Choppy Choppy Pee Pee…

The first thing that The Girlfriend© texts me during the working week is usually, Good morning, honey or some derivation thereof. That said, it was a little disturbing to read the following, first thing this morning:

“25 years since Lorena Bobbitt cut off her husband’s penis.”

All right. Thanks.

For those of you who are either too young to know the reference, or are simply not aware of it, Lorena Bobbitt became somewhat of a celebrity for chopping off John Wayne’s penis (her husband, not the actor with the cowboy hat) on June 23, 1993, and then infamously threw it out of her car, into a field. So as not to make it seem like this was an unprovoked attack, she did claim he had raped her earlier that night, so there’s plenty of wrongdoing to go around.

John Wayne Bobbitt became quite popular in the pop culture of the nineties and went on to have a moderately successful career in porn after the incident, so every cloud and all that.

Still, there are a thousand and one ways to get famous in this world… and let me be crystal, I choose any other one!

People Are All Kinds of Dumb #10…

I’m actually going to go ahead and give this one to me, because if you can’t have a laugh at your own expense you shouldn’t be laughing at anyone else.

For many years I had trouble sleeping. I eventually did get to sleep every night, but it was usually a struggle to get there. I would often lie there, thinking about what I had done that day, or about what I was meant to be doing tomorrow. I’d think about my stories, and about what I had eaten for dinner. And yeah, sometimes – like the guy here – I’d be counting farmyard animals until even they had gone to sleep.

Silly as it may sound, I never actually knew how to get to sleep. Perhaps I did when I was a child, but somewhere along the line I forgot. When I was in my thirties I discussed this with my wife at the time. I explained to her that I would just lie there in bed, staring into the darkness, waiting for sleep to take me. I didn’t find it particularly funny, but she really laughed hard that night.

Apparently I was doing it wrong all along. She told me to try closing my eyes. That seemed like an odd concept to a fully-grown adult. That act felt like more of an effort in the search for sleep than simply letting my eyes fall shut naturally… but I tried it, and I haven’t looked back since.

So, you’re never too old to learn something new.

Booze, the Devil’s Juice…

Yesterday I was at a leaving night for The Girlfriend©, who is moving on to new employment pastures. Same job title: new environment… and, more importantly, a step up in all the areas that matter.

There was a meal, followed by a pub quiz, and in amongst all that, there was alcohol. Now, I’m not opposed to alcohol at all – I can certainly enjoy it from time to time – but I know my limits and I stick to them. I do abhor the way alcohol affects some people, and, by extension, how the behaviour of those people affects me and my enjoyment of the night.

I am very competitive when I’m playing games – whether that’s a pub quiz or sat at home on my PlayStation. It’s just how I am. Should I have been a little more forgiving of those around me who cared more about finding the bottom of their glass of red wine than about hearing the next question? Probably. But I think alcohol should be used as a method of relaxation – to put a cap on the end of a long week; or, as in this case, to celebrate a valued colleague who is taking her talents elsewhere.

Last night, some used it as an excuse to be an asshole.

A long-winded way to say I didn’t win? Well, yeah. That too.

Doctor Nose Best…

I lost my sense of smell over a year ago. I don’t know exactly when, but it was around the time I started seeing The Girlfriend©… so perhaps it was precautionary. This was coupled with the sensation that I was suffering from a cold that just wouldn’t quit. Runny nose one day; blocked nose the next. It hasn’t been pleasant to say the least.

I saw my doctor about it last year because I was getting fed up, and after a few months of nasal sprays with only limited success, I was referred to the hospital for further evaluation. That appointment was this morning, where the consultant advised me that I have polyps blocking my airways.

He has put me on a course of steroids, and given me some nasal capsules which he is confident will work. However, if those things are unsuccessful I’m going to need surgery to take care of it, which is something I’d like to avoid if at all possible.

Then again, maybe I could get a free nose job into the bargain.

What I’ve Done This Week #9…

I delved a little deeper this week into the dialogue of Talking in the Fourth. I’m looking forward to grabbing some time and getting through it because I already have a good springboard for the plot and how it ends, and about half of my projected word count committed. It’s (hopefully) a clever twist on a familiar set-up.

I’m also going to make a concerted effort to fire off a bunch of stories in the next few days. I’ve sat on a lot of good pieces for a long time, and I miss those days when I’d have upwards of fifty active submissions… where I genuinely did look forward to the response, even though nine times out of ten it was a rejection.

People Are All Kinds of Dumb #9…

This one goes to one of my young work colleagues… one who should probably remain nameless after this little inquiry. So let’s just call him Kieran.

“Don’t you think Dwayne Johnson and The Rock look like the same person?”, he asked.

Yes. They do.

I asked Kieran if he was serious, at which point he questioned whether or not he was thinking of the right… people.

Now, in his defence it would appear that he is not the only one who doesn’t know that The Rock and Dwayne Johnson do indeed share a passport, but I figured that someone in their early twenties would have their finger a little more directly on the pop culture pulse than he apparently does.

I wonder if he knows that J Lo is really just Jennifer Lopez.

What I’ve Done This Week #8…

Well, I’ve named the piece I was discussing last week. It’s going to be called, Scream, Pause, Play. At least, that’s the working title. These things have been known to change as the story grows. On paper (or, in my head, at least) it’s a very dark story with an interesting narrative form. It will be quite the undertaking, but I’m certainly willing to giving it a go.

I’ve also picked up a story I started a long time ago called, Talking in the Fourth. It’s a first person tale set entirely on a therapist’s couch that should probably be no longer than a couple of thousand words, so it shouldn’t outstay its welcome. I found a good ending for it a few days ago, so now it’s just a matter of writing my way towards it.

Of course, this is along with that damn monster story on the train that hasn’t quite pulled into the station yet.

But I’ll get there.

People Are All Kinds of Dumb #8…

I’m aware that the people of the United States are apt to walk a little on the silly side from time to time, but making a goat the mayor of your town is a bit of a stretch, even for them. Except – in the absence of a compelling human candidate – that’s just what the people of Fair Haven, Vermont did earlier this month.

All right, it’s not quite as stupid as that, but it’s not that far off the mark.

Fair Haven is not a mayoral town therefore the post – won by a three year old Nubian goat called Lincoln, who collected more votes than any of his competitors; including dogs, cats, and a gerbil called Crystal – is purely an honourary thing, kind of like a mascot but with the power to raise taxes. 

The whole thing was done to raise money to build a local playground, although they only brought in about a hundred bucks, so that will barely cover the cost of the shovels required to start the digging.

I can get with the sentiment though. It’s a worthy cause and a quirky way to go about paying for it, but when the Town Manager, Joseph Gunter claimed that the election was: “a good way to get the kids involved in local government”, I was suddenly reminded of what we were talking about.

What I’ve Done This Week #7…

When my marriage broke down and I moved out in 2013 I left my computer, and with that decision, lost a lot of my words.

I didn’t leave any completed stories behind, but there were thousands of words of notes and excerpts from things I was working on, along with interesting snippets that I had written down along the way that I didn’t have a place for at the time of writing. None of it was gold, I’m sure, but I’ve managed to work a lot of those rough notes into decent stories over the years, so it’s a loss that still hurts today.

Since then I have been a lot more careful about anything I write. It’s saved in multiple places – emailed to myself, or written onto a disc.

Recently I came across a couple of paragraphs I had saved onto my phone. It was about memories – the beginning of a thought or perhaps a story idea, although (ironically) I don’t really remember.

I read over it, and after adding quite a bit to it with no real direction at all, an idea began to form. Before long, I had characters, a viewpoint, and – from the most innocuous of beginnings – a pretty good grasp of where I wanted to go with it.

And that’s a good feeling.

People Are All Kinds of Dumb #7…

The family tree and how each branch interacts with each other always makes for interesting conversation. Who is your second cousin? Who is your third cousin twice removed? Are you allowed to marry your uncle? It’s this last question that got me thinking, which then led me down this rabbit hole.

Sologamy. The act of marrying yourself is a trend that is growing in popularity, because I guess that finding a life-partner really has become a chore in 2019. It’s not legal, of course, or recognised by any court in any land, but the fact that I’m even mentioning it here is head-shakingly crazy. Having said that, this is a world in which Tudder is a thing, so maybe not so much.

I always thought self-love involved my hand and my penis, but this kind of gratification is on a whole different level. What happens if you decide that you can no longer get along with yourself and want to go your separate ways? Maybe you can’t stand the sight of yourself anymore. Do you have to present yourself with divorce papers? Find a solicitor and split the cost?

And the kids – what happens to them?

So many questions…