Category: depression

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

spiralling again

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I’m doing it again. I feel like giving up, starting over, losing more time, more years, more precious life force, precious focus.

Christ, at this point, maybe heaven’s a better option. Or would be, if I believed in an afterlife.

In any just afterlife, we’d spend eternity finding out all the things we’d ever wanted to know, to experience all the things we ever wanted to experience, to be all the people we ever wanted to be, to relive moments of our lives in as many permutations as we choose, to see what it really would have felt like to take that stand, to try that thing, to make that move on someone special.

Much of it would be unpleasant, but without the endless self-deception, with the ability to try again and learn and grow and be better, what would there be to lose?

Lifetimes lived in an instant. Fantastical trips beyond imagination. Relationships won and lost, friendships gained, battles fought, tyrants brought low by our actions. Our dedication.

Of course, that’s speculation.

But to attempt to live life as it is, good and bad, filled with glory and tragedy, joy and pain, fully engaged with it, stripping away all our blinders?

We may have a limited amount of time to do it in, but it’s still worth the trip.

Target: 1100 words
Written: 1581 words, novel: Bad Neighbours

Read: Ready Player One, Ernest Cline
Comics: The Maxx 8-11
Music: If I Should Fall From Grace With God, The Pogues

back in the office

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It’s been five weeks since I was there, and it still sucks.

Man, do I ever prefer my cozy home office. One can practically feel the stress melting away when I think of it. Plus, I can get more done on breaks and lunches; I don’t have to try and jam it all in before I leave for work or after I get home. It’s like gaining an hour a day.

My writing only takes roughly that; it’s a great time to do laundry or dishes or prep a meal.

Why anyone would ever want to be in an office in this day and age, if they didn’t absolutely have to…

Fucking ridiculous.

(Plus, I’m actually more productive at home; I’ve too much social anxiety to like sitting in a crowd all day).

Target: 1000 words
Written: 370 words, comic: Western Cradle #4

Read: Tropic Of Kansas, Christopher Brown
Comics: Preacher 45-48
Music: I Have A Pony, Steven Wright

my annual dose of ptsd

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The Christmas party of my former place of employment, which drove me to the brink, out of my mind, and into crippling debt in trying to think there was a way out of it all.

My wife still works there. It’s still awful.

On the plus side, they fired a bunch of people, so it looks like they’re paring down to sell.

So, maybe ten years of this annual reminder of workplace PTSD can be fucking done.

But not yet.

Target: 1000 words
Written: 242 words, comic: Western Cradle #4

Read: Tropic Of Kansas, Christopher Brown
Comics: Preacher 41-44
Music: I Fought The Law, Green Day

happy fuckin’ new year

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I can’t complain. We had a good time last night. I stayed sober enough to drive, which was fun.

We played the Game of Death, which is always a good time. Nobody got radiAIDS this time, so I suppose that was a win.

(RadiAIDS = AIDS + radiation poisoning. I mean, come on. You have to laugh.)

I feel like I need to go into full retreat now that the holidays are ended.

New Year’s resolution? Sell a book, write a book.

Keep on keepin’ on.

Do better today than yesterday. Start cutting out the toxic bullshit.

No more evil in my life, by my action or another’s, sanctioned by my silence.

Write. Write more. Read. Read more.

Fuck. Fuck more.

Lose some goddamned weight.

You know, the usual.

Target: 1000 words
Written: 263 words, comic: Western Cradle #1

Read: The Autobiography Of Malcolm X, Malcolm X (like it would be written by anyone else)
Comics: Preacher 5-8
Music: Nothing's Shocking, Jane's Addiction (what an album)