The 300... (...th Posting Of Drivel-y Bits To The Drivel-y Place)!

 The 300...

Islamorada, FL - Photo by Joe

300 times have I done this. I sit and stare at this screen and wonder, "What in THEE hell is wrong with me?" I'm not sure how to commemorate my 300th post. For POST #100, I shared the first sentence of each of the first 100 posts. Tedious, but the results were kind of cute, I guess. When it came time for my 200th POST, I spent hours stringing together the first word of the first post, the second word of the second post, and so on - all the way to 200. That post reads like the offspring of a fever dream and a dictionary on acid. For some reason, I felt compelled to mark my 250th POST with a "clip show" - not a true greatest hits collection; more of a random sampling of my first quarter-thousand posts. You're welcome to click on that one and then on the links within it, for old times' sake. I'll wait...

Did you go? I went. I even clicked on some of the links! One still mystifies me, and gives me an idea that isn't very good but when has that ever stopped me...

Presenting the Mostly Harmless Drivel 300th Post Awards! 

• Most Viewed Post: I still don't know why, but CARDBOARD & APATHY: A LOVE STORY is still my most-viewed post, by a LOT. I like it, but it's not that good. Some cute dialogue, a stupid ending, but what brought this post to so many screens? I just don't get it.
• Least Viewed Post: Okay - technically, a couple of the posts from this month are the least-viewed, but that's not fair. So, of the 270ish posts from before this month, the least-viewed is We'll Drink To That! And That! And That.... Brings back memories. [Maris] and I used to have shots and chips for dinner, and this post utterly FAILS to capture the fun and buzzy cleverness of those evenings and their toasts. I remember, though...
• Best Hobo: It's a tie! SANTA FE JINGLEBELL, THE WORLD'S MOST CHRISTMASSY TRAMP and JACK SKUNK will have to share this trophy. No matter - some fellow hobo will steal it within the first week. What can I say - I'm a sucker for a hobo with hope - and second chances.
• Worst Hobo: Wicked Paul Fourteen-Toes. Yeah, he's not very nice at all.
• Best Picture: 

  

  Jim Sees Me! Photo by Joe

  Okay, technically not my best picture, by a longshot, but it's got Jim and Charlie, and Jim's saying hey to me (or, "hey - put your phone down, mate!"), so I dig it. Also it's not the muddy Bart Simpson doll, for the dozenth time, and you're welcome!
• Author's Least Favorite Post: [Deleted]  Ha! Sorry, it really has been removed. If it hadn't been, this would be post number 301, and space-time would collapse in on itself like a neutron star. 
• Author's Favorite Post: This one was hard, and if you ask me to choose again next week, I could easily come up with several other selections. But tonight, this award goes to Heads, We're Dancing. It's just a wee bit of flash-fiction-y romance with a title stolen from Kate Bush, but it begat my favorite and most potential-ish novel. So, yeah. 

Lasers. Why'd it have to be... lasers? - Photo by Joe

So, there are 300 of these things, now. How 'bout that? Not sure I have another 300 in me, but who knows? There are at least that many names left on John Hodgman's list of hoboes. And I still have muse-like influencers - like three of 'em! So stay tuned. Maybe we can celebrate some more hundreds together...

Thank you for taking the time to read my mind, such as it is!

NaBloPoMo: Are We Really Doing This?

November. It's pretty, but it spawns monsters. Photo by Joe & [Maris]

My dear, dear readers (I think there might be FOUR of you, now!) - It is November 1st. I know what you're thinking. You're thinking how impressed you are that I know what month it is. No, that's not it. Some of you might be thinking, "Ah, November - when a writer's fancy turns to thoughts of National Novel Writing Month, or NaNoWriMo." I can't blame you for thinking that, and you might also be tempted to think, after this summer's Camp NaNoWriMo project resulted in the spilling of over 80,000 words (and counting), that the bug has re-bitten me and I'll be noveling away at 1,800 words a day throughout this month.

WRONG!

Yes, my writer's pilot light has been relit to some extent in recent months (more on that in a future post), but no - this month, I shall attempt NaBloPoMo, or National Blog Posting Month. I've done this once before, and I thoroughly enjoyed it (that's a lie). It's simple enough - just a blog post a day for 30 days. Now I REALLY know what you're thinking. You're thinking, "WHY? Why would anyone attempt such a thing? What is the matter with you?"

Reasons... 

First, what's the matter with YOU? Ha!

Also, because why not? "Because you're not done with your 2023 novel, Joe. That's why not!" Yeah, well, that novel needs so much reworking that my brain does the blue screen of death when I try to think about it. Actually, it's more of a pill bug-style curling up into an impenetrable safety ball type of thing. 

How about because it's hard, and you know how I just adore a challenge. "No you don't! You hate challenges! Hello? You majored in business - and you only recently managed to lose the word 'clerk' from your job title after THIRTEEN YEARS." Huh... well... shut up!

Because I now have twelve first drafts of novels, and some of them might have futures, and that means edits and beta readers and rewrites and editors (are there still editors?) and finding (or creating) a path to publishing, and doesn't all that just sound exhausting? I'd literally rather write 30 blog posts in a month. And yes - I'd do another novel instead, but I have a self-imposed "No more novels until one of those 12 sees the light of day" rule. "That's a silly rule." Shoosh! Also I'm out of ideas.

Because those NaNoWriMo projects have made me entirely too wordy, and I need to relearn how to write compact prose. "No argument here..."

Finally, because it's such a delight to watch myself transform in 30 short days from this:

Look at that happy idiot. Photo by [Maris]

...to this:

Ay Caramba! Photo by Joe

Fun, non? Yeah, I know. I'll go ahead and call "BAD IDEA" right now. But who knows - maybe I'll drop something here that doesn't stink, this month. One note: I promise to only do a hobo story every third day or so. To you two readers who love the hobo stories, I'm sorry. To the other couple of readers, YOU'RE WELCOME!! And if you're still here, my dear [New Reader], I'll try not to be too wordy. I know you're really busy.

Okay. Ready? Are we really doing this? Yes, yes we are. 

Here. We. Go...

2021 "Resolutions" - A Self-assessment

Not "weird," exactly. Photo by Joe

  

Before I get into my month-late Doomed New Year's Resolutions for 2022, I thought it might behoove me (yeah - I said behoove, so what) to take a look at last year's (such as they were), and see how I did. As you'll recall, I had a comprehensive list - and I even used bullet points. I know - fancy! 

I began by lamenting the Cat-5 dumpster fire that engulfed us in January 2021, and by declaring that my intention was to find the horizon and remind myself that all storms end. Eventually. Result: FAIL. Not my fault! I actually do see the horizon - quite often in fact, but the storm continues to rage, and it is sentient and malicious and promises to get worse or die trying. I'll keep working on this one in 2022, because what choice have I got?

Next, I promised to be twisted, and resolved to get the real camera(s) out and take some weird pictures. Result: FAIL. Oh, I took a few odd pictures...

Halloween Ice In Gatorade - Photo by Joe

[Maris]'s Gnomes Watching Miss Triple X-Mas - Photo by Joe

...Still watching. Photo still by Joe

Still a FAIL, though, for these were shot with my trusty iPhone, which is no slouch - but not exactly my Nikon - and two of 'em are from the very same minute! Wanna know how much action my Nikon saw in 2021? It shot eleven frames in total. Here's the best and weirdest one...

Yep. It's a bunny. Photo by Joe and his poor neglected D-80

See? Fail. Moving on...

• If the country continues to burn, I'm gonna toast some marshmallows. Result: FAIL. Not a single marshmallow was toasted. This year, for sure...
  
• I will become a better pickpocket, and not get caught all the time. Result: Qualified success. I didn't get caught once. See, you never fail if you don't try!
  
• I guess I'll try (harder) to avoid the plague like the plague. Result: SUCCESS! I totally didn't get the plague in 2021. Not even a little bit. As far as I know.
  
• Once the smoke clears - and yes, there will be smoke - I'm going to go downtown and take a good, long sniff, just to prove to myself that even the foulest four-year stenches can dissipate. Result: Qualified success. I was at Nats Park - not downtown. Smelled wonderful, though!
  
• I will finally find an editor or agent or something, and try to get my 2013 novel published. You guys know anyone? Result: FAIL. What is wrong with me???
  
• I'm going to go through the building where I work, and take down all the calendars. They're all stuck on March 2020, and they make me sad sometimes. Result (you would not believe the trouble I'm having typing "Result," today!): FAIL. That would've been too much work. I just took down the ones in my department.
  
• I will see the stars for what they are, and feel the cumulative age of their light. Result: SUCCESS! Kind of a cheat, though, because I'm already really good at this.
  
• Two words: ferrett-juggling. I guess that's one hyphenated word. Whatever. Gonna need one more ferret for this. Result: see below...
  
• I resolve to get one more endangered black-footed ferret, for the ferret-juggling, if [Maris] says yes. Result: see below...
• [Maris] said no. It'll have to be 2 ferrets and a panda. Result: FAIL. (sigh...)
• I'm going to get my grilled cedar-plank salmon to turn out as perfectly as my late father-in-law's always did. Result (copying/pasting "Result," now!): FAIL. I actually did attempt this one, and it wasn't bad - just a far cry from his.
• Gonna find my Ebn-Ozn t-shirt. Result: OH FFS I FORGOT TO LOOK FOR MY EBN-OZN T-SHIRT! A goal for 2022...
• Mirrored contacts. I've wanted them since I was fourteen. Result: FAIL. Who am I kidding?
  
• I resolve to take the Christmas tree down. Result: Success! Too easy.
  
• I will learn to like snow. HAHAHAHAHA just seeing if you're paying attention. Result: HAHAHAHAHA.
• Drink more water. I'm not going to do this. I'm telling YOU to drink more water. Please. Result: HA!
• Okay, I'll drink more water, too. There's water in gin, right? Result: If there is a trace of water in martinis, this was a resounding success.
• I will laugh at the typo on my 10 years of service certificate at work, every day - instead of rolling my eyes at it. Result: Qualified success. I don't look at it every day.
• I will demand a better future. Result: Technically I did this, and continue to do it, all the time. I even try on occasion to help make a better future - but have you any idea how HARD that is? It's like work.
• I will stop making lists. Result: FAIL.
• I will stop making lists. Result: FAIL.
• I will stop repeating myself. Result: FAIL.
• See what I did there? Ha!
  
• And I will hold [Maris]'s hand more - especially when she's trying to type. [blogger's note: on my phone, I have a shortcut set up so that when I type two m's, I get the full [Maris]. I keep trying that on this laptop, and obviously it doesn't work, and it wasn't until about the third try that I realized why.] Result: Success, I think. We're pretty committed to frequent hand-holding. Shut up - it's cute.
• I resolve to be a little smarter, maybe. Result: FAIL. Not my fault, though! You can't become smarter. More knowledgeable/less ignorant - sure. But not smarter.

There. Still here? Wow - you really are good sports - both of you! I promise to make my 2022 resolutions list shorter, and to use copy/paste more.

See you soon!

 

The Storm

 

A storm...

"Life is a shitstorm, in which art is our only umbrella."

- Mario Vargas Llosa

 

I've been thinking about New Year's resolutions - my own, and those of my (which here means John Hodgman's) 700 hoboes. Lately, thinking has been a struggle - and creativity, normally one of my core strengths as a human, has become depressingly hard to summon. A few months ago, I scrolled back to the beginning of this blog and reread every post. I cringed at a few lingering typos, and at some clunky prose and even clunkier ideas, but I laughed a lot, and came away feeling pretty good about a lot of it. I also couldn't help but notice that all that fun and frolic and productivity has dropped off rather precipitously since sometime in 2015. Over the past five years, I've managed to peck out about seven little blog posts per year. In the five years before 2016, I averaged 31 (with that drop-off starting in 2015). You might see where I'm going with this.

Oh, tell me you're NOT going to attempt to blame five years of writer's block on the President!

Okay, firstly - it really is a shitstorm, out there. Look:

See? Stormy! Told you!

Secondly - I haven't truly had writer's block. Over those same five years, I did manage to crank out five more of my little Camp NaNoWriMo novels - and one or two of them may even have some potential. And the few blog posts I've emitted haven't been bad. It's just a challenge to create, lately. Joy is in short supply, and hope has been outlawed.

But, yeah. I kinda DO blame my personal creativity drought on the bloviating tangerine Mussolini currently stealing the silverware and setting fire to the White House and the nation, flipping the Monopoly board over as he tantrums his way toward the door. Okay - technically, I blame the storm, but we all know it is partly of his making. You've seen it. It's real. It's everywhere. It's bad. It's a shitstorm. No need to waste time describing it. It started in 2015, and has built and built and built its way to the Category Five monster that rages around all of us, today.

So. What to do? First, I'll find the horizon. Remember that all storms end. Eventually:

Yes, I know the horizon was visible in the first two pics. Shut up.

 

Second, if I can't be funny or creative, then dammit I'm gonna be twisted. Like, baby-hobo-in-a-blender twisted. Here:

America.

That picture will be old enough to rent a car, this year, and it still says more than most of my other photographs. I resolve to get the old Nikon out - and maybe the ancient 35mm Minoltas - and take some weird pictures. There! A resolution! I probably won't do it.

Ooh! Wait! Here come some more!

• If the country continues to burn, I'm gonna toast some marshmallows.
• I will become a better pickpocket, and not get caught all the time.
  
• I guess I'll try (harder) to avoid the plague like the plague.
• Once the smoke clears - and yes, there will be smoke - I'm going to go downtown and take a good, long sniff, just to prove to myself that even the foulest four-year stenches can dissipate.
• I will finally find an editor or agent or something, and try to get my 2013 novel published. You guys know anyone?
• I'm going to go through the building where I work, and take down all the calendars. They're all stuck on March 2020, and they make me sad sometimes.
• I will see the stars for what they are, and feel the cumulative age of their light.
  
• Two words: ferrett-juggling. I guess that's one hyphenated word. Whatever. Gonna need one more ferret for this.
• I resolve to get one more endangered black-footed ferret, for the ferret-juggling, if [Maris] says yes.
• [Maris] said no. It'll have to be 2 ferrets and a panda.
• This year, I will find a new place to hang the cute little lighthouse cross-stitch my sister gave [Maris] and me when we got married. The new towels in that bathroom don't quite go with the colors in the cross-stitch, and while it's not a problem at this time, I fear it could become one. UPDATE: [Maris] would rather just change the towels. Crisis averted!
  
• I'm going to get my grilled cedar-plank salmon to turn out as perfectly as my late father-in-law's always did.
• Gonna find my Ebn-Ozn t-shirt.
• Mirrored contacts. I've wanted them since I was fourteen.
• Who am I kidding? I will never get my grilled salmon to come out the way Dad-in-law's did. 
• I resolve to take the Christmas tree down.
• I will learn to like snow. HAHAHAHAHA just seeing if you're paying attention.
  
• Drink more water. I'm not going to do this. I'm telling YOU to drink more water. Please.
• Okay, I'll drink more water, too. There's water in gin, right?
• I will laugh at the typo on my 10 years of service certificate at work, every day - instead of rolling my eyes at it.
• I will demand a better future.
  
• I will stop making lists.
• I will stop making lists.
  
• I will stop repeating myself.
• See what I did there?
  
• And I will hold [Maris]'s hand more - especially when she's trying to type. [blogger's note: on my phone, I have a shortcut set up so that when I type two m's, I get the full [Maris]. I keep trying that on this laptop, and obviously it doesn't work, and it wasn't until about the third try that I realized why.]
• I resolve to be a little smarter, maybe.

Okay, that's all for now. If you're still here, you are a trooper, and I applaud your patience. Thanks for climbing inside my head for a few minutes. It's time for my martini. I will toast to the end of the storm - and to the art that protects us in the meantime...

Photo by mm - see? I did it again! Photo by [Maris]

 

Ten And Oh...

Someday, Buck. Someday...

Hi! I may or may not be back! I've been... well, I've been paying attention to the world, for a bit. This resulted in the abrupt and acute shutdown of Every Single Creative Atom In My Body. But then, in July, I started yet another novel, forcing myself to conjure words, as one might force a foot into an ill-fitting shoe. I had over 50,000 words by July's end, but apparently, there was still a lot more story to tell, at that point. 

So I kept writing.
  

Eleven times, I've taken on this challenge. Ten times, I've succeeded. I first attempted National Novel Writing Month in 2009, as an unemployed layabout, and I "won," which here means I managed to crank out a 50,000-word novel in the span of 30 days. I was immensely proud of that accomplishment, but I had a few more stories to tell - which is more impressive if you know me and my life, both of which are somewhat lacking in story fodder.

Fast-forward to late-November, 2018. Between the traditional November National Novel Writing Months and the summertime Camp NaNoWriMo sessions, I have now written *TEN* novels. More accurately, that's ten first drafts of novels. And two of them - maybe three, now - might have a smidgen of potential. But here's the thing: I've only ever bothered to reread one of them. I've done no real rewrites - only minor self-editing. My beta readers consist of [Maris] and one friend. I have no editor, no agent, no idea what I'm supposed to do next.

Okay, that's not entirely true. I have a vague understanding of what I should do next. I should get some beta readers' notes on my work, engage a professional editor, and find some sort of agent-like thing to move one or two of these stories from my laptop to the world, and metamorphose from writer to author. 

But that just sounds like work. I still have like six hundred hoboes to tell you about. As much as I would love to share some of these longer pieces with you and everyone else, I'd rather just keep writing. Apparently, creating another scene, another character, another happy ending, is more important to me at the moment than is sharing any of the previously-created scenes, characters, and happy endings.

So, we have a problem. Immovable object, I'd like to introduce you to irresistible force. Oh? You've met? That's wonderful. I'm sure you two totally hit it off, like, immediately...

Okay, so, I'm not allowed to write anything new until I've done something with these first drafts. There is work to be done. The fun part is over. It's time to tear down, to rewrite, to market, and to sell, sell, sell.

[sad face]

It only makes sense, right?

Um, nope. It is December of 2018. Look around. Have you seen the universe, lately? I need this - obviously. I will edit if I feel like editing. I'll do rewrites if and when I feel like doing rewrites. And I'll engage editors and agents and lawyers and the market when they all show up on my doorstep and engage ME! And that, as they say, will be that.

In the meantime, I will tell you what Irontrousers The Strong did to deserve his Wes Craven-esque fate. I'll explain why Manatee The Railyard Toreador was so afraid of leaves. I might even describe, in uncomfortably explicit detail, how Swing State Myron acquired his hobo name. And maybe I'll Get All Bloggy, once or twice.

I've been plodding through my story of Milo and Rachel and their "nodus tollens" since July 1st, and while I absolutely love them to bits, I have to re-learn how to tell a story in a thousand words. Or to vent and bitch and tell you what I've been doing or what I should be doing or what I wish I were doing. Or to simply blather on and on without saying anything.

It's my blog, and I'll ruin it as I see fit. What are you gonna do, *START* reading it? 

LOL

Join me for whatever comes next. Or don't. It's all the same to the universe...