My Whole Expanse I Cannot See…

So, I definitely seem to have vanished, disappeared, poofed… but I haven’t. Though, I suppose I kind of have disappeared. I don’t write, I don’t even tweet. I need to fix this, I want to anyway. I think it’s really easy to write when everything’s gone to shit, and it’s easy to write after something amazing happens, but when you’re on the edge of something, waiting for, working toward, scared of not getting something, it’s hard to put those feelings into words. It’s hard to care about or write about anything else too. You just end up stuck, at least, I do.

So, I’ve been pretty quiet of late, and… I don’t see that changing today.

So, I said I’d better explain some of the tattoos. but lately, I’m thinking I won’t. I wrote two, and I just felt, they’re not for the world. It’s difficult because this blog’s supposed to show everything, tell everything, but well, as far as four or five tattoos go, the show’s fine, but the tell just isn’t.

I’ve been thinking about this post a lot, it’s just hard to know what to say. I mean, writing about Steve Jobs in the past-tense is something I never expected to do, not ever. He was supposed to outlive me by decades, but now he’s gone and I’m just kind of at a loss for the right words.

I think Steve was so successful because he never set out to sell computers or digital music players or smart-phones, he was selling people a new reality, a reality in which technology would make life better. People wanted ways to organize their photos, listen to their favorite songs while taking the train to work, so he gave us the technology to make those things possible. Steve saw the little facets of life that were kind of annoying, like cluttered disks full of digital pictures, that giant CD collection that kept its own collection of dust, so he gave us the Mac and iPhoto to keep our memories organized and safe, iTunes and the iPod so we could ditch those dusty stacks of CDs, then the iPhone so we could easily stay connected to the people and things we care about, any time, any place. When he introduced a piece of hardware or software, he didn’t just rattle off feature-sets, he talked about what this shiny new whatever could DO to make your life a little bit better, to make tedious things not tedious anymore, and he always did so with intense sincerity and passion. He honestly believed in whatever new reality he was trying to sell, which convinced us to go spend some money to give that reality a whirl, and sure enough, Steve would be right. That device or software we bought did make life better, easier, more fun. I went to a bunch of Steve’s keynotes, I was there when he introduced iTunes, iPhoto, various colors and shapes of iMacs, nobody ever left bored, skeptical, we all wanted the “it” we just saw. We wanted it because Steve just seemed so completely and honestly certain that “it” would make our little pieces of the planet better. I get the same vibe watching Steve on-stage that I get from Kurt Cobain, they were both artists, and whatever they gave us on-stage was always so absolutely fucking honest, and they both changed the world, definitely changed my world, with that honesty. Perfect raw honesty is always beautiful, people want to be a part of it.

To me, Steve wasn’t just the CEO of some giant faceless technology company, he was someone I knew, someone I’d talked to back when I could talk. I interviewed him about Mac games back when I wrote about Mac games, the first and only interview he ever gave to a Mac games site. I was just a twenty-two year-old nobody, but he took the time to talk to me, to answer my five questions. A few years later, I was supposed to give the keynote at this big assistive technology conference and receive some kind of award, so I e-mailed Steve and said that I wanted to give that keynote on the best MacBook Pro available, to show people how far a Mac and assistive technology could go. Two days later, I had that MacBook Pro. I happened to choke on some pineapple juice a few weeks after I got that computer, and a few days before the conference, so I didn’t get to use it for half of the cool stuff I promised. I mostly used that computer for survival, two months in the hospital, those months at home figuring out how to be okay without being able to talk. I don’t think Steve regretted sending it, I was still pushing assistive technology to the bleeding edge, just in a more private way, with lots of drugs and liquor because my girlfriend left me. Steve sent a nice “You’re welcome” in reply to my explanation and “Thank you.” I think Steve liked assistive technology because, I think in his eyes, assistive technology shows the Mac, and now iOS devices as well, doing what he truly meant for them to do, but one step further. Apple devices and assistive technology don’t just make people’s lives better, they make people’s lives possible. There’s a difference between existing and living, for people with disabilities assistive technology is much of that difference, and I think Steve understood that fact. I think that’s why he talked to me that first time, why he sent me that MacBook Pro, why even when Apple was drowning in red ink and Steve was cutting departments and programs like crazy, he never cut Apple’s assistive technology efforts. Instead, assistive technology has expanded over the years at Apple. Apple makes sure that assistive technology developers get the support they need so their products don’t just work on Apple devices, they shine. My assistive technology doesn’t break every time OS X gets updated, because Apple supports its assistive technology developers, because Steve Jobs wanted assistive technology on the platform he created to make people’s lives better.

Steve Jobs really did change the world, he made life better, easier, more fun, and for some people, he made life possible. I met the woman I love, the other piece of the puzzle that is me, because of Steve’s technology. I wanted to send him an e-mail showing him some projects I’ve finally finished, but mostly, I really just wanted to tell him how the Mac has affected my life since I quit talking, how I met someone I want to be with for my ever because iChat let me say, “Hi!” I wanted to say thanks, I’ll always be sad somewhere in my head that I didn’t. Maybe he knows all this, has a better view of things from where he is right now. Maybe I’ll get to talk to him again somewhere else. I don’t know, I guess I’ll find out eventually, maybe.

So, I’ve done a pretty sorry job of explaining some of my more recent tattoos, which really goes against everything I’ve meant to do here.

I’ll re-visit the ones that need it.

So, I feel like I can’t just quit writing and go have a nervous breakdown, I don’t think that’s acceptable. It might be okay to write the nervous breakdown, but to just quit, to just go someplace and die, intellectually, spiritually, physically, I don’t think that’s something I’m supposed to do. Giving up can’t be the story of me and my fifty-eight (so far) tattoos, there has to be more. I have to make more, because ultimately, we do write our own stories. We let other people mark up our pages, write in the margins, but the main narrative is only written by one person. You for yours, me for mine. My narrative has kind of gotten away from me, I know I’m a better writer than that.

I feel dead inside, nothing feels good or beautiful. I want to feel like me again. I want to write again. I want things to feel warm and safe and pretty, nothing’s pretty. Nothing’s warm and safe.

Tattoo by Fish, Doc Dog's Las Vegas Tattoo, Ybor City

Tattoo by John, Doc Dog's Las Vegas Tattoo, Ybor City

I really don’t give a shit about explaining these, it doesn’t matter. I just want to post them with the rest before I go away.

So, just now I’m sitting in this coffee shop in Old Hyde Park, a trendier part of Tampa. It’s kind of overcast outside, it’ll probably rain sooner rather than later, and I’m trying to be creative. Trying to be creative. Failing to be creative. My head’s kind of a disaster, not that that’s anything new anymore. I’m surrounded by hip paintings of flowers and stylish shiny lamps, drinking a fuckin’ decaf soy almond latte, and none of it makes me feel anything good. Nothing feels good or beautiful, just hollow. Death Cab’s singing about following someone into the dark, and I’m – I don’t know.

Oh, hi…

No, I haven’t forgotten about this blog. Honestly, it’s one of my favorite things, it’s stupidly important to me. I remember when it was really pretty good, I wrote with a sort of crazy darkly optimistic abandon. I really wanted my thoughts put into words, put into pixels, it felt right, and good. Even if I was sad, I’d write the Hell out of that, and it was so sharp, and real, and kind of beautiful. People said it was beautiful. I miss that place so much, I just want to go back. I’m really very scared I can’t go back.

I almost know I can’t.