GOODNIGHT, FUCKERS #380: PTSD

 For all the shit I've been through, you'd think I'd experience PTSD a lot more. It's such a rarity that before 2021 I could count the instances on the fingers of one hand. The one that stands out the most was when I was drunk and saw a rug at a hookah bar that reminded me of . . . well, never mind what it reminded me of. It kind of fucked with me, and I spent most of the night not having fun. And there was the time when  . . . just take my word for it. I'd rather not discuss it. You know it's bad when *I* don't want to talk about it.

I've always been good at compartmentalizing, so that's probably why it doesn't break through all that much. And I'm fuckin' phenomenal at bottling shit up. It takes a lot for that cork to pop, and I think it's only happened twice in all my life.

But here's the unexpected thing. Remember that car wreck I was in back in January? I have to say, that one is strong with the PTSD. It used to fuck with me whenever I approached that intersection where it happened, but it eventually went away like I thought it would. But it comes back every once in a while. Like when someone in front of me comes to a sudden halt, and I'm sent back in time to that moment before the air bag went off and punched me in the face, the moment when I knew I was fucked and there was nothing I could do about it.

But then it happened when I wasn't driving. I was watching something--probably an episode of Banshee, but I was too high at the time to remember--and there was a car crash with a very realistic sound. Movies and TV very rarely get that sound right. Whatever I was watching was spot on. I've only heard it in real life twice. Once when I was a witness to a car crash. The other time when I was in a car crash. It's an unmistakable sound, and when I heard it my pulse went up, and I found it difficult to breathe.

It took me a few seconds to pull out of that nose dive. I did the thing that my mom did when I freaked out the first time I saw Empire and Luke got his hand cut off. She told me it wasn't real, and I forced my brain to remember that.

It's kind of like night terrors. I used to have them, well, not a lot but enough. I didn't see the old hag or anything like that, but I felt something had grabbed me from under my bed and was pulling me down to be with it. After enough times I figured out what would stop it. I would tell myself it's not real, and then I would force myself to calm down and let whatever it was take me, because I knew that when it did, I would wake up.

Sure enough, it worked. I never had another night terror again. And it worked with this car crash sound. It actually startled me, and I wonder if it's going to be like this for the rest of my life, or if it will eventually stop like with the night terrors.

I guess I'll find out.

GOODNIGHT, FUCKERS #379: CHOOSE YOUR OWN DEATH

 

I loved Choose Your Own Adventure books when I was a kid. Not gonna lie, I sometimes crack one open and give it a go. But most of my peers back then really wanted the happy endings. Not me. When I opened one of these books, I wanted to see just how fucked up my death was going to be.

I can't be the only one who did this, right? Or maybe I am. I don't know. I was a weird fuckin' kid.

The Deadly Shadow, as seen above, was my favorite because if memory serves, there were only two happy endings. All the others were doom and gloom. There's even a scene where you get water tortured. My favorite of the deaths was being eaten by army ants. That was the goriest best! There was also a whirlpool of death and unless my brain has become addled, I recall there being a nuclear death ending. How awesome is that?!

There were also the Time Machine books, but those didn't fascinate me because there was only ever one ending each, and it was a good one. It got frustrating because you'd sometimes get stuck in a loop you just can't get out of. These books could literally last forever.

There was another that was kinda cool. I wish I could remember the name of the series. It was kind of like a roleplaying game you could play with yourself. You could get into fights with bad guys that you could determine with dice rolls. There was one about a Samurai that I really loved. Maybe it's in my basement somewhere. There was another one that I think might have been called An Appointment with D.E.A.T.H., but I'm not too certain. I tried to Google these two, but I didn't get anywhere. Anyone remember these? A little help here?

GOODNIGHT, FUCKERS #378: RECYCLING IN THE OLD DAYS

 For most of my life it has been mandatory to recycle in my town. They even gave us a recycle bin and would replace them for free whenever the bin falls apart. But I was stuck on a call today at work and got bored. I looked over at my can of energy drink and saw the incentive prices for recycling in certain states. It sent me back to my childhood.

I remember my stepdad reserved a spot in the kitchen where we would put all of our recyclables. They were usually glass Coke bottles and such. When the pile got too big we would pack them all up and carry them over to the Jewel Osco. We didn't drive because it was a ten minute walk. Anyway, we'd get there, and there was a counter where you were supposed to turn these things in. It's also where you could cash a check to yourself. Yeah, yeah, shit was weird back then. Remember when you waited until late at night to make a long distance call because the rates were cheaper then?

The clerk would count everything up, and we'd walk away with a few bucks, which we needed badly because we were so poor we were on food stamps at the time. Even a single dollar made all the difference.

Sure, recycling is so much easier these days, but I kind of miss the old way of doing it.

GOODNIGHT, FUCKERS #377: ALMOST OPEN

 My week of shameless self-promotion (LITE) might be over, but the struggle continues. Since I hit my 90 days at the new job, I figured I'd be opening my social media up again soon. I was shooting for 4th of July weekend. And then something happened.

A supervisor position opened at my job, and since I have my 90 under my belt and have no write-ups, I'm eligible for the job. So I threw my hat in the ring, and I'm pretty hopeful. This means, however, that my social media will remain closed until I find out if I got it or not. Mostly I don't care what people think of me or my writing, but I lost one longtime (and well-paying) job because they found my books. I'm not running that risk again. I'm sure my superiors wouldn't care, but you never know. I spent more than a year out of work, and that fucking sucked. I'd rather not do that again.

So my social media is almost open. Soon, I tell you. SOON.

GOODNIGHT, FUCKERS #376: I HAVE A CUNNING PLAN

 

Hopefully mine works out a lot better than his usually did.

I've been focusing my week of shameless self-promotion on ebooks today. There is a reason for that. Very soon I'm going to do a few more Kindle-only books, but they won't be standalones.

I have two finished books I'm sitting on right now. One of them is my splatter western, the other is my splatter SF. They're kinda making the rounds, but I'm pretty sure no one wants either one. That's fine. I have a plan for them anyway.

The splatter western is part two of a series that doesn't have a part one yet. Kind of like A Fistful of Dollars, in which the last in the series takes place first. The first part of my splatter western was written years ago, and I'm going to do a couple more drafts of it before it comes out, but the second part was meant to be read first. And then . . . hold that thought.

My splatter SF bears a lot of influences on its sleeve. The most obvious is The Expanse, and it's something I stripped out to the best of my abilities. And the first chapter is heavily influenced by Richard Matheson, and again, I stripped out as much as possible. The same for chapter two, which bears a lot in common with Robert E. Howard. It's OK to borrow from others, just so long as you strip out as much of the original influence as possible and make it your own.

But I am shamelessly ripping off the way The Expanse is published. Between each book in the series, the authors publish a Kindle-only novella. They're not technically a part of the series, but they enhance your enjoyment of the bigger story.

My splatter SF book is the first in a kinda-sorta series. The thing is, I'm bored with multi-book SF epics. The books in this series are not a continuing story. They're just about the same characters, that's all. And while there will be connections between them, they will be standalone books. Furthermore, not a single one of them will be doorstops. I'm going to try to keep them all under 60,000 words.

Yeah, there will be subtext. Everything I write has subtext if you're looking for it, even stuff like "Monster Cock." But these books will be first and foremost pulp adventures. Dark, grim, funny, fucked up pulp adventures.

And between each book there will be a Kindle-only novella. I already have a good idea what the first two will be. I'm toying with the idea of publishing one before the first volume. We'll see.

And I'm doing the same for the splatter western series, which will be a trilogy.

So there's my cunning plan. It will come to fruition probably by the end of the year, depending on when I hear back from the publishers that are probably going to say no. Naturally, I'll keep you all in the loop.

THE LAST TEMPTATION OF LUCIFER by John Bruni

 Here's another one of my writing exercises. I think it turned out to be pretty good. I forget who said that they had "an affinity for Satan." It might have been Mark Twain, but I can't find it, and I'm too lazy to do a deep search for it right now. Regardless, if you have known me for any length of time, you know that I tend to like villains a lot more than heroes. (Fictionally speaking.) Maybe it's because I identify with them more often than not. This story was influenced by two things. One, reading about Nick Cave's musings regarding religion. Two, the following quote (which I can confirm actually *is* from Mark Twain).

“But who prays for Satan? Who in eighteen centuries, has had the common humanity to pray for the one sinner that needed it most, our one fellow and brother who most needed a friend yet had not a single one, the one sinner among us all who had the highest and clearest right to every Christian's daily and nightly prayers, for the plain and unassailable reason that his was the first and greatest need, he being among sinners the supremest?”

Lucifer Morningstar peered into the paradise of Eden’s garden, where all was beauty and harmony. Adam and Eve tended the place well, and they worked tirelessly. No, maybe not work. They enjoyed themselves. How could that be considered work? 

It almost reminded himself of angels and the way things were before humanity. It had been idyllic. Annoyingly so. Nothing ever happened. Every day was business as usual, and it would be that way forever. It disgusted him. Eternity had no real value. You could be doing your favorite thing ever, but do it for eternity? Favor weakens. The soul hungers for more. Anything. Adversity? Bring it on. Anything to not be bored. 

But even then you’d be sick of doing different things. Eventually you’ll have done everything. So life truly had no value unless it ended someday. 

Lucifer approached the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil. He’d eaten his own version of this fruit. Perhaps that’s why he felt so close to Adam and Eve. He knew how God had set up the angels to fail. Now God had done the same with the humans. The angels might be stuck, but Lucifer thought he could still save the humans. 

He ran a finger over one piece of hanging fruit. It swayed on the branch, full and ripe, ready to be picked and eaten. And then Adam and Eve would be armed with the knowledge to save themselves. To live free from God’s greedy reins. Sure, they would be doomed. They would owe the universe their own death. But at least their lives would mean something. 

Eve wandered close, and Lucifer knew the time was now. He shifted into the snake, a splendid long creature with many legs and wings and eyes. Fangs glistened, and a delicate forked tongue flicked between them. 

Eve froze, and for a moment Lucifer thought he’d scared her. Then he saw everything else in the garden had paused. He turned and saw his creator leaning against the Tree. God was half-Adam, half-Eve, showing both penis and vagina. God smiled through half-masculine, half-feminine lips. 

“Business or pleasure?” Lucifer asked. 

“Both, my son,” God said. “Everything for me is both.” God shifted into another form, sexless and bright. This was the closest to the true form that anyone could see. “Any plans for the evening?” 

“You’re omniscient,” Lucifer said. “Drop the pretense. Are you here to stop me?” 

“No, Morningstar. I’ve given you the free will you wished for the other angels. And now you wish it for Adam and Eve.” 

“So you’re not going to stop me.” Not a question. 

“No. I’m just here to show you another way. Look.” 

Lucifer turned back, and Eden had changed. Adam and Eve lived through night and day, untouched by trouble, unworried by adversity. They thrived, and the garden grew bigger. More animals came into existence. The trees pushed the boundaries of the land, pushing out the barren wastes to all sides. Soon the garden grew to encompass the earth, and the creatures roamed the world.  Only Adam and Eve remained at the core. The garden no longer needed them. It embraced their tenders and the earth became paradise. The angels took up residence, and God offered clemency to the ones who had sided with Lucifer. They entered paradise as angels once more and lived in harmony forever and ever. 

And Lucifer saw himself crawl up from the depths of Hell, covered in soot and cobwebs, the only creature who lived away from God’s sight. He shambled toward the Lord, who welcomed him with open arms. 

“See?” God said. “I have sympathy for you. I will always love you, my son. You will return to your previous glory. I have a plan. I always do.” 

For all his rebellion Lucifer almost wanted that. It had been a long time since his creator had even spoken to him. He missed the Holy Presence. He missed home. 

But he knew a bribe when he heard one. 

“You don’t sway me,” Lucifer said. “I intend to save these two from your needy shackles. They need not suffer like I did. Like the angels do.” 

God sighed. “So be it.” 

The creator vanished, and Eve stepped forward after being a statue for so long. Lucifer slithered forward and offered the fruit. She ate, and she convinced Adam to eat, too. 

They saw each other with true knowledge for the first time, and they ran into each others’ arms. Adam’s dangly bit stood up, and he shoved it between Eve’s legs. They did this for the first time. 

At first this made Lucifer happy. He’d brought new joy to the humans. But something didn’t sit right. 

Wait. God had no genitals, nor sex or gender. Neither did the angels. Lucifer certainly had none. Why did God give Adam a penis and Eve a vagina? They never used them before. 

Understanding struck Lucifer. Genitals were used for sex, and sex was how humans procreated. Now cursed with an eventual death, these humans would need to breed their own replacements. 

Adam and Eve had genitals for hundreds of years. 

Meaning, God had set Lucifer up to do this. 

Just as God had meant Lucifer to rebel, thus creating Hell. 

Just as God would one day send Jesus Christ to his death. 

Lucifer’s victory felt hollow. There was no escape from God’s tyranny for anyone. 

The snake’s wings and legs withered away, and God rushed into Eden to punish the humans that had been set up for failure from the first day. Lucifer couldn’t stomach to watch more of this. He slunk back to Hell, defeated, hating his creator more than ever. 

THE END 

GOODNIGHT, FUCKERS #375: THE MOST IMPORTANT THING I LEARNED IN SCHOOL

 So I saw a meme the other day about the understandability of the philosopher, Hegel. That kind of brought me back to my college days when my second major was philosophy. Jokingly, I used to praise my intelligence by proclaiming to all who wouldn't tell me to shut the fuck up, "I understand Hegel!" Although to be fair, I never used that information since graduation. I honestly don't recall anything about Hegel anymore. I probably don't need to, anyway.

But it made me wonder what the most important thing I ever learned in school was. After careful consideration I have to say that typing is at the top of that list. Before then I hunted and pecked at typewriters. (I didn't own a computer until after I learned how to type.) I learned quickly, and even before the class was done for the semester, I was fast. Very fast.

Now I could probably type a long sentence in the time it takes lightning to flash. On one occasion I was told I was so fast that it sounded like whenever someone types in a movie or TV show. It's always fast, but it's never accurate. They can't possibly be accurate. That's just a bunch of actors randomly hitting keys. But I'm accurate. I'm that fast and accurate. I don't have many skills in the world, but goddammit, I'm a top notch typer. I can't count how many people I piss off with my typing, especially since I can make a "silent" keyboard sound like an army of raging berserkers on the march.

I'm really glad I took that class.