Link of the Mount

Link is climbing a mountain,

Why is he climbing a mountain?

Link is climbing a mountain,

Why is he climbing a mountain?

To hug the mountain,

To envelop that mountain.

To hug the mountain,

To envelop that mountain.

To hug the mountain—that mountain.

He wants to make love to the mountain.

Why does Link climb the mountain?

Because he’s in love.

 


 

Based off of Fall on Your Sword’s “Shatner of the Mount.”


 

I bought the oil canvas painting of The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild via ThinkGeek for my wife (since she’s a huge Zelda fan, and our daughter is… well… Zelda.) Anyway, I first thought while purchasing this, you know what? Shatner of the Mount… but with Link.

Lo and behold, it was on point.

So there you have it. A random post of a gorgeous, 1 of 600 oil canvas of The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild… and William Shatner… and Fall on Your Sword—all in one!

Now I have to move some other pictures around. *le sigh*

Well, until next time!

RJM

Some Updates Coming Up

Greetings and salutations, folks.

The weekend is upon us, and that means a few things.

  1. Nintendo Switch is coming out, with all those lovely titles.
  2. It’s almost Friday.
  3. We are in March now. It’s also Brain Injury Awareness Month.
  4. The work week is coming to a close for some, while it’s beginning for others.

Real quick, I wanted to say that I will be reintroducing The Diary of the Wasteland Bear GodThe Chronicles of Bob: The Chronic Suicidal, and lastly, Johnny “Nightwalker” to get some folks acquainted with these series and their story.

What I want to showcase is the evolution of:

  • Writing and its stylization.
  • The change of an idea and its evolution; i.e. how a story goes from being stupid as balls, to something serious and being enjoyed.
  • Writing on a whim. You’re doing it for the self-thrill and without giving a damn what other people could care in regards.
  • Flexing your brain! Doing some of those “brain burpees” and tapping into some hidden talent you may possess.
  • Breaking out of a mold. Sure, it’s cool following in someone’s steps, but why be their shadow? Make your own light, your way.
  • That it’s OK to be different. Embrace it. Go strange! GO WIERD! “Be anything but normal.”

I might also compile all those cool things that I did when I had “Sammy the Samsung” do predictive text and stuff, too. Good times. Again, that’s a maybe. No promises.

I will be doing updated posts for The Bear God and Johnny Nightwalker. I really wanted to take my time moving things around and seeing what I could do. There’s a long list and well, I only have two hands. Seriously, I have a 500gb drive that’s almost filled up with outlines and other writing. I’ve started migrating that as well to cloud storage, but you know, paranoia sets in. I like having hard copies and hard, hard copies. Especially, with all these leaks, drips, pipe bursts, and mass media blowouts. OK, I’m overexaggerating that last bit a lot, but you get the gist. I hope.

I will also be sharing more personal experiences in regards to my accident, depression, PTSD, anxiety, weight loss journey, and more.

So, I invite you to stick around, maybe get some snacks and a drink. Get comfy. OK, maybe not too comfy to where you’re laying in bed.

I wish you all a great weekend. Stay safe, be well, and I wish you enough.

Cheers!

RJM

Suicide: A Poem and Post

Depression, anxiety, PTSD, and other disorders. Let none rule your life and hold you down. Talk about your problems. We all live together, in one shape or form.

For several years, I’ve struggled with depression. As such, I’ve attempted suicide a few times, often to make it look like an accident. From much trauma, chaos, and disorder, I went through adolescence and went without help.

Now, after enduring with my PTSD and anxiety; coupled with depression, I sought out help. It’s taken many years and many sessions. . .but so far, so good. I’ve learned to cope, to deal, and to make the best out of things.

Everyone handles their stress, depression and such differently. It’s good to talk about things that are occurring and impacting your life. Just know this, you are not alone in the fight.


My Suicide


To some, it’s a taboo,
To others, it’s nothing new.

It’s a choice we’ve come to make,
Either to live or die.

Fake.
Cry.

Alone.
Atone.

Always putting on a front,
Being told it’s just a stunt.

It’s ours to take.
A choice.

Live.
Born.

Give.
Die.

Abstract; we live in denial,
The End, its impact; a hung jury, mistrial.

I, too, have suffered and wandered alone,
I’ve tried plenty; to also push beyond it and overcome grief.

At times, it’s gotten to be the end,
There was always a reason to stay, it was just beyond me.

Now when I look into your eyes, I know I was right,
Being led through the dark, with you as my light.

I’ve killed myself and let go,
All the feelings of pain and guilt.

No more hate or regret,
Of the things that could have, should have been.

Silhouette.
Forget.

Sin.
Has-been.

Empty words to try and make it worse,
To lay us to waste and curse—

A reminder: for we are all one in the same, just trying to make it through the day.
Don’t be scared of the darkness or give it blame, this I say.

Call it friend.

For I tell you, friend, this is not your end.
I will not influence your choice for if you are set, but let me tell you: life is a test.

Trials we must face and endure. Make the best of any situation, even in death.
For when you take your last breath, sigh in relief. Friends help friends, even strangers; close and far, through grief.

I wish you well, friend, and to those very same who may suffer alone.

Here is my hand, let me help. Here is my ear, let me listen. Here are my lips, heed my words. These are my eyes, they see you.

May you be, released from your prison. . .be free.


Originally was posted on A.B.Normal Publishing

 

Expectations

What are your expectations? It doesn’t matter if it’s in business, life, a career, sex, your spouse (or significant other/mate), food, eating out, a new video game, your president, your government, etc.

Where did you set the bar? High? Low? Somewhere in the middle? Do you set certain expectations high in your list that only you know about?

With people nowadays, you can see something like:

“10/10. Would bang again.”— Internet Troll

“Drove like a snail in rush hour traffic. Wouldn’t recommend. 1 star.”— Anon Uber App User.

or maybe something like:

“They looked great but was horrible in the sack. Also found out now I have The Clap.” — Anon, Booty Call App User

I mean, we have a president that uses Twitter to influence others; ratings can go up or tank at a single whim.

This leads to the next point: Reviews—they’re similar you know. In fact, they’re mostly just the faux mask that covers “expectations.” You are reviewing your expectations and addressing those expectations of an establishment, book, place, person, etc.

Some folks nowadays can’t function very well out in the world without the strong opinion of “the elite.” You know the folks that are on Yelp that say “Elite ’15, 16, 17,” and so on? Or “highest reviewer” accredited to their username via Google+.

No, I am not one of those folks.

There are tons of horrible people, sure. However, there are a lot of good people in the world too. We’re humans. It is expected. You can sort and sift through reviews and you get a glance—a glimmer of what type/kind of person someone is. Not only by their history of visits, purchase history, and the sort but by how you are being told how they interacted with whoever they are reviewing [this also constitutes an establishment, customer service, etc.].

“I had a bad experience here. They threatened my fish.” — Anon

“Food was horrible. I wouldn’t even consider bringing it home and giving it to my dog.” — Anon couple; I actually overheard this one.

There are millions of reviews out there. Those who feel the need to make a point. Those who must feel the need to feel needed. Those that seek others satisfaction.

Ah, the Digital Age.

The Internet is a wonderful, yet, scary place to be on. You have an insurmountable wealth of knowledge and tools. Yet we spend hundreds to thousands of hours watching cat videos. Fragging people [Nothing wrong with that, game on! And yes, that is me being bias.]. Stealing other peoples’ identity. Hacking elections. Ousting pedophiles that have horrible images on their computer drives. I can keep going.

Technology has changed us—humanity. The human race. Technology knows no racial bias (except maybe console versus PC; Sony vs. Microsoft, .etc but that’s reaching at best.). It knows what we have programmed it to be. What we want it to be. What advances we want. Cures. Curse. Death. Damage. What can we do to inflict unto others? The good intermingled with the bad and vice versa.

You may ask, “What the hell does that have to do with expectations? Why did you bring up reviews? Who the hell threatens a fish?”

Well, we expect a lot. So much from businesses, people, schools, etc. Our family. Some men expect women to put out on the first date. We expect food to be hot (or cold) and served at our preference. We expect to be put first, high up on a pedestal. Some people expect their religion is right and is superior to another person’s. We expect the loser to go home crying. . .with a participation trophy. We expect too much—as a society, a whole. It’s a path that can—and will—lead us to our downfall. We cater too much, while not giving a damn about consequences. Enter your “keyboard warriors,” cyber bullies, trolls, etc.

Great expectations.

We are not a community that is so transparent. Well, we are. . .when it comes to greed. But that’s another lengthy discussion, though. We’re not a close-knit community that really backs each other up, helps one another without expecting something in return, gratification, or simple enough—money.

Technology has sped up our dehumanization and desensitization. When we are able to truly modify our bodies as cyborgs and/or androids, will a person even care about anyone else? Would we still exist as being. . .human?

That “eternal salvation” of uploading your memories and consciousness to the Internet (Transcendence on crack), while say, a meteor that will destroy mankind indefinitely here on Earth, but elsewhere in the galaxy or universe, we are beamed via satellite signal to space and wake up in new sleek android models. It was just a few seconds in delay to us, but in actuality, it was a hell of a long time.

I digress. Simply put, times have changed. The radical evolution of societal influence and lack of actual human interaction, the lessening of empathy, lack of sympathy, morals tossed out the window, common sense that is now rare, and so on.

We often like to say that we are the superior race, especially, when it comes to man versus beast. However, are we really that much better? Cool—poseable thumbs, a large neocortex, “alleged capabilities of complex problem solving, and operating weapons of mass destruction.” Sure, I guess we are. I suppose I would say that sardonically, because I know even after we are all gone, Nature will go on without us. It has for millions of years and will.

Sure, I guess we are. I suppose I would say that sardonically because I know even after we are all gone, nature will go on without us. It has for millions of years and will continue to.

You can consider this, I suppose a young person rambling on. Perhaps. But would you disagree? That there are a lot of issues that are presented here that are of importance and relevant, that are just tossed aside like everyday refuse? Swept under the rug. Dismissed and barred from public discussion because it’s a “no-no” and would make someone else upset and they might break out the whips and chains [Not the good kind either.].

Suicide, depression, anxiety, PTSD [Post Traumatic Stress Disorder], bullying, all of these and more are getting quite out of hand. As a sufferer of one of these many. . .side effects. . .I’ve made it my way of life to explore them, help others, learn other peoples’ stories and experiences, and even just listen. We all bleed the same. We all break. When, how, and why, though will come in to question.

So, you will see posts about suicide. Depression. Anxiety. PTSD. Other mental health issues and such. Writing is my therapy. It’s my way of sharing with others. Though it may be fiction in some ways, you do not have to feel silenced, judged, oppressed. With how news, media, and press are getting gagged, misinformation everywhere, etc. What’s next? Writers of fiction and non-fiction are hunted? We’ll see, right?

While I hope to entertain people, make it my career, provide expectations, get reviewed—I do it for myself. Do you want to know who my most cynical critic and ball-breaking is? It’s me. Granted, I am changing that way to not giving a damn completely, it’s still a process. I want to write just for the pure enjoyment I get out of doing it; being a god amongst men and women, creating worlds, life. In the very same manner—becoming death, chaos, a destroyer of worlds and relationships.

I could go on and on. . .though I would like to know: what are your expectations in life right now?

I will end with one of my favorite quote from the movie Legend with Tim Curry and Tom Cruise.

“The dreams of youth are the regrets of maturity. Dreams are my speciality. Through dreams, I influence mankind.” — The Lord of Darkness; Tim Curry

I wish you all well. Be safe and take care. The world is a mess. . .but it is a beautiful mess under all those bandages.

RJM

 

P. S. While I reintroduce some works, I invite you to check out a free ebook on the Kindle store: Abnormal Side Effects. If it’s not free for your region, then I invite you to a free copy here.

Feel free to talk with me, too. I don’t bite. Too hard.

At a Bar

Empty bar stool — "Alone at Brown's Point" Photo by ingridtaylar. ingridtaylar has no affiliation with me, or A.B.Normal Publishing Media Group, nor do they support my work and/or practices.

Photo by ingridtaylar. ingridtaylar has no affiliation with me, or A.B.Normal Publishing Media Group, nor do they support my work and/or practices.

When you’re in a bar and all the loudness drowns out to silence. You’re left alone in your own thoughts—drowning not only your sorrows, but drowning in your own thoughts and feelings. You wrestle your thoughts.

Each glass (or bottle) slamming into each other, to their hopeful defeat. But each one—each one creeps up from supposed submission, and sticks its tendrils into your brain; further stirring the thought pot, the soup of contemplation.

You’ve stayed the hand of self-infliction. You’ve kept at bay the beasts of doubt, and guilt; however, guilt is a hydra, and no matter how you’ve sliced each head off, it’s come back—staying on its haunches, going for your throat. Its poison, flowing daily each day, stifling even the most positive of good, and pure.

The thoughts are murmurs now, though, do they even really exist? You eye the simplest of utensils, meant for daily nutrition—a fork and knife. It’s dull, crude, and yet realistic. Suitable for the job, you think. Life offers all its benefits, yet to one nowadays, they’re just unrealistic.

“I’ll have another,” you say. Perhaps one more beer to keep the beast at bay. It’s not just any beast. In fact, it’s far more dangerous than guilt, or doubt. Oh that suicidal kamikaze of a bitch beast, called life. It houses everything: the good, the bad, happiness, sadness—as such, a malevolent beast that you wonder, how is it exactly that you keep it suppressed, hidden from the world, for all to see.

Some could call you an alcoholic. Some could say you’re crazy. Some would say that you’re not worth the effort to fix—inefficient, ineffective, broken, a big mess that’s better off left for dead, and forgotten.

“It’s a lonely day that’s all.” You try to reason, but inside, you know it to be only half true. You feel numb. You feel cold. You want everyone to shut the hell up and go away. However, you know it to be a public setting. . .and it’s probably for the best, because you know you’d probably break. After all, it is all alone that you break.

And no matter how you try to hide it—whether it’s a smile, a joke, or comedy act. The war rages on inside. You only hope is that you can keep the beasts at bay, even for just another day.

“I’ll take that beer, and an appetizer,” you say; giving a smile, just so thereafter, they’ll go away.

Don’t worry, you think, tomorrow will be a better day.

 

Robert J. S. T. McCartney
A.B.Normal Publishing and Media Group
Other Writing