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Archive for August, 2004
7 items.
Are you going to the grave with unlived lives in your veins?
August 31st, 2004 | by Thacher ClevelandPosted In: General
First things first, let’s get the quiz results out of the way. It’s mostly accurate, so I figured I’d post it.
eXpressive: 8/10
Practical: 3/10
Physical: 10/10
Giver: 6/10
You are a XSYG–Expressive Sentimental Physical Giver. This makes you a Sex Bomb.
You are sexy sex sex sex! The sexness! You are the sexiest, hottest and most charismatic of all types. You are a captivating speaker and a great dinner date — relaxed, self-effacing, charming and generous. Your type probably has origins in something sad — trying to keep the peace in a tough family situation, or an early heartbreak — and you’ll probably want to address and resolve that at some point, but in your relationships that heartache is pure gold!
You lie effortlessly — not necessarily a bad thing. You can have problems with fidelity. You need frequent praise and validation, and in seeking it you can make decisions that aren’t consistent with your general good judgment. In other words, don’t cheat on your significant other just because someone is paying attention to you.
You strongly dislike conflict, and will avoid it. Like an XPYG, you give so much of yourself to your partner that you feel dismissed and unappreciated if you don’t get the same in return. But you internalize your feelings more and have a hard time getting over them. You don’t *want* to cheat — you just keep finding yourself in vulnerable situations. But you’ll stay with your partner in the long run from guilt and a desire to please.
Your sex life will always be hot. You are one of the rare people who can keep the fires of passion going forever — if you find a good match. Find another XSYG and you will never need (or want) anyone else again.
Of the 34827 people who have taken this quiz, 9 % are this type.
So here are some things that irritate me:
That stupid fucking McDonalds “Chicken Selects” commercials. Y’know the ones, where the people are all psychotically defensive about their chicken and start talking to imaginary people who they think are trying to take their chicken. Yes, this is the best way to sell food, by suggesting that it makes people into paranoid schizophrenics. Fucking idiocy. Like you even have to try to sell chicken. It’s chicken, everything tastes like it, and apparently Americans eat a million chickens a day. But no, let’s pretend like this special chicken makes you delusional and overly defensive. In fact, it’s best to make a pre-emptive strike on your neighbor, just in case he’s plotting to take your chicken. Sneak into his home, beat him over the head with a rock until he stops moving. Then, to take his power, roast him over a fire and turn him into “Neighbor Selects.” Be sure none of the other neighbors smell them, or you may have to add them to the menu…
I also hate those Argent mortgage ads, where they are proud of themselves for sponsoring athletes. In their tag line, they say something to the effect of “People say athletes shouldn’t be role models…we say it depends on the athletes.” The sports they show? Swimming, NASCAR, and golf. The athletes they show? Think winter. Think vanilla ice cream. That’s right, white people (because we’re cold and tasty). But yeah, why not just say “Argent mortage, we don’t mess around with black people. They’re scary. Especially the athletes, because when you give those people money, they get rowdy.”
So yeah, irritants. Televised irritants.
I did manage to get some work done on a story I had started a while ago, “A Taste of Precious.” A title chosen innocently enough at the time, but now has taken on more sinister tones. It’s coming along though, and hopefully it’ll be presentable soon.
The more I think about the future I know how crazy and uncontrollable it is. I just have to throw my hands and give it all up. Give up that I know how things are going to turn out, or that I can predict it. I can just do. Do do do. Do be do be do. You know how the song goes.
So my birthday keeps on coming up. Presents, presents, presents. And, of course, if folks haven’t sent me their contact info, please, please do. It’s all part of my master plan. Ooooh, master plan. Spooky, spooky.
So yeah, do that and that.
Servant of the master plan, I remain…
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The guy was giving me a blow job, I didn’t want to be rude
August 25th, 2004 | by Thacher ClevelandPosted In: General
So Iím sitting here, trying to get in the mood.
For writing, you freaks.
I hate how I have to fight to be in the mood for it, that I have to strap myself to the chair to actually get started on it. And by get started, I mean write a blog entry, apparently.
Itís going well, I think. The stuff Iíve done lately, the chapters of ìShadow of the Pastî that Iíve been editing are flowing well, and I did a couple more pages of the ìLooking Backwardsî graphic novel Iím been puttering around with. ìShadow of the Past,î Iím thinking, has been kind of like making a sword, to use a really dorky analogy. I spent a bunch of time crafting this sword shaped thing, and right now itís good enough to hang on the wall and talk about and go ìOh yeah, I wrote a book.î Now I just have to sharpen it so it can actually be useful.
ìLooking Backwardsî is fun. Itís fun because while I know the main plot beats I want to do with it, how I want the chapters to flow (and maybe be broken up into 22-page regular comics so it can be done as a miniseries), there are a lot of things about it that are unknown and itís kind of exciting. I have a feeling thereís going to be a lot of fun stuff left on the cutting room floor, as Iíd like to not draw it out just for my own amusement.
Speaking of amusement, Iíve been kicking around another idea that I totally shouldnít be considering, but itís the bright shiny object thatís distracting my brain the past couple of days. Basically, itís a sit-com in comic book form. Sit-com and relationship/coming of age story/WB dramaÖthing. Three guys, each one in one of the various levels of relationships that guys in the mid-late twenties find themselves in: married, single, and dating. They all live together for some vague reason and ìhave adventuresî (because itís important for people to have adventuresÖadventures are fun, and can also be called ìstoriesî). Not ìgo to the moonî or ìsolve mysteriesî adventures but ìSeinfeldî like adventures. In a way, itís loosely based on myself and my two best friends from high school (each one of us falling into one of those three categories). I think it came about at some point when I was thinking about how funny it was that the three of us were in these three different stages and what itíd be like if we were all close enough to still hang out and what that would be like. Of course, weíd have adventures.
Itís nice to know that Iíve gotten to the point where the ideas I come up with are romantic comedies, love stories and sit-coms and not shit like ìOh, wouldnít it be cool if Batman fought a monkeyÖand a robotÖAND A MONKEY ROBOT!!!!î Not to say that I donít still have ideas for and pursue writing ìspeculative fictionî (thatís the term weíre using now to legitimize the horror/sci-fi/fantasy level that gets crapped on by the ìrealî writers) but like I say when people see my CD collection: Itís important to be well-rounded.
So well rounded that if I were religious, Iíd be a holy roller, I remainÖ
PS Oh yeah, my birthday is September 10th, less than a month away Buy me things, because you love me. Also, send me your addresses. All of you. I mean it, no exceptions, dammit. It takes thirty seconds. Don’t be lazy. For the addresses. Presents take longer, but addresses first, then presents. One thing at a time. Do it. Now. Stop reading and open your email.
So sometimes I need to just shut up about how “crappy” and “stressful” my life is. Because it’s not really, and every now and again you get reminded about what’s really important. I was irritated most of the day because it was hot and some stuff someone was saying got back to me and it made me mad, but tonight when I got home from work, Melissia called and said that Allie got a haircut, a shorter one than she had ever had, and she wanted to know if I wanted to see it tonight before it got messed up by a nights sleep.
And, of course, I said yes, and, of course, I toomk pictures, because she’s my precious little angel.
Bear in mind, Allie has always had long hair, and until tonight it was past the middle of her back. She also had a doctor’s appointment and she’s 4’2″ and 57lbs. My little girl is growing up! Like a giant!
But really, all there is to say is that I’m the luckiest guy on the face of the earth, and no matter what comes in life I have something to be proud of and thankful for.
Oh, oh, oh, oh, sweet child of mine, she remains…
I’m up past my bedtime. I was skipping past VH1 Classic and got sucked in by retro videos, and then I got to downloading music and now I’m making CDs. Rock the cradle of love. Rock. The cradle. Of love. That video was like hard core pornography for a 12 year old boy, or however old I was. Because damn. Hotness.
Too. Many. Periods.
She’s got a smile that seems to me reminds me of childhood memories. Whoooaaahhh ooohhh ohhhh.
Speaking of pr0n, I watched Jenna Jameson Confessions on VH1, because speaking of hotness…It’s funny when she was talking about when she was a stripper and how that’s not a good job to have when you are forming your impressions of men (she was 17). It seems like a lot of strippers come away with that attitude. Not unfair, just unfortunate. Not to mention the whole “seeing behind the curtain” aspect of reading/watching about “the industry.” It kind of kills the mood, y’know?
You know what else is a mood killer? Finding yourself relating to an Avril Levine song. Because that’s the hallmark of grownupness and maturity. “So much for our happy ending.” It’s so stupid feeling that way, but I still do. Cheated, robbed, betrayed, and I’m so sick of it. So. Fucking. Sick. I hate how it feels like it’s fucking up any other chance I may have at happiness because I can’t get past this. “When Harry Met Sally” was on the other day, and I managed to catch the part where she says “It’s not that he didn’t want to get married. It’s that he didn’t want to get married to me. Why didn’t he want me? What’s wrong with me?”
Free your mind, and the rest will follow. So much truth in music.
It sucks, and I hate it. End of story.
Moving on, as they say you need to do when they are sick of listening to you whine.
So other things are kind of back to normal (whatever that is). I went to the gym today, and I’m sure I’m going to be feeling it tomorrow. I’ve managed to get some semblance of internet back home, which is nice. It’s the end of another weekend and I’m like “Oh crap, I didn’t do this or that or the other.” Since becoming “in charge” at work I’ve turned into a total workaholic, which I’m sure makes everyone thrilled, as I put in appearances on both days off, “checking in” and all that “jazz.”
I felt that “paragraph” needed more “quotes.”
It’s good though, because I like my job. I enjoy my new responsibilties and all that crap. It’s kind of disgusting, but I do. Now if I can just focus on my other job more, y’know, the writing shit (well, not shit, hopefully). I think I’ve moved past the stage of my life where I think that if I get all this stuff done and taken care of that I’ll be super-happy and okay with everything. I know that’s not true, but then again, I’m not above enjoying all the stuff that comes with it.
I hate setting things out there on such a negative note, because I’m not negative right now. I am happy, I am feeling better than I have in years, mainly because I refuse to let this nagging festering wound get the better of me.
Because I said so, I remain…
And I’m sure the view from heaven beats the hell out of mine here
August 15th, 2004 | by Thacher ClevelandPosted In: General
You’d think at this point my heart would be used to this. Of course, it is, so it’s more like “Oh, what, *this* again?” as opposed to me being sprawled out and broken on the floor. Because I’m not broken, per se. I’m just…well, that’s just it, “I’m just…” and I don’t know what to do with myself. But it’s best not dragging other people into my psychosis until I have a handle on my shit.
It’s not horrible, it’s not life altering it’s just…
Exactly.
I’m not going to talk about the writing I haven’t been doing, because there’s a lot of it. I was thinking about my mental body of work (the stories I want to tell but aren’t on paper, you know, the dozen novels, couple of graphic novels, three or four comic series, ideas for company-owned superhero work) last night and it depressed me. Did I get up and start writing. No, I watched “The Venture Brothers” for the first time, watched an episode of “Futurama” I hadn’t seen before (gasp!) and then went to bed. Because I suck.
I’m reading an absolutely horrible book right now. It’ *painfully* bad. The kind where you read it and go “Wow, how did this person get published? Who did they have hostage in thier basement?” It’s called “The Devil’s Auction.” Granted, that’s a hysterical title, but really. From the jacket copy:
GOING…
to the centuries-old auction was the dream of every witch and warlock. They knew the prize offered for bidding would give them power beyond belief. And they would do anything for a chance to win the prize.
GOING…
to the auction was not Valerie Lancaster’s idea. She had heard the rumors that said only the winner returned alive and wanted no part of it. But when her father was murdered for his invitation, she knew she had to go in order to find out who had slain him-and keep from being killed herself.
GONE!
Accompanied by her father’s friend Alex Warner, Valerie confronted werewolves, golems, and the most powerful sorcerers in the world. But when the appointed hour arrived, they found they had survived only to face the greatest danger of all–
THE DEVIL’S AUCTION!
End quote.
Because seriously, why would the devil need to have an auction? Is Mrs. Devil all like “You need to clean up this garage! How many tormented souls and books of vile darkness do you need to have in here…don’t you roll your eyes at me Mr “I think I’m so cool I can take over heaven, whoops, I got cast out by the almighty and now just fill up my garage with junk.” That’s right, I’m talking to you!”
I’ve been eating a lot of plums lately. I don’t know what that means. Well, more fruit in general. I haven’t had a candy bar or sweet snack since…okay, yesterday I had a giant cinnamon roll for lunch, but that was comfort food. I haven’t had a soda in weeks and I’m all…healthy. My god, I even had a salad the other day. *shudder* I feel so lame becoming this person that eats right and goes to the gym (*coughhaventgoneinthreeweekscough*) and is all wannabe healthy. I hate even admitting that I go to the gym. It’s such a stupid thing to do.
But then again, I have issues. Clearly.
Getting better, I think, I remain…
I came here to chew bubblegum and kick ass. And I’m all out of bubblegum…
August 12th, 2004 | by Thacher ClevelandPosted In: General
Back again, back again.
Not really really back, as I’m still internet-less at home, mainly because I’ve been too lazy to call around about DSL. So much stuff whirling around in the air nowadays.
There’s been major work drama, resulting in the old manager quitting and me becoming the new manager. It doesn’t mean anything extra, except extra work, but I get to be “in charge” which is a nice balance. Hopefully, the drama fall-out from that will be minimal. It’s one of those “joys of living in a small town” things.
I’ve just been running around doing stuff lately. Doing from freelance work for my old store which will be a nice little kick in the wallett. Other than that, my time is full…in a good way. That’ll change soon, of course, but right now I’m having fun and that’s what counts. Is my time being spent the way I thought it would be when I took this job? No, of course not, nothing is ever like that, but it’s fun, I’m happy, happier than I’ve been in a while, and that’s the most important thing. It really does feel like moving into Act 2 of my life now. Kinda cool.
“Rescue Me” on F/X at 10 on Wednesday. Dennis Leary, NYC firefighter. Watch it, it’s awesome. I came close to weeping at it the other night, but that’s because they had some bad father/daughter drama going on. Damn them.
Saw “Farenheit 9/11″ the other night. Enjoyable, a little all over the place, and surprisingly it didn’t make me all that mad. I mean, I know these people are megalomaniacal sociopaths already, what else do I need to say? of course there were some things I took issue with, but hey, I often take issue with Michael Moore. He bugs me. Other than that, damn fine and important film. And it is a documentary, fuck what anybody else says. Assholes.
Found a copy of “They Live” on VHS at the book fait I was working last weekened. Super fucking sweet. Of course, it’s one of those films that just has to be shared with people who don’t get it’s socio-politcal commentary and coolness, but still. It must be shared with the people. Best. Fight. Scene. Evar.
Okay, lunch break’s over, get back to work, nothing to see here. I’m trying to get stuff done. Honest, I am. Thankfully, one of those things is “having fun.”
Making a list, checking it twice, I remain…
Sew this up with threads of reason and regret
August 1st, 2004 | by Thacher ClevelandPosted In: General
Techonology/life still hates me, so this is being done at work, and it’ll be quick because I’ve been typing in Manga title names all day and my eyes are swimming with Yu-Yus, Inus, Negamis, Kurumis and other things that just look like baby-talk to me now.
Things are good. This is my Friday, so I can’t really complain. My god, the utter joy of having two days off in a row consistently. I forgot what it was like. There’s this stupid part of me that’s going “Hey, you have more time off, you can work *more*” but that way lies madness. I’m actually comfortable (with my time), and I like having the time for writing, exercising and playstation. Been working the shit out of the heavy bag lately, which is nice, and my knuckles are beginning to scar up so they don’t bleed as much. Always a plus.
Bought Yellowcard’s “Ocean Avenue” CD. Good stuff. Poppy, angsty alt rock…with a fiddle. You gotta love a fiddle. A lot of relationbship songs, but what’re you gonna do?
I’m tired a lot of time, but I think that’s a good thing. I feel fulfilled.
Writing has slowed down a bit, but I predict some picking up the next couple of days. Because I say so.
I feel football season itching in the background, but I know it’s going to be a heartbreaker this year, because, as Playboy says in thier pre-season report, the NFC East is “a bitch of a division.” Not to mention our possible starters are a rookie and a burnout. Great.
Oy, speaking of burnout, I’m done. Good night, Irene. Perhaps something more substantial tomorrow.
Crispy critter, I remain…