factoid:

Ten times as many people come to this site by searching for “lil amber” than they do by searching for “mark maynard.”

make mine a sausage cough

I coughed really hard today at work and my mouth filled up with the taste of Vienna Sausages, those little, tiny, torpedo-like, clear jelly-covered canned meat things. The last time I remember eating Vienna Sausages I was 18 and traveling through Canada in a van with my friend Dan. We were parked at a rest area and we were getting ready to settle in for the night. We’d lit this candle for light and opened a can of Vienna Sausages. I remember shaking the jelly coating off and holding them close to the flame. It was cold outside as I recall, and they may have been close to frozen. We ended up mashing them on Ritz crackers once they were warm. I remember we also opened a can of pineapple rings. I think we had both raided our parents’ houses of all of their canned food before we left.

So, that was about sixteen years ago now. Is it possible that a piece of a Vienna Sausage was stuck in my lung for 16 years and I just this morning coughed it loose, or did I have some kind of paranormal experience? Could I have been tasting the meal of a long-lost relative, or a missing child? Should I contact the FBI?

oops: the guest book fiasco

Apparently, I made a mistake a few days ago. I was trying to link to a friend’s guestbook (he had some extra space on his and he offered to let us share), but I screwed it up somehow. Instead of linking to my friend’s site, I linked to a guestbook where people were discussing the “Left Behind” series of religious novels. I hadn’t heard of them before, but apparently it’s a Christian sci-fi series about all of those people (like me I guess) who have to stay here on the Earth after the rapture. That’s when Jesus comes back to take all of the ‘saved’ people back with him to heaven. Anyway, I screwed up and I told people to start leaving their messages for me there.

I guess you could say that our two audiences didn’t quite overlap. People would leave me notes there about hybrid cars, poop-touching and finding Ritalin bottles, and the guy who ran the page would get notes like this.

Visitor 1:
When I read the first Left Behind, I was in a very bad place emotionally. Later when I watched the movie, it was like I was experiencing not only what was in the movie, but also the turmoil I felt when I was reading the book. Both times I was miraculously lifted out of this state (by you). It was like being plucked up by one of those mechanical claws in the arcade that grabs toys. I was hoisted out of the misery to now dangle above it. My troubles were worldly and did not matter so much in the end. I do feel saved but ultimately we are all in serious danger, don’t you think?

Hmm… So, I realized my mistake pretty quickly and I set out to fix it. Unfortunately, I, being completely inept in all things internetial, couldn’t do anything about it. I couldn’t change the link and I couldn’t erase the post where I left it. I just kept going to the guestbook, hoping that no one would say anything rude. Lots of people were leaving messages too. I’d log in late at night and see a new message, but then, a few minutes later, it would be gone. The guy, was swatting them down like flies. I pictured a little bell ringing in his house whenever a new one was posted and him sprinting out of bed to hit the delete key.

At any rate, I’m sorry about the confusion I’ve caused. It certainly wasn’t intentional.

Today I went to the site and I found this at the top of the page:

Please Note: This guestbook is NOT for markmaynard.com, this is the guestbook for Left Behind, http://www.matts-web.net/leftbehind/. Please don’t post messages about markmaynard.com in this guestbook. Any messages about markmaynard.com will be deleted. Thank you.

It was bold and in red. If I knew how to make it red here, I would. Anyway, try to picture it red.

Here’s another quote from the guestbook:

Visitor 2:
I feel sad for all of the babies that will die in the rapture because they don’t know the true savior.

So, I hope to get the right address to the guestbook from my friend tonight. Check back tomorrow if you want to leave a message.

my dad did this to me

Last night, Linette came home while I was watching the news and typing away on the computer. While she was talking to me, I thought, out of the corner of my eye, that I saw Michael Jackson dangling a baby over the rail of a hotel balcony.

When I got to work, I was expecting to hear people talking about it, but no one was. I mentioned it to someone and they looked at me like I was wearing a Whitney Houston concert t-shirt.

Well, I wasn’t nuts. It did happen. I’m not sure what it means, but it did take place.

My dad used to take pleasure in hanging me over cliffs and stuff when I was a kid and I think it has a lot to do with the way I am today. I remember crying and crying, and him just laughing his ass off. And, my dad didn’t even look like a monster. I can’t imagine what that baby must have been thinking.

I don’t know how this whole Michael Jackson thing is going to end, but I know it won’t be pretty.

washington post update

It’s been one day since the Washington post article and I have not received any offers yet.

What I did get, however, was another note from Jeff, listing a lot of other underground press guys who just got book deals. Jeff delights in doing this for some reason. He scours the net looking for other no-talent zine writers who get big book deals and then he shoves it under my nose so that I can join him in being bitter.

Over the course of the past year, he’s probably sent 15 of these e-mails, with ‘subject’ lines reading “mother fucking christ,” or “can you believe this shit”?

The sad thing is, I know that sooner or later either Jeff or I will get motivated to do something. When that happens, the other one will probably snap. I just hope that it’s me who gets the book offer first, and that it’s Jeff who has to kill his family and/or coworkers. I like my family and my coworkers.

should I worry

If a guy sends me a note that ends with the phrase, “Don’t worry. I’m not crazy,” should I worry? I think that I probably should.

Here’s the note:

Dear Mark,

Hi. My name is —–. I’ve been living in Ypsilanti for about a year now with a friend of mine. We moved out after graduating high school. I’m originally from —-, MI. It’s about a half hour away. Right now I go to —— Community College with all the high school drop outs and old people. It passes the time.

I’m writing because I’m working on my own zine right now. It’s called ——, and it’s all about my life and what I’m doing with myself. I’ve got articles about my attempt to cross the country on a bicycle, working overnights, participating in medical testing to make money for my zine, and I’m developing an article now about the micro-organisms that live on the body. I want to call it “—-: Population, 3,034,000.” I know it sounds a lot like Osmosis Jones, but I’m working on it all the same.

Anyway, I’d like to interview you about your own experiences with Crimewave. I wrote you a letter about 3 years ago when I was trying to make my first zine ever, “—–” and you were very personable in your response. I got the impression that you were generally a pretty nice guy. I’d love to interview you and feature it in my first issue. I’ve always been fascinated with Crimewave u.s.a. and the articles you write. I still can’t believe you got to interview Bob Zmuda, and your piece about giving Crimewave to the Jehovah’s witnesses was hillarious. I also really like the Geraldo story.

I’d be happy to send you some of the things I’ve been working on if you’d like to see that before you make your decision. If you don’t want to do an interview in person, I’d be more than happy to do it over Instant Messenger or ICQ or something like that. In fact, I’d probably be more comfortable that way. It might be a bit awkward to just meet you and start asking questions. To be honest I have no idea what I’m getting into here. If you say no I’ll be disappointed, but at least I won’t have to worry about it. If you say yes I’ll be like, what the hell am I going to ask him? Either way it should be entertaining. Sometimes you just have to hang your balls out there. (As the Kinko’s guy in Jerry Maguire once said)

So anyway that’s my proposition. Tell Linette that I love her beer can hat. She should consider making those and selling them. I’d definitely buy one. And keep making great Crimewaves. i can guarantee I’m one copy sold each time. Thanks so much for your time. Have a great day.

(PS Maynard was my grandmother’s maiden name I’m pretty sure.)

(PPS I’m not crazy, don’t worry.)

I crossed out his name and stuff, but I’ve got it here on file, just in case anything weird happens to me. I’m kind of skittish to begin with, and it doesn’t help that this guy lives in my little town. Now I’m going to be looking over my shoulder all the time.

Actually, he sounds nice and I just wrote to him and told him that I’d do the interview, but it is weird to know that people in our little town know who we are. I haven’t mentioned it yet here, but a little while ago Linette and I were eating at a local bar and a girl came up and started talking to us. She recognized us from the magazine. That’s only the second time we’ve been recognized in public. The first time was in Baltimore, at a bookstore. Some guy came up and asked for our autographs. That was a weird experience. I kind of wish my mom and dad were there to see it.

Autographs I don’t mind too much. I mind getting stabbed in the neck. I don’t want a stalker.

Goodnight moon.