Here we are staring down the barrel of fall, and yet we have hideous summer temperatures. Too much going on in the past several weeks, and I am remiss in blogging about all the shit that's happening.
I don't think I have to go to deeply into the state of our affairs, but I'm seeing enough on anti-social media to know that we have a few people in this world who still give a fuck about it, and a lot who don't.
I've wanted to say it for a long time. I get it, America...most of you just don't care.
How do I know? When I hear people, some of whom I consider friends, and whom I consider to be pretty much upright folks, say the things they do, and with the intent they bring them, I know they just don't give a fuck.
When I hear people whine and opine about the past. The good ol' days, remember those? All the stuff they did years ago, how great things were, and why can't they be that way now?
Why can't the Millennials be like us? Why can't they look like us, do what we want them to, and fit in?
They don't remember, they were once the generation's young ones, or perhaps they do, and are, oh I dunno...JEALOUS?
You didn't get to look/dress/act like the younger ones, because you either didn't have the balls, the savvy, or the need to discover who you are.
Another thing: I've said this one before, based also on experience. You don't like working with younger people, I get it. You don't like their style, they're not "professional" like you, they don't kneel and genuflect before your age, your experience, your superiority. Aw, you don't get no respect.
Respect, assholes, is earned. Or did you forget that?
It also comes from showing no respect for yourself when you come off as something special, you ignorant gits.
In addition, it comes from not being willing to try and work with them.
It does go both ways, to be sure. A certain colleague basically walked on one of my jobs, gave a lame excuse (probably not the full one) and was gone. He cost himself a good recommendation. I wasn't there when it happened, but I thought about it, and I've been before people of all ages who made a less than graceful exit.
Mistake, hopefully a lesson learned.
Now how about some things?
When people go on and on about money...how much they have, where and how they spend it, all their stuff. Okay, that's cool; you worked for it, right? Your money, do what you want with it. It's when some stick it in your face and let you know this is all they have, is to show off without putting anything behind it.
It's said a wise person does not flaunt or show off his wealth. For the record, I am not in that rarified air, and probably never will be. But this wasn't about the money. I knew things I would do had better purpose. Not necessarily higher, but good of some kind.
I did discover something in recent weeks/months about myself. I'd already written about it into a character. The important thing is we don't stop moving; don't stop growing, don't quit learning new things, new skills. Stretch everyone you've got, for as long as you've got it.
The last thing I want is to be a mental wreck, in a hospital somewhere, or out of the things I love doing and dying a slow, pointless death. When I leave my body, I want to still be doing stuff. Imagine what my last book is going to read like if I die while writing it!
I pity the poor bastard who tries to finish it.
Now, let's talk about wasps.
OK, outta somewhere came a footnote blast from the past. I did a book signing at Amalgam Comics in Philly over Labor Day Weekend. The event itself was a washout, but...I met a lot of cool people and made good friends. I also got reconnected with a lot of comics from my past life.
Anyone who remembers me from my Rocky Horror days knows the Teseracte Players were and are based out of a comic book store, the famous Magic Dragon Comics in Arlington. During that time, I noted how the comic world had changed. The artwork had blown up and become something more serious, powerful, and the storylines were more and more creative.
The Wasp was the first female superhero I knew anything about that had a leading role in things. I read a short story in an old, ancient Marvel comic left behind by one of my brothers, in which Janet Pym battled some villain called the Magician. Other than some slight of hand and science skills, he had no discernible powers, and I wondered why Janet's husband worried about him.
Needless to say, the Wasp kicks his ass. I knew almost nothing more of her, because I didn't follow the Avengers much, or anything of that sort for decades. The Wasp was the first female leader of the Avengers, though.
Why all this? Well, there are numerous versions of the Wasp, and Marvel recently rolled her out again, only this time there is a teenage version of her, Nadia, who I think has been in the movies.
Jeremy Whitley did a ten-issue exploration of Nadia's moves after the Avengers. It is artistically lighter, to me, but the characters were well drawn, and he delved into Nadia's bipolarity.
Her father was known to suffer from bipolar disorder, and Nadia's behavior goes into a dangerous area in the series. At the store, I of course read the last issue, and had to get the collections.
This was pretty well done, and it's too bad the series ended with a hopeful note, but leaving the door open for what may come.
Always good to leave the door open; I have no "happily ever after" endings in me, because those just suck.
So I was using this as a tool, plus some advice that my artist friend Mitch Bentley gave me about the Sweet Dreams Series, and what is happening down the road...
Ain't that some shit? Red City has given me what I hope is a rare, five-star review. I'm in a contest they put on, and I won it a couple years ago with A Moment in the Sun. Let's see what happens there...
I also did some road-running again; back to Vermont to see my nephew Angus walk that aisle to marry Shannon, in the lower meadow near the farm. Wonderful to see, and great to reconnect with some of the family and old friends.
The growing up and old thing reminded me of what time I have left in this body, and that I cannot quit. Too much to write, to do...I have too many ideas, some at least are good.
The traveling is letting me add some perspectives for a new work I plan to get to one of these days. I'm taking a lot longer of late formulate ideas for new stories, and I hope that means the pre-think-in will make for better work.
Back to Searching for Roy Buchanan...the book is slowly getting a little traction, and a little buzz. I need to find more places to do signings; that took some time to get started but now I'm finding places that are open, or at least more accepting of us fledgling indie writers.
I think part of the deal lately is the lack of time, and the fact my "career" keeps me on the run, jobbing about. I have to wait until a certain one is "sold," and to see what that offers me. I won't decide the next step until I know.
In the meantime, keeping busy. Book 2 of the SDS, Call it Love is in a very good place. The further adventures of Aki and the gang will include...SPOILER ALERT!!!!!!!!!
Two new characters, who will drive the story, musically and otherwise. Aki will also know, as she's admitted, that her powers of time travel do not help her in the real world. She still has to deal with shit.
So there we have that. Oh, and how about the breakout, that has to happen for this lady.'
I take it Samantha Fish is not going to let anyone shape her any fucking way but the one she wants. But I will say "Kill or Be Kind" is a big step up.
Anyone who bitches the blues is dead hasn't been listening.
I really don't know what all this means. I never know what any of this does. I just know, from the start of this, there are people who give a shit about where we are, and will step up. Better to be one of them, then to stand off to the side and cheerlead.
The rest will be left in the dust, where they belong, choking on it and dying sad, lonely deaths with all their money and toys. None of it means shit in the end; so like what you have, but fight like hell for what is yours.
I'm on the hunt for mine.
"The road goes on forever, but the party never ends..." -- Robert Earl Keen