Try

Trying to go somewhere else with this. Let's see. 

     I don't think I have it in me right now. To go to another island and write a story. There's a bee buzzing around. Not a bumble bee but not a hornet either. Some other type. I don't care to figure it out, but he keeps hanging around the spot another bee died and ants slowly tore him apart. Fun stuff.

      Perhaps I'm witnessing the full circle. Perhaps he's mourning the loss of his friend as I happen to be out here as he tries to find out where he went. A recon mission, or whatever you call it when they go to figure out where someone went. Well he's dead. Damn dead. We saw those ants take your buddy apart limb by limb for hours. No we weren't watching for hours but over the course of the day we saw the progression.

       This damn bee won't go away. 20 minutes now he keeps hanging around. I've never ever seen this. His nest is clearly not nearby and he's not trapped in a room. He's just...hanging out. I get nervous. Not from the bee itself but the noise and erratic movement. Not sure why, but it is. Only when I'm by myself though. With any kind of company it never bothers me. The "be a man!" coming out of me. It's not voluntary.  

Drinks!

It's been 4 days since I've had anything to drink and most likely 6 before I have anything at all. I look forward to this and going on here and making a fool of myself some more.

- Me

Burnsville

Everything has a purpose.

     For instance, here I sit, on a porch swing on the back of a cabin, on the back of a larger property containing horses, wildlife and insects, birds and bees alike, at the back of a creek that sits in front of me, at the end of a harrowing steep rock trail on the back of a mountain, at the back of the North Carolina/TN border. On the back of the world it might as well be.

         And it's gorgeous. 

             Birds are chirping, crows are crowing, (two very separate things) ants are crawling on my foot. My feet are bare. It's damp out, the perfect amount. Everything is green. A creek flows not 50 feet away down a small decline right from the edge of the porch I swing on as I write this. I'm in the middle of nowhere, but it's beautiful. 

       But back to my point, everything has a purpose. For instance, there's a decorative molded stand for an orb here on the porch. You know, one that you find a colorful orb in? You know the one. Someone placed it there and found the orb to put in it. Especially out here where you'll be travelling over 30 miles for any kind of plaza. It's amazing. But upon sitting here and taking it in, I notice the orb, is actually a bowling ball. I'd know it more than the average bear (being a self-proclaimed candlepin star) "Xtreme" is written on the side, half-covered in grime from the elements. But a telling dot located at the top of the ball gives it away as well, a standard marking on larger duckpin bowling balls. Someone PUT it there, someone had the know-how and cleverness to put that there instead of a silly orb you find in the home-depot gardening section. They probably had it in their basement. 

        There's also wire fence back here. A trail that leads to nowhere (yet) with a gate in front of it. Like a barn gate. Off it's posts are the wire that run along the creek. Thankfully on the other side of the creek so I can go nose around there when I feel more adventurous later. But on the gate posts, a rock sites on top of the right post. Why? Why the hell is it there? Someone put it there. Why the fuck is it there? Who decided that's where it should be? Where'd they find it? It's glaringly white as well, it doesn't look like it was found nearby. But then again, we arrived last night and this is the first time I'm discovering this place in any cloud light. 

            It's been a harrowing set of days until now. Thursday night into Friday afternoon we drove straight through to Ohio to meet up with some folks I'd never met to stay with. Great people. Long drive as well, but worth it. Thankfully I've been snapping up film shots left and right in addition to with my phone. I've become more conservative with all the documenting as of recently. It's a bug having to sift through 10 pictures of the same crappy landscape. (which is only crappy as a photo cannot intake it's natural beauty in some cases) But photos have been taken and I've saved only what I deem best for the film. I've only got about 12 shots left on my last roll of film. So I'll either drop the cash on some more, or make it last. It scares me to death having a single roll last the course of 3-4 travel days. If you finish, and screw the film up upon rolling it back, then it's all gone. No re-do's. I need to stop using hyphens as well.

            The only snag, which we will just have to accept and adapt, is that this place IS very remote, which is what we wanted. But it's a hop, skip and jump away from the owner's house. Which means in the quiet, aside from crickets, you can hear a lot. We brought amps and snares and cymbals and guitars. We aren't trying to outright jam here, but cranking amps is necessary in the recording process. So that'll be interesting. I do want to get some ambiance from out back where I currently make my stand writing this as well. Beautiful bird calls, the creaking of trees on occasion, buzzing bees and the creek which takes precedent. It needs to be recorded. I'll use it at least once on record I'm sure.

        I do not recall hearing the sound of a car leaving this morning, although I was passed out cold from days upon days of erratic and little sleep. So they very well might have left. I'm not sure what a couple would do for work all the way up here. I'm not even sure where the closest city is. If they worked from home it'd be ideal, but then again, not for us. We need to be loud. It put a large and poor taste in my mouth realizing this whole incredible spot would be ruined by the fact that we cannot feel totally alone. Driving up the last 25 miles really put us in that mindset of being totally isolated and remote. If only these folks lived down the hill. Sound carries. Yes it does.

          There are also no curtains. Which is fine as nobody who even means harm would bother. But that feeling of alone-ness and isolation is KEY. So we're now at a deficit. I am, anyway. But now that I've gotten a full night's sleep, and soon some food in me, I might feel better. 

      There is no cell service here as well. Which is awesome on one hand, but if I had a bar to reach out to those who do not have my online contact info, that'd be nice. I'm digressing into a part of this previous weekend too much I think...  

Typing

Everybody's furiously typing away. 

          It's pretty quiet here for a rainy Monday. Very. But perhaps everyone's tired because of the weather, I know I am. It's just odd. Why elongate the weekend if you can't go out. Then again, I barely got out. 

        Everybody's furiously typing and I don't get it. The only time I furiously type is when i have an idea in my head and I can't get the words out as quickly as my brain is moving on to the next 20 sentences I want. I'll lose it if not. I DO lose many. It's a matter of how many will I capture while the story or sequence is floating around in my head. Sometimes I get them all, rarely, but sometimes. This dictates if I finish most things unfortunately. This goes with my phases post (did I post that, or have I been believing I wrote it?). If I have an idea, I'll furiously go through a micro-phase of furious writing. Until I get to a crossroads and my brain doesn't know where it should go, so I get bored with it and put it down for "later". Which usually means never, unless by some miracle I'm inspired to continue. 

           But on the macro level, there's a phase. A macro-phase where I lose interest in the whole idea all together. See, I'll love an idea for months and months, I'll even be in a writing phase for all that time, just not a focused one. It'll be all writing sure, just not on that one thing. Take for instance this book idea. I was writing a book about a Lyft driver and his adventures. The minute it had to become a reality, I got discouraged, because it became a chore. It became work. But I wrote my ass off about all sorts of other things. Which in turn, became a book. More on this later.

            But other than this type of thing, I never furiously type. I'm not that passionate about these things at work. It'll all work itself out. It's not a damn emergency. I'm not here to spend my life. Granted, I do love my job. Well, not my specific tasks, but my current situation. I'm not in the greatest financially from my own poor choices which is nothing new. I am however becoming complacent or perhaps, comfortable with this state. I've become numb to the fear of imminent doom as I've been in this position many times before, more than I care to count and I've come out not only alive, but relatively okay. Maybe this will change who knows. Maybe it's just building to a bigger letdown or breakdown. Who knows! It'll be a wonderfully spectacular surprise. 

           But people here furiously type like their life depends on it. Perhaps it does. As if their email which has yet to be sent is the most important thing in their life right now. As if the future of the institution hangs in the balance. WHOA! Heavy stuff. That's quite a load to bear. Thankfully, they're doing it for me. Yes, there are things I need to get done, nothing too pressing, but the way I see it, I'll have nothing to do for the rest of this quiet, laid back Monday.

        Also, now that I think of it, it's like clockwork. There's a few relaxed days, but usually followed with packed days of hell. Days of "Oh wow, I'm done EVERYTHING! How is this possible?" And the following day will be filled with "Hey did you forget to..." Oh shit. But that's the way my world works. It just is. But it all works out. No need to furiously type. Typing yes, but not furiously. Not as if it's the end of the world. If it is, I don't want that weight on my shoulders.

           Or perhaps that's just their standard typing speed, who knows.

Fridays (unpopular opinion ALERT)

I fucking hate Fridays. 

                  Yea yea, it's the end of the week, no work, the weekend. etc etc. 

But I loathe the thought of being left to my own devices without many plans most days. I have few friends and the ones i do sometimes are up to stuff. So I'm left alone figuring out what to do. I usually get self destructive. It's just no bueno. I enjoy the folks I work with, even though a lot of them are pretty vanilla and don't want to do anything after they've spent all their time during the week together. Some do try to hang. Some don't, some avoid.

       It's not that I'm trying to hang on to their friendship or anything, I'm very different than a majority of people here I can say with confidence. Very. So on a long term basis I don't think we'd get along. I am an introvert at heart. I love being alone. Especially when surrounded by people. I thrive on it, I can get a lot of personal projects done (or not and procrastinate) But lately, there's been a few things I've wanted to do with someone that I haven't, and so I feel forced to coop up and hide when i don't want to. 

            So I loathe Fridays the dynamic between the folks at work isn't there. I'm by no means saying I would rather work, I'd rather not. What I'm saying is, there's structure. I'm forced to interact, problem solve etc. On the weekend, there is NO structure, whatever less than lack thereof is what is. Total chaos and dismatlement (that's a word now) is what I do to my life. Total destruction. Physically, emotionally, mentally, all of it. I don't know what to do with myself. It's insane.

       Plus, fuck the weekend mentality. 

Alvvays tired

I saw Alvvays last night in Portland. Car made it, I know!

        You don't know about my car, i don't care to elaborate. 

  I'm always tired. Ever feel like that? Yea I know, we all do. Usually it's because I can't sleep, or stress and lack OF sleep, long nights etc. But sometimes, it's other reasons. Nyquil or meds, in my case, too much Melatonin. I didn't think it was addictive. It isn't BUT, you do stare at the bottle right before you sleep lying there thinking, "Well I might not get a good night's sleep if I don't have it. Hmmm." Plus now they sell different miligrams of it. 10mgs puts me out. Before it would wear off. But It's been every night or thereabouts for a few weeks and it does put me out cold. But if you have to wake up early, you feel groggy. I slept a solid (or so I think) 7 hours last night, or at least 6.5. But I think the pills vs lack of sleep and a long night forces your body to simply feel groggy all throughout the next day.

              ALSO! This is funny, found out someone I loathe is back in town. Drove by. Some things never change. Thank god they've got a recognizable vehicle. It's sad. They're such a sad troubling presence. But I know now. I knoowwww. It's been so many years yet they're existence revolves around themselves and spreading lies and rumors and truly believe everyone else is out to get them when everyone has forgotten. Sure, I'm writing now about the subject, but rarely do these people cross my mind. People long gone, further than them, and more recently have crossed my mind. They don't deserve time wasted on their toxicity. 

       I need a new Yo-Yo. 

Unstuck

I had a grande 'ol time last night. Two nights ago in fact.

         I got drunk, went for a walk downtown, and bought a Bukowski book, and a Yo-Yo. It was great. Last night I drank some, then walked downtown, and drank some more with my sister and co. I remember walking back, but not leaving the bar. First that's ever happened. 

            This morning, not so friendly. Fucking beer.

   I haven't had beer in weeks. It's mainly been rum, and I've felt fine for...weeks. Groggy perhaps, but not hungover. I was good and prepped so I wouldn't go attempting the impossible at the bar. Going from scratch. Blue Moon's expensive. But I had quite a few and now I'm dead.

            Attempting to rid this headache. I love walking downtown. 

                                           I love my Yo-yo. 

Stuck

I'm stuck! This is therapy. Perhaps I need to work this out here vocally in order to get out of it. It's meta. Totally. 

          What I'm saying is, the last few of these are about not being motivated enough to DO it. So maybe I need to work through it here. Get me? I'm working through it yes, but in my head. What I mean by that is working, coming home and vegging out. Nothing too productive. Perhaps I'm recharging the batteries. I know in the last one I said I was confident it'll come back, but as time passes I can't help but freak out. I mean shit, this is useless. Writing about this psychosis. Waste of your time, not mine. 

           But maybe by WRITING IT OUT publicly here, it'll get me past the rut, the speed bump. The chain-link fence that I need to vault over. Get me? I have to write a bunch about it in order to get past it. Got it? Good.

         I have no idea what else to write. I have no clever tag here. I don't know. I have bursts of creativity blow through my brain, but it's exhausting at the moment. So much wasted focus. I have a PROJECT TO FINISH dammit. I can't either. So much free time after work and during my weekends but shit if I can't finish the last 25% of it. I feel as though I'm close. But the time has past for the passionate bit. My brain has passed on to the next phase of what I want to be creative on and now it feels like intense, hard, unfulfilling work to finish! The book. The book the book the book! Book book book. Shiiiiitttt. Shit fucker. Fucker shit ass shit. FINISH DAMMIT.

         The worst part, is eventually, I will. But it won't feel as good when it's released. I won't feel it's any good as I would've if I finished it two months ago. Like the record I should've released 4 months ago. FUCKING FINISH! A lot is money. The content is there, but it's a royal pain formatting this thing, and it's not very straightforward how to set up a template. I can send it off and get it proofed and formatted, but I need some cashola and nata to spend as I've just moved out, you dig? So that's my current excuse. Check after check, I could spend a little portion on it just to fucking get it out, but since I'm not passionate about it anymore, my brain forgets THIS is the #1 thing I should spend on before food or rent. THAT's what happens when I'm passionate. I'll forget all my bills etc to get something soul-fulfilling out. 

                Okay, I'm done for now. Ugh. So much damn work. It's beautiful out but I'm still in a rut. 

Gross

I'm a gross human being who shouldn't be allowed to talk to anybody. 

I/O

It's been a while since I've written. I just haven't been in a writing mood. That's all there is to it. But I am confident as I now know myself. I have cycles. I've been writing music incessantly the last 4-5 months and beyond. I mean truly. Loads and loads. 

               There was an overlap. Music and writing here, but I've been living my life a bit. It's part of a cycle. I was in a place I hated and all I could do was write. Now I'm in a place I'm freer and i'm soaking it in for now. Let me live my life dammit! I've been relatively happy this week. Happy once but complacent and neutral most of it. Not sad and down is all that matters is what I mean. You know?

              I've moved and all that jazz. Still broke as shit as usual but that's because I'm buying tickets to shows this summer left and right. Financially still a mess, but I can afford this place and it's all gravy as they say. Who they is I don't know. I've stagnated on all my projects as usual. The next record, the book. I come back from work and just want to veg. Not good. I need to keep working. I'm trying. 

          No I'm not who the fuck am I kidding. I'm not motivated when I get back to my room. Just not. But that'll change. It will. It's a cycle. I have writing cycles. I write and write and write. Music, then words here, and then I just live. I live. With women or catching up or vegging or eating or working or playing or enjoying or performing or travelling or all those things. Then, after I've lived a little, I'll write some more. I'm in an intake stage. A receiving stage. Not a push or create phase. Input output. THERE IT IS.

   I'm in an input phase right now, not an output phase. 

         Give it time, I'll find something to bitch about and light a fire under my ass soon.

           Stay tuned. Or don't fuckers. 

I knowww

I know it's been a while. I know! Stawppp.

1. I've moved. Into a place, finally. 

2. My job is going okay. (but I might only feel this way as I've been at a 3 day conference downtown instead of working)

3. Book book book. Coming soon.

4. I'm drinking

5. My roommates are cool shit, one has a dog named Lady. She's quite literally the best dog in I've ever had the pleasure knowing. (my last post still stands)

6. Drink

7. Candelpin

               That's it.

I might hurt some of you by saying this...

    I love dogs. They're amazing. But I don't care about your fucking dog. "You gotta win over my dog before you win over me." Well, 1. Easy, most dogs operate off of your reaction and most just want love anyway. If a dog wants to bite my face off and I'm not trying to stab you, then something is wrong, with your dog. 2. Your dog is going to be dead soon. Might be a year, might be 10. Chances of outliving you are not in their favor.

        Perhaps that's why we love them. They're relatively innocent without much of a concept on their own mortality. That being said, I love animals very much. I think we do because we have them pegged, we own them and know how they work. Cats will tell you straight up how they feel. They don't need you and let you know. Dogs are dumb, fluffy, innocent and sometimes destructive teddy bears that you can rely on cheering you up. Humans are deceitful and hard and cruel.

    But eventually, your dog will be dead. Super dead. So quit lying to yourself. You enjoy people more because in the end, they're gong to get you out of jail, marry you, deal with your shit, talk you off ledges, on to them. They're going to fix your computer, car and roof. They can suprise you and let you down and make it up and change and wear a really dumb sweater and take a picture of you in yours. They'll help you with your homework and pick up the phone at 3:20 am when you're having a break down or break up or breakfast or a breakthrough. They can break your heart and they can make you laugh and they can make dessert and teach you how. They can tell you the most amazing stories and show you amazing things and shift your perspective on the world and open your mind and soul and help you eat cheesecake and you can eat they're leftovers when your late for work and thank god for that. They will make you and shake you and take you and kill your dreams and create them and bring you out of your comfort zone and into this cruel world and show you the one tulip or bluejay in it and jump off cliffs with you or a bridge and help you pick out a dog or buy you a puppy and be there when you have to "put them down" and be there to cry with and on and to and they will be there when every dog you've ever had is gone.

Thank god for humans.