RANT ON WRITING HERE/ROGUES’ GALLERY

I No Longer Give a Shit

Here’s to writing whatever the hell pops into our sluggish brains

Even though we’ve engaged in mutual avoidance through the years, aka, we’re not exactly friendly, I have to hand it to another writer here for inspiring me to do what I’ve been thinking about for a while. And that's to share whatever crap is floating through my head at any given moment. And the commode is full, so hold on, people and keep the hand sanitizer close.

I may link to his story at the end of this one, but I’m not sure that he needs any more pub. And I’m not sure I want to give it. Let’s see how I feel when I’m done spewing.

That said, going forward, I’m going to write, “whatever.” And I invite you to do the same. The reasoning behind this initiative: This platform has turned into a cesspool of wannabe, no-talent, content-shitting, ass-kissing, self-aggrandizing, uber-pompous, pimple-popping, nose-picking, face-fucking, dry-humping, hot-air-blowing, pronoun-obsessed — jerkoffs.

I’m sorry for that last one as I don’t mean to offend, but really? Can’t we just be who we are without spelling it out? Yeah, I realize people are assholes and I get the reasoning behind the she/her, him/his, etc. But when did we all become so hypersensitive?

Here’s my pronoun and feel free to borrow, anytime. “It.”

So, guys, if you want to lose the angst and just embrace the reality that you’re a hamster in a wheel here, throw “authenticity” and “heartfelt” and all that shit out the window. Because, at the end of the month, all it gets us is abject humiliation that we keep giving it our all, for so little.

Without further ado, I’m going to share my rambling thoughts in the here and now.

As I was doing my thing on the treadmill today, I watched the third episode of HBO’s series, Mosaic, directed by Steven Soderburg, which one would think might indicate quality viewing. But in my not-so-humble opinion, I believe it sucks boogers. At least, thus far.

It “stars” Sharon Stone who’s killed off fairly quickly but from what I understand, appears in flashbacks. And this is not a spoiler because I wouldn’t do that to y‘all. The series setup plainly states this up front. That said, I’m not recommending that you watch Stone emote.

As you may recall, I wrote a story about the lithesome blonde actress as we’d spent a day emailing back and forth. I pitched her my screenplay, “The Month We Fell Apart,” and stupidly, even though she liked it, she passed. Dumb move by an intelligent broad.

“Sharon, what can I tell you? You fucked up when you refused to produce my script that you deemed ‘excellent,’ but not what you were looking for. Were you looking for shite? Because that’s what Mosaic is. And, unfortunately for you, your performance is shite. Perhaps you were going for an older-yet-still-sexy Catherine Tramell from Basic Instinct. My guess is you went straight for the paycheck as some of your scenes are laughable. But I’m not laughing. I’m just pissed. No Golden Globe for you, girl! By the way. Lose the edgy haircut. It’s not doing you any favors.”

Ergo, skip Mosaic, folks. Because Hollywood is a lot like Medium, where turds rise to the top and the shitters reap the rewards.

Bah.

Let’s see, what else has been on my mind? Oh yeah, when the weather is decent here in the Chicago area, I like to take long walks outside. See how the old hood is doing.

Recently, on at least two occasions, adorable, yapping dogs ran out of nowhere, straight into my path. These were small, energetic, easily-jacked-up dogs, like chihuahuas, I believe. There were no humans in sight.

Now, one of the streets I walk down is a sidestreet where drivers routinely go over the limit. It would take nothing for a spooked dog to run into the street and be killed or severely injured.

I. Hate. To. See. This. Not only does it stress me out; it makes me incredibly pissed off.

The first time it happened, as the doggie bounced along in front of me, I saw a screen door open on the other side of the street. I yelled at the invisible asshole behind it and asked if the dog belonged to them.

Apparently, it did, and the dog scampered back to its home.

I hate people.

The next time it happened, with almost the exact same scenario, I noticed an open garage door nearby. I shouted at least three times before I saw signs of life. Again, I asked if the dog belonged to the individual who I was barely able to see.

In response, I received a grunt of confirmation. This asshole was rattling around his or her garage completely oblivious that their dog running all over the street.

Naturally, I gave them shit before continuing on my walk but it continues to bother me.

Does it need to be said that when you share your life with a dog and/or cat or rabbit or whatever the hell tickles your fancy, you need to take care of it? Is this such a hard concept to grasp?

Oy.

Now I’m wondering what to have for dinner. I’m thinking leftovers as last night I made some pretty tasty chicken. I mixed up tenders with boneless thighs, smothered them in olive oil and some bottled marinade, and baked them. Pretty damned tasty.

My husband’s not a leftovers guy so it might be eggs for him. I don’t know.

After I finish the chicken, I’m going straight veg for a while. See if that improves my disposition because I don’t like eating animals.

What other bullshit can I share with you? Oh yeah. Tomorrow, we’re going to a combination memorial thing/par-tay for the man who owned the bar where my husband and I met over forty years ago. It’s in Chicago’s Rogers Park neighborhood and the place will be rife with geezers.

He recently “passed,” and I’m expecting to see a shit-ton of people from the old days, some of whom I’m sure I’ll blank on.

The event starts fairly early, which means I’ll have to keep my drinking in check. If I don’t, I’ll be face down in the weeds by five pm.

Let’s see. What else? Oh, I was just contacted on Twitter in a DM by someone who professes to be a sourcing specialist, or some such bullshit. Allegedly, it’s a well-paying, freelance writing gig. Oddly, she said, that according to my dashboard, I’m a great fit. In fact, she said a lot of things without telling me what the actual gig is. And in less than perfect English, if you get my drift.

What do you think? Fucking Twitter Troll? Because that’s what I’m thinking, too. Son of a bitch but we’re surrounded by lunatics.

Do you, like me, feel as if the world is coming to an end? Certainly the people in Ukraine who are at the mercy of a madman, are feeling it.

Civilians mowed down in the streets. Children, shot at like so much skeet. Why hasn’t something “been done” about Vlad the Impaler? Each morning, I wake up, hoping to tune into CNN and learn that he’s been dispatched.

I think Alan Asnen is hot. Brains and a sense of humor get me going every time.

Okay. Don’t get your undies in a wad. Yes, I’m married, but that doesn’t mean I’m dead for chrissake. My husband knows I think our thirty-something, handyguy is hot. Doesn’t mean anything untoward.

Unfortunately, Alan may bounce as so many other talented writers are considering because Medium might be, as The Garrulous Glaswegian says, “going down the gurgler.”

What passes for my earnings has certainly gone down the gurgler. But, at least this stunning lack of appreciation has resulted in my having another go at the script I let fall by the wayside so I could spend more time here, getting repeatedly kicked in the ass.

Alright. That’s enough rambling for down. I’ve depleted by store of sniveling, driveling bullshit. For now, anyway. But, hey, I’m looking forward to yours!

And thanks, Reuben Salsa, for laying down in a very funny story, what I’ve long been thinking. I’m sure you’ll be able to find it without my help as I’m way too tired.

© Sherry McGuinn, 2022. All Rights Reserved.

If you can handle it, read every one of my stories and those of other fab Medium writers. I’ll get a couple of shekels and you’ll have full access to this whole joint! https://sherrymcguinn.medium.com/membership Or, fuck it.

And if this story this gave you goosies, please check out the ones I’ve conveniently linked to, as well as my newsletter, Sherry Raw.

Sherry McGuinn is a slightly-twisted, longtime Chicago-area writer and award-winning screenwriter. She is currently pitching her newest screenplay, “The Month We Fell Apart,” a drama with dark, comedic overtones and inspired by a true story, as well as “DEAD TIRED,” a female-driven, ass-kicking thriller.