Over the years I’ve accumulated a few CDs. And while I once proudly stored my collection in a classy little case with glass doors and chrome handles, those days of modest numbers and persistent caretaking have fallen by the wayside. And while I do still curate my DVD/BD collection #LikeABoss, the CDs have long been relegated to massive storage bins. They’re in no order. I can never find anything. And when I do try to find something I inevitably get crabby, scrap the whole idea and put the iPod on random.
One of our inalienable rights as gamers is the right to swear at your game when it does you wrong. When you miss that jump in the last castle in World 8 in Super Mario Bros. 3 for the seventh time you have the absolute right to call that smirking fireball a “cunt-sucking flaming twatterball.” In fact, you should get bonus points for really good rage-fueled slurs. An extra life perhaps. It’s a necessary moment of relief. If video games start penalizing us for colorful language even during off-line games, you’re going to have a rash of in-home destruction the likes of which you haven’t seen since the bike race in Battletoads.
This is going to be one of those self-help nonsense posts that sometimes pop up on here. I shouldn’t regret self-help. It’s really self-help for me, reminders and gentle nudges to change the way I look at each day. It’s important to consider each day a limited resource. There are 24 hours in each day. How are you going to… Read more »
I don’t believe in the 50,000 word total. I believe in struggling to find a measure of self-confidence however possible. To find a comfort level in your work that does not breed self-doubt. If that means you spew words as fast as possible without looking back, then by god, man, write like the wind. But if you’re like me, that word-spewing, that regurgitation of prose just doesn’t work anymore. It almost damages me. I write. I revise. I write. I’ve tried many different methods of composition and this is the one that works for me.
That downward spiral caused me to create this bl-g and write about how rediscovering vinyl helped pull me out of said funk. At that second in my life my “Harvey” was vinyl and the pop music of my childhood… but if I had to pick a “Harvey” for most of the rest of my seconds, it also might be Harvey. So, you know, Watch Harvey.