So, you see, I have this plan that I have just come up within in the last three minutes that I am positive has absolutely no negative applications or implications for me whatsoever. I mean, have I ever lied to myself before?
I am a big fan of writing the thing that is at the forefront of my mind and, if you have been here for longer than five minutes, you know that I don’t do revisions. If it doesn’t work the first time, then it gets deleted and I switch to something else entirely. I feel it is inauthentic to, with exceptions for things I deem important, not give everyone a first draft so they can see it raw as opposed to filtered melancholy. I like to give you my melancholy straight from the source thank you very much. I give it a quick look for massive typos, but that is it.
So, the idea that I haven’t told you about since I am still kind of forming it in my head a little bit.
I love to write and I know it is good for me. However, I also know that it is bad for me to keep to a schedule for writing for a few reasons. Firstly, I ignore the schedule and it defeats the purpose and, when I do adhere to the schedule, it destroys creativity because I am just trying to push words like a vacuum salesperson.
Contrarily, I need to be kicked in the ass every now and again to make sure I don’t sit on ideas into the fields go fallow and I am left with the pedantic migraine essays I tend to phone in when I have nothing better up in the old dome-pot.
So, a midway compromise is that I don’t make myself follow a when I make myself follow the what/how much methodology. I am pretty sure no one but me cares, but I like to be transparent as to why all of a sudden most of the things you read will be upwards of twice, maybe three times as long as the things you saw the week before.
I think it is a good compromise between forcing a thing and getting the things in my head out of the thing so I stay at least as close to the legal definition of “in control of my feelings” as I ever seem to get nowadays.
This means I will be going back to the stories, not nearly as often as I was pushing them out probably, but at least they will exist and that is a start if nothing else. Plus, I think it will let me get a good setup for the podcast thing going and, if I am lucky and my head decides to cooperate, I can fill some requests that people have been giving me. I really love reading things and having people tell me they enjoy it. It is more pride in knowing I conveyed the emotions the original author wanted to have the reader experience more than anything else.
I will be participating in NaNoWriMo this year, but I suppose it is still a little early to talk about that so I will just plant that seed here and hope I remember that come Fall. I miss doing it and even though I only finished it the once, it is a badass endeavor to try and get 50,000 words written in thirty days. I don’t have the ability to drink Jolt cola and stay up thirty-six straight writing like I used to, but I will give it the old what-for and see what I can make of it.
You’ll notice I accidentally-on-purpose haven’t talked about the things in my head today, well, there are a few reasons for that I think.
First, if I get tired of feeling them, I can’t imagine what y’all must feel every day listening to the same shit on repeat. Secondly, why tell you? I know some of you genuinely care and I love each and every one of you that do. Some of you could care less and I swear you fucking come here for the schadenfreude of it all.
So, we’ll do a brief, how’s that sound?
Yeah, my head hurts a lot. Yep, still sad. Yuh huh, I am really angry over a lot of unresolved things that will most likely never get resolved because that is what life is all about.
However, and this next part is for two people to read and the rest of you, well, whatever.
I still look forward to the battle tomorrow, the day after that and forever into the future because it is better to fight the fight of a lifetime daily than to mope about the fucking thing and be pitied.
I’m going to end this with a thought that I have been having pretty non-stop the last week or so that not only has nothing to do with the things above, it is a sharp left turn to get away from maudlin and get back to anger.
I am a big motherfucker. 6’10”, 420lbs. Big.
I want a shirt, a simple shirt that says #freedadhugs on it. Maybe a design, maybe not. In order to get this shirt, and this is by no means a dig into the printing industry, I have to buy the 8XLT shirt I want to put it on and then pay the awesome people that print the things to print it for me.
Now, what is my problem with this?
I get that there are very few tents wearing people in the world. We are a rare breed and we are sated by sex and meat candy mostly. However, is it not possible to NOT charge me $40 for a cotton shirt? yes, I know you can find them cheaper, but I am a delicate fucking flower and like a particular brand thank you very much for inquiring.
The male Big and Tall industry is, well, broken. They know people are fucked because they need them and they laugh about it because they know there is nothing people can do about it.
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