Coming Soon: Unanswered Questions: A Family Guy Script

I wanted to give you guys a heads up on a series of posts that will be coming March 17- March 24.

This is going to be crazy, funny and offensive. Don't miss it!

Matthew H. Jones: Who I Am

My name is Matthew H. Jones. I've been writing fiction since I could hold a pen and I've been wondering why. It's a major part of who I am and a major part of fiction is telling lies.

I'm not saying that all writers are liars, but I know that I am. I remenber being in Kindergarden and telling my friends that the Black Power Ranger was my older brother. I remember saying in the 4th or 5th grade that I could hold my breath for 5 minutes. I remeber stealing quarters out of my little brothers U.S state coin collection.

There's this egotism about me. I want the world to work a certain way and writing lets me do that. In real life, I'm a little powerless. I have no money. I have to connections. I'm kind and people respond to that kindness, but that hasn't gotten me anywhere. I'm tired, right now, as I write this and I'm trying really hard to end this without leaving my readers thinking I put a gun in my mouth.

I know.

What's the difference between a truck full of dead babies and a truck full of bowling balls?
You can't unload a truck full of bowling balls with a pitch fork.

The Office: Goat-Thieves

 I had been asking myself, 'why do I still watch The Office?'

To answer that, I'm going to hold up 'Parks And Recreation' in contrast. When I sit down to watch 'Parks And Rec.', I'm repeatedly told by the characters, ' We're clever. We're kind. We're loving. We're capable."

When I sit down to watch 'The Office', I'm repeatedly told the opposite. "We're cruel. We're Crass. We're Childish. We're, in short, horrible people."

These characters didn't start out that way and I came to the conclusion that I keep watching because I want to see things go wrong. It comes from an ugly, lizard-brained place and I'm not exactly proud of it, but I watch the show, hoping that bad things will happen to these people because, at some point in the sixth or seventh season, the writers started to tear down all the good will they'd built up. I have to liken it to gathering in a town square and throwing rotten cabbage at a goat-thief.

The character who, so utterly, embodies this is Jim, who was my favorite character for the longest time but he devolved into, kind of, a jerk. He started out as an every-man who occasionally did pranks. The writers decided that the pranks were more important than the character. With each season, he's become meaner and meaner, doing pranks that were increasing less justified. I tune in, hoping to see Jim's story arc end like a Russian novel, with him cursing a cold and uncaring universe.  

This is a strange, new kind of narrative, where the audience tunes in to hate the characters. With The Office, I believe it's accidental, but you can also point to 'It's Always Sunny In Philadelphia.' and I believe, 'Curb Your Enthusism' in the same way.

The Average Dark Abby Reader...

It's 2 am where you are. You've just pulled your sweatpant up from around your ankles. You're feeling vaguely shameful, your eyes are bloodshot and teary. You're about to turn your computer off, but wait...

What was that short story by Stephen King?
All that You What Will Be Carried Away
All That You Have...
No, All That You Love Will Be Carried Away.

Google It!

An Analysis of All That You Love Will Be Carried Away? Sure, Why not.

My statistics show that contistantly, that one post is the number one viewed post. Thouhgt I'd share that with you.

Together, We Shalt Destroy Him!

Friends, Romans, and Internet Pals.

As I've said in the past, and as I will say again in the future, I'm a writer working towards professionalism. I'm not here for that, not exactly. I'm here out of a blind spite. I'm writing and posting a serial on Jukepop Serials, a serial fiction website. I'm currently ranked as 42nd among 200 other writers. I have a competition in me. I don't like to lose. Although I'm better than over 150 other people on this site, I'm not the best. The best on Jukepopserials.com is Steve Ahlquist, Author of 'Wonder Heroes 4.0'. He's perched up at the top of the site and I want to take him out at the knees. I want to rub his face in the dirt, leave him broken and bloody at the bottom of the Juke Pop mountain.

Here's where you come in. Please go to Jukepopserial..com, register (It's quick, free and easy.) and +vote my serial: 'The Last Reich: Bringing Up God First'. You don't have to read it, just vote my serial past Steve.(It'd be great if you read it, but I only need to humiliate Steve.) I want to beat him. I want to break him.

http://www.jukepopserials.com/home/read/59/

Along with voting, please let others know of my quest to destroy Steve Ahlquist.

Thank you. Together we can dash the brain out of that jerk, Steve Ahlquist.

Matthew H. Jones

(I'd like to take this moment to say, Steve Ahlquist is a great writer and I wish nothing but the best for him. Please check out his serial here: http://www.jukepopserials.com/home/read/42)

No Magic For Luke Peters - Book Trailer

It's Their Shit, Not Mine

I’ve been considering my life, wondering what I should be doing and what I shouldn’t be working on. It occurs to me that my problem is my relationship with reality. Back in 2006, I was a college freshman at Middlesex Community College. That’s where I took my first Psychology class. My professor was a short, brunette woman in her early forties. She spoke with a southern accent and always spoke frankly. It was in this frankly vain that she told the entire class about an important philosophy among professionals in the Psychology field.

 

“It’s your shit, not mine.”

 

The takeaway from that philosophy was that one should not let other people’s issues become theirs. For whatever reason, I hadn’t internalized that concept until just recently. I’ve been asking myself if I was the one who was crazy, if the way other people behave was logical and I was  the one running around, being illogical. I’ve decided something when I returned to that philosophy I heard six years ago. I’m going to do what works for me and I’m gong to let others do what works for them, regardless of whether it seems to be working or not. I’m writing this to remind myself to this fact. 

 

I feel like I’m getting old at the age of twenty-four and I look at other people at my age and people older than me. They seem so much younger than I am. They walk through the now chilly streets of Lowell, seemingly obvious of the world around them. Other twenty-four years don’t slip their hands into their pockets and switch off their headphones to covertly listen in on other people’s conversations, making sure that the conversation isn’t ebbing in their direction. I do.

 

There was this argument in my house. Due to the size of the argument, one would think it would be about something big; war, rape, murder, or credit scores. You’d be right in the latter case. The question was posed, How do you find your credit score? I didn’t pose the question and I wasn’t there for most of the argument. I came in when the argument had duplicated. Two separate conversations were going on and the two men arguing were fighting with all the pointless passion that such a conversation demanded.

 

I noticed that if one of them just let it go, said, “This isn’t worth it. I’m going to watch the game.” Then the entire argument would fall on its face. Like seedlings about to break through to the surface, they were both almost there and then there was the accusation of lying. These two people who weren’t scared of being hateful and hostile to one another were suddenly concerned with each other’s opinion.

 

I’m getting caught up in this, mostly because it’s a fresh wound. I have to remind myself of why I’m writing this. “It’s their shit, not mine.” Why should I care if two people have a long-winded argument, loudly in the other room.

 

The reality of the situation is that these people were doing what worked for them, regardless of whether it was actually working or not. I have to do the same thing. I need to live a life without concern for others. “It’s their shit, not mine.” I probably should have learned this a long time ago, longer than six years ago, or even sixteen years ago.