Category: depression

legacy

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I want to leave behind a body of work that people can dig into and enjoy, even if it’s just in the dissection of me as a person.

I’m sure it won’t all be flattering; I’ve behaved terribly at times.

Such is the life of a drunken wannabe punk kid from the small towns of Ontario. You’ll say and do shit to regret later; apologies don’t mean it didn’t happen.

It also doesn’t mean it’s who you ended up.

I don’t know how I’ll end up.

But I’m worried I don’t have the stamina or force of will for the long run.

Please don’t let me end up one of these cozy mystery writers, or some detective or spy novel fuck, churning out the same formulaic CSI bullshit each week.

It’s always the goddamned butler.

I want my legacy to be more complex than that.

More compelling; equally pathetic, mildly horrific, one long cringe punctuated by the occasional, “Okay, he’s growing on me.”

He’s getting better.

Please let me leave it behind.

Target: 1000 words
Written: 326 words, poem: Roses And Violets

Read: Constellation Games, Leonard Richardson
Comics: Chew 9-12
Music: Never Been On MTV, Dead Kennedys

the mungk

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It started off as a riff on a couple of classics, as so many of my things do: the monster under the bed and it was a dark and stormy night…

I can’t seem to help postulating on other ways to see things; it’s a gift and a curse. The need to play devil’s advocate and constantly ask what other ways a thing can be seen is so ingrained in me, it’s just about impossible to keep from indulgence.

The monster under the bed merged with the concept of little things draining the life and verve you’re born with, and grew to encompass loss, abandonment and trauma.

The Mungk is a meditation on the birth of resignation, of fatalism.

Hopelessness, as seen through the guise of a children’s story.

It’s an exploration of how, as we grow, the world reveals itself to be far less well-meaning and static than we presume as children, where parents are gods, friends are forever and it’s one adventure after the other.

I won’t claim to have been abandoned or abused or any of that good stuff. My parents were pretty good. We had our fights, but nothing like what other poor souls have been through. I was disemboweled by a tree when I was eight; it didn’t make me grow up vowing revenge against improperly cut stumps.

(What a shitty superhero that would have been – the Leveller!)

I was more traumatized by the loss of faith; as I’ve said before, if you want to lose your religion, read the Bible. If you’re not out by Leviticus, there’s something wrong with your basic human decency.

The Mungk is trauma on trauma on trauma.

It’s overwhelming, it’s so much bigger than something we can deal with, in a child’s parable.

I’m sorry to unleash this on the world, but well, it’s the thing I’m most proud of, to this point. It’s good.

I think it’s great.

I could be wrong.

That’s the risk a person takes in creating anything. We build, we create, we connect the dots. We put it out into the world and now, it’s something for the jackals. Their noses twitch, their lips pull back from their teeth.

They pounce.

Anyway, the Mungk is born, for better or worse.

Only time will tell if this post is the beginning of something huge, or just another whisper in a storm.

Target: 1000 words
Written: 1618 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: Mindset: The New Psychology Of Success, Carol Dweck
Comics: Chew 1-4
Music: Neutral Milk Hotel Essentials, Neutral Milk Hotel

falling asleep

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Falling into skyrocketing blood pressure.

It’s like being so drunk you lose all balance and suddenly, tip sideways into the snow, but you’re stuck in the moment where balance fails and you’re just about to tip uncontrollably…

Without even the good time first.

Well, technically. I’m sure the abuse I put my body through was a good time at the time. I just don’t remember any of it.

Target: 1000 words
Written: 1549 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: I'll Be Gone In The Dark, Michelle McNamara
Comics: The Boys 57-59, The Boys: Butcher, Baker, Candlestick Maker 1
Music: Necessary Evil, Deborah Harry

snow market

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Technically, it’s the Dresden Night Market, but whatever. It snowed all day yesterday and is slated to all day today and tomorrow and the next and the next, etc., etc., etc., until climate change murders us all.

Assuming our new fascist overlords don’t get there first. My hope is that Trump’s ego pisses off the rich and they start using their influence to fuck him over.

But for now, it’s winter markets and praying the world doesn’t collapse before I get a chance to finish all that I desire to do.

It’s just too goddamn bad I decided to leave the starting line after most people have already run the race.

Target: 1000 words
Written: 1559 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: I'll Be Gone In The Dark, Michelle McNamara
Comics: The Boys: Highland Laddie 4-6, The Boys 48
Music: Near Truths And Hotel Rooms, Todd Snider (DB Cooper is stuck in my head; that's where you'll find him)

according to my calculations

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The Mungk should be finished in ten to fourteen days.

Then, onto the scarier phase – trying to fucking sell it.

Writing it is the easy part, compared to all the gladhanding and sending and trying to build audiences and dealing with the constant rejection.

And it’s a lot of rejection.

I think maybe sometimes that the whole universe has looked at me with the most cursory glance and said, nah. Not interested.

Dismissed out of hand by god.

The question is do we disappear, or do we get pissed and say, oh yeah? Look at me now, while smashing everything around them.

How you like me now?

Target: 1000 words
Written: 1173 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: I'll Be Gone In The Dark, Michelle McNamara
Comics: The Boys 47, The Boys: Highland Laddie 1-3
Music: Nazi Punks Fuck Off, Dead Kennedys (because, you know, fuck 'em. Fuck all the Nazis. I'm looking at you, Conservatives and Republicans.)

a slim chance of hope

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Every day, I tell myself the same thing:

This, too, is the way. This, too, shall pass.

It’s a mantra that keeps me from screaming, or worse.

It’s ringing a little hollow these days. Perhaps it’s just another way to avoid taking action on the things that haunt me.

Perhaps.

Target: 1000 words
Written: 2287 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: Uncertainty: Turning Fear And Doubt Into Fuel For Brilliance, Jonathan Fields
Comics: The Boys 31-34
Music: Natural Born Killers, Nine Inch Nails

better already

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Man, sometimes, you just have to suck it up and take your medicine (if you can afford the medicine, which is a whole other issue, and thank goodness, I live in Canada, at least until Poilievre gets in, which he looks increasingly likely to do, the slimy, deceitful fuck).

Sofi’s better already. Two doses of antibiotic and some probiotic and she’s already pooped, slept through the night and seems so much more content.

Poor baby.

I wish she didn’t have to go through that. Would that no one would, but I suppose it shapes character.

Still, that’s kind of bullshit. We can learn through happiness as much as we can through sorrow.

We just don’t.

Target: 1000 words
Written: 1872 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: Words For Pictures, Brian Michael Bendis
Comics; The Boys 17-20
Music: Use Your Illusion II, Guns 'n' Roses

still stuck

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I’m blowing this thing up like a goddamn volcano at an elementary school science fair and it still won’t budge.

What the fuck is down there?

Fucking pipes existing as real goddamned life metaphors.

What the fuck is stuck, so deep down inside?

Target: 900 words
Written: 1193 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: Robinson Crusoe, Daniel Defoe
Comics: Angelus 4-6
Music: Urban Hymns, The Verve (one of my all-time favourite albums... simply one of the best)

stuck plug

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My bathroom sink is suddenly completely plugged. Like, no drainage whatsoever.

Tried Drano, tried boiling water, snake, plunger, nothing but silt and shit coming up.

I’m not sure how; all that ever goes down there is toothpaste, and the occasional whiskers (and long blonde hair that I try to clean out of the trap.)

And yet, suddenly, today, like the rest of my day. Totally fucked.

Totally stuck.

Like me, seemingly forever.

Target: 900 words
Written: 1065 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: Robinson Crusoe, Daniel Defoe
Comics: Angelus: Pilot Season 1, Angelus 1-3
Music: Uptown Special, Mark Ronson (my attempt to find something upbeat - it didn't work)