Category: health

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: Night Crawlers, White Zombie

my annual dose of ptsd

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It’s 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: Nico, Blind Melon (talk about sexy)

every inch

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Some days, it feels like a war of attrition (and we’re not talking about the cold now).

It’s just a fight, a relentless fight, one moment after the next, bloodied, beaten, without rest, without help, without anything to get us through but pure fucking grit and the sense that goddamnit, we’re gonna get there if we die trying.

This notion that life should be a dream, a dance through the tulips, it’s poison. It’s ephemeral opiate, a smoky high that keeps us from seeing what’s going on.

But the fight keeps us focused, no matter how many cuts and bruises, how many broken bones, no matter that our hearts are in tatters and we know we’ve gone far, far from the ideal person we intended to be at the start.

All that matters is the result.

And ain’t that a hell of a way to live?

Target: 1000 words
Written: 484 words, comic: Western Cradle #3

Read: Me Talk Pretty One Day, David Sedaris
Comics: Preacher 37-40
Music: Nice Guys Finish Last, Green Day (ain't that the fuckin' case)

fighting back

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Well, mostly. I’m holding my own, but also partially drowning in phlegm and mucus.

This may be the birth of the Anti-Cold.

It’s like the Anti-Monitor, but against all things cough and snot related.

Snot robbed my mother, and I must avenge her! Mucus kicked my dog! Phlegm killed my Uncle Ben!

Can cough medicine make one delirious? Asking for a friend.

Target: 1000 words
Written: 2217 words, comic: Western Cradle #3

Read: Me Talk Pretty One Day, David Sedaris
Comics: Preacher 31-33, Preacher: Cassidy - Blood & Whiskey 1
Music: Next Year, Foo Fighters

nope

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Coughing should not involve chewing.

Yeah, we’re going full manbaby.

Target: 1000 words
Written: 320 words, comic: Western Cradle #3

Read: The Autobiography Of Malcolm X, Malcolm X/Alex Haley
Comics: Preacher 28-30, Preacher: The Good Old Boys 1
Music: The Next Day, David Bowie

something inside me

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This cold is something else.

It’s got my blood pressure up so high I can feel it. It’s a terrifying prospect to know that something as simple blowing your nose could cause an embolism.

I’m coughing so hard that it’s giving me a chronic migraine and each cough comes with a growing terror that I might stroke out or have an aneurysm.

Fuck me.

I’m starting to think this might not be a cold.

Target: 1000 words
Written: 226 words, comic: Western Cradle 3

Read: The Autobiography Of Malcolm X, Haley/X
Comics: Preacher 24-27
Music: New York State Of Mind (Mixed by DJ Green Lantern), Beastie Boys

coughin’ so hard it hurts

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Literally. I’ve coughed so deep today that it just about gave me a migraine, or what I thought was the start of a migraine, but after checking my blood pressure, it might be a stroke or an aneurysm.

Fuck.

Can’t catch a break.

Fuckin’ cold.

Target: 1000 words
Written: 464 words, comic: Western Cradle #2

Read: The Autobiography Of Malcolm X, X/Haley
Comics: Preacher: The Story Of You-Know-Who (Arseface!) #1, Preacher 21-23
Music: New York Dolls, New York Dolls (FUCKING NEW YORK DOLLS)

something that looks like escargot

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That’s what I’m coughing up now.

(Thanks, Phil Hartman)

Coughing non-stop; I’m hoping it’s the last gasps of this cold trying to cough itself out of my system; I fear it’s mutating into a chest infection.

Would that I had a doctor I could see; that our current health care situation is so fucked can only be the result of the typical Conservative “break everything, then use that as a sign everything is broken” policy of social services.

Assholes.

Target: 1000 words
Written: 746 words, comic: Western Cradle #2

Read: The Autobiography Of Malcolm X, Malcolm X
Comics: Preacher: Saint Of Killers 3-4, Preacher 19-20
Music: New York City Groove, Various Artists (but mostly for the Tom Waits)

slept in

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Until EIGHT. In the AM!

Crazy, right?

I haven’t had more than about six or seven hours of sleep in months, without being ill.

Of course, I’m ill today, but fuck it. I am using this downtime to push forward hard on the things that I love – writing, reading, comics, with a side of meditation, exercise, cooking and music.

That’s pretty much the sum total, although I think travel, sex, video games, and various other sundry storytelling mediums also play a part.

What else could you possibly need? A greater purpose? People who love you? Righteous vengeance?

I don’t know, but I’m feeling better, anyway.

Still sick, but hell if I couldn’t use eight to ten hours every night.

Target: 1000 words
Written: 2575 words, comic: Western Cradle #2

Read: The Autobiography Of Malcolm X, Malcolm X/Alex Haley
Comics: Preacher: Saint Of Killers 1-2, Preacher 17-18
Music: New York, Lou Reed

cold

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Not physically.

The mucus kind.

It hasn’t been great. I’m trying not be a manbaby about it, but it’s hard. Grit and determination, man. No need to pull the wuss card yet.

Save it for when you’ve got a real disease.

Target: 1000 words
Written: 312 words, comic: Western Cradle #2

Read: The Autobiography Of Malcolm X, Haley/X
Comics: Preacher 13-16
Music: New Wave B-Sides, Against Me!