Category: depression

praying

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I don’t believe in God, and the fact that Trump got back in and there’s still a significant portion of the population that supports him has me questioning humanity, but it’s election day, and I can only ask the universe to do something just for once, instead of just repeatedly indicating we’re actually in hell, but it’s not fire and brimstone, it’s just a slow descent into hopelessness, where every avenue gets blocked, every bit of optimism or glimmer of encouragement is choked off, until we all just say, fuck it, it’s too much, and write monstrous run-on sentences on our blogs before giving up completely and laying down to await the crush of our bodies beneath the tanks of bigotry, hatred and greed.

As you can tell, I’m having a good day, fighting my brain and trying to hold on to some slender sliver of hope, even as I jump to conclusions about the inevitable.

Sorry. I’m a real bummer, and I’m tired of the fight.

Target: 1200 words
Written: 739 words, novel: Bad Neighbours

Read: Look Homeward, Angel, Thomas Wolfe (the bleakness of this, admittedly very well written book is not helping)
Comics: Hawk And Dove v2 5-8 (even here, the spectre of right versus left, liberal vs con, looms large)
Music: Echo & The Bunnymen, Echo & The Bunnymen

the end of a fucking week

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It’s over. Put me out of my misery.

Put us all out of our misery.

On the plus side, I found a good book, that’s really lighting up the old brain sockets.

That’s right.

Brain sockets.

Target: 1100 words
Written: 1115 words, novel: Bad Neighbours

Read: Joy, Osho
Comics: Strykeforce 2-5
Music: Introduce Yourself, Gord Downie (The North is just fucking... ethereal)

off the rails

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It’s amazing how quickly one can go from totally caught up to completely off the rails.

I expected it when we go away next week for twelve days, but fuck.

The last three days have been a nightmare of busy with “not-my-own-shit” and everything went straight off the rails.

Why can’t people just leave me fucking be for once?

Target: 1100 words
Written: 1032 words, novel: Bad Neighbours

Read: Digital Fortress, Dan Brown
Comics: Cyber Force 31, Devil's Reign 0.5, 5-6
Music: Interview Thing, Lisbon, Beastie Boys

on status

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I guess it’s something I really don’t give a shit about, and I can’t help but wonder what’s wrong with people who do care so deeply. Are they so insecure in themselves that they can only feel important by dropping the names of people they know or have tangential relationships which, most of which consisted of being in the same room and uttering a polite hello, if that?

Sometimes, it’s just in the same room and knowing the person’s name.

But, I mean, there’s a limit. When you’re throwing around local names like they’re big celebs, maybe you ought to consider that other people know these people. It ain’t that big of a town.

That one’s white trash. This one was a bully in high school. I applaud the work that one’s doing, but my experience *of years* with them is that they are a consummate complainer, more interested in tearing down than building up, and definitely overestimating their relative skillset.

I’ve never even heard of that one, so why do you think it’s important that I know it and conflate this complete unknown’s relative “importance” with you?

Anyway, status, status, status… what’s the point? Spending so much time on it only makes you look desperate and kind of pathetic, and lowers any status or reputation you might have.

I’m certainly no paragon, and I have many, many (oh my god, so many) faults, but one thing I will give myself is that I have no interest in status. When I was younger, sure, I inflated my ego with bullshit stories to feel better about my importance in the world, but now that I’m older, have been through shit, and thoroughly tore myself down, man, who has time for that shit?

And at our age?

Life’s too short for the front.

Target: 1100 words
Written: 2124 words, novel: Bad Neighbours

Read: Miss Peregrine's Home For Peculiar Children, Ransom Riggs
Comics: Cyber Force v2 26-29
Music: Interpol, Interpol

heart tests

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I feel like I’m going through one right now.

And I literally went through one this morning.

I am trying not to give up, but damn. It’s so hard.

I can’t even bring myself to submit anywhere. Even though every single thing I’ve ever written has been accepted and published somewhere, since I first decided to start sending them out (minus comics – I don’t have an artist to work with and the one with whom I’ve considered working in the – whose style is ideal for Romance #1, is entirely unreliable), I can’t bring myself to do it.

I worry.

Get Back Again was banned for, you know, being told from the bad guy’s point of view, and since that view was super misogynist, it was considered ban-worthy. Like, have these people ever read fiction?

Good fiction doesn’t insist all their villains act like good people.

It’s kind of the whole point.

Anyway, fuck it.

Who wants some?

Target: 1100 words
Written: 1050 words, novel: Bad Neighbours

Read: Kitchen Confidential, Anthony Bourdain
Comics: Cyber Force v2 16, Cyber Force Origins 3, Ballistic 3, Velocity 1
Music: Instrument Soundtrack, Fugazi

cuttin’

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Dog nails trimmed.

That’s the best I can do today.

Fuck it. 

Target: 1100 words
Written: 2222 words, novel: Bad Neighbours

Read: Kitchen Confidential, Anthony Bourdain
Comics: Cyber Force v2 15, Codename Strykeforce 14, Ballistic 1, Cyber Force & Codename Strykeforce - Opposing Forces 1 (forces of forces of forces of forces of wait, what?  Vampires?  What the F, Ballistic?)
Music: The Information, Beck

voting

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I mean, I guess it’s worthwhile to go. I always make a point of it, but when literally no one you know or have heard of can defend or wants Doug Ford (and you know there must be people out there), you have to wonder how legit these wins are.

Low voter turnout, the surprise, unnecessary election to ensure he can “deal” with Trump.

I mean, bullshit. This guy is a bird of a feather with those assholes.

He’ll sell us out in a heartbeat if it means more slush money for him and his developer cronies.

Man, am I ever tired of corruption and stupidity. Am I ever tired of lies and flagrant disregard for the responsibility of being of service.

Because that’s what you’re supposed to be – a servant.

You’re in government because you want to help. You want to be of service.

You want to make the world a better place.

But these fucking Cons, man. They are a con.

All they give a shit about is lining their own pockets at our expense, and/or getting as much power as they possibly can.

What pieces of fucking shit.

Here’s to revolution, sooner rather than later.

Fuck ’em.

Target: 1100 words
Written: 3185 words, novel: Bad Neighbours

Read: Trust Me, I'm Lying, Ryan Holiday
Comics: Codename Strykeforce 2-3, Cyber Force 4-5
Music: In Your Honor, Foo Fighters

conflict

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It makes a good plot device, and in real life, is entirely unavoidable. As much as we’d like to eliminate conflict, the best I think we can do is minimize its impact on us, which means learning how best to handle it.

I’m filled with conflict these days – my desire to fight oppression, my desire to avoid people who suck, my own internal resistance to doing what it will take to actually take all these thoughts and dreams in my head and start shaping the world to them, instead of the other way around.

Then again, the Tao teaches doing-not-doing, so forcing the world into a shape it cannot be may be counterproductive.

Would that those would not listen break, and find the plugs in their mind falling free.

Would that we all fall free.

Would that we all love.

Would that, would that.

Target: 1100 words
Written: 1733 words, novel: Bad Neighbours

Read: Proof Of Collusion, Seth Abramson
Comics: Shadownhawk 0, Shadowhawk v4 13-15
Music: In God We Trust, Dead Kennedys

comfort

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I miss the comfort in being sad, as Kurt Cobain once opined.

Being sad is bad. But it’s better than in a constant of conflict. One can accept sadness as it is, live in it, find one’s way through it.

Conflict for the sake of conflict?

It’s going to be a tough go while I’m working at Bad Neighbours and it’s the constant contemplation of the incompatibility of viewpoints, left and right, and the futility of anger.

The inability of consequence. The pure rage of missing justice.

The absence of karma, or rather, its lethargic, procrastinating nature.

It may come around, but when? And how fucking long?

Quite frankly, too many assholes have died peacefully in their sleep on top of their piles of money, surrounded by a beautiful wife, successful children and a mistress with glittery fake boobs.

Karma does not reward waiting.

Justice is not automatic.

Target: 1100 words
Written: 920 words, novel: Bad Neighbours

Read: Amatka, Karin Tidbeck
Comics: The Maxx 20-22, Gen13/Maxx 1
Music: II, Presidents Of The United States Of America