Author Archives: Jayson Gallaway

Tied my shoes today for the first time since March 25.  Thinking back on it, I probably didn’t really have to tie my shoes today.  But it’s good to know I still can, I suppose.  It had been a while.  But yeah…still got it.

Some dude wrote an article expressing his complete bafflement at his roommate wearing jeans every day during quarantine.  It was weird.  “I’m not angry, just concerned.  Why are you wearing jeans when no one can see them?  Clearly it’s not to impress anyone, given that no one can see you below the waist.  It’s likely that pulling on your denim, even in times like these, provides you the ‘keep calm and carry on’ coping mechanism for weathering this situation as you try to cling to remaining threads of life as you  previously knew it.”
What kind of armchair psychological horseshit is this?  Okay, it seems his issue is not really with someone in quarantine wearing denim, but with anyone who would wear pants at all.  Because, his reasoning apparently goes, the only reason anyone wears pants is to…show off the pants to other people?  Doesn’t matter…where we diverge is at the fundamental reason people wear pants.  I can’t speak to this guy’s world view, but apparently to him, pants are a sort of penance one must endure if one expects to go out in public or in any way deal with other people.  But it is not that way with me.  The reason I wear pants every day has nothing to do with anyone else.  I need someplace to put my keys.  My wallet.  My phone.  Various weapons.  And you never know when you’re going to be in some fight to the death with…spiders, burglars, priests, whatever…regardless, the fight will go a lot better for you if you’re wearing pants.  And I spontaneously fry things, like bacon.  I’ve been to places like nude beaches and Burning Man, places where clothing is very much optional…ya know what I did?  Yep…one leg at a time.  If I was the last person on the planet tomorrow morning when I wake up, I’m pulling on some pants.
Maybe it’s just that for some of us introverts, nothing has really changed for us.  It sure as hell isn’t a coping mechanism.

N.P.: “Lightning Riders” – AWOLNATION

Oh man am I in a foul mood, dear reader.  Holy shit.  Everything sucks today.  As a last resort, I tried to take a nap, and that didn’t even work out.  I think I’m starting to go a bit sideways.  I spent today wearing a smoking jacket, cowboy boots, no pants, chain smoking out of a 6″ cigarette holder, sipping whiskey from a snifter, and inexplicably speaking with a southern drawl.  I have also developed romantic feelings for Marie Osmond and as well as several local newscasters.

N.P.: “Isolation” – The Tea Party

I so hope the lockdown never ends: literally everything is better when the extroverts are confined to their weird dwellings.  The world is quieter.  The air smells better.  We’re not forced to listen to the inane blathering of The Herd

Before my surgery, the anesthesiologist offered to knock me out with gas or a boat paddle…it was an ether/oar situation.
Okay, sorry…that was bad.

Word count is up.  Started this whole new section on the slasher novel.  I gotta say, if you’re a writer that’s at all “edgy” and you occasionally write something that you’re really on the fence about publishing because it may be Over The Line and bring the villagers marching to the castle gates with their torches and pitchforks, it’s extremely convenient to have a murder novel in progress that you can just drop weird shit into and have it fit perfectly.

N.P.: “Apocalyptical” – Puscifer

I went to the gas station and it occurred to me that I hadn’t been there since March.  I almost had to think about what I was doing.  It was weird.  The price of gas has dropped quite a bit.  And there was nobody else there.  All in all, a fine visit to the gas station.

Got a cheap new mic to use for dictation.  It’s pretty cool…I can pace around the room wearing a wireless headset and mic, and just kind of talk my book, and watch the words roll out on a large monitor on the wall.  This works really well for me.  This process of writing this way is really close to what it’s like recording music: you sing into a mic, your voice is digitized, and then you can edit and manipulate it on the screen using a mouse and keyboard.  To that end, I’ve now combined the writing studio and the recording studio in one room.   I’ve been spending a lot of time in that room.  I really like that room.

N.P.: “When the Shit Hits the Fan” – Circle Jerks

An Ohio woman has been arrested for calling 911 because her “pussy was on fire.”  Indeed.  It seems Katrina Morgan, 50, got The Itch over the weekend and placed a call to the Port Clinton Police Department and asked if their “hose is working” and if so, could someone please bring it on out to the house: “I need somebody to come put it out with their hose.”
So the police department did oblige, natch, but rather than using their hose to put out any crotchfires, they simply arrested Miss Morgan.  As one might expect, said arrest did not go smoothly.  In fact, Miss Morgan refused to comply and began shouting at the officer.  She resisted getting in the back of the police car until the officer called her “a foul and perverted beast” and threatened her with a good tasing.  “You think you’re pussy’s on fire now, just wait til I light you up with this thing.”
Miss Morgan became compliant.
Numerous empty booze bottles were found inside the residence and other guests stated their were all drinking and Miss Morgan was “drunker than shit.”

N.P.: “Pure Pleasure Seeker” – Moloko

Big breakthrough, dear reader…record number of words down in the last 24 hours. We are pleased.

N.P.: “Send/Receive (Mind)” – Wand

The only real writing I’ve done so far is a bunch of bitching into my journal.  I have some hope for one of the books this evening.  We shall see.

I read an account of what it’s like to be stung by a murder hornet.  We really need to destroy these things posthaste.

N.P.: “Are Friends Electric?” – The Dead Weather

Well Jesus, dear reader, as if there wasn’t enough for us to worry about…now there are reports that murder hornets from Asia have arrived on our shores.  According to the Times, this wretched pestilence must be stopped in the next few months or else it is here to stay.
Apparently these goddamn things get up to 2 inches long and as of this week were found for the first time in the United States, specifically in the state of Washington.
Fun fact: in Japan the hornets kill up to 50 people a year according to the New York Times.  Yeah. And that’s not all: murder hornets can wipe out entire bee colonies within hours their stingers are long enough to penetrate puncture be keeping suits also according to the times.
The Times went on to say that the hornet has a distinctive look with eyes that are “teardrop shaped like Spiderman, with orange and black stripes that extend down its body like a tiger.”
Murder hornets, dear reader! Murder hornets! Jesus! What are we going to expect to deal with next?
These evil things have shown up in Bellingham, Washington. I’ve spent time in Bellingham, Washington: it’s an amazing place, with amazing people. Why should they have to deal with the murder hornets? Who dumped murder hornets in Bellingham?  This is outrageous.
N.P.: “Ain’t No Way” – Robin Loxley, Jay Hawke

All commercials have become the same  (even more the same than they might have been before): open with dramatically slow but vaguely hopeful piano music, then a voice over: “in these _______ [trying, uncertain, difficult, unprecedented, et cetera] times, it’s important to remember _______ [“the most important thing…is family,” “we need each other…” “everybody is worried, everybody is scared,” et cetera]. 
Which is fine.  Whatever.  But what really bugs me is the inevitable conclusion of these ads. I do wish corporate entities would stop telling me that we are “in this together“. Look, you were in this, and I am in this, but that does not mean that we are in this together. Save it.  Anybody continually insisting that “we’re in this together” is likely someone getting ready to ask for toilet paper.  

N.P.: “The Still” – Esoterica