I have a sudden short temper and hatred for assholes

and mediocrity.





These were my words at Grandma’s funeral.  They’re better spoken than written, in that I didn’t read the typos, and replaced things like “sucks” with “tough”

I still mean it all.    (Even if Granny taught me more through board games.)   Might post a digital upload of the slideshow movie I made later, and that’s going to be it for grandma tributes here.   Yes I know the death of a loved one is always morbid.

No, I’m not doing badly, but I’m not doing well, either.


“How are you?”


No one says that.


________________My last words over grandma___________________

I know so many people know her as Dolly, Benjamina,

But my father’s branch knows her as Mumsy, and that worked just fine


To realize there’re no more grandparents in your life…..it really sucks.

This really really sucks.

This is hard and I need to write this down,

A grandparent like mumsy.

She was special in so many ways, and I’m gonna miss her….she’s gonna be missed.

I know that goes way beyond just some people.  Mumsy had a wide-ranging impact that I’m not even sure she knew, but she definitely, 100% tried to realize.
As so many here will tell you, she had a mind for that


This’s  just another thing that made her special.

I know I don’t even need to say it, but it needs to be said

Mumsy raised such strong family.  Mumsy contributed to such a strong family.  Mumsy contributed to even more than that.

Mumsy was another woman who taught me values. Sorry if I’m making this too personal, but even when I was a young silly dumb sprout, and tried to be a brat, the way she said “no” and “you can do better” was special.

And there’s more, and I don’t wanna get too deeply into this, but, I it’s not hard to see how Mumsy worked to teach ideal humanity. To her family, and more.

Going through the pictures for the slideshow show, and going through people’s words, I’ve realized that life to my grandmother was about way, way, way more than her.  It made her special.

It’s become clear to me that mumsy thought about people.

And that’s another reason I think Mumsy was another one of those, a good person.

This is hard.

But I know many things.

And as my silly slideshow says, mumsy was loved, and she more than earned it.


My grandmother was one of those people who embraced her values, head on, head strong,

And as a grandson, it’s less that I know she was beautiful, and lovely;

I know that she was loving

I don’t mean this in any negative way: she proved you can be hard, and hopeful against hope, because of having a big heart.

I like that she was another woman who taught me that. I’m never gonna forget her memory just for that.

It’s really hard to say goodbye to a woman and a person like my grandmother.

And I just want to say she was a really, really great grandmother.

I’m afraid some of my first memories of this grandma was when I’d fake sick from school and knew I’d be with her and at her house, and we’d do stuff like play checkers, and while she knew my weak game, she’d teach me other important things in between rounds.

And I know that’s special.

Sometimes my grandmother, mumsy, expected a lot, and it’s because she gave, and meant a lot.

I know she was hopeful, beyond idealistic, wonderful, wonderful woman.

I will never stop loving her memory.

For me, it’s more than she was generous as heck

It’s just part of who she was, that caring, having a standard, having a give a darn, having a loving side that could be fortified by a “We need to” good value side.

And I just want to say I know that everyone who does good

Hey, she’d love that, and she’d always take joy in the good, decent, and more than decent things.

That made her really special in so many ways.

So I wanna say: all the good people who live well, and are good

I firmly believe, and I know it in my blood that she’d love that.

I really hope we all keep on a part of a memory of her by living our lives well

I’m gonna celebrate her forever, no matter what, cause I know I was blessed with one heck of a special grandma.

I can’t tell you how hard it is to say goodbye.

My grandma spread love, she created love, she made loving dynamics by her existence

And I hope everyone else does, too.

I think that’ll honor her, and I know she’d love that.


It’s “Let’s move things forward” day.


I’ve queried more agents, and also started applying back to finance gigs, because that’s a way, way faster path to not failing as a bread-haver.


Cleaned house.

Resume updated.   Smartly.


These people in this country, who think it’s good to just “have a job” are still silly.  Like, you can be 30 and work in a pizza shop, and that’s not something I’d ever poop on, but what I’m saying is, a good resume, I’m pretty sure, doesn’t list that, unless you’re applying to pizza shops.   And I’m confident my resume is strong.


I won’t say more than that, except that I’m really, really, really honored that 3 guys, the second I reached out over LinkedIn and mentioned that I’m looking to get back into compliance, gave me referrals.  I feel like they liked me, or something.



Traditional publishing is still something that moves at glacial speed.   That sucks when you hoped your ideas would grow at plant speed.


I’m still adjusting to how much is going to change in the next few weeks……about how much already has changed.  But that’s ok.  I feel like that’s time, and the world.


I’m just gonna rant about it:

We expected mumsy/grandma to die.  Her quality of life was not up there.  Her personality deteriorated more and more every day.  It was a breakthrough when I asked her to blink in response and she did.  That shit makes me think about the concept of soul, and the afterlife, and if she died yesterday….does she have a 97 year old soul?  How articulate would it be?  We know that brain abnormalities….like those caused by stroke….really affect personality….so if there’s an afterlife, how much of the woman I grew up under as “Mumsy” gets to live into it?

This is shit we don’t know.  There probably isn’t a soul.  Probably.  I still think the concept is based on human narcissism.  But I can’t prove a negative, so we don’t know.

My grandmother has still passed on.  I woke up today feeling absolutely, moving forward-cool about it.  But every time I have to recall that moment when I learned she died, there’s that fucking grief.  There’s that capability to start crying.  That makes me human, and I’m OK with that.

It’s really that moment, when the uber-academic doctor, the detached, the guy who gave me so many “I learned politeness from my bedside manner classes, but that was all foreign shit to me” guy said “She expired and I’m sorry.(period)” which, yeah, that carries a lot of emotion to me.  That’s when I got a big sledgehammer of reality.

Grandma was 97 years and 51 weeks.  She was a week away from 98, and there’s a dumb part of me that wishes she got one more week.  Just one more, so we could quantify her life into a nice neat little number some more.  I know that’s dumb.  Mumsy, like most of my grandmas, was one of those pains in the asses who taught me that pains in asses can have big, good hearts.

This changes so much.  There’s personal stuff like, property.  Ownership.  I probably won’t have a garden in some months. FEELINGS of entitlements among the little cousins will turn into actual entitlements, which I can respect (and move on from) because that’s correct.  We have to make arrangements and my father, his brother and his sister need help to make the best decisions that appeal to everyone.

I really feel like a man.   And in a bad way.  Like I’ve got to man up and do morbid stuff.  This isn’t somber shit, I’d carry my grandmother’s casket so hard, and I want to.  That woman, that lady who taught me the most about my mixed background simply by being herself (and I can’t recall her once using the word black, btw… I think that says something) has a long-ass legacy that we don’t get to just put to rest, cause we’re alive, so it lives too.   I really wish personal things, like that I had more traditionally published books in the time that she was alive that she could’ve been proud of.  I really wish I was more stalwart, but there’s a lot of grief about this woman who, in actuality, stopped living the way she was half a decade ago, finally leaving her body.

It’s just a natural process of life.   I spent a good part of yesterday screaming fuck at the top of my lungs and pounding the punching bag and then fluctuating between a kind of cold numb and the urge to want to curl up and cry. I guess I loved her a lot.  Go fucking figure.

Jaidree was and is, amazing.  She just came home and understood that I needed moments, and occasional hugs.  She found me on our lawn with a hoodie covering my face, with a sleeping bag protecting me from misquitoes, just drinking and staring at the cat who was a foot away.  I couldn’t read.  I told her she was on dinner duty, that I didn’t care whatever it was, and you know what? that was a lie.  She ordered calimari, chicken parm, pizza, a calzone, wings and fries, and all I was planning was to get drunk last night, but it turned out fried shit covered in tar-tar helped.  Like I just downed the calamari and some wings, and then was done, but honestly, it helped a whole lot.  I normally don’t list food unless it has some kind of magic, but last night’s quiet feast helped.  So that tradition of giving a grieving person a casserole…yes, give them food.  Make it so they don’t have to self-motivate to get grub and dishes together.  Make it delicious.  Make it comfort food. It helps their spirit too.

I talked with the sister in chi-town, and it went from commiseration, to problem solving.  And that felt right.

It’s good to have family you can relate to, obviously.  But, it’s important to.  It makes the grieving process so much less…..griefy.  I thought I’d be more prepared to be hit less hard than I am.  I’ve got a eulogy to do now.  One last thing for grandma.


I’m still out of grandparents….and I’ve been blessed with quite a few of ’em.  My dad is now a true elderly senior man.    He’s THE true elderly senior man now.  I also sort of can’t believe I don’t have grandparents anymore, but only sort of.

Cause I can.

That’s reality, I can eat it hard, and I hope mumsy is a lot less uncomfortable today than I knew her to be yesterday.


Grandma passed away today.   Saw them doing chest compression until TOD was declared.


I keep going from sad, to numb, to a little mad.   This changes a lot.  She was the youngest of a big, big family, and the last to go.   Dad said this marks the end of an era, and I agree.


Red Nuts

This’s about how exposing your balls to sunlight MIGHT affect your hormones. It’s something I just read after a weird google search related to a new author’s interesting work.
“As a man on a constant quest to optimize my brain and body (including my own balls), I decided to actually look into the health effects of UV light on the genitals. To my surprise, some studies have actually demonstrated that exposing the torso or the testes to light can potentially increase testosterone. In fact, studies on the effects of light on the testes go way back to 1939, when researchers exposed various parts of men’s bodies to UV light. They found that men’s testosterone levels went up by 120% when the participants’ chests were exposed to UV light, and they went up by 200% with UV exposure to the genital area. (This was the same study former professional baseball player Gabe Kapler cited back in 2015, when he advocated for tanning your testicles in a blog post that later went viral.)”
I looked at the study, and just think that it’s possible that the gall it takes to expose these parts to sun, is more probably related to a testosterone influx, rather than some UV rays. This isn’t like how sunlight breaks down cholesterol into vitamin D, until you find the mechanism that proves that. If I went to planet fitness, and felt like I got away with hanging my nuts out in the red room, guess what? I promise my testosterone will register with a higher influx. It’s just like if I say f**k your couch, and kick your couch. But let’s not parse that out, and proselytize about beaming our nuts, instead.
I think I need to go back to school.  This isn’t how normal people spend their 5 oclocks.