I was reading my little brother Luis's blog yesterday. He had no regard for punctuation. He wrote lots of scenes, like in a play. Dialogues. Mostly. In one post he invites all my friends to come to his going-away party for a trip. "I hear you boy," I said softly as I read that.

He loved my friends. And they loved him. They were very good to him, and much more patient with the boy than I was. 

I was trying to track down one of his friends from the Best Buddies program named Bri, who I had met in person. To apologize, actually. Me and Luis were fighting online on Facebook (making fun of each other) and she had been worried that I meant what I was saying about locking him in the trunk of the car or something absurd, and had notified people in the program and they had blocked me from Luis's profile. I had written an extremely sarcastic, totally unnecessary email to her. Because I was being an ass. After Luis's funeral, which I did not attend, she wrote a very nice email with her condolences. It was written in reply to my jerk-ass email from maybe a year or more before. I never responded to her; I hadn't responded to any of the thoughtful messages sent to me by many of my friends either, which I also regret.

After years of regret, I decided to do something about it. (Is this my style now? I hope not...) I emailed her back, but of course, it bounced because I only had her Best Buddies email.

Briana Marshall, if you're out there somewhere, here's the email I sent you in response to your email from March 2, 2009:

"Hi Bri,

I was putting together some stories about Luis for my mom for Mother's Day and I came across this email. 

I wish I had told you then you how much this email meant to me at the time. I was so devastated at the time, and messages like this were like little stars twinkling in the darkness. 

I hope you're well. 

Thank you again,

Memo"

Things that annoy me/Things I consider bad in Horror Movies and movies in general

1. The forgotten wound. When a character gets an injury and proceeds completely or mostly unhindered. There's an argument that can be made for extreme wounds that might temporarily not feel as severe at first, or obtained during a moment of high stress. Even in that case, the pain itself would not be the only problem. The ability to fully use your limbs when you've been stabbed by something should not be the same as it was pre-stabbing. It's an even bigger issue with main characters because if otherwise the story is good and I'm feeling empathy or just invested in the character, I'm more aware of their injuries. 

2. The forgotten weapon. Usual example is the scene in which the hero fights back against the armed villain or goons. I'm so tired of seeing a character with a gun get knocked out, and then the hero does not immediately take the gun. Usually they run or go attack someone else. Then the person we're not watching gets the gun back, and that's that. If the characters in a movie are American, I assure you they would be going for the gun. 

3. The forgotten threat/antagonist. Similar to the forgotten weapon. The hero will push over/knock out the villain and then go to rescue their friend without eliminating the threat of the villain. Then of course the villain comes back to attack them in the middle of their rescue. Who could have seen it coming? Um, anyone who has been in a fight, seen a fight, or known people who have thought about fighting. 

Yes, people do stupid stuff when they panic, and make bad decisions while in crazy situations. Even regular situations. Like me making this list that will change nothing.

Holidays still bum me out a little. I miss my littlest brother, Luis. He was hilarious. He was frustrating as hell, too. 

Totally worth it.

Found it: http://enterthelopez.blogspot.com/

Sitting here, icing my foot, listening to more techno music and thinking about my mind. There are different names for different types of electronic-based music, but it's all techno to me. It's what I use because I know there are more accurate ways to describe it, but I don't care to learn it. I suspect the names of music genres are arbitrary. Very strongly suspect.

I don't eat much at work these days. I used to bring stuff to make sandwiches. Now I have a bag of cashews, a bag of pistachios, and some other trail mixes. If this trend continues, I'll soon be dipping my head into an open sack of grain like a horse.

Neigh. Hey, I'm the pony express over here. 

I've given zero thought to purchasing that device that lets me type and nothing else. Okay, not zero thought, but zero merit. This laptop works well enough. Although the security issues of carrying around just a typing device are probably fewer. I have some basic encryption on this laptop. If an agent of nefariousness were targeting me while I was traveling, they'd certainly go for the laptop. The typing device, not so much. They might, I suppose, if they wanted to steal my screenplay.

Except I have exactly zero screenplays.

I have exactly two ideas for tele-stories. One in which an insurance agent in the future goes around assessing risk across the galaxy for their job. (It's basically Futurama.) The other is a version of Moby Dick, mockumentary style. I think it would be the best way to showcase the humor. Oh, only of Ishmael. I'm picturing the older Ishmael talking to the camera as he tells the story. One of the things that makes Moby Dick hilarious is that Ishmael is older and more "dignified" when he is describing his youthful self and has a clinical detachment, but clearly he was freaking out when these events occurred. Lot less chill.

For example, when he's on Starbuck's whale-boat and it gets smashed up by a whale, Cool Ishmael describes himself saying stuff like "Am I to understand that this is a rather common occurrence and that I am to be expected to continue this endeavor?" when he is pulled from the water. This is where it would cut to the young Ishmael on the Pequod losing his shit while everyone else is acting like it's no big deal. He would be dripping out, demanding to be placed with a less reckless mate, when someone will explain that Starbuck is fairly conservative and known for safety, for a whaler. Then back to old Ishmael, who will pull out a copy of the will he drew up that night (yes, he probably loses everything when the ship sinks, but it could be corked up in a small bottle (as he planned on this possibility as well)) and then say something like "I leave all my possessions to my mom and Queequeg" and old Ishmael can smile and say "I see no need to update it just yet." 

Spin-off Series: The Book of Queequeg

There is a smart alarm on my smart watch that will smartly decide when it's the best time for me to wake up in the morning. I've never used it because if it were really that smart, it will know that I would try to eke out every last minute of being in bed and attempting to get me up any earlier would be futile.

Those moments I am warm and remember my dreams are precious to me. I remember one month where I decided not to use a snooze alarm. I could do it, but it was odd. Now, I split the difference. I have two alarms set. One goes off twenty minutes before I have to get up, so I get the feeling of waking up and staying in bed in quiet defiance of the waking world. Then the second one goes off and I get up without hitting a snooze or anything. 

What does this say about me, I wonder? No I don't. In the mornings I am past wondering. Sleep or get off the pot. No sleep til sleep. Ask not for whom the sleeper dreams; he dreams for thee.

Just listened to Motion II (feat. Les Siecles, Francois-Xavier Roth, Vanessa Wagner) & Vanessa Wagner. Now I feel like I need to be on an adventure. Gearing up for a mission. Sharpening my sword and wit, polishing my armor and panache, waxing my handlebar mustache. Packing a light snack to keep my energy up. I mean, I can go for days without food, but I much prefer not to.

There's a writer I've just come across, Thomas Ligotti. He does Lovecraft-esque stuff, in his own way. I'm enjoying what I've read so far. I think of the corporate working world as a sort of Lovecraftian nightmare. My day starts trying to do a thing, but usually before I'm halfway through some other dreary horror rises from the depths of email to demand to be dealt with. It's good training.

Yes, the Lovecraftian horror of being mildly annoyed all day while still being relatively comfortable. I can even control the air conditioning.

My medical professional friends are getting their vaccines for Covid now. First step in the slow trickle of remedy. This comes to mind because perhaps I will have office mates again. How long has it been? I don't remember. Me, alone, with the buzzing of the overhead lights. Jokes on you, corporate nightmare, I don't mind being alone. Nothing will change, really. I still dress and act as if other people are in the office. Mostly. I guess sometimes I do listen to music not through my headphones. 

Well, it will likely still be months before behavioral patterns reestablish themselves. If they ever do, now that people know what is possible. 

Work from home, learn from home, love from home. 

Play recorded sounds of buzzing overhead lights from home.