Just About Out Of Time

(recorded sometime between 1999 and 2001.)

Chariessa

(Drawn in October 1999.)

Man... And Other Primitives

(cartoon from between 2000 and 2003ish?)

Free Writing: Some Friendly Encouragement From Your Internal Creative Muse!

(written in September 2011.)

Self-sabotage – the act of writing is undercut by the expectations of the unformed story. Each sentence, each choice of word and phrase is called into question. What should be the simplest thing in the world – telling a story – becomes so laden and fraught with complications as to make the task insurmountable. Free write – go on, go on, free write – but don't just type the same thing over and over again. And don't resort to gibberish – that's not writing, that's just pointless motion of the fingers. And don't start just writing down your thoughts – that's called 'journalling' or 'keeping a diary', and look where that got Anne Frank. And DON'T start getting distracted by the slight wiggle from the loose battery on the bottom of your laptop, or the bit of food stuck in your teeth, or the fact that your friend may have sent you an instant message in the other window! Just – free write! What's so fucking difficult about that? Huh? Can you tell me? Quit censoring yourself and let the story come through – Okay, here we go: "The dog was – the dog went – the dog sitting by the side of the road had a mournful air. It cocked its head alertly enough though, following the pickup truck which-"

-You're starting with a dog? What the hell is that? You're supposed to be free writing, allowing your subconscious thoughts to percolate and bubble to the surface as you type the words, revealing the innermost secrets of your mind to an uncaring world and apathetic (or more likely non-existent) audience, living the nobility of art – creation sheerly for the drive of it, a desire to create your own worlds and populate them with characters of your own design, and you choose to start with a DOG? And then what? More journalling, more self-censure, more pretentious artsy bullshit! I told you before, just free write! Are you stupid?

You've Had Your Fun - Now Lie In It!

(written in mid-2009, I think.)

(scene: a cheap, glitzy talk show.)

JULIAN: Hello, and welcome to "You've Had Your Fun, Now Lie In It!", the programme where we take a long, hard, prurient look at the sordid lives and tragic circumstances of some of the world's saddest cases, and from our narrow, biased, comfortably remote perspective, render harsh critical judgments whilst doing nothing to improve the lot of the losers we examine! I'm your host, Julian Rotter! On today's show, we talk to an unemployed mother of 6 living in a Kentucky trailer park (audience jeers and boos), a blind nun working with starving children in Africa (audience jeers and boos), and a mystery caller with a BIG problem (audience jeers and boos in an intrigued way), among others. That's coming right up - but first a word from our sponsors!

(commercial break)

JULIAN: Welcome back, welcome back, those were some lovely ads, weren't they? It's lovely to be in a free country and be able to have all sorts of lovely things advertised to one, isn't it? Which reminds me, remember to only purchase the brands you've seen advertised on here, or you're a worthless piece of shit. Now, talking of buying lovely things, let's push right on into the program and talk to someone who can't, shall we? (audience boos) Linda is on the line with us from Kentucky, isn't she, now Linda, tell us, what's the problem? Why aren't you out there, supporting the economy by buying lovely things like a good citizen?

LINDA: Hi Julian, well, I'm not sure that question is fair; I'd like to have more disposable income, but I'm a single mother (audience boos) with three children to support (audience boos) and I have to budget very carefully.

JULIAN: I suppose between bailing your numerous gap-toothed ex-husbands out of jail and the nightly pint of wild turkey things do get a bit stretched, don't they?

Disassociation Blues

(Song from a long time ago - can't remember when, but I'm guessing 2003-2004ish.)

Enigma

(Composed somewhere between 2002 and 2005, can't remember.)

The Energizer Bunny

(I don't even remember when I did this one...  it was definitely a LONG time ago, maybe the late '90s.  If it had a caption, it would be something like "...LeShawn knew it was only a matter of time.")

Crash Landing

(Drawing from 2004.)

More Gibberhymes

(composed a couple days after the "Bing Bop" series I'm currently illustrating.  Maybe when I finish that I'll have a go at this.)

"Pwui p'tooie drambuie eschplooie!

Griggle and viggle and fliggle and shoeie!

Meejie and chigi and werble and verble,

Abjab-widabdab the kibble mawurgul...

A pinkle, a quipple, a flurp and a floop -

A mizul, a mazul, a binterdy-voup!

Chiamon rebriamun pellagity-whee,

Squidjum badidgium and rovichaui.

Klerklum and dunklin, a fijjle-buplee -

Laxamitachsobouroo sabaeri?"

It's Not The End Of The World

(This was written for a high-school English class, circa 1998 - unaccountably, I'm still fond of it.)


     The day was hot and sunny, possibly due to global warming. Jane Palmer was in her back yard, reading a book and considering the laws of physics when her best friend, Lisa, came out. “Hullo, Lisa,” Jane said responsibly.

“Hello, Jane,” Lisa replied.

“Want a book?” asked Jane, pointing to a small pile of them on the grass beside her sun chair.

“No thanks.” She demurred.

“Sure? I’ve got Plato.” Jane dangled the small drab book tantalizingly, as though it were an enticement irresistible to any normal person.

Lisa considered. “Thanks anyway.”

“Suit yourself.” Jane went back to her book.

In the two minutes of silence that followed, one hundred eleven people all over the world died of causes natural and unnatural. However, one hundred eighteen were born. Jane read three pages in her book. Also, Lisa slapped a bug crawling on her leg.

Jane looked up. “Yes?”

“I slapped a bug.”

Point to Point

(Written in mid-2008.)

DRAMATIS PERSONAE:
NANCY - in her 30s, talk show host looking
DR. PROFESSOR - in his 40s, conservative looking
ALAN - in his 20s or 30s, intellectual and liberal looking

(scene is a tv studio set - one of those minimalistic affairs with a desk behind which the host sits, a couple chairs and/or a sofa for the guests - possibly a fake backdrop of a cityscape, as is so commonly used. Titles and dramatic music indroduce the show, and we see NANCY behind the desk, DR. PROFESSOR and ALAN in the guest chairs. The general feel is that of one of those annoying, talky, argumentative, substance-less issues shows which bore most of us to tears.)

NANCY: Hello, and welcome to Point to Point. I'm Nancy Baker. For most of us, lines and geometry - if you'll pardon the expressions - aren't much a part of our day to day lives... We are surrounded by, but at the same time quite unaware, by and large, of the angles, shapes, and other odd things that a lot of people find quite uncomfortable to talk about. Well, the last few weeks, there's been a lot of national attention being given to these subjects, and on tonight's show we're going to try to examine them in a very linear way and just sort of see where that takes us. With us today is Dr. Mister Professor, a representative of a very conservative and thoughtful conservative think tank, who likes to take on social issues when he's not tackling completely unrelated subjects like economics and globalization - welcome, Doctor.

DR. PROFESSOR: Thanks, Nancy.

NANCY: You also like sweepstakes competitions, boys gymnastics, and things either spelt with a 'w' or tinted sort of chartreuse, is that right?

Mystery Train

(A song I wrote back in 2006 - the usual setup of ancient computers/software/synthesizers)

The Steamingly New Programme - Opening Theme

(I wrote this sometime in 2009.  It's meant to be the music that plays during the title sequence of my long-awaited - by me, anyway - sketch comedy show.  The credit graphics are just a rough thing I threw together; I actually have an elaborate opening animation storyboarded out - but I need to make the time to learn the requisite CGI skills to accomplish it.  One of these days, one of these days.  In the meantime, enjoy the music, ignore the visuals.)

Pencil People

(ca. 2008)

After the Rain

(June 2009)

A Meal You Will Regret

The trouble starts as soon as

You realize that your spoon has

Bits of dried, encrusted tunas,

And your knife and fork are spotty and unclean.

The soup is cold, congealed:

You smelled it once, and reeled,

And its skin cannot be peeled –

Though a whale might have more luck with its baleen.

The house dressing is vile,

For they make it out of bile.

The taste lingers quite a while

As you try to cleanse your palette, all in vain.

The potato's from the Famine –

Rather older than your Gram, and

Could have fed an Irish gamine,

But it selfishly decided to abstain.

The salad is all wilted,

Like a drooping maiden, jilted –

And the wine seems to be silted

With a substance that might better go unnamed.

The steak – both tough and flaccid –

Will abuse your stomach acid,

Though eventually you'll pass it...

In form and odor, very much the same.

Dessert? You really oughtn't-

An idea best forgotten,

For the cheesecake has gone rotten

And the tapioca never really set.

But sit down at your table,

Eat as much as you are able.

Is there a moral to this fable,

Or just a meal that you will regret?

Impromptu No. 1 in Z Major

(the first short play I wrote for the Overnighters - 8/10/08)

THE CAST:

Marilyn - A big shot woman in the theater.

Heather - The schemer.

Rebecca - The dimwitted accomplice.

PROPS:

A bucket

A glass of water

A dummy script which can be torn up

A brown glass medicine bottle (ether) and a rag

A lute or autoharp

A flashlight with colored cellophane over the lens

SETTING: APU Grant Hall, the Overnighters performance.

(lights go up on MARILYN, sitting in front row, looking all important. The curtain is drawn, and there is an air of expectation. Suddenly, MARILYN'S cell phone rings. She answers it.)

MARILYN: Yeah? What do you mean 'apparently there's going to be a slight delay'? I'm... No, you listen - I've got a whole roomful of people here waiting to be entertained, and if you think I'm going to get up there in front of them and do it, you'd better think again! No - no, I'm NOT doing the - I haven't done that in decades! NO! (hangs up viciously) DAMMIT! Where are they? Probably miniature golfing - fuckers. It's that playwright, I knew it the moment I saw him. Not that the actors are any better - and that director! DAWSON! Where are you?! I'm going to make you regret this! (turns to audience, patronizing) I'm sorry, ladies and gentlemen, it looks like there's going to be a slight delay. If you'll just sit tight for a minute, I'm going to sort it out. (she stalks out, and we hear her bellow from offstage) HEADS WILL ROLL!

(a moment of stillness, then a commotion from behind the curtain. We hear various clangs and rattles, then HEATHER and REBECCA'S voices)

Special

(A song I did back in high school...  I just rediscovered an old recording of it this evening.)

'

Scatter

(A piano piece I wrote about 10 years ago - I was playing with the video camera tonight and decided to put it together.)

Something Wicked

(A drawing from May 2004.)

Angles

(An homage to M.C. Escher, drawn around 2000.)

Melancholy

(An old piano composition from 2002ish...  recorded on a crappy mic and with some kind of phaser/flanger effect added, I can't remember.)

Tuning In Halfway Through A Political Speech

(Another brief snippet from 2008 or 2009.)

CANDIDATE: (in a rich southern dialect reminiscent of Foghorn Leghorn) -and we must continue our active, carefully targeted, demographically backed, effort to eradicate the poor. Now, for our upper-class listeners who may be alarmed at the broadness of that statement, let me clarify - I'm not talking about the eradication of po-ver-ty, which, as we know is a useful tool in ensuring the maintenance of the status quo - and a good way to frighten your children through college - No, we must maintain the abstract concept of PO-VER-TY, while eliminating the POOR - as I said, with the continued implementation of strategies of planned neglect - adequate underfunding of education, of health care, of all those things American families count on to become more unattainable with each passing year, and at the same time PROACTIVELY failing to plan for upcoming crises in Social Security, Medicare, and the environment... By spending irresponsibly, and wastefully, on wars of bloody, distracting, injustice - on political spin campaigns, the denunciation of activist judges, and all the projects deemed important to the bottom lines of the corporations, represented by the lobbies which represent - SO much - of the ECONOMY - that this great country stands for. As a Christian nation, we must remember, Jesus said, "There will always be poor among you." Well, with your vote, and your support - together - we can make a whole lot less of them. Thank you, and God bless.

Entropy Waltz

(MIDI synth song from somewhere around 2005.)

The Mammogram

(Written in mid-2008)

(SCENE: generic commercial)

NARRATOR: (overly enthusiastic) Not enough space in your body cavity? Tired of hooking and unhooking things every time you want to plug in an extra pancreas? Just want to rearrange in there? Then try our new line of external organ carriers - take the organs you want with you, in whatever you want to take them in - from functional airtight plastic spleen totes to stylish executive leather brain satchels. And for all those surplus organs, stop letting them lie around cluttering the closet - get organized and get in control with the modular in-closet stacking organ bin system! Available now in stores, and at tupperware parties!

(SCENE: the exterior of a hotel. BUSINESSMAN is walking toward the hotel, wheeling a travel organ case and talking on his cell phone.)

BUSINESSMAN: Yeah, I just got in - no, I - yes, it was fine - well, I'm going to go up to my room and unpack everything - hope I remembered the important glands. Then I'm going down to the conference, where I'm gonna check my liver - no, I won't lose the claim ticket again - oh, you packed a spare? -check my liver, as I say, and then get shitfaced, and try and pay one of the waitresses for sex. It's just business, darling, I - you did WHAT with my balls?

(BUSINESSMAN enters the hotel as MR. ZANE and MRS. ZANE, each carrying a large suitcase, come into view. They focus on a cardboard sign which reads "Clinic in Alley" and trudge into the alley to the side of the hotel. In the alley, MRS. ZANE continues out of sight and MR. ZANE stops in front of a lecherous looking homeless man sitting behind a cheap folding table, another cardboard sign taped to it reading "Free Mammograms".)

MR. ZANE: Hello, I'd like a mammogram, please.

"Introducing..."

"She was born the son of an Episcopalian and a reformed property appraiser - in her all-too-brief childhood, she established herself as one of the world's premiere breeders and trainers of Tibetan monks. After a 30-year career, she took up the piccolo in junior high and became the front man for the neo-punk, neo-classicist, neonatal band "Televangelist Babies", releasing several highly-acclaimed, rarely-listened-to, albums. When the Babies' contract was not renewed, and the diapers began to chafe, she took a dual degree in human anatomy and robotics from MIT and went on, with $85 million dollars in private and government funding, to develop the world's best selling line of aromatherapy tea cosies. Her work can be seen from space, her name is the top result on google when you search for "amputee fetish sex porn eggs benedict recipe" - she has single-handedly reduced the number of orphans in third-world countries, while at the same time providing great-tasting, reasonably priced, fast-food dining options for citizens of the midwest, with 170 franchised outlets, including one in the famous Topeka Regional Airport. Ladies and gentlemen, no welcome could be more severe, more understated, more blisteringly appropriate than the one with which I encourage you to pummel tonight's guest - so please, with as much venom and displaced hostility as your little hands can muster, a round of applause for Gwendolyn Muffpoppett!"

Random Photoshop Collage

(created for Easter, 2011)

Polyploids

(cartoon from 5/10/13)

Breakfast at the Seaside

(a drawing from November, 2011)

An Illustrated Limerick

(Written, drawn, and colorized in early August 2010.  Original line drawing after the jump.)

As a habit, on his nightly walk
The deviant from down the block
Likes to strip in my yard,
Whereupon he gets hard
And makes love to a crusty old sock.

Jesus Stole My Baby

(First-take recording of ANOTHER song I wrote a couple months ago.  Lyrics after the jump.)

Sub-Prime Lending Crisis

(Written in mid 2008)

CAST:

LARRY EMERSON - a middle-class American Dad, 30s or 40s
SUE EMERSON - a middle-class American Mom, 30s or 40s
JAKE EMERSON - a middle-class American Boy, child-aged
EMILY EMERSON - a middle-class American Girl, slightly-younger-child-aged
OFFICIAL - a government official, regulation-issue, gray with manila accents
NARRATOR - male, documentary-style voice
ANGRY MAN - middle-aged or elderly, an uneducated Southerner
HUSBAND - generic Husband in his 20s or early 30s
WIFE - generic Wife, slightly younger than generic Husband
FATHER - In his 30s or 40s
MOVERS - a couple of non-speaking, strapping young men who will be moving various pieces of office furniture into the EMERSONS living room

AT OPEN:

(SCENE: a typical middle-class American household, family having dinner around the table. Dad, mom, and 2.5 children are enjoying each others company)

LARRY: Mm, this meatloaf is really delicious, Sue.

SUE: Thanks, honey. I'm glad you like it.

LARRY: Is there a secret ingredient?

SUE: (sweetly) No, it's just nature's bounty, bestowed on us by a globalized system of industrial scale food production and distribution - lots and lots of trucks, cheap labor, and antibiotics.

Restaurant Symbolism

(Written in mid-2008)

CAST:

BRIAN, a BRIAN - entirely male, in his 20s or 30s
RUDOLPHO, a WAITER/WAITRESS - male and female (not at the same time) in his/her 20s or 30s
KARL, a KARL - mostly male, in his 20s or 30s
AUNT NOREEN, an ELDERLY AUNT - derelict female in her 60s or 70s
MAN and WOMAN - one of each, dining with AUNT NOREEN, in their 30s or 40s
CHEF - in his 50s, preferably on the larger side

AT OPEN:

(scene is a cozy restaurant. BRIAN is seated at a side table, waiting patiently. RUDOLPHO approaches the table, refills BRIAN's water, and hovers expectantly.)
BRIAN: Yes, Rudolpho?

RUDOLPHO: Are you ready to order, sir Brian sir?

BRIAN: (slightly exasperated) No Rudolpho, for the thirty-fifth time since ten o'clock this morning, I'm meeting a friend here for lunch at noon.

RUDOLPHO: But sir, it is 8:47 PM! The restaurant will be closing soon! Maybe your friend is not coming?

BRIAN: (suddenly enraged) HE'LL BE HERE!!! (calmer) I'm sorry, Rudolpho - I didn't mean to shout... It's just - he's in a different time zone, so I've got jet lag.

RUDOLPHO: Of course, sir. Travel is exhausting.

What's In The Box?

(Another older cartoon - drawn around 2007, colorized 7/11/09.  Original line drawing after the jump.)

The March Of Progress

Just a little doodle I did tonight...  and it will NEVER be surpassed!  =)

Today

(Composed in the late 1990s on an ancient Mac with even older software. Also, a cheap keyboard.)

Pick a Door, Any Door

(May 20, 2010)

Characters:

DESK ATTENDANT: Dead common British accent - sardonic, lackadaisical, existentially bored, and generally contemptuous of and disgusted by pretty much everything and everyone.

ANDY: A recently deceased man.

EARL LINTMAN: A Christian televangelist, also recently deceased.

Setting:

A minimalistic modern lobby – a desk placed between two doors, ornately labeled as “HEAVEN” and “HELL”, a couple chairs, a couch, a bare coffee table.

At rise: The DESK ATTENDANT sits at the desk, obviously very bored, leafing through a tattered old magazine. ANDY enters, a bit confused, and stands in front of the attendant. He waits to be noticed, and is ostentatiously ignored. After a long pause, he clears his throat.

DESK ATTENDANT: (with a great sigh and the manner of someone being greatly inconvenienced) Can I help you?

ANDY: Well, yes – that is to say, I certainly hope so. I'm afraid I'm a bit confused.

DESK ATTENDANT: Yeah, it said that in the stage directions. What you confused about?

Succubists

(Drawing from 5/20/04)

I was initially going to call it "Cubist Hookers", but then I realized that "Succubists" was snappier.

Apocalypse

(A song from somewhere around 2003-2004ish, maybe, composed using '80s-era sequencing software on an equally dated old Mac, using a cheap General MIDI keyboard.)

Perils of Dating: Previous Relationships

A little unfinished bit of absurdity - or maybe it is finished, and I just don't know it.


SCENE: WINIFRED and LEWIS together at a restaurant.

WINIFRED: It's good to be out on a date again, you know. After my first husband, well, yes...

LEWIS: Your husband?

WINIFRED: First husband, yes -

LEWIS: You were married?

WINIFRED: Yes, well, John prefers I not tell everyone about it.

LEWIS: John, your first husband?

WINIFRED: No, John, my third husband.

LEWIS: THIRD husband?

WINIFRED: Yes, well, he's jealous, isn't he? Jealous of Thomas.

LEWIS: Thomas your first husband?

WINIFRED: No, Thomas my fourth husband. Thomas my first husband, and John my second husband don't mind a bit that I was married to Thomas my fourth husband. They even put it on their resumes. They all got on very well – but then, Thomas my fourth husband was a very likable man.

The End Of The Film

(Written ages ago, sometime in the late 20th century.)


When rising water and ecological chaos related to global warming caused the collapse of all major economies and civilization in general (who didn't see that one coming?) I packed what little food I had and drove my car as far into the mountains as it would go. It gave out in mid-evening, in a mountain pass where storm clouds were gathering and bolts of lightning were singeing the dry grasses.

Prepared to die, I left the car and ran out into the landscape, sprinting heedlessly across the fields. Seeing a small butte in the middle distance, I turned towards it, intent on gaining elevation so as to better attract lightning.

Reaching it, I struggled up, crawling part of the distance on my hands and knees. At the top, gasping, I lit a cigarette and surveyed the land below me, where the bolts had ignited blazes.

Feeling a moment of melodrama coming on, I cried out, “God, WHY?”

The sound was absorbed into the emptiness of the smoky sky. When I figured He had to have received my initial hail, I continued in a somewhat quieter voice. “It's not for myself that I worry, but – all those people who believed in You ... Like – REALLY believed in You. I mean, some of them got all freaky about it, handling snakes and wearing big funny hats and going to prayer group every night of the week (except Bingo Thursdays) and stuff...”

I trailed off as a particularly violent bolt of lightning immolated a nearby shrub in a pyrotechnic explosion of sparks and flame, and sat down on a projection of rock at the edge of the hill to watch the world burn.

The clouds had gotten heavier, roiling and perturbed beyond all reason, vacuous temperamental giants bent on destruction, bellowing incomprehensible meteorological threats like an abusive drunkard. I stared up at the sky for an indeterminate time, until a hand tapped my shoulder tentatively. I leapt to my feet, prepared to attack - the indomitable survival instinct kicking in at a fairly futile time - to confront an old man, dressed in a white robe, looking at me somewhat timidly from over a pair of spectacles with bent frames. His hair and beard were long and white, His eyes indescribably innocent and simultaneously impossibly wise. In short:

God.

Grapes

(Cartoon, 5/12/13)

"Six months into an apparently ideal courtship, Steve and Jennifer decide to end it when they, at the exact same moment, confide to each other their mutual antipathy for grapes."

The Story of Lump

An acknowledgement of existence in 12 figs.

(Drawn on lined notebook paper many years ago, colorized not so many years ago.)

Have a Nice Day!

(A cartoon I did many years ago, which I Photoshopped and colorized a few fewer years ago.  Original line drawing after the jump.)

The Road To Anhedonia

(First-take recording of a song I wrote a couple months ago.  Lyrics after the jump.)

The Corner Joke

Doodle from 5/11/13ish

No further explanation will be provided, because I am snickering.

Time Lapse

Welcome back, Constant Readers!

Firstly, I must apologize for the lengthy hiatus between my initial posts in July 2010 and this current ramble, being composed sometime in the wee hours of May 11, 2013. Now, please don't think that I've forgotten you in the interim - far from it. It's more that I forgot myself. Honestly, I'm not sure what I've been doing since then... sleeping, I dare say, and having some fairly annoying dreams, most of which involve bears and scorpions. I suppose I've been working a bit as well, but that hardly seems to have any bearing on anything, it's just something one does.

Oh, I moved from one place to another a couple years ago, took forever unpacking, made plans to do stuff with the house which I had neither the energy nor the finances to accomplish, met someone, had a complicated relationship which has now been downgraded to a friendship, and withdrew from most of my social circle as an energy-conservation measure. My creative efforts have largely been stymied and my day-to-day existence consists mostly of worrying about day-to-day existence. But, as I said, I've never forgotten my obligation to the grand and noble endeavor upon which we fellow-travelers embarked all those months ago, and it is with great pleasure that I announce my triumphant return.

You may cheer and/or applaud at this point.

Now, for some initial results: Nearly three years later, the experiment seems to be a complete success (but it may be too soon to say). I haven't posted anything, and no one has started following what I haven't written. This entirely validates my theories, and confirms some of my deepest inner feelings of void-like emptiness. However, as I have discovered in life, nearly anything is bearable, so long as you know you were right about it.

As I said, not a great deal has been accomplished lately, and the paucity of my postings is weighing on me, so until such time as current events merit their own cryptic posts I'm going to resort to posting various things from my 'back catalogue' - a wide assortment of written, visual, and musical thingamajigs™ which I trust will serve to distract and entertain you, as well as provide a false impression that I am, in fact, a productive person who actually does things every day... and not some lazy sod who spends days at a time in bed watching dreadful programs on Netflix and whiling away the hours until the inevitable end.

Are you ready to be deceived? Then we'll begin. (NOTE: Although I initially did most of these things in chronological order, I can't remember what that order was now, so these postings will be essentially random. With the best things first, of course - and with the hope that I'll come up with new and even more brilliant stuff before we wind up scraping the bottom of the barrel!)

Impatience: It's been almost a couple of hours, and my legions of fans have yet to materialize!

(initially posted in July 2010)

Okay... Slightly disappointed here - I mean, this is the Internet, the circuits that never sleep, the World Wide Web, the gateway to all the rest of wifi-enabled humanity! There should be people all over the globe hanging on my every word, waiting to respond with impassioned lolspeakz and junior-high putdowns and Bible quotes and ads for counterfeit Taiwanese sneakers! ...Come on, trolls, where are you? (Oh - some nice, civilized, appreciative, fawning, sycophantic fans wouldn't be ill-received, either.)

"I ask you," he asked rhetorically, "what kind of an instant gratification culture do we live in if our desires for internet stardom are not instantly gratified? Huh? What kind?" He paused, waiting for a response from his unverifiable, but presumably enthralled, audience. "Oh, wait, that wasn't rhetorical, after all - I demand an explanation! Gratify me! INSTANTLY!" Police will not confirm, but independent sources report that, upon failing to be instantly gratified, the narrator (whose identity is being withheld pending notification of next of kin) ceased to refer to himself in the third person, and, drawing a concealed weapon, exclaimed "Biscuits are what you make of them!" and shot himself fatally in the head and kitchen, causing instant gratification to all those unfortunate enough to have made his previous acquaintance.

Seriously, people - start fanning, following, and commenting obsessively on me - unless you do, I might be responsible for my actions... So give yourself over to my novel miseries, and take the weight of lonely, independent, non-majority-driven existence off my shoulders!

"DO IT OR I'LL SLIT MY WRISTS AND JUMP OUT A WINDOW AND EAT POISON AND DIE AND IT'LL BE ALL YOUR FAULT!!!!"

(That always worked when I was a kid, so I thought it wouldn't do any harm to bung it in now. Also, you don't love me, you never loved me, and I hate you, I hate you, I hate you.)

And, yes, I realize, it's premature to start promising to kill oneself when one has barely begun to annoy people, but as the title of this blog post implies, it's been an incredibly long time, and STILL no one has dedicated a YouTube video to my awesomeness and overdubbed it with shitty pop music... And really, after the last couple of nougats of brilliance I've dispensed, a YouTube video is the very least I expect. After all, once I start really opening up about the twisted circumstances of my existence, that's going to set a pretty high bar, so you all probably ought to try to start out strongly and be ready to get super-ultra-maximo-melodramatic-and-culty about your reverence for me... You'll need to to keep up with what's to come.

So, folks - get cracking. This means YOU.

(for "Novel Miseries" templates, sample cards, and other merchandise which you may purchase to show how much you enjoy "Novel Miseries", please create your own "Novel Miseries" templates, sample cards, and other merchandise - and then pay me for it. Thank you.)

It's not that I don't want to be famous - I just don't want you all to know who I am!

(initially posted in July 2010)

So, yeah - admittedly, it seems counterproductive to purposefully shroud one's identity, when one is already posting blog entries in the relative anonymity afforded by the world wide web. I mean, on the one hand, if you didn't want the world to know your business, why the hell are you writing a blog about it? And on the other hand, if you're writing a blog about it, why wouldn't you be out there shamelessly promoting it in the hopes of developing a regular readership? If a person who already had friends (or at least, acquaintances, I think I can go that far without offending anyone) were to decide that, for reasons known only to themselves, they were going to write a blog and wait for random followers to appear - rather than taking every opportunity to cross-link and talk up their latest effort - it would seem to indicate either a willful disconnect from reality or an attempt to prove some obscure sociological point... And, in my own case, I will freely and proudly admit to both. Throughout these entries, I hope to tread a fine line between talking about my personal experiences of life and actually revealing anything personal enough about myself to permit any kind of positive identification. This will likely fail, and the sooner someone goes all stalker and figures out who I am and posts it for the world the see, the more flattered I will be. In the mean time, I'm not above giving you all some clues:

Hint #1:
ANAGRAMS.

(There. See what you make of that, and check back on future posts for more hints... "Who is that mysterious masked blogger?")

Introducing... (drumroll) ... "Novel Miseries!"

(initially posted in July 2010)

Hello, and welcome to "Novel Miseries", your new favorite blog!

As with traditional blogs, I follow the ancient and time-honored format of sharing all one's most personal thoughts about, musings over, and reflections upon life (in all its various and glorious manifestations, but particularly as observed and experienced by me, someone incredibly boring, to whom nothing interesting has ever, and God willing, will ever, happen) with a vast audience of people whom I don't know, through a marvel of technological innovation undreamt of in previous decades - and which, heretofore, was impossible to accomplish without a tremendous amount of effort, capital outlay, and determination of spirit - in the hopes that my pointless ramblings may divert you, my (and although this is the first post, you've never met me before, don't know me from Adam, and probably don't think too keenly of me upon initial inspection, I'm going to wager that you will keep reading and shall be so bold as to label you with the following term) Constant Reader(s), from your own paltry and pathos-ridden existences - I know you won't mind my referring to your lives as such, since you apparently have nothing better to do than read my insulting and torturously convoluted writing at whatever hour of the clock it is and despite the numerous pressing obligations which must surely be crying for your (if I've done my job right in the last sentence - yes, it really has been just one long sentence, try to parse it if you can) shattered and fragmented attention... such as it is, or may remain. (Bonus points to all who made it through this first assault on their sanity/literacy)

In short: Imma gonna write about me and my sad, sad, life. It's gonna be boring, excruciatingly detailed, there will be depressingly little levity to make up for the number of stagnant, nihilistic posts, and you're all going to love it. You hear me? YOU'RE GOING TO LOVE IT!!!!

(on the plus side, for those of you who care about such things, there will be very few typographical errors, as I tend to spell-check rigorously before posting anything. The only humiliations I shall tolerate are those humiliations up for which I set myself... understand?)

As for what, specifically, I shall write about, I really haven't figured that out yet. But, seeing as how everyone else seems to be doing it, I decided to chip in with my two cents worth - or rather, what used to be my two cents worth... these days, what with inflation, devaluation, stagnation, the Federal Reserve, and the Zionist One World Government Conspiracy, it's really only about one cent worth (but don't get the idea that I'm blaming the Jews for that). Either way, I'll be subjecting you all to the minutiae of my warped thought processes and the diseased fruit of my tiny but active brain, and there's nothing you can do about it, except stop reading (which, if you haven't by now, you're probably not going to). That, or you could suggest something for me to write about. Regardless, I'm sure it shall be extremely random... But you guys like random, right? Otherwise, why would you spatula knee fothergill bustier mizzen wimple the smorgasbord?

Well, until such time as the requests start pouring in and the followers begin to amass, I shall merely rely upon my own, fractally-based, internal algorithm for handling complex systems dynamics, and basically write about whatever comes to mind. I mean, as soon as something does. You have to realize, these things don't happen instantaneously, so why don't you go get a bowl of corn flakes, or foie gras, or better yet, both, while I wait for inspiration to strike?