vacation from the vacation

Such a long, delayed flight, we didn’t get back and to bed until after 2PM. I am dying.

Too much walking. Too much heat.

Too many people for my introvert heart.

I am turning inside and finding only discomfort, tightness and pain.

Would that I could stand sensory deprivation, but claustrophobia’s a real bitch.

Target: 700 words
Written: 854 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: Through The Looking Glass, Lewis Carroll
Comics: Saga 5-8
Music: Other Worlds, Screaming Trees

flatiron to times square

We did that walk. Down Broadway. In ninety degree heat.

On the plus side, I got a good deal on good shirts and shorts from an Aeropostale outlet.

Also, of fashion in New York. I’m not sure who convinced women that the new trend should skin-tight and throw away those bras, but hell, good job, Illuminati or Obama or whoever we have to thank for that.

I know, I know.

Dirty old man, it’s horrible. I’m horrible.

I should be spayed and neutered already, and I would be, if it wasn’t for this damn sex drive. I’ll get you next time, meddling sex drive.

I think it’s official; I’ve got heat delusion. Goodbye, Central Park Zoo. I love your red panda and your penguins, but you should really let them all go home.

Target: 700 words
Written: 456 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: Assholes Finish First, Tucker Max (this shit is colouring my views, thank heaven it's done)
Comics: Saga 1-4 (HOLY SHIT)
Music: I Don't Give A Fuck About You, Pearl Jam

i think i might be dying

Scratch that. I know I am.

We all are.

But I think it might be more serious than that.

I haven’t slept properly in weeks, if not months. I get lightheaded regularly. Every joint hurts. I have frequent headaches.

Something is always sitting wrong in my stomach.

I think it’s weight, but I can’t lose anything, even when I’m properly dieting.

I feel like a few days’ sleep would do wonders for me.

What I wouldn’t give for a week long coma.

Target: 700 words
Written: 136 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: The Desire Map, Danielle Laporte
Comics: Danger Girl: Viva Las Danger 1, Danger Girl: Delusions Of Grandeur 1, Batman/Danger Girl 1, Danger Girl: Back In Black 1
Music: One Love, The Prodigy

bite sizes

I know it probably looks like I’ve completely checked out on writing, but I’m just in a lull.

My overall total of written words and time spent on The Mungk still exceeds its target by about twenty thousand words, so if I take a few days to regroup before the draft, I have the leeway. It’s one of the reasons why I keep a daily target and a total target.

That way, if there’s days where things go off the rails and the demands on my team leave me with barely time to take a piss, let alone crank out a few hundred words, I have the room.

And this past week?

I’m near to bursting from holding it.

This can’t be healthy.

Target: 700 words
Written: 54 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: Hans Christian Anderson's Fairy Tales
Comics: Danger Girl 0-3
Music: One Foot In The Grave, Beck

all i’m saying

Is when you’re talking about suicide, depression and mental health around others, be aware that there may be sufferers nearby for whom your demonization or minimization of their struggle impacts negatively, reinforcing the very stereotypes about themselves that may be keeping in this state of diminished being.

Your words could spiral someone who was teetering, and you might not even know it.

Leave the place better than you found it. That’s all I’m saying.

And for Pete’s sake, if your only contribution to empathy is a social media post or bluster to friends, just stop pretending you give a shit, so everybody can know what an asshole you are, and not just those attuned to recognize hypocrisy and bullshit.

(Also, who’s Pete? Why are we doing things for Pete’s sake? Is Pete depressed? Should we be worried about Pete?)

Target: 700 words
Written: 41 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: Hans Christian Anderson's Fairy Tales (so.  goddamned.  long.)
Comics: American Vampire Second Cycle 11, American Vampire Anthology 2, American Vampire 1976 1-2
Music: One By One, Foo Fighters (the last great rock band - unless you count Jack White, which I don't after the White Stripes ended)

empathy-less

A guy we don’t know through some people we don’t know through some people we do know killed himself recently.

I’m sure it’s not that uncommon; I suspect many unexpected deaths that they don’t list causes for in the newspaper are suicide-based, more than we care to admit.

What bothers me is the response.

The condemnation of this fellow is unanimous – what an asshole for leaving his wife and children, and in his own home!

This, from people who will advocate for nearly anyone who has a “disorder”, as long as they don’t know them personally. The homeless are just broken. Oh, you can’t hold them responsible for that. They have anxiety, and get this, DEPRESSION.

And yet, the condemnation of this poor fellow is ASSHOLE, LOSER, IDIOT, MONSTER.

I don’t know anything about the situation that led to all this, so I don’t know the man’s motivations or the attitudes and behaviours of those in his life, but I suspect if he was willing to go that far, his thoughts about himself probably ran much the same.

ASSHOLE, LOSER, IDIOT, MONSTER.

And as someone who has lived with depression since I was twelve and thought about snuffing it more times than I can count, I can tell you that someone showing a little empathy, some care and concern, could very well have turned it around.

My go-to is “this too shall pass”, which reminds me when I’m feeling like that just to keep moving and the situation will change. Sometimes, that takes days. Sometimes, it just needs one other person to say something nice, or to engage you in something that takes your mind off of it.

Writing helps. Better out than in.

I don’t know anything, again, and the man or his wife, his kids, his job, whatever. Maybe he just found out he had stage 4 cancer and didn’t want to put his family through that. Maybe he was into some shady shit and his whole world was about to blow apart. His reasons might be entirely different from my own.

I don’t know if she was supportive and he was suffering psychological issues beyond what she could deal with, but from the sound of it, it was fairly unexpected, so who knows?

Either way, I think some empathy is due. He felt enough pain to make the one choice that truly abdicates one’s responsibility toward this life in which we live. That, in itself, should trigger questions as to why, not condemnations. That solves nothing, and for the other people in your life that may suffer in depression, and may be thinking of self-harm, it sends a clear message – what a worthless, idiotic, monstrous asshole you would be for committing such an act, and by extension, even considering it (which we sufferers inevitably do).

I can guarantee, because I had the fucking thought, the reaction there from those who are still suffering, was “they don’t understand the pain”, followed by guilt and a further spiral of anger, because again, the world proves it does not care about you, that it devalues you, that you are a worthless, idiotic, asshole loser and now, yes, a MONSTER.

Of course, these same people show empathy when all it requires is meaningless words to people not involved or a post on social media, but when it comes to supporting or sympathizing with someone in reality?

That’s how you know these people are more interested in status and reputation and not in empathy or helping those who suffer.

So, sorry, guy I didn’t know. You were suffering to the point where you felt leaving this life was the only reasonable choice. You didn’t have (or didn’t know you had) people around you who would support you, who would help you and you made the ultimate choice.

And while we can debate endlessly the nature of the act – cowardice and irresponsibility versus relief and the end of suffering – we can spare a minute to think of the pain of those left behind and the departed.

He made a bad choice, driven by bad feelings, caught in the tunnel vision of despair, in which one sees no options and none are presented.

Perhaps if someone had taken the time to pay attention, and provide an option or a shoulder to cry on, instead of ASSHOLE, LOSER, IDIOT, MONSTER, he might not be gone at all.

Target: 700 words
Written: 63 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: Hans Christian Anderson's Fairy Tales
Comics: American Vampire: Second Cycle 7-10
Music: The One, Foo Fighters

responsibility

I think I’m sick of the lack of responsibility and accountability in this world. From millenials and Gen Z blaming all their woes on whatever psychological issue that they have or fucking Trumpers assuming they can commit literal crime (up to and including fascism or hate crimes) with no pushback, I’ve just had it.

Take some fucking responsibility, goddamnit.

If you really want freedom, you have to understand, that the more freedom, the more responsibility. The more responsible you are for your own behaviour.

You don’t get a pass because you’re white, straight or male.

You don’t get a pass because you have generalized anxiety disorder.

I’m all those things and I feel responsible for everything. I know my choices are my own. I know my depression is just a thing I deal with, not the thing that runs my life.

I make my own choices.

Are they always good? Nope, but that’s the point. You fucking learn from the bad ones.

You are not hopeless. You are not powerless.

You are not able to do whatever you want without consequence.

These things are true.

So suck it the fuck up, take your lumps, and BE. BETTER.

Target: 600 words
Written: 123 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: Hans Christian Anderson's Fairy Tales
Comics: American Vampire: Second Cycle 3-6
Music: One, The Beatles

derailed

I hate in-office. There’s so much extra (unnecessary) shit to do. And there are things that you have to be in the office for, but honestly, so much of it could be automated, or done by the group that is in office all the time, and with what they’ve assigned me this week, there is absolutely zero reason for me to be there.

It’s just so goddamned unnecessary – a time suck, a morale suck, a tension raiser because I don’t like being around all those people (I’m not a crowd guy). I work less efficiently, it raises my stress levels and the extra time I need in the morning, afternoon and lunch to travel, get lunches, get things ready for dogs, cats and whoever, the whole fucking week just becomes a drag, literally, slowing down any momentum I might have had with the extra time and energy I have from a work-at-home week.

Any why? Because they want federal employees to stimulate the economy by spending money on gas?

Polluting the fucking planet when we don’t actually need to?

It’s so goddamned irresponsible, fiscally and morally, and as human beings.

Ridiculous.

Target: 600 words
Written: 60 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: Hans Christian Anderson's Fairy Tales
Comics: American Vampire: The Long Road To Hell, American Vampire Anthology 1, American Vampire: Second Cycle 1-2
Music: Once Upon A Time, Simple Minds

not quite three

Man, this kid.

Also, I’m simultaneously way out of shape and still surprised that I can scamper up a giant play zone to help lift up to higher heights or rip down slides as much as I did.

I did realize my claustrophobia is starting to get worse.

Some of those tunnels were way too tight.

Also, I couldn’t help but think about Wytches and kid farts and matches blowing the Jones family onto the wall.

Birthdays are weird.

Target: 600 words
Written: 185 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: A New Earth, Eckhart Tolle
Comics: American Vampire 9-12
Music: Oingo Boingo Essentials, Oingo Boingo

game 7, for reals

Today’s the day. Are we going to break the curse of the Boston strangler, or are going to Leaf it up in the Leafiest way we possibly can?

I don’t believe in curses, but I do believe in complacent cultures that think they don’t need to try as hard because they’re making money hand over fist.

I do believe in overwhelming personalities who don’t give a shit about that culture and drag everyone else along with them toward some grand dream.

One of these two teams has that. Tonight, we’ll find out who, and whether the NHL decides to screw them anyway.

Target: 600 words
Written: 60 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: Carrie, Stephen King
Comics: Universe 1-4
Music: Ocean Mist, Sublime