I Am a Monument to All Your Sins

This is something I started writing some months ago, but I never finished it.  I’m just going to leave this here as is.

I had a dream where I was trying desperately and unsuccessfully to get Milo Yiannopoulos to keep his clothes on.

You know, I’ve never really had what I’d called a “Writer’s Block” problem before.  Sometimes I was at a loss for ideas, but I was always able to get things on a page.  But recently, just looking at my own writing evokes a preternatural terror I can neither relate nor understand.  To be honest, I don’t think this is something that others haven’t experienced before, and I don’t think it’s a phenomenon specific to writing; anything you do as your primary vocation might be able to elicit this reaction.  The really interesting question is “Why?”

I am so fucking far ahead of my work schedule, you wouldn’t believe me if I told you.  I’m pushing two year’s of content completed that is completely unreleased.  There can be no anxiety about the deadline; I’m not even willing to consider that possibility.

I have been knocked down a few pegs.  A good part of my job is marketing my own work, and several of the platforms I had historically used to that end have shifted me off, leaving me high and dry and keeping my money anyways.  I still am unsure about how to deal with the marketing side of things.  Thing is, I don’t have any difficulty doing marketing research; so why would that effect my writing only?

I don’t know.  I feel like I am an unwilling explorer in the vast depths of human emotion, places most people in their lives will never go, long lost caverns littered with the scribblings of strange tongues.  I already knew that writers were unpleasant people, but I still refuse to believe it is a result of the vocation, rather that writing invites certain types into its fold.  I wonder how many such letters go forever unreported.

I was watching Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas again recently.  It’s a film I’ve watched many times–perhaps over a dozen.  I never got it, as a kid.  I wonder if I really should have been watching it, as a kid.  The loss of meaning is so tangible in characters that eke out a miserable existence in narcotics and alcohol and all the fury that entails.  It was a difficult watch recently, never was before.

 

Update: Week of July 24, 2017

I’ll keep it short and sweet.  Looks like additional content for the upcoming 2 books will be finished on time.  As regards how long the editing, I cannot here comment faithfully, but things are looking nice.

I’ve been thinking about what are the essential themes of the various things I’ve written.  Goliath Thunder is about many things, but among them are the conception of family and the distinction between self and universe.  Something else I’ve written but haven’t published is fundamentally about sexual politics and competition.

The Consequence of Connected

Something I’ve heard from the mouths of people that typically espouse Green Party beliefs, people that typically indulge in the abusive use of recreational drugs in spite of the harm it’s done to nations like Mexico and Colombia, is that we are all connected, we are all part of a gigantic whole, not merely us and the rest of mankind, but with us and all things that live, all part of an interconnected web where anything we do and suffer is shared in some form universally.

Truth is, you can make a good argument that much of what’s being said is self-evident–pure cause and effect; the question is more specifically a matter of extent, what’s termed in the legal world as “proximate cause.”

Now, I don’t think most people that espouse this viewpoint do so out of malice; most of them are just helpless stoners, but I do think that they haven’t taken this attitude to its natural end.  Specifically, if we are not atomized and are rather a natural collective, I’m just as responsible for you as I am for me, and we both have a vested interest in each other.  This means I have some right to control your behavior beyond merely what I’d term the “proximate cause.”  If, for example, I can show conclusively that a reproduction deficit is a social ill, I could very well take away your right to not only abortion but perhaps even contraception.  I could even compel you to procreate against your will.

What I mean to show is “what sounds good,” may very well be monstrous, often without that intention, often without even malice