I am disappointed in myself--turns out the Monument has been open all of this time, and more days per week, too. The reason I was unaware of this is because of the bizarre hours--it opens for climbing at 1. What opens at 1? Wouldn't a lot of people be over there in the morning as opposed to the afternoon? But--my fault. I do a lot in the mornings. I will do more in a given morning than anyone else in publishing will do in a year. Work-wise. The stairs are also done in the morning, most of the time. I will adjust and devote myself to the Monument again. My goal as of tonight is to be up to ten straight climbs by the end of the month. I am in essence starting over again.
I didn't run stairs at Government Center yesterday. I did do 100 push-ups. I also didn't run any stairs on the first of the year, but I did do 1000 push-ups that day, in about three hours. Most days going back to the end of the year, I have ran 3000 stairs and done 100 push-ups. One of the days this year was 5000 stairs and one had 200 push-ups.
I sent something to a bigot simply so I could put the bigot on here and say, "here is the final letter. Here is what happened prior to that. Here's what was offered, here's what they run. This was the final story that I sent. Here was the accounting of the proof of what I'd recently done." As part of the exposure process. And ending the bigots. I will then show what work they do run and put that next to my work. Everyone will see how awful that other piece was. I will then give the reasons why they ran it--and I always know. Not in some general way. I know the exact, specific reasons why for that person in that case. I know how it went down, and it had nothing to do with a level playing field, merit, anything like that. Always cronyism, the hook-up, and bad writing. No exceptions. The evidence of the discrimination and bigotry will be indisputable, and there is nothing this person will be able to say, because it will all be true, and they will also know it to be true, as will everyone else. Ultimately, this will be all they are ever known for. Then again, I am the only reason others will know they ever existed. They were in this record. And eventually they were gone.
The word for this year is "systematic."
I put together a pitch for a big piece, but the person in question stopped doing their job over a year ago, and now coasts and cuts corners. They assign things to me and don't run some of them, which costs me time, effort, energy, and money. They are not short pieces--they would take someone else months to do. The pay is horrible to being with. In one case, they had a piece that was supposed to run at Christmas 2021, but they couldn't get their act together in time. Amazingly, they failed to get their act together in time to run the piece for Christmas 2022. There is much I could say about this person and their shirking, but I will hold off for now. I give every chance. I've also been very kind to this person and offered to help them out apart from work. They didn't so much as say thank you. They travel a lot, make good money. Live the life and live in a very expensive place. And I am made to pay. I asked for some basic courtesy in this new year--I put this so nicely, "If you could maybe try and blank when you get a chance, I know you're so busy, it would mean an awful lot to me," etc.--and have been ignored since then.
I am sure they hold it against me what I do. Constantly. How much of it I do. The range of it. The quality of all of it. (Plus, we have some overlapping interests, and that's never good for me, because I go out and do my thing--despite having an industry against me--and that creates friction and envy. When it ceases to matter that an industry was against me--and it will--I will be wall to wall. The work will be wall to wall. My words will be wall to wall. My voice. There will be no getting away from me in any corner. I may be all that is read, with so many works in so many areas, for so many demographics, and no one will be able to say, "Well, this over here by this other person is better," because there's nothing like that and there isn't anyone who honestly believes there is. And I seem so tireless, to have so much energy, to be this force, to never stop, and like I'm always awake, always full of life, and people get older and they creak and they want to slow down and they get to be that way awfully, awfully early in life, and here I am, flying around everywhere. Thinking about me feels exhausting to many people.) That puts someone in opposition to me. Even people "on my side." I shame them. Not with anything I say. By my example. The work, more than anything. And even by my kindness. I would never act the way any of these people act. And someone like this is far and away the best of them.
I have written two stories this year, but they need work. I started another. I have been working through two science fiction stories in my head. One is about bullies, the other has to do with a ground observation corps. I've been diligently working through two other stories--one is a mountain horror story, but done my way, so it's completely different, and the other is a New Year's Eve story about a brother and a sister.
I'm drinking more water. Trying to do three liters a day. Read that study about water intake and length of life. Seems that there's no denying the role that water can play. I have to control everything that I can right now, and this is one of those things. Later there will be more things I can control, bordering on all, and be in the realm of most. But I won't get there without controlling what I can now. That means taking care of my heart, among other things.
After growing out my hair for nine months or whatever it was, I went to the barber Thursday with long hair and stepped back outside with very little hair. There are no scissors, save those scissors that thin the hair which are applied at the end. My hair is thick. It is simply the number three and the number one for the razor settings.
This is a radio interview I gave on Tuesday in which I discussed Little Eva's "Keep Your Hands Off My Baby" and the Beatles January 1963 BBC cover of the number, the Night Beat episode, "I Wish You Were Dead," the 1988 TV adaptation of W.W. Jacobs' "The Monkey's Paw," my workout out regimen, the difference between jealousy and envy, how life functions in the creation of stories, James Stewart and Elmer Fudd.
Every time I talk on the radio, it is a work of art. No? What is it then? What's like that? Who talks that way? Whose mind functions in that manner with the mind on display? It's a performance piece that can change your life. Go listen to someone else. Anyone else. Do a comparison. Pick any person who speaks on radio or podcasts. There is no comparison. That's not me doing anything but saying the obvious truth. I'm not supposed to say the obvious truth? There's a rule against that? This is all happening to me because that is the obvious truth. One will note that there is no push back that, hey, this guy isn't the best writer we've all ever seen, he's not the best artist there has ever been. There would be. Because these people hate me and want me dead. And there is no one claiming anywhere that these things that are clearly true are not true. There's a lot of fear--it's terror--and a lot of envy and a lot of hate. But there is no one who can go out there and say I'm anything other than what I am, without looking utterly foolish and unstable.
Have been coming up with ideas for pieces for Easter, Thanksgiving, Christmas. If I am still in this situation. If I'm not, I won't need to write them. If I am, I'll have to. I'll keep planning and doing what I need to do until things are different.
I don't single out entries on here--this is not my real work, though it is a work of art and literature unlike anything else there has ever been--but those on prayer and meatheads to start the year were strong. How long has religion been around? And there hasn't been anything written like that entry. There has never been anything that addresses what prayer really is in that manner. Nothing has come from the Vatican that addresses what prayer really is like that. Boom. There it is. And the football entry is dead on, a completely true satirical skewering and I'd like to see Swift get close to it. Refute a single word of it. Go for it. Try. Stand in and throw with me. Then there is the Beatles book proposal, which I am sure produced the usual note of hate and envy from some low-level press that publishes losers who have done nothing in their lives and have no ability, which is part of the reason why I put the letter up on here. Because I will open that note and it will say exactly what I suspect it will say, and then away we go with holding people accountable until the incompetence and discrimination stops. As I said, systematic.
I pitched a comprehensive piece about King Oliver in 1923, which is when jazz changed, in large part because of the recordings he made that year. Jazz was "lite" dance music, and also a kind of novelty music--you got songs that featured imitations of barnyard animals, for instance. It wasn't meant to be taken very seriously. Certainly it wasn't meant to be listened to. Oliver changed that with his recordings 100 years ago. That was the switch. A lot of what happened after wouldn't have happened the same way if King Oliver hadn't been what he was in 1923.
Listening to the Vines' "Get Free" before the sun comes up. Let's make some art.