As U.S. election exit polls began to point to a second presidency for Donald Trump, many Americans were already looking for another kind of exit: moving abroad.
Google searches for “move to Canada” surged 1,270% in the 24 hours after U.S. East Coast polls closed on Tuesday, company data shows. Similar searches about moving to New Zealand climbed nearly 2,000% while those for Australia jumped 820%.
Late Wednesday evening on the U.S. East Coast, Google searches about emigrating were hitting all-time highs for all three countries, according to a Google official.
While many despondent Americans may choose to abandon their country during tough times, Hank has chosen to abandon all of humanity.
A disillusioned aging white male forsakes all humanity, changes his name to Sorrow, and begins identifying as an it, just as its white son learns his Black girlfriend is pregnant, and you begin a murderous rampage targeting interracial couples just like them.
Interested in receiving an advance reader copy of SORROW to help Kurt get the word out about it, send an email to hank@kurtbrindley.com to let him know and and he’ll send you a copy pronto.
So here we are the day after such an historic election, one full of hope for some and angst for others, and it is my pleasure to present to you my new novel Sorrow.
A disillusioned aging white male forsakes all humanity, changes his name to Sorrow, and begins identifying as an it, just as its white son learns his Black girlfriend is pregnant, and you begin a murderous rampage targeting interracial couples just like them.
I believe I mentioned here in the past that I completed a novel in the summer of 2023, and that I was determined to get it published in a traditional manner. Well, after a year-and-a-half of the manuscript being rejected — and by being rejected I mean mostly being ignored — by over a dozen publishers, it is time for me to face the reality that the only way this novel will get published is independently by yours truly.
Since I am seeking your help in getting the word out about Sorrow, particularly by you reading a free advanced copy of the book and posting your review of it at all the usual places, I should probably make you aware of the potential elements of the tale that may cause concern to some.
Let’s not call them “trigger warnings” because that term in itself is quite triggering to many; let’s instead call these concerning elements of the tale simply “noted concerns.”
SORROW’S NOTED CONCERNS
Behavioral health concerns
Suicidal ideations concerns
Abortion concerns
Homelessness concerns
Homicidal concerns
Gun violence concerns
Police brutality concerns
Racism concerns
Identity concerns
Pronoun concerns
Sexual content concerns
Brief nudity concerns
Vulgar language concerns
Religious cult concerns
Alcoholism concerns
Smoking, both tobacco and marijuana, concerns
Pandemic masking concerns
Fully developed Black, Hispanic, and white female characters created by an old white male concerns
I think that about covers the concerning elements of the tale, with some elements, of course, being more concerning than others. At least now you have some idea of what to expect of the story’s content. If it were a movie it would definitely have a solid “R” rating.
I guess I should point out that there are also some magical realism and meta-fictional elements involved in the tale. Perhaps, depending on your literary sensitivities, they too should be included in the noted concerns section, lol.
Anyway…
What is the crux of Sorrow?
Let me give you a full synopsis of it (or is it summary? I always get the two confused):
Harold Thorson Sterner, Sr., who had come to be known as Hank, an aging white male no longer able to bear the downward spiraling, troubled state of the world, has decided to end his relationship with it, the world, and all that it entails: all humanity and its entire “civilized” existence, his name, his family, his profession, all his responsibilities, everything, even, perhaps, his conscious mind.
To ensure his new relationship with the world is clear and properly regarded by others, he legally changes his name from Harold Thorson Sterner, Sr., to Sorrow and begins identifying, not as a man, or even as a human for that matter, but simply as a being, an it.
He, or rather, it, has made this what turns out to be rather ironic decision to forsake humanity just as its white aspiring author son learns his Black aspiring business executive girlfriend is pregnant, and you, an aspiring serial killer, begin a murderous rampage targeting interracial couples just like them out in sunny Los Angeles.
Sorrow, up until now a semi-celebrated author who had moved recently to sunny Los Angeles to adapt its former self’s successful novels into screenplays, attempts to explain its decision to forsake the world it in a letter to its estranged wife Evelyn, who now lives separated and carefree from her disillusioned husband in Miami, enjoying life with her young Cuban boytoy Alejo.
The letter, more a missive really, prompts Sorrow’s son, who is already in the midst of his own crisis due to his girlfriend’s unexpected pregnancy, to trek out to LA in hope of finding his odd father and providing him the care that he needs. His girlfriend, distraught at her boyfriend’s untimely departure, soon follows him out there. Together in LA, the troubled couple has unwittingly placed themselves at risk of your violent wrath.
And so, as the story unfolds and Sorrow slowly morphs into what? a Christ-like figure? a mad bodhisattva? just another behavioral health breakdown victim littering the streets of LA?, and as whatever it morphs into somehow draws to it other disillusioned souls who begin worshipping it, and as three of its original acolytes, a self-identified indigent and two hippies, are able to magically fly – one by spinning his long, matted hair like helicopter rotor blades and the others by vigorously flapping large palm fronds typically reserved for their worship of Sorrow – and use these skills to fight evil forces on behalf of Sorrow, and as all but one of the story’s narrators mysteriously, suspiciously, disappear, and even as the body count from your murderous rampage steadily grows around it…
Sorrow does not respond.
Okay, maybe that was a bit TMI, but, simply put, what we have here with Sorrow is a very contemporary tale with all of society’s, especially American society’s, tragedy and drama, hopes and dreams.
If you are interested in reading and reviewing Sorrow, and I hope you are, please email me at hank@kurtbrindley.com and I’ll shoot you a copy post haste, as I hope to have the story published on Amazon soon.
Or you can just leave a comment here if you prefer and we can take it from there.
I’m always looking to be spooked in an intellectually plausible and unsettling cinematic way. Unfortunately, most modern horror flicks consistently fail me.
However, I just watched a production that hits the mark spot on and it has chilled me right down to the marrow of my bones.
Just never imagined such a horrific accomplishment could be achieved through an Apple advertisement…
The deceased author William Gay, that is, not the former professional football cornerback William Gay.
Well, William Gay the cornerback may also be a literary genius, I’m just not aware of it.
But I am aware that Nic Pizzolatto is too a genius, at least of the screenwriting variation, as is evidenced by his hugely popular HBO series True Detective.
I watched season one of True Detective as soon as it was released, what… nearly ten years ago now.
I liked it. Maybe not as much as many seemed to have at the time, and certainly not as much as I like season two (I know, I know… I’m woefully in the minority on this one – I have never been much of a fan of Woody Harrelson’s acting, and I thought Matthew McConaughey’s character was a bit over the top), but I liked it enough to dig into the particulars of its development.
Which is when I discovered Nic Pizzolatto.
And which is when shortly thereafter I discovered Thomas Ligotti…
As this highly misanthropic madman (both literally and literarily) genius author was a huge influence on NP and his creation and development of MM’s forlorn and highly misanthropic character Detective Rustin “Rust” Cohle.
Come to find out there is an actual philosophical movement, however slight (hopefully), that actual believes that, for the sake of humanity, I guess, humanity needs to be disappeared.
Apparently, NP was so influenced by Tl that some/many believed he plagiarized the immensely pessimistically nihilistic author for much of MM/Cohle’s dialogue.
I can understand why (while imitation might be the sincerest form of flattery, I do not condone plagiarism of any stripe), TL’s short stories are some of the most awesomely horrific stories I have ever read/listened to, and I truly appreciate NP for turning me on to the human depressant…
Although, to date, I have not yet been able to make it all the way through his anti-humanity book. It’s too depressing, simple as that.
Incidentally, during Joe Rogan’s last interview with Elon Musk recently, I was surprised to discover, seeing how well informed they both always seem to be, that neither of them seemed to be aware of TL or of his influence on NP or of the whole down with humanity philosophy as they first heard about the Voluntary Human Extinction Movement in a less than recent New York Times article entitled Earth Now Has 8 Billion Humans. This Man Wishes There Were None.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8OnqAHpLxkA
Rogan probably has heard of it before but as much dope as he smokes and as old as he’s getting to be, he probably burned out the brain cells responsible for recalling that information.
Anyway, long story short…
Or have I missed that bus already?
Anyway, for some reason I forget, a few weeks ago I mentioned to my son that I enjoy season two of TD much more than season one.
(Season three isn’t even in the discussion as it is immensely forgettable. And from what I’ve seen of the upcoming season four, it looks equally immensely forgettable.)
My son was shocked at my (poor) taste and went on to pan season two and praise season one, as do most.
So, I figured, since I’ve already watched season two three times, I might as well give season one another shot, seeing that it’s been nearly ten years since I last watched it.
And I recently finished rewatching it.
And I still enjoyed it, probably more because this time around I was familiar with TL and his work and the insight from it was appreciated.
And though I still prefer season two, I still liked season one enough once again to once again look up ol’ NP to see if he has been up to anything new.
Didn’t really discover anything new by NP that interested me, but I did discover this old Buzzfeed article that interested me greatly, as it lists all the literary influences of NP’s that went into the development of season one.
And it was from this article that I discovered William Gay.
The author, not the cornerback.
And I cannot believe I have never heard of this good ol’ boy literary genius before.
And by good ol’ boy, I mean that was one dude whose neck was severely reddened. Crispy, if you know what I mean*.
Never had I read/listened to a collection of short stories where ever single story is as completely fantastic as these are. Especially in a collection written by just one author.
Because my eyes are shot because of the side effects from my bone marrow transplant of so long ago, I listen to books now more than I read them.
Consequently, I have a pretty good ear for great narrators. Great as defined by me anyway.
Tom Stescschulte has been a longtime favorite of mine and this to me is the best work he has ever done.
So, yeah, once again I must thank NP for turning me on to yet another amazing author.
And I hope I’m wrong about season four. I’m a fan of Jodie Foster so I hope she pulls it off.
So, that’s the short story long of it.
Oh yeah!
Since I’ve already missed the short bus, let bring up one last thing…
I’ll make it fast – punctuation be damned.
If you are a fan of audiobooks like I am but are not a fan of Audible’s expensive subscription like I am – the only reason I started my subscription back up recently is because I was offered and I accepted a one-month free promo (which they are betting I will forget to cancel but which I marked my calendar so to hell with them I won’t fall into that expensive trap) – then you must be estatic like I am that Spotify is now offering audiobooks for those who are subscribed with a premium membership like I am and all the books I have on my audible wish list are available on spotify as are many many more and my TBLT (to be listened to) list is so long now I probably won’t finish it until I’m in my eighties, which, sadly, is almost as close as my forties are far away…
Yeah…
*Apologies for the stereotype but, dagburnit that dude is one countrified dude. Not that it’s a bad thing, it’s just, well, you know how the stereotype goes…
And by fascist, I’m sure you know to whom I am referring it shall be dropped upon.
Yeah, Trump, of course.
Now, if you think like I do – and heaven help you if you do – but if you think like me then you probably have been regarding Trump as a fascist for a long, long time.
At least to me 2015 seems like a long, long time ago.
But according to the political scientist who wrote this Atlantic article, regarding Trump as a fascist for so long has been far too premature.
His thesis being, words matter and by its literal definition, Trump has not in the past qualified as a true fascist.
He offers several reasons why, some of them being that he is basically too dumb and irrational and immature to be one.
He didn’t mention anything about his hands being too small but you can kind of find it in there if you read between the lines.
Maybe not.
Real fascists, according to the author, are very serious thinkers and politically astute.
So yeah, by his standards the less than astute Trump does not meet them.
At least, perhaps, until recently when, during a speech honoring our country’s veterans no less, he began referring to just about everyone who oppose him as “vermin.”
Which makes for a rather hefty list…
We will drive out the globalists, we will cast out the communists, Marxists, fascists. We will throw off the sick political class that hates our country … On Veterans Day, we pledge to you that we will root out the communists, Marxists, fascists and the radical left thugs that live like vermin within the confines of our country, that lie and steal and cheat on elections and will do anything possible … legally or illegally to destroy America and to destroy the American dream.
Here’s the too-dumb-to-be-a-legitimate-fascist-but-still-dangerous-nonetheless’ full speech for context. If you can stomach it..
And as Mussolini’s ghost was recently quoted as saying:
Trump, I attempted to take over the world with Adolf Hitler. I knew Adolf Hitler. Adolf Hitler was a friend of mine. Trump, you idiot, you are no Adolf Hitler!
Perhaps that quote was taken a bit out of context, but fortunately for us and the rest of the free world, most of Trump’s cultist tools are even more intellectually challenged than their tool of a cult leader so they won’t know the difference…
Not sure if that makes them any less dangerous, but they sure are fun to laugh at.
I became a widow at age 57, after 38 years of marriage to my husband, a good man I loved dearly and miss every day. He was a hard worker, employed in the logging industry for over 20 years until he was in an accident on the job. He was prescribed OxyContin, which at the time was being touted as a miracle drug with a low risk of dependency.
My husband was so functional and so discreet that I didn’t know for years he had moved on to heroin.
I used to smoke cigarettes and drink a lot of alcohol when I was younger. Had to maintain that infamous drunken sailor image that the navy worked so long and hard to develop.
I quit smoking in 1990. I still miss cigarettes.
I quit drinking in 2009. The day I learned I had leukemia.
And after I developed severe graft versus host disease in my lungs and eyes as a side effect from my bone marrow transplant, I was placed on a high dosage of prednisone for many years. When it was finally decided it was safe to take me off the steroid immunosuppressant, it took over six months to wean me from it, such is the power of its addiction and the danger of its withdrawal.
So, unfortunately, I have some idea the overwhelming helplessness one feels when addicted to a life consuming habit that cannot be denied…
When it comes to pain killers, I also have quite the history with them. Fortunately, I am allergic to them. They make me itch madly.
I learned about the allergy after I had shoulder surgery at Portsmouth Naval Hospital a long time ago.
After the surgery I was placed in an open bay ward – there must have been maybe 30 post-op sailors in there with me. I was hooked up to a morphine drip and given a button I could press to activate it.
It wasn’t until much later when a nurse saw me pressing the button like crazy that I learned that the drip was on a five-minute timer.
I scratched and scratched for two days straight because of the opium.
I scratched so much, I had everyone in the ward unconsciously scratching themselves at phantom itches along with me. They begged the nurses to get me out of the ward.
So much for the good stuff.
But what I hate most about pain killers is the constipation… sadly we learned after Matthew Perry’s death that his addiction was so bad that at one point his colon erupted.
Yeah…
But, occasionally, I was still placed on pain killers for various cancer treatment reasons until finally I put it in my health record that I wanted nothing stronger than non-opioid pain killers.
Apparently per my request, after my bone marrow transplant in 2010 I was given a synthetic opioid pain killer I had never heard of before.
It was called fentanyl.
I don’t remember giving my consent to being given the drug. I’m not saying I didn’t give it, just if I did, I don’t remember. I don’t remember much post-transplant.
This drug was so strong, I essentially was in a medically induced coma for three days before my wife, afraid I was dying, finally went ballistic and forced them to take me off the drug.
The irony is, even in my zombie state, the drug made me itch so badly my under garments were torn and bloody from scratching so much. All without anyone realizing it until after I finally came to.
I did a lot of research on the drug for my novel The Good Kill.
It was gut wrenching.
I’m sure you’ve seen the headlines about children dying just for accidentally touching the residue of their addicted parents’ stash.
Some seriously deadly bad juju fentanyl is.
My heart breaks thinking about all the damage it and other addictive pain killers have done and are doing to so many addicts throughout my addicted country.
Yeah…
Xi Jinping is in town.
It is expected that Biden will confront him about China’s culpability in the illegal fentanyl production and trade.
I hope so.
If you have any doubt that it is China’s unwritten policy to get and keep our country addicted to the drug, you need to read this Propublica article.
It’s unbelievable.
It reads like an implausible movie treatment for an outlandish Hollywood action spy thriller…
Life is all it is – joyful, sad, comprehensive, confusing, peaceful, violent, and on and on and on…
Of course, regardless of what reality tries to tell one, it can only be what one – you, me, each unique individual making up the all of we – says it is.
And no matter how hard we/I try to understand it, to challenge it, to master it, chances are we/I never will; and chances are along the way we/I will alienate those who see reality 180 degrees differently than you/me.
So, understanding our understanding and execution of life will always be incomplete and often inaccurate, and way off kilter to many, accepting that some will love us for what we do and, sadly, some with hate us for the same, will hopefully make it all a bit less painful.
Doing a reread of Big Will’s Titus Andronicus so what better way to summon the happy dancing spirits today than by rocking out to a song by, you got it, Titus Andronicus…
If only ours was a union even a little more better…
