Goodbye Little Friend
I’m saying goodbye to my little man. My little old man. He’s actually 8 years old now. Much too old for a laptop. He’s been my constant companion, my confidant, my trusty ally when I needed to escape the world and peruse the endless glossy magazine known as the web. It was time. With one key missing and at least a dozen letters worn off from the typing of time; goodbye HP Pavilion dv6-6173cl. You have been a good machine. My fingers always found their place on your smooth plastic keys. They knew you well. It’s true, though there were some programs that you didn’t run very well, you were a powerhouse in your time. Goodbye little friend.
I just ordered an upgrade. A sexy HP Omen. I’m not shallow, really… but I couldn’t resist the red keys, the sleek design… the sexy specs, and lets not forget the big 17 inch screen!
With 10th Gen Intel Core i7-10750H , 2 TB hard drive and 1 TB SSD, a bangin’ video card and 64 GBs of wam-bam-thank-you Ram. It should be able to handle my various other hobbies: video production, graphics, (nude selfies with breakfast food) plus I want to start using DAZ. Story writing should be a breeze, the chapters may even write themselves with this beast. I’d like a few private moments alone with my new laptop now.
Speaking or writing…
The Taming of the Fallen: Story excerpt from the chapter I’m working on.
Case number 338 unfolded with the dull thud of Issabella’s knuckles on Mr. Schmitz’s head when he opened the door too soon.
“Oh! I’m sorry. I thought you were wood.”
Mr. Schmitz was not made of wood, he was flesh. Flesh wearing an old sweater with patches on the elbows, a cap on his head and a long faced that twitched with anxiety.
“Are you the demon hunter?” He whispered nervously.
“Yes, did you order one?”
“I did.” He smiled and pulled her into the house like a vacuum pulls in a sock.
Copyright Joseph Wicke 2020
Today’s psychological quiz and other blab
You gotta love those personality quizzes you see on social media. Does anyone believe those things? What Marvel Avenger are you? Where should you be living? Which Disney Princes is best for you? Which food matches your personality? What is your spirit animal? What type of lover are you?
Do we take these quizzes for some sort of good self-affirmation feelies? Do we take these quizzes because we are insecure, and it’s nice to know our literary doppelganger is Emily Dickinson or Oscar Wilde? Or, are these seemingly harmless click-bait distractions designed to lead us down the trail of product marketing? Am I a “Harry,” a “Hermione” or a “Draco?”
Are there secret little web-bots collecting my personal information under the guise of a proposed fortune? Only to be fed back to me by big corporations during my online browsing experience, hoping to target my interests? So, while my boxer briefs claim that I’m grounded and sexy, my online viewing time is being bombarded by related underwear ads… thank you lame-ass pop-psychology quiz. My jeans say “Hello, watch me.” My pocket book says, “Hello, watch me empty out.” You are a devious devil Mr. Internet. In 2017 they found that Americans are being exposed up to 10,000 ads a day. Brain washing?
All in the name of a consumer driven society. Sure who doesn’t like getting something new through the mail? I do. It’s like a mini-Christmas. But, that sly smirk on the Amazon package when you receive it, it’s a smirk that says “Thank you, yes you’ll be back… again and again… (insert evil laugh)
Soon I will be seeing ads for fresh produce and teddy bears. Damn that quiz.
Do I really need an online questionnaire to tell me who I am? To affirm my life? It’s self-sycophantic. It would be much better to stand in front of the mirror naked and say, “Yes, I do have a nice penis, thank you very much.” OK, yes… guilty. Well, who doesn’t?
Why so serious Joseph?
I used to have a friend who would say she was a survivor. “You can survive or you can die.” She would quote. The older I’ve gotten, I’ve realized: It’s not really so much about surviving, but rather, the manner in which you’ve done so. What type of person have you become? Are you grace under pressure? Or are you a water pipe exploding all over the floor? Were you the rock that weathered the storm? Or did you sit naked in the corner listening to Green Day while Rome burned outside. Did I make lemonade out of lemons?
About a year ago, a woman at work died. She was a fixture, a cornerstone of the business. A bunch of us had known her off and on for years. She was a wife, a mother, a grandmother and she was a rock. She was an incredible steadfast rock who had learned to greet life with a lighthearted presence, but was fully capable of holding her shield tight and dealing with many of life’s hardships; always displaying grace and strength, and, the mirth of an angel.
So, these days while I fumble around, becoming the lord of my new castle, of juggling the big fiery balls of writing-time, work-time, home-time and the other associated hells of life, (and!.. attempt to remain an adult… ha!) I should hope that through all of this that I will become, not just a survivor, but one who survived in style.
To you C.S. You have taught us well.
With that said, I am the Hulk, I should live in Ireland, I’ve much in common with Sleeping Beauty, I am Ice cream. Woo! I’m also a dog, or an eagle… and a loyal lover, adventurous and slightly kinky. Hmmmm… I do feel strangely validated by those quizzes. I’d like to spend a few moments alone with myself now. Or wait… I have a sudden urge for some shopping…
Bye for now, peace out.
-Joseph, AKA Ice-Cream Hulk Kink Dog (my secret rap name)