1) Yes, I haven’t written publicly since Agent Orange got elected. Does that mean I haven’t tried? No. I simply didn’t have the words strung together to put up anything worthwhile. Writer’s block. A few ideas came flitting in and out of my brain and that’s where it stopped. Hell, even the thought of, “I’d like to write.” That was predominant in my head for the past 3 or so years, but nothing. If the muse isn’t there; you’re straight fucked.
2) Time. Shit excuse you might be thinking, but that’s a big one. I moved back to Seattle the spring after Dip Shit got in office, (years and dates evade me), and retired completely from all things freelance, modeling, performing and entertainment. That was my life besides writing for as long as I could remember. I took a salary job that gave me no time off. I fought with my punk rock demons about being a sell out and a slave to the man. I was always busy, always stressed out, angry and my health went to shit. After a few ER visits and my system tanking from stress and no sleep or eating right from working 70+ hours a week, two years into it I quit my job, applied to law school, (existential crisis), got denied for being underprivileged and historically disadvantaged… Whatever that means. Well, I’ll tell you what that means, I didn’t have money anymore, my resume wasn’t “professional” enough, I wrote publicly on my addiction and I’ve got 13 mug shots… Which is funny, Cinco de Mayo is tomorrow which marks the last time I got arrested, somebody stole my drugs, bad idea, I didn’t react well, but I digress. Anyway, I got a marketing gig, I have a silver tongue so I figured I could make some more money, not that the salary job was bad cash wise, less than NYC, but fuck it. Turns out it was some pyramid scheme shit and while I could market the hell out of things, my paychecks were trash. So I quit and went back to my old job and rebuilt my green. It was still shit. I was stressed and pissed off still, 3 years of that. Then I made a change. I moved. Took a risk and picked up my shit and moved to Knoxville, TN. I could try a new crack at life here and on my last fight back from visiting to try to get an apartment and failing I was able to start 4th book on the plane. Absolute despair will break the cycle. Which leads to number three.
3) I was only running on one or two emotions for 3 years. Anger or Burnout, I don’t know if that’s an emotion, but we can chalk it up to Apathy if that blows your skirt up more. For me, as a creative, I can’t write under only one predominant emotion. Especially Anger. I can get ideas to write on, but not the time or wherewithal to put it into words besides shit, fuck, fuck this, shoot me, fucking christ or god dammit. And then Apathy/Burnout, when you feel nothing but try to recoup or ground. The muse hides away in a corner and is basically set on fire, waiting for something to come out of the ashes. So since that fire had already been set and died out I set my past life on fire as well. Why not. I created a huge upset in what I knew, which wasn’t worth a pot to piss in and tried a hard restart. Not just to get my muse back but to get back into the occult, start a new life, get back into grounding work and find some semblance of peace and purpose.
So here we are. How did I get it back? Setting everything you know on fire creates a massive black hole. Makes you question your past, your life, the new one you want to make and is a gargantuan shit disturber in all things solid. Even if the solid is shit, it’s a routine and you know it. As a highly methodical person, I knew what I was in for. Or at least I thought I did. A hard ass rebuild.
But as soon as I got here, got a car, got a job, got my shit put away we got in the shit storm of this COVID crap we’re in now. I’m fortunate to be able to work from home and not have to grind away like my past 3 years off hell, but not being able to settle, know which way is up and what the fuck is going to happen when we come out of this stirred the muse.
For it’s in absolute despair, distain, uprooting and upheaval that she appears. When I feel I’ve lost all control and am vigorously and violently searching for a how and a why and to get my shit settled and on track that’s when. Who knows when that will be, (getting some semblance of grounding and answers), but… I got what I asked for. The muse came back, more intense than before. Sometimes regular insanity is enough to get the cogs out of the gears, but total and utter insanity is what drives the creative at full speed. It’s like ripping five lines of pure speed versus a few stepped on ones. And if that analogy is lost on you, that’s probably a good thing. Drugs are bad for you… Stick your vitamins and supplements, kids.
I’ve gone on enough today, not the most exciting but fuck it, the backstory had to be told, at least the cliff notes. I’ve got a long list of things to spew on so I promise; this is the only dull one you’ll get. Society is a mess. People are still shits, there’s still a battle going on with being an addict even after almost 9 years clean, and I’m irritated on a multitude of things. Most of them you might be able to relate to. But the purpose in my writing as always, isn’t just to hawk negativity and bitch, but to shed light on situations and how to get through them and pull the good out of the mess and move forward and thrive. So get your tools ready for battle and I’ll be walking beside you soon, give me a week. No one is in this alone. Unless you’re an asshole, then you’re on your own, Bucko…
Until next time…