Category: personal

we are all going to die

Posted on by admin

I mean, probably. Well, definitely. The question is really when and how.

Is it when Trump starts the end of the world? Is it a pandemic exploding through us because morons think vaccinations are somehow worse than the disease they’re designed to protect against?

Is it climate change?

When I write, I’ve often dreamed of it as being read still hundreds of years hence (I imagine that’s true of many artists). At this point though, hurtling toward climate collapse at least, I’d be happy if we still had books at all in twenty years. Or if anyone was around to read them.

Maybe someday, aliens will settle our barren, self-destroyed plant, and find our written missives and using supercomputers we haven’t dreamed of, translate them and think, Jesus, what a bunch of fucking assholes.

And they blew it all up.

Damn, dirty apes.

(A story, as told by a fatalist, using cultural references aliens probably won’t get, because I don’t think we ever beamed Charlton Heston to space. We are the monkeys, man! The monkeys are us!)

Target: 1400 words
Written: 1071 words, novel: Bad Neighbours

Read: Tesla: Man Out Of Time, Margaret Cheney
Comics: Fables 40-43
Music: The White Stripes, The White Stripes

snowin’

Posted on by admin

And blowin’. Ninety km/hr winds.

My glasses froze to my face and gave me a wicked headache.

Damn, sun. Rude.

Target: 1400 words
Written: 586 words, novel: Bad Neighbours

Read: Tesla: Man Out Of Time, Margaret Cheney
Comics: Fables 36-39
Music: A White Sport Coat And A Pink Crustacean, Jimmy Buffett

final stretch

Posted on by admin

I’m aiming for a Christmas deadline (preferably before, because Christmas and Christmas Eve are fucking no gos for any amount of editing), but man, how many different way can one describe a mangled dog corpse?

It feels like one’s too many.

Doesn’t it?

Target: 1400 words
Written: 1585 words, novel: Bad Neighbours

Read: Complete Poetical Works, Edgar Allan Poe (Raven and Conqueror Worm are still great, but man, I wanted the rest to be so much better)
Comics: Fables 32-35
Music: White Light, White Heat, White Trash, Social Distortion

and then dinner

Posted on by admin

Quite a weekend. Chili, the most basic kind (well, one step above, a return to roots, sort of, though neither of those recipes are my mother’s, which is the base for all my major chilis).

Breadsticks.

Green bean casserole.

Weird combo, but hey, gotta eat something, am I right?

Target: 1400 words
Written: 456 words, novel: Bad Neighbours

Read: Complete Poetical Works, Edgar Allan Poe
Comics: Fables 28-31
Music: White Light/White Heat, The Velvet Underground

night market

Posted on by admin

A thoroughly enjoyable evening, after last night’s thoroughly enjoyable oyster bar.

Followed tomorrow, probably, by thoroughly enjoyable heartburn.

My scale is crying.

Why would a man eat an entire buffalo chicken and blue cheese pizza to himself?

What could possess him?

Devil’s work, if you ask me.

But don’t. The shame won’t allow me to answer.

Target: 1400 words
Written: 3020 words, novel: Bad Neighbours

Read: Complete Poetical Works, Edgar Allan Poe
Comics: Fables 24-27
Music: White Crosses, Against Me! (one of the best)

the rundown

Posted on by admin

Multiple meanings for that these days, as you’ll eventually see.

If there’s ever a movie written of my life, it’s going to be a lot of stuttering and masturbation, followed by a slow, tortuous breakdown in front of a computer.

I know it was a shittier time, but past generations had such grand adventures; our life is so regimented now.

You must do this. You must do that.

There’s no time for peace. No time for quiet.

Where’s my goddamned quiet at?

No, I run, and run, and run, it all just runs me down.

Target: 1400 words
Written: 1823 words, novel: Bad Neighbours

Read: Prozac Nation, Elizabeth Wurtzel (I was excited to read this, thinking I might comiserate, but this is far less a description of depression, but rather narcissism using depression as its party mask.  There's a point where she reaches true depression, I think, and there's a perfect description of it, which made me think, okay, finally, she understands, but then she magics it all away with a drug, and spends the rest of the book bemoaning the fact that she did it before it was cool, like some pretentious alt-rock kid pissed off the little indie band they liked signed a deal with a major label.  This book?  Five percent depression, the rest about as real as the proverbial cut my wrist width-wise instead of lengthwise cry for attention.  Disappointing.)
Comics: Fables 20-23
Music: White Chalk, PJ Harvey

still crashing out

Posted on by admin

I know this is because I’ve got myself under a ton of pressure to finish this book before Christmas.

Literally. I’ve set the date as December 23rd.

Finished by that date, so I can sit back with a cigar and a whiskey and fucking kick some goddamned ass.

Then to lighten things up for a bit with some poetry, more short stories and comics, maybe a hip little ditty or three.

Then, maybe, by the time March rolls around, I’ll be ready for canon project #3.

And maybe I’ll head back to historical.

Paranormal.

Lovecraft country, baby. I am the man of a thousand ideas; and a thousand more I will never have time to complete.

Target: 1400 words
Written: 1483 words, novel: Bad Neighbours

Read: Prozac Nation, Elizabeth Wurtzel
Comics: Fables 16-19
Music: White Blood Cells, The White Stripes

i’m about to have a nervous breakdown

Posted on by admin

Sung in the key of Keith Morris.

That’s where I’m at. I kill myself, all day, starting at 4:50AM (yes, IN THE GODDAMN MORNING), bust ass getting ready, taking care of dogs and cats, work my ass off for 8 hours, come home, walk dogs, make dinner, and by the time I’m all done, it’s 6:30, 7 o’clock at night.

Fourteen straight hours of hard go, every day, and what do I get for it? Slippery tongs that send the roast I made halfway across the fucking kitchen to land in a pile of dog fur.

Grilled cheese sandwiches it fucking is.

Fuck today, all the way off.

Target: 1400 words
Written: 1357 words, novel: Bad Neighbours

Read: Prozac Nation, Elizabeth Wurtzel
Comics: Fables 13-15, Fables: The Last Castle 1
Music: Whiskey On A Sunday, Flogging Molly (or every day)

hoping for better depression

Posted on by admin

So, I suffer from depression. I don’t take drugs for it. I don’t go to therapy. I’m sure that would probably help, but the drugs I’ve tried have always made me feel worse, rather than better, and well, who the fuck has the time and money for therapy?

The thing is, I refuse to let it define me. It can run me, and it’s a struggle and fight every single day. Some days are worse than others. But I will not be labelled as the guy with depression.

I see it a lot now, and perhaps it’s a generational thing, where people label themselves with whatever damage they’ve got, physical or otherwise, and then that becomes their identity. It’s not a bone that needs to heal; it’s a bone that needs to stay broken, because it’s who they are.

It defines them.

But we’re so much more than that. Melancholy (aka depression) was just a piece of Abraham Lincoln. One could hardly say it was the primary fact of this life.

It was only part of it.

The generations behind me (and I blame my own shoegazing generation for starting this shit) seem to think it’s the only definition of themselves that matters.

I have anxiety, therefore, I am anxiety.

I have ADHD, therefore all I am is a lack of focus.

Man, fuck that. Treat yourself, do the things you have to do to get better or at least, function better within the restrictions you’ve got, but shit – it ain’t you.

Depression is not an identity; it’s just a thing that happens.

Depression is not the core of your self; it’s a chemical imbalance, or the sum total of some disparate thoughts or shitty life events.

It is NOT you.

That’s important. Remember that. You are not your depression; you are you.

And you have control over that.

Target: 1400 words
Written: 1102 words, novel: Bad Neighbours

Read: Prozac Nation, Elizabeth Wurtzel
Comics: Fables 9-12
Music: Whip-Smart, Liz Phair

truth telling

Posted on by admin

I mean, I know we all think we know the truth, but the reality is that the truth is what it is and we are not always aware of all of the aspects of it. Multiple things can be true at any given time.

I have not lived an exemplary life. I’ve lied, I’ve cheated (my family and all my friends banned me from playing Monopoly) and probably worse, if I’m honest about it.

I am still not entirely honest with myself and the people around me, because I feel rejection. I have issues with insecurity and depression.

None of these things means I’m a horrible person by necessity, but neither do they make me an exemplary one.

Truth and perspective are the two things I chase most in my life, and as I get older and open myself up to that more, instead of living in safely comfortable fictions and denial, I find the truest thing I know is that truth and perspective are often not in accordance, but more of one inevitably creates more of the other.

Enough perspective and truth is revealed; how could it not be?

Truth knocks us out of our fictions, our blind spots; it provides perspective where none may have existed.

More truth. More perspectives. These are the only things that matter.

There is truth. There is perspective.

These things are not mutually exclusive. But one perspective, held without truth…

Well, there’s the rub, isn’t it?

Target: 1400 words
Written: 791 words, novel: Bad Neighbours

Read: Prozac Nation, Elizabeth Wurtzel
Comics: Fables 5-8
Music: While You Were Out, Soul Asylum