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Weekly Wacko (51)

I’m A Jerk

Yes. It’s true. I’m a jerk. Sometimes deliberately, more often without knowing it (I am a very stereotypical boy/engineer/moron).

There was one time I was a jerk with a publishing effort though. It’s pretty bad.

When I was living in California I saw a book called In Me Own Words: The Autobiography of Bigfoot. I picked it up and glanced at it and it struck me as very quirky humor that I loved. Fantastic.

A book I read about trying to get published recommended that, when I see a book I like or that I find similar to my style (whatever that is), I should look at the publisher and try to find the author’s agent in the acknowledgements section.

I looked and this book was published by Manic D Press, which was, gasp!, in San Francisco! This, I thought, is a sign. Seriously, I really thought this was a good omen. It’s a good thing I don’t live outside New York City (where there are about 5 billion publishers and literary agents) because I’d constantly be getting my hopes dashed.

Anyhow. I looked up Manic D Press’s site and I noticed that the quirky/fun/humor books were in the minority of their publications. Nevertheless, I thought I had a good chance with a small publishing house. I could write a sincere query letter that would get me noticed and they’d invite me up for an interview and find my awkward, nervous, rambling self charming for God knows what reason and … wha-la. Dream accomplished.

Manic D recommended people to read some of their published works, and talk about them in their query letter. They wanted to make sure your work jives with their overall style. Can do, I thought. I was in downtown Mountain View and I noticed Fears of Your Life by Michael Bernard Loggins.

If you know about this book you can go ahead and cringe.

I picked up the book, glanced through it, and loved it. It was yet another quirky, charming, oddball bit of humor. The author had, in his own handwriting, written fears he had for just about everything. I identified with a few of them, and it cracked me up. I bought the book and was crafting the query letter to Manic D in my head.

A few weeks later I finally got around to writing and sending the query letter. I wrote to Manic D about my haiku collection. I am proud of the haiku set, and I have a few that are San Francisco-specific, which I thought would be neat. Again, daydreams flowed about readings in weird little book stores in San Francisco.

Months after that I was at some sort of outdoor art and book festival in San Francisco near the De Young Museum. One of the tables was for Manic D, and my friend urged me to go talk with them. I declined and pulled her aside, telling her about my query letter and my big gaffe.

A month or so after I sent the query letter I was still waiting for a response. I was wondering if I’d made some obvious mistake on my query letter, so I re-read it. It seemed ok to me. I pulled out the books to make sure they were both from Manic D Press. For the first time I looked at the back of Fears of Your Life.

On the back of the book, in plain sight (whoops), is this: “Michael Bernard Loggins, an adult with developmental disabilities, battles his fears by listing more than one hundred of them.”

I change my mind, I’m promoting myself to an ass-hole.

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Weekly Wacko (50)

Scatter-Shot

A few things from this weekend.

1) Yesterday a work buddy and I went to the SMU v Rice game at Rice. Rice is like the Houston version of SMU, but Rice didn’t strike me as being as snobby as SMU (though I am admittedly biased against SMU in this case).

SMU won, which was the best part of the game.

BUT. A close second was Rice’s band.

During halftime the Rice band took the field. They had a group of maybe 8 guys in shorts and shirts off to one side. Then I noticed they were tossing a Frisbee. Oh and apparently a fake/prop/empty keg was being dragged around by one guy … Hey, those shirts are all polo and the collars are popped …

That’s when I realized that those Rice students were doing their best impression of SMU students. This cracked me up pretty good. One of the Rice students also had a fake muscle-man outfit on with no shirt on over it.

The band played some songs then stripped off their band uniforms to reveal that underneath all of them were wearing ‘SMU outfits.’

Awesome show.

2) This book I’m reading for class keeps referencing Dilbert. I started to think I should go buy one of those Dilbert books because I’d probably enjoy it more now …

That’s when my brain stopped and I was sad for myself.

Corporate Brad indeed.

3) I’m wearing an Arizona Diamondbacks t-shirt today. I like this shirt. For a while – during the most heated of the news stories on Arizona and immigration laws – I didn’t wear the t-shirt. This is because Arizona became associated with some bad things. Protesters would even show up to Diamondbacks games when they traveled out of state to play.

I want to make it clear that I am pro Arizona Diamondbacks. Anti racism. When I want to support racism I’ll get a t-shirt that says, “let’s go racists – race it up!” Or whatever it is the KKK wears underneath their white robes.

*

Well, that’s enough crazy for today. Time to make some pancakes for myself.

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Weekly Wacko (49)

Don’t Be THAT Guy

I’m going to depart from my usual trend – I’m going to make fun of someone besides myself.

I will still make fun of myself, but this time the focus on this is to poke fun at someone ELSE. Usually I try to keep these to just making fun of myself – but in my defense, I think this story is pretty funny.

When I was in the 7th grade I lived in West Point, New York. The home of the United States Military Academy. My family lived on post because my dad was in the Army.

I signed up, through the Youth Center, for soccer in the fall and spring seasons. I can’t remember if this was the fall or spring season – but I’m tempted to say fall.

The coach of our team was a cadet – those guys were everywhere (God’s Gang, a youth group through the church I went to, also had cadets helping out). Our coach seemed like a pretty committed guy, considering it was a soccer team comprised of 7th and 8th graders (let the ribbing begin…).

I told some friends of the family, who were also cadets, that so-and-so was my coach. They informed me that they did not like him, he was a tool, and he … get this … cut the sleeves on his PT (physical training) shirts, and then sew them back so they were tighter. This way his shirts would hug his arms.

NOW, I’ll be honest and tell you that I doubt this was true. But it was still an odd thing to hear about someone. And an awesomely odd rumor to have about someone.

Our soccer team that year was amazing. Seriously.

Kids on our team also ran cross country or did track, or hockey, or basketball – we were machines. Two guys on our team dominated cross country all that season. One guy was in 8th grade and about 6 feet tall. He scored a goal from midfield one game.

But, as good as we were … we almost lost a game. It was the same game as the midfield goal.

After the game we noticed that our coach was still sitting over on the sideline where he’d been during the game. What’s that all about?

He called us over for a talk. And what a talk.

“Guys …,” I’m not sure how exactly the talk went, only four points stick out in my mind.

1) He was disappointed in us because we didn’t perform like we should’ve.

2) He sounded disappointed. You could tell by the tone.

3) He said (4) sincerely, sadly, and with regret (because he’d spoken too soon). More impressively I somehow managed not to laugh in his face.

4) “I even told my girlfriend I was proud of you guys.”

There you have it. One of the great motivational speeches of all time.

Pride: REVOKED!

(On a plus note one of my other coach’s was named Sven. How cool is that? Coach Sven is very fun to say.)

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