This weekend has been overwhelming.
Far too much going on, and as I head into my sixth draft, I can’t help but think:
God damn, I suck.
Target: 1700 words
Written: 1690 words, novel: Father Lightning
Read: How To Read Nature, Tristan Gooley
Comics: Marvel Age 6, Cloak And Dagger 1-3
Music: Hanalei / Open/Close, Red Hot Chili PeppersSometimes, I feel like I’m too repetitive.
In The Mungk, it was semi-intentional. The metaphor was for trauma causing hopelessness, paralysis, as the world fell apart around you, and you descended into mindless hell.
In The Conflagration of Boor and Aghast, it’s used for some dramatic effect; Walter’s interactions with the dog, for example, grew increasingly tense, until, well, I don’t want to say until the book is released. It would be a shame to spoil it, if anyone actually cared.
In this one though, it seems out of place, and I feel like I’ve done it a lot.
Like the story could go in a crazy direction, but it doesn’t. I doesn’t really need to, but it’s a paranormal horror novel; it should a little.
I don’t know.
Is it weak? Is it thin?
Fuck, it feels thin.
Perhaps I’m not the man I thought I was.
Perhaps in the next one, one must get truly, truly insane.
Target: 1700 words
Written: 1873 words, novel: Father Lightning
Read: Armada, Ernest Cline
Comics: Capes 3-5, Invincible Universe: Battle Beast 7
Music: Hallelujah! I'm A Bum, Local H (I always wanted to be one of those, though the reality of it has ripped the romanticism away; I think it had more to do with the idea of being happy no matter the circumstance. A rejection of material things, an embrace of the present, no matter its conditions. In retrospect, a bit naive, if well intentioned.)So, so fucking tired.
How come the universe lets you have crazy dreams all night as a method of processing the sub/unconscious, but doesn’t let you have a goddamn night’s rest?
Huh, universe?
Am I sick of people or what?
Thanks, local mayoral and council candidates, for weeding yourselves out with your pro-AI data farm stance.
I was having trouble sifting through who’s what, and now I know.
There’s a few names off the list.
Fuck AI.
For the record, AI companies – none of you have any permission to use any of my work ever, for any reason, under any circumstances.
Or you can, but the cost is a billion dollars a word.
In other words, fuck you.
Target: 1700 words
Written: 1832 words, novel: Father Lightning
Read: Armada, Ernest Cline
Comics: Invincible 141-144
Music: Half-Hour Of Power, Sum 41I don’t think I’ve ever been so terminally bored at work. Like, I might actually just nod off to sleep and not come back, since my mind has decided it can’t take any more of it.
The worst.
The absolute FUCKING worst.
Although, I suppose it could be worse. I could work in a sewer, or with other people’s shit or something.
I get enough of that with our dogs and cats.
Target: 1700 words
Written: 1726 words, novel: Father Lightning
Read: Anyone, Charles Soule
Comics: Invincible 126-128, Tech Jacket v2 12
Music: Hacks | Official Playlist, Various (I really wanted this to be better, because the actual soundtrack was so good)It’s bizarre to me how when I throw on the headphones at work and put on an album, that it doesn’t matter what it is, it hits me somewhere directly in the raw nerve feelings, and every workday in the office begins to feel like an existential crisis.
Today, for example, I swerved from Transplants to Jimmy Buffett to Cameron Halcombe and Billie Eilish, and it felt like absolute hell, in the most incredible way. Nirvana didn’t help.
Why are all my nerves raw?
Why am I experiencing such psychotically exquisite depth of feeling?
Why so barenerved?
Like my chest, ripped to pieces.
Why?
And why don’t I hate it?
Target: 1600 words
Written: 960 words, novel: Father Lightning
Read: The Stand, Stephen King
Comics: Invincible 79-81, Guarding The Globe 5
Music: From The Muddy Banks Of The Wishkah, NirvanaAnd other such fun. We did get out for lunch, which was nice, but yeah. If I’m going to be stuck in my cabin all day, maybe it shouldn’t be with the whole gang, and no time to read, and a goddamned plugged toilet minutes before I go to bed (not my fault).
I’ll be honest. I am short-fused when I don’t get that sweet, sweet alone time.
It is something I wish the people around me truly understood.
It is something the world, in its current incarnation, barely understands, with its constant notifications, constant connection, constant updates.
Never was a world more lonely than the one where no one ever shuts up.
Target: 1600 words
Written: 2604 words, novel: Father Lightning
Read: The Stand, Stephen King
Comics: Invincible 68-69, Invincible Presents: Atom Eve & Rexsplode 1-2
Music: Frizzle Fry, Primus (fuck, I forgot what a killer album this is)Not the seriousness of the situation, but the sensation of being pulled down, to my knees, to the floor, to sink in and let my mind bleed out my ears into insensate despair.
I am fighting.
I am not yet losing, but it’s real fuckin’ close.
The kindness thing I can do for myself today is breathe. Continue to breathe.
I’m not sure what the trigger is – probably the monstrous headache I suffered through all day yesterday, and the copious amounts of Advil required to stave off the smallest part of it, plus all the stress of getting everything ready to go away for a week, which should be joyful and peaceful, but is often too busy and people-filled to be so.
Would that I could live in the woods, and release books for free.
Or hide them away, to be discovered after I’m gone, and released to posthumous brilliance.
To the floor, it be, then.
Target: 1600 words
Written: 2383 words, novel: Father Lightning
Read: The Faded Sun: Shon'jir, C.J. Cherryh (perhaps it's just the knowledge of my inferiority)
Comics: Noble Causes 37, Brit v2 9, Invincible 55, Dynamo 5 18
Music: Freaked Out And Small, The Presidents Of The United States Of America (but hopefully, not this last one)The anger is going.
It is not gone, but the only way to truly forgive oneself is to let go.
Let go and take action.
That’s all one can do.
One cannot be free until one lets go of guilt, and then moves to make amends.
Or at the very least, not to repeat the mistake.
Target: 1600 words
Written: 1594 words, novel: Father Lightning
Read: Enchanter's End Game, David Eddings
Comics: The Pact 1-2, Noble Causes 10, Invincible 0
Music: For Tomorrow, BlurNot just in the world, but in me.
I’m angry at the world’s situation.
I’m angry at myself, for wasting so much time.
I’m angry at myself, for not being a better man.
I’m angry at circumstances beyond my control.
I’m angry at being blamed for things I didn’t even do, and never would.
I’m angry at greed.
I’m angry at corruption.
I’m angry at myself for allowing depression to dictate the terms of my life.
I’m angry at other people, for constantly invading my time and space.
I’m angry, because I’m not nice enough, and because I cannot be less nice.
I’m angry at my own frustation.
I’m angry, again, at my inability to change any of this.
I’m angry at my inertia.
Target: 1600 words
Written: 1818 words, novel: Father Lightning
Read: Definitely Dead, Charlaine Harris
Comics: Noble Causes 8-9, Invincible 21-22
Music: For Those About To Rock, AC/DCLook, I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about the best way to live, but in my experience, the folks who are loudest about how you should live, are often the weakest in actually following through with that.
Those who are living the way they want generally don’t crow about it; they offer humble notes that they put out there and if someone takes inspiration from it, great. If not, well, that has little bearing on how the first person’s life continues to go.
They’ve figured it out. Those saying, “behave this way!” are often not behaving that way.
(See Tolle, Eckhart, Robbins, Tony and Trump, Donald)
So when I post be kind eighteen times, it’s a much a reminder to myself as it is anything. I don’t feel like I’m being very kind these days.
I’m very empathetic. Of that, there’s no doubt. I feel the weight of the world and everyone else’s emotional state keenly.
The problem is that I don’t act on it. I don’t offer to listen, or demonstrate compassion, or help out in any way.
I sit back. I evaluate. I judge. I know what I should be doing, but I don’t.
I make excuses about needing to handle my own stressors first; but maybe that’s just a cop-out.
Depression as procrastination for engaging with life and other people
(It certainly kills my drive to put myself out there.)
Anyway, that’s my thought for the day. Start small, do a few good things for the people you love. Then, world peace and the end of hunger.
Target: 1600 words
Written: 2043 words, novel: Father Lightning
Read: 100 Side Hustles: Unexpected Idea For Making Extra Money Without Quitting Your Day Job, Chris Guillebeau
Comics: Tech Jacket 6, Invincible 4-5, Brit 1
Music: Foo Fighters Essentials, Foo Fighters (it's been a few foo foo kind of days)