Going On Hiatus Again

I mentioned a while ago that I needed a career change. An opportunity has opened up to me recently and I have decided to take it. However, it will require me to put this blog on hold for a while. I estimate about 6 months before I can take this seriously again.

I think overall this will be good. This blog started off as an experiment to give me an excuse to write. Even if I do not return to this blog, I will still be writing. I have projects that I work on outside of this blog and maybe I will share them with you all one day.

If I do return, I would also like to revamp the website itself. I purposefully made it very minimalistic from the start but there is room to improve, especially in the realm of organization and front-end presentation of the individual posts.

Until I return, I hope everyone stays safe. If this is my last post, thank you to the 5 people who consistently came back to read my work. No matter what, I wish you all the best of luck in your quest to figure out how to live and die well.

-Danger Wonka

JRR Tolkien Started Over Many Times [On Writing]

I have restarted one of my stories many times. I think of it as my magnum opus, the story that I have put the most into and the one that means the most to me. 

It is a culmination of all the things that I enjoy in life and my overall perspective on the world. More than anything, I think I am trying to write the story that I want to read, the story that I would have given to myself when I was a young person growing up in the world.

I first started this story nine years ago when I was a freshman in college. I could also argue that I started this story when I was a child, a grade school student alone in his room trying to figure out how to forge intangible ideas into a cohesive story. 

At this point, the story has gone through four or five different iterations. Each time, the story has gone through dramatic shifts and changes in structure, plot, characters, worldbuilding, etc. It has also evolved to match my sensibilities, tastes, and worldview as I continue to grow as a human.

Nine years is a long time to be working on anything. It can seem discouraging but I think that certain works deserve this more slow-paced, revision/reboot method of story crafting.

After all, one of the greatest fantasy trilogies of all time, Lord of the Rings, went through a similar process. J.R.R. Tolkien restarted his story countless times before it finished. In his process, he often found that he would stumble across questions in relation to the plot, history, and lore of Middle Earth. 

His solution was to take a step back for long periods of time, often going months without touching the story as he tried to answer these questions as the author. By the time he finally had his answers, he often started over from the beginning.

He had several reasons for this. He found that by the time he returned to the story, his ideas about his story had changed so drastically that all of the work from the previous drafts were no longer compatible with his ideas. He also found that by starting over, he was reacclimating himself to the world that he was plugging into and manifesting into our own reality and onto the page.

So don’t feel too discouraged if you are in a similar situation. I used to be rather frustrated with this method which appeared messy and inefficient at first. A better way to look at this process is to compare it to a katana. The traditional method of forging this Japanese sword is to reforge the blade many times over to purify and strengthen the material. I believe stories are the same. Each iteration of the story has to go through drafts and revisions anyway, right? I think ideas do, too.

Several weeks ago, I restarted my own story, again, with page one. Little by little, I add words to it. The difference between now and the first version is that I have more of those questions answered. I feel more confident in this draft. 

For those of you who are struggling with your own stories, who feel trapped in your own cycle of creative purgatory,

I encourage you to find the courage and set aside those artistic doubts. I hope you try again and this time, you are ever closer to forging your master craft.

26. Small Hats, Big Heads

The following is part of a serialized story, Everyone Thinks I Dream of Chocolate. You can find the first chapter here.

I had a phase when I used to spike up my hair using wax and wear a bandana. I thought it was fun until the health inspector came in one day and decided that we all needed to wear hats. 

“Since when did we all have to wear hats?” I asked.

“Technically, we should have been wearing hats this entire time,” Dick said.

“Why didn’t he say so before? This is like the 5th time he has been here since I started.”

Dick shrugged. 

“He didn’t feel like it.”

Finding a hat to wear was a pain in itself. I have a larger-than-average head size. Luckily, my head is proportional to my body so it’s not that apparent. In high school, I had the 2nd largest head in the entire student body but luckily the first place went to Bobby Pak (who later got the nickname, Pac-man). 

Still, narrowly dodging social ridicule is one thing. This doesn’t change the laws of matter. I still needed to find a hat that fit my head. So that weekend, I went to three different stores until finally, I found a snapback that fit if I put it on the very last notch.

At first, I just found this annoying but nothing more. Sure, I couldn’t do my hair up and look nice but at least it saved me several minutes in the bathroom every morning. 

As time went on, however, small things started to get to me. My hair is thick and jet black. If I keep it in a hat for more than five minutes, my hair is going to stay flat for the rest of the day. Worse, the hat seemed to trap all of the sweat and grease of the day. After a long day, I would take off the hat and find a layer of slick, greasy slime caked into my head. 

Worst of all, It made me feel ugly. Sounds vain but it is more than just aesthetics. I felt like a gross person with all of the oily fumes that were expelled from the grill and fryer in the kitchen along with the perspiration my body exhumed from the heat of motion and sweltering humidity of east coast summers. 

After a while, I was constantly aware of it all. Every inconvenience, such as an itch on my scalp was an itch to my mind. I could either take off my gloves to dig into my head for a split second of relief or simply let it exist so I could finish the current batch of chocolates. 

There were times when my hair had grown too long. I tried my best to keep it in the hat but the thick texture of my hair allowed it to fight through the cracks like branches of a tree digging into the earth. Stray bangs would peek out, itch my face or scratch my eyes. Beads of sweat would travel down these branches and land somewhere on my face, continuing down until it became nothing but a wet, salty trail. Again, I would have to make a decision whether to take my gloves off to wipe them off or finish the batch. 

Then, there is the acne. Somehow, the hat had trapped the disgusting particles in my head, driving them into my pores. To this day, I still have this issue where clusters of acne come up in the back of my head and I have not found a way to get rid of them. I have used different soaps, tried scalp scrubs, changing my diet. It is like a living scar, reminding me of my past there. 

The sad part about it is that I like the idea of hats. I want to be able to wear baseball caps. Maybe my giant head is something of natural evolution. Thousands of years ago, my ancestors foresaw a future where humans would wear these things on their heads purely for fashion purposes, leading to a lack of scalp hygiene. This led to my family line having giant heads, a Darwinian evolution designed to keep these contraptions far away as possible. 

Still, humans are humans. We found a way to overcome that I guess. All I know is that there is still acne on the back of my head two years later. All because a health inspector told me, too. I get that he had to do his job. After all, I wouldn’t want to find hair in my food, either.

On the other hand, go fuck yourself. You should have said something from the start.

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25. Yelp

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To Be Continued…

[Table of Contents]

I Have Been Writing On My Phone [On Writing]

I have been busy since I got my new job back in October. I have also been seeing friends, traveling, and going out to do other art projects. 

I haven’t had the most time to just sit down and write like I used to. I do miss it. I have talked in the past about the ritual of writing. I enjoyed setting aside that time to slam away at the keys. I miss sitting on the balcony as the rain hits on the roof with a million taps from the sky.

Having a job disrupted a lot of those daily rituals. I am working my way to getting back into those habits while incorporating work back into my life. I knew that writing had to be one of the first things I had to reintegration into that daily routine.

Initially, the thought of doing all of this on my phone sounded like a nightmare. The medium I write through is an important part of the writing ritual. Having my tablet was like having a small, portable typewriter I could use wherever I went. 

On the surface, Writing long pieces of writing on a phone seems counterintuitive. Typing in portrait mode can be cramped and the writing landscape can seem clunky. Both modes reduce the reading view, making the entire experience even more cramped.

I have always liked the idea of writing on my phone. Childish Gambino famously wrote many of his songs on an iPhone. I know many Gen Z individuals who have written entire school papers on their phones.

Still, I didn’t really try it myself until recently when I started taking full advantage of my phone’s stylus. I have had a Samsung Galaxy Note S20 for about 1 year. At the time, I found the S-pen to be a fun novelty but little else. I went most of my phone’s ownership forgetting that it existed. 

Then, my job asked me to spend the day editing a short video.

“I don’t have my editing computer with me.”

“Can’t you just do it on your phone?”

My boss was right of course. Why couldn’t I just do it on my phone? I downloaded a free video editor app and went to work. That was when I found that simple utility of the S-Pen, especially for people with fat, grubby fingers like me. The needlepoint accuracy of the tip allows me to click around documents with ease. I was no longer blindly tapping and dragging cursors several times.

When I am typing, I tend to keep the pen between my index and middle finger, then pull it out when I need to click or highlight words.

Other notes when I write on my phone:

  • I use Google Docs as my primary word processor. It’s great as it makes it easy to jump from my phone to my other devices.
  • I use Times New Roman at 15pt font. This is optimal for viewing on my phone in portrait mode.
  • I use a single space, then enter twice for each paragraph. It is similar to how these docs would be viewed on WordPress.
  • Sometimes, I turn on “Print Layout” to simulate how it might look on a desktop.

With this format, I would say the most interesting change in my writing style is that I tend to write shorter sentences and paragraphs. This is already a style that I had been considering trying for a while (my ADHD makes it hard to go through longer segments). So far, I like this change.

I have also found that this new ritual leaves me hungry to write more rather than burned out. I complete small segments at a time, usually a paragraph or two, and nothing more. It leaves me time to reflect on my recent additions and explore the next immediate steps in getting works one step closer to completion. This incremental style of writing feels like a good pace for me.

I was surprised by how much I have been enjoying this new change in my writing habit. It’s different and I do miss those longer, more involved sessions but this new ritual is more accessible. Rather than set up my tablet or desktop, I just pull out my phone and go at it. It’s a nice alternative to just blindly scrolling on my phone. I have found that if I catch myself doom scrolling this for too long, I open up a doc and just write for a while.

It makes me excited for this newer generation of smartphones coming out with foldable and rollout screens. The extra screen real estate is going to open. So many doors for what creative people can do with the convenience of their pocket computers. I have no interest in upgrading now but when the time comes, I know that I will be keeping an eye on Samsung’s Z Fold line.

25. Yelp

The following is part of a serialized story, Everyone Thinks I Dream of Chocolate. You can find the first chapter here.

Dick and Lou did not care for Yelp. The one time I brought it up, they went on a 2-minute rant about how everyone on Yelp was an asshole. I was curious so I planned to check out their reviews on my lunch break but Dick beat me to it as if he knew I was going to check anyway.

“See this one is going on about how I yelled at them.” He let out a bellowing laugh. “I remember that day. He was an asshole.”

“What happened?”

“He kept telling me that I should just leave the plastic spoons out on the counter.”

Most of the reviews were nice. They talked about how much they loved our chocolates and how important they are to the local community. The few that brought the score down to 4.5 stars talked about how rude the “male owner” was to customers, and how he had yelled at them.

Having worked there for as long as I did, I found that this yelling was usually warranted. People are used to being pampered to their every whim in the service industry, even if they treat the workers like trash. 

Dick didn’t take any of that. He was willing to give it right back to you. Usually, Dick didn’t really care that someone wrote something about him on Yelp. In fact, I’m sure that if it wasn’t for Lou, Dick would be even more unhinged. 

Still, I didn’t have the same disdain for it until one day, a couple walked in. They were both skinny. Their faces were spent, drained. I could see lines carved into them like the cracks in a rock wall. From what? I didn’t know. It could have been drugs but I found stress can do just as much damage to a person’s body. 

Oh, and they had a dog. He was a yapper, too. Not a barker. A yapper. One is scary. The other is annoying. You can guess which one I hate more. I’m already someone who doesn’t want to raise a child, let alone a pet. This didn’t make me want to change my mind. Yap Yap Yap. Every sound coming out of it made me think it looked more and more like a football. 

“Sorry, no dogs,” Dick said.

The man said something neither of us could hear very well. The dog’s yapping distorted his words into a high-pitched nothing. 

“State laws say any place that serves food can’t have dogs in the establishment.”

The man pointed a finger at us and said (or at least I think he said over the yapping),

“I am a veteran. This is my service dog. How dare you discriminate against me. Wait till I get more lawyer on the phone.”

The couple left. 

“What did he say?” Dick asked.

“He said something about a service dog?”

“Oh. Well if that’s a service dog they can come in.”

Service dogs fall under a special classification. They get special permission to enter establishments because they aid disabled people to navigate the world. Their special training kicks in when their vest is put on them. A properly trained service dog might be a wild animal one minute and a professional the second they get their vest on.

I went to go tell them that they were fine to come in but they were already out the Mill door. Dick and I looked at each other. We shrugged then went back to work.

Several hours later, Lou comes in from running errands and gives both of us a look. It is the same one a mother gives you when you fucked up. Dick and I looked at each other knowing we were fucked. The look on his face told me he had no idea why and I’m pretty sure I had the same face, too.

“What?” Dick said.

“Have you seen our Yelp page?”

“Why the heck would I check the Yelp page? It’s not social media.”

“Did you kick a couple out today because of a dog?”

The realization hit both of us. We explained to her what actually happened.

“Now, they want to sue us. And report us to the county.”

Lou spent the rest of the day on the phone trying to talk to the couple and apologize. Dick went on the phone for a bit and explained what happened from his perspective and apologized. He seemed genuine about it. The second he got off the phone, however, he was spitting curses into the air. 

The next day, he was still sulking about it. 

“You know that by law, establishments can’t ask someone with a service dog for any form of identification? Plus, you can buy those vests anywhere for $20.”

Later that night, I was talking to Chrissy about it.

“You know, I don’t think that dog was an actual service animal.”

“What do you mean?” I said as I sipped on my miso soup.

“I mean, with all of Dick’s complaints, he might be right. Didn’t you say that the dog was barking a lot?”

“Yapping.”

“Well, either way, service dogs aren’t supposed to do that.”

To this day, that Yelp review is still on our page. A small smudge in a series of small smudges among a tapestry of otherwise glowing reviews. Still, I wonder if that veteran is still out there. Dick has a theory that the guy is a scammer, going around trying to incite lawsuits. Apparently, he did some digging and this is not the guy’s first rodeo.

What I piece of shit. I bet he isn’t even a real veteran. 

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24.Trey

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To Be Continued…

[Table of Contents]

I Am Thinking About Making a Career Change…

And by that I mean get a career. Since I graduated, I have had a series of jobs. I have never had a career. Since college, I have had jobs as a front desk employee, an autism job coach, a chocolatier, a grilled cheese chef, and a part-time managing editor for a start-up video game magazine. 

This year, I will be turning 27. I am currently working as a part-time administrative and distribution manager. These titles seem more impressive than they actually are. In reality, most of these jobs were small businesses. In many ways, it makes the most sense for me to work in this environment. I have never been a fan of large institutions and infrastructures. My social paranoia constantly gets the better of me. I can be incredibly personable. I want my life to be clean and simple so I can spend my time outside my job to work on my art or relax. 

However, there is a cost to committing to this type of life. Money is always squeezed tight. Doing large-scale operations with small resources always puts a certain amount of pressure. It affects efficiency. There are some days when I stay extra hours that I didn’t plan on. Other days, I am three hours into a shift and doing nothing but go on my phone or work on things like this. 

I can’t foresee myself working in a place like this and ever making more than $60,000, even if I got full-time. I’m not trying to say that money is the source of happiness but I have been broke my entire life. I have always lived simply and no matter what I will continue to do so. Yet, there are times when I wish I had the extra funds for art projects. I have looked at old games on Steam and passed on it because I didn’t know if I wanted to spend $5. Even going to the movies, one of my favorite rituals in life, is something I have passed on many times because I have to consider my wallet.

Then, there is the lack of health care. I aged out last year and have been waiting for my Medicaid to go through. I turned it in sometime in January and was told that I would hear back in two weeks. It’s been pending for two months. 

Then, there is Sophie. Unlike myself, She had spent the 3 years after undergrad completing her master’s degree. Now she has a well-paying job, insurance, and a 401k. Without her, I would not be living my best life right now. Throughout the year and a half that I was unemployed, she has helped me financially and supported me through rough times. Her greatest gift was to remind me that I was not a burden and that this will pass. 

This is why I have to make a career change. I cannot keep living like this. I just hope my current plan does not result in losing my ability to keep making art. 

24.Trey

The following is part of a serialized story, Everyone Thinks I Dream of Chocolate. You can find the first chapter here.

Trey was always tired. As a maintenance worker, I would see him wander back and forth from the East Wing of the Old Town Mill to the West, then back again. I’ve only talked to him several times while he worked there. He was friendly but this kindness was usually clouded by irritation and exhaustion.

In one of the first conversations I ever had with him, I was taking a smoke break outside. He came out of the garage with a trash bag over his shoulder. As he was doing his job, we got to chatting.

“You know, I was flipping out because my daughters got into my Amazon account and bought some books. Cost $15 dollars and I don’t have that money and I’m trying to get a refund but customer service is putting me through all this bullshit.”

I smiled and agreed with his frustration with the world. I couldn’t relate because I never had kids but I smiled and played along. Still, I thought it was strange. This was a grown man angry about $15 worth of easily refundable money. Even weirder, Amazon makes it very easy to cancel or return orders so I didn’t really understand why he was so frustrated.

Still, it was his life, not mine. I understood that life was hard so I agreed with him all the way through until I finished my break. 

Later, I came to realize two things about Trey:

  1. He was in his late 20’s, raising two daughters who had different mothers. 
  2. To cope with the first point, he was always high.

“Trey? Good kid but he needs to wear a fucking condom,” Dick once said.

Sometime after that first conversation, two girls started showing up at the Old Town Mill almost every day. It was the middle of summer and school had finished for the year. The Mill was a popular place for the local kids to loiter and I figured that was their MO. 

Then, one day, I was in the kitchen cleaning the floors when I heard some yelling. I ran to see what it was all about and saw Trey yelling at the two girls. His pupils were bloodshot, a combination of weed in his body and sweat dripping into his eyes. The girls were looking down. They looked to the side, with an awkward half-smile, marking their guilt and the tension of the moment. 

I’m not exactly sure what they did but I didn’t stick around to find out. I had enough experience dealing with stressed parents to know it is never a good idea to help when they were in this zone. I went back to the kitchen.

Several weeks later, on a lazy Wednesday. I heard the drumming of quick, loud footsteps coming from the eatery. It reminded me of an elementary school gym, the way that the sound carried throughout the Mill in a thunderous echo. I went to investigate and saw Trey’s daughters running around. They were probably playing tag, weaving between tables, booths, and chairs. I had just cleaned the space after the lunch rush. It was organized when I left it and now it was in disarray again.

“Girls! Girls!”

They both stop and look at me. 

“You guys can’t be playing in here, ok?”

They both give me a nod.

I was about to leave when I had a thought. I looked around for a moment, then asked,

“Where’s your dad?”

They both shrugged their shoulders.

I waited with them for a couple of minutes. I made sure to switch my gaze between the three different entryways into the eatery. I checked my watch. 5 minutes had passed. I had to finish my current set of chocolate-dipped peanut butter crackers or the batch would be ruined. 

I also didn’t want them to just sit there in the eatery waiting for their dad. As a maintenance guy, Trey could be anywhere in the building, even the places that very few people knew about. That’s when I remembered the first conversation I had with Trey.

“Hey, do you guys like to read?”

They both gave me a nod and a smile. 

I walked them over to the Book Store and told the worker what was happening. 

“Do you mind letting them hang here until Trey comes back?”

She agreed. 

The Bookstore is right next to the chocolate shops so it was still in my sight. I went back to my chocolates, making sure to keep an eye out for Trey. 

10 minutes later, I spotted him enter the Eatery from the back patio.

“Hey,” I called out. “They are in the book store!”

He rushed past me as I was taking off my apron. When I caught up to him, he was grabbing them by the wrist.

“I told you to stay exactly where you were,” he said. 

“We did.”

“No, you did not. I was looking all over for you.”

“Trey,” I said, “I told them to wait here for you.”

“Why would you do that?”

“Well we couldn’t find you and I knew you would make your way to the chocolate store eventually.”

“Why are you telling my kids what to do? I could see them just fine from the roof!”

I didn’t tell him that he couldn’t have seen them because they were inside running around in the eatery. I felt there was no point in pushing the issue.

“Sorry, man.”

“It’s fine. Just please don’t tell my kids what to do. I got it. Alright?”

I nodded. He took his daughters to the end of the hall and turned the corner. 

The next week, I was making a set of chocolate-dipped pretzels when Dick came back from a smoke break. 

“I talked to one of the maintenance guys. Apparently, they had to let Trey go.”

“What? Why?”

“His daughters. The deal was that they could come as long as he was doing his job. Seems he couldn’t cut it.”

I still wonder if my intervention caused Trey to lose his job. This was not the first time that my attempts to help someone backfired, especially if there are kids involved. It makes me wonder if parenting and childhood are just cycles of attempting protection and inevitable futility. Luckily, Chrissy and I have no interest in having kids. Our biggest argument is whether or not we want to get a dog. Personally, I don’t even want to be bothered by the prospect of raising a pet. My problems are simple and I would like to keep them that way. Unfortunately for Trey, his problems were anything but straightforward.

It has been over 2 years since I last saw Trey. I hope wherever he is now, whatever he is doing, his life has gotten simpler. I hope his daughters, probably in middle school now, are old enough to take care of themselves a little more. I hope that at the very least, $15 is not enough to set him off into a stress-induced panic. 

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23. Credit Card? No Problem

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To Be Continued…

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Smoothie Bowls

I had all of these plans today. After work, I was going to give several friends a call regarding some art projects. I was going to shoot a video for my youtube channel. To top it off, I was going to try my hand at coding Arduino software. 

Instead, I am sitting in bed watching Batman Beyond while typing this blog post. The reason is lying right next to me. My girlfriend has a history of chronic illness and today it is crippling. 

I had already started my phone call with my first contact during my drive home from work. As I walked in through the front door, I looked at her and she gave me a look of pure exhaustion from simply existing. 

A part of me is upset that I can’t do all the things I planned. Especially since I’m busy for the next few nights and won’t be able to do any of this until Saturday, which is traditionally a spontaneous day.

Then again, it is unfair to feel such things. 

And now that I am in bed, I am having a good time. I have been pretty busy myself with very little room to breathe. Sitting here, rewatching one of my favorite shows as a kid. Getting some time to work on my blog. In a way, I feel like I needed this.

I just wish Sophie could say the same. 

She has been struggling with this illness for some time. She has had to change her diet and start taking medication. The doctors don’t even know what is wrong with her despite nearly half a year of tests. All they do is shrug and give her the bill. People wonder why I consider doctors nothing more than car mechanics for humans.

She has snapped at me twice, followed by “sorries.” Today, I was patient. I got her a heating pad, ice packs, hot water, and dinner. I gave her hugs, kisses, and pats on the back. I turned on her favorite shows when she wanted to watch tv and made sure to turn the volume down while I am watching mine. 

I am being good at this today. Some days, I’m bad at this. Especially towards the beginning, I would yell, then she would yell. I would try to understand but get angry at the fact that I can’t understand. I am never mad at her but furious that this is happening. I try to find solutions but become enraged when no obvious answer presents itself. In a lot of ways, I am a simple man. If there is a problem, I want to fix it quickly and move on with my life. 

Unfortunately, chronic illness does not have quick fixes or answers. It does not care about you or your suffering. I used to think it was a cruel joke by the universe personified, laughing in its evil lair as it plots its next scheme. As an adult, I realize that it can’t be personified and there is no rational force to get mad at. This makes it all many times worse. 

Still, I am trying to make the best of it. Even though we live together, how many days do we have together? With my busy schedule, there are some days that I barely get to see Sophie, even if I am home. 

So instead of doing all the things I planned, I am spending time with my favorite person while I write blogs and watch Batman Beyond. Sophie is lying next to me. She is struggling, but alive. Even as she feels defeated by the world, she manages to stay beautiful in her way. She tells me of foods she wants to eat, like smoothie bowls.

“Wait…what the heck is a smoothie bowl?”

She shows me a picture of it. It’s a smoothie in a bowl with mixed fruits and nuts on top, eaten with a spoon. 

23. Credit Card? No Problem

The following is part of a serialized story, Everyone Thinks I Dream of Chocolate. You can find the first chapter here.

Actually, it was a big problem. In the year 2019, with high-speed internet, smartphones, and digital currency, our workplace was hooked up to dial-up. In an age where cashless is king, Lou’s was in a weird place in time, roughly 10 years in the past. 

Dick was an old school capitalist and if there was one thing he loved, it was traditional dead presidents inked on green, cotton-like paper. It is a physical representation of the power that circulated throughout the store, the mill, the country, and the planet. 

Still, it was the late 2010s. Everyone had a credit card. So most of our transactions took at least 30 seconds. It wasn’t a problem during the week when customers drifted in and out between long intervals of time. 

During the weekends, it was a nightmare. Lines would form during peak hours. I would push the credit card into the slot and wait. I would look up and several groups of people would join the line like drops of water joining in osmosis to form a puddle. The credit card reader would beep. 

“Just need your signature, here…Thank you very much.”

I would look up again to see the line had gotten even longer. The puddle was now a river. 

There were usually two, maybe three of us taking orders but there was only one credit card machine. On the rare occasion that the other store was quiet, we could run the total on the other machine. This meant bringing the customer over to the chocolate store, wading through crowds of customers and incoming pedestrian traffic, and hoping that by the time we got there, the credit card machine would still be unoccupied.

Usually, both stores were stuffed with people trying to eat sandwiches or chocolate. Our machines had a line of employees waiting to use the machine. It was like being at the DMV. Dick made sure to voice his disdain.

“Oh my god,” he would say. “So god damn slow.”

The long wait wasn’t good for my ADHD, either. I was undiagnosed and unmedicated. I would stare at the screen and my mind would wander into several other daydreams before the machine finally beeped. Sometimes, I was quick enough to get right back to work.
However, executive dysfunction has a funny way of playing tricks on you. It is a form of tunnel vision. You walk into it from one entrance coming from one task. Then, you sluggishly push through the vortex as you try to make it out the other end onto the next task. 

“Thank you very much. Have a nice day…oh your card?” It was still in my hand.

“Thank you very much. Have a nice day…oh this isn’t your card?” The customer had wandered off because they were also caught up in their bullshit. I had been too caught up in my own to remind them to pick up their card.

“Thank you very much. Take care…oh, you didn’t get your chocolates?” It was sitting on the counter and I had forgotten to give it to them. 

The internet was also unreliable. I chalked it up to the Mill’s old infrastructure. The credit card reader had a habit of disconnecting at random times. When this happened, I had to follow a loose set of procedures, hoping it would work again. 

First, I would simply try again. Sometimes, this worked and we only gained another 30 seconds in waiting. This is the best-case scenario because usually, I had to do this several times, adding entire minutes to the process. 

In the worst possible scenario, I had to reset the machine. I had to shut it off manually by going behind the counter, unplugging the cord that was buried in a sea of wires, then plug it in again. The reader’s screen would go black, then a flash of light would bloom off the small, one-inch screen. Then, we would wait as the machine read “Loading…” 

This was another minute of our time wasted. 

Then, there were the customers who would try to pay with contactless methods. Our machine was old. Dick and Lou are like most people and try to put off updating software until the last possible moment. Sometimes it worked ok. Samsung and Paypal never gave us too much trouble. Apple Pay was always a crapshoot to the point where Dick outright banned it just so he wouldn’t have to deal with the headache.

Personally, I would have loved it if we could go contactless. When it worked, it was the quickest way to pay. I single tap and everything was golden. No waits, no hassle. I’m pretty sure the machine just needed to be replaced with a newer model or at least just an update. But Dick hated wasting time and money. To be fair, I can’t blame him. Neither do I.

I remember one morning an official from the county department came by and asked to check out the elevator. Due to the Mill’s unusual layout and history, it wasn’t uncommon for Mill infrastructure to be a part of some of the businesses. The elevator closet was located in our Deli, behind a stainless steel table.

“Sure,” I said. “What for?”

“We’ve been getting some weird interference with the elevator phone. Every elevator needs a working phone for safety reasons.”

Dick popped his head out of the kitchen.

“Oh yeah. No problem,” he said as he pulled out his keys. I couldn’t tell if his voice was louder than usual or if that was his usual loud voice. 

“Just give me a minute to clean up back here.”

I helped him move the table, the metal screeching against the hard ground as we did so. He opened the door, then went inside the closet and made sure to close it, leaving very little exposed to us on the outside. When he came back out, I thought I noticed him kick something gray into the corner. He was sweating, too. Again, I didn’t think much of it. It was the middle of summer and the Mill got humid during this time of year.

The inspector went inside and for 10 minutes, we waited. When he was done, Dick asked him if everything was ok.

“Oh yeah. Sometimes, these old lines just need to restart. I plugged it in and out. Everything is working now. Sorry to bother yall. Have a good one.”

Dick made sure that the inspector had gotten into his car and left before he put the table back. He picked up what I now saw as a grey ethernet wire. We went inside the closet with it. I heard a distinct click before he came back outside. 

“What was that?” I asked.

Dick gave me a smirk. 

“Why do you think the credit card reader is so slow?”

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22. Hot Dog Hot Tub

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To Be Continued…

[Table of Contents]

The Batman (2022) Review

If you are using directors as a metric, this is Batman’s 5th film iteration. If you are counting actors, this is the 6th. Each version has brought something different to its viewers. If there is anything that Matt Reeves does with The Batman (2022), it is bringing an original tone, aesthetic, and style to Batman’s cinematic potential. With my first viewing, I can’t say that this is my favorite version. That accolade still goes to Christopher Nolan’s literary take. However, it is a version that I find incredibly intriguing to the point of wanting to watch it again and receive sequels in the future. 

I will start with Gotham City. I have previously written an article about how Tim Burton’s Gotham is my favorite version thus far and this still reigns true. However, there are interesting artistic choices made here that I think calls back to that other world. This is a world that is also anachronistic. Modern technology is juxtaposed with old, gothic architecture. Days are muted grey while nights are starkly lit by street lamps and floodlights. 

This anachronism is felt in the tone of the movie as well. There is a blend of various influences from Kurt Cobain to the Zodiac Killer. The excellent soundtrack calls back to 90’s grunge while the story itself is a mix of modern serial killer thrillers and old-school detective noir. The cast can be fantastical, like Batman in his battle suit style armor, just as it can be realistic, like the Penguin, depicted here as an ugly mobster whose grotesque side is played in inner emotionality rather than overt physicality. 

Even Batman’s arsenal is something of a unique blend, a mix of high-armored chest pieces, heavy combat boots, and blatant arm guards. This hodgepodge of high and low end is fitting as this Batman is only two years into the job, still trying to figure out his craft. The batmobile is a straight-up American Muscle car, whose paint job is rough and coarse the engine is exposed to illuminate its fire like hell flames. Overall, it is a unique blend that I enjoy immensely. Batman as a character has always been malleable and this is the most balanced version of the character I have ever seen, combining the realistic depictions of Christopher Nolan and the hyper-stylized world of Tim Burton.

The story itself plays more heavily into Batman’s detective side. I don’t necessarily agree with some of the other reviewers who comment that this is Batman’s first real detective story on film. I always felt that the Dark Knight has many of those elements woven in. Unlike that movie, however, The Batman truly dives into that genre and it is that commitment to it that I enjoy. The movie is just under 3 hours long but the script drip feeds the audience with clues, turns, and revelations to keep them engaged throughout the entire runtime. 

This commitment to the detective genre is pared well with the chosen villain of the film, the Riddler. I am not sure if the Riddler has ever been as overtly portrayed as a Zodiac analog in the comics, but it is a creative choice that works well in this film. The mask, style of riddles, and portrayal by Paul Dano all work together. Dano’s Riddler is horrifying, choosing to play with the psychology of his victims, onlookers, and film audience in the same way that the best villains in psychological thrillers do. 

The Riddler also does well to touch upon modern societal issues pertaining to the incels, fascists, and mentally unstable and their relationship with the internet. It is another testament to Reeve’s ability to mold the myth of Batman into a new, exciting context that is relevant to modern times. It would have been easy to simply look to the past Batman movies and rehash many of the elements in a repetitive way. Instead, Reeves has an exciting script with influences from several of Batman’s comic book history. 

Among the cast, I have to say that the character that I think did the least for me is Batman himself. I was initially excited about Robert Pattison’s announcement as the caped crusader. After watching him in the lead in Good Time, Pattison does well in roles that are unhinged, able to take stressful situations and switch between composed and anxious as the scene requires. 

I felt that his Batman was somewhat subdued. I was hoping for a more untethered version of Batman, especially since this is still early in Bruce Wayne’s career and a major plot point revolves around him trying to discover what kind of hero he wants to be. I wouldn’t call it a bad performance. It is more than passable and Pattison’s inherent charisma and performance range alone allows him to carry the character well. I will say that I am curious to see how he manages to play the character in the sequel after learning and experiencing the role through this first outing. 

I think where Pattison shines most, however, is his chemistry with other cast members on screen. Andy Serkis did a pretty good job as Alfred. By himself, he was serviceable but his chemistry with Pattison’s Wayne elevated both performances. Zoe Kravitz as Catwomen was excellent. Kravitz brings a level of confidence, independence, sensuality, and competence on stage that is needed to make Catwomen come to life. Her chemistry with Batman has all of the sexual tension and costumed rivalry that fans are looking for. 

The last actor worth mentioning is Colin Farrell as the Penguin. The makeup department deserves an award as it truly transforms Farrell’s recognizable face into a completely different person, allowing the actor to truly let the performance shine. He plays a man whose monstrous nature is truly in the performance and I am hoping to see a more Penguin-centric film in the future where Farrell can truly show off what he is capable of as an actor. 

The last thing of note is that this movie has some of the best fight scenes of any Batman movie. The choreography has a noir-esque elegance combined with the most ruthless of modern martial art, brutal yet stylized. Each punch is emphasized by a meaty, crunchy sound effect that is mixed well into the audio. Hearing and seeing each punch on-screen at the movie theatre gave me each hit through the subwoofers and speakers. The roar of the batmobile was also a pleasure to experience. 

I think that despite my overall excitement in this review, it is important to emphasize that I am surprised by the overall reception this movie is getting. Many people are calling this a perfect movie. I don’t know if I agree with that sentiment. Then again, I think I am ok with this overall public excitement for the movie. Despite my criticisms, I definitely want to see more from Reeve’s and Pattison’s Batman universe. I am hoping that whatever gripes I have can iron out by the second movie. After all, it was Nolan’s second Batman outing, the Dark Knight, that truly elevated the trilogy to masterpiece status. I am hoping for the same here.