Adam P. Knave

Adam P. Knave wrote this, but you knew that, since this is his site. That's kinda how it works.

We all live here

You’re not good enough. Everyone around you hates you because you’re lagging behind where they are. Everyone is laughing in secret. You’re a talentless joke. Keep trying, you can’t catch up but it’s funny to watch you fail. I bet you think that’s well done. You fucking joke. Every day. Every night. The demons come out to play. They whisper and point and giggle and mock as they dance around the room, watching us, hoping to see us flinch, and eventually curl up in despair. We all live here. We all live in this liminal space between creator and creation. This space that is full of demons. They’re your real friends, they’re tell you. They understand you. The demons know what is truly going on, they swear. It’s not pessimistic, or negative, they’re quite sure. It’s realistic, and shouldn’t be…

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Do the work

So I got a tattoo today. It’s my 40th birthday, and so I decided to get myself something. Here it is, just after it was finished: Yup, it sits on my inside left arm, where I can see it constantly. That’s the idea. This is 100% for me alone. It’s about writing, sure. But it’s about more than that. It’s a general way of life. If you want something: You do the work. If you want to be a writer – you do the work. If you want to eat – you do the work. What the work is varies every time, of course. Sometimes it’s a bit on the “not much to really do” side. If you want to eat take-out, you do the work. You know, make a phone call for delivery. If you want to write a…

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True Blood – the best worst thing ever.

Way back in the far away year 2008 Alan Ball worked to adapt Charlene Harris’ Southern Vampire Mystery series of books into a TV show. That sort of thing happens all the time. What doesn’t happen all the time is the start of one of the most interesting (for certain special values) and best (for other certain special values) TV shows ever created. So let us discuss the magic that is True Blood. The first season of True Blood floundered like many shows do. They had a premise, and some good ideas taken from the novels along with their own takes on character and plot and they charged fully ahead. But it didn’t gel yet. It was just sort of there. Blood, gore, boobs and vampires. That was what it had. But what it would have was much stranger indeed….

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Dream spaces

I dunno. Maybe everyone does this. I honestly don’t know. But since I was a kid I dream in reoccurring places. Not real places, mind you. But buildings, homes, apartments, structures – that are the same as they were the night and week before. I will then have dreams in that space generally until I move, or am about to move. When I am about to move I end up in a different space that lasts until I have moved. After that the space tends to stay the same. Every now and then it will radically shift and for a few years I’ll be in a new space but they are pretty stable. Stable to the point I can map them out. Each space has an internal consistency that holds and dreams take place in them. Ordinary dreams – phone…

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X-Men Days of Future Past

So I went to go see X-Men Days of Future Past today and I had some… feelings about it. Then I thought – I could share them! And so I will do just that. But with that sort of discussion comes spoilers – so be warned and proceed at your own risk! All right, anyway, let’s talk about this film. I have yet to see an X-Men film I truly loved. I dig the comics, always have, but the films leave me kinda baffled in so many ways and this one is no different.

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Goat Rider

A pitch for something that will never happen but I want to share it anyway. I mean if someone wants to pay me to write this for Marvel, I 100% will… Beatrice Albinson saw something she shouldn’t have. The robots came for her, at night. They didn’t want her to tell anyone. No one could know about The Plan. So Beatrice ran. She hid. She ran some more. Beatrice hid in the dark spaces. She ran and hid and hid and ran until there was no where else she could think of. The robots were tireless, but Beatrice was only human. And then she came across the stable. There shouldn’t have been a stable near the West Side Highway. Beatrice had always thought it was a bagel shop, truth be told. But no, a stable for sure. Big door, smelled…

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Get up. Water the mulch. Go inside. Work. Water the mulch.

Growing up in NY I never had a lawn or yard or anything like that. So when I moved to Portland and saw that the lawns at the house were basically only weeds, a few scraps of grass clinging on, I sighed. I wanted to try having a real lawn, once in my life. So I found a great landscaper and they came by and took the place back to zero. Kept the trees and all just ditched the lawns and reseeded, covering it in mulch and all that. Except. Well. It’s a bright tan lawn now until the grass grows in. If it grows in. I don’t know, will it? Well it needs watering, of course. Twice a day until the grass comes in a bit, on days it doesn’t rain. So, of course, this week is rain-free. Now…

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Portland – polite garbage… wait…

After spending 38 years in NY (with tiny exceptions for a few years in Boston) I moved to Portland this past October. And already the changes have started. It’s… strange, but in no way unwelcome. The first thing I noticed was that Portland seemed too polite. Like, I mean NYers are polite (we really are) but also in a hurry. So it’s always a sort of polite drive-by. But in Portland when they ask how you’re doing – they want to hear it. At length. And will ask follow-ups. And tell you about themselves. I… I have no need for that. I really don’t. But I stand there and do some chit-chatting just because I can’t very well set fire to strangers and run off cackling. I mean, I guess I could. But I shouldn’t, and don’t. But it is…

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A start

The dragon roared as it died, shaking the ground beneath our feet. We could see the arcing lights of whatever high-born magic killed the giant lizard as they stained the sky and burnt the clouds. We just didn’t care. That was the high-born, doing their best to waste our world. We weren’t them, follow? No, we kept up with what we were doing. Well. The others kept up. I kept watching them. They beat on Ken a while longer and then just got bored, drifting away in little clumps. I took notes. Technique: who favored which arm, who liked to kick, to bite, that sort of thing. It came in handy to know. My parents had been high-born, but fell from grace due to serving the crown too well. No one talks about it, that sort of thing couldn’t happen,…

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