BLOG.MIKEKOZLOWSKI.COM
BLOG.MIKEKOZLOWSKI.COM
Try to Remember This: The Memory Eater. Is that Ironic?
A while back, I submitted a story for a themed anthology. The concept for the anthology was a number of stories all centering around a device known as the Memory Eater. This device targets and destroys memories and that was, pretty much, the whole of the guidelines for the submission.
My story was selected for inclusion in the anthology (thank you, thank you very much) and is joining some 26 other stories in making up the book. I've only just received the first draft of the completed book (which, unfortunately, I am not at liberty to share) and have begun reading some of the other stories in it. Trust me, you'll want to pick up a copy when it becomes available.
And that brings me to the point...
The editor, while having a few different publishing options, has decided to manage the publishing duties and is doing so (to begin with) with the help of funding through Kickstarter (which is a very cool sort of thing where people can pledge money to fund various projects and, usually, get some benefit as a donor).
So, to help make the Memory Eater anthology a reality, I am asking that you go to the Kickstarter site and pledge a dollar or two or three or whatever you can. It's an excellent way to help authors and artists get their work out to the public, in a time when the publishing world is leaner than ever in promoting emerging talent.
And while your at the Kickstarter site (after, of course, you have pledged something to the Memory Eater project) you should have a look around and see what other cool projects are about, that you might want to help with or just be aware of.
Click the following to get there: Memory Eater Kickstarter Project
I will try to keep everyone informed on how it's going, through my FB and Twitter accounts. As of right now (with about four or five days under our belts, we are right around 1/4 funded. So far, so good.
Oh! And there will shortly be available some video trailers for the project, which I will get out to you. As a matter of fact, when I finish this post, I need to get on to writing a script for the trailer for my story.
In other news of a writerly sort, I have a story that I am writing...um...well...okay, to be honest I haven't actually started writing it yet but I am doing that first part of my writing process where I let the idea stew about in my mind and see what comes of it and massage it a bit and mold it and then let it spew out onto the screen in a vomit of wordsmithy (I'm at the mold and massage stage, preparing to vomit).
I'm also still working on the comic, though both Robert (the artist) and myself have been working on other projects and dealing with general life issues and have allowed the project to stall a bit. It's not dead, by any means, we've just had to adjust our timeline.
And in my personal life, I have taken a new job (the real one, that pays the bills and stuff) and have been acclimating to that, which has definitely taken a bit of time away from my writing but I think I'm leveling back out now.
And the job is going well and I like it and I don't have to travel out of town anymore so my general disposition is considerably better than it has been. Ironically, there is a guy at my new job who wears a Buffalo Bills hoodie everyday and I've threatened to burn it with him still wearing it because I've not yet gotten over of my loathing of Buffalo. And, Buffalo, I'm very sorry that I hate it you...I'm sure my feelings toward you will return to indifference soon enough and maybe even a bit of fond recollection (in the way that we reminisce about the good, old days that weren't really so good at all but seem humorous and pleasant in retrospect merely because the experience didn't kill us).
It's Easter weekend! As we all know, that's when the bunny rose from the dead and paid for our sins by bribing God with peanut butter filled chocolates, thereby ensuring our eternal salvation and poor dental health.
Or something like that.
No, really, I'm aware of the Easter story, good Catholic that I am and all (cough, cough...I most certainly am...cough, cough). Hope you all enjoy the holiday in whatever manner you choose to celebrate and, most importantly, hope that you find time to spend with your loved ones. And, if you don't care for the wonderful combination of chocolate and peanut butter, you may send all of your Reese's cups in my direction.
Okay! So, one more time, get over to the Kickstarter site for the Memory Eater and see what kind of cool shit you can get with your pledge. Kickstarter Memory Eater Project
Here's the illustration that accompanies my story, Do You Make House Calls? (which happens to be one that you can get the original print of, given you meet the pledge amout).
And, as a bonus, if you do donate (any amount at all) and end up with a copy of the book, I will gladly sign it for you and write some cool little flash fiction thing in the front cover or draw a little picture or some other cool thing. Granted, you'll need to get your copy of the book to me but, fuck, I can't do everything now, can I?
I'm off to write that trailer script now and to get ready for the holiday tomorrow; lots of family coming by.
Thanks, as always, for staying faithful,
Mike
My story was selected for inclusion in the anthology (thank you, thank you very much) and is joining some 26 other stories in making up the book. I've only just received the first draft of the completed book (which, unfortunately, I am not at liberty to share) and have begun reading some of the other stories in it. Trust me, you'll want to pick up a copy when it becomes available.
And that brings me to the point...
The editor, while having a few different publishing options, has decided to manage the publishing duties and is doing so (to begin with) with the help of funding through Kickstarter (which is a very cool sort of thing where people can pledge money to fund various projects and, usually, get some benefit as a donor).
So, to help make the Memory Eater anthology a reality, I am asking that you go to the Kickstarter site and pledge a dollar or two or three or whatever you can. It's an excellent way to help authors and artists get their work out to the public, in a time when the publishing world is leaner than ever in promoting emerging talent.
And while your at the Kickstarter site (after, of course, you have pledged something to the Memory Eater project) you should have a look around and see what other cool projects are about, that you might want to help with or just be aware of.
Click the following to get there: Memory Eater Kickstarter Project
I will try to keep everyone informed on how it's going, through my FB and Twitter accounts. As of right now (with about four or five days under our belts, we are right around 1/4 funded. So far, so good.
Oh! And there will shortly be available some video trailers for the project, which I will get out to you. As a matter of fact, when I finish this post, I need to get on to writing a script for the trailer for my story.
In other news of a writerly sort, I have a story that I am writing...um...well...okay, to be honest I haven't actually started writing it yet but I am doing that first part of my writing process where I let the idea stew about in my mind and see what comes of it and massage it a bit and mold it and then let it spew out onto the screen in a vomit of wordsmithy (I'm at the mold and massage stage, preparing to vomit).
I'm also still working on the comic, though both Robert (the artist) and myself have been working on other projects and dealing with general life issues and have allowed the project to stall a bit. It's not dead, by any means, we've just had to adjust our timeline.
And in my personal life, I have taken a new job (the real one, that pays the bills and stuff) and have been acclimating to that, which has definitely taken a bit of time away from my writing but I think I'm leveling back out now.
And the job is going well and I like it and I don't have to travel out of town anymore so my general disposition is considerably better than it has been. Ironically, there is a guy at my new job who wears a Buffalo Bills hoodie everyday and I've threatened to burn it with him still wearing it because I've not yet gotten over of my loathing of Buffalo. And, Buffalo, I'm very sorry that I hate it you...I'm sure my feelings toward you will return to indifference soon enough and maybe even a bit of fond recollection (in the way that we reminisce about the good, old days that weren't really so good at all but seem humorous and pleasant in retrospect merely because the experience didn't kill us).
It's Easter weekend! As we all know, that's when the bunny rose from the dead and paid for our sins by bribing God with peanut butter filled chocolates, thereby ensuring our eternal salvation and poor dental health.
Or something like that.
No, really, I'm aware of the Easter story, good Catholic that I am and all (cough, cough...I most certainly am...cough, cough). Hope you all enjoy the holiday in whatever manner you choose to celebrate and, most importantly, hope that you find time to spend with your loved ones. And, if you don't care for the wonderful combination of chocolate and peanut butter, you may send all of your Reese's cups in my direction.
Okay! So, one more time, get over to the Kickstarter site for the Memory Eater and see what kind of cool shit you can get with your pledge. Kickstarter Memory Eater Project
Here's the illustration that accompanies my story, Do You Make House Calls? (which happens to be one that you can get the original print of, given you meet the pledge amout).
And, as a bonus, if you do donate (any amount at all) and end up with a copy of the book, I will gladly sign it for you and write some cool little flash fiction thing in the front cover or draw a little picture or some other cool thing. Granted, you'll need to get your copy of the book to me but, fuck, I can't do everything now, can I?
I'm off to write that trailer script now and to get ready for the holiday tomorrow; lots of family coming by.
Thanks, as always, for staying faithful,
Mike
Of Writing, Working and Moving On.
Okay, I'll start with the writer stuff...
Those of you who follow my tweets and FB updates know that I have been working on a comic. The working title (which I am starting to like more and more as the story develops) is Angel of Death.
The story has guns, bounty hunters, cool cars, a healthy dose violence and gore, a pinch of blasphemy, a few moral musings (generally only alluded to for the reader to do with what they will) and, perhaps best of all, zombies (of a sort).
My only concern (the one that causes me doubts and a bit of tossing and turning in the wee hours) is that I sometimes fear that the entertainment world has been saturated with zombies, at this point. This story has been a glimmer of an idea for a couple of years; slowly developing in the creepy, dark recesses of my cranium. And quite a while back (again, my laziness keeps me from going back to achieve any sort of accurate time stamp) I wrote a post here that talked about catching the next big wave in horror fiction, which I suspected would be zombies. I worry that I may have waited too long.
But, worry and self-doubt are a couple of the hallmarks of the writing life. A good writer tends to be his own worst critic (a bad writer is usually optimistically delusional about his story and/or abilities). When I take an honest look at my story, I continue to think it is very different (or at least different enough) from any zombie-related thing I've seen thus far. So, I go forward. Besides, if I quit now I'd have wasted a good amount of time an effort and, more importantly, I would believe that I let a good thing die.
So far, I have the first script written and sent off to the artist (some of you may know that I am not an entirely shabby artist in my own right, but I've never felt I was very good at the comic work and I certainly don't feel I am as talented as the person I've been able to get on board with this thing). I also have a rough outline of the first arc completed and am working through the cleaner, more detailed outline that I will need for submitting. I have a character file going and a handful of the primary characters fully developed (something else that will be going with the submission) and I am starting work on the script for issue two.
Right! With that out of the way, let's get personal.
Since I am not yet making a living off of my writing (but getting closer and closer) I continue to have a "real" job. Regular visitors here will know that I have been working out of state for the last few months (commuting back and forth for short weekends at home) and I am happy to say that that is coming to an end.
I received and accepted an offer from another company that will keep me close to home.
The traveling was only one factor in my desire to move on to other opportunities. Some of the others include a need to get back into the career that I've spent most of my working life in (before it's too late to go back), the fact that I am nearing 40 and need to start focusing on the long term and the intense stress that my current job has built up in me over the years caused, primarily, by my totally bi-polar, bat-shit crazy boss.
Oh, I know...you think you have a crazy, asshole of a boss, too. You do not. Not like I do.
This is someone who I have seen physically attack people for things like...oh, let me think...trying to sell him something or not eating a sandwich he made because they didn't like mayo. This is a guy who will give you a bonus check one day and then claim you're stealing things from him the next. This is someone who might give you the shirt off his back or might try to strangle you with it.
Really, honestly, please trust me on this, there is NO WAY I can properly convey the craziness; no fucking way.
You might ask, why in the world would you work in an environment like this, Mike? And that would be a very sane and sensible inquiry.
As it happens, not knowing how crazy he was when I started (Oh, I was warned but, like I said, there really is no way to accurately describe the level of crazy) I quickly found I was one of the few people who could generally spin his mood and manipulate him away from crazy and more toward a general sense of sanity.. And, truthfully, every time I got to my breaking point and told him I was done he would throw money or trucks or something at me to get me to stay. What can I say? I can be bought. The whole thing is best wrapped up in a little saying my fellow employees and I would often share with people that would ask the very same question:
Yes, we work for the devil, but Hell pays well.
Anyway, I am finally moving on. The job has provided me with a long list of characters and a bunch of very interesting experiences that I am sure will make their way into my writing. It's helped me provide for my family for several years. It's even given me a fair bit of enjoyment (totally insane, monkey fucking a rubber ball kind of enjoyment but enjoyment, just the same).
So that is my news, both professional and personal. I have two days left to spend out of town, just over a week before I start my new job. The sun has been shining and it's been unseasonable warm and it's probably because the powers that be feel like I deserve it (because we all know the world revolves around me).
For now, I say to you, my Faithful Few, good night. And to Buffalo, very shortly, I say goodbye (and good riddance). As in one of my stories, a new chapter begins. I hope it doesn;t play out like one of my stories though...those never end well for the protagonist.
Those of you who follow my tweets and FB updates know that I have been working on a comic. The working title (which I am starting to like more and more as the story develops) is Angel of Death.
The story has guns, bounty hunters, cool cars, a healthy dose violence and gore, a pinch of blasphemy, a few moral musings (generally only alluded to for the reader to do with what they will) and, perhaps best of all, zombies (of a sort).
My only concern (the one that causes me doubts and a bit of tossing and turning in the wee hours) is that I sometimes fear that the entertainment world has been saturated with zombies, at this point. This story has been a glimmer of an idea for a couple of years; slowly developing in the creepy, dark recesses of my cranium. And quite a while back (again, my laziness keeps me from going back to achieve any sort of accurate time stamp) I wrote a post here that talked about catching the next big wave in horror fiction, which I suspected would be zombies. I worry that I may have waited too long.
But, worry and self-doubt are a couple of the hallmarks of the writing life. A good writer tends to be his own worst critic (a bad writer is usually optimistically delusional about his story and/or abilities). When I take an honest look at my story, I continue to think it is very different (or at least different enough) from any zombie-related thing I've seen thus far. So, I go forward. Besides, if I quit now I'd have wasted a good amount of time an effort and, more importantly, I would believe that I let a good thing die.
So far, I have the first script written and sent off to the artist (some of you may know that I am not an entirely shabby artist in my own right, but I've never felt I was very good at the comic work and I certainly don't feel I am as talented as the person I've been able to get on board with this thing). I also have a rough outline of the first arc completed and am working through the cleaner, more detailed outline that I will need for submitting. I have a character file going and a handful of the primary characters fully developed (something else that will be going with the submission) and I am starting work on the script for issue two.
Right! With that out of the way, let's get personal.
Since I am not yet making a living off of my writing (but getting closer and closer) I continue to have a "real" job. Regular visitors here will know that I have been working out of state for the last few months (commuting back and forth for short weekends at home) and I am happy to say that that is coming to an end.
I received and accepted an offer from another company that will keep me close to home.
The traveling was only one factor in my desire to move on to other opportunities. Some of the others include a need to get back into the career that I've spent most of my working life in (before it's too late to go back), the fact that I am nearing 40 and need to start focusing on the long term and the intense stress that my current job has built up in me over the years caused, primarily, by my totally bi-polar, bat-shit crazy boss.
Oh, I know...you think you have a crazy, asshole of a boss, too. You do not. Not like I do.
This is someone who I have seen physically attack people for things like...oh, let me think...trying to sell him something or not eating a sandwich he made because they didn't like mayo. This is a guy who will give you a bonus check one day and then claim you're stealing things from him the next. This is someone who might give you the shirt off his back or might try to strangle you with it.
Really, honestly, please trust me on this, there is NO WAY I can properly convey the craziness; no fucking way.
You might ask, why in the world would you work in an environment like this, Mike? And that would be a very sane and sensible inquiry.
As it happens, not knowing how crazy he was when I started (Oh, I was warned but, like I said, there really is no way to accurately describe the level of crazy) I quickly found I was one of the few people who could generally spin his mood and manipulate him away from crazy and more toward a general sense of sanity.. And, truthfully, every time I got to my breaking point and told him I was done he would throw money or trucks or something at me to get me to stay. What can I say? I can be bought. The whole thing is best wrapped up in a little saying my fellow employees and I would often share with people that would ask the very same question:
Yes, we work for the devil, but Hell pays well.
Anyway, I am finally moving on. The job has provided me with a long list of characters and a bunch of very interesting experiences that I am sure will make their way into my writing. It's helped me provide for my family for several years. It's even given me a fair bit of enjoyment (totally insane, monkey fucking a rubber ball kind of enjoyment but enjoyment, just the same).
So that is my news, both professional and personal. I have two days left to spend out of town, just over a week before I start my new job. The sun has been shining and it's been unseasonable warm and it's probably because the powers that be feel like I deserve it (because we all know the world revolves around me).
For now, I say to you, my Faithful Few, good night. And to Buffalo, very shortly, I say goodbye (and good riddance). As in one of my stories, a new chapter begins. I hope it doesn;t play out like one of my stories though...those never end well for the protagonist.
Anything Worth Doing is Worth Over Doing!
Let's begin this post with a moment of silence for Davy Jones.
Thank you.
If you're not aware, Davy Jones, best known as a member of The Monkees, passed away from a massive heart attack on Feb. 29th. I saw Davy and The Monkees perform in...ummm...let's see...1985 (See what I did there? I used my wordsmithy skills and those little dot, dot, dot things to make it seem like I was thinking even though I could have just done the math and put in the year without all that nonsense. Doing it the way I did it, however, makes it seem like we were actually talking; having a conversation. It's one of those cool writer-type tricks we like to employ. File that away; it will serve you well in your writerly endeavors).
Now, it's entirely possible that you did not know Davy Jones died. It wasn't given a whole lot of news coverage and, with Marcia Brady all grown up, I'm unaware of the status of the Davy Jones Fan Club. And why would the media give it more than a passing mention? Jones wasn't some piece of shit crack whore that threw away God given talents and cried about being led down the path of destruction by a poor choice in love. There was someone like that filling the screen of my TV every time I fucking turned around just a little while ago. No, Jones was, by all accounts, a nice fella and the consumate gentlemen and a pretty, darned good entertainer (and kind of adorable because he was just SOOO little).
Enough of that, though. He's dead. Moving on...
This weekend I attended a charity auction at our church (yes, I belong to a church and they haven't excommunicated me yet...it's a very lenient church). They have this auction every year and it always has a theme. This year's theme was "Vegas."
Sometimes, people dress according to the theme. For instance, last year's theme was "Country & Western" and people wore cowboy hats and boots and shit.
There's some stuff you should know about me. I tend to go a wee bit overboard with stuff sometimes. In fact, we have a family motto: Anything worth doing is worth over doing. I'm also an attention whore. You may have heard that writers tend to be solitary and shy and that they hole themselves in their writer caves and rarely come out into the light of day. That may be true in many cases but I would be the exception to the rule.
Maybe this picture of me at teh auction best explains what I'm trying to say:
I'm the one with the glasses. Oh, and the Elvis outfit.
I found that being Elvis really suits me. People fucking LOVE Elvis!
I took several pictures with friends and strangers alike; I suspect there are a number of Skinny Elvis photos making the rounds of the social media sites about now. The above photo was an impromptu performance requested by the piano player; I was more than happy to oblige. I renewed the wedding vows of an older couple whom I had never met before. I serenaded a table full of strangers who, I'm pretty sure, didn't know what they were getting themselves into when they said "Hey Elvis! Will you sing a song for us?" as I was passing by.
The highlight, I think, had to be when we later went to a Ram's Horn restaurant (where I posed with more strangers for more pictures) and was asked to take a picture with a young, mother-to-be. It was my wife's idea for me to place my hand on the young lady's swollen belly for the picture (a suggestion that the Baby Momma quickly agreed to). So I ended up, essentially, using the powers of The King to bless an unborn child. I'd like to imagine that she'll name him Elvis.
An added bonus for me, and a stroke to my already super-inflated ego, was that the young prego said that I was the (and I quote; that's why the following will have those quotation marks...duh) "coolest person she had met in at least 10 years." That opinion was based solely, as near as I can tell, on the fact that I was willing to visit a Ram's Horn, dressed as Elvis Presley.
It really just demonstrates the power of The King, if you ask me. That young woman was correct in assuming that I was the coolest person she'd met in 10 years but, had she got to know me a little, I'm sure she'd have been convinced I was the coolest person she'd ever met and ever would meet. I could have told her about this whole writer thing. I could have told her I sing in a Rock 'n Roll band. I could have told her I have a bunch of cool weapons and that I could shoot someone's eye out at 100 yards. I could have regaled her with a myriad of stories about various "cool" experiences and escapades.
But...I didn't have to. All I had to do was be Elvis. I'm glad I bought that outfit instead of just renting it.
I could probably go on and on about how great I am (probably? Ha! Fuck yeah I could! I love me!) but, somewhere along the line I should make a point of some sort...I guess.
So what's the point?
The point is, you have to live life. You only get one of them (unless that reincarnation thing is true, which would be pretty sweet) so you ought to make the most of it. While this is a general statement that is true for everybody, let me take a swing at wrangling it into some sort of writer thing, since this is a writer's blog (rarely, it's true, but it's supposed to be).
As a writer, you often get that advice that you should read a lot and write a lot and that's how you become a good writer. Well, those things will help, I suppose, but the most important thing you can do is experience life.
It doesn't matter if your a fiction writer, or a particular sort of fiction writer, or a non-fiction writer or whatever. Your writing will reflect the type of person you are and the types of experiences you have. Sure, you can make a lot of shit up but your writing is going to be more believable and richer if you can put a healthy dose of reality in it; if you can pour yourself into it.
Do you need to be willing to dress up like a Rock & Roll icon and roam through the public? No. That's not something everybody can pull off. I'm a special kind of fucked up; don't try to be me. You'll end up hurting yourself.
You do need to be willing to get off your ass once in a while, though. Sitting and writing (or working or whatever, if you're not a writer) is admirable and all but you need to get out in the sunshine now and again and see what the hell is going on out there. Smell the roses, as they say.
As a public service, I will say that taking things to the next level makes life a whole, helluva lot more interesting. Yeah, people may look at you and say things like "what a crazy fucker" or "that person is insane" or "holy shit, what a jackass" but what they really mean, usually, is "I wish I had the balls to do that."
Plus, the chicks dig it.
Peace out, Bitches!
And, as always, thanks for staying faithful...
Thank you, thank you very much. Uh-huh.
Mike (The King) Kozlowski
Thank you.
If you're not aware, Davy Jones, best known as a member of The Monkees, passed away from a massive heart attack on Feb. 29th. I saw Davy and The Monkees perform in...ummm...let's see...1985 (See what I did there? I used my wordsmithy skills and those little dot, dot, dot things to make it seem like I was thinking even though I could have just done the math and put in the year without all that nonsense. Doing it the way I did it, however, makes it seem like we were actually talking; having a conversation. It's one of those cool writer-type tricks we like to employ. File that away; it will serve you well in your writerly endeavors).
Now, it's entirely possible that you did not know Davy Jones died. It wasn't given a whole lot of news coverage and, with Marcia Brady all grown up, I'm unaware of the status of the Davy Jones Fan Club. And why would the media give it more than a passing mention? Jones wasn't some piece of shit crack whore that threw away God given talents and cried about being led down the path of destruction by a poor choice in love. There was someone like that filling the screen of my TV every time I fucking turned around just a little while ago. No, Jones was, by all accounts, a nice fella and the consumate gentlemen and a pretty, darned good entertainer (and kind of adorable because he was just SOOO little).
Enough of that, though. He's dead. Moving on...
This weekend I attended a charity auction at our church (yes, I belong to a church and they haven't excommunicated me yet...it's a very lenient church). They have this auction every year and it always has a theme. This year's theme was "Vegas."
Sometimes, people dress according to the theme. For instance, last year's theme was "Country & Western" and people wore cowboy hats and boots and shit.
There's some stuff you should know about me. I tend to go a wee bit overboard with stuff sometimes. In fact, we have a family motto: Anything worth doing is worth over doing. I'm also an attention whore. You may have heard that writers tend to be solitary and shy and that they hole themselves in their writer caves and rarely come out into the light of day. That may be true in many cases but I would be the exception to the rule.
Maybe this picture of me at teh auction best explains what I'm trying to say:
I'm the one with the glasses. Oh, and the Elvis outfit.
I found that being Elvis really suits me. People fucking LOVE Elvis!
I took several pictures with friends and strangers alike; I suspect there are a number of Skinny Elvis photos making the rounds of the social media sites about now. The above photo was an impromptu performance requested by the piano player; I was more than happy to oblige. I renewed the wedding vows of an older couple whom I had never met before. I serenaded a table full of strangers who, I'm pretty sure, didn't know what they were getting themselves into when they said "Hey Elvis! Will you sing a song for us?" as I was passing by.
The highlight, I think, had to be when we later went to a Ram's Horn restaurant (where I posed with more strangers for more pictures) and was asked to take a picture with a young, mother-to-be. It was my wife's idea for me to place my hand on the young lady's swollen belly for the picture (a suggestion that the Baby Momma quickly agreed to). So I ended up, essentially, using the powers of The King to bless an unborn child. I'd like to imagine that she'll name him Elvis.
An added bonus for me, and a stroke to my already super-inflated ego, was that the young prego said that I was the (and I quote; that's why the following will have those quotation marks...duh) "coolest person she had met in at least 10 years." That opinion was based solely, as near as I can tell, on the fact that I was willing to visit a Ram's Horn, dressed as Elvis Presley.
It really just demonstrates the power of The King, if you ask me. That young woman was correct in assuming that I was the coolest person she'd met in 10 years but, had she got to know me a little, I'm sure she'd have been convinced I was the coolest person she'd ever met and ever would meet. I could have told her about this whole writer thing. I could have told her I sing in a Rock 'n Roll band. I could have told her I have a bunch of cool weapons and that I could shoot someone's eye out at 100 yards. I could have regaled her with a myriad of stories about various "cool" experiences and escapades.
But...I didn't have to. All I had to do was be Elvis. I'm glad I bought that outfit instead of just renting it.
I could probably go on and on about how great I am (probably? Ha! Fuck yeah I could! I love me!) but, somewhere along the line I should make a point of some sort...I guess.
So what's the point?
The point is, you have to live life. You only get one of them (unless that reincarnation thing is true, which would be pretty sweet) so you ought to make the most of it. While this is a general statement that is true for everybody, let me take a swing at wrangling it into some sort of writer thing, since this is a writer's blog (rarely, it's true, but it's supposed to be).
As a writer, you often get that advice that you should read a lot and write a lot and that's how you become a good writer. Well, those things will help, I suppose, but the most important thing you can do is experience life.
It doesn't matter if your a fiction writer, or a particular sort of fiction writer, or a non-fiction writer or whatever. Your writing will reflect the type of person you are and the types of experiences you have. Sure, you can make a lot of shit up but your writing is going to be more believable and richer if you can put a healthy dose of reality in it; if you can pour yourself into it.
Do you need to be willing to dress up like a Rock & Roll icon and roam through the public? No. That's not something everybody can pull off. I'm a special kind of fucked up; don't try to be me. You'll end up hurting yourself.
You do need to be willing to get off your ass once in a while, though. Sitting and writing (or working or whatever, if you're not a writer) is admirable and all but you need to get out in the sunshine now and again and see what the hell is going on out there. Smell the roses, as they say.
As a public service, I will say that taking things to the next level makes life a whole, helluva lot more interesting. Yeah, people may look at you and say things like "what a crazy fucker" or "that person is insane" or "holy shit, what a jackass" but what they really mean, usually, is "I wish I had the balls to do that."
Plus, the chicks dig it.
Peace out, Bitches!
And, as always, thanks for staying faithful...
Thank you, thank you very much. Uh-huh.
Mike (The King) Kozlowski
A Redemptive, Profanity Laced Quickie (Like Make Up Sex)
You will notice that I am posting with a fairly short interval since my last post. My last one was a quick update of pretty boring on-goings, that I posted mostly because I felt bad at not having had posted anything for a while.
As it happens, some people actually read this shit. And, sometimes, those people share their opinion about the post. I know, I know...people are reading this (not just you, who thought you were my sole follower and that we had a special relationship) and they even bother to comment on occasion? I'm as shocked as anybody.
Furthermore, it seems I have inadvertently set some sort of entertainment level precedent and when I don't achieve that level people are disappointed.
"Dance for me, monkey boy!" they scream at me. "Make me laugh or think or pee myself a little...or all three! Entertain us with your words, pen jockey! That's the only reason we're here!"
So, in the interest of pleasing the Faithful Few (because it is still a relatively small group and I don't want to go fucking up and making it smaller), I have returned to dance my little jig and make you happy; 'cause that's what I'm all about.
Now I don't have any really thought provoking shit to talk about so I'm going to have to fall back on insults and vulgarity. And, really, I think we all know that's where I shine, anyway.
Some of you may have seen this over on the Twitter (and if you're not on the Twitter, you should be) where you can follow me at @MAKozlowski. I think some of this made the Facebook page, as well, and I might even have mentioned bits in a blog post somewhere (I'm far too lazy to go back and look. I'll dance for you, dammit, but I have my limits).
I am making an effort, instituting a proposal, to bring a couple of my favorite words to the forefront of the English language. These words are assloads and fucktard.
Assloads is a unit of measurement. It means a lot; a whole lot, bunches and bunches of. Granted, the specific amount inferred by the word assloads is subjective. First of all, it's subject to your idea of an ass. You should be thinking no less that J.Lo ass and, when properly wielded, the word should bring to mind the kinds of tons-of-fun ass you find in fetish porn mag's with names like Super Booty or Gargantuan Gluteus Maximus Mommas!
Of course, the great thing about the word assloads, is that it is subjective. Think of it like the kind of words you might find in a recipe; a pinch, a dash, a dollop. Use to taste.
The other word, fucktard, really shouldn't need an explanation (though I'd say assloads is kind of right up there in your face, too). Fucktard is very versatile. It's most common use is as a noun but derivatives can be adjectives, pronouns, adverbs...it's really limited only by your creativity.
This is what should come to mind when you think of a fucktard:
The guy that is driving in front of you, at ten miles below the speed limit, with his left turn signal on for fifteen miles. Fucktard.
The woman at the supermarket checkout who asks if you'd like your milk in a bag. Of course not. If you put my milk in a bag it's going to run all over the fucking place. Just leave it in the jug. Fucktard.
The guy with the nasty ass dreadlocks who comes to your door and asks you to contribute to the Clean Water Action Fund (or some such bullshit). Clean water? That's why I pay taxes; so they'll chloride the shit out of that junk before shipping it through the pipes to my house. Hey, throw a little more fluoride in that bitch, too, my teeth are losing their sparkly whiteness. You want to help the world, Bob Marley? Clean that rat nest you call a hairdo, cut that shit, and get a real job. Nice Birkenstocks, Fucktard!
Here's an excellent sentence that demonstrates the basic use of these words:
While working in western NY, I find that I am surrounded by assloads of fucktards.
Now, now, western New Yorkers, don't go getting all baby shit whiny on me. The fact of the matter is that I firmly believe that 90% of the population (probably higher, but I don't want to be a complete dick) falls under the fucktard label; not just in NY (though you seems to have more than your fair share) but throughout the globe. If I become famous and am doing a book signing somewhere around Buffalo, please leave the sniper rifles at home. I'm not necessarily picking on you, it just happens to be that I am spending an inordinate amount of time in your region and it's not by choice and I really don't want to fucking be here, so you have to suffer my barbs.
But like I said, it's not just you. It's everybody.
That makes me a Fucktardian. It's a movement.
Those who follow the Fucktardian path operate under the assumption that the majority of the human population should be killed for their own good and, if that's a step too far, certainly should not be allowed to procreate. Fucktardians are a bit like pessimists. We assume you are a complete fucking idiot unless you prove us wrong. It's just easier that way.
Now, given the law of averages, it would stand to reason that you may think you or some of your fellow Faithful Few must fall into the fucktard range.
It's possible.
However, since you have the good sense to follow me, I am inclined to think that, while you may be an occasional fucktard (as we all are), it is unlikely that you are permanently afflicted with fucktardedness. So sleep the peaceful unicorn and rainbow filled sleep of the unfucktarded, my Lovelies.
Okay! So there you have a rant that I hope will redeem me from my ill advised, un-fucking-funny and non-curse word laced previous post.
I will try, in the future, to be both informative and entertaining at all times. I will fail miserably, but I will try.
Now, I am going to go do some of that wordsmithy stuff that you're really not all that interested in. Don't worry, the main character in my current WIP loves the word fucktard. He loves it assloads!
As always, thanks for staying faithful,
Mike
As it happens, some people actually read this shit. And, sometimes, those people share their opinion about the post. I know, I know...people are reading this (not just you, who thought you were my sole follower and that we had a special relationship) and they even bother to comment on occasion? I'm as shocked as anybody.
Furthermore, it seems I have inadvertently set some sort of entertainment level precedent and when I don't achieve that level people are disappointed.
"Dance for me, monkey boy!" they scream at me. "Make me laugh or think or pee myself a little...or all three! Entertain us with your words, pen jockey! That's the only reason we're here!"
So, in the interest of pleasing the Faithful Few (because it is still a relatively small group and I don't want to go fucking up and making it smaller), I have returned to dance my little jig and make you happy; 'cause that's what I'm all about.
Now I don't have any really thought provoking shit to talk about so I'm going to have to fall back on insults and vulgarity. And, really, I think we all know that's where I shine, anyway.
Some of you may have seen this over on the Twitter (and if you're not on the Twitter, you should be) where you can follow me at @MAKozlowski. I think some of this made the Facebook page, as well, and I might even have mentioned bits in a blog post somewhere (I'm far too lazy to go back and look. I'll dance for you, dammit, but I have my limits).
I am making an effort, instituting a proposal, to bring a couple of my favorite words to the forefront of the English language. These words are assloads and fucktard.
Assloads is a unit of measurement. It means a lot; a whole lot, bunches and bunches of. Granted, the specific amount inferred by the word assloads is subjective. First of all, it's subject to your idea of an ass. You should be thinking no less that J.Lo ass and, when properly wielded, the word should bring to mind the kinds of tons-of-fun ass you find in fetish porn mag's with names like Super Booty or Gargantuan Gluteus Maximus Mommas!
Of course, the great thing about the word assloads, is that it is subjective. Think of it like the kind of words you might find in a recipe; a pinch, a dash, a dollop. Use to taste.
The other word, fucktard, really shouldn't need an explanation (though I'd say assloads is kind of right up there in your face, too). Fucktard is very versatile. It's most common use is as a noun but derivatives can be adjectives, pronouns, adverbs...it's really limited only by your creativity.
This is what should come to mind when you think of a fucktard:
The guy that is driving in front of you, at ten miles below the speed limit, with his left turn signal on for fifteen miles. Fucktard.
The woman at the supermarket checkout who asks if you'd like your milk in a bag. Of course not. If you put my milk in a bag it's going to run all over the fucking place. Just leave it in the jug. Fucktard.
The guy with the nasty ass dreadlocks who comes to your door and asks you to contribute to the Clean Water Action Fund (or some such bullshit). Clean water? That's why I pay taxes; so they'll chloride the shit out of that junk before shipping it through the pipes to my house. Hey, throw a little more fluoride in that bitch, too, my teeth are losing their sparkly whiteness. You want to help the world, Bob Marley? Clean that rat nest you call a hairdo, cut that shit, and get a real job. Nice Birkenstocks, Fucktard!
Here's an excellent sentence that demonstrates the basic use of these words:
While working in western NY, I find that I am surrounded by assloads of fucktards.
Now, now, western New Yorkers, don't go getting all baby shit whiny on me. The fact of the matter is that I firmly believe that 90% of the population (probably higher, but I don't want to be a complete dick) falls under the fucktard label; not just in NY (though you seems to have more than your fair share) but throughout the globe. If I become famous and am doing a book signing somewhere around Buffalo, please leave the sniper rifles at home. I'm not necessarily picking on you, it just happens to be that I am spending an inordinate amount of time in your region and it's not by choice and I really don't want to fucking be here, so you have to suffer my barbs.
But like I said, it's not just you. It's everybody.
That makes me a Fucktardian. It's a movement.
Those who follow the Fucktardian path operate under the assumption that the majority of the human population should be killed for their own good and, if that's a step too far, certainly should not be allowed to procreate. Fucktardians are a bit like pessimists. We assume you are a complete fucking idiot unless you prove us wrong. It's just easier that way.
Now, given the law of averages, it would stand to reason that you may think you or some of your fellow Faithful Few must fall into the fucktard range.
It's possible.
However, since you have the good sense to follow me, I am inclined to think that, while you may be an occasional fucktard (as we all are), it is unlikely that you are permanently afflicted with fucktardedness. So sleep the peaceful unicorn and rainbow filled sleep of the unfucktarded, my Lovelies.
Okay! So there you have a rant that I hope will redeem me from my ill advised, un-fucking-funny and non-curse word laced previous post.
I will try, in the future, to be both informative and entertaining at all times. I will fail miserably, but I will try.
Now, I am going to go do some of that wordsmithy stuff that you're really not all that interested in. Don't worry, the main character in my current WIP loves the word fucktard. He loves it assloads!
As always, thanks for staying faithful,
Mike
An Update From the Dark Side
First things first. Today is the youngest offspring's birthday. Connor is 10 today. I very much wish I could be home today to celebrate with him but, alas, there is this thing called "responsibility" that precludes that. I love him very, very much and I hope he has a great day. I'm looking forward to his party.
This is a picture of my youngest nerd:
As most of you know, by now, I have been working out of town for the last couple months and, barring any major changes, will be doing so for the next couple of months. It sucks, I hate it, but it is what it is. Such is life; we often have to do things that suck and that we hate, for the greater good.
Of course, the worst part is missing the family. This set up makes me feel a bit like a divorced father who gets visitation with the kids on the weekends. Now, that's not all bad for the kids because, much like a divorced dad, I am usually overcompensating for having been away. This means we usually end up making sure to do something together on the weekend.
Sometimes that something is just going to the comic book store, sometimes it's Lazer Tag or a movie. we managed a trip to a musical not too long ago (speaking of which, here is a picture of the boys outside of the Detroit Opera House when we went to see American Idiot).
A couple weekends ago, we went to catch a movie. Although we did not go see Star Wars: Episode One in 3D (like I want that bag of shit movie all up in my face), it happened to be the weekend of the premiere and there was a stormtrooper guy at the theater when we arrived. Being the diligent and committed nerds that we are, this was the result:
(FYI, that is my nephew, Joey, in the middle picture (the one in the hat, not the helmet))
When we came out of our movie, there were more pretend Star Wars people roaming around so we took some more pictures:
Then the wookie showed up:
Aaron really likes wookies.
In writer-type news, I have begun working in earnest on my comic project. I am very pleased to have Robert Elrod on board as the artist. Robert, you may recall, did some excellent work for the cover of my collection: Some Days Suck, Some Days Suck Worse (available here for Kindle, here for Nook and here for everything else).
And here is a look at that cover:
We have some good leads on submitting our work and are making good progress. You can get the basis of the story (at least the first issue or two) from the very rough chapters that I have posted on the website, in the Free Reads section.
I am about halfway through the first script and have sent Rob some character descriptions and the first several pages of script so that he can start playing with the artwork. I am finding that scripting is a rather slow process. Now, it may be that I am overly descriptive in my scripts (regarding page layout and such) and, as Robert and I get more comfortable with the way each other works, this will speed up on my end.
There is also the process of rewriting and editing that comes in. Normally, with a story or a novel, I would write the whole thing out and then go back, after letting it fester a bit, and rewrite the whole thing after making notes in the original. Then I would do that again.
In this case, I have a complete arc outlined and a few chapters of story written that I am changing into an entirely different format and finding that, along with the regular editing, I am making changes that make the story more visually pleasing, as well as a better read.
It's interesting.
Thus far, I am very pleased with the way it's going and I hope to be posting some samples before too awful long.
Other than that, life is moving along, whether I want it to or not, so I just keep holding on tight and hoping it doesn't buck me.
More soon,
Mike
This is a picture of my youngest nerd:
As most of you know, by now, I have been working out of town for the last couple months and, barring any major changes, will be doing so for the next couple of months. It sucks, I hate it, but it is what it is. Such is life; we often have to do things that suck and that we hate, for the greater good.
Of course, the worst part is missing the family. This set up makes me feel a bit like a divorced father who gets visitation with the kids on the weekends. Now, that's not all bad for the kids because, much like a divorced dad, I am usually overcompensating for having been away. This means we usually end up making sure to do something together on the weekend.
Sometimes that something is just going to the comic book store, sometimes it's Lazer Tag or a movie. we managed a trip to a musical not too long ago (speaking of which, here is a picture of the boys outside of the Detroit Opera House when we went to see American Idiot).
A couple weekends ago, we went to catch a movie. Although we did not go see Star Wars: Episode One in 3D (like I want that bag of shit movie all up in my face), it happened to be the weekend of the premiere and there was a stormtrooper guy at the theater when we arrived. Being the diligent and committed nerds that we are, this was the result:
(FYI, that is my nephew, Joey, in the middle picture (the one in the hat, not the helmet))
When we came out of our movie, there were more pretend Star Wars people roaming around so we took some more pictures:
Then the wookie showed up:
Aaron really likes wookies.
In writer-type news, I have begun working in earnest on my comic project. I am very pleased to have Robert Elrod on board as the artist. Robert, you may recall, did some excellent work for the cover of my collection: Some Days Suck, Some Days Suck Worse (available here for Kindle, here for Nook and here for everything else).
And here is a look at that cover:
We have some good leads on submitting our work and are making good progress. You can get the basis of the story (at least the first issue or two) from the very rough chapters that I have posted on the website, in the Free Reads section.
I am about halfway through the first script and have sent Rob some character descriptions and the first several pages of script so that he can start playing with the artwork. I am finding that scripting is a rather slow process. Now, it may be that I am overly descriptive in my scripts (regarding page layout and such) and, as Robert and I get more comfortable with the way each other works, this will speed up on my end.
There is also the process of rewriting and editing that comes in. Normally, with a story or a novel, I would write the whole thing out and then go back, after letting it fester a bit, and rewrite the whole thing after making notes in the original. Then I would do that again.
In this case, I have a complete arc outlined and a few chapters of story written that I am changing into an entirely different format and finding that, along with the regular editing, I am making changes that make the story more visually pleasing, as well as a better read.
It's interesting.
Thus far, I am very pleased with the way it's going and I hope to be posting some samples before too awful long.
Other than that, life is moving along, whether I want it to or not, so I just keep holding on tight and hoping it doesn't buck me.
More soon,
Mike
Funny Things, Melodic Things, Alcoholic Things and Me
So I promised to blog this week. I'm sure you've all been checking in daily to see if I had, indeed, put up a new post. I imagine your sad faces, tears stealing down your cheeks, each day as you come away disappointed.
Fear not! Here it is!
Having taken a second to go back and verify, I see that I even commented on what I would blog about. Now, normally that really wouldn't mean much. I'm a fickle bastard and, if I had something interesting to go on about, I would completely ignore my previous teaser.
As it happens, life of late has not thrown anything newer at me than what I had planned on blah-blah-blahing about, so let's get to it.
Comics
I was a comics kid. Not a crazy, in my room every day kind of comics kid, but I did have a pretty good stack of Archie's and Batman's and Superman's and...well, you get the idea.
While I remained (and remain still) a fan of most thing superhero related, especially concerning Batman, I had a pretty long break from comics in general and can't quite recall the last time I read a DC or Marvel standard.
I did begin reading more grown up comics though. No, not Penthouse comic collections (you perverted bastards). I'm talking more about your graphic novel sort of stuff; things like Watchmen and Sin City. I've read all the Walking Dead releases and collect the hardcover collections.
My latest foray, and I'm coming a bit late to the game, I admit, is Locke & Key. L&K is written by Joe Hill, whose virtues I have extolled before and illustrated by Gabriel Rodriguez and the first thing that pops to mind when I try to describe it is, "Holy Fuck!"
(By the way, you should go search out Joe and Gabe on Twitter. They're clever and interesting and even take time to talk to a guy like me every now and again.)
Truth be told, I picked up issue 1 of the L&K Head Games arc quite a while ago and I thought it was great, but it was the second arc in the series and I wanted to go back and start at the beginning. However, it can be a bit troublesome, sometimes, to go back and find older issues of comics (and I didn't have my great connections at Green Brain yet) so I decided to wait for the trade paperbacks to come out...and I sort of got into other stuff and didn't get around to picking them up (there's currently three arcs collected in TPs) until just a couple weeks ago when I took the boys to the comic shop and swiped up Welcome to Lovecraft.
I devoured it!
Really, I don't think I was home an hour with it before it was finished and tucked away on the bookshelf. I was spent. It was like great sex (only it lasted longer).
The next chance I had, I went and picked up Head Games and Crown of Shadows (books 2 & 3). I read these more slowly, even went back and re-read book 1. I spent time savoring Gabriel's artwork and mulling Hill's story. I'm more than tempted to run out and buy the single issues of the rest of the story but am trying to hold off for the release of future trades. I think there are three to go. I doubt I'll be able to hold out.
I've also caught up on another budding series, The Umbrella Academy. I have my son, Aaron, to thank for this one. It's written by Gerard Way (the lead singer of My Chemical Romance) and illustrated by Gabriel Ba' (I seem to have a thing for artists named Gabriel).. My son, as I might have mentioned before, is a big MCR fan (we road tripped to a concert in Chicago not long ago, which you can read about here) and he discovered the comic.
It's clever and freaky and funny and poignant and scary and all kinds of things it should be. Way tells a great tale, brings to life imaginative characters and creates a fantastic world. Frankly, it pisses me off a little that the guy is as talented at this as he is with music. Fucker.
There are two Umbrella Academy books available now and both Aaron and I are anxiously awaiting more.
Musicals
I like musicals. No, I'm not gay.
I like the old musicals, like Guys and Dolls and South Pacific and have taken my Dad to see a fair few. I like the funny stuff like Spamalot (caught that one with the old man, too). I liked Phantom of the Opera and enjoyed it even more because we made the trip (a whole family sort of thing many years back) to Toronto and saw it at the Pantages Theater, which was, essentially, renovated just for that show.
Aaron likes musicals, too. Connor hadn't yet been to one (outside of some high school productions which he enjoyed) but he has a musical lilt to him (like his brother and I) so I figured it'd be a safe bet.
They both like Green Day and, well what do ya know, it just happens that there is a musical called American Idiot based on the Green Day album. So, I shelled out for tickets and, last weekend, the boys and I went down to the Detroit Opera House for the show.
The Opera House itself, is very cool, beautifully restored (and still in progress; there was something about one of the artists fleeing the country or some such...a tidbit I picked up from one of the workers there...it's good to be able to talk with people, to have no sense of embarrassment or fear of humiliation).
I had expected to enjoy the show (I like Green Day, as well) but I enjoyed it much more than I thought I would. It was a well written story, the music was cool, the stage movements were seamless, swift and stylish. There were some very cool effects and some very simple, but very dramatic, moments. And, I'll be damned, it was even sort of a moral fable, it turns out.
Of course, sharing it with the boys (who both loved it) was the best part of all.
Wine
I like wine. Maybe more than I like musicals. I'm not a wine snob. I don't sniff corks (unless I'm fucking around acting like a wine snob), I can enjoy a $5 bottle as much as a $50 bottle.
Most of my wine drinking tends to take place about 200 yards down the street from my house, at the home of our friends Jeff and Jenny. Since I've been traveling a lot lately, Wine Nights (which tend to be a Wednesdays for some reason or another) have been few and far between, but we were able to enjoy one this past weekend (it was a good weekend, what with wine and music and comic books).
I could go on about the laughing and the fun conversation and the sharing of stories and the pie (YES, GOD DAMMIT, THERE WAS PIE! And we all know how I feel about pie, don't we?). I could go on and on about how much I enjoy their company (and the company of my wife, of course) and how nice it was to have time to sit and talk and feel normal amidst my recently hectic life. I could go on about how I can't wait to do it again and how, even though it's a pretty simple thing, these wine nights, they have come to be one of my favorite things. I could go on about....Hey! Look at that! I have gone on and on.
Our wine nights tend to rely on a pretty standard variety of wine. However, we do, on occasion, try a little something different from the norm (usually having several bottles of the norm in reserve because you don't want to take a chance of fucking up wine night by not having good wine about).
On this most recent wine night, I brought a bottle for the table to try. It was a homemade hooch from a gentleman I met in Buffalo (where I am working during the week). He is a Croatian man who makes his own wine (of various varieties), as well as bruschetta (not the tomatoes on bread but the cured meat), which I also had samples of while at the man's home (on homemade bread that his mother had just taken out of the oven. Holy shit, was that good!).
The guy is a truck driver here. Came over to this country while war tore his apart, looking for a better life. He works hard, has brought many of his family over, loves America but misses his home. He left many vineyards and acres of property (which his family still owns and some visit, though he has not been back in over 15 years) and a much more laid back lifestyle (before the bombs and such, of course) to come here and chase his dreams. He is a very interesting man and I look forward to spending more time with him.
Anyway, back to the wine. My new friend gave me a bottle that was a mix of Cabernet, Merlot and Pinot Grigio. Sounded interesting. And it was. It had a strong scent but a smooth flavor. I quite enjoyed it. I think my enjoyment was highlighted by the story behind the wine; behind my new friend and, as always, by the presence of my other friends.
Good Things About Buffalo
I'm about 1600 words into this blog. I am very tempted to just say there are no good things about Buffalo and to call it a day. But...well, I said I'd talk about some good things out here so I'll keep my word. Mostly because you guys mean so much to me and I'd hate for you to think me a liar.
It's probably a bit therapeutic, as well. Maybe it will help me sleep tonight. Tomorrow, I get to go home for my too short weekend (And who knows? Maybe another wine night).
So...good things:
I get to meet interesting people. A large part of my job is dealing with homeowners where we are performing work; typically we start four or five new homes each week. The above mentioned wine supplier is an excellent example.
I also have a great bunch of guys working for me out here (not counting, of course, the no-longer-here lunatic from a previous post). They're dedicated and hard working but also, by and large, enjoyable and funny and entertaining. Most of us travel here from Michigan so there is a bit of camaraderie beyond the normal co-worker thing. We all wish we were home, some more than others, and I think we make a point of trying to make the best of the situation for everyone.
I get paid well for this gig. It's a small comfort.
As painful as it is, being away from home makes me appreciate my family and friends even more than usual. It helps me realize how lucky I am for the many wonderful people in my life, most of all my wife and sons.
The wings are pretty good.
Okay, that's all I can think of.
Now, it's getting late and I have some reading to do (I already did a bit of writing *pats self on back*). Maybe next time I'll blog about some writerly stuff. Or maybe something else will come up that I'll want to spout off about. Can't tell ya for sure. Hey, that's part of my charm, right?
Thanks for staying faithful,
Mike
Fear not! Here it is!
Having taken a second to go back and verify, I see that I even commented on what I would blog about. Now, normally that really wouldn't mean much. I'm a fickle bastard and, if I had something interesting to go on about, I would completely ignore my previous teaser.
As it happens, life of late has not thrown anything newer at me than what I had planned on blah-blah-blahing about, so let's get to it.
Comics
I was a comics kid. Not a crazy, in my room every day kind of comics kid, but I did have a pretty good stack of Archie's and Batman's and Superman's and...well, you get the idea.
While I remained (and remain still) a fan of most thing superhero related, especially concerning Batman, I had a pretty long break from comics in general and can't quite recall the last time I read a DC or Marvel standard.
I did begin reading more grown up comics though. No, not Penthouse comic collections (you perverted bastards). I'm talking more about your graphic novel sort of stuff; things like Watchmen and Sin City. I've read all the Walking Dead releases and collect the hardcover collections.
My latest foray, and I'm coming a bit late to the game, I admit, is Locke & Key. L&K is written by Joe Hill, whose virtues I have extolled before and illustrated by Gabriel Rodriguez and the first thing that pops to mind when I try to describe it is, "Holy Fuck!"
(By the way, you should go search out Joe and Gabe on Twitter. They're clever and interesting and even take time to talk to a guy like me every now and again.)
Truth be told, I picked up issue 1 of the L&K Head Games arc quite a while ago and I thought it was great, but it was the second arc in the series and I wanted to go back and start at the beginning. However, it can be a bit troublesome, sometimes, to go back and find older issues of comics (and I didn't have my great connections at Green Brain yet) so I decided to wait for the trade paperbacks to come out...and I sort of got into other stuff and didn't get around to picking them up (there's currently three arcs collected in TPs) until just a couple weeks ago when I took the boys to the comic shop and swiped up Welcome to Lovecraft.
I devoured it!
Really, I don't think I was home an hour with it before it was finished and tucked away on the bookshelf. I was spent. It was like great sex (only it lasted longer).
The next chance I had, I went and picked up Head Games and Crown of Shadows (books 2 & 3). I read these more slowly, even went back and re-read book 1. I spent time savoring Gabriel's artwork and mulling Hill's story. I'm more than tempted to run out and buy the single issues of the rest of the story but am trying to hold off for the release of future trades. I think there are three to go. I doubt I'll be able to hold out.
I've also caught up on another budding series, The Umbrella Academy. I have my son, Aaron, to thank for this one. It's written by Gerard Way (the lead singer of My Chemical Romance) and illustrated by Gabriel Ba' (I seem to have a thing for artists named Gabriel).. My son, as I might have mentioned before, is a big MCR fan (we road tripped to a concert in Chicago not long ago, which you can read about here) and he discovered the comic.
It's clever and freaky and funny and poignant and scary and all kinds of things it should be. Way tells a great tale, brings to life imaginative characters and creates a fantastic world. Frankly, it pisses me off a little that the guy is as talented at this as he is with music. Fucker.
There are two Umbrella Academy books available now and both Aaron and I are anxiously awaiting more.
Musicals
I like musicals. No, I'm not gay.
I like the old musicals, like Guys and Dolls and South Pacific and have taken my Dad to see a fair few. I like the funny stuff like Spamalot (caught that one with the old man, too). I liked Phantom of the Opera and enjoyed it even more because we made the trip (a whole family sort of thing many years back) to Toronto and saw it at the Pantages Theater, which was, essentially, renovated just for that show.
Aaron likes musicals, too. Connor hadn't yet been to one (outside of some high school productions which he enjoyed) but he has a musical lilt to him (like his brother and I) so I figured it'd be a safe bet.
They both like Green Day and, well what do ya know, it just happens that there is a musical called American Idiot based on the Green Day album. So, I shelled out for tickets and, last weekend, the boys and I went down to the Detroit Opera House for the show.
The Opera House itself, is very cool, beautifully restored (and still in progress; there was something about one of the artists fleeing the country or some such...a tidbit I picked up from one of the workers there...it's good to be able to talk with people, to have no sense of embarrassment or fear of humiliation).
I had expected to enjoy the show (I like Green Day, as well) but I enjoyed it much more than I thought I would. It was a well written story, the music was cool, the stage movements were seamless, swift and stylish. There were some very cool effects and some very simple, but very dramatic, moments. And, I'll be damned, it was even sort of a moral fable, it turns out.
Of course, sharing it with the boys (who both loved it) was the best part of all.
Wine
I like wine. Maybe more than I like musicals. I'm not a wine snob. I don't sniff corks (unless I'm fucking around acting like a wine snob), I can enjoy a $5 bottle as much as a $50 bottle.
Most of my wine drinking tends to take place about 200 yards down the street from my house, at the home of our friends Jeff and Jenny. Since I've been traveling a lot lately, Wine Nights (which tend to be a Wednesdays for some reason or another) have been few and far between, but we were able to enjoy one this past weekend (it was a good weekend, what with wine and music and comic books).
I could go on about the laughing and the fun conversation and the sharing of stories and the pie (YES, GOD DAMMIT, THERE WAS PIE! And we all know how I feel about pie, don't we?). I could go on and on about how much I enjoy their company (and the company of my wife, of course) and how nice it was to have time to sit and talk and feel normal amidst my recently hectic life. I could go on about how I can't wait to do it again and how, even though it's a pretty simple thing, these wine nights, they have come to be one of my favorite things. I could go on about....Hey! Look at that! I have gone on and on.
Our wine nights tend to rely on a pretty standard variety of wine. However, we do, on occasion, try a little something different from the norm (usually having several bottles of the norm in reserve because you don't want to take a chance of fucking up wine night by not having good wine about).
On this most recent wine night, I brought a bottle for the table to try. It was a homemade hooch from a gentleman I met in Buffalo (where I am working during the week). He is a Croatian man who makes his own wine (of various varieties), as well as bruschetta (not the tomatoes on bread but the cured meat), which I also had samples of while at the man's home (on homemade bread that his mother had just taken out of the oven. Holy shit, was that good!).
The guy is a truck driver here. Came over to this country while war tore his apart, looking for a better life. He works hard, has brought many of his family over, loves America but misses his home. He left many vineyards and acres of property (which his family still owns and some visit, though he has not been back in over 15 years) and a much more laid back lifestyle (before the bombs and such, of course) to come here and chase his dreams. He is a very interesting man and I look forward to spending more time with him.
Anyway, back to the wine. My new friend gave me a bottle that was a mix of Cabernet, Merlot and Pinot Grigio. Sounded interesting. And it was. It had a strong scent but a smooth flavor. I quite enjoyed it. I think my enjoyment was highlighted by the story behind the wine; behind my new friend and, as always, by the presence of my other friends.
Good Things About Buffalo
I'm about 1600 words into this blog. I am very tempted to just say there are no good things about Buffalo and to call it a day. But...well, I said I'd talk about some good things out here so I'll keep my word. Mostly because you guys mean so much to me and I'd hate for you to think me a liar.
It's probably a bit therapeutic, as well. Maybe it will help me sleep tonight. Tomorrow, I get to go home for my too short weekend (And who knows? Maybe another wine night).
So...good things:
I get to meet interesting people. A large part of my job is dealing with homeowners where we are performing work; typically we start four or five new homes each week. The above mentioned wine supplier is an excellent example.
I also have a great bunch of guys working for me out here (not counting, of course, the no-longer-here lunatic from a previous post). They're dedicated and hard working but also, by and large, enjoyable and funny and entertaining. Most of us travel here from Michigan so there is a bit of camaraderie beyond the normal co-worker thing. We all wish we were home, some more than others, and I think we make a point of trying to make the best of the situation for everyone.
I get paid well for this gig. It's a small comfort.
As painful as it is, being away from home makes me appreciate my family and friends even more than usual. It helps me realize how lucky I am for the many wonderful people in my life, most of all my wife and sons.
The wings are pretty good.
Okay, that's all I can think of.
Now, it's getting late and I have some reading to do (I already did a bit of writing *pats self on back*). Maybe next time I'll blog about some writerly stuff. Or maybe something else will come up that I'll want to spout off about. Can't tell ya for sure. Hey, that's part of my charm, right?
Thanks for staying faithful,
Mike
Buffalo sucks! 'Nuff said.
So I'm stuck working in (well, around) Buffalo, NY each week. It'd be nice to say I was doing some cool writer-type thing but I'm not. I'm out here for the real job and it sucks.
I drive out here on Sunday and drive back on Friday so I, essentially, spend one day at home each week with the wife and kids. Oh! I should probably mention that I'm driving back and forth between here and Michigan (for those of you who might not remember where I'm from), which is around a 6 hour drive each way.
Now, since I have fuck all to do each evening, it stands to reason that I might be getting a lot of writing done while I'm out here and that was the one bright spot in this hellish existence that I thought I could manage. It was the one piece of turd in this great, big pile of manure that I thought I could polish up enough to shine.
Yeah...so...um...not so much.
You see, being out here, away form the family, is an absolutely soul sucking experience which completely drains my motivation for doing anything other than vegging out in front of the television each evening, watching the local news, and pretending I'm assassinating Buffalonians (of Buffers, or Buffaloes, or whatever the fuck they call themselves because I haven't bothered to find out) with my groovy thumb/forefinger pistol.
I have traveled for work before, quite regularly, but this is much different. It's not the occasional week away. It's a lengthy time of regularly being away. Being more away than there (by a large percentage) over a significant period of time.
I hate Buffalo.
It's not really Buffalo's fault. I'd hate wherever I was under these circumstances.
So I have no wonderful writing updates for you. I am still working on the comic/graphic novel/novel thing but not very effectively.
I did just read the first two books in the Umbrella Academy series by Gerard Way and Gabriel Ba'. Very cool. Very good. Very entertaining. And I'm all caught up on The Walking Dead collections available. And I've started catching up on Locke & Key.
Hmmm....kind of a comic theme. Guess the kids are right...I'm a nerd.
So......let me entertain you with a little story, since I'm actually managing to type something (and you have no idea the force of will required to even get this post out but, you know, I love you guys).
Last week I had a bit of an exciting evening.
I have been staying with four other guys while I'm out here (shut up, fuckers). They typically have a few beers after a hard day's work and we sit around bullshitting for a bit (I drink Pepsi, not much of a beer guy anymore).
The other night, about 9:00 pm, they decided to go to a local strip bar (already having a few drinks into them). I opted to stay back and go to bed early. Not that I have anything against strip bars, I'm happy to support single mothers, I just wasn't feeling up to it.
About 4:00 am (that's when the bar's close here), I hear a commotion. "Great," I think, "rowdy, drunk bastards are back and waking me up about three hours earlier than I need to be up."
I hear more yelling, some "fuck you's" and what sounds like furniture and such being overturned. Just as I start rousing myself out of my nice warm bed...
*pause* The guy that just delivered my pizza had huge, mutton chop sideburns. What a douche! Stoooopid Buffalonians!
...so I'm getting up. My door busts open, kicked in by a very drunk, possibly high, lunatic who happens to be my boss's son.
"And fuck you, too, Mike Koz!" he yells. Then proceeds to jabber something about killing me and my family before stomping off to destroy defensless drywall, tables, a van window and some kitchen appliances.
Well...good morning.
I get dressed and wander out, still rather hazy, to find that somehow a fight had ensued in which the aforementioned lunatic decided to beat up the other three guys. Now, the lunatic is considerably larger than two of the guys and obviously out of his gourd. The other guy is already gone, having called somebody to get him after the nuttiness started.
I grab a convenient crow bar, not because I'm really worried about the guy attacking me but not taking any chances being a smaller guy myself, and try to figure out just what the fuck is going on. I've missed most of the excitement by this point.
Mr. Lunatic sees me, apologizes for the trouble he is causing (I'm their supervisor) and tears off in a company truck while I start picking up the pieces. Police are called, one guy is taken to the hospital with a fractured eye socket and I get to spend a few hours trying to explain all this nonsense.
Hours later, I retrieve the injured (well, the most severely injured) party from the hospital, get a wrecked truck towed 20 miles back to the shop, organize a replacement window for the company van which had a large rock thrown through it, finish cleaning up the most easily cleanable parts of the mess that was made and try to get all the other assholes to work out here amongst the chaos.
The lunatic ends up back in Michigan (not particularly sorry or concerned about what he's done, which really isn't a surprise because it;s his typical M.O. though usually only harming himself or ending up in jail) and I have half of one of my crews now essentially useless for the next couple of days.
Yep. I sure love it here. The good times just keep a-comin'!
Oh, and as I type this, the wind is blowing something like 50 miles an hour (and that is not an exaggeration, there's all kinds of advisories on TV) and it's quickly turning cold with snow in the forecast. I'm nearly 400 miles from home and I would like to drop a nuke on this place.
I apologize to any of my friends and/or fans that live here in Buffalo or the surrounding area. And I feel sorry for you. It sucks here.
I think I'll eat my pizza now and maybe I'll manage to get a bit done on that zombie story. I'm really feeling the need to write about killing some shit. I might be typing "zombie" but I'll be thinking "Buffalo."
Thanks, as always, for staying faithful. I'll try to make it a little more worth your while soon.
Mike
I drive out here on Sunday and drive back on Friday so I, essentially, spend one day at home each week with the wife and kids. Oh! I should probably mention that I'm driving back and forth between here and Michigan (for those of you who might not remember where I'm from), which is around a 6 hour drive each way.
Now, since I have fuck all to do each evening, it stands to reason that I might be getting a lot of writing done while I'm out here and that was the one bright spot in this hellish existence that I thought I could manage. It was the one piece of turd in this great, big pile of manure that I thought I could polish up enough to shine.
Yeah...so...um...not so much.
You see, being out here, away form the family, is an absolutely soul sucking experience which completely drains my motivation for doing anything other than vegging out in front of the television each evening, watching the local news, and pretending I'm assassinating Buffalonians (of Buffers, or Buffaloes, or whatever the fuck they call themselves because I haven't bothered to find out) with my groovy thumb/forefinger pistol.
I have traveled for work before, quite regularly, but this is much different. It's not the occasional week away. It's a lengthy time of regularly being away. Being more away than there (by a large percentage) over a significant period of time.
I hate Buffalo.
It's not really Buffalo's fault. I'd hate wherever I was under these circumstances.
So I have no wonderful writing updates for you. I am still working on the comic/graphic novel/novel thing but not very effectively.
I did just read the first two books in the Umbrella Academy series by Gerard Way and Gabriel Ba'. Very cool. Very good. Very entertaining. And I'm all caught up on The Walking Dead collections available. And I've started catching up on Locke & Key.
Hmmm....kind of a comic theme. Guess the kids are right...I'm a nerd.
So......let me entertain you with a little story, since I'm actually managing to type something (and you have no idea the force of will required to even get this post out but, you know, I love you guys).
Last week I had a bit of an exciting evening.
I have been staying with four other guys while I'm out here (shut up, fuckers). They typically have a few beers after a hard day's work and we sit around bullshitting for a bit (I drink Pepsi, not much of a beer guy anymore).
The other night, about 9:00 pm, they decided to go to a local strip bar (already having a few drinks into them). I opted to stay back and go to bed early. Not that I have anything against strip bars, I'm happy to support single mothers, I just wasn't feeling up to it.
About 4:00 am (that's when the bar's close here), I hear a commotion. "Great," I think, "rowdy, drunk bastards are back and waking me up about three hours earlier than I need to be up."
I hear more yelling, some "fuck you's" and what sounds like furniture and such being overturned. Just as I start rousing myself out of my nice warm bed...
*pause* The guy that just delivered my pizza had huge, mutton chop sideburns. What a douche! Stoooopid Buffalonians!
...so I'm getting up. My door busts open, kicked in by a very drunk, possibly high, lunatic who happens to be my boss's son.
"And fuck you, too, Mike Koz!" he yells. Then proceeds to jabber something about killing me and my family before stomping off to destroy defensless drywall, tables, a van window and some kitchen appliances.
Well...good morning.
I get dressed and wander out, still rather hazy, to find that somehow a fight had ensued in which the aforementioned lunatic decided to beat up the other three guys. Now, the lunatic is considerably larger than two of the guys and obviously out of his gourd. The other guy is already gone, having called somebody to get him after the nuttiness started.
I grab a convenient crow bar, not because I'm really worried about the guy attacking me but not taking any chances being a smaller guy myself, and try to figure out just what the fuck is going on. I've missed most of the excitement by this point.
Mr. Lunatic sees me, apologizes for the trouble he is causing (I'm their supervisor) and tears off in a company truck while I start picking up the pieces. Police are called, one guy is taken to the hospital with a fractured eye socket and I get to spend a few hours trying to explain all this nonsense.
Hours later, I retrieve the injured (well, the most severely injured) party from the hospital, get a wrecked truck towed 20 miles back to the shop, organize a replacement window for the company van which had a large rock thrown through it, finish cleaning up the most easily cleanable parts of the mess that was made and try to get all the other assholes to work out here amongst the chaos.
The lunatic ends up back in Michigan (not particularly sorry or concerned about what he's done, which really isn't a surprise because it;s his typical M.O. though usually only harming himself or ending up in jail) and I have half of one of my crews now essentially useless for the next couple of days.
Yep. I sure love it here. The good times just keep a-comin'!
Oh, and as I type this, the wind is blowing something like 50 miles an hour (and that is not an exaggeration, there's all kinds of advisories on TV) and it's quickly turning cold with snow in the forecast. I'm nearly 400 miles from home and I would like to drop a nuke on this place.
I apologize to any of my friends and/or fans that live here in Buffalo or the surrounding area. And I feel sorry for you. It sucks here.
I think I'll eat my pizza now and maybe I'll manage to get a bit done on that zombie story. I'm really feeling the need to write about killing some shit. I might be typing "zombie" but I'll be thinking "Buffalo."
Thanks, as always, for staying faithful. I'll try to make it a little more worth your while soon.
Mike
A New Year...and I'm Still Here.
2012. If the Mayans are right (or rather, the people who interpret the Mayan calender), this will be my last New Year post. By this time next year we'll all be....well, we won't be.
As it happens, I think that's a bunch of hooey and that's there as good a chance that an asteroid will wipe us all out even while I'm typing this as there is that the world will end next December or that it will continue on for centuries and centuries beyond my meager existence.
Main thing is, I can't do much about it (except maybe cut back on my use of aerosol products) so I don't really give a fuck.
Last year, for my New Year post, I complained about the lack of cool sci-fi type things that I read about, or saw on television, as a child. I'm still a bit miffed that I don't have a personal jetpack or a flying car but I won't dig up them bones.
Instead, I'll take a moment to reflect on the past year, before wishing you all a prosperous new one.
I managed to get a number of things published over the last year and I feel like great strides were made in the writing career. I have people asking me to contribute work now, rather than just me searching out submission opportunities, and that's an excellent feeling.
I'm still not managing enough income to make writing my full time gig, but it's all about baby steps, right?
I've found that the Twitter has become my default social media. While I still post to Facebook, my MySpace hasn't see action in over a year. Facebook is quickly heading in that direction. I find it's a good platform for keeping in touch with friends and family (and playing some games) but Twitter is where it's at for instant conversations and getting in touch with and forming relationships with like minded people (for the record, Linked In is a useless POS and Google+ hasn't come close to selling me).
I have "met" some of the best people on the Twitter; other authors, editors, bloggers and just plain, old funny sons of bitches. They are nice and supportive and clever and well informed and...well,...Twitter' folk are just cool.
I've spent another year watching my sons grow toward manhood and being thankful for having a couple of great kids, despite the gray hairs they cause and the occasional need to thump them in the head (not literally, of course...no need to call Social Services...just sayin;...).
My greatest accomplishment, and the thing I am most thankful for, over the last year is that I've managed to live through it. Not that it was difficult to live through it but you never know, right? Sadly, as with every year, friends and family members passed away; some much too soon and some that were rather expected.
I am thankful that I have at least one more day, or hour, or minute, or whatever I have, to enjoy this world. It may be largely fucked up, but in my opinion, it's better than the alternative.
The New Year offers some interesting opportunities. I have some feelers out there which may result in a change of the "real" job and I have a number of writing projects already started.
I have committed myself to five stories, for various editors, in the next six weeks, I have my zombie project movie along, I am revising my Australia book for self publication and I am working on the print version of Some Days Suck, Some Days Suck Worse. And, of course, there are always one or two other projects in some stage of completion or another.
I'm looking forward to great things in 2012 and I am wishing great things for all of you:
I hope that you will take the time to enjoy the things this world has to offer; the big things and the little ones.
I hope you will chase a dream; whether you catch it or not isn't really important.
I hope you will love and be loved.
I hope that you can find something each day to make you laugh.
I hope that I can make more wishes for you in 2013.
As always, thanks for staying faithful,
Mike
As it happens, I think that's a bunch of hooey and that's there as good a chance that an asteroid will wipe us all out even while I'm typing this as there is that the world will end next December or that it will continue on for centuries and centuries beyond my meager existence.
Main thing is, I can't do much about it (except maybe cut back on my use of aerosol products) so I don't really give a fuck.
Last year, for my New Year post, I complained about the lack of cool sci-fi type things that I read about, or saw on television, as a child. I'm still a bit miffed that I don't have a personal jetpack or a flying car but I won't dig up them bones.
Instead, I'll take a moment to reflect on the past year, before wishing you all a prosperous new one.
I managed to get a number of things published over the last year and I feel like great strides were made in the writing career. I have people asking me to contribute work now, rather than just me searching out submission opportunities, and that's an excellent feeling.
I'm still not managing enough income to make writing my full time gig, but it's all about baby steps, right?
I've found that the Twitter has become my default social media. While I still post to Facebook, my MySpace hasn't see action in over a year. Facebook is quickly heading in that direction. I find it's a good platform for keeping in touch with friends and family (and playing some games) but Twitter is where it's at for instant conversations and getting in touch with and forming relationships with like minded people (for the record, Linked In is a useless POS and Google+ hasn't come close to selling me).
I have "met" some of the best people on the Twitter; other authors, editors, bloggers and just plain, old funny sons of bitches. They are nice and supportive and clever and well informed and...well,...Twitter' folk are just cool.
I've spent another year watching my sons grow toward manhood and being thankful for having a couple of great kids, despite the gray hairs they cause and the occasional need to thump them in the head (not literally, of course...no need to call Social Services...just sayin;...).
My greatest accomplishment, and the thing I am most thankful for, over the last year is that I've managed to live through it. Not that it was difficult to live through it but you never know, right? Sadly, as with every year, friends and family members passed away; some much too soon and some that were rather expected.
I am thankful that I have at least one more day, or hour, or minute, or whatever I have, to enjoy this world. It may be largely fucked up, but in my opinion, it's better than the alternative.
The New Year offers some interesting opportunities. I have some feelers out there which may result in a change of the "real" job and I have a number of writing projects already started.
I have committed myself to five stories, for various editors, in the next six weeks, I have my zombie project movie along, I am revising my Australia book for self publication and I am working on the print version of Some Days Suck, Some Days Suck Worse. And, of course, there are always one or two other projects in some stage of completion or another.
I'm looking forward to great things in 2012 and I am wishing great things for all of you:
I hope that you will take the time to enjoy the things this world has to offer; the big things and the little ones.
I hope you will chase a dream; whether you catch it or not isn't really important.
I hope you will love and be loved.
I hope that you can find something each day to make you laugh.
I hope that I can make more wishes for you in 2013.
As always, thanks for staying faithful,
Mike
Let Me Explain...
It's been ages since I've blogged. I apologize. Let me explain...
To begin with, I dropped back on the blogging and twitter and facebook stuff a bit so that I could concentrate on, you know, actually writing stories. I'd like to say that that was incredibly successful and that my newest work will be publishing soon. I'd like to say that but that would be bullshit.
I have made progress on some of my projects, even good progress that I'm happy with, but not as much progress as I might have hoped for. Let me explain....
Since my last post (around the end of November), we had a visit from some friends from Australia. You probably remember that we lived over there for a while.
It had been about six years since we'd last seen anyone from Down Under so, of course, we had to do all that crazy cleaning and little fix-em-up projects around the house so that when they came to visit we gave the impression of been much more put together than we really are.
It was great seeing them, parading them around like dancing monkeys to speak in that groovy accent to all our friends and neighbors, showing them the limited sights that we have here in metro Detroit and catching up on all that stuff you catch up on when not seeing someone for a long time.
When they moved on, I thought I'd really be able to get down and dirty with the writing. I thought I would but I didn't. Let me explain...
My day job took an unexpected turn when I was asked (you can read that as forcibly enslaved) to head up a project in Buffalo, NY (well, the suburbs thereof) which required me to spend my weeks there; leaving on Sunday afternoon and driving back on Friday.
Want to know something? It sucks!
Buffalo (sorry, Buffaloes or Buffalonians or Buffers or whatever the fuck you call yourselves) is a shitty place to be. Particularly in the the winter. It has the worst weather and worse drivers of anywhere I've ever been. This is coming from a guy who lived in a country that didn't even know what side of the road to drive on.
I was hoping that I'd get some time to write in the evenings, while in Buffalo. There's not a whole fuck of a lot else to do. I hoped I would but I didn't. Let me explain...
Besides the fact that the project kept me busy for 12 or 13 hours each day, I think the stress and shit fuck ball sucking reality (sorry but I can't over emphasize this) of being away from home just left me too exhausted to give two shits about getting anything creative done. That's a terrible attitude for a writer, I know. We're supposed to knuckle down and hit the keyboard and force words, even poopy words, out into the universe, but I just couldn't manage it.
Fortunately, it was a two week gig (to begin with) and I am back home for the holidays. I was pretty certain I could really start catching up on the writing and the blogging and remind people on Twitter and Facebook that I hadn't been crushed by a bus. I was pretty certain but...well, you know the score by now. Let me explain...
Today is December 21st. Four days until Christmas. I really don't think I need to explain any more than that, do I?
So, here I am, cramming a few minutes of time into my day in order to write this blog. And I'm really hoping to do some website work and even get the second chapter of the current, main WIP up on the site for you. And I have a short to work on for a submission request.
In a bit over a week I am scheduled to head back to Armpit, USA...I mean Buffalo. Maybe I'll manage to be more productive while I'm there. Maybe I'll shoot myself in the damn face because the place licks ass. It's a toss up.
With a little luck, some of my...mmm...feelers and contingency plans will come through and I won't have to go back to Buffalo at all. Keep your fingers crossed for me.
In the meantime, I'll do what I can to be around a little more and to remind you that I'm still at it, even if I'm at it a little slower than usual.
As always, thanks for staying faithful,
Mike
To begin with, I dropped back on the blogging and twitter and facebook stuff a bit so that I could concentrate on, you know, actually writing stories. I'd like to say that that was incredibly successful and that my newest work will be publishing soon. I'd like to say that but that would be bullshit.
I have made progress on some of my projects, even good progress that I'm happy with, but not as much progress as I might have hoped for. Let me explain....
Since my last post (around the end of November), we had a visit from some friends from Australia. You probably remember that we lived over there for a while.
It had been about six years since we'd last seen anyone from Down Under so, of course, we had to do all that crazy cleaning and little fix-em-up projects around the house so that when they came to visit we gave the impression of been much more put together than we really are.
It was great seeing them, parading them around like dancing monkeys to speak in that groovy accent to all our friends and neighbors, showing them the limited sights that we have here in metro Detroit and catching up on all that stuff you catch up on when not seeing someone for a long time.
When they moved on, I thought I'd really be able to get down and dirty with the writing. I thought I would but I didn't. Let me explain...
My day job took an unexpected turn when I was asked (you can read that as forcibly enslaved) to head up a project in Buffalo, NY (well, the suburbs thereof) which required me to spend my weeks there; leaving on Sunday afternoon and driving back on Friday.
Want to know something? It sucks!
Buffalo (sorry, Buffaloes or Buffalonians or Buffers or whatever the fuck you call yourselves) is a shitty place to be. Particularly in the the winter. It has the worst weather and worse drivers of anywhere I've ever been. This is coming from a guy who lived in a country that didn't even know what side of the road to drive on.
I was hoping that I'd get some time to write in the evenings, while in Buffalo. There's not a whole fuck of a lot else to do. I hoped I would but I didn't. Let me explain...
Besides the fact that the project kept me busy for 12 or 13 hours each day, I think the stress and shit fuck ball sucking reality (sorry but I can't over emphasize this) of being away from home just left me too exhausted to give two shits about getting anything creative done. That's a terrible attitude for a writer, I know. We're supposed to knuckle down and hit the keyboard and force words, even poopy words, out into the universe, but I just couldn't manage it.
Fortunately, it was a two week gig (to begin with) and I am back home for the holidays. I was pretty certain I could really start catching up on the writing and the blogging and remind people on Twitter and Facebook that I hadn't been crushed by a bus. I was pretty certain but...well, you know the score by now. Let me explain...
Today is December 21st. Four days until Christmas. I really don't think I need to explain any more than that, do I?
So, here I am, cramming a few minutes of time into my day in order to write this blog. And I'm really hoping to do some website work and even get the second chapter of the current, main WIP up on the site for you. And I have a short to work on for a submission request.
In a bit over a week I am scheduled to head back to Armpit, USA...I mean Buffalo. Maybe I'll manage to be more productive while I'm there. Maybe I'll shoot myself in the damn face because the place licks ass. It's a toss up.
With a little luck, some of my...mmm...feelers and contingency plans will come through and I won't have to go back to Buffalo at all. Keep your fingers crossed for me.
In the meantime, I'll do what I can to be around a little more and to remind you that I'm still at it, even if I'm at it a little slower than usual.
As always, thanks for staying faithful,
Mike
Originals and Covers
I've been very busy and have really neglected the blog and the website. Sorry about that.
I totally blew past the opportunity to talk about the Bob Seger concert that the wife and I went to. That sucks because it was a surprisingly good concert and it made me feel 18 again, not because the music took me back to days gone by but because everybody else at the concert was soooo fucking old!
You know how they shine the stage lights into the audience every once in a while? When they did that I was nearly blinded by the glare off the bald spots (and it wasn't just on the dudes). And when I went to get a beer their were people wandering around in a daze throughout the concourse, not because they were high or something (like at most concerts) but because they just couldn't remember where their seats were. Hell, they may have been trying to figure out if they came out there for a drink or to piss or to get nachos.
Now, Seger is like 66 or 67 (I'm too lazy to google it) and he really put on a good show and sounded great. And any time you get to see Alto Reed on the sax, well fuck, that right there was worth the price of admission. Still, when you're choices of beverage are soda, water, beer or Ensure...well, being the youngest guy at that concert might have made me feel young in comparison but it still made me feel old to be there in the first place.
Hey! Look at that! Guess I didn't miss that opportunity after all.
In other news...
Robert Elrod finished the cover for my collection and it's currently available (with the groovy new art work) on Amazon or over at Smashwords or for you Nookies (heheheheh, I like saying "nookie"...it's like on the old Newlywed Show, when they said "whoopee" all the time) it's available at Barnes & Noble.
I was going to post a picture of the cover here, but I'm having an issue doing that because I appear to be some sort of fucktard that can't properly manage uploading and posting the picture. So you'll have to go over to the facebook fan page and find it.
WOW! Took me forever to link to that FB page. Not sure what the fuck is going on but I think this post is going to end up being short because I'm getting frustrated and it's almost time for American Horror Story.
You can go to Robert's site (which you should do anyway) and check the cover out there, too.
robertelrodllc.com/
I'm currently working on having the print copy available (waiting on the proof for review) and I will happily sign them for you; maybe even get them, sign them and ship them to you (for the right price, of course).
I recently read Stephen King's latest offering, 11/22/63. It was a good story. Interesting, kind of creepy, very sci-fi, clever, sometimes funny, etc. Pretty much what I've come to expect and have always loved from King.
However, at 800+ pages, it seemed a bit drawn out. It seems to me that King has a thing with writing these massive works anymore. It feels a bit much, you know. But hey, he's the one with the millions; I'm just the guy with a shit ass blog who buys every one of his books as soon as it comes out.
Right. So my kid is giving me the evil eye because I paused the DVR while finishing this blog and he really wants to get on with watching American Horror Story. For the record. I watch this one with the 15 year old, not the 9 year old. The 9 year old can watch The Walking Dead with us but AHS is a bit extreme.
I'll try not to stay away so long this time. You guys do the same. Visit the website, the FB page and give me a shout out on Twitter. You can find me there under the handle @MAKozlowski
As always, thanks for staying Faithful,
Mike
P.S. I'll get to updating that website and getting some fresh reading material there for you soon.
I totally blew past the opportunity to talk about the Bob Seger concert that the wife and I went to. That sucks because it was a surprisingly good concert and it made me feel 18 again, not because the music took me back to days gone by but because everybody else at the concert was soooo fucking old!
You know how they shine the stage lights into the audience every once in a while? When they did that I was nearly blinded by the glare off the bald spots (and it wasn't just on the dudes). And when I went to get a beer their were people wandering around in a daze throughout the concourse, not because they were high or something (like at most concerts) but because they just couldn't remember where their seats were. Hell, they may have been trying to figure out if they came out there for a drink or to piss or to get nachos.
Now, Seger is like 66 or 67 (I'm too lazy to google it) and he really put on a good show and sounded great. And any time you get to see Alto Reed on the sax, well fuck, that right there was worth the price of admission. Still, when you're choices of beverage are soda, water, beer or Ensure...well, being the youngest guy at that concert might have made me feel young in comparison but it still made me feel old to be there in the first place.
Hey! Look at that! Guess I didn't miss that opportunity after all.
In other news...
Robert Elrod finished the cover for my collection and it's currently available (with the groovy new art work) on Amazon or over at Smashwords or for you Nookies (heheheheh, I like saying "nookie"...it's like on the old Newlywed Show, when they said "whoopee" all the time) it's available at Barnes & Noble.
I was going to post a picture of the cover here, but I'm having an issue doing that because I appear to be some sort of fucktard that can't properly manage uploading and posting the picture. So you'll have to go over to the facebook fan page and find it.
WOW! Took me forever to link to that FB page. Not sure what the fuck is going on but I think this post is going to end up being short because I'm getting frustrated and it's almost time for American Horror Story.
You can go to Robert's site (which you should do anyway) and check the cover out there, too.
robertelrodllc.com/
I'm currently working on having the print copy available (waiting on the proof for review) and I will happily sign them for you; maybe even get them, sign them and ship them to you (for the right price, of course).
I recently read Stephen King's latest offering, 11/22/63. It was a good story. Interesting, kind of creepy, very sci-fi, clever, sometimes funny, etc. Pretty much what I've come to expect and have always loved from King.
However, at 800+ pages, it seemed a bit drawn out. It seems to me that King has a thing with writing these massive works anymore. It feels a bit much, you know. But hey, he's the one with the millions; I'm just the guy with a shit ass blog who buys every one of his books as soon as it comes out.
Right. So my kid is giving me the evil eye because I paused the DVR while finishing this blog and he really wants to get on with watching American Horror Story. For the record. I watch this one with the 15 year old, not the 9 year old. The 9 year old can watch The Walking Dead with us but AHS is a bit extreme.
I'll try not to stay away so long this time. You guys do the same. Visit the website, the FB page and give me a shout out on Twitter. You can find me there under the handle @MAKozlowski
As always, thanks for staying Faithful,
Mike
P.S. I'll get to updating that website and getting some fresh reading material there for you soon.
