Monday, December 17, 2012
Monday, November 26, 2012
This past week was our big Thanksgiving fete at TASOK, dear over fed reader, and it was quite the good time. More than twenty people, six turkeys (and one of those fake ones thrown in to appease those dirty hippies), tons of extra food, wonderful company, lots of drinks and, of course, deserts. Dear God, the deserts. It was marvelous, in that artery clogging, meat sweat inducing, chest pain causing sort of way that makes it an unmistakably American holiday. I know that Canada has one too, but I assume it involves sliding down staircases on flattened cardboard boxes whilst throwing money made from pine needles and wood chips in the air as Strange Brew plays on a black and white television in the garage.
I don't have a picture for that, but it would be sweet if I did. Help me out, Ontario! Or, um, uh, Manitoba?
It got me thinking about being a world traveling man of mystery. Normally it's a great time, wherein I have lots of wacky adventures, grow absurd facial hair, almost die once a year, meet swell people, go to gorgeous new places, and hopefully one day get to bore everyone in the nursing home with stories that have by then become hopelessly confused with pop culture.
Sunday, November 18, 2012
"Wait", she asks sensually, every letter tumbling forth like a goddess rising from the spray of the sea, "What's Movember?"
Oh, surely you know, dear reader. By now, everyone must know that one.
I mean, c'mon.
"Oh, no, I really, REALLY don't." She runs a finger, pale and mysterious as the gloaming, along the inviting curve of her decolletage. "Can you tell me?" her eyelashes flutter in time with the frantic rhythm of my heartbeat. I look into her eyes, her deep, smoldering eyes.
She arches an eyebrow.
I can feel the tension buzzing through the air, begging for release. It leaves a metallic taste in my mouth, a reminder of hunger, of loneliness, of tumid thoughts rising, unbidden, to the surface.
"No. Because I'm lazy as hell. But hey, here's the link."
I throw some html code in her face as she languidly walks away, looking over her perfect shoulder at every turn.
But seriously, if you don't know, clink here and prepare to be knowledge punched. In the neck.
I have participated in Movember for three years now, and thus far this year my compatriots and I (Team Thunder- he he he) have raised almost $800 dollars and grown some awesome mustaches. If you don't believe me, check it out. I was going for the old Bully Busick look.
So click on the Team Thunder link (I love charity plugs) and give us some money, you bastards. It goes to a good cause, because who doesn't want a world filled with healthy, virile men? Other than Woody Allen of course.
If you think that men's health awareness isn't an issue, please consider this: men are really, really stupid. Don't believe me? Would a women ever say, in response to anything, "walk it off"? No, of course not. Because they aren't idiots.
How many men do you know who complain about stomach upset, vomiting, chest pains, vision trouble, random fingers cramping up and falling off, loss of teeth, loss of hearing,and wait weeks, sometimes months, to go to the doctor?
Well, at least one anyways:
The point of Movember, charitable reader, is to honor all that makes us men (other than superfluous nipples) while at the same time celebrating not being an idiot about our bodies (always a fine line between the two) so come check it out.
Man, I have done a lot of plugging lately. Hope I haven't lost you. Especially those new readers I have picked up in Uzbekistan for whatever eldritch reason.
Well, the plugging is all in the past now, because-
-oh wait, on last thing. No big deal. just THE FIRST NEW INEBRIATION RELEASE IN 18 YEARS!!!! Oh my god- a "greatest hits" album, titled 20 Years of Blood, Sweat, and Beers. Available as of today via digital download at this link. Check it out. I hope, if nothing else, that sexy female polish horde is into it.
We will return next time for our regularly scheduled dose of madness. Meanwhile, for my American friends, happy Slapsgiving!
Thursday, November 8, 2012
Okay, enough about all that- now onto me. Let's get back on track here, you bastards. In the midst of this frantic caterwauling and political breast pounding (greasy), I have had two firsts of my own. Both of them involved me bringing the thunder, although one probably tastes better than the other. This shall be a photo heavy entry, but that's because I am lazy.
One of these is true.
The first- big news: my Myanmar album (adventures in recording the first death metal album in Myanmar ever discussed here!) is finally available for the whopping price of free! Initially 30 copies were pressed and many were damaged in Cyclone Nargis, with only one left in my possession. The fact that the one I have is actually autographed, by me, and was once given as a gift to my girlfriend at the time (who totally left it behind my couch when she left Myanmar) adds an awesome back story. If she had been more supportive of the thunder (but when is thunder ever recognized in our time? Such is the cost of sexy genius), I probably wouldn't be able to offer this to you today. Head on over to the Inebriation website on Bandcamp and download forthwith. The songs have been modified for the digital format, and it comes with sexy new cover art:
The picture symbolizes what day to day existence in the Congo looks like, at least to me. Cheap plug? Oh yes indeed. But hey, it's free, so why not?
Every down loader receives either a free beer or seven pieces of cinnamon hard candy.
Secondly (as if that wasn't enough), I had a transcendent experience last week, sexy readers. For the first time in my 35 years of white trash existence I cooked something. Not just any something, mind you, but chocolate cookies (with a sprinkle of rage). I have attached some pictures so you can see the proof of my new found baking skills. Enjoy my culinary journey, free of second degree burns and those cute "flour on the nose" spots you see in every romantic comedy ever.
I gave these cookies out for Halloween. I assume the kiddos liked them because no one threw up on me afterwards. Good times were had by all, and I learned what flour does.
I wonder how much leather I can safely wear on a cooking show?
Sunday, October 21, 2012
"Matt, you want to come sit by the river with me? We can watch the water go by."
"Okay, Eli, sounds good."
"Here, you sit on this rock. See, it's warm. I'll sit on this one. Mine's warmer though."
We sat in silence for a few moments, watching branches float by.
Birds circled languidly overhead while the quarry across the river made dull pounding sounds.
Saturday, October 13, 2012
If you have an urge to cuddle after seeing this, I understand. I will charge one beer per 30 minutes.
Dingy, small, overcrowded.
Cats on the floor.
Shattered bottles glued to the tops of the walls.
Thursday, October 4, 2012
Perhaps . . . (strokes beard) . . . too long.
That's what she said.
It's the 50th blog post here in the Rage Cage (still have to make those T shirts), and to celebrate this momentous occasion I thought I would do what I do best- talk about myself. First off, I just realized I went through all of September without a blog update. What a cold, cruel month that must have been, dear reader. I hope that now you can finally open the blinds, clean the cobwebs off the mouse, and fire up your motorized beer hats (wish those existed).
I will apologize, though, as heavy hangs the head that wears the crown and all that jazz. Between figuring out my next job placement (suggestions welcome- especially from you Polish bastards), working a full time plus one teaching schedule, and coordinating the Middle School into a next millennium (an epoch filled with light, love, hole filled socks- or sock filled holes? and endless amounts of self promotion), I have had very little time for any writing beyond school related stuff. I want to sincerely apologize to my three fans for having been away for so long. By means of atonement, I hereby present the cutest dog photo ever:
Friday, August 24, 2012
Now that my MA program has finally ended my mind is free to drift towards other pursuits, as is its sexy wont. I have been getting back into writing: editing my first book and working on turning my second book up to 11. It's nice to have the time for fiction writing again between the 48 meetings I have daily as part of my new role as MS Coordinator/iron fist of sexy justice.
To celebrate that, I wrote a new story. Super short, as my stories have become over the years. One might call it refinement, but one should probably just call it abject laziness. Since my short story collections (available here! Hee hee) have sold a whopping 23 copies, I thought it'd be cool to make some available here to mark the occasion: me delivering a new masterpiece into the frothing, sweaty hands of my massive fanbase. So below I have included my two most recent tales. Read if you'd like. If you hate them, no worries. If they give you an author crush, feel free to send me tokens of esteem in the form of beer or small packets of gummy beers. Either way, I always love feedback, so tell me how great I am, or how much my writing reminds you of why some people SHOULD have their dreams crushed. Enjoy!
A story about growing up, dreams, and smoke machines. A bit PG 13.
The Speed of Light
Love, loss, and (possibly) samosas.