I remember when things used to be simpler. When things really mattered. I remember thinking I had things under control. A girl I used to know decades ago said she only knew of three people who had their shit together. Me. Charles Manson. Henry Rollins. At least I think that was the list. Kind of a mixed blessing there either way.
Can't imagine what she'd think now if she looked into this brain of mine.
I'm tired of feeling this way. Not doing enough creative writing. Did some last night. Felt good. Felt real good. Felt like I was moving my future along. Haven't had time tonight. This does not count.
I start to slip when I don't do creative writing. I get a little touched.
I have these ideas for this blog and the others. Want to do a piece on justice. Want to do one on the powers of words and symbols. On Satanic Music For Good Children I want to do a piece on the Beatles. When my daughter turns eighteen I have this idea of going to South America for a while and finding a cannibal tribe. Want to partake. Some people want to see the Great Wall. Daddy Bush wanted to jump out of a plane. I want to get in touch with our most primal of fears. Will I do it? Maybe. Maybe not. Probably not. Quite honestly, I'm not too keen on camping, and that seems like it would be a little too much roughing it for my own good. I appreciate things like showers, running water, cable television. Still, it would be an experience worth writing about. Living amongst cannibals for a month. Taking part of their culture. Chronicling it. Fascinating.
I like coming on here when I'm tired and just writing whatever comes to mind. It's cheaper than therapy, and it does cause me problems from time to time, but I'm no stranger to controversy. I wear it like a comfortable coat. I don't care, and it shows.
See all those healthcare reform public meetings that devolve into chaos? I find it fascinating. I'm all for protesting, even violent protest. I just think the protests I have seen so far are poorly thought out rhetoric. It seems like the louder one screams the less they have to say. I wonder if these people have actually read anything on the reform outside their comfortable sphere of influence, or if they've relied only on talk radio and the columnists they agree with. To get all sides of the story, you have to look at all sides. I heard one screaming about socialism and how she doesn't want the government providing healthcare. I don't trust the government, either, but I had to wonder if she wanted the VA to stop providing care for our soldiers or if that is somehow different? I hope she's protesting that, too. Also saw one saying she didn't want her country to look like Russia. Since Russia is primarily capitalist now, I'd have to agree. I've always been partial to pre-Civil War Spain myself, but that won't fly now. Hell, we drink Coke!
It's late. It reminds me a line from The The. "It's late/And I'm the last person on this plane still awake." I may have gotten that somewhat wrong. It may be "train" instead of "plane," but the idea is the same.
Too tired to edit the manuscript. Don't want to fuck it up. I like having a block of time where I don't have to do anything and I'm wide awake. That ain't now. That depresses me. Everything sucks me dry. I feel like I'm putting a lot of time and effort into things that just don't need it.
A casual friend said something interesting to me today. Her words kinda shot around my head for a while. "You're the only person I know who can operate effectively at the edge of anger for so long. When do you stop?"
I don't know. Didn't know what to say. Could only laugh. That did not help the conversation.
Another co-worker told me she liked my shop local diatribe. I thanked her. It's nice to hear some positive words from time to time. That one seemed to hit home for some people.
It's only Tuesday. Can't imagine the rest of the week.