one who took Lance out to the garage for the first time and taught him how to play -- how to really play, how to let the music carry him away -- to Grandpa Harry, jazz is religion, and, nowadays, all Lance really wants to do is rock out. Wayne, Lance's best friend, plays trumpet with them -- but he is actually more of a guitarist. He plays that thing as often as other dudes masturbate. Lance and Wayne could totally start the greatest band in rock n' roll history, except that Grandpa Harry will never let that happen, not in that garage, anyway. Lance knows that it's time for a change...
Of the various different versions I have written, I think this one is my favorite. It sets up the story but doesn't really give anything away.
Lance Adamson was born in the 80's, stranded in Nodtown. There, he lives with his mom and Grandpa Harry at Grandpa Harry's house. He spends most of his time playing drums -- when he's not in school, anyways -- jamming with Grandpa Harry, who plays bass, but it is the furthest thing from cool. While Grandpa Harry is the one who took Lance out to the garage for the first time and taught him how to play -- how to really play, how to let the music carry him away -- to Grandpa Harry, jazz is religion, and, nowadays, all Lance really wants to do is rock out. Wayne, Lance's best friend, plays trumpet with them -- but he is actually more of a guitarist. He plays that thing as often as other dudes masturbate. Lance and Wayne could totally start the greatest band in rock n' roll history, except that Grandpa Harry will never let that happen, not in that garage, anyway. Lance knows that it's time for a change...
Of the various different versions I have written, I think this one is my favorite. It sets up the story but doesn't really give anything away.
Friday, July 19, 2013
ISBOA
I am on a roll here, it has been like three days in a row, now, that I have updated this.
It seemed high time that I should get a bit saucy, so here it goes. This blog has officially been saucified. There, it's been done. It's irreversible.
Now that the saucification has been asserted, and then doubly or triply verified, I will be eligible for membership in the International Saucy Blog Owners of America (ISBOA).
Then, as other members of ISBOA, I will gain the full authority to officially verify the saucy levels of another persons blog and deem that person eligible for the group, or not. We're not that picky so we're more like the Masons than the Illuminati. And we're saucier than either of those groups, so there's that bonus of being a member of ISBOA.
Needless to say there are a lot of hipsters who are members, because, let's face it, who else are saucier than hipsters, other than, say, drag queens?
ISBOA FOR LIFE!
xoxoxo
Okay, shit... ISBOA just disbanded. We are no longer a group. It seems like, combined, we had too much sauciness than even we could handle.
Well, it looks like I have to become a drag queen now.
It seemed high time that I should get a bit saucy, so here it goes. This blog has officially been saucified. There, it's been done. It's irreversible.
Now that the saucification has been asserted, and then doubly or triply verified, I will be eligible for membership in the International Saucy Blog Owners of America (ISBOA).
Then, as other members of ISBOA, I will gain the full authority to officially verify the saucy levels of another persons blog and deem that person eligible for the group, or not. We're not that picky so we're more like the Masons than the Illuminati. And we're saucier than either of those groups, so there's that bonus of being a member of ISBOA.
Needless to say there are a lot of hipsters who are members, because, let's face it, who else are saucier than hipsters, other than, say, drag queens?
ISBOA FOR LIFE!
xoxoxo
Okay, shit... ISBOA just disbanded. We are no longer a group. It seems like, combined, we had too much sauciness than even we could handle.
Well, it looks like I have to become a drag queen now.
Thursday, July 18, 2013
Wednesday, July 17, 2013
Erotica
Eh, life. Isn't it grand? No, that's a serious question. I think sometimes a person forgets that can happen. He forgets that life doesn't have to be about what shit he is going through, because, in general, life itself is all hard and disappointing and whatever. But then there is also those few fleeting moments of happiness, and hopefully he has enough of them close enough together that just when he starts to come down from the last one, he has a new one to renew his faith that there is any meaning to existence at all. And once he knows what that feels like, then he tries to carry it with him and remind himself of it when the reality doesn't match up to the state-of-mind.
Tuesday, July 9, 2013
Out in the Garage vs. The Millennial, the Final Round
"In this corner, with 52,441 words and 196 pages, the former heavy-weight champion of the world, the toned-down, character-focused, story-focused, literary version of my first novel, six years in the making -- a version of the version I entered in the Amazon contest and is the culmination of all of my education, life experience, and the advice I have been given as a writer by other writers who have read it -- we have Out in the Garage!"
Out in the Garage raises it's arms and the crowd shoots to its feet and screams and cheers.
"In the other corner, we have the current defender, with 57,755 words and 191 pages, which based on a past edition of the novel that has driven me nearly mad over the last six years, the edition before I let anyone else read it, the edition the snarls and growls and throws it's middle finger high in the air, shouting profanity and bragging about how it had sex with Out in the Garage's mother, the version that defies all advice, the version that shows it's genitals to anyone who is looking and shit's on the doorstep of every convent and church it comes across, the version that makes other versions laugh nervous and cry at night, the one, the only... The Millennial!"
The Millennial poops in his hand and throws it on an old lady; the crowd boos and throws garbage. The Millennial picks up a half eaten hot dog, holds it to its crotch, and then takes a bite, and throws the rest at the manuscript across the ring, hitting Out in the Garage in the face.
"Okay," the referee says as the manuscripts move to the center ring. "No biting, hitting below the belt, using body fluids as weapons, and absolutely no Shakespeare quotes!"
"Fuck Shakespeare!"
"Right!"
"Okay," the referee says, "Now shake hands... Now let's get it on!"
DING!
The Millennial whips out its penis and immediately charges towards the other manuscript, which moves out of the way at the last moment, holding it's foot out and tripping up The Millennial, which flies out of the ring and straight into a paper shredder, who is its trainer. The Millennial is immediately shredded to death.
"Okay, that was quick, but we have a winner!" The referee raises Out in the Garage's hand and
the crowd cheers and immediately begins to file out of the arena.
Out in the Garage raises it's arms and the crowd shoots to its feet and screams and cheers.
"In the other corner, we have the current defender, with 57,755 words and 191 pages, which based on a past edition of the novel that has driven me nearly mad over the last six years, the edition before I let anyone else read it, the edition the snarls and growls and throws it's middle finger high in the air, shouting profanity and bragging about how it had sex with Out in the Garage's mother, the version that defies all advice, the version that shows it's genitals to anyone who is looking and shit's on the doorstep of every convent and church it comes across, the version that makes other versions laugh nervous and cry at night, the one, the only... The Millennial!"
The Millennial poops in his hand and throws it on an old lady; the crowd boos and throws garbage. The Millennial picks up a half eaten hot dog, holds it to its crotch, and then takes a bite, and throws the rest at the manuscript across the ring, hitting Out in the Garage in the face.
"Okay," the referee says as the manuscripts move to the center ring. "No biting, hitting below the belt, using body fluids as weapons, and absolutely no Shakespeare quotes!"
"Fuck Shakespeare!"
"Right!"
"Okay," the referee says, "Now shake hands... Now let's get it on!"
DING!
The Millennial whips out its penis and immediately charges towards the other manuscript, which moves out of the way at the last moment, holding it's foot out and tripping up The Millennial, which flies out of the ring and straight into a paper shredder, who is its trainer. The Millennial is immediately shredded to death.
"Okay, that was quick, but we have a winner!" The referee raises Out in the Garage's hand and
the crowd cheers and immediately begins to file out of the arena.
Sunday, July 7, 2013
A sane, well-thought-out, post about sane, well-thought-out things, climbing my way out of the downward spiral, away from oblivion, while I can...
Organization is key. Over the last month, month and a half -- since school ended for the summer -- my mental stability, decision-making skills, and desire to accomplish things of actual value have all disappeared... I don't know, maybe I just needed to let loose for a while.
But there comes a time when it is necessary to reign it all back, sort it out, put all those aspects in the proper places, and get things going. I've got a thesis to write, a class to prepare a syllabus for, three classes to get in the mental discipline to be a be to do well in, the literature subject test of the GRE to study for, papers to polish and get published or give presentations about at conferences, PhD. programs to apply to...
It's all happening so fast and it's a lot to do and I really just need to buckle down, hold on, and get it all done to the best of my ability and hopefully by this time next year I won't be institutionalized. We'll see. At least I'll get more writing accomplished that way, I suppose.
I also really need to make my final stand with this manuscript (I am not going to say which version I have chosen; however, if you've been keeping track, it's not the one I hinted at choosing in my last post), and get it all ready to publish. I feel pretty confident for choosing the one I have chosen, and for the reasons for which I have done so. In addition to the editing and proofreading, I also have to design the jacket and finalize the description, research the e-book formatting and get it right this time, and all that...
With work and all the other stuff going on in my life, I have to get organized and get to work. It's the beginning of July and I am already very stressed. I guess at this level the stress really never goes away. I wish I was able to be less ambitious and settle for less, but I just am not capable of giving up. Maybe it's pride, maybe is irrational, maybe I'm crazy, maybe it's unnecessary and life is a cruel joke, but I don't care. I am who I am, I study what I study, I write what I write, I play and like the music that I like, and that is that.
Hopefully after all the dust clears and in a year from now I am preparing for the PhD. program where I have been accepted, my novel is finally published and selling, I am working on my second novel, and I am continuing to progress towards my goal of getting a tenure-track position somewhere and continuing to write novels and short stories... If not I still have my wife, our future family, our families, and lots of friends.
While certainly it's not all up to me, I can't control everything, there is a lot on my shoulders -- and much of it is what I put there -- and by making it as far as I have in my career I am already beating the odds.
But there comes a time when it is necessary to reign it all back, sort it out, put all those aspects in the proper places, and get things going. I've got a thesis to write, a class to prepare a syllabus for, three classes to get in the mental discipline to be a be to do well in, the literature subject test of the GRE to study for, papers to polish and get published or give presentations about at conferences, PhD. programs to apply to...
It's all happening so fast and it's a lot to do and I really just need to buckle down, hold on, and get it all done to the best of my ability and hopefully by this time next year I won't be institutionalized. We'll see. At least I'll get more writing accomplished that way, I suppose.
I also really need to make my final stand with this manuscript (I am not going to say which version I have chosen; however, if you've been keeping track, it's not the one I hinted at choosing in my last post), and get it all ready to publish. I feel pretty confident for choosing the one I have chosen, and for the reasons for which I have done so. In addition to the editing and proofreading, I also have to design the jacket and finalize the description, research the e-book formatting and get it right this time, and all that...
With work and all the other stuff going on in my life, I have to get organized and get to work. It's the beginning of July and I am already very stressed. I guess at this level the stress really never goes away. I wish I was able to be less ambitious and settle for less, but I just am not capable of giving up. Maybe it's pride, maybe is irrational, maybe I'm crazy, maybe it's unnecessary and life is a cruel joke, but I don't care. I am who I am, I study what I study, I write what I write, I play and like the music that I like, and that is that.
Hopefully after all the dust clears and in a year from now I am preparing for the PhD. program where I have been accepted, my novel is finally published and selling, I am working on my second novel, and I am continuing to progress towards my goal of getting a tenure-track position somewhere and continuing to write novels and short stories... If not I still have my wife, our future family, our families, and lots of friends.
While certainly it's not all up to me, I can't control everything, there is a lot on my shoulders -- and much of it is what I put there -- and by making it as far as I have in my career I am already beating the odds.
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