It occurred to me this week that I stopped self-publishing my poetry even though I had a ton of material, so I'm going to be getting back on that. I sort of made a vow to stop self-publishing, but mostly in terms of my fiction. I may make an effort to be published more traditionally with poems, too, but the crazy amount of material, I seriously doubt any publisher would be like, "Sign me up for that."
So I'll keep you posted about that, for all those just dying to see it happen...
Saturday, September 21, 2019
Sunday, September 8, 2019
Older Than Eddie...
Holy crap. I'm now older than Eddie Guerrero.
This will take some explaining. Eddie Guerrero was a professional wrestler. He died in 2005, and I still remember him as my all-time favorite in the ring. He had personality to spare, and was one of the most gifted athletes the business had ever seen, a pioneer of a more dynamic style that has come to dominate wrestling today. He first stood out for me at Starrcade 1997. Goldberg was on that card, by the way, a little before he truly broke out (stuck in a meaningless feud with another former football player, Steve "Mongo" McMichael, whose career never reached anywhere near Goldberg's heights, even at that point). The main event was "the match of the century," between "Hollywood" Hulk Hogan and Sting, who was wrestling his first match since adopting his Crow persona and becoming WCW's champion against the nefarious New World Order. But it was Eddie, in his match with Dean Malenko, who really stood out that night for me.
In his WCW years, Eddie was a heel, which is wrestling for bad guy. He especially loved giving a hard time to his nephew (who, thanks to how things worked out in the family, was more or less the same age), Chavo, who looks a lot like a cousin of mine who had been killed in a bar in 1994. When Eddie made the leap to WWE in 2000, he took a massive leap in charisma by adopting the "Latino Heat" gimmick, which was in theory another of those horrible stereotype roles wrestling frequently uses, but Eddie made it his own (didn't hurt that Jerry Lawler on commentary so excitedly repeated the nickname all the time). Later, in 2003, Eddie was beginning to be recognized as an elder statesman, and his career reached its pinnacle in 2004 when he beat Brock Lesnar (yeah!) for the heavyweight championship. In his final year, Eddie spent most of it in an extended showcase feud with Rey Mysterio, but his last program was with Batista, something that sort of instantly solidified the future Drax as another favorite.
Eddie died at 38. It seems impossible, now, to think of everything he achieved in such an abbreviated life. He struggled with sobriety at one point in his career, which led to a gap in his time with WWE, but rallied to enjoy arguably the best time he had as a wrestler. He was about as inspiring as anyone I've encountered.
And as of today, I'm a year older than he ever got, and that seems wrong, not only because he achieved so much in his time here, but because I'm still working toward feeling even a tenth as accomplished. I mean, I know I've done a lot. It doesn't matter how many people see that, or what my goals are, what I envision in my future. When I think of Eddie, I see someone who positively burst with enthusiasm for the opportunities presented him, and yes, even an ability to overcome challenges. He's as big a source of inspiration for me as anyone who's told stories in other ways (because wrestling itself, at its best, is storytelling), in mediums that are more traditional for writers to be drawing on.
I can only hope that if Eddie saw my life, he'd give one of those crooked grins of his and at least laugh appreciably.
This will take some explaining. Eddie Guerrero was a professional wrestler. He died in 2005, and I still remember him as my all-time favorite in the ring. He had personality to spare, and was one of the most gifted athletes the business had ever seen, a pioneer of a more dynamic style that has come to dominate wrestling today. He first stood out for me at Starrcade 1997. Goldberg was on that card, by the way, a little before he truly broke out (stuck in a meaningless feud with another former football player, Steve "Mongo" McMichael, whose career never reached anywhere near Goldberg's heights, even at that point). The main event was "the match of the century," between "Hollywood" Hulk Hogan and Sting, who was wrestling his first match since adopting his Crow persona and becoming WCW's champion against the nefarious New World Order. But it was Eddie, in his match with Dean Malenko, who really stood out that night for me.
In his WCW years, Eddie was a heel, which is wrestling for bad guy. He especially loved giving a hard time to his nephew (who, thanks to how things worked out in the family, was more or less the same age), Chavo, who looks a lot like a cousin of mine who had been killed in a bar in 1994. When Eddie made the leap to WWE in 2000, he took a massive leap in charisma by adopting the "Latino Heat" gimmick, which was in theory another of those horrible stereotype roles wrestling frequently uses, but Eddie made it his own (didn't hurt that Jerry Lawler on commentary so excitedly repeated the nickname all the time). Later, in 2003, Eddie was beginning to be recognized as an elder statesman, and his career reached its pinnacle in 2004 when he beat Brock Lesnar (yeah!) for the heavyweight championship. In his final year, Eddie spent most of it in an extended showcase feud with Rey Mysterio, but his last program was with Batista, something that sort of instantly solidified the future Drax as another favorite.
Eddie died at 38. It seems impossible, now, to think of everything he achieved in such an abbreviated life. He struggled with sobriety at one point in his career, which led to a gap in his time with WWE, but rallied to enjoy arguably the best time he had as a wrestler. He was about as inspiring as anyone I've encountered.
And as of today, I'm a year older than he ever got, and that seems wrong, not only because he achieved so much in his time here, but because I'm still working toward feeling even a tenth as accomplished. I mean, I know I've done a lot. It doesn't matter how many people see that, or what my goals are, what I envision in my future. When I think of Eddie, I see someone who positively burst with enthusiasm for the opportunities presented him, and yes, even an ability to overcome challenges. He's as big a source of inspiration for me as anyone who's told stories in other ways (because wrestling itself, at its best, is storytelling), in mediums that are more traditional for writers to be drawing on.
I can only hope that if Eddie saw my life, he'd give one of those crooked grins of his and at least laugh appreciably.
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