somewhere in the middle

So what have I been up to lately?

Well, for starters I'm working at a movie post-production house, scanning film negatives into a computer so that digital airbrushers and retouchers ("dustbusters", as they are known in the industry) can adjust colors, remove motes of dirt, and add visual/lighting effects.

I work at night, which is how I like it. The job affords me enough free time to work on my novel, surf online, and read books.

You might be asking yourself right now, How the fuck does he get these jobs where he just sits around and does seemingly nothing for hours on end? In this case, Wolf Man hooked me up, but I think fate and serendipity have a lot to do with it as well.

It's not as financially fulfilling as the last gig, but it pays more than the radio gig I left to do the last gig... so I guess it's the porridge that's just right, not too hot, not too cold...

Moreover, I am learning about movies, which is cool because although I like cinema I've never really been a cinephile. All of my old group of friends were cinephiles, but they ended up accepting what life handed to them... and here I am, working a job they would've killed to have had they not forfeited their dreams for bland security and shiftless mediocrity.

Realizations like that are what keeps me believing that not only is there a God, but that he is just.


*/*


I stopped smoking pot for the most part.

However, I've been sniffing cocaine, as evidenced by my Las Vegas adventures.

Moving from one drug to another is always a lousy trade, especially if you go from a relatively benign recreational drug to a potentially lethal party drug.

But you have to understand something...

I was sick of being stoned 24/7. I think the cocaine use is a symptom of my refusal to be hazy and slow all the time. Cocaine is the total opposite of pot in terms of the high.

But I can only take the coke high for so long before I get sick of it. It's like being held by the throat by someone who is lifting you off the ground: you might get buzzed from the lack of air but eventually it's going to harm you.

Somewhere in the middle of coke and weed is where I want to be. That middle ground, in my opinion, is complete sobriety-- a state of mind I am in more often than not these days.

You see, coke is expensive. And I can't do it all the time the way I used to do with weed, so in the long run I am actually spending considerably less money on coke than I ever did on weed.

Plus, I've always been wired without needing coke. That's why I smoked pot, to calm me down and mellow me out. Coke only serves to remind me that I am already coked out naturally and biologically.

I confine my coke use to the weekends, because I found out that I cannot make it through a work shift on the stuff. I don't see how people can go to work and sniff coke, because you need it every half an hour and that only compounds the fact that you've got so much more time to go before you can go home and finish off the bag.

Bottom line: All drugs are losing bets. I make no excuses for my coke use. But I think that's a step up from making up tons of excuses for my pot smoking.


*/*


Call me a Scrooge, I don't care. I'm just sick of Christmas.

It's for kids. Therefore, I will only buy gifts for little ones this season.

I'm not buying full-grown adults any gifts. Even if they act like little children, they're not getting a fucking thing from me.

Likewise, I don't want any gifts from anyone. If someone gets me a gift, I will seriously look at them and say, "No, take it back. PLEASE." And if they think I'm being falsely modest, I will make sure to conveniently "forget" the gift before I leave their home.

And if they force me to take it, then I will "re-gift" it.

I don't want gifts because I never get what I want. I haven't received a really good Christmas gift since I was a kid. And the fact that (in recent years) no one has ever gotten me a Christmas gift that made my face light up is proof that I am better off not getting anything at all.

A better gift would be to spend time with me, talking to me, asking me about my hopes and dreams. That would cost nobody anything, and it would make me happier than a thousand gift cards and $20 certificates. It would fit more snugly than a million sweaters. It would taste better than any candy cane or chocolate stocking stuffer.

The thing of it is: A thoughtless gift is an alienating experience for me. It says to me loud and clear, "Hey! I don't know who you are, and have never tried to understand you, but I'd like to think that I know you, so here is my interpretation of what I think you like!"

It's always disappointing. No one ever nails it.

I'm a good gift-giver, for the most part. And until someone gets as good as me, I'm not getting anybody anything. If they want a gift from me, they'll have to get down on their knees and suck it out of me.


*/*


I need to finish the novel.

I am trapped in a parrallel universe that I created for my characters.

I am constantly reliving the events of the novel, which are based upon my own life.

And yet, as I edit and re-shape the text, I sense that I still have more to write.

I have more events to live that will eventually be written into the novel.

Weird.

It's as if I am willing my novel into existence by experiencing it.

Which comes first: the experience, or the articulation of that experience?

Laurie, who is helping me edit this damned thing that has taken a decade to grapple, is concerned that I am doing too much living and not enough working.

But for a writer, the life is the work. Therefore, the two are inseparable.

I do know that I have to finish it up, just so I can grow as a person and move on.

Thus, I know what I have to do, and I have already taken the necessary measures to kick start the last phase of my writing.

And it starts in San Diego, where a young woman lives with her husband and two kids, wondering where certain people she used to know went and if they think of her and whether or not she made the right choices or not...

And there I am, playing the metaphysical detective, taking all the clues of life's mysteries and jigsaw-puzzling them together into one glorious bastard tapestry.

If y'all don't hear from me before year's end, have a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.

And if you are fiending for some of my writing (as if) then just look to a year ago in my Archives and look at what was on my mind. You'll be surprised.