Sick and tired of being sick and tired!

I’ve had it!
I’ve been wrestling with this writer’s block for the last couple of months and it’s still been sticking to me like a bad summer cold. And all that’s come from me trying to wait it out is a case of self loathing that would make Dan Harmon grab me by the shoulders and yell, “SNAP OUT OF IT!”.
So the new plan is this. In lieu of not writing, I’m going to try writing.
One post a day for the next month.
Needless to say, at this point, I’m not making any promises about quality or length. Hell, if I can actually throw down a post that has words as opposed to random keystrokes, I’m calling it a win.
So bear with me here. The next month is going to get very, very bumpy.

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Not drowning…but not quite waving.

Nobody heard him, the dead man,
But still he lay moaning:
I was much further out than you thought
And not waving but drowning.

Poor chap, he always loved larking
And now he’s dead
It must have been too cold for him his heart gave way,
They said.

Oh, no no no, it was too cold always
(Still the dead one lay moaning)
I was much too far out all my life
And not waving but drowning.

“Not Waving but Drowning” by Stevie Smith. (1957.)

I could say the lack of updates are because of other other projects but I’d be lying.
I could say it’s because there’s nothing to write about but with nine different kinds of holy hell going on, that would be a lie posing as a sick joke.
There’s a reason that updates haven’t been forthcoming and it’s this.
I haven’t felt like writing.
It’s that simple…and not that simple.

Anyone who’s followed this blog regulary knows that I’ve had periods of inactivity. But I’ve always managed to pull my shit together and get back on the grind.
But this year,  that just hasn’t been happening.
And when I say I haven’t felt like writing, I don’t mean I haven’t tried.
I mean that when I sit down and try to write…I can’t.
It’s not just that nothing has been coming. It’s more like when I try, my brain calcifies and nothing moves.
And I’ve been dealing with this for the past month.  And it’s beginning to feel like it’s not going to pass.  It’s like when you get the flu and it feels like you’ve always been sick and you will always be sick.
Except there’s no vomiting.
But at this point vomiting would be welcome because at least there would be some sort of cathartic purge that would signal an end to this.
(And to everyone saying “Well, you’re writing this so you must be getting better”, this post has been sitting in my draft box for about a week.)

This is starting to scare me.
Whatever else has gone wrong in my life, I have always had writing to fall back on.
If I lose this, I don’t know what I have left.

I can’t tell you when this will pass.  I can only tell you that I want it to pass.
Please be patient with me.
Hopefully, I am not drowning.

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A LULU of a situation.

-It appears that I have a profile on a dating app called Lulu.
I did not ask for one.  I received no notice that there was one. It just seemed to appear out of the ether. Not unlike the Candyman when you speak his name five times.
For those not in the know, I should explain. Lulu is an app that allows women to post reviews of men who they believe might make either good or bad boyfriend material. Kind of a Yelp for Men.
And apparently, if you have a Facebook profile, you’re on it.
And by the time I discovered the existence of this thing, I had been viewed by nine women and liked by three. (The count is now Eleven and Four.)
Now, upon learning about this, I was presented with two options.  I could either contact Lulu and ask them to delete me from their app. Or I could just roll with it.
I chose the latter.
I’m no idiot. Anything that increases my chance to engage in some adult style hand holding, I’m going to take a crack at it.
And before you start in how how undignified an app where women rate men in, let me remind you of two things.
One: Men have been rating women for years. In locker rooms, men’s magazines and the staging of beauty pageants. I say, what’s good for the goose is sauce for the gander. Or words to that effect.
Two: Screw dignity! I use Tinder.
Dignity is for men who’s amount of intercourse exceeds once every six months.

-So, I download the App and proceeded to fill out my profile.  I added a couple of extra photos and clicked on all the proper hashtags. Apparently, I cannot add my own text so I need to choose from a number of pre-written hashtags to the profile.

#Holdsdoor. #Cancook. #WillsSeeRomComs. #CleanBillOfHealth.

As you can see, I’m clearly playing to my strengths.

As far as using hashtags to describe what I’m looking for in a woman, I think I did a reasonable job of balancing my desire for a woman who has a strong, Independent streak….

#SpeaksHerMind. #CouldKickMyAss. #ScarySmart. #FreeSpirit. #Confident.

With my equal desire for a woman who likes the sexy time.

#FreakySide. #DirtyTalk. #GivesMassages. #Bi.

And yes, I am aware the last hashtag is pushing my luck. But honestly, I’m in the mood to push it.  (However, I am relived that I did not choose #LikesToGiveBJs which I believe is code for #BewareHereYeBeDouchebags. Not that I have anything against Blow jobs.  But that sets up an expectation for blow jobs that smacks of Male Entitlement and that doesn’t sit well with me. It’s one thing to hope for a blow job, it’s an entirely different matter to except them as your birthright.)

And as yet another chapter of “Middle Aged Nerd Tries to Find Love or a Reasonable Facsimile Therein” begins to be written.
Personally, I’m hoping for a happy ending.

Posted in cry for help, Personal Stuff, Sex, Uncategorized | Tagged | Leave a comment

An update on GLENGARRY GLEN STYX: REDUX.

I’ve been sitting on this news for about a weekend a half.  I already posted a brief note on my Facebook page but I do need to pass it on to my non-FB friends.
I got the word from The Ashland Independent Film Festival. “GLENGARRY GLEN STYX: REDUX” was not accepted.
I won’t lie.  I wasn’t all that surprised.
As I’ve said before, I’m happy about how it came out given both the then level of my expertise and the one day shooting schedule.
However, looked at with a cold and clinical eye, I can understand why it wasn’t accepted. There are flaws baked into the filmmaking that may have knocked it out of consideration. (I shot the short with the camera on Automatic and I can tell you that there were overexposure issues that led to a lot of color correction. Because of my actor’s schedules, rehearsals weren’t possible. Etc.)
The good news is that I know how to fix these problems for the next short.
The bad news is that as of right now, I have no new short.

Long time followers of this blog may have noticed that my output since the beginning of this year has been…to use the most polite term…spotty.
That’s because I have been wrestling with a case of writer’s block that would make Barton Fink blanch.
It’s not even that I haven’t even gotten any new ideas.  It’s just that the ideas seem to die inside my head every time I try to put fingers to keyboard.
And honestly, I don’t know when it’s going to break.

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Daddy has been woolgathering…

Yeah.  I know. No posting.
The truth is that all the insane crap that’s been happening this month, (Rumblings of another Debt Limit fight. Net Neutrality getting kicked it the nuts. Hedge fund guy comparing the fight against income inequality to Kristallnacht. Huckabee Vs. Libidos. Etc.) has caused my brain to freeze up something fierce.
I think I’ve reached peak outrage.
Seriously, after years of blogging about the various outrages that pass my eyeballs, I can safely say that I am burned out on writing about politics.
That’s not to say I’m burned out on politics.  I still keep up on the news via various sources (BBC. NPR. MSNBC. TheKos. Etc.) I still throw money at causes I believe in and sign petitions whenever possible.
But writing about politics…
Honestly, I Don’t want to say Never Again because that never works out.  (Not to mention the State of the Union is tomorrow and this is an election year and so it’s all hands on deck.) But I also have other parts of my garden that needs tending.  I need to finish the script for my next short. (And when I say “Finish” I mean “Start”.) I need to tend to the other blog.  You know the one at the place where I’m flogging my book. Not mention a half a dozen other things of a personal nature.
So, I’m not saying “Never”, I’m just saying “Be Patient”.
(It should be noted that I’m not the only one who’s feeling the burn. In response to someone asking about whether he intends to blog about politics again, John Rogers responded that every political blog post he started for the last five years could be boiled down to the phrase “Fuck you, Johnny Reb”.)

So bear with me. Please.

Posted in E-Book, Hope, Lifestyle adjustment, Personal Stuff, Politics | Tagged , | Leave a comment

Bryan Fischer: One plot of land, One vote.

So I’m checking my Facebook feed this afternoon and I come across this...

“You know, back in the day, in the colonial period,” Fischer said, “you have to be a landowner, a property owner to be eligible to vote and I don’t think that’s a bad idea. And the is very simple: if somebody owns property in a community, they’re invested in the community. If they’re renters, they’re going to be up and gone; they could leave the next day … [P]eople that are not property owners – it’s like people that pay no taxes, they have no skin in the game. They don’t care about the same things that somebody does who is rooted in the community”

Well, I gotta say, as a man who has lived in Ashland, Oregon since 1990 and has rented in all that time and voted in many local, state and federal elections, I was personally shocked to discovered that I have no roots in my community.
Actually, that’s a lie.
What I’m really shocked about is that in the fourteenth year of the twenty-first century, someone who actually have the Goddamn stones to suggest that we restrict the act of voting, the cornerstone of a representative Government, to landed gentry!
It should be noted that according to the most recent census data, over 35% of Americans currently rent their homes. So to use Dr. Fischer’s logic, 35% of the American public has no skin in the game when it comes to our communities.
Bullshit!
We do care that we have adequate police protection.
We do care that our air is clear and our drinking water isn’t some sort of gelatanous  sludge. (Paging West Virginia.)
We care that we have affordable health care because we don’t want to be stuck with the choice of having to pay for a doctor’s visit or rent.
We do care that our schools can teach our children.
If Doctor Fischer honestly believes that we who rent have no skin in the game, then he is clearly fuzzy on the concept of “Skin”.

Posted in American Fascism, Civil Liberties, Great Depression 3.0, Politics, Religion | Tagged , | Leave a comment

Writer’s Block: The Mind struggles while The Heart grieves.

Okay, I’ll admit it.  This has not been a productive two weeks.
No posts this year since the first one promising that I’d pick up the pace. And in that two weeks, I’ve started about a half a dozen posts that I’ve wound up abandoning for various reasons. But mostly because I felt like my writing sucked.
But then I’d feel guilty and try again.  And then I’d quit again. And feel guilty.  And then try…
Well…you see the problem.

To make matters worse, I promised Michael Meyer that I’d have a new piece for him for the next round of readings at Paschel for Valintine’s Day.  But the piece imploded on me halfway through the writing and now I feel like shit because of that.
To be honest, I haven’t written a new comedy piece since December 2012. (Karl Rove, Dick Morris and The Ghost of Christmas Past.) And if I intend to get some new shorts in the pipe line, I need to start generating more scripts.

Part of me is bginning to wonder if it’s something neurological.
I don’t mean like a tumor or anything.  But since I got the Canon, I’ve been focusing a lot of time on photography.
(Hell, I even started a second Tumblr just to showcase it.)  And I’m starting to wonder if my growning skills with a camera are somehow retarding my writing skills?  Maybe one side of my brain is getting stronger while the other side gets weaker?
If that’s true, within six months I’ll be shooting like Ansel Adams but talking like Sarah Palin.
That does not strike me as an improvement.

So, bear with me as I work though this.  I just refilled my St. John’s Wort so maybe that’ll take the edge off of this and I can finally get back to work.
But honestly, at this point, I’m dubious.

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