My Whole Expanse I Cannot See…

I died awhile ago, I think. I drowned in brandy, or scotch, or some sort of exotic fruit juice. I really can’t say anything with certainty, my mind is all dim, my vision fuzzy, like my eyes are covered in a thin veil of gauze.

Maybe I’m just asleep, a bizarre world created in my head. Nothing feels the same, looks the same, slightly askew from what I remember. Something obviously happened, must have happened. I just can’t remember, so many gaps. So many Goddamn fucking gaps. Can’t think. Can’t breathe. If I am asleep, I can’t wake up.

Or worse, maybe I’m still alive, alive and broken. A shattered mirror that can’t be fixed. Always covered in spidery cracks, reflecting nothing.

I think I died, though. Drowned, or something. I think, but I don’t know.

Anyone can join, but I’d especially like people in or around Tampa to join my Twitter feed.

Note: Saying “fuck you” to someone you love is the worst possible thing to do in any situation.

So, a friend of mine works for the American Cancer Society and they have various fundraisers throughout the year. Right now, it’s Relay For Life time, and my friend needs your help. Her team needs to raise $1000 to beat last year’s record of $625. It’s an excellent cause, cancer sucks, and we really don’t want my friend to be a loser. There’s no need to live in Florida, or even stand up, just click here and donate.

I’ve liked the idea of Atheism for awhile, Atheists totally intrigue me. I mean, it seems so beautiful not to worry about God, or Heaven, or Hell. They’re so absolutely sure that there is no God and right now is it. I’d love to be that certain about things, but I can’t.

I’m not always faithful in God, but at the same time, I can’t be faithful in the absence of God. I can’t have absolute faith in either belief. Of course, if the Hell that I worry about does exist, my doubt in God will probably send me there just as surely as if I were a completely faithful Atheist. 

I’m afraid that God exists and He hates me, just as I’m afraid that there is no God and thus no one to ask for forgiveness or salvation. I guess I’m only truly faithful in the fact that nothing is certain.

South Park is simply absolutely fucking brilliant. Seriously, it’s amazing how quickly they pulled off such a spectacular post-election episode. It’s based on the Ocean’s heist movies, and it’s beautiful.

I feel personally responsible for electing Barack Obama because I rocked the vote.

As far as writing goes, I’m rather happy with Suicide Party. It’s really dark, edgy, has good flashes of imagery. It was inspired by my own astonishing depression and the exquisite prose of Catherynne M. Valente. Reading her has made me a better writer.

Honestly, in the last almost three years since I nearly permanently died, five writers have shaped the way I write about this completely strange and dark period in my life; Catherynne M. Valente, Jeff VanderMeer, K.J. Bishop, Michael Cisco and Chuck Palahniuk. They’ve all made my writing into something I’m proud to share. Yes, I’ve been depressed, even passively suicidal, but I’ve been able to put it to words, which I think is really important.

I’ve been so depressed because I’ve desperately wanted something that fell apart. I’ve been completely entangled in fixing it. The thing is, one person can’t fix or build a relationship. To me, when people are in love and want a life together, they’re a team. Neither person is perfect, sometimes one might fuck up really badly, but at the end of the day they try to work things out, because ultimately they feel like life is just better together. That’s how I feel, and I’ve seen it work. I’ve also seen it fail.

I’ve been a son in two divorces. My best friend’s wife left him after almost twenty years. Sometimes things go really wrong. I lost my love, the same brilliant woman, twice in almost four years. It pretty much broke me this time. For me, the hardest part was chasing the fix, the idea that we could be right again. Truth be told, I love her so astonishingly much, I’d take a zombie bite for her. It’s just that we have pieces that don’t fit. I can’t be what she needs. We see relationships very differently. I honestly realized all of this tonight.

No matter how beautiful, I can’t keep chasing a ghost. I can’t leave half myself with someone who can’t keep it. I’ve been absolutely destroying myself. So, it stops right now. I’m finally awake.

I’m a suicide party with no refreshments. I’ve no chocolates with razor-blade centers, no arsenic covered hors devours. I’ve no thalidomide wine to wash it all down. No waiters serving whole-grain crackers topped with a quick shotgun blast to the face. There are no crucifixes for one to hang one’s coat, or oneself. I’m a horribly under-staffed and under-stocked, poorly decorated wake not to be. I’ve but one lonely guest, and all I have to offer is time, time that they don’t want.

I love John McCain’s political ads…

Barack Obama, sadist, polyamorist, kitten eater. If you vote for him, you may as well just kill yourself.

I’m John McCain and I approved this message.