Have I ever explained just what an asshole I am? Let me throw out a bunch of complaints that are only sort of connected. What follows is a handful of things that bug me about other poly people. My hate for others let me show you it! No really, I’m just going to spew a lot of bile and contempt here.
Shall I tell you why I hate trying to read polyamory websites and forums? Because of the one-upmanship that invariably goes on. This is one of the reasons I don’t go to cons and hang out with fen anymore either. Unlike religious people though, the one upping isn’t “holier than thou” so much as it is “freakier than thou” although it comes greatly to the same thing. Someone always wants to tell you about how many lovers they have at once, and how thick their Franklin Planner is with dates and notes about who they’re dating and on what days. And it’s all to impress me, trying to look cool, and you can’t impress me by trying to be cool. I’m more impressed by someone who flat out tells me that they screw up sometimes and that they can’t get it right and that they’re worried about making mistakes than I am by someone who tries to tell me that they’ve got their shit ‘2-gether’ and particularly when I see the Franklin planner come out.
My jerkiness has a flavor!
I can’t take the people with the Franklin planners at all. If you can’t work out who you’re going to fuck and when without a planner then I’m afraid you’ve already lost so many cool points that you’ve become chilly and chilly ain’t never been cool. On the same note, if you need a chart or graph to express how you feel about someone, I want to drown you in my pond. I’m not making shit up here for comedic effect, I’ve seen the charts and the lines coded with different colors of highlighter. The Franklin planner has always looked like a shield to me, a prop to show off. I know it has to be a prop because I’ve known people who had 2 planners, one for poly-life, one for normal life. Like they want me to know that they’ve got so much going on in their pants that they need a planner to keep track of how many and how often. That just doesn’t impress me. I think because at my most active, I never needed a piece of paper or a chart or even a roll of yellow and black tape to show what areas are off limits. In fact, even now I can manage to remember everyone without notes.
And I know this one will ruffle some feathers, but words fail to properly describe just how much I hate terms like primary and secondary when you’re talking about people you’re close enough to know what they look like when they wake up in the morning. I really, genuinely hate all that hierarchy shit. You know who my primary is? The person I’m with at that moment. If I’m having sex with someone, they are my primary partner right then. No one else exists in the world, but them. If I’m talking to someone, even someone I’m not intimate with, they become my primary because I focus all my attention on them. I don’t sit around and talk to someone all the while thinking about talking to someone else.
I devote attention to people, I try to remember all the little details. It’s called giving a shit about people and I take it seriously.
Yes, you might claim I tap danced into a mine field, but then everything worth while carries risk. I would like to point out that there is no safety, just different levels of ignorance toward risk. I encourage you to really check up on risk assessments sometime, it’ll have one of two effects, you’ll either sit in your room (not sucking your thumb because you’ll know how many germs that has) being semi-catatonic or you’ll decide that death’s going to get you at some point and you might as well tap dance. What’s the phrase? I’d rather live one day as a lion than a lifetime as a lamb I think. I know some people who would say tiger, and one person who insists that it’s an eagle, but she’s eagle obsessed. And, for all the mines, I’m still here dancing. You’ve just got to know where they’re likely to be buried is all, and pay attention.
What was I talking about? No, before I got on the subject of those fucking Franklin planner people who wanted a prop to go with their sexual extravagance.
Right, right, one-upmanship.
That, my sweet darlings, is a pointless fucking endeavor. Because no matter how freaky you think you get on Saturday night, you don’t get as freaky as some. If you have two lovers, someone else has five. If you’re into being whipped, someone else is into cutting. If you’re into cutting, someone else is into cutting bits of themselves in half and shit. Some people are even into bisecting their naughty bits. And if you’re into that, someone else is into full amputation. AND! If you cut off your thumb, someone else cut off theirs, made a video of them doing it and posted it on the internet.
You can’t win, see? First off, no one can win the one-up game anyway because if you become the top of the heap, someone else will outdo you just so they can be the top for a while before someone shoves them off. Second off, winning at one-upmanship means all you did was prove to me you can be more pathetically needy and hungry for attention than the last needy pathetic attention seeker who I just got away from.
The third is that suddenly inserting examples of what a Freaky Freakerson you are only leaves me with the statement “You’ve been dying to tell me that for hours, haven’t you?” falling from my lips because while I haven’t done everything I’ve done enough things that freaky has become routine. Seriously, you’ve got to go pretty far outside the norm to squick me and you’ve got to fit extraordinarily rigid guidelines to be relevant to my interests and thus excite me. Besides, as many people who know me in person will tell you, I’m so emotionally cold the only thing that excites me is a hammer to the face or a new Scorsese picture. Seriously, the only way I can come is to be hit by a bus.
As a result of the freakish being normal, trying to impress me by throwing off random freak-facts as if you’re being casual about it but really doing it to tell me how cool you are just makes me want to walk away and scream into the empty void that is my faith in humanity. I’m just not impressed by people trying to be cool, or clever, or hip, or hot. This is particularly bad if you’re like me and can often hear the lame and predictable joke three seconds before it’s said (not psychic powers, just very good at reading people and predicting their next move) and really bad if you know me well enough to see my face after they’ve said the predicted joke and know what that dead-eyed look means. I mean, apart from my other dead-eyed looks. Each one is different, collect them all kids!
Shall I tell you what does impress me? Should I go there? I mean do I really want to tell you what the Teacher’s Edition of my mind says in this instance?
Well I won’t suggest honesty, that’s too hard a concept. I don’t mean that cynically, I mean it’s too hard a concept to properly define. How honest is honest? Does a person lay out everything they’ve done in a first encounter? No, obviously not. If you do that you just end up being some kind of damn freak that no one wants to talk to, least of all me. Actually, you become more of an attention seeker than the previous attention seekers I’ve mentioned. In fact, too much honesty is sort of the problem. In many ways, being completely and totally honest is just another fraud, since most people don’t just lay it out like that. There does come a time and a place for résumé swapping, and it should probably be prior to fluid swapping, but I don’t think first encounters are the place. The attention seeking quotient is too high.
No I’d like to hear less honesty and see more. Don’t tell me what a freak you are, don’t even really show me, let me work it out for myself. Any legitimate freakiness will come up in conversation, given my habits it will come up sooner than you think. I have a way of asking hugely inappropriate questions just because people will usually answer things honestly if you blindside them. Then of course I have a memory that remembers things forever. Yeah, I know which of you are into what! You’re mothers would be ashamed.
And while I’ve got you here, and I’m in full bitch and whine mode, Unicorns. No seriously, fuck people for complaining about every aspect of this idea. Fuck people looking for unicorns, fuck people wanting to be unicorns and fuck people who want to complain about the first two right in the ear and scramble their brains.
If you are unaware, and have read this far, a unicorn is defined by the poly community as a young, hot bi-babe who is willing to join a couple as a living Real Doll. She’s just a plaything, not a serious member of the relationship, she goes away when the in-laws come over, she does dishes, and she watches the kids when the married couple goes out. In return she gets to be part of an awesome relationship, get showered with gifts, and not have to worry about… like stuff. That’s the theory anyway. People looking for a hot bi-babe to “save our marriage” or “come join the fun” or whatever phraseology they use are called Unicorn Hunters.
Now here is my problem with people bitching about that. The situation I just described is more or less my first truly poly experience. The Unicorn in question got scared and ran off about the time that we were thinking maybe the whole thing should be taken seriously and not treated as a bed-romp experience. Had we continued the bed-romping and not tried to get serious, who knows what would have happened? My second reason is that for a good long while there I seem to have some magical amulet that attracted girls like this. Maybe my after shave smells like a virgin tied to a tree, I don’t know. I have pretty rigorous standards, mainly avoiding crazy where and when I can, so most of them didn’t even get to the stage of meeting either Syd or Syd and Hol when there were the two of them. Seriously, I’ve turned down more three ways (with totally psycho chicks mind you) than you’ve had hot dinners. This was not hunting, this was wondering when a gryphon going to show up and being slightly worried about what a gryphon would turn out to be.
In fact, I’m fairly certain that I could put out a call for a unicorn and get at least two interested replies. I’m not saying that they would come to anything, but I am sure I would get “I might be interested” from at least two girls and possibly one guy who is trying to take the unicorn metaphor into new and interesting territory while following mythology pretty rigidly. After that, it would simply be a matter of working out airfare. I’m pretty sure my penchant for saying things like “Unicorn wanted for conversion to full grown up human being status in a real live relationship” would probably have some influence, but the point would be I could get at least a couple of girls asking if they could submit applications.
That’s not a subtle way of announcing a casting call by the way. If I announce a casting call I’ll just come out and say it. We’re always putting applications on file though, psychos need not apply.
In closing, I would just like to say that Falco never saw it coming and the world is a darker place without him in it.
This has been cut and pasted from my LiveJournal posting, so excuse me if some of the information seems reduntant to you reading here.
Okay! First things first.
1. I will not be doing a NaNoWriMo project this year.
2. There will not be a new Jack Collier story this December.
3. I’m going to totally change how I post fiction on the internet.
Now for the good news. The reasons for the first three are as follows.
1. I’ve got enough projects going right now thanks.
2. There is a new story that’s going to start in November.
3. You won’t have to wait so long between your next fix for new Jack stuff.
Now for a fuller explanation.
1. I’m writing (or rather re-writing) the story that I was so hot for in September before my computer crashed. You may remember that I was very excited about the whole thing. My friend Sarah and I are just now editing the first four Jack Collier Stories, which probably means we won’t have them all done by Thanksgiving like I wanted. She might have her part done, but I doubt I’ll get my half done by then. If I do get it done, I’m going to get the first four stories sent to an On-Demand printer so those of you who want a paper copy can have one. This will be going on between other things I’m doing. So, no time for
love Dr. Jones a new story.
2. Christmas Noir, the first story, will be reposted in its new form. The new title is Hard Boiled Christmas and you will have three options if you want to read it. I’ve got versions of I’ll come up with something in a minute over at WordPress and Blogger, and I’ll be posting the new story at those two locations starting December 1st. The third option is that I have set up a new LJ just for the man himself. If you you LiveJournal, you can friend Jack Collier which where the new version of the story is going to be posted as well. Or you can just keep reading here. When done, I’m also going to be posting Wonderland, Liberty’s Child and In the Cabinet in their cleaned up versions there and here as well.
3. The new story (which still doesn’t have a proper title) is going to be posted in my LJ, but I’m going to try a new tactic. The new story is going to start in November, and instead of posting a piece every day, I’m going to do it once a week. The new story is seven parts long, about five pages each. I think if I post on the weekend then you can read at your leisure. We’ll see how that goes. If it works, the even newer story (the one I’m working on now) will be posted in a similar fashion, only it’ll take longer than 7 weeks because the new-new story is longer. I’m also thinking that after HBC I’m going to post the re-furbished stories on a weekly basis too. I haven’t decided yet.
These new stories though… they’re different.
Particularly the short one for November, it’s not going to be what you’d expect. Well, the three people I asked to read it so I could bounce the idea off them, they know what to expect. That should be a shock, or maybe not. I haven’t let anyone pre-read any of the Jack stuff before this, but this one made me a little nervous so I needed a few extra nods of approval. Good thing I did too, saved that story from having to be re-written, which is something I don’t think I could have done frankly.
And who knows, maybe after I’ve done all that I’ll even get my gumption together and send a book out to get rejected by dozens and dozens of publishers and/or agents! Who knows, right?
Yeah, probably not.
I would have known this story was bullshit earlier if I’d know that the part of town she got “mugged” in was Pittsburgh’s Little Italy. Even knowing that I was suspicious. It’s easy to say “bullshit” now, but I’ve been busy all day and details were amazingly hard to find because only two or three places were touching this story with a ten foot pole. I wanted to have details before making up my mind as to whether or not this story was indeed the bullshit it has proved to be.
Part one: Does this even sound a little plausible?
Does a black man tend to go into Little Italy at night? I don’t think so. We’ve got Greektown in Detroit, but I assume it works the same way. Those spots are filled with some racist motherfuckers. Just truth I’m spewing here. In fact, someone from that area says that they don’t.
Does a black man go into Little Italy at night to mug a white woman? I doubt it. You could walk down the street in Greektown naked but for a thong made of hundred dollar bills and no one would bother you. The Greeks of Greektown, they don’t like a fuss. I’ve been told most the Little Italy’s in this great nation are the same. Crime is low for outsiders in these places. Chinatowns tend to get the same thing. Crime doesn’t happen to the honkeys in those places, like ever.
NOW! Does a black man go into Little Italy, at night, to mug a white woman, and then decide to attack her based on her political views? I can’t rightly say, I’ve never been mugged myself. I’ve always looked like the sort you maybe don’t want to bother. However, I can’t imagine you’re average mugger being a political animal. I can’t imagine a man who has decided to hold you up for money saying, “Since I’ve got you here, how do you feel the free market structure has affected the economy? Are you in favor of Greenspan’s hands off approach to regulation? Do you think I would be here mugging you under a different economic system?” I’ve always seen the relationship as a very simple one. A guy points a weapon at you and demands money, you give him money, you both run away. I sort of doubt that having gotten the money the guy would then raise his stakes and go for battery to mix with the assault charge.
Part Two: I’ve seen the real thing.
Okay, so I’ve been a bad, bad person in the past. For good reasons, all in a good cause, but I have been a mean motherfucker. I have gone and talked to the boyfriend of the girl who’s hair I stroked and who’s eye I put ice on and had a conversation with him. A conversation can be a person talking to another person, the other person doesn’t really have to say anything beyond “Yes, I’ll never go near her again, please stop slamming my head in the door now!” Not all my friends have always been what you would call good judges of character. Not their fault, they were young.
So I’ve seen abuse, close up. I’ve seen what being smacked around by a not so strong teenager can look like. It doesn’t look like that in my experience. I’ve actually had a black eye like that myself once. It’s embarrassing to tell you, but I actually did walk into a door. Well, actually I bent over and smacked my face on a half fridge door and got a cut jut above my eyebrow and blackened my eye a little. Fortunately, no one thought I was lying because no one could believe a guy would make up such a lame lie.
So, I’ve seen what one on one contact of the variety described here looks like.
Now the other half is that I’ve known a person who decided to smack herself around and try and blame her father. She smacked her face into a table a couple of times, which produced some bruises around her face. Long thin bruises that looked like she’d smacked her face into the side of a table a couple of times. She also refused to let a doctor look at her until social workers demanded it so they could properly charge her father with abuse. She fell apart pretty quickly too. It’s an attention seeking ploy, I would not be surprised if this woman has done this in the past.
I have known these people, I have dealt with their drama, I have eaten their pain.
And you folks wonder why I never leave the house? Pfui!
Part Three: How dare they?
Seriously, a big black man attacking a poor defenseless white woman who just wants to work for McCain? When republicans are actually attacking reporters and people against Prop 8, when they really are slashing people’s tires, when they really are putting up lynched effigies of Obama and replacing Obama signs with confederate flags? Now they invent a story about a big black phantom who attacks white women while delivering political sermons? How fucking dare they?
It’s not bad enough she lied about being attacked, but she had to make it a black man who robs people and then decides to go for the gusto after realizing the person he robbed is a McCain supporter? Just, fucking disgusting!
A 6 foot tall 220 pound black man has a lot more to fear from a 100 pound white woman than the other way around. The black man knows he’s marked from the beginning. If some asshole who so much as wearing the same color shoes as he is pulled something he could get arrested, beaten, maybe even killed. To invent that sort of story is just beyond the pale.
And the McCain camp jumped right on it. They couldn’t get the word “mutilated” out there fast enough. Not bad enough they decide to prop up an obviously false story, they decide to turn it into “They’re KILLING our women RIGHT NOW!” sort of hateful bullshit. You know, real Americans, pro-America Americans, the Americans that like-likes America don’t need this kind of bullshit.
Fucking racist assholes sling their bullshit at real Americans? Fuckers.
If I wrote bullshit four hundred and eighty-seven times, we might begin to approach how much bullshit this encases. And this is pure bullshit, don’t think we’d put any pig crap in there as filler.
Fancy and I have standards!
You know what I don’t get?
I don’t get the hate for the Twilight series from guys my age. I’ve seen a bunch of screeds against it in the last couple of days and it always seems to be A) a Male and B) around my age or older. Now first, why is a 35 year old man even reading Twilight? That is so far out of the demographic that it makes my head hurt. I mean it’s written for 15 year old girls, isn’t it? Wishing no offense to those of you who are openly this way, all the scenarios I’ve been able to come up with for why these guys are reading these books and then complaining about them end with the word “swishy” or some other such pejorative.
And then they act like this is the dumbest book series that has ever been invented and then complain that now they’re making a movie out of it. Then they go on about how the character arcs are too involved and they won’t be able to fit the internal monologues into the movie and I’m back at the word “swishy” to define them.
Seriously guys, telling me how dumb they are and why they’re dumb won’t make me rethink kicking you out of Club Hetro. You read the books, you then tried to pretend you didn’t really like them, you can just stay in that closet with your shoes. You can’t complain the gay away. If you touched one of those tainted books for any other reason than to get the super manly Jack Higgins book under it, never mind actually opening and reading it, then you are lost to me.
Actually, I should be careful about that, I know at least one gay man who might just kick my ass for suggesting that homosexuals would read vampire romances instead of the Ian Fleming and Raymond Chandler he actually reads. He insists that Bond is a total closet case and he may have a point. Still, it’s an easy foil for straight men.
Also, while I’m being outrageously offensive anyway, I fucked your dad and made your momma watch.
See, I know nothing about the books besides what Syd has told me. I’ve spent all my time watching Dirty Harry movies, reading Mickey Spillane novels and playing Halo so I don’t have time to read about vampires anymore. I’ve also been lifting weights, talking to other guys about boobies and looking at naked girls on the internet. You know, manly stuff.
Actually, the reason I haven’t read them is because I’m just so totally not the demographic and what I’ve heard about them hasn’t made me want to read them. I will freely admit I don’t get the whole vampire erotica thing, that’s between ya’ll girls and those guys among you who are into the vampire thing.
It’s actually been very easy to avoid these books really. Syd borrowed some from a co-worker, and upon reading the first one declared it to be crap. She then read the rest of them because she said they were “fun crap” and that made it okay. They’re vampire romance novels, and more Mary-Sued up the ass than Harry Potter was. So why would I read them? I mean, romance novels are kind of a no-go territory in the first place and vampires haven’t been in the least bit interesting to me since the genre splintered into the “Girly-man” variety of Anne Rice and the “Kung-Fu banana” crap of the Blade movies.
So you see, I haven’t read these books because I’m a guy. However! I’ve already admitted to reading Jack Higgins books, which I’m willing to bet good money aren’t any better than the Twilight books. I’m not willing to read the Twilight books to compare, but I’ve read enough crap to be able to know something is crap just by looking at the face of someone reading it.
But what’s wrong with crap? Mark Twain wasn’t any kind of darling of the literary community until the end of his career, well after his reputation was secured through sheer volume of sales, and then he was simply looked on as a sort of National Treasure. Twain wrote what was considered at the time to be populist crap. It seems to have done quite well though. A lot of people liked it then and seem to like it now. I like all sorts of pulp stories, and there is a lot of crap there. Let’s not pretend, for every Hammett or Chandler there are at least three dozen no name guys who deserve to be forgotten forever. So long as it doesn’t make up the whole of your diet, literary crap is fine. It’s like a nice piece of cake.
I’ve gotten a little off my point here, which is okay if you’ve got that kind of time. Still, why are guys my age complaining about a book written for their daughters (holy crap! Guys about my age have 13-16 year old daughters) and complaining in such a way that it becomes obvious that they’ve read the whole series? I only find myself asking why they kept reading if it was so terrible and it was so offensively bad, and then I start to think that maybe miss thang protests too much.
Really though, I don’t get the hate. If it’s a dumb series than so what? I know a few people have put it on a pedestal, or at least I have been told. I’ve never met anyone who didn’t say that they found the books to be fun crap, but they have said they know people who took them seriously. Hey, whatever. Takes all kinds to make a world.
My point is that I don’t get the hate for this series. I particularly don’t get it because so much of it seems to be attacking the books for being what they are, fluffy insipid vampire pron for the bobby-sock set. By all reports, these books do what the audience wants and… why are you looking at me like that? Bobby-socks… yeah, it’s a real term. Teenage girls wore them with saddle shoes in the forties. Don’t look at me like that! Chicks still wear them now. You know what? Fuck it! I’m not explaining my references anymore.
Okay, watch this ad…
I see what they’re trying to do… but this ad is so keenly alive and exuberant. Actually, it’s not bad, it just seems like it needed three more meetings and maybe actually talk to a member of the target audience and see what they thought.
I think it’s because it comes from the Ad Council, who I wouldn’t trust to inform kids of the importance of not setting their genitals on fire for fear they’d do such a ham handed job of it that crotch fires would go from .01% of the under 18 population to 80% in a couple of days. Mostly I state this because besides one or two, (The crash dummies really) almost all their ads are either so damn square they have no impact or they’re so over the top and they exaggerate so much that no one would ever listen to them. Most their drugs ones are just a bad joke.
This one is fairly straight forward, but “knock it off” sort of sounds like something your mom would say. You might as well shout “Hey! You kids still use that hep-lingo right? You use those groovy phrases, right? Totally tubular and radical!” to them and see how far that gets you.
Also, you know, fuck the Ad Council because they rejected my anti-smoking idea.
It was really simple too.
Then you show a shot of someone coughing VO: “Emphysema”
Show a guy smoking in a crowded restaurant next to a guy dressed like Travis Bickle.
VO: “People armed with Colt 1911 .45 automatics.”
Focus on the Travis wanna-be as pulls out the gun and fires five rounds off screen. He then looks at the Camera.
Travis: “Smoking. It’ll fuckin’ kill ya.”
Then a black screen with red CG and the VO reads “Smoking: It’ll fuckin’ kill ya!”
And that nearly Shakespearean piece of brilliance was turned down! Can you believe that shit? You could bleep out the fucks! Never even got made for a rough cut. I suppose I shouldn’t let it bother me, I mean PSA’s are all pretty keenly alive and exuberant anyway. But I got an award… for
Norway a PSA once and it stings seeing bad ones made when R-Man* hasn’t been picked up by the big guys.
*A super hero that tells people about recycling, again WTF?! Why is this not their flagship character?
And again, should I have have used this one as the header? I don’t know.
You know in this entire election cycle, I’ve still not heard what either candidate will do in case of a Zompocalypse.
No one has fully addressed the menace of Space Nazis either.
And Cthulu? Hasn’t even been brought up.
However, since I filled in my ballot and mailed it back already, I don’t care anymore.