Showing posts with label Writing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Writing. Show all posts

Sunday, March 18, 2018

The Unemployment Logs, Chapter i

~ 3/13/2018 ~

Currently listening to an audiobook called Nomadland about American seniors forced into nomadic living and migrant work when their finances failed, and the more I listen the more I realize that I could never live this kind of life. Mostly it's the migrant work that I just know I couldn't handle. They travel from place to place working for a few weeks or months in an Amazon warehouse or harvesting sugar beets or working as campsite hosts in national parks, and from the stories in the book they're treated like shit, paid minimum wage, work mandatory 12+ hour days, frequently perform unpaid overtime, and expected to grin and say, "Thank you, sir! May I have another?"

I couldn't do it. Companies who break the law - many of them contracted by the government who is supposed to enforce that law - and then expect their employees to be grateful for it send me into a rage that - were I in that position - would probably end in murder. Am I just spoiled?  According to the people profiting on the backs of senior labor I am, and apparently those companies are staunch vertebrae in the backbone of the economy!

I don't think I can ever work full-time for somebody else again anyway. That is my goal in life at this point: Find a way to work only for myself from now on. That is the central theme that all my post-layoff plans revolve around. I'm both excited and terrified to see if I can make them work.

On a related note, drug tests piss me off (*drum fill*).

Seriously though, it really is the ultimate violation. If I were an employer and asked a potential candidate to drop trou' and let me inspect their genitals, I'd be driven out of business overnight and probably locked up, but when a potential employer demands to look even deeper inside, at the fluids and sometimes tissue produced by those intimate parts, that is not only considered completely reasonable in the minds of the public, but to some that employer is looked upon as a stand-up member of the community - a bastion against a propagandized plague they've been taught to revile and fear their whole life. Forget that, provided it doesn't affect my on-the-job performance, what I do in my private time should be my own business. Forget that I should be able to do whatever I want with my own body, so long as it doesn't infringe on the rights of others. Forget that uncounted millions of Americans ingest intoxicants every single day and yet still manage to be productive, contributing members of society. Forget all of that, because we have to stop drug users from...what? Getting jobs so they don't have to steal to support their either recreational or habitual drug use?

Fuck that. I'm never taking a drug test again. If I starve, so be it. I'd rather be dead than live in Gattaca.

We should boycott companies that conduct routine and/or random drug screenings. Of course it would mean boycotting damn near every company, but maybe we could all just start with one and work our way out to the others in turn.

Yeah, and maybe people will start thinking for themselves instead of blindly accepting what the media/government/church/society tells them to.

I need to stop thinking so much. I need to learn to turn off my brain, eat my heaping bowl of shit, smile, and say, "Thank you, sir! May I have another?" I'd probably be a lot happier that way.

~ 03/15/2018 ~

Had a meeting with WorkSource when I got to the office today. They're the company that handles unemployment for my state, I guess. Is every government program contracted out at this point? I don't know which is more disconcerting - the idea that I'm going to have to apply for a government program every week for the next few weeks/months/who-knows-how-long or knowing that my ability to collect unemployment benefits rests in the hands of the lowest bidder.

(I feel I should note at this point that I don't actually know whether WorkSource is a private contractor or a government agency, and I don't want to mislead anyone into thinking that I do. All I know is that it kinda feels like one, and I worry about that sort of thing. If it turns out that I am wrong, I apologize. Don't take my word for this shit. How 'bout a little due-diligence on your part, slacker!)

On the upside, it turns out there are programs available for people like me, who hold grand delusions of self-employed success and would rather suck crabs off a camel's sandy sack than have to apply for the privilege of doing a job we hate in order to fill someone else's pockets with the fruits of our labor. 

Did that sound bitter?

Well, fuck. I guess I am a little bitter. Maybe I would be less so if there were some individual or small group of individuals that I could convince myself were responsible for the sorry, cock-biting state of affairs that is the American job market, but there isn't, and consequently there is nowhere to aim my frustration, so all it can do is stew. This cluster-rape of the local economy was carried out by dozens - if not hundreds - of individuals spread out all over the country and was facilitated by laws and oversight that every American of voting age (myself included) allowed to spin out of control like a freebasing figure-skater and kick up the whirlwind of middle-class devastation that currently ravages the socioeconomic landscape.

Which begs the question, whom am I to blame for this mess, when the pool of those responsible stretches as far and wide as the borders of this country and is saturated with the apathetic urea of three hundred million citizens, none of whom seem to have read the sign about not pissing in the water?

In the end, I guess I can only blame myself for staying mired in a puddle of lukewarm safety when what I should have done years ago was pull myself out and lay something on the line. Yeah, it could have ended badly, but at least I would have been striving for something worthwhile. Now it's still ending badly, but all I can say is that I risked nothing for nothing to no end.

On the bright side, I'm still eligible for unemployment.

~ 03/17/2018 ~

Submitted a story for publication for the first time in nearly two years!

Now, to be clear, I'm not talking about a new story. In fact, it's the same story I submitted almost two years back. Yay progress!

I'm not proud of this level of procrastination and I realize I should have been submitting my finished stories left and right until I either found someone to buy them or exhausted every market and had to resign myself to the fact that they are unsellable, but I'm doing it now which is a step in the right direction, so fuck you for being so goddamn hypercritical (he said to the one actually leveling the accusations at him - namely, himself)!

Now I just need to get some actual story writing done

-GABE


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Tuesday, March 13, 2018

I'm Back, Motherfuckers!

Yeah, I know, opening a post by implying that all of you good people are secretly doinking your own mothers is kind of an aggressive way to announce my return to the blogosphere, but after such a long absence I figure the first post I write is going to set the tone for everything that comes after, and I don't want anybody wandering in here thinking they're going to find the same old posts by the same old Gabe they got so comfortable with all those years ago. I am NOT the person who wrote those old posts. I am older, I have more scar tissue on both my body and my soul, and I have neither the time nor the inclination to tiptoe around the fragile sensibilities of the more conservative people I'm friends with on Facebook. No disrespect to you if you're one of them, but if the word fuck is too much for you to bear, please just block my posts from showing up in your feed. We can still be friends, but these posts are for people who are interested in what's going on in my head, and my head is a place where fuck is one of the kinder, gentler words getting bandied about on a minute-by-minute basis.

Okay, now that we've gotten that out of the way, I expect anyone still reading is cool with me just being me, for better or (maybe especially) for worse.

A QUICK RECAP OF THE PAST THREE AND A HALF YEARS:

- Year One -

Love!

No writing.

- Year Two -

More love!!!

I write two short stories, neither of which reaches the point of being fit for publication. Net result: No writing.

All my favorite celebrities die.

My mother dies.

Creditors assure me that, due to my extreme credit card debt, I have qualified for emergency assistance and, provided I do not miss any future payments, interest will stop accruing and my debts will be paid off in no more than five years. I breathe a sigh of relief and they immediately charge-off my account and sell the debt to a collection agency. FUCK!

My son has been accepted to Stanford!!!

The company I work for gets bought-out. The corporation that did the buying tell us to expect business as usual and that nothing will change, but I read between the lines and determine that there's a Texas-sized downsizing on the horizon. Corporate denies everything. Business as usual, they say. I refuse to be lulled into a false sense of security.

Trump wins the election.

At least next year can't get any worse.

- Year Three -

Trump takes office.

It gets worse.

Corporate informs us that our entire department is going to be outsourced to North Carolina, but they're not telling us when. We'll just have to wait and find out. I hate to say I told you so, but...

Romantic love cools and solidifies into platonic love.

I haven't written anything worth submitting for publication in years!%&@*!

False starts at new novels, all of which fizzle out after a few chapters. Net result: No writing.

Platonic love isn't enough. The love of my life and I break up the day before I drive my son to California to begin his first year at Stanford. It is mutual but nonetheless crushing. I don't think I believe in romantic love anymore.

Several attempts at dating with absolutely no positive results.

Turns out the breakup wasn't as mutual as I thought it was. I feel like a steaming sack of shit, and the worst part is that I can only blame myself.

I forget to pay my property taxes for an entire year! Yay!

Hanging in a professional and personal Limbo the like of which I have never experienced, I want to believe 2018 can't possibly get any worse, but I seem to recall having a similar thought before.

- And A Half -

I turn thirty-nine.

Notice arrives in the mail that a collection agency is suing me for my credit card debt. Panic ensues. Lawyers are consulted. I spend three weeks enduring sweaty terror-shits.

My boss calls me into the conference room and tells me that the hammer has finally fallen, that I will be out of a job by May 11th, maybe sooner (depending on how many people in my department up and quit between now and then).

With the impending end of my fifteen years of dedicated employment no longer just an amorphous doom cloud floating hazily in the future and my faith in the redemptive power of romantic love completely shattered, my fight-or-flight sense kicks into gear and I realize that if ever there was a moment to pull my head out of my ass and start pursuing my dreams seriously, this is it. In the words of Black Cougar Shock Unit (they're a band, I swear), I'm done fucking around.

What better way to stop fucking around than to update my blog?

Yes. Weep. A blog post as a life-affirming declaration of intent. This is the future, and the future is fucked.

~

And now you're all caught-up (or as caught-up as I care to get you)! Where does it go from here? Who knows. I have plans, but as Public Enemy once titled an album, Man Plans, God Laughs. I'll keep you updated. And this time, I might actually do it.

-GABE



Remember, you can FOLLOW me on Twitter (CLICK HERE) and Instagram (CLICK HERE), LIKE me on Facebook (CLICK HERE), and SUBSCRIBE to my YouTube channel (CLICK HERE) if you haven't already. Hope to see you there!

Sunday, September 14, 2014

They Say You Never Forget Your First Time

It's up now!!!

I am, of course, referring to my first published story - Digit - which you can find in audio format by heading over to Pseudopod.org (CLICK HERE to go straight to it!), where you can stream it or download it, along with a backlog of over 400 more episodes, for free. It's also on iTunes, on Pseudopod's podcast page (it's episode 403: Flash On The Borderlands XXI: The Tyranny Of Objects).

Thank you so much to Pseudopod, for being the first to purchase one of my stories (Follow them on Twitter and subscribe to them on iTunes!), and to Kyle Akers, for a fantastic reading (Follow him on Twitter as well!)!

So give the story a listen, will ya?

Oh, and for a little extra fun, CLICK HERE and download or stream Pseudopod 285: Kill Screen - the very first horror podcast I ever listened to. It gave me a good chill, but then, I am a child of the '80s.

-GABE

Remember, you can FOLLOW me on Twitter (CLICK HERE) and Instagram (CLICK HERE), LIKE me on Facebook (CLICK HERE), and SUBSCRIBE to my YouTube channel (CLICK HERE) if you haven't already. Hope to see you there!

Thursday, May 16, 2013

V.Log Episode XIV - Nothing Much To Report

Just kinda going through the motions on this one. If you are absolutely riveted by my life, check it out. Otherwise, you'll probably be bored.




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V.Log Episodes XIII - Fat & Unhappy

Once again, I posted this last week on YouTube. I'm just a slacker about posting it here. For my language-sensitive friends, I drop a lot of F-bombs in this one.




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Sunday, May 5, 2013

V.Log Episode XII - Change-Up

I am a procrastinator, but I'm trying to change.




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Friday, February 1, 2013

V.Log Episode VI




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Wednesday, January 30, 2013

Wednesday, January 23, 2013

Monday, January 21, 2013

Third V.Log (I Wrote A Christmas Song!)




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Friday, January 18, 2013

Wednesday, January 16, 2013

My Very First V.Log (I'm Sorry)

So, we kinda all knew this was coming, right?




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Wednesday, November 28, 2012

The No-Shave November Logs, Day 28: Establish Good Work Habits

I'm revisiting Stephen King's On Writing, and it's like reliving a lecture from my dad. I don't say that as a criticism, only to give you a sense of the feeling it gives me as I listen (I'm a longtime lover of the audiobook format). It's like simultaneously being chastised and encouraged.

I don't write regularly. I've been writing pretty much every day (I missed last Saturday), but never at the same time or in the same place. What I really need in my writing life is some regularity. Insert Ex-Lax joke here.

I built myself a writing nook in my furnace room earlier this year, and have only used it five or six times. It's small and free of distractions (the regular roar of the furnace necessitates the use of earmuffs, which effectively deafen me), which is exactly what King recommends. I think the main thing keeping me out of it is that the chair in there isn't very comfortable, but that's a BS excuse, because none of the other chairs in my house are comfortable either.

So I'm going to try a new system, starting tomorrow morning. I'm going to get up at a reasonable hour (I'm thinking 10:00), lock myself into my writing nook, and write. I'm going to do the same thing every morning for the rest of the year, and then take a look back at how well it's worked.

My guess is that I'll be pretty happy with the results. Assuming, of course, that I get to bed at a reasonable hour each night. But that's another bad habit I need to find a solution for. Oh well! One thing at a time.



DAILY NO-SHAVE NOVEMBER PIC:


I call this look, Hopeful Sailor.


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Thursday, November 22, 2012

The No-Shave November Logs, Day 22: Stand Up Straight And Speak Clearly

Thanksgiving is a day that's all about traditions. The great thing about having a relatively new holiday (in the historical sense) that's all about traditions is that you can start a new tradition whenever you want, and it's just as valid and important as all the rest that have gone before.

Today I attempted to start a new family tradition. Over the last few nights, I wrote a Thanksgiving-themed story to be read after Thanksgiving dinner. As family is one of the things that makes Thanksgiving so important, I decided to base all of the characters on my family, and make the setting the house I would be reading the story in.

Overall, I think "Turkey Day" went over pretty well. What might have been a pulpy horror story in other circumstances became a campy comedy, as everyone in the room could put not only a face, but a personality to each of the characters and events as I read them. I think we had a pretty good time, and I hope to do it again next year, ideally with a new story for the new year.

I'm currently toying with writing one for Christmas, but I'm not sure if I can pull a new story out of my brain that quickly. But who knows? I only thought up "Turkey Day" on Tuesday night, and that worked out great!

DAILY NO-SHAVE NOVEMBER PIC:


I call this look, Grateful Dawg.


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Wednesday, November 21, 2012

The No-Shave November Logs, Day 21: Put Some Though Into It

Last night I started work on a Thanksgiving story, to be read either during or after Thanksgiving dinner. I just hope I can finish it in time. I mean, I know I won't have a polished final draft, but if I can just have something that will keep everybody entertained for 10 or 20 minutes, I'll be happy. It's going to be a near thing, but if I work hard on it again tonight and put in some time on Thursday morning, I think I can do it. If not, just don't tell my family about it, okay? What they don't know won't hurt them.

Since you asked, it's called "Turkey Day," which doesn't give away much, I know. I'm not going to tell you what it's about until after Thanksgiving because - and don't take this personally - I'm afraid I just don't know that I can trust you not to either tell my family or be my family.

Okay, enough about family and writing and Thanksgiving. On to the really important stuff!

So, I'm replaying my way through Grand Theft Auto IV...

Just kidding. That was just a test to see whether or not you're secretly a member of my family. I know that Grand Theft Auto IV isn't nearly as important as family, or even writing or Thanksgiving. Grand Theft Auto: Vice City on the other hand...


DAILY NO-SHAVE NOVEMBER PIC:


I call this look, Wooly Manmouth.


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Monday, November 19, 2012

The No-Shave November Logs, Day 19: Pay-Up

I spent the morning tallying up my contributions to the economy, like a good American. I think that, of all the different forms of pain, paying bills is definitely my favorite.

So, yeah, not much other than that. Still writing every day, but that won't be news until I either get something finished or get something published. I'll keep you updated.

Well, that's it for today. Enjoy the picture. I've got to go apply some salve to my butthole (I paid bills today. Get it?).

DAILY NO-SHAVE NOVEMBER PIC:


I call this look, So Totally Over It.


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Saturday, November 17, 2012

The No-Shave November Logs, Day 17: Have A Plan

So I've set some daily writing goals for myself, and so far they seem to be working out. I'm starting off small - 250 words per day, every day for the rest of the month - but I will gradually increase my quota until I reach a point where I find that happy medium between productivity and tolerability. My current plan is to up the count to 350 words per day for December, then raise it again to 500 in January. I don't have a clear plan after that, but my guess is I'll raise it a little every month until I'm up in the 2,000 word range, which - once I've really gotten back into the swing of things - will probably be at or near that sweet spot.

Additionally, my plan is to spend the next month and a half finishing all the half-written stories waiting for me on my hard drive. Then, on January 1st, I'll start working in earnest on my first novel. If I can maintain the 500-2,000 word per day pace, I don't think it'll take me more than 6 months to finish a first draft. We'll see.

In any case, it feels good to be writing again. Well, the writing doesn't feel good, but the having written feels great. So, like most of life, it's a trade-off.

DAILY NO-SHAVE NOVEMBER PIC:


I call this look, Everybody Must Get Stoned.


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Wednesday, November 14, 2012

The No-Shave November Logs, Day 14: Accept Defeat With Dignity

The rebel in me says, Never submit! But the pragmatist in me realizes that I have no choice. For me, at least, self-publishing just isn't an option.

I've been entering my stories in the rejection circuit again. It's a process I can't help loathing, but it's the only way to get the kind of external validation my pathetically needy ego craves so badly. What can I say? I'm a modern, American male.

I've been focusing on getting one story submitted per-day for the last couple of days. I only have five finished stories - which is to say, five stories that have gone through the rewriting process enough times for the perfectionist in me to say, Well, that's the best I can do - so I should be done by the end of the week, but Nightmare Magazine claims their turnaround time is 2 days or less (unless they're seriously considering a story), so I'll probably have Monica's Portrait back by tomorrow.

Well, I gotta go. I have to call the furnace guy and work out payment, as it turns out his is the last business in America that doesn't accept credit cards. You'd think he'd mention that up-front, wouldn't you?

DAILY NO-SHAVE NOVEMBER PIC:


I call this look, Drinking Binge, Week 2.


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Monday, November 12, 2012

The No-Shave November Logs, Day 12: Fight Fire With Fire

Well, now that I've got a gaming/exercise regimen down and my hand no longer hurts, it's just about time for something else to go horribly wrong. Enter, broken furnace.

My furnace has been a headache ever since I bought this house, and of course, it's a headache that strikes at the same time every year. The repairman made it out fairly quickly, but in keeping with Murphy's Law, the warehouse he gets parts from sold the last 2 they had of whatever part my furnace desperately needs just this morning. They can get another by tomorrow afternoon, but with the snow, there are no guarantees. Fortunately, the repairman was able to get the furnace running again, and he showed me some things I can do that might keep it running for the night, but it's a band-aid fix at best, and my furnace needs stitches.

On a more positive note, I'm going to start running my stories in the rejection circuit again today. I finally found a market that looks right for my (currently) most rejected story, American Machine. So that gives me hope for the publisher to dash against the rocks of harsh reality. Yay, rejection!

I just gotta remind myself, it's not winning the race that's important, it's the running that matters.

Wow! Does that ever sound like a load of horse s*@#!

DAILY NO-SHAVE NOVEMBER PIC:


I call this look, I'm Not Gonna Kiss You Until You Shave That Off.


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Thursday, November 8, 2012

The No-Shave November Logs, Day 8: Writing Wrongs

I had my weekly writer's meeting with my friend Rob today. We get together once a week at a Taco Time near his office and talk about what we've been writing and what our goals for the week are. My goal this week is to actually write something.

Last May I started a movie review show on YouTube called Road To The Movies (CLICK HERE to go to our channel or HERE to go to our blog) and I haven't written anything but movie reviews and blog posts since. Well, I started a few short stories, but I haven't finished anything, and if you never finish it - when it comes to a story, at least - you might as well have never started it.

So tonight I write! Motivated or not, inspired or blocked, when I get home from work tonight I'm going to sit down and write until it's time to go to bed! If I do really well, I might finish this story I'm in the middle of. Then, on to my favorite part of writing: The submission process!

(Could you feel the sarcasm in that last line? Yeah, it was either that or just start cursing uncontrollably.)

Excelsior!

DAILY NO-SHAVE NOVEMBER PIC:


I call this look You Forgot To Wipe That Crap Off Your Face.


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