GOODNIGHT, FUCKERS #946: THIS! VERY! DAY!

 Today has been a very unusual day for me. I've felt off in everything I did except, oddly, my job. That went pretty well. It almost always does on a Monday, and I kicked ass on that front. But my brain, which runs super fast despite my desire for it to go much, much slower, kept hitting speed bumps today. I'm kind of surprised it didn't derail my day.

And almost all of this stuff is speech. I have a script in my head for every occasion. Except I kept getting hung up on words that I knew backwards, forwards, maybe not inside out but what the hell why not? I lost confidence in the things I was saying, which is a huge mistake if you're in sales.

And then there was this nearly overwhelming sensation that I'm going deaf. You know how when it gets dead silent you can actually hear how deafeningly loud silence is? I've been getting that today. I ran a finger through each ear, and there's no blockage. I just did a deep cleaning not too long ago (a necessary thing, as my body produces an insane amount of ear wax). My ears *do* feel kind of numb, though.

Or maybe I'm finally cracking. I've had a crack up in the works, anyway. Might as well get it over with, preferably without the psych ward this time. Would it be better to pretend to lose my mind for a little while than to wait for it to happen naturally? It would probably be waaaaaaay worse the latter way.

It would be nice to wake up without any fucking pain or problems. Just once.

All right, Tuesday. The golfball is in your garden hose. Let's get to work on the best possible results . . .

Oh! Also, today is the 39th anniversary of me writing my first story. Mom made me sign and date it so I'd always know. I thought that was weird at the time, but I'm now glad I did. Although I'm not sure why she told me to do that. Did she somehow know even back then? Or is this something all moms do, and if their kid turns out to be a writer, hey, that's a gamble that pays off? Holy shit, is that why I liked dinosaurs so much? She was trying to push me into paleontology?!?!?!?!!?! What other seeds did she plant?!?!?!?! Dark Shadows?!?!?!?! SHE PUT THAT THERE, T . . . well, actually, I really enjoyed Dark Shadows. I've seen all things Dark Shadows EXCEPT for the Tim Burton movie, which I shall never see.

Wow. Look at this mess. This is kinda what Goodnight, Fuckers looked like back when I was writing these things in a blacked out drunken state. I swear I didn't drink any booze! Why? Do you got some?

Ahhhhhhhhh. I swear I meant to write about something here tonight. I think I'm finally bored with my own misery. Has that finally happened? Have I lived long enough to witness this day? This? Very? Day?

That's heavy, Doc.

GOODNIGHT, FUCKERS #283: MY GARDEN SURPRISES

I think I've said it before, but my backyard always has a surprise for me. The couple who lived here before me cultivated a garden in the backyard. I have done next to zero work back there, and every spring I get a surprise. Usually it's a single stalk of corn, and it always grows in a different place back there.


This year, it's a tree.


On Sunday, there was nothing but blooming plants and flowers in my backyard. It's been raining ever since, and it will continue through to Friday. And then I took out the trash tonight and saw, shockingly, that there was a tall plant near my separate garage. The stem is made of bark. Maybe, just maybe, it's a lilac bush. I have one back there that is so big it would qualify as a tree. But this new growth is blooming up top, and it doesn't look like lilac.


How is it possible that a tree is suddenly growing in my backyard? Nothing has been planted back there in the more than 15 years I've lived here.


This garden never ceases to surprise me.

GOODNIGHT, FUCKERS #167: IT NEVER CEASES TO SURPRISE ME

Tonight I went out to dinner with a very good friend of mine, and she told me something that threw me for a loop. I've heard it often enough, but it never ceases to surprise me.


We were talking about someone we used to work with. She said that this person in question had to go out to her car late at night after work, and she wanted an escort because the parking lot could be scary sometimes. My friend said I was leaving at the same time and said that I could be her escort, but the coworker in question reacted poorly to the suggestion. She said that she was scared of me.


My friend defended me, but the coworker wouldn't have it any other way. This happened years and years and years ago, but hearing it tonight surprised me.


Every once in a while I hear stories about how some people are (or were) afraid of me, and it always baffles me. OK, so I'm a tall guy. I'm pretty large, and not all of it is fat. Sometimes I'm bearded. I wear black often, in particular my black trench coat for winter days. I guess if you saw me on the street, you might mistakenly think I was a badass or something.


But the coworker in question? I was friends with her brother for many years. She should have known better.


I'm a pussycat. I live my life the Maverick way. If I can avoid physical confrontation, I will. I'm not a tough guy, and I don't pretend to be. I just don't get it.


Not too long ago, a friend of mine told me her boyfriend was terrified of me. I asked why, and she said it was due to my sheer size. I'm taller than average, but I'm not a giant. When I'm working out I have decent body shape, but it is never anything crazy like a WWE guy. Apparently I'm intimidating without even trying.


I don't get it, and I kinda want it to stop. I don't want anyone to fear me. I'm almost a pacifist. The only thing that prevents me from being one is the fact that I will fight back if someone fucks with me. I'm not talking about tough words, by the way. I mean if someone physically threatens me, I will fight back. You can call me whatever the fuck you want to, and I'll take it. Who gives a fuck what you think of me? I have no interest in threatening anyone. I want to get along with everyone. Hate and violence takes a lot of effort, and I don't want to go through the bother. Say what you will. I don't care. But physically threaten me or my loved ones? That's a different story.


So what the fuck? I hope none of you reading this finds me scary. If you do, what can I do to put you at ease? Sure, I can be an angry guy, but I've never seriously threatened anyone in my life. I just don't have it in me. What gives?

GOODNIGHT, FUCKERS #121: AN UNSETTLING TREND

I've noticed an unsettling trend, and I hope they're just two glitches in the Matrix, but I have, indeed, noticed that this happened twice in a row, and it bothers me. The last two times a magazine published my work, payment and all, they didn't do a single fucking thing to promote themselves. I won't mention who they are, even though you can all figure it out, because that's not why I'm climbing up onto my soapbox tonight.


I was the editor and publisher of TABARD INN for a few years, and you'd better fucking believe that the first thing I did after the new issue was out was to promote the fuckers. Whenever one of my books come out, I let everyone know about it. Whenever I'm in someone else's publication, I make sure to notify the world (or at least whoever listens to me).


But the last two magazines didn't. They have websites, and I've been checking them regularly. Neither of these publications updated their own sites. It's almost like they're trying to sabotage themselves.


In one case, I understand. It was their last issue. Why would they care about promoting it? Except . . . well, it CAN make them money. There were a couple of big names in it. In fact, this issue published the last known "new" story by CJ Henderson, who recently passed away. Why would you not want people knowing about it?


But in the case of the other? There is no excuse. The website should have been updated the very moment the new issue came out.


I have three copies of the former. I have one copy of the latter. Both are amazing issues. But . . . I'm the only one I know who has copies of them. It would be kind of nice if I had some links to throw up so the rest of you can have a chance at reading these things. I'm extremely proud of both, the first because it took so long to break the market, and the second because it's one of the most fucked up stories I've ever written.


What the fuck? I hope this isn't a continuing trend. One of the publishers put up copies of their magazine on eBay, but come on. Can we not at least get them up on Amazon? If you don't want to link to Amazon, fine, but maybe, JUST MAYBE, these issues could sell a lot better in that market?


I was paid for both stories. I have nothing to gain financially by getting these issues posted at least somewhere where they can get some attention. I just . . . fuck. I just want people to read the fucking things. I'd trade in both paychecks just to know that my stories were getting placed in front of SOMEONE's eyes.


For all I know, in both cases, the only people who have read them are the other writers in these magazines. That's part of a big problem in the industry these days--that the only people reading you are other writers and not regular readers--but I don't want to go into that tonight.


I just want those stories to be read. Is that too much to ask?