Iambic Pentagram
Copyright Phil Grech 2011
Published at Smashwords
All writing and editing by Phil Grech
All grammatical, spelling and logical mistakes by Phil Grech
www.philgrech.com
Cover art and back page by Laura Livingston
Preface
While many are thirsty, few will quench their thirst. This is me quenching my thirst.
I moved to Florida in March 1999. I had no idea who I was. I moved to Florida with a pile of clothes and a bunch of questions.
Shortly after moving to Florida, I met a friend who now lives in Richmond, VA. Still in contact over a decade later, our conversations mainly involve writing, physics and how much we hate Florida.
Jim Reed introduced me to punk and hardcore through which I soon discovered metal and its sub-genres. One of the main themes I found in all of those genres was a DIY ethic that affected me and helped me realize that if you believe in something enough, the people around you will too. No need for the big guy above you to take care of business for you. You can do it yourself.
It’s 2011 and I still maintain this ethic, but let’s go back in time.
I put together twelve short stories into a book in 2007 and sold it to friends and at the tattoo shop I worked at then. I also mailed it to different people and publishers across the country. A few months later, I received a letter from David, the editor at Blue Cubicle Press, saying he wanted to publish one of those stories as a book.
A little over a year later, “Don’t Waste Your Hands,” my first book, was published. It sells for $2.50. At 28 pages, it’s just a little guy, but here’s the deal: it’s actually published.
I’ve met many people who have written books then approached me and said, “Hi, check out this book I’ve published.”
Your book was published? Impressive! After a bit of conversation, I discover their book was self-published. And that’s ok. But where is the problem?
They told me it was published.
It’s 2011. Anyone can publish a book. I can feed my dog cocaine and lock it in my bathroom with my laptop and publish whatever Stella’s paws and urine end up slamming and liquidating on the keyboard.
If you want to self-publish, that’s fine and I fully support you, but if you do, tell people you have been self-published because if you tell people you’re book was published, you’re lying.
Getting published is difficult. Getting published implies validation. I have had one book published and getting my next published is incredibly difficult, especially in an industry that thrives on genre fiction like vampire novels or whatever shit your neighbors are reading.
In the DIY ethic, it doesn’t matter what everyone else is doing. It matters what you’re doing. The majority of people will always be into mundane, easily acceptable, self-comforting, easy going, non-envelope pushing, boring ass bullshit, while the minority knows what’s really going on.
Eventually, the majority will pick up on that, begin to absorb the once rejected minority which will turn into something boring, trite and commercial, and a new minority will emerge.
It’s a painful cycle.
It’s 2011 and DIY is still in my blood.
I don’t convince myself that if I sit on my couch, write a bunch of stories and a few books that someone will discover me so I can be famous and reap in the benefits. That’s reality for few, but most peril under those assumptions of how success comes. Half the effort is writing, the other half is promoting.
Anyone willing to get somewhere must push self-comfort aside and focus on truth. You get nowhere unless you get yourself there. That’s why I made this. I have no patience to passively sit on my couch and hope it happens. If you’re going to do it, you’re going to do it yourself.
Your couch, your comfort, that is your greatest obstacle. Many are thirsty, but few will quench it. They wait for a waiter to bring them a glass of water. I’d rather kick in the goddamn kitchen doors and pour it myself.
Consider those doors broken off the hinges.
***
Introduction
Sometimes, when alone, I am even too much company for myself.
What’s scarier than mediocrity?
The goal is truth, not self-comfort.
If there is one thing we need, it’s that we must be more aggressive in our thinking.
‘I haven’t really thought about it’ is an all too much too common response.
Part of being human is wanting to know you mean something to someone.
If there is anything sacred in this world, none of us have ever seen or touched it.
If you never have a moment where you look around the room and think, “Everyone here is full of shit,” then you’re full of shit.
If you're not going to bring it all to the table, don't even bother picking it up.
We really love cliche, trite, meaningless quotes that get us through the next three minutes of our lives until we forget the quote and fall back into dread.
***
Prolegomenon
See: “Don’t Waste Your Hands”
***
Spellcheck Yourself Before You Wreck Yourself
I remember one particular club night at college. I was there in support of our philosophy club at the beginning of the semester, encouraging people to join the club while answering their questions. But because it is philosophy club, they spent more time ignoring us than I spent trying to get their attention.
I know. It’s a philosophy club at a small private college. The line to join is roughly the same length as the line for Sarah Palin’s movie but with very different intelligence levels (usually). I wasn’t expecting anyone to rush to the table, sign their name, then show up early to the next meeting.
I approached all kinds of people, asking them all kinds of questions, trying to find a way to get them interested while also being fun. I asked people if they liked music, movies, dancing, porn, various colors, asking questions, hating people, getting free money, it didn’t matter. I could trace it back to philosophy. That’s one of the good things about philosophy, it encompasses everything and I’ll find a way to make that happen.
One of the questions I asked was, “Do you like reading?” One of the responses I received was a very angry, “Hell no, I don’t like reading,” and that response included enough sass to fill an entire high school with 15 year old girls with their parent’s credit cards. That sass included enough head and eye rolls to film five Exorcism sequels. The response in my head included enough violence to film five more Exorcism sequels, as long as those sequels could include me bashing someone’s face open with a brick because that was the exact first thought in my head.
My actual response was a straight-faced, “Great,” and then I turned around and walked away, still making more Exorcism sequels in my head.
I wasn’t mad because he was not interested in reading. I’m not interested in field hockey, and if someone told me they wanted to break my face open with a brick because I wasn’t interested in field hockey, I’d have them arrested (or break their face open with a brick first, depending on the circumstances).
To be short, I was mad because this guy was not only proud to be stupid, he was angry at me for suggesting he might be interested in fecundating activities.
Reading and learning are exciting. Learning new words, ideas, concepts and grammar rules make my heart race. I’m not trying to sound nerdy, which is now what people say when they want to sound cool (i.e. I know I’m going to sound nerdy, but I really like anime! – big deal, lots of people do. If you were that ashamed, you wouldn’t have mentioned it), but I do.
Poor grammar and just generally being dumb is a turnoff.* Judge me for it, but it is, and I’m not going to be ashamed of it. Why? Because I don’t want to date someone who confuses simple rules of grammar or has no interest in communicating so I can understand her.
I’ve written this about twenty times, but everyone says there are a lot of stupid people in the world, but no one ever admits to being in the stupid group. We all give ourselves credit for our intelligence and our ability to continue eating, breathing and shitting, going to sleep and repeating it the next day, but no one says, “Wow. I have horrible critical thinking skills and I make fucking up look so easy!”
I’m going to put this guy in that category. I could have said, “Man, aren’t there a ton of stupid people in the world,” and high-fived him, but he would never have known he was high-fiving against himself.
How do I know there are a lot of people like this? Easy. I watch YouTube videos. The comment section for YouTube videos is a breeding ground for just really awful, stupid shit. I could have used a stronger noun there like comments or communication, but honestly, it’s just shit.
How does the Internet have enough storage space for all the dumb shit we have to say, tweet, post and talk about? Imagine how much server space YouTube could open up if they deleted all comments from all ICP and Nickleback videos?
Another benefit would be that anyone like me wouldn’t burst a blood vessel struggling to read through the complete idiocy that people wrote. A recent study shows that reading YouTube comments increases your chances for a heart attack by 47%.**
Maybe that’s what killed Derrida. A brief attempt at deconstructing YouTube video comments was enough to push him over the edge. The comments are filled with enough Freudian typos to resurrect the man from the dead.
Meeting someone, albeit how briefly, who not only refuses to stand on the intellectual stage, but is proud not to, should infuse rage in anyone. Not the type of rage that is dealt with by making someone’s face obsolete with a brick, but the type of rage that required them to, well, I still haven’t figured that out yet. Maybe just write about it.
More important than anything, please understand why it affects me. I don’t care if you’re not interested in philosophy. It’s not a subject for most people and that’s fine. Not every conversation has to be serious, deep and intellectual. I’m fine with sitting around talking about the weather and making fart jokes, but promise me you’re not proud to be stupid. And promise me you won’t get offended if I presume you’re interested in fecundating activities.
Is that so much to ask? I need it so bad (that’s what she said).
*Please
don’t hesitate to point out the grammatical mistakes in this
piece
**Please don’t believe that fake statistic
***
Fashion Advice From a Guy with a Coffee Stain on His Shirt
You’re a guy. You need fashion advice. But here’s where you’re going to fuck up: you’re going to ask someone. That’s your first mistake. Your second mistake is listening to them. Don’t ask me about fashion, I’m just going to tell you.
Remember my first sentence? It read, “You’re a guy.” Keep that in mind and let’s use that as our premise in determining how we should dress as guys.
Throughout the decades, fashion changes a lot. Someone in 2011 who dresses like it was the 90’s is going home alone every night until he cuts that out. Same goes for the guy dressing like it’s the 80’s, 70’s and so on.
In fact, your only chance of going home with someone not dressing contemporarily, is if you dress in an era that is so far in history, it was before your grandfather could tie his own tie. For example, dress like Oscar Wilde? Some girls might like that. Toga parties and guys dressed in loin clothes? Some girls are dumb enough to go home with those guys (STD’s are so 90’s).
There is only one style that remains cool to this day. There is one style that can’t be fucked with. Take a picture of yourself in the 60’s, 90’s, whenever, and you’ll never feel ashamed to show your friends that picture today. It’s a t-shirt and jeans. Give a guy a t-shirt and jeans and not only is he comfortable, but he’s not afraid to have a picture taken that may cross into the next decade.
Simple enough, right? Not so fast. Guys fuck this up all the time. It’s so simple and guys still do it. They’re so dumb they voted for whatever political party you disagree with most. Heretical examples of guy fashion faux-pas include skinny jeans, oversized t-shirts and deep v-necks. Guys in marketing will tell you these things are cool. Guys on the street will tell you they’re not.
C’mon, man! You were right there! I thought we were on the same page and then you stepped outside your house in skinny jeans and a deep v-neck. Don’t stand too close to me. I don’t want anyone to think we’re friends. I’m not so insecure I need to imitate some indie band in a magazine with my cute Justin Beiber hairstyle.
So, why am I all gung-ho about sticking to a t-shirt and jeans? Simple.
Here’s the breakdown: I have two full sleeves, my entire back tattooed and just as many on my legs, but when I’m walking down the street, you can usually only see my arms. My tattoos are my only giveaway. They’re the only thing the average citizen can judge me by. Other than that, a t-shirt and jeans puts me in no circle and in all circles at the same time. I can be anyone. In order to know me, you have to talk to me.
If I’m wearing a t-shirt and jeans while walking down the street, am I on my way to the library or to buy drugs? Who knows. Am I going to volunteer my time or go to school, or am I going to a dog fighting party in someone’s backyard? Keep the guesses coming because you’ll never know until you take the time to talk to me and get to know the real me.
That’s why I like a t-shirt and jeans. You’re forced to get to know the real me, not the pretend me exemplified by clothes I paid money for. Plus, I don’t get suckered in to any ridiculous fly-by-night trends.
I don’t know anything about fashion. I didn’t know my belt was supposed to match my shoes until I was 21. You don’t think you should be listening to me, but I’m just the guy you need to hear this from.
Picture a guy walking down the street wearing an Affliction shirt. I’m not going to tell you what you’re thinking, but I bet we’re thinking the same thing. That’s where I get my sense of fashion from. I see other guys doing it wrong, and I just avoid everything they do.