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Hello and welcome to Inkverse Algorithm, The Writer's Pod.
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I'm your host and writer, Moogie Spitz.
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And today I am going to read another one of my short stories.
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I've been interviewing lots of great writers and poets, and I tend to go through oscillating phases where my emails light up, a lot of numbers in my inbox, opportunities to bring people on the podcast.
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Not only this show, but I've got four other shows.
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Bald ambition, focused on the business world, No Hair All Heart, Relationships, Bald and Bloviating, Politics, Rambling, Philosophizing, and the Science Fiction and Fantasy Factory, where I already have talked to at least sixty science fiction writers and illustrators, fans.
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It's been a blast.
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But I like my space too, to be honest.
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I'm one of those extroverted introverts where I could flick the switch and engage with people.
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I lived in New York City, much of it in Manhattan for 13 years, and I loved it until I hated it.
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I've also written and ranted about that experience and will no doubt do more of it.
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But I've moved the last couple years and a half to Orange County, California, and I'm sitting here in an apartment in Lake Forest, suburban city planner's wet dream.
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I revel in opening up the shades every morning and seeing nothing but palm trees and a parking lot.
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I love it.
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So these podcasts have been a great opportunity for me to actually connect with people.
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I do it as well on Zoom calls and Teams calls for my consulting gig, what would be considered the day job.
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So I get that too, but that's virtual also.
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And to be honest with you, my kid even revels at seeing me never leave the apartment all week long.
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And I reiterate, I love it.
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I'm at the phase in life where less is more, especially when it comes to direct human interaction.
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And more is more in terms of concentrated attention, focus, time, energy, resources to creating content.
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And it's almost like I had to go through all those other more extroverted phases to reach the point of zero FOMO that I'm experiencing now.
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Almost this sense of utter exhaustion with society, other people, which gives me not only the space to create a lot of content, but the raw material, the lived experiences.
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I've related on other podcasts and in other stories and essays how my younger years, my younger creative years were plagued by this lack of legitimacy.
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I didn't feel I really had the creds.
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I felt deep down inside I was an obnoxious punk.
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In Hungarian, they say tuk nyosh kyuk.
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I love all the umlots in Hungarian and the weird diphthongs.
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Tok nyosh kyuk.
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Tuknosh I even have trouble saying it, is uh snody.
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Snody and kyuk means punk, like a young kid.
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Tuk nyosh kyuk.
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That's how I felt about myself.
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I was a snot-nosed punk.
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I was entitled and spoiled and at the same time neglected and abused.
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You know, your typical 20-somethings American Gen Xer.
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And I took it to its extreme.
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So I didn't want any part of real relationships or real careers because I was an artist.
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But it all backfired in the sense of me not feeling that I had the creds to do it.
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I would put pen to paper, tap on endless keyboards, fill endless floppy disks of content.
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I wrote millions of words.
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I'm not kidding.
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And I used it largely for therapy at one point because I just felt I couldn't really complete a story that had legitimacy.
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I thought I was full of shit.
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Was that accurate?
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I don't know.
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I see so many writers writing such garbage, frankly, with no hint of self-consciousness, that I don't know.
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Could I have faked it till I made it?
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Of course.
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But it is what it is, and no regrets.
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Amor Fati.
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I lived it, I loved it, now I have a chance to do it.
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And the the best news of all this, frankly, is that now I really like my stuff.
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I feel that I've earned it.
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And I feel that my voice is legit, that I actually have things to say and a manner through which to say them.
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And the technology is caught up, too.
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It's it's so DIY now.
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This mic I'm ranting into is 70 bucks.
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Then I got a subscription to the app, which is maybe 30 bucks a month, and then I've got another subscription to distribute the podcast, and that's it.
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I mean, I taught myself how to do all this stuff, which isn't exactly a marvel in and of itself.
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But again, the technology has caught up to make this almost effortless.
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And my own lived experiences have caught up to give me the dibs to crank this stuff out and to feel great about it.
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I think it's good.
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And I think it's so good, coupled with my naturally extroverted, introverted, very introverted personality, that I don't even really care what you think.
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Listen, enjoy, read it, consume it or not.
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It's not gonna preclude me from doing even more of it.
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And frankly, if I had a fan base, I don't know how much more it would motivate me, if not provide more distractions.
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So I say bring it, either way.
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And that all said, I've been publishing.
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So my dream novel, my science fiction novel came out last year.
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Johnny Fizzuli and the Transfinite Reality Engine, exceeding my own, never quite humble expectations, which is a lot to say after you heard all that.
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I could say, frankly, 30 years in the making, maybe even more.
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And that would be true.
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So there.
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And I've been following up with smaller publications.
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I published a play I had written in between.
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This one goes back to 2007-2008.
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Mr.
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Lawrence, the sky's gone out, a satirical corporate drama.
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Ionesco meets Pinter in an American high-rise.
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You can call it that.
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The sum greater than its parts and its influences, I think it's a great play.
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So I pulled it together, and without too many edits required, I published it.
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And I like that too.
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And another novella that I published, Greg's Gift is based on an extended short story that turned into a novella that I published on Medium just before the pandemic struck.
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And that's when I really got my stride, I think.
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It is a memoir in the style of a romana clay, which is, I believe, literally translated a story with a key from the French.
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And the essential idea is that you write from your own lived experiences, you borrow generously from your own memories, and you're allowed to exaggerate and most significantly compress to make it as interesting as possible.
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What was that comment that I heard recently?
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Uh, I believe it was from the writer Matt Witten, who wrote a delightful novel recently, Dystopian Futuristic, Dashell Hammett meets Philip K.
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Dick style novel, 51%.
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And he quoted, I forgot who, and the quote goes something like great writing is just like life, only you take out the boring parts.
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And I love that.
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And that's what Greg's gift is.
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It takes what would amount to maybe a month or so often distended experiences lived around the mid-90s, and it compresses them into a very manic, very compressed two, three days of time.
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But almost every vignette in Greg's gift is direct from memory.
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And if I took artistic license, it's just stringing these vignettes together in a way that created a continuous and I felt breathtaking narrative.
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And I love Greg's gift.
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I think I really cranked, and that was a milestone moment for me in my writing, and it flipped in a way where I really, really learned the craft.
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And since then, I collaborated on an illustrated monstrous holiday satire called Super Santa and the science fiction book.
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But what I'm getting to here is I published Greg's Gift on Amazon as its own book.
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And I think it stands.
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It's really juicy.
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So if you want to check it out, you can just find me Mookie Spits on Amazon.
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Notice I'm crassly self-promoting here, which frankly I normally don't do at all on these podcasts.
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I hardly do it at all, actually.
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So I'm giving myself promotional license now to do it for my podcasts and my novels.
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But that that all said, Greg's gift rocks.
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And all that is relevant to this short story.
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Greg's gift is those two, three days which happened on a week on weekdays.
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So basically, from you'd say a Tuesday to a Thursday, I think, or a Wednesday to a Friday, actually.
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And the novel ends, spoiler alert, with me about to go into my shift on a Friday night to the local bar disco nightclub where I was the bartender manager.
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And this story that I want to read to you is one of those crazy weekends, one of the many, many vignettes that I think are not only memorable but worth Romana claying.
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And I hope to amalgamate a bunch of these into Greg's Gift Part two, which I am so hungry to write.
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I am thirsty to get all of this down and to publish it, and to and to smoosh it all together.
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Greg's gift and whatever this Greg's gift sequel will be, where Greg's gift was Wednesday, Thursday, Friday.
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This sequel be Friday, Saturday, Sunday into Monday morning, and the inevitable yet still surprising IHOP visit early Monday morning, already beginning the detox procedure from the weekend before.
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So that's the setup.
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The night Bobby OD'd and almost burned down the bar happened.
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I published this in written form on Substack uh not too long ago, a couple months ago, beginning of June, and I sent it to Bobby, with whom I'm Facebook friends with to this day.
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And Bobby chagrined, and he didn't he didn't deny any of it.
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He implicitly felt that this was an accurate portrayal of that fateful night.
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And we joked about it, and it validated so much of my experiences.
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And if nothing else, it also demonstrated that with time, the the cringy failures of our lives, what I call cheapness, in my last podcast episode on bald and bloviating, the cheapness of our lives, the disappointments, ostensibly what would be construed as the as the horrific moments of our lives make for the very, very best storytelling, I think.
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So let me let you decide.
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Here's another true story from the Rip Roaring 90s.
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I'll place the link to the Substack article in the description below.
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And uh I'll also place the link to Greg's gift if you're interested in learning more about where my head was at during this wild time of life.
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And allow me to just revel and celebrate all of the all of the cringe in a way that I think would make Frank Zappa and Nietzsche proud.
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Saturday night teaser Hello?
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Bobby?
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What?
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Front desk calling.
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This is your wake up call.
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That was our running joke.
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Bobby was chronically late for his weekend shifts, and rather than fire him for it, as I did so many others, I accommodated him to the point of calling him at home minutes before he was supposed to be at his station and ready to go.
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A former high school football star and now neighborhood celebrity dance club bartender, Bobby was handsome, built, and a terrific draw.
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Treating him special made me feel special.
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His immaturity and lack of professionalism mirrored my own.
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I wasn't just tolerating his behavior, I was rewarding it.
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That arrangement worked great right up until the night it nearly led to catastrophe.
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His chronic tardiness was actually the least of my worries.
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During several prior shifts, I noticed that he almost passed out at his station.
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The culprit GHB, chemical name Gamma Hydroxybuterate, a central nervous system depressant ingested by bodybuilders and ravers.
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Until combined with alcohol, when the relaxing euphoria could lurch into blackouts, respiratory collapse, and sometimes even death.
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Stop with the G, I'd repeat to Bobby at the start and end of every shift, assuming he, like so many others, dosed water bottles with the poison.
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What are you talking about?
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He'd smile, wink, and play ignorant, knowing that I knew while also knowing that nothing I said was enforceable.
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As an enabler, hypocrite, and passive aggressive mess, I was your typical bar manager.
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Arguably I broke a few of those norms by running the business efficiently and having a gut sense for when my staff was ripping me off.
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The 90s club scene in Chicago was by any stretch over the top.
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Overdoses I'd been handling for months alongside rampant theft, police raids, brutal fights, public sex, broken plumbing, AWOL DJs, and every variety of nightclub disaster.
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I'd even been assaulted more than once, including taking a full pint glass to the side of the head that exploded across my face.
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Really, really, and no doubt another short story.
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Anyway, Crazy had long ago stopped feeling crazy and became just another Saturday night, which is why what happened next truly freaked me out.
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Small business owners and managers develop a spidey sense for trouble.
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With hundreds of intoxicated patrons acting crazy in the club on a Saturday night, I instinctively knew wherever trouble was brewing, often getting there before it even began, or right at the trigger point.
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That's why I saw the whole thing happen as if in slow motion.
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Bobby was dancing between mixing drinks as he usually did, then doing a shot with his right hand, simultaneously hurling an open bottle of water into the air with another.
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The momentum sent its contents cascading in a broad arc across the dance floor.
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The tip of the fountain, of course, splashing right into the big screen projector mounted on the ceiling above the dance floor.
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The resulting electrical fire was immediate as sparks flew, the device caught on fire, flames flickering into the combustible ceiling insulation and spreading fast.
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The dance floor was packed.
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Almost none of the patrons noticed.
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And of those who did, they cheered as the flames took hold.
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Bobby didn't notice either because when I glanced back at his bar seconds later, he had vanished.
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I rushed to his bar, looked behind it, and saw him crashed on the filthy rubber matting.
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The two other bartenders in the stations on either side of him were still flirting with customers and mixing drinks, nodding in my direction and already talking shit as if all this were my fault.
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They were, of course, correct, but that didn't help.
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The projector had short-circuited, the porno playing on the opposite brick wall went dark, and the ceiling fire was spreading.
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Moment of truth.
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Do the professional thing and turn the house lights on and evacuate the bar?
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Or do the far riskier, grievously irresponsible yet most fiscally hopeful thing, and try to put the fire out ourselves, and then act like nothing happened.
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Bobby, regardless of his medical condition, would have to wait.
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I got onto the walkie-talkie and summoned the bar back, Matt, a tall and lanky lad from Kansas or Oklahoma or wherever.
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And who at the time was downstairs in a cooler hauling up another case of beer.
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Matt, do you copy?
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Crackle, crackle.
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Yes.
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Stop what you're doing, grab the stepladder and fire extinguisher from the back closet, plow your way through the dance floor and meet me in front of Bobby's bar ASAP.
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Crackle crackle.
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What?
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Crackle crackle.
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Go Waiting for fireman Matt and his ladder, I had a few seconds to see if Bobby was still alive, and if so, get him into the basement pronto.
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Tony, I called out to the bartender on my right, we need to get Bobby downstairs.
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What about the regulars?
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he asked, his nightly ring, or more accurately, the high percentage of which he stole top of his mind.
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Does Bobby have a pulse?
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I asked, considering this relevant at the time.
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I think he's still breathing, nodded Tony, who on again, off again dated Bobby, so I couldn't tell how he felt about that information.
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Barney, I called out to the bartender on my left, can you cover all three stations?
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By the time Matt showed with the ladder and fire extinguisher, Tony was carrying Bobby on his shoulders across the dance floor toward the basement door, patrons cheering.
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Given their on-again, off-again relationship, this was arguably the most affection Tony had shown him in months.
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It helped that both men were built like refrigerators.
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Bobby taken care of, at least for now, my attention turned back to the major crisis at hand, the bar being on fire.
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Matt, a recent college graduate and arguably the most formally educated of the staff, performed a rapid and accurate situational assessment.
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Let me get this straight, he said, pointing to the burning projector and spreading flames.
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Yes, I interrupted him.
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Prop the ladder beneath the projector and climb up there.
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I'll pass you the fire extinguisher and then you blast away.
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You sure?
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Go.
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By this point the smoke was thick, blending seamlessly with the fog machine output and the blurred vision of our patrons, who continued dancing as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening.
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The next 15 seconds were critical.
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Either Matt would put the fire out or I'd have to pull the ripcord.
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House lights on, DJ off, club evacuated, 911 called.
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The owner would absolutely lose his shit, and I'd have more hell to pay than Bobby, assuming he survived the night.
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Nice work, I shouted as Matt let the flame retardant foam loose, covering the projector and rapidly spritzing the surrounding ceiling.
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A bit more to the right.
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That's it.
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Up a bit.
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Over Shut up shouted Matt, sneering at me.
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I got this.
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Sure enough, he did.
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The dance floor finally took notice and erupted in applause as the last of the flames was squelched, smoke pouring from the gaping wounds in the ceiling, the projector a smoldering husk.
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I high five Matt as he leaped off the last rung of the ladder, folded it back up, and still carrying the now empty fire extinguisher, returned to the back closet to stow them away.
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Mookie shouted a patron, you did it! The show must go on, I bowed, already headed downstairs to deal with existential problem of the night number two.
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Bobby.
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That's my money, honey.
00:27:57.920 --> 00:28:02.240
I found Bobby sprawled on the concrete basement floor.
00:28:02.559 --> 00:28:13.279
Terry, our transgender coat check girl, fanning him with a tattered copy of that week's Gab magazine, The Gay Ghettos Gossip Rag.
00:28:14.400 --> 00:28:19.039
I think he's still alive, she said, shaking her head.
00:28:19.359 --> 00:28:21.920
You boys never know when to stop.
00:28:22.400 --> 00:28:27.279
How many times have I told you that shit's gonna kill ya?
00:28:28.160 --> 00:28:37.920
I checked his pulse to make sure, then licked one of my fingers and put it close to his mouth, feeling then timing his breathing.
00:28:38.559 --> 00:28:42.000
Didn't I just tell you that I think he's still alive?
00:28:42.240 --> 00:28:44.480
snapped Terry, meaning it.
00:28:44.799 --> 00:28:49.839
You did, girl, I nodded, but as the manager I got a double check.
00:28:50.400 --> 00:28:57.200
You go, boy, she said, puckering her lips, filing her nails.
00:28:57.759 --> 00:29:05.519
The bar not burned down, Bobby's still alive, all was not back to being right with the world quite yet.
00:29:06.160 --> 00:29:08.240
Matt, do you copy?
00:29:08.559 --> 00:29:10.160
Crackle crackle.
00:29:10.480 --> 00:29:11.039
What?
00:29:11.680 --> 00:29:15.759
Bring me Bobby's register drawer and tip jar, please.
00:29:16.079 --> 00:29:17.839
Crackle crackle.
00:29:18.240 --> 00:29:35.440
As I unlocked my office door, more like an unfinished storage room with a sheet of particle board padlocked to a frame of two by fours, I glanced over at a printout someone had stuck to an adjacent mirror the day I got promoted to manager.
00:29:36.559 --> 00:29:40.240
Doesn't play well with others.
00:29:41.200 --> 00:29:47.599
Man arrived with the drawer and jar about the same time Bobby stood and shambled toward them.
00:29:47.920 --> 00:29:50.240
Likely not a coincidence.
00:29:50.559 --> 00:29:58.960
The bills in both were soaked through with booze, sweat, water, and who knew what else.
00:29:59.599 --> 00:30:04.319
Chill, Bobby, I said, trying to sit him down in a folding chair.
00:30:04.640 --> 00:30:10.319
Yuck, he replied, looking and sounding like Bill the Cat from Bloom County.
00:30:15.359 --> 00:30:29.839
In retrospect, I became impressed by Bobby's superhuman effort to claw his way out of a GHB overdose for one overriding purpose, making sure nobody touched his money.
00:30:30.079 --> 00:30:38.640
He had been bartending for only about 90 minutes before ODing, giving me a snapshot of that moment in time.
00:30:39.599 --> 00:30:50.880
His register drawer contained$238, and his tip jar contained$745.
00:30:53.519 --> 00:31:00.640
A few days later, just before one of his weekday shifts, Bobby showed up on time.
00:31:01.440 --> 00:31:06.559
I asked him to come down to the office before stocking his bar.
00:31:07.599 --> 00:31:10.960
Have a seat, Bobby, I gestured.
00:31:11.680 --> 00:31:13.200
Want a bump of meth?
00:31:13.359 --> 00:31:17.920
he asked, sensing trouble was brewing and trying to get on my good side.
00:31:18.319 --> 00:31:24.880
Let's spend a few minutes discussing your performance from Saturday night, I began.
00:31:25.440 --> 00:31:31.759
Okay, he said, blushing like a little girl despite his 27-inch biceps.
00:31:32.880 --> 00:31:42.319
You do G during your shift after I told you a million times not to do G during your shift.
00:31:42.720 --> 00:31:52.799
Mookie, I then you toss a bottle of water in the air which sets the big screen projector on fire.
00:31:53.440 --> 00:31:59.359
Mookie, you which sets the ceiling of the bar on fire.
00:32:00.240 --> 00:32:01.200
Silence.
00:32:01.759 --> 00:32:05.359
Which almost burns the whole bar down.
00:32:06.319 --> 00:32:07.279
Silence.
00:32:07.920 --> 00:32:12.160
Then you OD Silence.
00:32:12.799 --> 00:32:20.720
Now if that wouldn't be bad enough, I got to see what was in your drawer and what was in your tip jar.
00:32:21.279 --> 00:32:24.319
And then I ran the register tape.
00:32:25.680 --> 00:32:28.880
Jesus pause.
00:32:30.160 --> 00:32:32.240
I know, I fucked up.
00:32:32.640 --> 00:32:34.720
I promised not to do any more G.
00:32:35.279 --> 00:32:36.240
Alright?
00:32:37.200 --> 00:32:45.359
You rang up fifty bucks worth of drinks, Bobby, I said, still stunned.
00:32:45.920 --> 00:32:54.160
Had five times that in your drawer and fifteen times that in your tip jar.
00:32:55.279 --> 00:32:57.440
I know, I was fucked up.
00:32:57.680 --> 00:33:00.079
I promise I'll be good from now on.
00:33:00.319 --> 00:33:00.880
Cool?
00:33:02.160 --> 00:33:04.400
You're fired, Bobby.
00:33:05.599 --> 00:33:06.240
What?
00:33:07.519 --> 00:33:11.359
How can I do anything else but can your ass?
00:33:11.839 --> 00:33:17.200
You almost burned the joint down, overdosed, and ripped the place off.
00:33:18.079 --> 00:33:20.319
What could have been worse?
00:33:21.599 --> 00:33:27.759
If all that wouldn't have been astonishing enough, the coup de gras shocker came next.
00:33:28.480 --> 00:33:30.720
Bobby started crying.
00:33:32.079 --> 00:33:34.000
I gave him a tissue.
00:33:35.279 --> 00:33:39.200
Managers never know how people are going to react when they're fired.
00:33:39.440 --> 00:33:42.559
A skinny barback once tried to beat me up.
00:33:42.960 --> 00:33:47.759
Another disgruntled employee chased me around the bar with a fire extinguisher.
00:33:48.160 --> 00:33:54.720
But a Schwarzenegger-sized, Dudley D-Wright handsome bartender bursting into tears?
00:33:56.319 --> 00:33:59.519
Now that was a surprise.
00:34:16.960 --> 00:34:23.360
Which, as I'm mentioning, I'm gonna try to compress into part two of Greg's Gift.
00:34:24.719 --> 00:34:28.960
I want to weave it into a story story, I'm thinking.
00:34:29.199 --> 00:34:34.320
Greg's gift in ways meanders through the three days.
00:34:34.559 --> 00:34:49.519
It uses the artifice of, and again, true story, of the local drug dealer dropping off a duffel bag full of his stash, and then just leaving with me, leaving it with me running off.
00:34:50.239 --> 00:34:51.360
And then what?
00:34:51.679 --> 00:34:54.559
That's the setup for Greg's gift.
00:34:56.320 --> 00:35:01.519
And I have various setups for the weekend.
00:35:02.960 --> 00:35:07.679
This, as I'm saying, is one of many, many vignettes that I could capture.
00:35:09.199 --> 00:35:23.760
So I'll probably do the Romana Clay and compress what would be maybe a dozen different crazy weekends into a supermanic super weekend as part of the novella turn novel.
00:35:25.039 --> 00:35:27.039
But I have to figure that out.
00:35:27.920 --> 00:35:33.119
But I have to say the creative process is tough.
00:35:33.599 --> 00:35:36.960
Every writer, every creator will tell you that.
00:35:37.280 --> 00:35:40.000
One writer likened it to laying pipe.
00:35:40.239 --> 00:35:41.599
It's hard work.
00:35:42.719 --> 00:35:45.760
It's physical for your brain.
00:35:46.719 --> 00:35:53.920
But I have to say, taking this multimodal approach is really a blast.
00:35:54.800 --> 00:36:27.599
Writing it down, publishing it on medium and substack, tweeting it, revisiting it, aggregating it, polishing it a little, and publishing it as its own book on Amazon, then expanding it, playing with it, and recording these as podcast mini audiobooks, audio stories, is just terrific.
00:36:27.840 --> 00:36:32.719
I feel that I'm improving as a writer when I read my own writing aloud.
00:36:32.800 --> 00:36:36.719
I've spoken to many writers on my various podcast shows, and some of them do this.
00:36:36.800 --> 00:36:44.400
They don't necessarily record the audiobook or a podcast like I'm doing, but reading it aloud helps.
00:36:44.719 --> 00:36:46.320
And this helps me.
00:36:46.480 --> 00:36:51.039
Even reading this story, I noticed a few spots that I could still polish.
00:36:52.800 --> 00:36:59.760
And it's just great to be able to let it out there in all these different modalities.
00:37:01.039 --> 00:37:06.559
We're creatures that indulge ourselves visually, first and foremost.
00:37:06.880 --> 00:37:10.719
But we love to talk, we love to interact, we love to listen.
00:37:11.039 --> 00:37:14.000
And this is super fun for me.
00:37:14.159 --> 00:37:17.440
So I hope you find it enjoyable too.
00:37:18.239 --> 00:37:20.000
And let me know what you think.
00:37:20.239 --> 00:37:26.480
I've got a link at the bottom of each and every audio podcast for you to contact me.
00:37:27.840 --> 00:37:29.760
You can email me.
00:37:30.239 --> 00:37:37.840
And once again, my final piece of self-promotion here: you can subscribe to me on Substack.
00:37:38.159 --> 00:37:39.679
You don't gotta pay.
00:37:39.840 --> 00:37:44.079
If you want to pay$5.55 a month, I'll take it.
00:37:44.239 --> 00:37:49.119
You can buy me a Triple Iced Espresso at Starbucks.
00:37:50.000 --> 00:37:52.159
Or just sign up for free.
00:37:52.559 --> 00:37:55.119
I hardly paywall anything.
00:37:55.280 --> 00:37:56.960
That's a whole separate conversation.
00:37:57.119 --> 00:38:05.280
Substack sets it up so that you don't really get noticed unless you paywall off some of your content for paid subscribers only.
00:38:05.360 --> 00:38:19.199
So what I've done is every Friday I share a section of my sci-fi novel, Johnny Fizzuli, and I paywall that action off just to keep the algorithm sprightly, tease it a little bit.
00:38:19.360 --> 00:38:23.440
But all my shit on Substack is for free.
00:38:23.679 --> 00:38:25.280
Take it, leave it.
00:38:25.679 --> 00:38:33.760
I guess that disincentivizes you from actually subscribing with a payment, but I don't really care.
00:38:33.920 --> 00:38:35.599
If you want to pay me, pay me.
00:38:35.679 --> 00:38:37.119
I really appreciate it.
00:38:37.280 --> 00:38:45.440
If you don't, I just feel blessed being able to blast all this stuff in all these different ways across all these different channels.
00:38:46.960 --> 00:38:52.639
And I feel particularly blessed that I'm actually enjoying my own content.
00:38:53.519 --> 00:39:02.320
Ask most writers, and I bet you they can't say that most of the time, I'm so spoiled.
00:39:03.280 --> 00:39:04.239
More to come.
00:39:04.480 --> 00:39:07.840
Like, comment, share, subscribe.
00:39:08.000 --> 00:39:10.000
Subscribe to the podcast for sure.
00:39:10.079 --> 00:39:12.159
That doesn't take any cash olas.
00:39:12.480 --> 00:39:13.679
Hit the subscribe button.
00:39:13.840 --> 00:39:14.719
Gimme five stars.
00:39:14.880 --> 00:39:15.920
Gimme, gimme, gimme.
00:39:16.159 --> 00:39:17.360
Thank you, thank you.
00:39:17.679 --> 00:39:18.559
Thank you.
00:00:00.000 --> 00:00:06.000
Hello and welcome to Inkverse Algorithm, The Writer's Pod.
00:00:06.480 --> 00:00:10.880
I'm your host and writer, Moogie Spitz.
00:00:11.759 --> 00:00:19.519
And today I am going to read another one of my short stories.
00:00:20.559 --> 00:00:43.439
I've been interviewing lots of great writers and poets, and I tend to go through oscillating phases where my emails light up, a lot of numbers in my inbox, opportunities to bring people on the podcast.
00:00:43.600 --> 00:00:47.119
Not only this show, but I've got four other shows.
00:00:48.159 --> 00:01:17.599
Bald ambition, focused on the business world, No Hair All Heart, Relationships, Bald and Bloviating, Politics, Rambling, Philosophizing, and the Science Fiction and Fantasy Factory, where I already have talked to at least sixty science fiction writers and illustrators, fans.
00:01:18.640 --> 00:01:20.400
It's been a blast.
00:01:20.879 --> 00:01:24.319
But I like my space too, to be honest.
00:01:24.480 --> 00:01:33.920
I'm one of those extroverted introverts where I could flick the switch and engage with people.
00:01:47.040 --> 00:01:56.239
I lived in New York City, much of it in Manhattan for 13 years, and I loved it until I hated it.
00:01:56.400 --> 00:02:02.319
I've also written and ranted about that experience and will no doubt do more of it.
00:02:03.200 --> 00:02:19.919
But I've moved the last couple years and a half to Orange County, California, and I'm sitting here in an apartment in Lake Forest, suburban city planner's wet dream.
00:02:21.280 --> 00:02:29.759
I revel in opening up the shades every morning and seeing nothing but palm trees and a parking lot.
00:02:30.719 --> 00:02:32.000
I love it.
00:02:32.560 --> 00:02:37.680
So these podcasts have been a great opportunity for me to actually connect with people.
00:02:37.919 --> 00:02:45.759
I do it as well on Zoom calls and Teams calls for my consulting gig, what would be considered the day job.
00:02:46.479 --> 00:02:50.159
So I get that too, but that's virtual also.
00:02:50.560 --> 00:02:59.599
And to be honest with you, my kid even revels at seeing me never leave the apartment all week long.
00:02:59.919 --> 00:03:02.400
And I reiterate, I love it.
00:03:02.560 --> 00:03:09.759
I'm at the phase in life where less is more, especially when it comes to direct human interaction.
00:03:10.319 --> 00:03:22.479
And more is more in terms of concentrated attention, focus, time, energy, resources to creating content.
00:03:29.039 --> 00:03:40.960
And it's almost like I had to go through all those other more extroverted phases to reach the point of zero FOMO that I'm experiencing now.
00:03:41.599 --> 00:03:57.599
Almost this sense of utter exhaustion with society, other people, which gives me not only the space to create a lot of content, but the raw material, the lived experiences.
00:03:57.759 --> 00:04:08.879
I've related on other podcasts and in other stories and essays how my younger years, my younger creative years were plagued by this lack of legitimacy.
00:04:09.120 --> 00:04:11.919
I didn't feel I really had the creds.
00:04:12.400 --> 00:04:16.800
I felt deep down inside I was an obnoxious punk.
00:04:17.199 --> 00:04:20.879
In Hungarian, they say tuk nyosh kyuk.
00:04:21.519 --> 00:04:25.759
I love all the umlots in Hungarian and the weird diphthongs.
00:04:26.079 --> 00:04:28.000
Tok nyosh kyuk.
00:04:28.399 --> 00:04:34.639
Tuknosh I even have trouble saying it, is uh snody.
00:04:36.240 --> 00:04:43.519
Snody and kyuk means punk, like a young kid.
00:04:44.319 --> 00:04:46.000
Tuk nyosh kyuk.
00:04:46.560 --> 00:04:48.160
That's how I felt about myself.
00:04:48.240 --> 00:04:50.319
I was a snot-nosed punk.
00:04:50.560 --> 00:04:55.040
I was entitled and spoiled and at the same time neglected and abused.
00:04:55.199 --> 00:05:01.680
You know, your typical 20-somethings American Gen Xer.
00:05:02.800 --> 00:05:05.040
And I took it to its extreme.
00:05:05.360 --> 00:05:11.839
So I didn't want any part of real relationships or real careers because I was an artist.
00:05:12.399 --> 00:05:18.800
But it all backfired in the sense of me not feeling that I had the creds to do it.
00:05:18.959 --> 00:05:26.480
I would put pen to paper, tap on endless keyboards, fill endless floppy disks of content.
00:05:27.040 --> 00:05:30.639
I wrote millions of words.
00:05:30.800 --> 00:05:32.000
I'm not kidding.
00:05:32.240 --> 00:05:40.079
And I used it largely for therapy at one point because I just felt I couldn't really complete a story that had legitimacy.
00:05:40.319 --> 00:05:42.560
I thought I was full of shit.
00:05:43.680 --> 00:05:45.199
Was that accurate?
00:05:45.439 --> 00:05:46.240
I don't know.
00:05:46.399 --> 00:05:57.120
I see so many writers writing such garbage, frankly, with no hint of self-consciousness, that I don't know.
00:05:57.439 --> 00:06:00.480
Could I have faked it till I made it?
00:06:01.680 --> 00:06:02.959
Of course.
00:06:03.439 --> 00:06:07.439
But it is what it is, and no regrets.
00:06:07.600 --> 00:06:09.040
Amor Fati.
00:06:10.959 --> 00:06:15.519
I lived it, I loved it, now I have a chance to do it.
00:06:16.160 --> 00:06:22.639
And the the best news of all this, frankly, is that now I really like my stuff.
00:06:22.879 --> 00:06:25.040
I feel that I've earned it.
00:06:25.439 --> 00:06:34.160
And I feel that my voice is legit, that I actually have things to say and a manner through which to say them.
00:06:34.480 --> 00:06:37.040
And the technology is caught up, too.
00:06:37.120 --> 00:06:39.519
It's it's so DIY now.
00:06:40.000 --> 00:06:44.560
This mic I'm ranting into is 70 bucks.
00:06:44.959 --> 00:06:57.040
Then I got a subscription to the app, which is maybe 30 bucks a month, and then I've got another subscription to distribute the podcast, and that's it.
00:06:57.120 --> 00:07:03.680
I mean, I taught myself how to do all this stuff, which isn't exactly a marvel in and of itself.
00:07:04.399 --> 00:07:08.800
But again, the technology has caught up to make this almost effortless.
00:07:08.959 --> 00:07:19.439
And my own lived experiences have caught up to give me the dibs to crank this stuff out and to feel great about it.
00:07:19.519 --> 00:07:20.720
I think it's good.
00:07:21.439 --> 00:07:31.680
And I think it's so good, coupled with my naturally extroverted, introverted, very introverted personality, that I don't even really care what you think.
00:07:32.399 --> 00:07:36.560
Listen, enjoy, read it, consume it or not.
00:07:36.720 --> 00:07:40.879
It's not gonna preclude me from doing even more of it.
00:07:41.120 --> 00:07:49.199
And frankly, if I had a fan base, I don't know how much more it would motivate me, if not provide more distractions.
00:07:49.519 --> 00:07:52.160
So I say bring it, either way.
00:07:52.399 --> 00:07:56.000
And that all said, I've been publishing.
00:07:56.240 --> 00:08:00.720
So my dream novel, my science fiction novel came out last year.
00:08:01.040 --> 00:08:13.279
Johnny Fizzuli and the Transfinite Reality Engine, exceeding my own, never quite humble expectations, which is a lot to say after you heard all that.
00:08:14.000 --> 00:08:18.319
I could say, frankly, 30 years in the making, maybe even more.
00:08:19.360 --> 00:08:21.040
And that would be true.
00:08:21.759 --> 00:08:22.639
So there.
00:08:23.439 --> 00:08:27.120
And I've been following up with smaller publications.
00:08:27.439 --> 00:08:32.080
I published a play I had written in between.
00:08:32.320 --> 00:08:36.399
This one goes back to 2007-2008.
00:08:37.120 --> 00:08:37.600
Mr.
00:08:37.759 --> 00:08:42.639
Lawrence, the sky's gone out, a satirical corporate drama.
00:08:43.440 --> 00:08:48.720
Ionesco meets Pinter in an American high-rise.
00:08:48.799 --> 00:08:50.240
You can call it that.
00:08:51.360 --> 00:08:58.159
The sum greater than its parts and its influences, I think it's a great play.
00:08:58.639 --> 00:09:04.799
So I pulled it together, and without too many edits required, I published it.
00:09:05.120 --> 00:09:07.039
And I like that too.
00:09:07.600 --> 00:09:24.879
And another novella that I published, Greg's Gift is based on an extended short story that turned into a novella that I published on Medium just before the pandemic struck.
00:09:26.720 --> 00:09:30.399
And that's when I really got my stride, I think.
00:09:30.639 --> 00:09:43.759
It is a memoir in the style of a romana clay, which is, I believe, literally translated a story with a key from the French.
00:09:44.480 --> 00:10:04.159
And the essential idea is that you write from your own lived experiences, you borrow generously from your own memories, and you're allowed to exaggerate and most significantly compress to make it as interesting as possible.
00:10:05.679 --> 00:10:09.120
What was that comment that I heard recently?
00:10:09.200 --> 00:10:23.679
Uh, I believe it was from the writer Matt Witten, who wrote a delightful novel recently, Dystopian Futuristic, Dashell Hammett meets Philip K.
00:10:23.840 --> 00:10:26.960
Dick style novel, 51%.
00:10:28.240 --> 00:10:40.639
And he quoted, I forgot who, and the quote goes something like great writing is just like life, only you take out the boring parts.
00:10:41.759 --> 00:10:42.720
And I love that.
00:10:42.799 --> 00:10:45.679
And that's what Greg's gift is.
00:10:46.960 --> 00:11:05.600
It takes what would amount to maybe a month or so often distended experiences lived around the mid-90s, and it compresses them into a very manic, very compressed two, three days of time.
00:11:06.639 --> 00:11:13.279
But almost every vignette in Greg's gift is direct from memory.
00:11:14.159 --> 00:11:26.080
And if I took artistic license, it's just stringing these vignettes together in a way that created a continuous and I felt breathtaking narrative.
00:11:26.399 --> 00:11:27.840
And I love Greg's gift.
00:11:28.000 --> 00:11:40.080
I think I really cranked, and that was a milestone moment for me in my writing, and it flipped in a way where I really, really learned the craft.
00:11:40.240 --> 00:11:51.840
And since then, I collaborated on an illustrated monstrous holiday satire called Super Santa and the science fiction book.
00:11:52.159 --> 00:11:59.120
But what I'm getting to here is I published Greg's Gift on Amazon as its own book.
00:12:00.720 --> 00:12:02.639
And I think it stands.
00:12:02.720 --> 00:12:04.000
It's really juicy.
00:12:04.080 --> 00:12:09.440
So if you want to check it out, you can just find me Mookie Spits on Amazon.
00:12:09.600 --> 00:12:15.919
Notice I'm crassly self-promoting here, which frankly I normally don't do at all on these podcasts.
00:12:16.080 --> 00:12:18.320
I hardly do it at all, actually.
00:12:18.559 --> 00:12:25.679
So I'm giving myself promotional license now to do it for my podcasts and my novels.
00:12:26.240 --> 00:12:30.639
But that that all said, Greg's gift rocks.
00:12:31.440 --> 00:12:36.240
And all that is relevant to this short story.
00:12:36.720 --> 00:12:43.519
Greg's gift is those two, three days which happened on a week on weekdays.
00:12:43.679 --> 00:12:52.000
So basically, from you'd say a Tuesday to a Thursday, I think, or a Wednesday to a Friday, actually.
00:12:53.679 --> 00:13:12.080
And the novel ends, spoiler alert, with me about to go into my shift on a Friday night to the local bar disco nightclub where I was the bartender manager.
00:13:15.440 --> 00:13:33.759
And this story that I want to read to you is one of those crazy weekends, one of the many, many vignettes that I think are not only memorable but worth Romana claying.
00:13:35.120 --> 00:13:46.799
And I hope to amalgamate a bunch of these into Greg's Gift Part two, which I am so hungry to write.
00:13:47.120 --> 00:13:55.600
I am thirsty to get all of this down and to publish it, and to and to smoosh it all together.
00:13:55.840 --> 00:14:04.720
Greg's gift and whatever this Greg's gift sequel will be, where Greg's gift was Wednesday, Thursday, Friday.
00:14:04.960 --> 00:14:23.600
This sequel be Friday, Saturday, Sunday into Monday morning, and the inevitable yet still surprising IHOP visit early Monday morning, already beginning the detox procedure from the weekend before.
00:14:24.960 --> 00:14:27.120
So that's the setup.
00:14:28.080 --> 00:14:35.360
The night Bobby OD'd and almost burned down the bar happened.
00:14:36.399 --> 00:14:52.320
I published this in written form on Substack uh not too long ago, a couple months ago, beginning of June, and I sent it to Bobby, with whom I'm Facebook friends with to this day.
00:14:52.960 --> 00:15:00.480
And Bobby chagrined, and he didn't he didn't deny any of it.
00:15:01.279 --> 00:15:06.879
He implicitly felt that this was an accurate portrayal of that fateful night.
00:15:07.440 --> 00:15:14.080
And we joked about it, and it validated so much of my experiences.
00:15:14.480 --> 00:15:54.879
And if nothing else, it also demonstrated that with time, the the cringy failures of our lives, what I call cheapness, in my last podcast episode on bald and bloviating, the cheapness of our lives, the disappointments, ostensibly what would be construed as the as the horrific moments of our lives make for the very, very best storytelling, I think.
00:15:56.080 --> 00:15:59.200
So let me let you decide.
00:16:00.559 --> 00:16:06.080
Here's another true story from the Rip Roaring 90s.
00:16:06.240 --> 00:16:12.720
I'll place the link to the Substack article in the description below.
00:16:13.679 --> 00:16:26.159
And uh I'll also place the link to Greg's gift if you're interested in learning more about where my head was at during this wild time of life.
00:16:27.519 --> 00:16:45.279
And allow me to just revel and celebrate all of the all of the cringe in a way that I think would make Frank Zappa and Nietzsche proud.
00:16:48.639 --> 00:16:53.200
Saturday night teaser Hello?
00:16:53.759 --> 00:16:54.559
Bobby?
00:16:55.519 --> 00:16:56.159
What?
00:16:57.120 --> 00:16:59.279
Front desk calling.
00:17:01.679 --> 00:17:04.079
This is your wake up call.
00:17:04.880 --> 00:17:06.960
That was our running joke.
00:17:07.200 --> 00:17:25.680
Bobby was chronically late for his weekend shifts, and rather than fire him for it, as I did so many others, I accommodated him to the point of calling him at home minutes before he was supposed to be at his station and ready to go.
00:17:26.640 --> 00:17:39.039
A former high school football star and now neighborhood celebrity dance club bartender, Bobby was handsome, built, and a terrific draw.
00:17:40.240 --> 00:17:44.400
Treating him special made me feel special.
00:17:44.880 --> 00:17:49.359
His immaturity and lack of professionalism mirrored my own.
00:17:49.680 --> 00:17:54.799
I wasn't just tolerating his behavior, I was rewarding it.
00:17:55.359 --> 00:18:01.920
That arrangement worked great right up until the night it nearly led to catastrophe.
00:18:03.519 --> 00:18:08.319
His chronic tardiness was actually the least of my worries.
00:18:08.559 --> 00:18:14.480
During several prior shifts, I noticed that he almost passed out at his station.
00:18:14.960 --> 00:18:28.000
The culprit GHB, chemical name Gamma Hydroxybuterate, a central nervous system depressant ingested by bodybuilders and ravers.
00:18:29.039 --> 00:18:41.440
Until combined with alcohol, when the relaxing euphoria could lurch into blackouts, respiratory collapse, and sometimes even death.
00:18:42.480 --> 00:18:57.839
Stop with the G, I'd repeat to Bobby at the start and end of every shift, assuming he, like so many others, dosed water bottles with the poison.
00:18:58.880 --> 00:19:00.480
What are you talking about?
00:19:00.720 --> 00:19:10.240
He'd smile, wink, and play ignorant, knowing that I knew while also knowing that nothing I said was enforceable.
00:19:11.519 --> 00:19:19.039
As an enabler, hypocrite, and passive aggressive mess, I was your typical bar manager.
00:19:19.599 --> 00:19:29.759
Arguably I broke a few of those norms by running the business efficiently and having a gut sense for when my staff was ripping me off.
00:19:30.160 --> 00:19:35.920
The 90s club scene in Chicago was by any stretch over the top.
00:19:36.240 --> 00:19:54.000
Overdoses I'd been handling for months alongside rampant theft, police raids, brutal fights, public sex, broken plumbing, AWOL DJs, and every variety of nightclub disaster.
00:19:54.559 --> 00:20:04.559
I'd even been assaulted more than once, including taking a full pint glass to the side of the head that exploded across my face.
00:20:05.759 --> 00:20:12.000
Really, really, and no doubt another short story.
00:20:12.960 --> 00:20:27.279
Anyway, Crazy had long ago stopped feeling crazy and became just another Saturday night, which is why what happened next truly freaked me out.
00:20:27.759 --> 00:20:34.160
Small business owners and managers develop a spidey sense for trouble.
00:20:34.640 --> 00:20:51.200
With hundreds of intoxicated patrons acting crazy in the club on a Saturday night, I instinctively knew wherever trouble was brewing, often getting there before it even began, or right at the trigger point.
00:20:51.680 --> 00:20:56.880
That's why I saw the whole thing happen as if in slow motion.
00:20:57.200 --> 00:21:10.799
Bobby was dancing between mixing drinks as he usually did, then doing a shot with his right hand, simultaneously hurling an open bottle of water into the air with another.
00:21:11.279 --> 00:21:18.480
The momentum sent its contents cascading in a broad arc across the dance floor.
00:21:18.720 --> 00:21:28.960
The tip of the fountain, of course, splashing right into the big screen projector mounted on the ceiling above the dance floor.
00:21:29.519 --> 00:21:41.759
The resulting electrical fire was immediate as sparks flew, the device caught on fire, flames flickering into the combustible ceiling insulation and spreading fast.
00:21:42.400 --> 00:21:44.559
The dance floor was packed.
00:21:44.880 --> 00:21:47.759
Almost none of the patrons noticed.
00:21:48.000 --> 00:21:52.240
And of those who did, they cheered as the flames took hold.
00:21:52.559 --> 00:21:59.759
Bobby didn't notice either because when I glanced back at his bar seconds later, he had vanished.
00:22:00.640 --> 00:22:07.119
I rushed to his bar, looked behind it, and saw him crashed on the filthy rubber matting.
00:22:07.440 --> 00:22:23.359
The two other bartenders in the stations on either side of him were still flirting with customers and mixing drinks, nodding in my direction and already talking shit as if all this were my fault.
00:22:24.000 --> 00:22:29.119
They were, of course, correct, but that didn't help.
00:22:29.440 --> 00:22:39.039
The projector had short-circuited, the porno playing on the opposite brick wall went dark, and the ceiling fire was spreading.
00:22:39.599 --> 00:22:41.359
Moment of truth.
00:22:41.839 --> 00:22:46.559
Do the professional thing and turn the house lights on and evacuate the bar?
00:22:47.359 --> 00:23:02.880
Or do the far riskier, grievously irresponsible yet most fiscally hopeful thing, and try to put the fire out ourselves, and then act like nothing happened.
00:23:03.839 --> 00:23:09.200
Bobby, regardless of his medical condition, would have to wait.
00:23:09.440 --> 00:23:18.480
I got onto the walkie-talkie and summoned the bar back, Matt, a tall and lanky lad from Kansas or Oklahoma or wherever.
00:23:18.799 --> 00:23:25.279
And who at the time was downstairs in a cooler hauling up another case of beer.
00:23:25.680 --> 00:23:27.599
Matt, do you copy?
00:23:27.920 --> 00:23:29.680
Crackle, crackle.
00:23:30.000 --> 00:23:30.640
Yes.
00:23:31.440 --> 00:23:41.680
Stop what you're doing, grab the stepladder and fire extinguisher from the back closet, plow your way through the dance floor and meet me in front of Bobby's bar ASAP.
00:23:42.480 --> 00:23:44.240
Crackle crackle.
00:23:44.559 --> 00:23:45.200
What?
00:23:45.759 --> 00:23:47.279
Crackle crackle.
00:23:47.599 --> 00:24:00.000
Go Waiting for fireman Matt and his ladder, I had a few seconds to see if Bobby was still alive, and if so, get him into the basement pronto.
00:24:00.480 --> 00:24:07.440
Tony, I called out to the bartender on my right, we need to get Bobby downstairs.
00:24:08.240 --> 00:24:10.000
What about the regulars?
00:24:10.240 --> 00:24:19.440
he asked, his nightly ring, or more accurately, the high percentage of which he stole top of his mind.
00:24:20.559 --> 00:24:22.559
Does Bobby have a pulse?
00:24:22.799 --> 00:24:26.480
I asked, considering this relevant at the time.
00:24:26.960 --> 00:24:37.920
I think he's still breathing, nodded Tony, who on again, off again dated Bobby, so I couldn't tell how he felt about that information.
00:24:38.960 --> 00:24:45.680
Barney, I called out to the bartender on my left, can you cover all three stations?
00:24:47.119 --> 00:24:59.039
By the time Matt showed with the ladder and fire extinguisher, Tony was carrying Bobby on his shoulders across the dance floor toward the basement door, patrons cheering.
00:24:59.599 --> 00:25:07.599
Given their on-again, off-again relationship, this was arguably the most affection Tony had shown him in months.
00:25:07.920 --> 00:25:12.240
It helped that both men were built like refrigerators.
00:25:13.119 --> 00:25:22.559
Bobby taken care of, at least for now, my attention turned back to the major crisis at hand, the bar being on fire.
00:25:23.039 --> 00:25:34.880
Matt, a recent college graduate and arguably the most formally educated of the staff, performed a rapid and accurate situational assessment.
00:25:35.839 --> 00:25:41.759
Let me get this straight, he said, pointing to the burning projector and spreading flames.
00:25:42.160 --> 00:25:44.240
Yes, I interrupted him.
00:25:44.559 --> 00:25:48.079
Prop the ladder beneath the projector and climb up there.
00:25:48.319 --> 00:25:52.559
I'll pass you the fire extinguisher and then you blast away.
00:25:53.599 --> 00:25:54.880
You sure?
00:25:55.279 --> 00:25:55.599
Go.
00:25:57.519 --> 00:26:10.799
By this point the smoke was thick, blending seamlessly with the fog machine output and the blurred vision of our patrons, who continued dancing as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening.
00:26:11.839 --> 00:26:15.039
The next 15 seconds were critical.
00:26:15.279 --> 00:26:20.000
Either Matt would put the fire out or I'd have to pull the ripcord.
00:26:20.640 --> 00:26:27.440
House lights on, DJ off, club evacuated, 911 called.
00:26:27.759 --> 00:26:38.000
The owner would absolutely lose his shit, and I'd have more hell to pay than Bobby, assuming he survived the night.
00:26:39.200 --> 00:26:49.279
Nice work, I shouted as Matt let the flame retardant foam loose, covering the projector and rapidly spritzing the surrounding ceiling.
00:26:49.599 --> 00:26:51.519
A bit more to the right.
00:26:51.920 --> 00:26:52.960
That's it.
00:26:53.279 --> 00:26:54.319
Up a bit.
00:26:54.799 --> 00:27:00.640
Over Shut up shouted Matt, sneering at me.
00:27:00.960 --> 00:27:02.559
I got this.
00:27:05.039 --> 00:27:07.119
Sure enough, he did.
00:27:07.920 --> 00:27:22.640
The dance floor finally took notice and erupted in applause as the last of the flames was squelched, smoke pouring from the gaping wounds in the ceiling, the projector a smoldering husk.
00:27:23.200 --> 00:27:36.640
I high five Matt as he leaped off the last rung of the ladder, folded it back up, and still carrying the now empty fire extinguisher, returned to the back closet to stow them away.
00:27:37.039 --> 00:27:49.680
Mookie shouted a patron, you did it! The show must go on, I bowed, already headed downstairs to deal with existential problem of the night number two.
00:27:50.480 --> 00:27:51.359
Bobby.
00:27:54.000 --> 00:27:56.799
That's my money, honey.
00:27:57.920 --> 00:28:02.240
I found Bobby sprawled on the concrete basement floor.
00:28:02.559 --> 00:28:13.279
Terry, our transgender coat check girl, fanning him with a tattered copy of that week's Gab magazine, The Gay Ghettos Gossip Rag.
00:28:14.400 --> 00:28:19.039
I think he's still alive, she said, shaking her head.
00:28:19.359 --> 00:28:21.920
You boys never know when to stop.
00:28:22.400 --> 00:28:27.279
How many times have I told you that shit's gonna kill ya?
00:28:28.160 --> 00:28:37.920
I checked his pulse to make sure, then licked one of my fingers and put it close to his mouth, feeling then timing his breathing.
00:28:38.559 --> 00:28:42.000
Didn't I just tell you that I think he's still alive?
00:28:42.240 --> 00:28:44.480
snapped Terry, meaning it.
00:28:44.799 --> 00:28:49.839
You did, girl, I nodded, but as the manager I got a double check.
00:28:50.400 --> 00:28:57.200
You go, boy, she said, puckering her lips, filing her nails.
00:28:57.759 --> 00:29:05.519
The bar not burned down, Bobby's still alive, all was not back to being right with the world quite yet.
00:29:06.160 --> 00:29:08.240
Matt, do you copy?
00:29:08.559 --> 00:29:10.160
Crackle crackle.
00:29:10.480 --> 00:29:11.039
What?
00:29:11.680 --> 00:29:15.759
Bring me Bobby's register drawer and tip jar, please.
00:29:16.079 --> 00:29:17.839
Crackle crackle.
00:29:18.240 --> 00:29:35.440
As I unlocked my office door, more like an unfinished storage room with a sheet of particle board padlocked to a frame of two by fours, I glanced over at a printout someone had stuck to an adjacent mirror the day I got promoted to manager.
00:29:36.559 --> 00:29:40.240
Doesn't play well with others.
00:29:41.200 --> 00:29:47.599
Man arrived with the drawer and jar about the same time Bobby stood and shambled toward them.
00:29:47.920 --> 00:29:50.240
Likely not a coincidence.
00:29:50.559 --> 00:29:58.960
The bills in both were soaked through with booze, sweat, water, and who knew what else.
00:29:59.599 --> 00:30:04.319
Chill, Bobby, I said, trying to sit him down in a folding chair.
00:30:04.640 --> 00:30:10.319
Yuck, he replied, looking and sounding like Bill the Cat from Bloom County.
00:30:15.359 --> 00:30:29.839
In retrospect, I became impressed by Bobby's superhuman effort to claw his way out of a GHB overdose for one overriding purpose, making sure nobody touched his money.
00:30:30.079 --> 00:30:38.640
He had been bartending for only about 90 minutes before ODing, giving me a snapshot of that moment in time.
00:30:39.599 --> 00:30:50.880
His register drawer contained$238, and his tip jar contained$745.
00:30:53.519 --> 00:31:00.640
A few days later, just before one of his weekday shifts, Bobby showed up on time.
00:31:01.440 --> 00:31:06.559
I asked him to come down to the office before stocking his bar.
00:31:07.599 --> 00:31:10.960
Have a seat, Bobby, I gestured.
00:31:11.680 --> 00:31:13.200
Want a bump of meth?
00:31:13.359 --> 00:31:17.920
he asked, sensing trouble was brewing and trying to get on my good side.
00:31:18.319 --> 00:31:24.880
Let's spend a few minutes discussing your performance from Saturday night, I began.
00:31:25.440 --> 00:31:31.759
Okay, he said, blushing like a little girl despite his 27-inch biceps.
00:31:32.880 --> 00:31:42.319
You do G during your shift after I told you a million times not to do G during your shift.
00:31:42.720 --> 00:31:52.799
Mookie, I then you toss a bottle of water in the air which sets the big screen projector on fire.
00:31:53.440 --> 00:31:59.359
Mookie, you which sets the ceiling of the bar on fire.
00:32:00.240 --> 00:32:01.200
Silence.
00:32:01.759 --> 00:32:05.359
Which almost burns the whole bar down.
00:32:06.319 --> 00:32:07.279
Silence.
00:32:07.920 --> 00:32:12.160
Then you OD Silence.
00:32:12.799 --> 00:32:20.720
Now if that wouldn't be bad enough, I got to see what was in your drawer and what was in your tip jar.
00:32:21.279 --> 00:32:24.319
And then I ran the register tape.
00:32:25.680 --> 00:32:28.880
Jesus pause.
00:32:30.160 --> 00:32:32.240
I know, I fucked up.
00:32:32.640 --> 00:32:34.720
I promised not to do any more G.
00:32:35.279 --> 00:32:36.240
Alright?
00:32:37.200 --> 00:32:45.359
You rang up fifty bucks worth of drinks, Bobby, I said, still stunned.
00:32:45.920 --> 00:32:54.160
Had five times that in your drawer and fifteen times that in your tip jar.
00:32:55.279 --> 00:32:57.440
I know, I was fucked up.
00:32:57.680 --> 00:33:00.079
I promise I'll be good from now on.
00:33:00.319 --> 00:33:00.880
Cool?
00:33:02.160 --> 00:33:04.400
You're fired, Bobby.
00:33:05.599 --> 00:33:06.240
What?
00:33:07.519 --> 00:33:11.359
How can I do anything else but can your ass?
00:33:11.839 --> 00:33:17.200
You almost burned the joint down, overdosed, and ripped the place off.
00:33:18.079 --> 00:33:20.319
What could have been worse?
00:33:21.599 --> 00:33:27.759
If all that wouldn't have been astonishing enough, the coup de gras shocker came next.
00:33:28.480 --> 00:33:30.720
Bobby started crying.
00:33:32.079 --> 00:33:34.000
I gave him a tissue.
00:33:35.279 --> 00:33:39.200
Managers never know how people are going to react when they're fired.
00:33:39.440 --> 00:33:42.559
A skinny barback once tried to beat me up.
00:33:42.960 --> 00:33:47.759
Another disgruntled employee chased me around the bar with a fire extinguisher.
00:33:48.160 --> 00:33:54.720
But a Schwarzenegger-sized, Dudley D-Wright handsome bartender bursting into tears?
00:33:56.319 --> 00:33:59.519
Now that was a surprise.
00:34:16.960 --> 00:34:23.360
Which, as I'm mentioning, I'm gonna try to compress into part two of Greg's Gift.
00:34:24.719 --> 00:34:28.960
I want to weave it into a story story, I'm thinking.
00:34:29.199 --> 00:34:34.320
Greg's gift in ways meanders through the three days.
00:34:34.559 --> 00:34:49.519
It uses the artifice of, and again, true story, of the local drug dealer dropping off a duffel bag full of his stash, and then just leaving with me, leaving it with me running off.
00:34:50.239 --> 00:34:51.360
And then what?
00:34:51.679 --> 00:34:54.559
That's the setup for Greg's gift.
00:34:56.320 --> 00:35:01.519
And I have various setups for the weekend.
00:35:02.960 --> 00:35:07.679
This, as I'm saying, is one of many, many vignettes that I could capture.
00:35:09.199 --> 00:35:23.760
So I'll probably do the Romana Clay and compress what would be maybe a dozen different crazy weekends into a supermanic super weekend as part of the novella turn novel.
00:35:25.039 --> 00:35:27.039
But I have to figure that out.
00:35:27.920 --> 00:35:33.119
But I have to say the creative process is tough.
00:35:33.599 --> 00:35:36.960
Every writer, every creator will tell you that.
00:35:37.280 --> 00:35:40.000
One writer likened it to laying pipe.
00:35:40.239 --> 00:35:41.599
It's hard work.
00:35:42.719 --> 00:35:45.760
It's physical for your brain.
00:35:46.719 --> 00:35:53.920
But I have to say, taking this multimodal approach is really a blast.
00:35:54.800 --> 00:36:27.599
Writing it down, publishing it on medium and substack, tweeting it, revisiting it, aggregating it, polishing it a little, and publishing it as its own book on Amazon, then expanding it, playing with it, and recording these as podcast mini audiobooks, audio stories, is just terrific.
00:36:27.840 --> 00:36:32.719
I feel that I'm improving as a writer when I read my own writing aloud.
00:36:32.800 --> 00:36:36.719
I've spoken to many writers on my various podcast shows, and some of them do this.
00:36:36.800 --> 00:36:44.400
They don't necessarily record the audiobook or a podcast like I'm doing, but reading it aloud helps.
00:36:44.719 --> 00:36:46.320
And this helps me.
00:36:46.480 --> 00:36:51.039
Even reading this story, I noticed a few spots that I could still polish.
00:36:52.800 --> 00:36:59.760
And it's just great to be able to let it out there in all these different modalities.
00:37:01.039 --> 00:37:06.559
We're creatures that indulge ourselves visually, first and foremost.
00:37:06.880 --> 00:37:10.719
But we love to talk, we love to interact, we love to listen.
00:37:11.039 --> 00:37:14.000
And this is super fun for me.
00:37:14.159 --> 00:37:17.440
So I hope you find it enjoyable too.
00:37:18.239 --> 00:37:20.000
And let me know what you think.
00:37:20.239 --> 00:37:26.480
I've got a link at the bottom of each and every audio podcast for you to contact me.
00:37:27.840 --> 00:37:29.760
You can email me.
00:37:30.239 --> 00:37:37.840
And once again, my final piece of self-promotion here: you can subscribe to me on Substack.
00:37:38.159 --> 00:37:39.679
You don't gotta pay.
00:37:39.840 --> 00:37:44.079
If you want to pay$5.55 a month, I'll take it.
00:37:44.239 --> 00:37:49.119
You can buy me a Triple Iced Espresso at Starbucks.
00:37:50.000 --> 00:37:52.159
Or just sign up for free.
00:37:52.559 --> 00:37:55.119
I hardly paywall anything.
00:37:55.280 --> 00:37:56.960
That's a whole separate conversation.
00:37:57.119 --> 00:38:05.280
Substack sets it up so that you don't really get noticed unless you paywall off some of your content for paid subscribers only.
00:38:05.360 --> 00:38:19.199
So what I've done is every Friday I share a section of my sci-fi novel, Johnny Fizzuli, and I paywall that action off just to keep the algorithm sprightly, tease it a little bit.
00:38:19.360 --> 00:38:23.440
But all my shit on Substack is for free.
00:38:23.679 --> 00:38:25.280
Take it, leave it.
00:38:25.679 --> 00:38:33.760
I guess that disincentivizes you from actually subscribing with a payment, but I don't really care.
00:38:33.920 --> 00:38:35.599
If you want to pay me, pay me.
00:38:35.679 --> 00:38:37.119
I really appreciate it.
00:38:37.280 --> 00:38:45.440
If you don't, I just feel blessed being able to blast all this stuff in all these different ways across all these different channels.
00:38:46.960 --> 00:38:52.639
And I feel particularly blessed that I'm actually enjoying my own content.
00:38:53.519 --> 00:39:02.320
Ask most writers, and I bet you they can't say that most of the time, I'm so spoiled.
00:39:03.280 --> 00:39:04.239
More to come.
00:39:04.480 --> 00:39:07.840
Like, comment, share, subscribe.
00:39:08.000 --> 00:39:10.000
Subscribe to the podcast for sure.
00:39:10.079 --> 00:39:12.159
That doesn't take any cash olas.
00:39:12.480 --> 00:39:13.679
Hit the subscribe button.
00:39:13.840 --> 00:39:14.719
Gimme five stars.
00:39:14.880 --> 00:39:15.920
Gimme, gimme, gimme.
00:39:16.159 --> 00:39:17.360
Thank you, thank you.
00:39:17.679 --> 00:39:18.559
Thank you.
