The lapse of posts from me are the result of so many things coming to a head, and my subtle inability to really get them all handled properly. So far…My Favorite Problem and I have kinda parted ways. And as much as it sucked, it also needed to happen. It’s one of those things where the timing was wrong,and in a moment of loneliness and slight bad judgment. And now, at least, the jihad that was leveled on me is over, most of the people involved think I am dead for some reason, and I am just keeping my head down and getting the stuff done that I need to. So as sad as it kinda is, at least it is something to keep my thinking and give me new stuff to dissect.

And on a more positive note, I have been reconnecting with a friend and it’s pretty nice so far. No pressure, no real worries. Although, I can see complications on the horizon, but I don’t think that is going to be anything of a catastrophic nature. But what the fuck do I know really? I mean, if you have been reading this blog (and I know there are at least two of you out there) then you know my judgment when it comes to the fairer sex is a bit screwy to say the least.

And that leads me to the crux of this post. I have been working on something for quite a few years now. A book. As all writers do. We all have a book that we have been working on for years. And for some reason, we just never get around to getting the fucking things done or published. It’s like a unification theory for anyone who fancies themselves a writer. I think it part of some unwritten rule that you have a unfinished book and it is just there really to get people to buy you drinks and make conversation about. It’s kinda stupid really. But I have one. And it has changed so many times over the years that I kinda have forgotten what the hell it was about in the first place. At this point, it has evolved into a collection of essays and anecdotes. And I am ok with that. It is just frustrating to me that I am trying to capture the absolute insanity that has been my 36 years and even being the one that lived it, I am having a horrible time getting it together. And I know that there are people that have had a way more interesting life, but I do think that I have a few things to share when all is said and done. But how to get it out there? How to get it out of my head and onto the page? I have tried all the usual stand-by stuff, drugs, booze, chain smoking, violence, and all the other things that have driven writers over the years to fuel the creativity and put a little fire in the belly. And none of it works all that well. And now I am a alcoholic, killed millions of brain cells, am temping cancer and have been in more fights then has been necessary. I am getting some stuff done and down on paper, but the pace is a bit slow. So theres that stuff.

And then the other thing that is eating me slowly, is my ex. Not in a “Oh, we were perfect for each other, and it was all so good” kinda way, but more of an “JESUS CREEPING CHRIST! WOULD YOU LEAVE ALLREADY” It is a maddening thing to have to live with the person who tossed you aside and is trying to keep a friendship, even though you have had zero time to process what had happened and even begin to heal and maybe find it in your heart to forgive the person. I have taken a pretty nasty tack and will not be anything close to a friend in this scene. I am not being outright evil, but I am not bending over backwards either. I am still pissed about the whole thing. Not at the loss, things end, I come to realize that a long time ago, no, I am pissed about the absolute piss poor prior planning of the thing. Jesus, you think you could have maybe found a new place to be, ya know, seeing as you dumped me? Did it not occur to you that I may be a little less than thrilled at the prospect of continuing to live with the person who tossed me aside? At this point all I can do is keep my distance and try not to give in to the urge to absolutely go berserk about how fucking unfair (as far as “fair” goes anyways) she has been in this, and how much pain is being inflicted. Truly fucking irritating. I think that at some point I should get a reward for not going completely apeshit about this. I would almost say that there are few people I know that could or would be able to handle this kinda shit without snapping like a brittle twig. So that is the state of things right now.
Angry.
Confused.
Betrayed.
Tired.
Hopeful.
Lonely.
Working.

Another Saturday, another post. This week has been something else. I have been trying to get it all kinda lined up so when I sat down to write this morning, I would have it all straight. A cohesive series of witty observations and ideas. No such fucking luck. All is chaos right now, at least in the cavern that is my head. Things with my best trouble are bad, and I fear only going to get worse. I may have to face the facts here that this is at a end and I need to figure out a way to bow out somewhat gracefully. In the history of bad timing, this is pretty much the top of the hill. I guess it remains to seen if I am going to have to pull that trigger, but it is not looking all that good. If I look at the time line of it, I can see the one or two things that I would have to done slightly differently, and I would be in a much better place I think. But, coulda, woulda, shoulda I guess is the only thing to say to that. My first regret.

This is where I get a bit soppy. This is not a usual state of mind for me, so please bear with it, and it will be over soon enough. I view being stupid over stuff like this like eating Cheetoes, I know it’s not good for me, and in the end it just leaves you empty, but it is somewhat comforting for a little while. And as long as you don’t make them your main course, but just a treat every now and then, it will all be okay. I feel like I have royally screwed the pooch on this thing. I am not usually taken to flights of fancy when it comes to the opposite sex. I actually try to be as clinical as possible. I find that it keeps you level when looking at someone as a potential partner. Keeping the rosy shit to a minimum lets you see who they actually are, and you can make a better choice. Gives you a shot at longevity. In a nut shell, don’t think with your genitalia and things will work out better. Trust me. My parents thought with their naughty bits, and we have all seen the results of that. But I think I got caught off guard in this scenario. I wanted that one time where, you beat the odds (which almost NEVER happens) where you meet someone, and it is a instant connection, and that you are the only two in the world. Stupid movie type shit.

But I so know better. That does not happen. Ever. Well, not to me anyways. It is always weird, but never that sort of instant connection. Except for this time. And now the whole thing seems to be unraveling at light speed. And there is fuck all I can do about it. Damnit. Nothing like placing a bunch of mines in your own path and then hopping merrily forward. And then being shocked when you loose your legs. Stupid is what I would call that. Big ole’ bucket of stupid. But even worse, there is that germ of pointless hope that is sitting somewhere in my mind that is saying “Maybe”. Perhaps there is a chance after all. Gah. As someone said to me a few days ago, “I wish I could just see the future already, it would make things SO much easier. Not like years into the future, just a few months would be fine.” No shit.

As for the non-boo-hoo-poor-adam type stuff. Loads of writing getting done. Zombie Screenplay 2nd draft-Done. Finishing Last(C) Screenplay-Well on it’s way. The ever present book-Being polished. Hand-Better. But still kinda broken and sore, but I can at least type with a bit more accuracy then a week ago. I don’t look like I am trying to type with boxing gloves on.

Blah…I got shit to do.