I went to get that new enhanced driver’s license today – something which requires two proofs of address, passport, green card and social insurance card, to say nothing of the undisclosed number of unmarked bills, blood and Stem cell samples. This was my third attempt. A guy stood wavering at the entrance and then puked on the sidewalk. It didn’t seem like a big deal to him, more like he was spitting. The woman at the front door was very nice and upbeat and steered me to Counter 30. I thought that I might actually get my enhanced license, and the counterperson made me even more confident. She accepted my unopened utility bill and asked for my Social Insurance Card. I had forgotten that. I would return. That’s what I told myself as I sat down at my desk and realized I had forgot my glasses on the counter.
Expunged from “Aqaara”
Fragments are getting set adrift from Aqaara as I trudge through Draft One:
“Lying to your maker, Em. That won’t get you anywhere.”
“I miss you, Dee. I really do. I look forward to seeing you. I think about coming here. I look forward to coming here to see you and my cat.” Em opened her Bearing, glancing through the images. “And then I don’t.”
“There’s nothing worse than high expectations.”
“I keep mine very low.”
“This is cellular,” Liyuan interjected. “This exchange, all of this is cellular. That’s who is speaking to each other, your cells.”
“Ignore him,”’ Dee replied. “And tell us about your politics. They make you a senator yet?”
“Lai got me an Ethi for a present.”
“What do you get out of it? To do your bidding?”
“Her name’s Emma.”
“I mean, what’s the point of it? Does it tell you how great you are?”
“Dee, why don’t I bring Emma here so you can insult her, like you do with me.”
“Insult you? Em, I only talk to you like you were me.”
“That’s it, isn’t it?”
Moby Dick: Learning Through Herman Melville
A few things I’ve gleaned from the opening 100 pages of Melville’s opus:
- Maritime jargon such as “lee of land” and handspike.
- Surprisingly non-traditional views espoused by Ishmael: What is worship? To do the will of God. That is worship. And what is the will of God? To do to my fellow man what I would have my fellow man to do to me. That is the will of God. Now, Queequeg is my fellow man. And what do I wish this Queequeg would do to me? Why, unite with me in my particular form of worship. Consequently, I must then unite with him in his; ergo, I must turn idolator.
- Building a story takes time. Captain Ahab does not appear until page 85, with Moby Dick not even on the horizon.
- That said, Mr. Melville also would have benefited from an editor.
Top Ten Film Disappointments
Life is full of disappointment, people letting you down, letting yourself down. It’s a shame that the place I seek solace from this – film – offers the same:
Toklat (Robert Davison, Sweden, 1971) The first film I ever saw in a theater, and it was awful. Shots of a bear randomly stitched together. Yes, disappointment starts early.
Juggernaut (Richard Lester, UK, 1974) Advertised as an edge-of-your-seat thriller but in reality was all talk and no action. Terrible fare for a 11-year-old.
Sorcerer (William Friedkin, USA, 1977) I have never been more excited for a film, nor more disappointed. The poster was the best part. 
Southern Comfort (Walter Hill, USA, 1981) A bunch of guys wandering around in a swamp. Sounds existential but not.
Conan The Barbarian (John Milius, USA, 1982) The prototype for why all comic books fail on the screen.
Return of the Jedi (George Lucas, USA, 1983) The only thing worse than an Ewok is a Jar Jar.
Legend (Ridley Scott, USA, 1986) Alien, Blade Runner…and then this?!? 
Aliens (James Cameron, USA, 1986) How to Ruin a Franchise 101.
The Godfather III (Francis Ford Coppola, USA, 1990) Not as bad as everyone says, but Ms. Coppola is. I also had a guy behind me explaining Godfathers I & II to his girlfriend. 
Inherent Vice (Paul Thomas Anderson, USA, 2014) The problem with a high bar is that you have to maintain it. (See also Woody Allen, post-2000)
Make Up Your Mind, Stubhub!
Stubhub messed up. Sold me tickets for the Inter-Milan Derby and then didn’t send anything. After three weeks of emails and one hand-written letter later, I got this: 
And then I got this: 
Not sure what it all means.
My Website’s Huddles
Hi McPhedranbadside Team. It’s a pleasure to be in touch with you. I have observed your website is facing huddles in getting online visibility and traffic. To be honest, this situation is most foul and disturbing for all of us in virtual limbo. Mutually, we can overcome the major obstacles which you might be facing by bonding together with love and hope. 
The factors such as HTML errors, proper keyword alignment, unique contents, social media presence will be addressed as I do my parents on their deathbed. Let’s improve your Google rankings as well as your deep feeling of inadequacy and fix up an appointment with one of my certified servants for a free consultation that will cost you terribly in the end and ultimately achieve nothing.
Ash: The Jeeves of Porn
Jerry Seinfeld once quipped that naming your child Jeeves doomed him to the life of a butler. It appears that the prefix of ‘Ash’ predestines one for porn.
Duffer Brothers: More Derivative Than Strange
I fell victim to the hype of Stranger Things (Duffer Brothers) which isn’t so much of an homage to the 1980s as a compilation of derivatives. 
Truth be known it is nothing more than bits of E.T. (Misfit kids on bikes) glued to Close Encounters of the Third Kind (Crazy parent who knows the truth), Poltergeist (Portal to monster world) and Minority Report (Innocent conduit in water). 
To say nothing of Little Shop of Horrors (Man-eating plant-faced monster) and Under the Skin (Pitch black other-world). 
The worse of all though would have to be setting it in Hawking, Indiana, a tip of the hat to the father of alternate universes? Can the eggs get any more rotten than this? (No.)
“All In” Trilogy: Teetering on the Edge
I titled my second trilogy All In, long before General Petraeus’ ballyhooed biography, Chris Hayes’ tedious MSN programming or the latest Marvel extravaganza. 
The first section begins on the Christmas Eve of 2001, a man teetering out of control following the loss of his brother on 9/11:
There’s just these bits of blackness, and that makes it hard to put everything together. I can see the building on fire and the back of the plane melt in, gone, just sucked in like that, like nothing, and the windows down and the glass and water and me. It is all wall and window, nothing below. I am coming up, all of it hard. I want it. This is what I want. I am in hard. I am not half folded. I am not waiting. I am not holding to anything.
I am of this wall, and it all comes down on me, not small or big, not anything, all in my head arched back, my whole fucking body out in light, gone through me, gone through everything, high, released, out from her, not for anything, but hard. I don’t know how much I can really take of this. I’m stuck out. Yes, it’s a story, and, yes, he’s here with me, and this is it. I was going to call Robin, and then the phone rang. I wasn’t going to answer. “Hello?”
The second section follows the daughter, the third section, the widow, as everyone drifts toward isolation until a Christmas dinner one year later.
Interested?
So, yeah, I’m a bit of a shit-disturber, childish too, but childlike, afraid to fail, freaky, cartoonish, self-serving, self-pleasing, demanding, lying, sinning cheater.
I tend toward hyper-focus (and not), being a loner, resister and hiker, but more than anything I’m a confused existential sensualist who tends toward drink and judgement.Interested?
Interested?