Category: health

tired

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I’m getting pretty tired at being woken up way too early by dogs, cats and work.

I love my pets (and my job less), but man, if I’ve gotten more than six hours of sleep in the last week in a night, I’d be surprised. Usually, it’s been four or five.

That’s not enough.

My health is in freefall.

I might have to take up napping, or go to bed way earlier.

I’m already going between 9:30 and 10.

Target: 700 words
Written: 615 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: Pawn Of Prophecy, David Eddings
Comics: Wildfire 3-4, Postal 1-2
Music: The Ultimate Collection, The Pogues (fuckin' Shane, eh?)

back to sick

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Motherfucker.

Diarrhea all night.

I’m thinking botulism. Maybe salmonella.

Or the dreaded E. Coli, scourge of my eldest cat, a few years before he died. Went on six months.

Or maybe it’s cancer. Or Crohn’s.

Or dumping syndrome, even though I have all my intestines.

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

Read: Just A Geek, Wil Wheaton
Comics: Saga 25-28
Music: Out My Way, Meat Puppets (much as I respect and love Kurt Cobain, I will never understand his love for these guys)

so out of it

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I think I might be sick.

Like really sick. Like liver failure or cancer sick.

The onset of diabetes or some aneurysm or stroke waiting to happen.

I don’t like it. I don’t know if it’s true.

I just want to be cold.

I want to sleep forever.

Target: 700 words
Written: 1136 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: Abraham Lincoln, Vampire Hunter
Comics: Saga 17-20
Music: Our Love To Admire, Interpol

storms and sofi

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The poor girl, she’s so nervous.

The first crack of thunder in the far distance and she’s losing her shit and I have to go sit downstairs on the couch with her until she settles enough to get one of her calming treats in her, and then, maybe, we can go back to bed, where she’ll shiver like a leaf in my arms until the drugs kick in and the lightning stops flashing and the thunder fades and she falls gently asleep, allowing me to do the same.

How’s that for a run-on?

What can I say?

I’m tired of not sleeping, but I love the little girl.

Target: 700 words
Written: 702 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: Abraham Lincoln, Vampire Hunter, Seth Grahame-Smith
Comics: Saga 13-16
Music: Our Lady Peace Essentials, Our Lady Peace

return to work

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Ugh.

I feel mostly like I need another three or four days (or forever – can someone just pay me to sit and write, or do nothing at all, drifting through life like some kind of modern age guru or witless Dude-like bum?)

Anyway, body sore, brain dead, somehow making this all function. Part of me is praying for heart failure.

Part of me is always praying for sudden death.

Target: 700 words
Written: 628 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: Abraham Lincoln, Vampire Hunter, Seth Grahame-Smith
Comics: Saga 9-12
Music: Otherside, Red Hot Chili Peppers

escape from new york

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Such a long, delayed flight, we didn’t get back and to bed until after 2AM. 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

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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, see-through and bra-less, 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

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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

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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 life 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

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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 has a negative impact, 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)