blog: an online diary; a personal chronological log of thoughts published on a Web page; typically updated daily, blogs often reflect the personality of the author. shortened form of Weblog. usage: blog, blogged, blogging (v), blogger (n).

I generally consider myself a short story writer, an occasional essayist and, though rarely, a poet. but I'm switching formats: this is a vaguely autobiographical account with fictional elements. I'm hoping that I can find some sort of RELIEF. from art, from expectations, from myself! I think (hope) that if I have a place where I can JUST WRITE and not look over my own shoulder every single goddamn minute, I might find some freedom to be creative.

peace.

which brings me (daily) to what cary tennis said last night, he said, "one of the truly eye-opening things I have discovered in my ongoing quest to become just a little bit less insane is this: just how cruelly I have regarded myself in the past. It took some doing to see that what I took to be normal and balanced male self-regard was actually, given my emotional requirements, an almost debilitatingly harsh and unforgiving litany of self-criticism and self-rebuke."

now that sounds familiar.

I make myself wait all day to read cary tennis. my delayed gratification skills are honed to near-perfection. It's a sign of maturity, I've heard. and it's a (perhaps THE) highlight of my day, reading his column. I've written a song, several blog entries and one short story as a result of inspiration that's come from his writing. I believe I like him as much as I like steve earle.

came home and my room had flooded. well, not actually flooded, but wet enough that the carpet made squishy sounds when I walked across it. came home with the wild and intense desire to CREATE ART and nothing, absolutely nothing came out. one morning I slept until 11. that should have been a clue that I was tired. but I can never be that - tired. that's too ordinary and trite. so I pushed and pushed but nothing, still.

when I was in puerto vallarta with my parents for a week, I got quite tan and very relaxed, so I don't think I was being unrealistic when I anticipated producing new work. and I also found the paintings of jennifer brockmann there, which made me believe, truly, in painting again. after mexico, I stopped over in LA for a few days to spend christmas with J&M, and was there when she unwrapped the box in her stocking and found the ring and said, Yes! now how many moms-in-law get to witness that!

so that was my three week vacation, which was wonderful, but I, naturally, don't feel I deserved it considering I've done nothing since.

then, I was supposed to go on some dates and I blew that all off too. chris a. showed up to the airport to pick me up and I didn't know he was coming and I wanted to get in a cab and go straight home and get to the mac store and pick up my computer. but no, he wants to go to breakfast. and I said, no, I want to go home. it's eight o'clock in the morning, I got to the hotel at midnight and had to be at the airport at four and that was after waiting for my flight for hours before it was finally cancelled.

then, a few days later on the phone, he just had to suggest that I should be livid (his exact word) with my landlord because of the water leaking. now wouldn't that be a good strategy. first off, I'm already blocked so adding a bunch of rage to the equation wouldn't be real smart, and secondly, what good would that do? get mad at mike? what's he going to do about it besides knock a hole in the wall, smear henry's in the crack (in the pouring rain) and apologize over and over for something he had no control over in the first place.

then later, being the moron that he is, he brings it up again, the whole livid bullshit so I had to say good GRIEF, man. I'm not even livid over the cookies our government saw fit to drop on our computers. I am, however, getting livid over the pentagon's study of body armor and how having it could have saved the lives of 80 PERCENT OF OUR MARINES who died of torso injuries, but jesus christ, CALM DOWN!

chris a. was out, anyway. actually he was never "in." I really couldn't deal with his nissan infinity. too much excess. I hate showoffs.

I'm not even trying to solve any of the big problems right now, not my own, my household's, surely not this country's. haven't even really read the news since the election and of course, no tv. I'm only trying to answer some of the small questions. I'm merely trying to write ONE GOOD SENTENCE.

I've maxed out on journals, at least for the time being; they're stacked in boxes in my closet, and some I've been reading lately, checking the facts, but they're packed with so much old emotion it's exhausting. I'm using them as reference material, though, because I've forgotten many, many things! and my short story writing hasn't hit the skids or anything that bad but I have three stories with no endings and I'm beating my head against the wall.

in the meantime, I've got this blog and the apple music store and some compilations given as gifts, all in all about 300 new songs so I'm busy with that.

man I hope this year doesn't suck.