Month: February 2021

The art of the mystery in fiction and otherwise (writing craft) A lesson from Sherlock Holmes

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I have weird periods now where I can go months without reading anything new but one series of books and stories.

Sherlock Holmes.

I’m not even that much a mystery buff but the style of stories and the way the mystery for each tale is laid out aways pulls back to reading SH adventures.

I just like the way the mystery is laid out. You the reader are presented the tale and put on the road to discovering what the answer to the mystery at a great pace nothing is given away until the last possible moment.

Side note: I hate mysteries or stories where you feel no give a damn about because the mystery is just filler for the charecter.

I find myself thinking about this a lot now that I’m writing my own set of mystery tales that are charecter driven.

You (the writer) create a charecter the fiction world presents him a problem and the world raises the takes for him making it personal for him to discover or uncover what the hell is going on. You (the reader) him (the character) are on a journey of discovery and adventure.

I find myself as the writer having a cloudy vision for what the hell is going to happen when the focus is on character. That’s a problem for me though I know the ending.

The beginning is a sun raise and the ending is a sun set but the shit that happens in the middle always frustrates me. You don’t know what will happen in the middle to connect it all. It is the challenge of mystery or writing fiction for me.

Hot damn! What a time to be alive.

I feel most lively in that creative process of the middle of the rocky road heading to the end.

Warm, Regards

Guardiandogg

A message to readers: Always remember if I’m bullshiting it’s only to make you smile

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Let me say this again.

If I’m bullshiting it’s only to make you smile or God willing laugh at my silly ass.

We go through a lot of bullshit to feed our family’s to better ourselves and gain more opportunities to get ahead of the coming shit storm.

I’m not trying to add to the shit you have to carry. I’m trying make the shit bearable to lift and maybe bench press for fun.

I got one thing I can do well in the weirdest times of my life. I can weave some light delight out of a streaming hill of bullshit.

I am a bard of sorrowful stories who vaps depression with taste of cutton candy blueberry cream delight.

Warm Regards,

Guardiandogg

Midnight. Karaoke night. Two guys and one song about Wild Pussy…(comedy)

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I was at this restaurant late night with a girl 5’5 a shorty with a nice smile and a great backside and wearing a tiny red dress. I didn’t have to do much work this time. I got her and she had me with a smile of encouragement.

Anyway, it was karaoke night. Two dudes got up on the stage. One black rambo and a shit kicking cowboy. Both dateless and they both looked like shit.

I groaned. I was ready to get on with the shorty back to my place.

I heard a jumpy guitar rift and nice drum combination of some Jamaican cool tune of live band. What? I looked and saw they had two other fellas with them as back up.

The shorty smiled liking the tune to. There was a playfulness in her eyes and warmth about her that told me this bitch is in the mood.

The two dudes started moving to the music. They were feeling it but they looked like they were skipping on stage in no direction just in the moment to be playful and no fucks given.

The black rambo begins with a speed through rap I couldn’t give two damns to follow entirely. Something about a shorty with a nice booty and him getting lucky. Some ordinary shit. I was starting to get annoyed.

The black Rambo pauses and looks to his partner. Shit kicking cowboy looks at him and then at us and says.

“That was some…

WILD PUSSY!! Ohhh. Ohhh. Yeah!”

What the fuck?! That came out of nowhere.

They look out in to the audience like two hunters on safari. I laughed. Shorty was trying to be offended but my face made her guffaw loudly along with everyone else.

The shit kicker wasn’t done. He started singing but looked at his partner ignoring the audience.

“Where did she come? Where did meet her? Give me, the details. Does she have sister? Tell me more…bro.”

Damn. Cowboy was singing like a rock star trying to start a panty collection.

Black Rambo wasn’t to be out done though.

“Shorty was shopping with her sisters. I came right at her. I gave her my game. I took her away. Back to my place. I laid it on her. To two in morning. I got her number. But that was some….

WILD PUSSY!! Oh. Oh. Oh. Yeah.”

They skipped off the stages as the music faded and we clapped for them.

Warm Regards,

Guardiandogg

An Ode to the 80s the last true age of American style

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I was born in the 80s but grew up in the throwback of the 90s. The music of the 80s engained in my mind and films burned into lenses of my memories.

I prefer aviators for Saturdays and Prince songs on rainy days.

I feel out of time occasionally. My body stays 16 my mind takes quantum leaps through time. My past is puzzling mixture to me. My speech.

Fuck. My speech game is a mixed bag of current timeline slangs, 80s rifts and a consent stream of mother fucking rhetorical land mines.

When I say I am a American Highlander it’s the truth of my mindset and physical conditioning.

I find my mind drifting again even as I write this blog post to the young man sitting in his room staring up at his model solar system and hearing the conversations that are on repeat for the last twenty years outside his window. Two old men stuck in time while the young man longs to escape from the trailor park. He finds his mind has only one escape. The starfighter arcade game at the corner store.

Damn. I sound like an old fuck but still I feel 16. I wonder about this some times.

Warm Regards,

Guardiandogg

Song of the day abuse by propaganda because it’s one of those days

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It comes up every once in a while. A song from my past and a memory of days when I didn’t feel the grind on my rough hands and scared body.

I hear the drum. The engine is ribbing up for the day. My hope is that it will be productive day.

Spice kicks in as the song gears up the hill and I feel the new sounds drifting into the rhythm.

Alright let’s get this shit going. Could be rain coming in the afternoon. There’s a chill to the air but my mind is set to the sound and beat.

Let’s go.

Warm Regards,

Guardiandogg

Someone told me I can’t afford something…my response is challenge accepted

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Listen, if life is easy for you and you were raised with wealth and got the hot ass shorty easily ignore my post your doing fine.

Life is conflict for me. There always is something standing in the way of what I want or some person or bullshit brain washing about who I am and what I’m supposed to be or like. I have to fight against the shit every day in the country of my birth.

Fuck, my own fucking thoughts and self doubts can be against me at times. I still have to fight on for one purpose.

Fuck the bullshit I got shit I got to get done.

That’s it. I got shit I got to get done. If you want to do something and your shit at it from the jump then you need to work at it until you reach a capable level or give the shit up because it wasn’t important enough to fight to be better at doing.

My one ambition sense I was twelve was to reach a level of mastery that the words I put to pen and paper or doc file and font size convey my seriousness to the craft of writing.

That spirit lives on in my life in other roads of conflict I travel on now. When something means to you how hard are you willing to fight to claim it, to keep it, to master it, to earn it and to hold it?

I ask myself though before I get into the ring of conflict and accept the possibility of failure and defeat and the bullshit aftermath of self doubt demons haunting me in my sleep and waking hours.

Do you give a damn?

If the answer is anything but challenge accepted then I know it ain’t worth the bullshit. I can walk away gladly because it’s one less conflict I can add to the series of battles I’m currently in. I can forgo the bullshit if it means nothing to me but if is the former then my feet are already leading me into the field of blood and battle. Win or lose I wouldn’t have any other way. Because I will fight until the bloody fucking end for someone or something that means everything to me.

I never grew from the few times in my life when everything was at peace. I grew when I got my first kick to the face. I grew when I had to go to the hospital and see my dying mother even when I didn’t want to. I grew in my years of isolation and days of despair as I had to push my mind out of the fog of darkness around my mind.

Conflict. It is the air I breath and water I swim.

I embrace that because I know what it’s like to try to run from it. You can’t avoid it if is on the other side of the door of conflict means everything to you.

You’ll know. When you give a damn.

Warm, Regards

Guardiandogg

A black rambos weakness. Self pity with a side of jack daniels

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Holy shit.

If there is one thing I can’t stand about my black Rambo skin folk is the self pity bullshit they endulge in while they have a 5’5 shorty on their lap feeding them love and home made sandwich.

Holy shit.

I see it occasionally. The old grip about white folks, marketing issues about race and shit kicking cowboys rocking they’re cowboy hats with pride and no fucks given about what happened in the past.

Black Rambos are at their best when they’re having fun and taking on life by the balls. At their worst they’re like a beta bitch crying in the street about the conflicts of life and things not being easy.

I’m an American Highlander. I vap dispair and conflict like cookies n’ cream ice juice and exhale cool summer night vibes.

I used to find it depressing to see black rambos behaving in such a way now…well my view point has changed.

If you saw a 6’8 big dick black rambo sitting in a BMW pissing and whinning crying over some fucking billion asshole not respecting them wouldn’t you laugh.

You damn well know I would.

Warm, Regards

Guardiandogg

A Black Rambos weakness. A 5’5 shorty in a short dress and cute smile part 1

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Now I was raised among the black Rambos and black power princess and such so I know what I know from seeing a black rambo fall under the spell of a 5’5 shorty of any tribe known to mankind.

The innocent ones don’t have a fucking clue what they’re doing when they walk by with a sway to their hips and turn their head in a black rambos direction and look at him with a smile.

The charm comes on and playful seduction begins when a minute a go the dude was bitching about his fucking rent or his wife getting on his ass about some bullshit.

Hey it is what it is.

A black Rambo would be all to willing to deal with a fair amount of female bullshit to endulge in a delightful girl as her.

Warm, Regards

Guardiandogg

A lesson in female bullshit lesson 4 can you please answer my mother fucking question and no I’m not saying your a fat bitch

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I have a problem. When I’m talking to someone which is very few times with few words I need to know one thing a head of time. Will you answer my mother fucking question?

It’s only one little request. Well it’s really a mother fucking demand. I just need to know when I finally do speak will you answer with female bullshit or passive aggressive bitch speech. I need to be prepared ahead of time or else my fucking blood pressure will climb or my give a damn switch will be turned off immediately.

Example.

Her opening attack. “Hey what do you think of my dress?”

My response. “It’s nice. You think it’s going to be cold today?”

Her response. “What the fuck does that mean? You think my dress is to short. You think I’m a slut? What fuck is wrong with you?”

Holy shit! It’s to early for this shit. I need some mother fucking coffee in me. Sweet Jesus give me strength.

My finger is on the I-give-a-damn switch. I take a breath. “Aw no. I was asking because I don’t want to wear a jacket today if it will get warmer.”

Her response. “Oh. Well. Yes. It will get warmer. So what are you thinking about doing for the weekend?”

I slam my fist down on the switch and check out of the conversation.

Warm Regards,

Guardiandogg

Passive aggressive bitch speech the enemy to a dialectic mind

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I was raised by females and I am introvert by nature so obviously I was a beta bitch for most of my youth.

I didn’t talk directly with people because I was a bitch so I learned the fine art of passive aggressive bitch speech or being passive in confronting a issue head on. This worked as a means of communication for me until…

I got some balls or on a matter of fact I needed to know something I didn’t want a secondary answer about some bullshit feelings I had about the topic.

This might sound confusing so let me give you an example.

“Honey does this dress make me look fat?”

Anyway, I can’t stand that shit anymore. My mind doesn’t work that way sense I got some balls and started vaping conflict on the regular.

I use rhetorical speech for jokes and poetry though I absolutely mean it when I say I hate gamma, gamma mother fucking bitches.

Warm Regards,

Guardiandogg

It wasn’t about the snow, mother fucker. It wasn’t about the cold. The government shit the bed it’s time to get tough

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I’ve heard some bullshit online from dumbasses online and around joking about the shit storm in a texas. I got thoughts about it.

It was Tuesday night. I was freezing my asshole off and my toes hurt and all I could think was I understood that state of Texas didn’t have a back up plan.

I wasn’t angry about snow or the cold I was pissed to live in a time when the governor of Texas told me to wait out the storm in the cold because the grid wasn’t powerful enough to keep me warm.

I live in a state and town that is little more then a back water country at this time. The person my fellow dumbass calls President is a babbling old fool that looks like he’s one day away from dying in his fucking sleep and I don’t even know if he knows the fucking day of the week and people are disappointed they couldn’t impreach T-money after he left his job.

My problem isn’t the weather it is the state of a confederacy of dunces generation I’m apart of.

I’m not a black piller. I’m a realist. This pretending this shit government will last is bullshit. I would rather build a garden. I would rather gather rain water. I would figure how to make it without the government then place my faith in governmental forces that are against me. I would rather put my faith in my neighbors or a church that will give me a fucking warm bed to sleep to sleep on.

Warm Regards,

Guardiandogg