Tuesday, February 12, 2013
Monday, February 11, 2013
An uneasy confession
Attempt #34
Last Thursday morning I made myself a cocktail consisting of vodka, tequila and coke which I chased with ten hydrocodone and an ambien. I set out all the prepared notes and instructions. I set my MP3 player to the playlist of all my favorite songs. I then laid in my bed and waited. Nothing happened.
Several hours later I greeted my mother when she got home and made small talk about her day after making us each a cup of coffee. It was during my third sip when I was rocked with a wave of nausea so severe it sent me sprinting for the bathroom; barely making it to the toilet in time before vomiting a little into the toilet. I told her I wasn’t feeling well and excused myself to bed for the evening.
The next day I received a text from mom asking for the whereabouts of the missing pills and I told her the truth. After I assured her she didn’t have to send someone out to the house and would be there when she got home; she had me call my stepfather to tell him what I had done. It went better than I expected. Then, I spent the longest day in isolation yet as I awaited the conversation I knew was soon to come.
Mom came home early Friday afternoon and the first thing she said upon seeing me was,
“There’s a reason you got sick. It’s a sign from God that it’s not your time to go yet.”
I tried to assure her that not only had I not vomited enough to make an impact, but also my years of taking pills medicinally, recreationally as well as several similar attempts have given me a tolerance much greater than most. But we believe what we want.
Some of the topics covered in the ensuing conversation:
I broke a promise to her and she expressed her anger and disappointment.
She said she knows I just want to be loved and looking for it online was only proving detrimental, because it’s easy for women to feed me lines to rope me in before severing the ties and thus leaving me adrift.
The idea of me getting back on meds seemed stupid to me, since pills are my choice tool of self destruction they might as well prescribe me a loaded gun.
I don’t like myself much.
She thinks it’s selfish to want to leave everyone behind to pick up the pieces; while I maintained the selfish thing is to want someone to stick around when they’re suffering just to appease others.
It then just all dissolved to me crying my eyes out.
I still wasn’t feeling well from the abundance of opiates in my system and excused myself to bed before my stepdad got home. I woke up at ten to find a missed call from V and when I returned it we spoke for about a minute which was the most in about a week. I promptly passed out again.
I awoke at 5 am Saturday morning with a few select images from a particularly vivid and nasty dream seared into my brain; nightmares being a side effect of hydrocodone. I spent the next few hours hidden away in my room until my stepdad left for work, because I was still reticent to face him. After he left I came downstairs to smoke and have a cup of coffee with mom. She asked if I was feeling any better and I was honest. She said she needed to run some errands in a few hours and wanted me to go with her. I hid myself away again until it was time to go.
The first part of our drive was in relative silence until I mentioned how much I wished I had been able to go to school in California. She said she didn’t even know I had been accepted.
A side note: this is one of my biggest issues with people and my mother is particularly bad with this. I’ll tell them things about me and the information is rarely retained for more than a day. She should have known about what happened in regards to the school, but instead I had to tell the entire story to her for the fifth time. Also? I remember every personal story anyone has ever told me; I’m a sponge when it comes to pain and I’ve yet to find a way to successfully wring myself out.
She then told me about the opportunities she could have pursued a higher education had her father not hindered her.
After we picked up my stepdad’s dry cleaning we swung over to the Hallmark store in order to pick up a card for my sister’s birthday. There’s a Hasting’s next to it and she suggested I go in and look around while she picked out her items.
Right inside the entrance was a table at which sat a guy about my age, a few copies of his book placed before him, but no lines or patrons even remotely interested. I wanted to approach him; to talk about his book, what roads he took to get published and maybe try to make a general connection with a fellow writer, but I didn’t have any money to purchase his book and the sight of him sitting alone with his words hit far too close to home that the most I could manage was a pained smile as I slinked past.
I wandered the store aimlessly and could feel the anxiety build inside the deeper I got. I found and aisle filled with action figures and other types of memorabilia which I’d only previously seen pictures of online and felt a little better. Once I’d reached the end, however, the panic set in with a fury and I made my way to the exit as quickly as I could without making a scene and avoided eye contact.
I met back up with mom next door and she asked if I’d found anything I might have wanted. I told her I appreciated the gesture, but I was fine. We made our purchases and went to the Dollar store, the last stop of our journey. This store greeted us with a display of assorted Valentine’s Day gifts and I pondered which was more depressing; a dollar store Valentine or none at all. After some shopping we came to a rack filled with gift cards and she asked if I would like one for iTunes, which I graciously accepted.
Back in the car I told her I was going to download the rest of the chapters to The Walking Dead game, because I was dying to see where the story went. This led to me telling her about the differences between the show and comic before a dissection of comic book adaptations on general. I know she wasn’t interested, but we both enjoyed a car ride in which I talked openly.
It was a good moment and one on which I would like to end this story.
Tuesday, October 23, 2012
Screenshots from my site
Want something unique, groundbreaking and with true artistic merit? Check it
and yes
you actually get
to scroll through the pages.
One of the easter eggs
The Homepage
The Notebook
and yes
you actually get
to scroll through the pages.
One of the easter eggs
Thursday, October 18, 2012
How I came to fall for a jellyfish
Signal Fire-Snow Patrol
I was on tumblr for less than two weeks when I found her blog by searching tags for a word I still hate to say aloud. I read her story and was taken aback by the dignity, poise and utter fucking bravery with which she tackled the subject. I submitted a piece which spoke a little of my experience and she posted it shortly thereafter. She even wrote an extra P.S. which ended with, "just imagine I'm holding you real tight, yeah?"
I'm almost embarrassed to admit this, but instantly I was smitten.
I followed it along with her personal blog and every time her face graced my dashboard the infatuation dug in a little bit deeper. At the time I was wrapped up in an exceedingly unhealthy relationship, so I just creepily admired her from afar. Thankfully, before long it ended and almost immediately after I struck up another courtship which, while short lived, was nowhere near as tragic.
It was about this time I discovered she had started seeing a guy and, while I was happy for her, I couldn't help but fill a bitter sting of jealousy. A few months later I was perusing her blog only to discover it had ended with him. I'd wanted to try and contact her, offer some sort of commiseration, but I didn't think it seemed right. I barely knew her and didn't want to seem like I was just trying to capitalize on her vulnerability.
A few weeks ago things got bad for me and my blog was filled with morose pieces. It was during this time she sent a message asking if everything was alright. I was not in a very positive place, so I opted not to respond because I didn't want to bitch about my problems or let the girl I'd been crushing on for so long to see me at my worst. Soon after I was on a plane back for Texas in order to try and get myself right.
So it goes.
The next week and change was spent seeing family and dealing with this through intense writing sessions. Last Saturday after I'd gotten back from volunteering at the nursing home I sat down with my mic and recorded a piece I'd been planning for almost a year. Once it was posted I felt revitalized in a way only creating some truly worthwhile can bring. Bolstered by this sudden onset of confidence I decided to finally respond to her message. We talked longer than we had before, but tumblr's mail system is frustrating and took our conversation to gchat. I was up for over forty hours by the time we sent our hellos, but I'd have been damned if I was going to let something like sleep deprivation keep me from getting to know this lovely young woman.
The conversation came easy and went from light to more serious affairs. She told me about immigrating to the US as well as her childhood, all the while I hung on every word. I then went into details about my life I don't offer so readily through conversations. Then the amazing happened; she listened and understood. Toward the end things got flirtatious, but I tried to keep my cool and not take it too seriously. When we said goodnight I was left with a smile and sleep came easily.
After I awoke and waited the time necessary to not come off quite as anxious to talk to her as was the case; I signed on, said hello and conversation picked right back up where we left off. Over the next several hours we spoke about relationships, family, dreams, passion, religion and everything in between. I again showed more courage than I thought myself capable of and gave her my number.
She called it instantly.
The sound of her voice caused my breath to catch in my throat and I still haven't gotten it back. The conversation lasted eight hours and I was astonished by just how wonderful this woman is. She was patient and I spoke and always kept me laughing. I'd admitted to the long standing crush I'd had on her and in a surprising turn of events she reciprocated. Towards the end of the night the conversation took a turn towards the hot and heavy, but she stopped it so as to not rush things too much. I understood, told her as much and didn't bring it up again. It finally reached the point where she could no longer fight back the sleep which weighed heavy on her lids and had to retire. I layed in bed with my mind reeling with every word spoken between us and sleep did not call me as it did her.
It was before the sun rose when she called me and recanted the withdrawal she'd made the night before and the which passed her lips lit this fire within I'd thought had long been snuffed out. The breathiness of her vocables, mixed with the moans and the exuberance with which she came formed the sweetest symphony I'd ever heard.
The next several days were filled with more conversations, revelations and early morning passions. I've gotten to know her in more ways than I'd ever dreamed possible and I like everything I see. She's not perfect, but it's becoming apparent the flaws either mirror my own, or compliment them in some strange fashion. She claims she's a hot mess, I maintain she's only half right. I've spent my dating life trying to find what it is I was in a partner. At most they'd have two or three qualities and the negatives never outweighed them. She's different. All the important checks have been marked and the cons never even come close to making me look twice.
I can even pin point the exact moment where I fell into another four letter word which I know I shouldn't bring myself to say and it really doesn't matter, because it wouldn't convey the true depths of it anyway. It was during one of our late night phone sessions and I just sat in relative silence as she shared her writings with me. Then, one particularly heartbreaking one past through the headset and that was all it took. It also didn't hurt that the talent with which she told it made me feel like an amateur by comparison.
It's not, however, easy at times; what with the distance and no idea how to close it with the current situation in which I find myself. Sometimes after we hang up for the night I'll find myself riddled with the doubts which tell me there's no way someone so beautiful, amazing, funny, sweet and smart will ever find anything in me worth sticking it out for, but I'm tired of listening to that voice. I've learned by now it doesn't have my best intentions at heart.
And now I'm sitting here while talking with her on gchat. I'm not sure what the future is going to hold and at times this does make me feel uneasy. However, I'm tired of doubts holding me back from trying to go after things I want in this life. And I want to see where this takes me, no matter where the road may lead. I'm in.
So it goes.
Anything for you-Ludo
I was on tumblr for less than two weeks when I found her blog by searching tags for a word I still hate to say aloud. I read her story and was taken aback by the dignity, poise and utter fucking bravery with which she tackled the subject. I submitted a piece which spoke a little of my experience and she posted it shortly thereafter. She even wrote an extra P.S. which ended with, "just imagine I'm holding you real tight, yeah?"
I'm almost embarrassed to admit this, but instantly I was smitten.
I followed it along with her personal blog and every time her face graced my dashboard the infatuation dug in a little bit deeper. At the time I was wrapped up in an exceedingly unhealthy relationship, so I just creepily admired her from afar. Thankfully, before long it ended and almost immediately after I struck up another courtship which, while short lived, was nowhere near as tragic.
It was about this time I discovered she had started seeing a guy and, while I was happy for her, I couldn't help but fill a bitter sting of jealousy. A few months later I was perusing her blog only to discover it had ended with him. I'd wanted to try and contact her, offer some sort of commiseration, but I didn't think it seemed right. I barely knew her and didn't want to seem like I was just trying to capitalize on her vulnerability.
A few weeks ago things got bad for me and my blog was filled with morose pieces. It was during this time she sent a message asking if everything was alright. I was not in a very positive place, so I opted not to respond because I didn't want to bitch about my problems or let the girl I'd been crushing on for so long to see me at my worst. Soon after I was on a plane back for Texas in order to try and get myself right.
So it goes.
The next week and change was spent seeing family and dealing with this through intense writing sessions. Last Saturday after I'd gotten back from volunteering at the nursing home I sat down with my mic and recorded a piece I'd been planning for almost a year. Once it was posted I felt revitalized in a way only creating some truly worthwhile can bring. Bolstered by this sudden onset of confidence I decided to finally respond to her message. We talked longer than we had before, but tumblr's mail system is frustrating and took our conversation to gchat. I was up for over forty hours by the time we sent our hellos, but I'd have been damned if I was going to let something like sleep deprivation keep me from getting to know this lovely young woman.
The conversation came easy and went from light to more serious affairs. She told me about immigrating to the US as well as her childhood, all the while I hung on every word. I then went into details about my life I don't offer so readily through conversations. Then the amazing happened; she listened and understood. Toward the end things got flirtatious, but I tried to keep my cool and not take it too seriously. When we said goodnight I was left with a smile and sleep came easily.
After I awoke and waited the time necessary to not come off quite as anxious to talk to her as was the case; I signed on, said hello and conversation picked right back up where we left off. Over the next several hours we spoke about relationships, family, dreams, passion, religion and everything in between. I again showed more courage than I thought myself capable of and gave her my number.
She called it instantly.
The sound of her voice caused my breath to catch in my throat and I still haven't gotten it back. The conversation lasted eight hours and I was astonished by just how wonderful this woman is. She was patient and I spoke and always kept me laughing. I'd admitted to the long standing crush I'd had on her and in a surprising turn of events she reciprocated. Towards the end of the night the conversation took a turn towards the hot and heavy, but she stopped it so as to not rush things too much. I understood, told her as much and didn't bring it up again. It finally reached the point where she could no longer fight back the sleep which weighed heavy on her lids and had to retire. I layed in bed with my mind reeling with every word spoken between us and sleep did not call me as it did her.
It was before the sun rose when she called me and recanted the withdrawal she'd made the night before and the which passed her lips lit this fire within I'd thought had long been snuffed out. The breathiness of her vocables, mixed with the moans and the exuberance with which she came formed the sweetest symphony I'd ever heard.
The next several days were filled with more conversations, revelations and early morning passions. I've gotten to know her in more ways than I'd ever dreamed possible and I like everything I see. She's not perfect, but it's becoming apparent the flaws either mirror my own, or compliment them in some strange fashion. She claims she's a hot mess, I maintain she's only half right. I've spent my dating life trying to find what it is I was in a partner. At most they'd have two or three qualities and the negatives never outweighed them. She's different. All the important checks have been marked and the cons never even come close to making me look twice.
I can even pin point the exact moment where I fell into another four letter word which I know I shouldn't bring myself to say and it really doesn't matter, because it wouldn't convey the true depths of it anyway. It was during one of our late night phone sessions and I just sat in relative silence as she shared her writings with me. Then, one particularly heartbreaking one past through the headset and that was all it took. It also didn't hurt that the talent with which she told it made me feel like an amateur by comparison.
It's not, however, easy at times; what with the distance and no idea how to close it with the current situation in which I find myself. Sometimes after we hang up for the night I'll find myself riddled with the doubts which tell me there's no way someone so beautiful, amazing, funny, sweet and smart will ever find anything in me worth sticking it out for, but I'm tired of listening to that voice. I've learned by now it doesn't have my best intentions at heart.
And now I'm sitting here while talking with her on gchat. I'm not sure what the future is going to hold and at times this does make me feel uneasy. However, I'm tired of doubts holding me back from trying to go after things I want in this life. And I want to see where this takes me, no matter where the road may lead. I'm in.
So it goes.
Anything for you-Ludo
Carry the stone
I enter the bar and uncerimoniuosly take my usual booth. To call this place a dive would suggest it had some sort of charm which keeps bringing me here day after day. It doesn’t.
The tables are all coated so thick with grease that if you were to run your finger across their surface you’d pull it back black. It’s been decades since the windows had glass in their frames. They’re boarded up so tight that, even though it’s just before noon, they let in no sunlight. The other patrons plant themselves in stools held together with duct tape and a prayer. When they do get up and move around the air is so thick with dust and smoke it’s more akin to walking through mud than an open room. The jukebox is broken and only plays Hey You by Pink Floyd, but no one ever has the energy to walk over and unplug the damn thing.
Yes, there are other places for us to go; ones filled with celebrations, laughter and long anticipated reunions. Sometimes a particular crowd will get so loud their jovial songs are able to permeate these molding walls. But, no, those aren’t the types of environments for people like me. You could say it’s this bar’s utter desolation which beckons me.
After a few minutes the waitress walks over, sets my drink before me and slinks away without a word. I chug it down with purpose and return it to the table empty. I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and look at my fellow patrons. Occasionally you’ll have a guy or one of the more adventurous parties pop in for awhile, but it doesn’t take them long to realize they don’t belong here; not like us regulars. We’re all of us looking for something. You can tell by our constant glances at the door; searching for an arrival which never shows. For as long as I’ve been coming here none of us have uttered a single word; more content to try and drown away our demons in silence.
The waitress brings my second round and, as always, I try with futility to get drunk. The drinks must be more water than ale, because every day I hammer them back from open to close and never achieve so much as a buzz. But I keep trying, because anymore it’s all I know how to do.
Hours pass, though time really is just as meaningless as the alcohol I consume. One of the gentleman at the bar begins to wail loudly and I busy myself with my newly filled glass. The bell above the entrance chimes and after forty long years my wait is over.
There she is standing in the doorway.
Her eyes scan the crowd and when they meet mine she gasps with enough force to cause the dust to dance around her. Her smile causes my eyes to leak and, suddenly, she’s sitting across from me.
“I…” her voice breaks. She looks away and takes a deep breath and begins chewing on her thumbnail. After several moments she clasps her hands on the table in front of her and returns her gaze to me before trying again. “I was hoping I might find you here.”
“Yeah…I figured I’d have ended up in the really bad one too.” She nods and blinks away a tear. “My God, you’re so beautiful.” is the only thing I can bring myself to say.
“Really? I’d asked them to make me look like you’d remember.” She says through the sheepish smile which makes me melt every time.
“Not that I’m not ecstatic to see you, but why are you here?” I ask.
“Isn’t it obvious? I was looking for you.”
“But why? I figured you moved on a long time ago.”
“I got married. Had two kids.” I’m unable to hide a pained expression at the last revelation. “I lived a long life, though that wasn’t something one can simply move on from.”
I nod before saying, “Tell me about your kids.”
“They’re wonderful.” She beams. “A boy and a girl. He became a pharmicist and she teaches fifth grade. They even blessed me with the most amazing grandchildren.”
“And your husband? Did he treat you right?”
“Yes. He was a good, kind man. We were happy.”
“That’s great.” I tell her with as much sincerity as I can muster. “I’m so very happy for you.” Then I look down at my hands. She reaches over and takes them in hers. After a beat she turns them over so my palms face the ceiling and begins to stroke my wrists. “I’m so sorry.” This is when I break.
“Shh…, it’s okay, baby.” She tells me as she places her right hand under my chin and lifts it until my eyes meet hers. She swallows hard before saying, “I was upset with you for a long time. Then I was just so angry.”
“I understand.” I tell her and try to look away, but she grabs me and pulls me back.
“You owe me this.”
I nod and don’t avert my eyes again.
“I know now it didn’t have anything to do with me, but it fucked me up for a long time. No matter who I was with, even my husband, I still thought about you and wondered ‘what if’. We never even got a chance and I felt cheated. I couldn’t believe you just…” This time it’s her eyes which wander and they stop at the open wounds running up my wrists.
I get up and sit down in the booth beside her. For the first time ever I take her in my arms and hold her tight. We weep together until neither of us have any tears left.
“How did you…” I start to ask as I hand her a napkin.
“Cancer.” She takes it and wipes her eyes. “I battled it for two years until one night I went to sleep and was just gone.”
“I’m glad it was peaceful and you’re not hurting anymore.” I tell her.
“You’re still the same.” She says as she touches my cheek another time. “I came here to tell you two things. One: I forgive you.” She leans in and presses her lips against mine, filling my body with a warmth I’ve been lacking since I first came to this place. She breaks the kiss and leans in closer until she’s right against my ear and whispers, “Two: I’ve got a room nearby and we have so much catching up to do.”
We don’t say another word as we exit the booth and make our way to the exit. As I open the door and hold it for her I notice the cuts which once marred my wrists and forearms have vanished without so much as a scar. Before I cross the threshold I glance back at the regulars. I hope some day soon this door opens for them to find their angel which will lead them out of the Purgatorio and grant them peace.
The tables are all coated so thick with grease that if you were to run your finger across their surface you’d pull it back black. It’s been decades since the windows had glass in their frames. They’re boarded up so tight that, even though it’s just before noon, they let in no sunlight. The other patrons plant themselves in stools held together with duct tape and a prayer. When they do get up and move around the air is so thick with dust and smoke it’s more akin to walking through mud than an open room. The jukebox is broken and only plays Hey You by Pink Floyd, but no one ever has the energy to walk over and unplug the damn thing.
Yes, there are other places for us to go; ones filled with celebrations, laughter and long anticipated reunions. Sometimes a particular crowd will get so loud their jovial songs are able to permeate these molding walls. But, no, those aren’t the types of environments for people like me. You could say it’s this bar’s utter desolation which beckons me.
After a few minutes the waitress walks over, sets my drink before me and slinks away without a word. I chug it down with purpose and return it to the table empty. I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and look at my fellow patrons. Occasionally you’ll have a guy or one of the more adventurous parties pop in for awhile, but it doesn’t take them long to realize they don’t belong here; not like us regulars. We’re all of us looking for something. You can tell by our constant glances at the door; searching for an arrival which never shows. For as long as I’ve been coming here none of us have uttered a single word; more content to try and drown away our demons in silence.
The waitress brings my second round and, as always, I try with futility to get drunk. The drinks must be more water than ale, because every day I hammer them back from open to close and never achieve so much as a buzz. But I keep trying, because anymore it’s all I know how to do.
Hours pass, though time really is just as meaningless as the alcohol I consume. One of the gentleman at the bar begins to wail loudly and I busy myself with my newly filled glass. The bell above the entrance chimes and after forty long years my wait is over.
There she is standing in the doorway.
Her eyes scan the crowd and when they meet mine she gasps with enough force to cause the dust to dance around her. Her smile causes my eyes to leak and, suddenly, she’s sitting across from me.
“I…” her voice breaks. She looks away and takes a deep breath and begins chewing on her thumbnail. After several moments she clasps her hands on the table in front of her and returns her gaze to me before trying again. “I was hoping I might find you here.”
“Yeah…I figured I’d have ended up in the really bad one too.” She nods and blinks away a tear. “My God, you’re so beautiful.” is the only thing I can bring myself to say.
“Really? I’d asked them to make me look like you’d remember.” She says through the sheepish smile which makes me melt every time.
“Not that I’m not ecstatic to see you, but why are you here?” I ask.
“Isn’t it obvious? I was looking for you.”
“But why? I figured you moved on a long time ago.”
“I got married. Had two kids.” I’m unable to hide a pained expression at the last revelation. “I lived a long life, though that wasn’t something one can simply move on from.”
I nod before saying, “Tell me about your kids.”
“They’re wonderful.” She beams. “A boy and a girl. He became a pharmicist and she teaches fifth grade. They even blessed me with the most amazing grandchildren.”
“And your husband? Did he treat you right?”
“Yes. He was a good, kind man. We were happy.”
“That’s great.” I tell her with as much sincerity as I can muster. “I’m so very happy for you.” Then I look down at my hands. She reaches over and takes them in hers. After a beat she turns them over so my palms face the ceiling and begins to stroke my wrists. “I’m so sorry.” This is when I break.
“Shh…, it’s okay, baby.” She tells me as she places her right hand under my chin and lifts it until my eyes meet hers. She swallows hard before saying, “I was upset with you for a long time. Then I was just so angry.”
“I understand.” I tell her and try to look away, but she grabs me and pulls me back.
“You owe me this.”
I nod and don’t avert my eyes again.
“I know now it didn’t have anything to do with me, but it fucked me up for a long time. No matter who I was with, even my husband, I still thought about you and wondered ‘what if’. We never even got a chance and I felt cheated. I couldn’t believe you just…” This time it’s her eyes which wander and they stop at the open wounds running up my wrists.
I get up and sit down in the booth beside her. For the first time ever I take her in my arms and hold her tight. We weep together until neither of us have any tears left.
“How did you…” I start to ask as I hand her a napkin.
“Cancer.” She takes it and wipes her eyes. “I battled it for two years until one night I went to sleep and was just gone.”
“I’m glad it was peaceful and you’re not hurting anymore.” I tell her.
“You’re still the same.” She says as she touches my cheek another time. “I came here to tell you two things. One: I forgive you.” She leans in and presses her lips against mine, filling my body with a warmth I’ve been lacking since I first came to this place. She breaks the kiss and leans in closer until she’s right against my ear and whispers, “Two: I’ve got a room nearby and we have so much catching up to do.”
We don’t say another word as we exit the booth and make our way to the exit. As I open the door and hold it for her I notice the cuts which once marred my wrists and forearms have vanished without so much as a scar. Before I cross the threshold I glance back at the regulars. I hope some day soon this door opens for them to find their angel which will lead them out of the Purgatorio and grant them peace.
Monday, October 15, 2012
Sunday, October 14, 2012
Davlin/Brand New Mash Up
You may have noticed many of my works feature their own soundtrack. I've created audio for Maudlin intercut with Noro by Brand New. It's a good representation of how it all sounds in my head while I'm writing it all out. Since Blogger won't allow me to place the track here, follow this link to check it out. It's pretty damned impressive if I do say so myself.
Monday, October 8, 2012
A sum greater than its parts.
My fingers no longer shake as I enter the combination and open the clasps. It’s time to dispose of the items within, never again to be dwelt upon.
The first objects to be removed are the faces of the people who, for whatever reason, are no longer around. I smile as I see their faces, which comes from the realization that I’ve forgotten how to miss them. In fact, I no longer even seek new companionship I once found in the company of those familiar strangers.
Then its time to let go of the self pity and depression. They never served me well anyway and the seeping wounds from where their nails dug in deep are in desperate need of healing.
These are followed by my aspirations of fame, fortune and recognition. I’ve spent long enough chasing after this ignis fatuus and always agonized at how it remained just out of reach. I’m also discarding this obsessive need of working tirelessly for a steady paycheck instilled since birth; a fate I’ve always found to be much worse than death.
Finally, I relinquish all the other wants, desires and personal tragedies which had come to define me in the worse possible way.
I gather the pile into my arms and carry them into the field behind my mother’s house in a journey lit by nothing but the stars above. After arranging them in a clearing, I pull out a cigarette and place it to my lips. A brilliant flash of gold erupts from my lighter and I spark up the addiction I’ve never been able to shake. After a few puffs I throw it on the pyre, reducing everything I once was to nothing more than ashes.
Well, save for one item; the only thing I now seek.
A conclusion to the story; even if it’s nothing more than a period following some unfinished sentiment.
Saturday, October 6, 2012
Friday, October 5, 2012
I know they’re going to want to have the conversation soon; it’s inevitable.
“Have you talked to any doctors?”
“What are you planning on doing?”
“You can’t stay here.”
And I don’t know how to be honest with them, honest with myself. I’m well aware this is borrowed time and I’ve never been very good at paying off debts.
“Have you talked to any doctors?”
“What are you planning on doing?”
“You can’t stay here.”
And I don’t know how to be honest with them, honest with myself. I’m well aware this is borrowed time and I’ve never been very good at paying off debts.
Thursday, September 27, 2012
Anathema: A multi-media novella Part IV
Shimmer-Fuel
By the time I arrived in SC I was exhausted, starving and anxious. Jackie was thirty minutes late picking me up and I was dying for a cigarette, but had to fight the temptation because it was something she hated. It all comes back to patterns, right? After a quick lunch she took me to Jonathan’s where I showered and waited for her to come back. Did I mention she was married, which would make pursuing any kind of healthy relationship damn near impossible?
But I stuck it out and for the first week or so things were going great, though it was not something we could keep up for much longer. I started to apply for all the retail jobs I could walk to and tried my best to remain optimistic about the whole process. She slowly started cancelling plans, and when she didn’t they ended up making me miserable, anyways. The beauty of being wrapped up in the Hell of dating a selfish, borderline sociopathic woman is that it kept my mind off of you; at least until late one night I read your blog. Reading everything you’ve been through made me hate myself for not being at your side when you needed it the most. Then, I was taken aback by the things you said about me and responded with an assault of my own.
Keep yourself warm-Frightened Rabbit
Before too long I started working at Wal-Mart, which quickly became the worst job I’ve ever had. This, mixed with sleeping on a couch and dealing with Jackie’s increasingly neurotic bullshit meant I was desperately searching for anything positive to take my mind of things and I was fortunate to come across two. The first started with an anonymous comment from someone on Tumblr. After corresponding with this person like this for awhile, she eventually introduced herself. Micky became the dear friend I desperately needed. The second was when I hooked back up with some old friends. Larry, Kat and I started Group Therapy, giving each of us an artistic outlet.
Things with Jackie, at least when I saw her, became increasingly worse and it was becoming more than I could take. I began talking with Micky more and more frequently and she helped me find the strength I needed in order to do what I’d been wanting for awhile at that point. Released from her baggage, Micky and I started revealing the feelings for each other which had started to blossom. Immediately, we plunged into a full fledged long distance relationship. This was the beginning of the best times I’ve had since I left your side.
Topeka-Ludo
After a month of intense conversations, Micky finally came for a visit and it was the beginning of the end. She picked me up from work and, after a shower, we headed to a Group Therapy session. This was the night when I realized my friends weren’t who I thought they were and started losing interest in what we’d been working on. The next day her and I checked into a hotel room and spent the next two days ignoring the world outside its walls. While there I could tell she had bitten off more than she could chew by pursuing me and didn’t have it in her to keep going. She proved this by breaking up with me on her drive back home. And so, I spiraled back into depression.
For a variety of reasons, I started hating hanging out with Larry and Kat. This mixed with a feeling of hopelessness concerning my craft led to my decision to retire from writing. I then filmed my final performance and haven’t been back since.
I’d also put in my two weeks notice to Wal-Mart and started making plans to do something different. A week later I had a nervous breakdown and walked.
I’ve spent the month and change sinking deeper into despair and wanting to act upon my darker impulses. I discovered that when my mind wasn’t preoccupied with other things, it would always bring its focus back to you. I then found I still had much more to say.
Justify-The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus
But I couldn’t manage anything more than a piece or two dedicated to you. I was sitting on the back porch one day with a lighter and some of my handwritten pieces. The words scrawled upon the pages proved painful and I sought out to destroy them. However, it instead sparked my imagination and I started writing my final book, which is drawing close to its completion.
I was working on it last week when I’d started the pages dedicated to you lacking the materials I’d needed to complete them. This is when I started torturing myself with emails and photos we’d exchanged. Before long I came to the last words, which were laced with venom and have haunted me ever since. And, just like that, I shed the last tears I’d ever cry for you and collected them onto the pages.
Hard to say-The Used
Which brings us to the now. Today is September 27 and three hours ago was exactly a year since the last time I’d seen your face. I wish I could be strong about this and tell you I’ve gotten over you, even slightly, though lying is what got me into this mess to begin with. I miss you and think about you ever day. In less than a week I’ll be back in Texas with all it implies. I didn’t want any of this and I hope more than anything you’re happy and, if not that, then at least okay. And I know this isn’t what you want to hear, but I have never stopped loving you. But now I can’t allow myself to keep going back to the “what ifs” or “could have beens”. It’s just too painful. I need to let you go, because where I’m headed is not a place I would like you to see. I’ve already hurt you enough as it is.
Goodbye Ana.
Brothers on a hotel bed-Deathcab for Cutie
Fin.
By the time I arrived in SC I was exhausted, starving and anxious. Jackie was thirty minutes late picking me up and I was dying for a cigarette, but had to fight the temptation because it was something she hated. It all comes back to patterns, right? After a quick lunch she took me to Jonathan’s where I showered and waited for her to come back. Did I mention she was married, which would make pursuing any kind of healthy relationship damn near impossible?
But I stuck it out and for the first week or so things were going great, though it was not something we could keep up for much longer. I started to apply for all the retail jobs I could walk to and tried my best to remain optimistic about the whole process. She slowly started cancelling plans, and when she didn’t they ended up making me miserable, anyways. The beauty of being wrapped up in the Hell of dating a selfish, borderline sociopathic woman is that it kept my mind off of you; at least until late one night I read your blog. Reading everything you’ve been through made me hate myself for not being at your side when you needed it the most. Then, I was taken aback by the things you said about me and responded with an assault of my own.
Keep yourself warm-Frightened Rabbit
Before too long I started working at Wal-Mart, which quickly became the worst job I’ve ever had. This, mixed with sleeping on a couch and dealing with Jackie’s increasingly neurotic bullshit meant I was desperately searching for anything positive to take my mind of things and I was fortunate to come across two. The first started with an anonymous comment from someone on Tumblr. After corresponding with this person like this for awhile, she eventually introduced herself. Micky became the dear friend I desperately needed. The second was when I hooked back up with some old friends. Larry, Kat and I started Group Therapy, giving each of us an artistic outlet.
Things with Jackie, at least when I saw her, became increasingly worse and it was becoming more than I could take. I began talking with Micky more and more frequently and she helped me find the strength I needed in order to do what I’d been wanting for awhile at that point. Released from her baggage, Micky and I started revealing the feelings for each other which had started to blossom. Immediately, we plunged into a full fledged long distance relationship. This was the beginning of the best times I’ve had since I left your side.
Topeka-Ludo
After a month of intense conversations, Micky finally came for a visit and it was the beginning of the end. She picked me up from work and, after a shower, we headed to a Group Therapy session. This was the night when I realized my friends weren’t who I thought they were and started losing interest in what we’d been working on. The next day her and I checked into a hotel room and spent the next two days ignoring the world outside its walls. While there I could tell she had bitten off more than she could chew by pursuing me and didn’t have it in her to keep going. She proved this by breaking up with me on her drive back home. And so, I spiraled back into depression.
For a variety of reasons, I started hating hanging out with Larry and Kat. This mixed with a feeling of hopelessness concerning my craft led to my decision to retire from writing. I then filmed my final performance and haven’t been back since.
I’d also put in my two weeks notice to Wal-Mart and started making plans to do something different. A week later I had a nervous breakdown and walked.
I’ve spent the month and change sinking deeper into despair and wanting to act upon my darker impulses. I discovered that when my mind wasn’t preoccupied with other things, it would always bring its focus back to you. I then found I still had much more to say.
Justify-The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus
But I couldn’t manage anything more than a piece or two dedicated to you. I was sitting on the back porch one day with a lighter and some of my handwritten pieces. The words scrawled upon the pages proved painful and I sought out to destroy them. However, it instead sparked my imagination and I started writing my final book, which is drawing close to its completion.
I was working on it last week when I’d started the pages dedicated to you lacking the materials I’d needed to complete them. This is when I started torturing myself with emails and photos we’d exchanged. Before long I came to the last words, which were laced with venom and have haunted me ever since. And, just like that, I shed the last tears I’d ever cry for you and collected them onto the pages.
Hard to say-The Used
Which brings us to the now. Today is September 27 and three hours ago was exactly a year since the last time I’d seen your face. I wish I could be strong about this and tell you I’ve gotten over you, even slightly, though lying is what got me into this mess to begin with. I miss you and think about you ever day. In less than a week I’ll be back in Texas with all it implies. I didn’t want any of this and I hope more than anything you’re happy and, if not that, then at least okay. And I know this isn’t what you want to hear, but I have never stopped loving you. But now I can’t allow myself to keep going back to the “what ifs” or “could have beens”. It’s just too painful. I need to let you go, because where I’m headed is not a place I would like you to see. I’ve already hurt you enough as it is.
Goodbye Ana.
Brothers on a hotel bed-Deathcab for Cutie
Fin.
Wednesday, September 26, 2012
Anathema: A multi-media novella Part III
The Diary-Hollywood Undead
The suicide scare put me at odds with my mom and step dad, so I started making plans to stay with someone else. On my last night there I took a package of note cards and started on a complete rewrite of Scattered Thoughts. I packed up all the belongings I deemed crucial to my artistic success and left for my aunt’s before mom or Jeff got home. I stayed with her for two days and on the second one, I completed the newly titled My time in Hell and other whimsical tales.
Mom was putting pressure on me to get myself checked back into the hospital, but the fact was finishing the book was the best therapy I could have gotten. The next day I moved in with my cousin, Christy and stayed in the room I grew up in, along with a whole new set of triggers. You haunted my every thought and each time I closed my eyes there you were to make sleep impossible. To make matters worse, everyone I’d left behind six months prior were not shy about letting me know just how angry with me they were.
To get out of the house I’d hit up a Starbucks nearby and started the task of sending out query letters in the hopes some agent would take me on and finally get me published. They didn’t.
But I wouldn’t be discouraged and started brainstorming how to go about writing the next chapter. For the better part of a year I’d planned a book dedicated to you and the life we were going to build together, though now it didn’t seem appropriate. Inspiration finally struck when I was smoking out with an old co-worker.
While in Tennessee I came up with this idea to do a horror story dealing with the supernatural and which was handwritten in a journal. The plan was to use some of my own stories as the foundation on which I’d build the narrative. Instead, I merged it with the story of us and I’ve no reason to dream… became what it is today. After a week of locking myself into that room and working constantly; it was finished. That’s when I bought a new journal and started all over again.
Jump on my shoulders-Awolnation
Something I don’t talk much about is that during this time I was locked in battle with things most people wouldn’t believe. There was something after me and it fought fucking dirty. The closer I became to finishing the book; the angrier The Beast would get and my mental state was growing increasingly unstable.
Mom got me a job in the kitchen of the nursing home where she works and I began an ill advised romantic relationship; though the latter dissolved as abruptly as it had started. I also found out from a mutual friend just how much you came to Hate me; even going so far as to demand my name not be said while in your presence. It hurt more than I was prepared for and I spiraled further into self destruction.
In January of this year my car was repossessed and I became even more isolated as a result. I took all the anger, frustration and depression and pored them out onto the page. Before I knew it, my work was finished and the demon defeated. I had somehow managed to exorcise it and now it remains trapped within the tome. In truth, I don’t like to touch it unless absolutely necessary.
This is when things turned around as much as I’d be allowed. I self published My time in Hell…, though it was met with minimal interest. An old flame from my past came back and as we talked I let myself believe my feelings were stronger than they were in order to get over you. My cousin and I got into a massive fight which all but left me homeless. So, exactly a year after moving to be with you, I hopped on a bus to South Carolina to see where this next romantic endeavor would lead. The one thought I couldn’t shake on the 25 hour ride was that it was cheapening everything I did so we could be together.
Between you and I-Every Avenue
The suicide scare put me at odds with my mom and step dad, so I started making plans to stay with someone else. On my last night there I took a package of note cards and started on a complete rewrite of Scattered Thoughts. I packed up all the belongings I deemed crucial to my artistic success and left for my aunt’s before mom or Jeff got home. I stayed with her for two days and on the second one, I completed the newly titled My time in Hell and other whimsical tales.
Mom was putting pressure on me to get myself checked back into the hospital, but the fact was finishing the book was the best therapy I could have gotten. The next day I moved in with my cousin, Christy and stayed in the room I grew up in, along with a whole new set of triggers. You haunted my every thought and each time I closed my eyes there you were to make sleep impossible. To make matters worse, everyone I’d left behind six months prior were not shy about letting me know just how angry with me they were.
To get out of the house I’d hit up a Starbucks nearby and started the task of sending out query letters in the hopes some agent would take me on and finally get me published. They didn’t.
But I wouldn’t be discouraged and started brainstorming how to go about writing the next chapter. For the better part of a year I’d planned a book dedicated to you and the life we were going to build together, though now it didn’t seem appropriate. Inspiration finally struck when I was smoking out with an old co-worker.
While in Tennessee I came up with this idea to do a horror story dealing with the supernatural and which was handwritten in a journal. The plan was to use some of my own stories as the foundation on which I’d build the narrative. Instead, I merged it with the story of us and I’ve no reason to dream… became what it is today. After a week of locking myself into that room and working constantly; it was finished. That’s when I bought a new journal and started all over again.
Jump on my shoulders-Awolnation
Something I don’t talk much about is that during this time I was locked in battle with things most people wouldn’t believe. There was something after me and it fought fucking dirty. The closer I became to finishing the book; the angrier The Beast would get and my mental state was growing increasingly unstable.
Mom got me a job in the kitchen of the nursing home where she works and I began an ill advised romantic relationship; though the latter dissolved as abruptly as it had started. I also found out from a mutual friend just how much you came to Hate me; even going so far as to demand my name not be said while in your presence. It hurt more than I was prepared for and I spiraled further into self destruction.
In January of this year my car was repossessed and I became even more isolated as a result. I took all the anger, frustration and depression and pored them out onto the page. Before I knew it, my work was finished and the demon defeated. I had somehow managed to exorcise it and now it remains trapped within the tome. In truth, I don’t like to touch it unless absolutely necessary.
This is when things turned around as much as I’d be allowed. I self published My time in Hell…, though it was met with minimal interest. An old flame from my past came back and as we talked I let myself believe my feelings were stronger than they were in order to get over you. My cousin and I got into a massive fight which all but left me homeless. So, exactly a year after moving to be with you, I hopped on a bus to South Carolina to see where this next romantic endeavor would lead. The one thought I couldn’t shake on the 25 hour ride was that it was cheapening everything I did so we could be together.
Between you and I-Every Avenue
Tuesday, September 25, 2012
Anathema: A multi-media novella Part II
Hands open-Snow Patrol
The afterglow of being together started to fade quickly when the reality of our actions set in. Financial woes, my vices and you not being completely ready for a full time commitment lead to an argument which never actually ended.
Over the next six months our bond degenerated rapidly. I know you’d tell people I broke your trust and I can’t deny this. However, I endured more callous actions from you on a daily basis than you did during our entire relationship, but I shouldered the infractions because I felt what we had was worthwhile. The truth is you pushed me away from the instant I moved there and didn’t have the guts to be honest with me about your feelings in anything other than shouting or passive aggressive comments. So, I allowed you to play the victim.
You ended it on an anniversary which said more than you ever could with those insults and accusations. After I’d already quit my job and prepared for the trek back to Texas, you convinced me to go with you to South Carolina for the worst trip of my life. Three days after we got back communication broke down even further and we eventually said our goodbyes, after which I climbed into my car and retreated to my mother’s house.
Rusted from the rain-Billy Talent
For the next several weeks I languished in that upstairs bedroom. Finally, it became too much to bear and I wanted to die almost as much as I still longed to be with you. Around this time mom’s house was broken into and I lost almost every material possession I held dear.
As I sifted through the remnants of my life I came across the writing supplies I had bought on a trip with you to Wal-Mart. Desperate for solace; I picked up a pen, put it to paper and began the healing process.
Garden Statement-Hidden in Plain View
The afterglow of being together started to fade quickly when the reality of our actions set in. Financial woes, my vices and you not being completely ready for a full time commitment lead to an argument which never actually ended.
Over the next six months our bond degenerated rapidly. I know you’d tell people I broke your trust and I can’t deny this. However, I endured more callous actions from you on a daily basis than you did during our entire relationship, but I shouldered the infractions because I felt what we had was worthwhile. The truth is you pushed me away from the instant I moved there and didn’t have the guts to be honest with me about your feelings in anything other than shouting or passive aggressive comments. So, I allowed you to play the victim.
You ended it on an anniversary which said more than you ever could with those insults and accusations. After I’d already quit my job and prepared for the trek back to Texas, you convinced me to go with you to South Carolina for the worst trip of my life. Three days after we got back communication broke down even further and we eventually said our goodbyes, after which I climbed into my car and retreated to my mother’s house.
Rusted from the rain-Billy Talent
For the next several weeks I languished in that upstairs bedroom. Finally, it became too much to bear and I wanted to die almost as much as I still longed to be with you. Around this time mom’s house was broken into and I lost almost every material possession I held dear.
As I sifted through the remnants of my life I came across the writing supplies I had bought on a trip with you to Wal-Mart. Desperate for solace; I picked up a pen, put it to paper and began the healing process.
Garden Statement-Hidden in Plain View
Anathema: A multi-media novella Part I
It’s been almost a year since the last time I shared your bed. I remember laying on my side; both of us exhausted of accusations from the two week argument and just watching your face. I tattooed every detail onto my memory. I remember thinking, “this is the last time I’m going to see the love of my life.” Again, I’m getting ahead of myself. Let’s go back…
The dolphin’s cry-Live
We met through mutual friends on Myspace and, though we’d never met face to face, you remained my absolute favorite person. I’d always loved you from afar. We were always seeing someone else and when we weren’t, we were absolutely fucked from when life took its toll. I got herpes; you had your own sacred scar. Even though we’d go for months without speaking, we could sense when the other was suffering and pick them up when no one else seemed to give a damn.
I began to experience professional and artistic successes. Life finally seemed to fall into place. But I didn’t have what I truly desired. I didn’t have you. Finally, I made the most terrifying proclamation of my life.
Inevitable-Anberlin
To my astonishment, you reciprocated. I got to see the side of you I’d longed for ever since we’d met four years prior. Around this time I was also accepted into a film school. We began to plan our relationship around this; giving us each the time we’d needed in order to attain the strength needed in order to make something this important work. Then it fell through after I’d already quit and decided to move in with you right off the bat. Mom encouraged me to visit you before I did anything too rash. The next morning I was on my way to Tennessee.
Sunsets and car crashes-The Spill Canvas
It was the absolute best week of my life, but it wasn’t meant to last.
It’s not a bad little war-Bayside
The dolphin’s cry-Live
We met through mutual friends on Myspace and, though we’d never met face to face, you remained my absolute favorite person. I’d always loved you from afar. We were always seeing someone else and when we weren’t, we were absolutely fucked from when life took its toll. I got herpes; you had your own sacred scar. Even though we’d go for months without speaking, we could sense when the other was suffering and pick them up when no one else seemed to give a damn.
I began to experience professional and artistic successes. Life finally seemed to fall into place. But I didn’t have what I truly desired. I didn’t have you. Finally, I made the most terrifying proclamation of my life.
Inevitable-Anberlin
To my astonishment, you reciprocated. I got to see the side of you I’d longed for ever since we’d met four years prior. Around this time I was also accepted into a film school. We began to plan our relationship around this; giving us each the time we’d needed in order to attain the strength needed in order to make something this important work. Then it fell through after I’d already quit and decided to move in with you right off the bat. Mom encouraged me to visit you before I did anything too rash. The next morning I was on my way to Tennessee.
Sunsets and car crashes-The Spill Canvas
It was the absolute best week of my life, but it wasn’t meant to last.
Back Home (READER DISCRETION ADVISED)
It took selling almost all my possessions and left a lot of business unfinished, but I made my way and took my rightful place at your side. Unfortunately I managed to smuggle all my baggage and flaws along with me, which slowly tore down everything we’d worked so hard to build.It’s not a bad little war-Bayside
Tuesday, September 18, 2012
Samples from my final work.
I think what it all boils down to is a matter of wanting to shed this skin so I can become the man I was meant to be.
Lately I’ve gotten into the habit of taking long walks at night by myself. I just block out the world around me and let the music do the talking.
I’m also scared of what I’ll see when I do finally doze off. The dreams have become intense and often follow me into the waking world.
Blistered feet make every step an act of penance.
I wanted to make art. Something dirty, honest and fearless. I wanted my work to have depth and texture.
If I could do this full time I would have no complaints, but I can’t because it is unable to bring any money in Our society isn’t made for free thinking artistic types.
A vast majority of the people I’ve known have told me they don’t like to be around me because I’m a downer. Here’s the thing; while they get to walk away…I’m fucking stuck with myself.
When most people think of art their minds probably conjure images of paint splashed upon canvas. I’m much more interested in experimenting with ink and the written word carved into loose leaf.
I didn’t want to merely sever the ties which are keeping me here; I wanted to reduce them to ashes and cinder.
Reading my work after it’s been typed loses almost all of its emotional resonance for me. The cold, soulless fonts, mixed with going by my middle name allow me to disconnect with the material almost entirely. This is not the case if it’s still written in my script. Each word maintains its weight and power.
End of Act III
Thursday, July 5, 2012
After almost a year's absence...
www.bledoutontoapage.com is back.
This is one of the best things I've ever done and the more work you put into it, the more you'll get out.
So, check it.
This is one of the best things I've ever done and the more work you put into it, the more you'll get out.
So, check it.
Tuesday, June 5, 2012
Wednesday, April 25, 2012
Stream of conciousness 2: Somewhat of a vagabond
I reach for my box of Marlboro Gold 100s to find them empty, so I prepare myself for the one hour trek to a gas station to pick up some more. My MP3 player is dead meaning I’ll have to rely on my thoughts and the environment for a soundtrack, which can get pretty nasty at times. I throw on my Venom hoody which is still damp from when I washed it earlier and walk out the door. My busted sneakers lead me past the cookie cutter homes which make up the neighborhood, past the pond and near the wooded area which will soon be replaced with the overwhelming blandness of small town America.
This is when my thought process kicks in.
I tend to live my life somewhat as a vagabond. Just a month ago I made the third cross country relocation in the span of only a year. The story for the first and second can be found here, with the third taking place here. I actually do this pretty regularly. I’ve never mastered the art of making a relationship, either romantic or platonic, last more than six months and it makes it much easier to sever all ties and abandon ship. The only problem is that the social and economic consequences get heftier each time.
As a matter of fact, the only things I was able to bring with me during this move was a duffel bag full of clothes and toiletries, my netbook, Kindle, MP3 player and the flashdrive and journal which make up I’ve no reason to dream… I end up having to do a lot of laundry because I only brought enough clothes to last me about a week. Money is dangerously low.
As I’m walking and letting my mind wander I get sporadic text messages from her and they intensify the lonely feeling which has lingered with me over the last several days. My brain keeps trying to ask questions I don’t want to find the answers for so I do my best to ignore it.
I don’t have a car so the only jobs I’ve been able to apply for are the various retail outlets within walking distance from the house. I’m almost 27 years old and I really thought I was beyond doing this kind of stuff by now. I’m not saying I’m too good for this kind of employment; I just want more for myself. It’s difficult once you find where your heart is and the thing you are most passionate about; only to discover it’s damn near impossible to make a living off of. I’d self published My time in Hell… as an e-book almost three months ago and so far have sold a whopping 7 copies. Don’t get me wrong I’m thankful for each and every one of them and I wasn’t expecting to make thousands of dollars, but I don’t know…it’s a little disheartening.
Back at the house I sit outside and smoke a cigarette as I let all the thoughts I’ve shaken up settle back down and fall into place. I haven’t been writing much as of late and find it a difficult muscle to stretch once it’s started to atrophy, so I’ll leave you with this…
I have to believe everything that’s been happening is leading me somewhere and just need to be patient until I finally arrive.
Sunday, April 22, 2012
Refresh
Can't tell me nothing-Kanye West
On the second entry of this blog I stated that I would neither take back or apologize for anything I write. When it comes to my blogs and serious works, this remains true. This month alone I've written some harsh and, let's be honest, borderline reckless pieces. While the sentiments expressed in some of my words might not be the same ones I have today, I stand by everyone of them. And there they shall remain.
Boulevard of broken dreams-Green Day
The last eighteen months have been an absolute roller coaster and I'm still trying to process it all. I'm hesitant to talk about it much because it's the very basis for my second book, I've no reason to dream..., and I'd rather you find out about it in the way I've intended. This is the project I want to share with the world and I can't do that unless my first book, My time in Hell and other whimsical tales, is a success. The story I've crafted is nothing short of astonishing and I'm scared no one is going to be able to see what I've done. If you want an idea of what's been going on, this is all I'll give you.
Jump on my shoulders-Awolnation
On the second entry of this blog I stated that I would neither take back or apologize for anything I write. When it comes to my blogs and serious works, this remains true. This month alone I've written some harsh and, let's be honest, borderline reckless pieces. While the sentiments expressed in some of my words might not be the same ones I have today, I stand by everyone of them. And there they shall remain.
Boulevard of broken dreams-Green Day
The last eighteen months have been an absolute roller coaster and I'm still trying to process it all. I'm hesitant to talk about it much because it's the very basis for my second book, I've no reason to dream..., and I'd rather you find out about it in the way I've intended. This is the project I want to share with the world and I can't do that unless my first book, My time in Hell and other whimsical tales, is a success. The story I've crafted is nothing short of astonishing and I'm scared no one is going to be able to see what I've done. If you want an idea of what's been going on, this is all I'll give you.
Jump on my shoulders-Awolnation
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