New Year's Eve.
I sat down to gather some thoughts regarding the year, maybe post only the second public entry this year. A record low.
Typing and deleting.
Typing and deleting.
I have nothing to say.
No, that's not true. I only have nothing I want to say to you.
This year;
After a string of sheer luck at the end of the year, I am making enough money to live now in some sort of comfort. That isn't to say I am making any decent amount. I can just pay my half of the bills and buy shoes when I need to. Or a Fante, when I find one I've yet to read.
I spent eight months working on a project I hoped would pick up steam, and it did a little, but not before burn-out caught up to me and a heavy depression shortly after. The project is dead now, despite the hundreds of hours I dumped into it. The ninety or so scripts. The research, the editing, the ambition and hope. Gone and I feel nothing.
I wrote a good amount otherwise, most of which I left private. Those will probably end up as a book later. They always do. I also wrote a handful of scripts and outlines for pilots, or web-series', or stage plays, and 15 or 20 half finished and mostly songs. Painted what I consider some of my best work, but nothing was regular. Nothing was inspired. Nothing felt important. Just killing time. Until
I don't know. Until there is no more until, I guess.
I read. I dove into books all over the spectrum. The aformentioned John Fante, some Rogo and Keel. A fair amount of anarchist and communist theory and discussion. Finally got around to diving into the grandfather of cosmic horror, Robert Chambers. I suppose that's one thing I can count as a net positive. Another year in a row when I read more than the year before. Keep the brain moving. Keep learning. Keep growing. Keep stepping out of my echo-chamber.
The only stimulation I really need. Thought.
...I tell myself.
Every morning the same. Heading nowhere. Doing nothing. I'm not playing shows. I'm not making headway. I'm rotting. This city is for people ten or fifteen years younger than me. When you're still bloodthirsty and cruel without realizing it. I see no good here, but, truth be told, I don't see any good anywhere else either. So, while I admit that I often feel trapped and alone, I also accept that there is nowhere else for me either. A sort of freedom in surrender.
Goddamn, what a year.
What a year of absolutely fucking nothing.
The administration that people far more naïve than me swore would save us, swore would be harm reduction is as bad (and often worse) as the previous villain. It's so tiresome to watch people fall into the theatre of it over and over and over. No one is coming to save us. We are on our own.
Jesus Christ,
The back half of this year has left me exhausted and overwhelmed. Joy is hard to come by. Listen, this is beginning to meander and spiral and I don't want to get into some diatribe of hopelessness, so
