Doing Dribbles

I have a lot of projects.  I’m sure alla you know I write books; I’ve finished one and am now getting it copyrighted and sent out to independent publishers, so now I’ve been working on my next book.

 

Next book is going to be in a series of at least four.  I tend to sort of do this.  My last book I actually did the preliminary work for four separate books that all make appearances in the main story, all squeezed down to fit into a novella, two of which are the main focus and had to be developed completely.  I thought that it’d be a cool, ‘less is more’ approach, and give the world lots of depth that the reader wouldn’t necessarily see upon first reading, but would be conscious of and draw them deeper into the story.

So with this one I’m just going to go all out and write four books as the tip of the iceberg, and have beneath the surface biographies of every character, and make this project more character-focused and less message focused like previous book.

Besides that, there’s one weird book that’s really hard to write, so I’ve been not rushing it and working on it on the side.  Sometimes suddenly something will happen and I’ll just hammer out a whole chapter from four to daybreak, but that’s pretty rare, so it might not be done anytime soon, who knows.

And all of that’s just the books.  I do other stuff too.  Like movies.  I met this guy named Gus in a film class I took in high school, and me and him have been making movies for a few years now.

Here's those if you'd like to see them.

But ever since we’ve finished our first short together, we’ve been talking about this one pet movie that we essentially wrote in conversations with friends and each other for about two years.  We started filming it a year ago, and now we’ve only got a few more scenes to shoot before we sit down for a week and do nothing but edit it and release it in parts on youtube.

It’s called Bundeloafe II: The Return of Jaffar, and it’s seriously the craziest thing I’ve ever worked on.  We just talked so much about how to make a movie that no one has ever seen before and just movies in general and where we think they’re heading, just putting as much as we possibly could into it, that at some point during the shooting a while back, we realized that this thing was going to be at least an hour and a half long.

But when you work on massive projects like those, you don’t really have anything to show for it until they’re done, so it’s sort of hard to tell people who may find me having just woke up at 3 in the afternoon in my underwear that my work life is stressful, intense, and requires a lot of attention to mental health in order to not fall into bouts of depression. 

So I’m going to do little things.  I do little things anyway, it’s just that a lot of the time the little things become big things after a while, IE a short, stupid movie with your friend becoming this massive, feature-length, surrealist commentary on the future of the film industry, or a short book for your senior project in high school becomes this sprawling, four books in one, philosophical bleeding of everything you feel about humanity’s existence.  But there’s stuff like little comics, 30-second songs comparing child singers Michelle Creber and Uria Shelton, drawings, books I’ve made in my childhood, videos parodying middle schoolers reviewing things on the internet, etc., and all that’s just sort of sitting there.

So I’m going to put those little things here that I’m always doing anyway, some of them will totally never become anything more than what they are, some of them might become my new, put all of my heart and dick into love projects, sure, we’ll see.

So Mondays I’m going to post a doodle.  Something simple to start the week.

Wednesdays I’m going to post a little thing of miscellaneous variety.  A short or long story, a short or long essay, a short song, a long song, a short video, a long video, whatever comes out I’ll stick here.

Fridays I’m going to recommend things.  I guess sort of reviewing.  Maybe not recommend.  I’ll figure all that out.  But the main deal is that it will be something to show that I didn’t make, with a written thing attached that I did.  Sort of like the Wolfman and the Airship Captain dealio I did a bit back.

So…  Yeah.  I’m going to put little things on here just for fun and if you would like to see those things then come here for them.

The Blank Page

    

The thing about being incredibly insecure about the shit you make is sharing it is tough.  Especially old shit you’ve made.  I look back on stuff I’ve just written earlier this year and I get embarrassed.  I mean.  I get embarrassed whenever I read anything I write, but not in the same way.  Nearly everything makes me sick.  There’s an exception here and there, though.

I recently read this paper I wrote for a writing class I was in 2 years ago.  It was around the time I was ruminating on actually being a writer in the future.  I thought about it a lot.  It took a lot of deliberation to even get to the point where I said to myself that I wanted this, and then when I got there, there was even more deliberation on what it actually meant to be a writer.  I was scared and sad and down on myself and in that empty place I go to back when I was four crying on my bunk bed because I was afraid about what happened when I died.  Something I was discovering at the time that was incredibly comforting when in that place, was that I could work through things I was feeling and thinking; slowly letter by letter forming words on the screen in front of me.  This is among the more polished of those workings through of things.  This in particular, came from my writing teacher and the Woman who saved me from High School*, Melissa Hasebrook’s writing class.  Very typical of me at the time.  Barenaked Ladies quote.  A little too heavy on the film-noir narration.  Very little editing.  I couldn't help editing it a bit for this post. 


The Blank Page.
By Max Wilson

Wiped out down the stairs
I'll bet you there's a song in there
I'm not sure I'm prepared to write it down

That guy should be me
I'd look much better on TV
Then the world would see
That I can do anything…

Don't write me off as an also ran
Just mark me down as an angry man…
Life passed me by, but it's not my fault
I'll lick my wounds, could you pass the salt?

If I were the king
All my subjects they would dance and sing
They could kiss my ring
And kiss my ass
When I'm old and grey
I'll look back on my life and say:
"Give me one more day,
And still I'll never do anything."

-Never Do Anything (Steven Page/Ed Robertson)

By Barenaked Ladies

            Here I stare again, at the white nothingness of the blank page.  Not just any kind of blank page.  That empty void. Having nothing at all to fill it with.  No stories of stoic detectives hunting down twisted child-molesters, no boxers on the brink, biting people’s faces off, no rants on politics, no nothing.  I can almost feel the cinder block in my skull, weighing me down.  My neck straining to keep it held on my shoulders, in danger of falling on the hard wooden desk in front of me.  Cracking open like a thin glass vase.  Maybe then I can sift through the bits of skull and cement and find one possible idea or story, or anything to fill this blaring white page.  Gnawing at me.

     It’s hard to ignore it, it being the only source of light in my darkened room as I tap out the rhythm for that stupid E-Z-Pop-popcorn jingle out on the manila folder on my desk.  For a second I forget that inside of the folder is tucked another rejected story from another magazine; another round of the reality of the difficulty of making it in the writing world is fired in my chest.  I can’t stand being in that cold glow of the blank page any longer.

     Ah, what does it matter?  You think you’re going to kid yourself for another few months, thinking you’re not going to check yourself into the hotel of the billion other also-rans?  All the other assholes who thought they had the Great American Novel between their ears?  Then when feet hit the fire they whimpered and scampered into the corner, tail between their legs, with nothing to their name but a once perceived potential.

     Even if I reached that seemingly unattainable title in the sky, what would it prove?  I go down in history as the Twain of Twenty-Ten; college’s studying my work, scholars debating my philosophies, high-school students being forced to read my books for their Lit classes all the while being tempted to throw it down for playing Halo 7?  What would that mean?

     My dreary gaze is turned outside my window, to another blank page.  This time black.  Much more haunting.  Millions have tried to fill it with meaning, some brilliant, basing their philosophies on scientific studies, empirical evidence and deep thought.  Others not so much, filling it like the unwilling mouth of an eight-year-old alter boy, with lies based on lies, and stories with no roots to reality, and willing to kill and torture by the billions for the preservation of it.  Some never dwell on the meaning of it for a fleeting second, seeing it just as the backdrop of the boring, cliché-ridden play of their lives.  However, one thread of similarity is sewn through them all; they all are just the content of the brains of creatures with no meaning.  As you pan farther and farther away from Earth, it’s hard not to dwell on how goddamn small we are.  How the monumental nature of the universe is completely unaffected, and keeps on churning in spite of all the things that seem so important to us ants. Friends moving away.  A cute girl dumping you for a pig-fucking neo-Nazi. The cat you had since childhood being run-over by your republican next-door neighbor.  Your friend’s and family’s deaths.  Your own. 

    
    I turn back to the blank page floating over my desk and smile.  The universe could collapse upon me like the hungry mouth of a great, cosmic lummox, and I wouldn’t care one tiny bit.  It could be the Paxil talking, but I know for sure I wouldn’t sprint to the page, to write something, anything for my legacy in the universe to be known.  In fact, I might give out one final chuckle at all of those Falwell’s and Reagan’s, who sold their souls for a legacy, a shiny golden pyramid scraping the heavens, built on the backs of the unfortunate.  Just so their memory can remain as a tiny skidmark on the boxer shorts of history.  Them and all the people worrying every second of the day about what people think never grasped the concept that none of that matters, and that there’s something more out there in the nebula somewhere.

   
  So yeah, the world’s going to end, and the nothingness of the page won’t matter in the long run, and sure that’s scary as shit, but for some reason it’s not terrifying me to tears as of now.  Maybe for  there’s comfort in how small and insignificant this page is in comparison to the Scheme.  Whatever.  All I know is that I’m not going to spend my insignificant existence letting a tiny feeling of fear stop me from the pursuit of everything behind that title in the sky, and keep myself just a little bit longer, from that 6X3 pit of never done anything.

 
* Of course she’s not the only person who saved me from high school, Mr. Yant, Ms. Reese, Ms. Santer, and Mr. Stotts deserve oodles of credit as well, and I wish were able to better express how much of an impact all of you had on me.  All that said, it’s undeniable how much Hasebrook was McGonagall* to me.

*I use this reference knowing full well how much more awesome Hasebrook is than McGonagall, and how much I need to write about Harry Potter here.  People who know me know I’ve got strong feelings on both- “Oh my god I love this.” and “Oh dear god this is the worst thing ever.” sides of the debate.  …But when (highlight for spoiler lovers) McGonagall protected Harry from Snape in Deathly Hallows pt. 2, I got teary eyed.  A lot of times the parenty love between a teacher and student is unspoken; sort of showed in gestures, approaches, and challenges, and not in words and communication as much as other relationships.  Sometimes, especially for someone like me who is severely unsure and sees glasses as half empty as I do, it’s hard to see.  But that moment reminded me of when it's clear as day, and almost made me forgive all the slights Harry Potter made before, like...  This one thing I can't mention because I'll go into a blind rage and destroy the focus of this post and make it all about Harry Potter.  Okay.  This certain magical object used at the end of one of the movies that is never addressed ever again and has the power to solve every single problem in the series and the use of it is so silly and stupid and...  Ugh.  I'll write about it a few weeks from now.  Cross my heart, hope to die, stick a cupcake in my eye.  Love to all of you.

COME HERE

It's been a long time, blarg.
Time to catch your ass up.

As of this day, I have four-ninths of what is now Eating the Ram's Head and Fig Leaf finished.  I've fixed her up into a new beast with the old bones of the original, and it's something I can finish and can move on from to something new once it's polished and sent out.  Four-ninths of it is polished and ready to be sent out, few minor tweaks pending. 

After it is done, I have a four-part series that jumps off of the end of Ram's Head that I'm going to start to work on.  As of right now it's called Blackeye Trip.  Imagine it as what I would do were I in charge of a campy, low-budget Star Trek type show back in the day, and there weren't no TV censors.  It's a lot more character-based than anything I've done, so I'm excited about that.

Later down the line, maybe becoming first priority after the first of the four of the above is finished, there's the experimental, possibly two-parter Detective Antipathy.  I don't know how to prime that, but it's weird and there's a lot of stuff about irreality, murder, profiling and writing.

Things have been a lot less dank since my last holiday wishes, and the day for publishing deep, engaging, warped, cute little polished up books is soon upon us.  I'd like to be posting shit up here, like a take you all through my work day type thing, essays, letters, etc.  I have a backlog of essays and such, so I could just post them, but I don't want to make promises of weekly updates as I'm hoping to keep up my break-neck pace with getting Ram's Head done.

Let me know if you want to let me know something, or talk about something, or ask something, or something! 

I Whine, and Then Talk About the Future of Journals Wilson

So. With the end of the year arriving soon I've been assessing just exactly how much this year has, for me, sucked cyst covered donkey dicks. For the record; the CCDD™ sucking level has been significantly higher than that of any other year I have personally suffered through. I don't want this blog to turn into a blog of bitching about personal shit, I have a personal journal for that and I feel like most people don't want to hear about it. The internet is kind of infested with that anyhow. But this year fucking sucked onthat donkey cock like its ungrateful urethra was full of liquid gold. At least for the most part.

But I've learned something important from all of this. Or at least cemented some things for me. The best of intentions mean very, very little. Hell, the best of actions can weigh just as much. Inside, I'm someone with an insatiable thirst for knowledge and learning, I know what I want to do with my life, and I want to treat everyone close to me with all of the respect, caring and love I feel I deserve, and I want to be as objective and skeptical as humanly possible. I've tried my hardest to let my internalization guide my actions to the best of my ability. However, that shit hits a fucking

adamantium wall in the face of the strong opposition of apathy, selfishness, and insanity. 2011 was highlighted by outright abuse for most of the year. Then when college started up, some good old fashioned individually driven but non-individualized education astonishingly beneath my level...just heartbreak after heartbreak, it all chipped away at me. I was constantly anxious and depressed, my self-confidence real damn low. I don't know... People tell me I don't act introverted and unsure of myself, and a lot of people don't believe me when I have told them even before all of this, but I really, really am. Always been.

I guess it just don't show all the time. But anyone can just ask certain English teachers I have had over the years and they'll tell you I'm way too hard on myself and stuff. It helps with arguments and writing, to be constantly wracked with dissent in my head, and I never want to lose that, but at times it can be debilitating. So when I tell you this was a low point for me, especially when fall came around, I hope you appreciate the import of that. I couldn't write most of the time. When I did I couldn't get over how much I hated it and how awful I thought it was. And after I had only recently discovered that this lifestyle is how I want to guide my

existence, I felt unfulfilled and lost. I had to have a significant amount of individual drive to do a lot of work on things that were waaaaaay below my level. Shit. Most of it was below my level before I entered fucking middle school. I felt like I was in pre-sophomore year Max's life again (Pre-Hasebrook/Yant), where the teachers are all: "I can tell you're a very bright young man, but why aren't you putting in the effort needed to get your work done?"

All of the internalized shit that guided me began to be questioned and eroded. I didn't feel like I could be a writer, that I was a good writer, or anything. And then people were telling me that I'd get used to it, first year is always the hardest, yadda. The prospect of me getting used to this, and essentially stunting my

growth as a learner and writer, was not one that filled me with heel-clicking sunshine. The time not spent worrying and anxious and sad, was full of a lot of me desperately trying to find things that could make me happy, or just distract me, and most of the time there was nothing. That was the dumps I was in as the year became closer to the ending than the beginning.

So with that icky personal mess behind us, well, behind this paragraph anyway... If anyone really wants to know more about anything I'm not one to be hesitating on answering were you to ask. But let us get to what matters, or how this is effecting this blog, writing, and the frequency that I will be writing on it. I'm taking a quarter off from school to write. I'm hoping to get at least one or two things sent out for publication. Getting one out wouldn't be too hard. Doing little one offs and essays on here once a week shouldn't be any harder.

I apologize to anyone I annoyed with my bitching. Everything just sucks and has sucked for quite some time, and please appreciate the difficulty for me to do this. I thank everyone who helped me get through this nonsense, both those who should know who they are and those who do not. Hell, thanks to the people who will help me in the

future continue to get through this, I don't discriminate against actions that haven't been taken yet. I offer nothing but hopes for pain and retribution to everyone who made it worse. Oh, you assholes deserve much more than that, but I'm in a jolly mood what with Christmas and all. Reaping the crops raised from the seeds you have sewn would be a nice Christmas gift though. It's never too late to make a very dangerous enemy less vengeful! Isn't that what Christmas is all about? 'Tis the fucking season, you scum.

COMING TODAY! FOR REAL REAL! THIRD TIME'S A CHARM!

Max On Musics 2:

Saturday, 2:43 PM (Death of a Dreamer) By Logan Whitehurst

Max in Kindergarten

I found this in my basement:

The foreshadowing is frankly, a little creepy. I have two apple cores on my night stand right now (fuji), and I've been actually training for a Super Mario Bros. speed run contest this coming saturday:

http://supergameteam.com/events.htm

I still love that game so much. So magic. I just appreciate it on a much deeper level now... And I can actually beat it. And I might win money for that. Which seriously is a childhood dream come true.

And of course the obvious "I want to learn how to make books" thing is a major 'woah' factor of course.

But I was just thinking about kindergarten because of this. My teacher told my parents that I had a dry sense of humor, which you don't really see in many kids that age. It's weird, I never wondered when I developed that kind of dry/dark sense of humor. Now I guess I've just always been like that.

I also had two girlfriends in kindergarten. AT THE SAME TIME. It was indeed a simpler time. Or as my friend Cait puts it: "that time I tricked four year olds into polygamy." Which is of course not the case. There is no way they were four years old. I don't think you can even get into kindergarten if you're four years old. That's ridiculous.

But yeah. I just wanted to write this out so I wouldn't have to think about the English101 paper I have to write that I don't want to write. Shit. Looks like I have to do that now. Then a few more things I don't want to do. Then winter break! Which will be awesome! Then more stuff I don't want to do, perhaps interspersed with a few select things that I do want to do! Then death! Yaaaayyy!

UPDATE

So I'm pretty much done with the writing of Ayn and I, and just have to edit and glue it all together. It's short, incredibly long for an essay, but short for a book. It's got some good stuff in it. I think when I'm done with my first draft, I'll send it to some of my friends or read it to them and then take notes and do a second draft and figure out what to do from there. I had high hopes for it, thinking it could get published, but right now I'm in a slump and thinking it sucks and everything sucks and blah blah blah.

I'm starting to get into a sprint with my Detective novel, and I love it so. It's so goddamn weird. I can't wait to hear some people's reactions to it... Also I really want to get back onto Eating the Ram's Head and Fig Leaf and having a first draft I can start editing for the send off to the publishers that will hate it. It's just such a monster. So much going on. Don't ever be thinking I'm giving up on this thing. She's gonna see the light of day if its the last thing I do.

I'm also starting a-writing a massive analysis on the Barenaked Ladies Anthology that I'm naming Buck Naked, after their first little independent tape release. This one's been a dream project of mine for a while, trying to toe the line of that ever unpopular opinion of mine: "The band that did the 'I just made you say underwear' song wrote some of the best music ever." I'll be damned if they're forgotten or just go down as that chickity china the chinese chicken band with a couple one hit wonders (oxymoron?) while the thousands of artists a million levels beneath them are remembered and praised in Rolling Stone as the best songs of the same era BNL were making music. It'd really be against the odds for me to be a part of that, the likelihood of this reaching paperback form being slim, but you don't always write for publication. If I did half of the stuff I wrote wouldn't exist and I'd be a much worse writer on account of it.

Speaking of: I'm going to be continuing my Max on Musics dealio. Just as a joke, I gave it album art and a title: "PSYDUCK AND ME" for all the songs I cover in my little fake album. I've got plenty of music I'm thinking about doing and not just Barenaked Ladies songs too! Here's a link to my first Max on Musics, wherein I sing and write an analysis of the song I sing, in case you haven't checked it out yet and want to know what I'm tawkin about:

http://journalswilson.blogspot.com/2011/10/i-can-i-will-i-do-max-on-musics.html

The five year anniversary of the death of one of my favorite musicians is coming up in December, and I hope do an epic Max on Musics of his songs and write about them and him in general as a memorial type thing. His name was Logan Whitehurst. He was and continues to definitely be among the best of the best in the Geek Rock genre, and died of brain cancer in 2006 when he was 29. He was just really goddamn good, with music ranging from silly little songs about a lizard and fish escaping a pet store and noodles dueling to the death, to deep introspections on non-existance, working a dead end job that drives you crazy, saying goodbye to music because it can't earn you a living, and saying goodbye to living itself. And keep in mind that all of the death stuff and every song I'm referencing was way before he was even diagnosed with cancer. His stuff just varied that much just because that was the kind of guy he was; not stuck in any sort of mold, just writing and performing great music.

He's one of those very rare artists that can make you both laugh your ass of and seriously cry like a goddamn baby. I can't think of any other artist anything like him, and hopefully I can pay fair tribute to him on here in the upcoming month. Either way, he's well worth checking out, and most of his music is free on his website. If you're interested, I'd suggest first looking at How Does an Electrostatic Motor Work? onward to Earth is Big and his unreleased stuff, and if you don't mind spending ten bucks on itunes, buying Logan's magnum opus, Goodbye My 4-Track:

http://www.juniorscienceclub.com/loganarchive/

(Archive of most of his work, compiled by the great Jason Steele)

http://itunes.apple.com/us/album/good-bye-my-4-track/id97302059

(Goodbye My 4-Track)

Sew. I hope to be doing that soon. I'm thinking of posting some excerpts from Detective Antipathy, and maybe some finished bits from Ayn and I after she's all drafty. Maybe it's time for me to do an update on all my various projects, like I did in one of my first posts... Also I found this thing on my seat in my English 101 class that I'm writing about. 50 bonus gets for the lucky lad or lady that guesses what that is.

COMING SOON:

The Fetishizing of the Founding Fathers

(And not in the good way, like George Washington rule34, that's awesome.)

I've seen one too many conservative politicians and crotchety old assholes in tri-cornery hats talking about the founding fathers in a fashion that suggests that they have even the slightest understanding of these people's lives and ideas, American History, or the basic logic given by Odin to every creature on Earth above that of an armadillo with its head run over.

Max on Musics Ideas

This was something I've been thinking about lately for a regular project I could work on here. I'm really obsessive about some things, and I spend a lot of time picking things apart, movies, tv shows, books, video games, arguments and ideas, etc., but one of the major ones is music. It's safe to say music is a big part of everyone's life, and I'm not hanging out with the exceptions like the . I've been the lead singer in a few bands, all with hilarious names, and I've played piano and the acoustic lobster since before I could walk. But what I really love about music, especially pop music, is how it has developed as an art form in a very specific way that no other has. Sticking with people.

The entire art form has relied heavily on honing catchy hooks, phrases, licks, themes, etc., to become a part of the listener for quite some time now; that really you can't be a successful artist (not entrepreneur of music like products) without mastering these creative abilities. It's truly an amazing feat to create something that becomes a part of people, but if the artist can make their little ditty not only stick with them, but make them think and feel complicated shit way after they've last listened to it, in my opinion, they have reached a level of personal connection with someone that they haven't even met, that they probably couldn't reach even if they had.

Had enough of my fucking paper on music as an art form? I'll tell you when you've had enough, but back to my original idea. What I'm planning on doing is just analyzing songs every once in a while, mainly focusing on the lyrics as a piece of fine writing (that's kind of my thing), but also touching on analyzations of the musics as it's just as important in understanding the whole picture, I believe. On top of all that, I'll perform the songs I analyze and link them at the top of the article sos you can listen to it before or while you read and I don't have to worry about youtube links expiring or anything.

So....Until then, expect more writing updates soon, an updated catalogue of my works in progress, a link every once in a while updating International Coffee Day, and this new musical feature. Until then. Keep your eyes on the prize and don't falter in the face of adversity. Endeavor to perceiver. Exterminate them all. A boy's best friend is his mother.

-Maxwell Wilson esq.

INTERNATIONAL COFFEE DAY ON THE DRUNK DUCK

http://www.drunkduck.com/THE_INTERNATIONAL_COFFEE_DAY_SAGA

That's right! Thine eyes in fact do not deceive you, my silly comic is now on the famed webcomic-webzone: 'drunkduck.com', and in much higher resolution than EVER SEEN BEFORE! It's like the time fish is swimming right in your face! Cuddling on your lap for a few moments before taking a sip of your pepsi and swimming back into the story to spout of some more of his famous catch phrases!

As of noonish saturday, it's just got all of the old ones you've all seen already, but soon it'll have some new pages to peruse, and I'll be updating it with regularity on the side of updating this blog with regularity.

A Myriad of Stuff: International Coffee Day Continuation and Detective Antipathy

Sooo

Today I realized I have 7 International Coffee day pages with more coming on the way, so I'll post those whenever I get around to shrinking them and putting them in my computer.

I'm thinking about making it a regular thing on someplace like the Drunk Duck or start a new blog, so I can just put a link on here or facebook for you folks that want to follow it. So I'd have a streamlined system going on, Journals Wilson for writing, (insert wherever ICD is going) for drawrings, and post a link on facebook whenever there's anything new on either so people can keep up.

I've been writing some stuff for Detective Antipathy lately, which is now titled: 'Detective Antipathy: A True Love Story by Max Wilson', sort of as a misdirect while pointing out a couple important themes. I dig the 'Love Story' sub-line because it sets it up expectations of perhaps being a romance or at least have two main characters in love, when....well...let's just say throw expectations out the window. This is going to be a weird one. Like. A pulp magazine and a bad dream had a baby and it wants to eat your feet. It's such a blast to write; so much experimentation.

A lot of the stuff I've been working on is grounded in the fight of insanity vs. reason. Most of the time it's a character conflict, but that is a lot less fun to write than when it's the overarching theme as in Detective Antipathy, focusing more on the internalization of that struggle and less on I said they saids. Those are fun too, they just take a lot more walking outside my head and crafting dialogue between at least two people, while Detective Antipathy is more my territory; somebody spilling their guts.

Updates coming when they do. Thank you for reading, my pungent friends.

interlude

You know that warm feeling you get when you never have to talk to someone ever again? Goddamnit I love that. You sit back and your mind goes to thoughts about someone you used to have to deal with and then you realize that you never have to again. Goddamn. It's like a million tiny candy corns in my brain are singing me ballads whilst they melt and coat my cerebral cortex with a thick candy shell of deliciousness that no assholes can get through.

Just something I was thinking about today that made me smile as I cuddled into my bed tonight with toasty sheets straight out of the dryer. I don't know why, but this week was a bit of a downer for me. I'm getting used to being alone a lot, most of my day is me alone, reading and writing and school stuff and the like. High school ending separated me from the couple close friends I had, and that sucks, but there's always an up side. In this case; it's the introvert inside of me having a warm, anti-social epiphany that there are more than a few assholes I've had to put up with in this last year alone that I don't ever have to speak to again and will not, and that little control I have over my life and happiness really makes up for a lot.

I have several more pages almost ready to post from the new, sexed up International Coffee Day, so get ready to skip that if you don't like that. I have a couple things I'm writing right now to post up here as well later. This little thing I wrote on pulp, this analysis of Maggy from Binding of Isaac that I'm working on....other stuff? Yeah. Real writing stuff. If anybody out there wants to drop me an email or a comment and ask me to write about something I'll probably do it. Seriously, that'd be pretty Louise Brooks.

COMING SOON:

From about my sophomore year in high school to now,I've been doodling a surreal comic in a crumpled up notebook that I just shared with my friends every once in a while, and continue working at today. A few friends of mine wanted me to send it to them or post it on facebook or something, but I never got around to it. After a while it just sort of became the backlog of this site, just to post when I don't have anything else or am too busy. So tomorrow I'll post the entire thing with translations and commentary and such.

I've decided I'm probably just going to archive Lorem Ipsum, put bits and pieces up here if I ever feel around to it. It's up to 50 some pages right now in its unedited form, and looking over it, I'm pretty sure I don't want anyone to read it until I can sew a narrative thread, add fictional elements, change names and so on, or just until I'm dead. There's stuff in it I'm really, really done with and don't deserve a single second more of my time or thoughts. But it represents an important portion of my life where I grew up so much, and I don't want to lose that, so I held onto it and processed it and learned from it by thinking deeply and writing about it all.

Most of the people in it that I write about, probably 1/2 of the 10 or so characters are truly horrible human beings that don't deserve to be recognized in any fashion, let alone analyzed in the way that I did in this project...it makes me feel bad that I'm almost doing them a service, giving them attention, letting them know they got to me, let them know that they had an impact at all, no matter how negative; that is way more than they deserve from anyone and it fills me with conflict about the whole situation. It never stopped me from actually writing, and I'm never going to stop writing about people who have an impact on me, but now that I'm thinking of publication and letting an aspect of my life that has always been intensely personal be sent out into the world and possibly get a certain degree of attention, it makes me think of everything from a new perspective. I'll probably write about it more at some point, but as of now that's where I'm leaning.

Tune in tomorrow for the thing I talked about before that I'll give a title to when I feel like it/get around to it!

Lorem Ipsum and Stuff

Some stuff has happened that made Lorem Ipsum a lot closer to being done. I don't know what I'm going to do with it. It's incredibly personal and there's themes of irrationality, hatred, pain, rage, manipulation of the truth, selfishness, emotional and mental abuse, and being a witness and subject of all of the above. All of that's been a large part of my life for the past year, and learning from all of it and growing up while keeping the product as far from 'suburban coming of age angst' as possible has been a large part of the experience of writing Lorem Ipsum. I don't know if I'd want it published or have it be that thing I have on the backlog that maybe some people would be interested in reading if they've read my other stuff. There are some people I would like to read it, just because, and hear what they have to say about it. I think I'll just have it archived. I'll post something about it when I'm done, done.

Near futurewise, I have a thing I wrote about my love for pulp books, and I still have drawings and stuff I'll post at some point. I'll get around to all of that soon.

Things I'm Working On This Exact Moment & Their Progress

Ayn and I:

I've been rapid-fire writing this since I've started, and I'm about at the point of getting it all arranged and edited, as I wrote it out of order on the final doc, the rough doc and my journal. It's looking like this will be my first non-short story finalized and set out for publication.

Detective Antipathy:

I don't want to ruin this, because I've been changing this a lot since I started writing it my sophomore year and I've only started the shape it's taking now recently. It's really fun to write. A lot of experimentation and delicious insanity dripping imagery.

Eating the Ram's Head and Fig Leaf:

This one here's my baby. I started writing it for my senior thesis last year, with the idea that I'd be able to have a finished novella by the due date of the project. It wasn't long before I knew this was more than a four-weeker. Even when it's not the top priority, I'm constantly thinking about it and taking notes and continuously cracking away at it underneath everything else.

Back of My Mind & Misc. Other Stuff:

Mule: Sequel to Eating the Ram's Head and Fig Leaf

Lorem Ipsum: Collection of journals.

I've also got several letters I'm writing. A couple to friends that'll just go in my archive. One to the Grandview theater about a shadow-casting show I saw that might go up here.

Two more days 'till college. That might slow down things here. If it does, I've got some things to keep posting in the mean time, drawings and comics I made throughout high school and the like, perhaps some old papers? Wait and see, next time: on Lt. Meatface the Dream Warrior of the Cosmos!!

HasieB and Me

I've been busy with college starting and stuff, but here's a little nugget to tide all of you over until I post next: A delightful interaction in the coments between an individual identified only by the name: "Hasebronk" and myself. It included a tidbit I wrote that might be included in my book, about Ayn Rand's life, and of course, more Ayn Rand bitching. BUT JUST YOU WAIT. Some day you'll be able to have to get up and go to the bookstore to hear me waxing poetic on my hatred for this woman. If indeed anyone would publish it in light of that it could very well be a libel suit from the Rand estate sleeping between two covers.

BUT I DIGRESS:

HasieB said...

i miss you. i have a student this year who thinks ayn rand's ideas were right on--although he will admit she was a nut job. and it doesn't matter that she spent the end of her life suckling the system. uggggh!

September 13, 2011 7:19 AM

Max Wilson said...

Ugh. Yeah. This person is right on the ball, even though her philosophy precludes reality, she's a hypocrite and an undiagnosed sociopath (taking her philosophy at its word) who wrote about how much she loved a serial killer who kidnapped and killed a little girl and cut her body in half and threw her organs around in public while laughing because he had:
"A wonderful, free, light consciousness" born of the utter absence of any understanding of "the necessity, meaning, or importance of other people."
Yeah, she's just a little 'out there', but I think at its core, her philosophy is congruent with reality :P (even though it denies the importance of reality and how actions effect the real world)

"She plopped on the ground of mother Russia from betwixt her mother’s hairy thighs a selfish girl who thought too much of herself...and she was buried in the dirt of the massive marketplace for ideas (even bad ones), a mean, selfish hag who devoted her life to making that selfish little girl back in Russia feel like she was never wrong about being greedy and only interested in her self. No matter what it took."
-Maxwell Wilson esq.

...

I miss you too! I'll definitely visit CS this year to check up on you guys :)

-and scene.

I am writing so much, oh my god

I'll post something after this, but I have been writing so much on my Ayn Rand deal, that these alien brain slugs came into my room to eat my brain, but they didn't want to because there wasn't anything useful in my head except stuff on some chick who died 30 years ago. And I'm all like: "Wait, Mr. Alien Brain Slug! I've got other stuff in here, come back!" And then I realized that I was trying to convince an alien brain slug to eat my brains LOL MLIA ROFL

Current Title:

Ayn and I

Or:

Irrational: The Root of All Evil

Or:

Ayn Rand Was a Mean, Stupid Hypocrite Who Spent Her Life Dry of Empathy For the Plight of Others, Saying Mean, Stupid Things That Everyone Should Stop Taking Seriously

COMING SOON!

Irrational: The Root of all Evil, or: Ayn Rand Was a Mean, Stupid Hypocrite Who Said Mean, Stupid Things That Everyone Should Have Stopped Taking Seriously Long Ago

PART ONE:

An Assorted Collection of Ayn Rand Quotes To Get Us Started,

or:

If Anything, Let The Words of This Chapter Hit The Ears Of Every Objectivist Who Understandably Have Not Looked Deep Enough Into Her Long, Unlettered, Boring Books Filled With Unjustified, Absolutist Statements To Truly Understand and Analyze What She Was Saying, AND ESPECIALLY THE OBJECTIVISTS THAT HAVE.

PART TWO:

The Woman Himself,

or:

AYN RAND IS A HYPOCRITE AND NOT BECAUSE SHE TOOK SOCIAL SECURITY

EPILOGUE:

Where I'm Coming From,

or:

Selfishness is Not a Virtue, Altruism is Not a Vice.

Poop.

Sorry for lack of posts as of late :(

I have no reasons other than life stuff getting in the way, and the stuff I've been writing for the last couple weeks being ill-suited for posting here. In addition to writing on the grander scale of shit I'm working on, I plan to just sit here and write for a bit once a week just to keep sharp, and to have something for my friends and family that read this blog, to read :)

I'm writing a thing on Ayn Rand right now. Just a response to major quotes and philosophies in order to satiate my hunger for, seriously, writing a 9,000 page book called Ayn Rand Was A Stupid Person. For those of you who don't know, the book I'm writing right now that I started this year, Eating the Ram's Head and Fig Leaf, is generally about the virtue I see in Humanity, and a great deal of it is spent on what I see as antivirtues existing in Humanity, notably personified in a character based on Ayn Rand and her "Virtue of Selfishness" horseshit that pervades humanity to this day, not to say that it's genesis was when Ayn Rand opened her ugly, misshapen face to add fake-philisophical depth to greed...I'm getting ahead of myself, and I really dig that line and am figuring out where to squish it into the thing I'm working on, so I'm going to start stopping...

BIG PICTURE:

Because I can't just be putting whole chapters of my books up here, and because some stuff is just the start of something bigger that unless you're in my head and see that it's leading up to something you probably won't enjoy it in all it's unlettered glory, aside from excerpts and the like, I'm going to be doing a lot more essays of things I have to write about, and do, just don't post....but...post them with regularity.

Like Rick Perry says something, Michelle Bachmann says something, Al Sharpton says something, Penn Jillette says something, Ayn Rand says something before she takes her rightful place decomposing underground, or I read, play, watch, or listen to a piece of art that I feel I should analyze, or think of a topic to cover, I'll write about it here....in addition to writing about writing, and writing about my books and putting excerpts from them and writing about those, along with maybe a short story here and there, that's what it will take to keep posting here with regularity, so I hope you all enjoy :)

It really does mean the world to me that any of you out there read this, and it really is nice when some of you talk to me in the real world or otherwise about this stuff. Thank you all for whatever your contribution to this is, even if it's just reading, it's more than I could ever ask for.

That's enough love for now. Tune in in just a bit for, believe it or not, much more Ayn Rand hatred.

Lorem Ipsum

Yeah, I'm not one for following shit to the t, but I am going to be posting something on here at least once a week. I write a lot more than just once a week or so, but some stuff, believe it or not, is not quality enough for being posted here. I'm writing a quick thing right now that is essentially a lot easier of a project to work on constantly than Ram's Head, which I still am writing like crazy for anyway. It just makes me feel good to have a polished chapter that I'm proud of that doesn't make me feel as crazy and anxious as Ram's Head, mostly because of the subject matter.

Last night I got a rough of the first chapter, it's called Lorem Ipsum, and said first chapter will be up here momentarily. It's pretty much fictionalized me journaling, sort of like the Bob Evans thing, only less straight forward puking, more polished and less angst. I'm actually thinking about fucking around with the Bob Evans thing, plopping side characters into it and cleaning it up to make it fit in, just because I love the whole situation so much. It's probably a desk drawer piece, but it'll be about me and this weird place I'm in right now with my whole world shifting. My grandparents, parents and myself adjusting to entering a new stage of life respectively, and me being in summer doing essentially nothing and having no responsibilities before I enter this stage and observing it all like squinting into the lights of an oncoming train.

I have a thing on Ram's Head too that I'm going to put here, some excerpts I'm working on, and also in between bigger stuff I'm thinking of posting side stuff, like some shit I did during school, everything from little comics I did and essays and stuff. Thanks to everyone for reading, I'll be getting to all of that soon.