Month: September 2021

Holy shit! I got good one. The sound of Boomer being cooked for being an arrogant old asshole.

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Here’s the link

Long story short. Some arrogent Boomer was complaining about “the power lunch” going away and shitting on my generation because of it.

My generation came back fighting and kicked his shit in with classic lines like…..

“Old man yells at the lunch table”

And “We’re the ones doing the actual lunches while you’re having three-martini lunches.”

Holy shit.

The Boomer then contines to throw shade on my generation on the low while sticking his fat bot belly out.

The fuck?!

The shit is funny to me. The Boomer still doesn’t get it. The more he complains, or whins about my generation and accepts no blame for the shit he handed down to us the more I can’t help the desire to start going to my kitchen getting out cookwear and start cooking his ass with some hammer to dick jokes about him and his GG-generation.

Fuck em.

Warm Regards,

Guardiandogg

Let’s take Tango & Cash, Legend of Zelda and cyberpunk brainstorming…part 6

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Let’s add Tarzan and The Phantom

Chapter 5

Cash

I heard the sounds of the drums the moment I stepped foot in the Lost forest. The mist was thick.

I saw a torch light up ahead and Andy stood waiting with a white spear in hand. He was dressed in the green luin cloth and matching cap on his wild blown hair and nothing more. A bag was at his side.

I started stripping until I was down to my green shorts and put my clothes in his bag.

“I seek entrance into the forest temple.” I said.

“The chief will want to see you first before you enter. I’ll lead you the way.” Andy said.

I smiled at him. “Screw you I know the way home.” I said and took off running into the mist.

I heard Andy raced with me blindly as we followed the sound of the drum. My heart raced with excitment inspite of the seriousness of the situation. The magic of the forest and delight of going home again was a thrill I couldn’t stop. I raced on ahead laughing as I leaped off a rock caught a vein and started swinging in the direction of the drums.

“Show off!” Andy roared up at me as he raced on foot to beat me back home.

I landed on a slippery tree branch and started sliding right up and around to leaping for another vein swinging and continuing the ride. The drums got louder and I could hear the people of the forest laughter and welcoming voices.

I bounded off the last tree leaped summersalted and landed down on one knee at the feet of the great chief of the forest.

“Raise. Hero’s Ghost. Spirit of lost forest. Welcome home.” Eddie said.

I came to my feet facing the chief of the lost woods tribe. A 5’5 copper skinned dude with a wild grin dressed in green shorts. The symbol of the symbol of tree and circle was tattooed on his chest.

“Hey, Eddie. Why did you lie about the sword?” I asked.

Eddie grimanced. “Damn. I was hoping I would be dead before I had to answer that question. Leo blackmailed me into having you in exchange for the lost forest being left to be wild lands not under hyrule domain. He needed you.”

“I am Hyrulan by nation!” I said.

Eddie glared at me. “Your mother was Hyrule. Your father was a tribe member of the lost and mixed breed as much as your mother. You are the Hero’s ghost. Your orgin is rooted in legend and the mist.”

“Hyrule has fallen. To a man named Gannon. He has my woman. I need the tri scolls from the temple.”

Eddie shrugged and waved me to the temple entrance. “Have at it. We have no need for such worthless things.”

I nodded and moved past him to the entrance of the temple a door shaped around a giant tree. Something was right.

“There is a price.” Eddie said answering my thoughts.

“Name it.” I said.

“If Hyrule has fallen then it is time for hero’s ghost to return home to his resting.”

I nodded. “If Hyrule has fallen then I’m ready to return home.” I said and the doors to the temple opened. Damn it. That old tree magic never lies.

I walked toward the entrance. Andy came up and handed me his spear and my nightvision goggles. I smiled at him and fist bumped him before strapping on the goggles and entering inside.

To be contined….

Warm Regards,

Guardiandogg

Progress with major book project this year….

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I’m having major progress with my book project now that I’m taking my two days off to get my writing done into my book.

I got in two chapters in the middle and one chapter in the ending part. It’s coming together and lore of the family is taking shape.

The book has spice and laughter and it’s easier to explore characters reactions to what gets thrown at them.

I’m real excited for what November’s Kiss will produce for me book wise. I’m getting my mind ready to finish the book then and try to complete some of my other projects.

So far though it’s been a great year for my writing. I’m proud of my progress so far.

Warm Regards,

Guardiandogg

Sometimes the thing you love to do won’t be the thing that makes you the most money.

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Just a food for thought. I know to most adults this isn’t news or much in the way of wisdom but it’s something I wasn’t taught as a kid.

I was taught to the pursuit of money and having some type of business or real estate mindset.

It wasn’t for me though. I realize that now and was never much of a hustler at any point in my life.

I like to work with my hands and I like being creative but none of that shit made me money continous or serious money.

What I ended up doing currently for a living is strange for me. I’m good at it and it’s afforded me pride and a means to getting to my personal earnings goal and beyond in less than ten years.

Do I love it? Yes and no. A complicated answer. I love the activities of work. I don’t love the idea of defining myself by a job or a profession with a dollar amount that is the value of me as a person.

It feels like slavery. Though I know it isn’t. Just the concept of humans being worth more then other humans because of a job title or paper currency is bullshit to me.

Anyway,

I love being good at something I work hard at improving and perfecting. I love giving it my all. I love the fact I can achieve respect from it. I love the seeing growth in a skillset I’ve learned. But, it’s still a profession that demands I surrender time to it.

Again, I don’t whin about my share in the scheme of life’s daily journey. I work but I love my freedom to read and write more.

Warm Regards,

Guardiandogg

The Luminaries…I’m somewhere in section 2 swiming in plot.

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The book isn’t for everyone I know but the plot and pacing have hocked me in and I swimming in a long ass conversation that’s going at a snail’s pace but….

I’m hocked in. I don’t really feel the slow drag of a current conversation between two dudes about…..

Hmm. I really don’t know how to go into detail about the book. I’ll just say the conversation between the two men is about one dude being caught in a due low twist involving a whore.

Diffintion: A due low twist. A man caught in a sneaky complicated trap he couldn’t get out of in time. Sometimes involves female bullshit schemes.

Anyway, I could read this book forever. I love the tidbits of poetic voice and pose in the shit and verbal ticks in each character.

Warm Regards,

Guardiandogg

Cyberpunk dreams of 2021….

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What dreams. What dreams we mortal men and women dream.

In the afternoon of 1980s glow my mind still travels back again to that time and place. Though my eyes were still filled with youthful cartoon dreams I barely remember the present days of those 1980 days still I recall them to my memory like yesterday years 1990s bland convergence of America’s last happy days.

I nod off for a few seconds……and I wake up in a strange room of technology advances and wonder. I realize where or when I am when a big head robot’s head looks at me and laughs like Pee Wee Herman.

The flight of the navigator the rush of speeding the world and racing through time.

The speed. The need for speed. Racing down the digital landscape in light cycle and rushing to get out of the virtual world of walking programs and deadly viruses to find my way back to my world.

I blink twice and find myself faraway from my trailer park home in a starfighter about to enter my first dog fight.

The dreams…the 1980s dreams, the cyberpunk dreams just keep coming.

Warm Regards,

Guardiandogg

Poetry caught me at a young age

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Childhood

She caught me unaware by happenstance and in my need to speak. To speak truth and hear my own voice and not fear it telling revealing my own fears.

I wrote in poetic form to be encouraging to get the notice of the other people to be able to speak and not be afraid again fear was a consent bitch on my back. Nagging me about my self doubts and loneliness in my own mind.

Young adult

I wrote stories in short form to capture my dreams. To explore my own fantasy world wild ideas. To dream while I was awake and I started to worry less about truth though I wanted to speak my own truth.

I still lived in my fears. So I spoke little or not all of my truth feelings or opinions. I was a classical beta bitch.

Manhood

I don’t give fuck and fear would rather keep away from me now. I cut deep with my words because now experience and survival have taught me well about how much I can take. I don’t give a fuck.

Truth. Real talk. No bullshit speech is what I live by. I form and I shape my brand of poetic influence by the catalog of memories, experiences and a low tolerance for grade A bullshit speech in general.

I am what I am. The forge of life formed the blade of my mind and sense of humor but really I lost interest in being afraid so now….

I cew on Iron and I spit out bullets and strangely enough I can honestly say….

Hot damn! What a time to be alive.

The wind may blow to the east or to the west but I’m fine by it. I’ll set my sail in any direction it blows and enjoy the ride. Death is the final landing but along the way is sure to be a storm of conflict and adventure.

I smile at the thought of it.

Warm Regards,

Guardiandogg

What a week to remember….

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The days began at 4 a.m. or 1 if I couldn’t get any sleep the night before. I live with a night owl. His name is Redservent.

I go from bed to less then an hour and on the road to work early morning. I’m half awake and half wondering to myself how the fuck am I doing this?

I don’t ask why? I know the why? The why is the reason I’m happy to be up and going. I’m learning something worth the wild experience of being paid more to earn a bigger skill set.

I yawn a lot during the week but I smile a lot and when someone asks me if I enjoy what I’m doing the answer is a smile and a true statement I love every minute, every second and every breath of it.

It’s like being at college again and being amazed I was really taking a fencing class.

Zorro was my shit back in the day and being a shit kicking, truck driving, cowboy was another favorite of mean.

I’m happy and wish the same for you.

Warm Regards,

Guardiandogg

P. S.

All roads lead back to Smokey and The Bandit and and the 1950s black and white Zorro show. I told you I was an old fuck.

The weakness of conservatives of today. All talk and giggles.

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I’m watching this podcast with with Saragon on it and some other conservative asshole shooting the shit about some punk-ass fact-ass bitch U.S. general talking about high crimes of treason against T-money when he was sitting as the President of U.S.

Mind you. I’m already pissed off today because my bus didn’t arrive because reasons being…the fuck I know it happens often in Texas.

Anyway, the shit sounds like old news and I’m getting pissed because it ain’t a movie. The shit did happen and nobody gives fuck and nobody is going to jail….yet. You never know with T-Money he believes is payback is one bullet in chamber a way all you to be is patient.

This is the problem I have with conservatives on the internet and maybe in general. All talk and giggles.

At least with pimp cocain liberals they’re out right criminals willing to cut their own fucking mother’s throat to get the bag and power.

No shine or jade from me. They’re honest and at least by their actions don’t pretend that words will cut it entirely. You have fearless wanton wicked self righteous lust to take actions to back up your convictions.

Still their day is coming and they know it. There is a name day for that day it’s called Party Time. I’m talking standing ten toes down and stop pretending it isn’t a war of ideals and whether you want to shit in toilet or die a hole outside in the wild.

I don’t watch or acknowledge assholes that hate me or try to tell to hate the fact I have a dick and my enheirtence of BIG DICK Energy.

Fuck em and the modern shit movies, weak ass sauce they call art and intellectual progressive bullshiting.

Warm Regards,

Guardiandogg

Cyberpunk dreams, a medic’s origins, batman begins, Iron man and the hammer.

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Chapter 2 continues….

I stared at Norm as he gave me a goofy sardonic grin. He was forever the comedian/artist.

“So how has life been treating you Norm sense the last time we met?” I asked him casually.

Norm shrugged and picked up a calibration hammer from the work desk and started playing with twirling it around in his hand. “Not bad sense yesterday it’s not been so bad. Oh. I did get fired from comedy hour.” He said.

I frowned catching the hammer as he accidentally dropped it. “So you decided to be a test subject for an experimental rehabilitation suit? Did they give a reason why they fired you?”

Again that playful sardonic raise of his eyes and glim in his eyes had me fighting to not laugh.

“Well ah. Apparently folks got a bit offended by a joke I did about maybe it being a good thing corpo’s bringing back slavery in hells yard so that ten year olds can learn about a hard days work in the factories. Though it might have been about my weak heart and lungs about to give out all at once or fall out my ass.” He said shrugging. He pointed at the hammer. “What is that thing anyway?”

I held up the hammer. “It’s a calibration hammer. It’s actually my Dad’s old one. They used to use it for jump starting low heart rates back in the day. It’s old school though. So you just felt it was a nessary for you to get yourself shit canned for a cushy job over a joke?”

Norm smiled. “I perfer to think of as a means to getting corpos and dregs to all shit themselves in laughter at the same time. It was my biggest life long dream you know.”

I opened my mouth then closed it. “Fucking hell. I remember you saying that shit six years ago when we came back for Christmas beer run.”

Norm nodded grinning like an idiot. “Dreams do come true.”

To be continued……

Warm Regards,

Guardiandogg

Guardiandogg on Time…

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I would have titled this one how a realist thinks on time but I don’t speak for every realist I speak for me and how I think.

I know I’m going to die. I know as I age there is a window for what I can do and what I won’t be able to do when the expiration on my knees or my heart gives out.

I don’t fear death. I have. I fear. No. I am always mindful now more then ever I don’t have enough time. I write. Not for money. Why?

Well honestly writers in general don’t make a lot in the craft. J.K. Rowling I think of as a unicorn or to be honest I genius that milked an idea or concept into other medias that really produced the lion’s share of her money.

I got no shade or Jealousy in me. I read all her shit. It was apart of my childhood.

Notwithstanding, I’m in the majority in one aspect as a writer. I have to have a day job to afford a living space to write and read in my few free moments. There is a good side to it currently I’m learning or can learn a new skill I wanted to learn when I was a kid. I just have sell my time to learn it and earn more for funds.

It is what it is. Robert Frost didn’t whine about having a day job so I don’t see a reason to as well.

But, it’s always in my head now.

How do I make the time with less and less time to write 40 books before I turn 40?

I think I might have to sell more time. I’m thirty-seven. Real talk. I don’t expect to see 90 let alone a hundred. If I ever want to reach my goal of 40 before 40. I’ll have to write at least two books a month to succeed and exceed my goal.

Time. Again. I don’t know when I’m going to die. Part of me is happy with what I’ve done writing wise. But, still there is a part of me, that guardiandogg side.

I wish I didn’t have to sleep. I have to do alot of creative thinking and planning to make the time to write.

Why? Every moment. Almost every second. It’s on my mind. In the moments when I get bored the most with work or anything else I might find fun. I never holds my interests long. I always ho back to thinking of what I am going to write about when I have the time.

Warm Regards,

Guardiandogg

P.S.

Steven King gets it.