My Whole Expanse I Cannot See…

I formulate infinity stored deep inside of me…

Archive for August, 2009

Not writing

August 31st, 2009 | Category: Life

Lately, I’m not writing, at all. I haven’t written a Goddamn fucking thing in a week. My head is a bad scene lately, really fucking bad. I have a whole last day of New York to write, my favorite day, but I haven’t been able to make myself write it. I can’t focus on anything. Part of the problem is that I haven’t had an assistant for something like four weeks. Katherine, who went to New York, moved, and I haven’t been able to find the right person since. So, I haven’t really been able to go out much, definitely not in a way that feels right. I’ve been out with my brother a few times, but it’s not the same. He’s a great brother, but it’s really not the same. Assistants are the essence of freedom, they’re paid to do a job. An assistant’s job is to do exactly what I want, on my schedule, my terms. Family’s different, it feels wrong. It’s depressing, to me, if I want to go out at seven, and end up going out at eight instead. It might seem little, but the little decisions I don’t get to make add up to a lot of depression. My brother has a life, a job, hobbies, a lady, friends, and that’s all great. Christ, that’s everything I want, what everybody wants. The thing is, going out with my brother, even if my friends are there, I’m still fitting into his schedule. I can’t live my life, particularly my social life, on someone else’s schedule. That’s dependence, dependence is depressing, to me. It’s claustrophobic. I’m still interviewing assistants, I still don’t have one. I have to fix the assistant situation, it would soften much of the noise in my head.

Noise, so much noise, and not enough to distract me from it. I have to, and sooner rather than later, silence the noise, not just cover it with a fix.

Still, noise or not, I have to keep writing.


Weird Tales in the house!

August 24th, 2009 | Category: Life


So, my issue of Weird Tales arrived today, and it’s pretty fucking gorgeous. I never figured zombie erotica would get me into a Hugo Award winning publication, but here we are. I like zombies, and I love sex, I just never thought I’d put them together and end up with something that could be considered morbidly beautiful. I guess that’s kind of what I do, I write beautiful darkness.

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For her

August 24th, 2009 | Category: Attempted Poetry,Creative Flash

Stay with me awhile, your head on my shoulder.

Stay with me awhile, looking at me the way you do.

Stay with me awhile, the two of us in the dark.

Stay in case the zombies come, stay in case tomorrow doesn’t.

Stay because I love you, and because I’m why you look at me the way you do.

Stay with me awhile, let me kiss you slow.

Let me hold you close, let me stay awhile.

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Honest descriptions

August 22nd, 2009 | Category: Life

I’ve been thinking about my writing the wrong way. Lately, I’ve been worried about how my writing is perceived from the outside, whether or not I’m upsetting people, making them uncomfortable. I can’t do that, it goes against everything I’ve created in the name of transparency. The purpose of this blog is to write and be known, exactly as I am. Honest descriptions of whatever’s in my head, that’s what I write. I can hate myself, hate what I’m writing. I can be  happy and write how it feels. Sex, liquor, suicide, love, depression, cheer, whimsy, it all gets written so long as it’s written as an honest description of what’s inside.


Thinking about darkness

August 19th, 2009 | Category: Life

I’ve been thinking about my darkness, how I feel about it, and cope with it. I know there’s a lot of darkness in me. I understand and write about addiction, and loneliness, and depression, and suicide. My twenty-eight years of experiences have made me into, well, an often melancholy, introspective, cautiously optimistic fellow. Yet, I like who I am, I think there’s so much good in me. I think all my darkness helps me to deeply appreciate beauty when I find it. I don’t take love and people I care about for granted. Whenever I meet someone else who knows darkness, I try to pull them out because I know how absolutely bad loneliness in the dark feels. Deep down, I know my story doesn’t have to end badly, but I know it might anyway.

I think everybody has dark moments, dark thoughts. Some of us are darker than others, but nobody’s flawlessly happy. I think what makes me different is that I take the thoughts that most people hide and write them for anyone to see.


So again

August 19th, 2009 | Category: Life

So, I’m re-focusing myself, starting new. Writing really dark helps me get back to clarity. It’s almost like cutting my wrists, feeling the end, but waking up and not liking how that end felt. It’s the only way I know how to start over when I feel absolutely lost.

All that stuff I couldn’t write, I’ve let it go for now. Maybe I’ll write the most important parts later, after a little distance, I’m not sure. Tonight, I’m focusing on what’s ahead.

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Conversations with Kim: Sad Little Girls and Jesus

August 18th, 2009 | Category: Life

My friend, Kim, and I were talking earlier about sad little girls and a possible theological sitcom…

we’re like Sarah, Plain and Tall, or Little Lotta. Little Lotta, though she’s morbidly obese, she still manages to find happiness. oh that Jesus, always getting into trouble. we should write a sitcom, “That Darn Jesus.” are you ok? Jesus, Judas, the other apostles, Mary, Joseph, Satan, God the Father, the Holy Ghost, and Jesus’ mad-cap best friend, Kenny. They’ll have crazy adventures every week on FOX. I think we need a bigger audience than Adult Swim. no? Jesus and Kenny are the main characters, and Judas is always startin’ shit.

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August 18th, 2009 | Category: Life

So, writing hasn’t been easy for awhile. I’m depressed, distracted, very uneasy. As much as I believe in transparency, the things that are bothering me are things that I just can’t write. Well, I could write these things, I just don’t feel comfortable writing them. I don’t know what to do. I can’t write what’s the loudest in my head, and if I can’t write that, I can’t write anything.

I’m so absolutely tired of almost being happy, then not. I’m tired of decisions that aren’t mine. I’m just tired. I want to say, “fuck all.” I want to put my fists through glass. I want everything to burn. I want oblivion.


A sexy lamp and my death

August 17th, 2009 | Category: Life,Random Thought

So, here’s my end of a conversation I had earlier with my friend, Kim. My half of any conversation is generally always written in text. I don’t necessarily capitalize everything properly, but I always try to stick with proper grammar and punctuation.

Kim and I are talking about a lamp she recently gave me, the predicted circumstances of my death, and how my death will affect our pact to marry if we’re still single at forty.

nothing romantic was going on in this room until that lamp. apparently, I needed a boost. :-p It’s the lamp! Perhaps the lamp is like Dumbo and the feather? exactly. like, 22 years ago. face it, we’re old. we’re close. Celeste explained to me today that I’m going to die at 39 when we go to Spain. I’m going to be drunk on sherry and trampled by bulls. after the juice incident, when I was in the icu, she said I didn’t have to worry because bulls are going to kill me. so, today I asked when and how. she says she’s never wrong. so, let’s get married IN Spain, then you get to be a widow. We’re going to be there a week, then I die. We can get married on day 2. Not murdered, just drunk and trampled.


Right now

August 14th, 2009 | Category: Life

So, right now, I’m at the hospital waiting to hit the O.R. for a fresh trache. Usually, I don’t have my computer, this is a first. The NeuroSwitch recently became Mac OS X native and wireless, so here we are, live blogging.

I’m here, listening to my grunge/rock/folk mix. Kim Gordon’s singing right now, her voice sounds the way sex feels. I’m here, not nervous, I’ve become unaffected by this particular experience. I like my set of doctors and nurses, I adore the drugs, it’s really not an awful experience anymore.

I’m a little melancholy right now, but that isn’t new. I’m thinking about friends I want to see later. If I died in that O.R., whenever I actually go in, I wonder if they know what they mean to me. There’s this woman I love, I’m thinking about her. I’m thinking a lot about her. I miss her right now, but I always miss her to a degree. Being with her is the best thing I’ve ever felt, better than any liquor, better than the drugs I’m about to get, better than I have the skill to write sometimes. I’m thinking things I won’t write here, things that are just for her.

I’m thinking about my life, and how odd I’ve become.


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