Doom & Gloom

I’m in for a treat today.

Not often does my lovely home in The Valley of the Sun get a gloomy day that isn’t part of a dust storm or violent monsoon. Might even get some god damn rain.

It’s the perfect kind of day to put on a pot of coffee and sit back with a nice book, but I’m not sure I’ll be able to do take advantage of that today. I got less than three hours of sleep, have some time-sensitive obligations.

I’m not sure the coffee will even work.

Last night, the wife and I got home from our local watering-hole around midnight. Usually, on a work night, we’d both settle in to our nightly routines and be conked out around 1 AM at the latest.

I shouldn’t have turned on the television.

Naturally, the station was set to the Investigation Discovery Channel, and we just happened to catch the start of a documentary about stalkers. It touched on a variety of them, but the program kicked off with the story about Christina Grimmie.

Sad and scary shit. You can read about her HERE.

My wife has this personal rule: No fucked up documentaries, movies, shows, etc. after 10 PM for her. She has stuck with that rule for as long as we have been together (pushing a decade), but even she was enthralled by it.

So it’s about 1 AM and the show is about to end, until they a announce a Part Two where they confront some of the stalkers we’ve learned about in the previous hour…


Let’s just say I didn’t lay my head down until close to 2:30 AM.

Now, I’m not one to have nightmares or bad dreams, but last night was different. I was in that void somewhere between asleep, aware, and awake — never fully reaching a complete restful state. The whole night, I had the feeling that someone was watching me through my window. I had little dream blurbs where this same person (which I never saw, but felt their presence) was observing me doing the daily mundane things do.

Then my alarm went off at 6 AM, I went to work, and now I currently want to die.

Silver-lining: I think I got a pretty good story idea out of it.

Which means I’m gonna jam my gloomy day tunes and do a little writing sprint to get the gist of the story down.

But first! Everything needs a soundtrack.

This is the soundtrack to my gloomy days. Let the thunderous lows dig themselves deep into your gut and the eerie, but beautiful, vocals pockmark your flesh with goosebumps while the foreboding melodies extract the creativity from your brain.


I Guess It’s Time



For awhile now, I’ve been meaning to start a blog and update it weekly, but I never seemed to get around to it, but New Year New Me, right?

What provoked me to actually start it was a blog post from a writer buddy, William Marchese. You can read it here:

To sum it up, he spoke about the daily grind and asked the question, “But does it sometimes make you want to throw in the towel? 

I thought about it. And I responded on Twitter:

I just think, “What the fuck else would I be doing with my life?” And the answer is: Instead of being miserable and productive—I’d just be miserable and bored.

But, I didn’t want to leave it at a little quip of a response. I feel like this topic is a good “starting point” for this blog thing. So here we go…

Fuck No.

Sure, I’ll have my bouts of doubt, but isn’t that what makes us human? The day I meet a person with no self-doubt, is the day I start preparing for androids to take over the world–because they’re not a real person.

Or they are, but they are a sociopath and I’ll probably be murdered shortly after.

I see creativity, or the need to create, like a disease. It can be crippling at times. People with that disease (you know if you have it) run a high risk for burn out. Yet, when we decide to give ourselves a “day off”, all we can think about is the next story, the next idea, the next song, the next whatever… Then we feel guilty for not pursuing it at that moment.

And that moment you finish that story, that song, that whatever, that little spark of satisfaction becomes your addiction. You’ve just signed a contract. You’ve just put on your running shoes, vowing to chase that high for the rest of your life.

You have fabricated something out of nothing. You have latched onto a fleeting thought and, to the best of your ability, molded it into something you can share with the world.

Sure. Maybe the world won’t like what you’re sharing.

Sure. Maybe you won’t make a living out of it.

So. Fucking. What?

Remember when I said creativity is a disease? Well, that story you just wrote, that song you just composed, that image in your head you finally put on canvas… That was a tumor you have just extracted from your body. Relish the moment before another one takes its place.

If you quit now, what will you do?

Work a dead-end job for the rest of your life? Probably.

But here is what would really happen: Two, five, ten years down the road and that itch to create hasn’t gone away, and you’re going to curse the day you decided to quit because all you did was lose time, lose practice, and miss opportunities.

Creation hurts. It is grueling and painful and exhausting. Just ask your mother when she gave birth to you.

Life imitates art, art imitates life.

Get back to the god damn grind!

Put on a fresh pot of coffee, strap yourself to your chair, and hunker down. It’s going to be a long, arduous life.

With that (and since I mentioned androids earlier), here is a song from my favorite band about Philip K. Dick’s Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? (aka Blade Runner)