I heard a long time ago that if the conditions are right, a person can drown in a few inches of water. I think about that fact – if it is a fact – often. Doesn’t matter how I’m feeling; I just…think about it.
I don’t mind all that much. Death doesn’t scare me. It probably should but I’ve already done it and it’s not bad.
I know that I think about drowning not for the death element, but for its metaphorical potential. What, besides water, do we drown in?
Well, lots. Obviously. It’s not exactly an unexplored thread.
There is not much point to this post. I’m not interested in writing about my circumstances or anyone else’s. But I thought about drowning in a puddle again, and I needed to exorcise that spiral.
Recommendations:
Music: Jason Isbell’s new album came out. Some of it is good, some of it is disappointingly bro-y. “Bury Me” is great. Very stripped down.
Currently reading: Words are My Matter, Ursula K Le Guin (I love her collections, even when they’re dry.)
Bought a subscription to the NY Times because if I’m going to read about sad stuff, might as well have it be written well.
With the next four years looking confusing and concerning, I figured I should turn on my marketing brain and try to write something sellable. In general, I love what I write. I follow my interests. But I’ve only got my one job, and diversifying my income seems like a good idea.
That said, I’m only one person and diversifying means more work, work that I don’t know if I have time for. And so I am looking at the things I can change, things I can make work for me. I know that with writing, I might be able to pivot and maybe, just maybe, be able to sell whatever comes of it.
My first instinct is to turn to genre fiction – maybe romance. Who knows? The last time I tried to write romance it did not go well. That said, I was writing a boring, hyper-straight couple because I thought I wanted to sell my soul. I’m not going to do that, this time.
Or I could get back to music reviews. I did that for years; there might be opportunities there.
I’ll keep you updated on my progress. I’m frightened. I do not like that these posts are getting more personal as time goes on, but it’s difficult to separate myself from, well, everything else. It takes effort to stay objective, and most of my effort is going into staying sane.
Recommendations:
Music: Sugar in the Tank, Julien Baker/TORRES (folk/indie rock)
It took me a long time to realize I worked harder than most other people. That’s the thing about neurodiversity: though you feel different than everyone else, you also believe that what you’re experiencing is common. Normal, even. When I was young I thought I was just sad or something, not inherently unsuited for the world around me. Turns out it was the latter, but I did okay regardless.
I worked really hard.
I work hard at my job but also at pretending to be normalish. These days I’m bad at it. My personality leaks out because I’m tired of being miserable, which is why people think I’m smart. Needing to mask is why I love to learn (I had to like it if I was going to pretend to be another person all the time) and it’s why I’m good at pretending to be likable.
I don’t mask as violently as I did before leaving the agency world, but I still find it easy to manipulate my personality.
Part of that is all the acting I did when I was young and some of it is the nature of the marketing industry. Drop a few (relevant) keywords into a conversation and you can make anyone feel important.
It all sounds wildly manipulative but it’s not like I disliked these people. Often it was the opposite; I wanted them to like me for reasons beyond the professional.
A friend once told me I was scary after I explained all this (to be fair, I didn’t articulate myself well). Though I understand their response, I disagree.
They’re neurotypical. They don’t understand what I mean, really. It’s not malicious; it’s just how I operate. I think there are a lot of ways neurodivergent people can interact with society’s rules. One of them is that they catalog neurotypical behaviors, learn them, and strategically choose what they want to indulge. That’s what I do.
Steeping myself in the psychology of marketing was helpful, but I think all the acting I did was the thing that made me good at it. ‘Cause I sound like this in my head. You can’t sound like this out loud unless you want to out yourself as a nerd. And in some places, speaking like this will make you unapproachable. Granted, that can be helpful, but you don’t want an ice queen reputation all the time.
A colleague said to a group of interns once, while passing my office, “She’s really cool, but she’s not going to talk to you.”
Part of me was proud because I felt all mysterious, but it did make me realize I had to go to happy hour at some point. Minnesota is weird.
Nice doesn’t mean kind, there. It means palatable.
This was a longer post than I expected it to be. I’m procrastinating dealing with the back end of some marketing systems which are just awful to look at.
Recommendations:
Music:
Stick with me. This is a rock/metal song. It’s got screaming in it. It’s DEFINITELY not for everyone, but I love the build. GREAT tension. This band is very fun and their music is varied.
Though it’s kind of controversial at the moment, my friend and I are going to use NaNoWriMo’s website to track our November writing spree. It’s just a good place to keep each other accountable.
Been trying to pinpoint a good way to keep the stakes high and the pressure on for the middle bit of my novel, so I’m playing around with narrative structure. Here’s a quick and dirty explanation of a few.
I’ve started Martian Time Slip and I know I’m years behind the bandwagon but I’m having fun.
Obsessed with hawthorn trees because they have berries in the winter and HUGE spikes. Picture below:
I’m not planning to keep a chronological diary here – no one needs updates on my life, but I do want to say that I’ve found a writing routine, courtesy of my lovely mother, who thought it up for me. It’s in the nighttime, which was something I hadn’t considered. I thought I’d be too tired, but it’s been fine so far.
Moms tend to be right.
Anyway, before I get to a list of things I’ve enjoyed this week, I want to ramble a little about authenticity and bodies. I’ve had a rocky relationship with my body, and it only got worse after the changes it went through due to my chronic illness, but over the last few years (and a lot of therapy), I’ve learned to listen to it better.
I’m not talking about listening to it to keep it safe – that I’m generally good at. I’m talking about listening to what feels good to wear, what kind of hairstyle makes me happy, etc. Over the years, in addition to masking my personality, I’d masked my physical self expression. I wasn’t wearing the clothes I liked, I was picking at my skin because it didn’t feel like mine, and my hair felt like a hat. It was strange but I didn’t question it, because I’d felt that way for so long.
And then, at the behest of my therapist, I started wearing boys’ clothes sometimes and I got my first tattoo. I pierced my own ears and got my bangs back. I wore big shirts so they didn’t touch my skin so much, and got rid of things with textures that made me feel gross. I didn’t realize how uncomfortable my own clothes made me until I started paying attention – listening.
What I’m saying is that you’ve got to notice the small stuff. My tattoos – several, now – make me hate my skin less. I feel less self conscious in oversized, cotton clothes. You have no idea how much those small changes positively influenced my self image.
I’m getting much too sappy – time to list some cool stuff:
Song – symptom of life by WILLOW. I am embarrassed that I was embarrassed to enjoy this. I hate when I’m pretentious for no reason; it’s not flattering. I think it stems from envy. Anyway, I’m so happy for this young person – they’re really expanding into a genre that suits them. The song is very cool.
My mom got me these cube timers and they’re so cute.
Been really into the Book Club Radio sets – a very cool series with some great DJs.
Thinking about finishing my sleeve with Cheddar at Boston Tattoo Company. They did my thigh piece and I love it.
I absolutely love Jess Owens. She’s hilarious and the best “booktuber” out there. She’s not usually drunk, but I thought this video was very funny. Jess is honest, sincere, and she’s got such a wholesome vibe. Her dog and husband are sweet, too.
Writing advice is nothing but varied. Some is bad, some is good, some works for a few people and not for others, but one sentiment is repeated constantly: find a routine. People say it differently, like “write every day,” “show up to write,” “carve out some time each week,” etc., but they all mean the same thing: stick to a schedule and do the work.
I’ve been searching for a workable writing routine for years. That search has turned up nothing. (Got advice? Please leave me some – I need it!)
That’s not to say I don’t write; I do, and often. My issue is that I can’t predict it well. I haven’t found a way to bake it in to my day/week that makes it inescapable. Writing needs to feel inevitable, because my ADHD won’t let me do it otherwise. Instead it feels like a tether, another anxiety to add to my list (that only grows as I age).
And so I try things. I’ve tried getting up early, staying up late, writing at lunch, choosing an hour in my day – or a half hour. I’ve tried cutting down my routine to 3 days/week, but I end up writing more and then feel as if I’ve screwed up the schedule. It’s clear to me that I need some structural help but I’m not sure where to go to get it.
So – I’m asking for advice, if anyone reads this far. Just…leave me something. Comments are open.
I’ve complained enough; time for a list:
Duotrope – a way to find and save literary calls for submissions that I’m very impressed with. It’s 5 dollars a month, which is kind of a steal.
Song: PISTOLWHIP, by spilltab. Really interesting vocal production and an incredible hook. Cross between indie rock and electro-pop.
Jacob reminds me of myself at my most manic – and at my best. He’s a genius to be sure, and much better at his craft than I’ll ever be at mine, but he explains things in ways that I relate to, which is a rare thing. It’s obvious he’s got intense synesthesia and maybe mild auditory hallucinations, too – just like me. 🙂
Jacob’s done incredible things with his gifts and I haven’t, which is a little sad. I wish I’d had the time/opportunities he did – maybe I’d be further along in my artistic development. But no use dwelling on it!
It’s nice to be able to experience his art, even if it is needlessly impenetrable sometimes. I think often he’s just playing with the form, ’cause when he wants to make something intensely beautiful, he does. He’s inspired me to write new music, and I’ve had moments I never would have experienced if I hadn’t listened to him talk, so I suppose I should thank him.
I’m an artist. I’ve identified myself as a writer and I am; there is no denying that and it’s my main art form. I am a musician too, and play gigs every now and then. I paint, but only abstracts, on old drop-cloth canvas from Home Depot. When I got into comics I told myself that I wouldn’t try my hand at it. I firmly made that decision. I thought that I could enjoy an art form and not partake, but here I am, buying ink and textbooks. I am doing fake art school like an asshole.
I want to be able to bring my fiction outside my body and my words, but I’m not skilled enough to drag it there. The only thing for it is practice, I guess.
I am objectively mediocre at drawing, and I don’t like being mediocre. It makes me feel sad and angry and, well, stupid. I didn’t think that picking up drawing would trigger all that but it has. I’m not even planning to release anything – not really. I suppose the problem is that I am judging myself.
I’ve mostly conquered this problem with writing, but I thought that since I don’t care about my visual art nearly as much, I’d be able to skate on past this stage. But here I am, sitting around feeling inferior and bad. I’m rather good at putting my insecurities to the side and soldiering on, so I’m not worried about art block or writer’s block, but it does mean I can’t open a comic book without sighing.
I’ve got no solution for this issue except to get better, and I know I will with time. While it happens, I know that my envy of others’ work needs to be channeled into admiration and an opportunity to learn.
Anyway, it’s time to move on. I’ve got presents:
Nan Goldin’s (photographer) “Advice to the Young,” which reflects a lot of my thoughts about artists’ needs and the world kids are inheriting from the older generation: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RlC3ym4-YaQ
The sweetest thing – Pia Crambling (Grandmaster) commentates Anna Crambling’s (her daughter) chess games at a huge tournament in Iceland. It’s so heartwarming. Pia is analyzes the game while Anna plays it, and is visibly stressed out when Anna makes moves she doesn’t agree with, but is rooting for her daughter the whole time: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i3_VCUvHDAw
Three Stanley Avenue Guest House – I stayed here a couple years ago and loved it. I’m hoping to book another trip soon. https://stanleyavenue.com/
There have been days in my life – once, two full weeks – where I felt out of time. It’s similar to dissociation but more of a disconnection. Reality remains, but it’s not solid (while dissociating, reality remains – I know where it is, but I can’t engage). For those two weeks in 2017 I felt strongly that it was actually February of 2012 and I had an essay due. I felt that, somehow, I had to get it together to write about Lord Byron and his club foot.
Februaries can be hard.
And there are days when I feel small and young, and I remember my childhood hamster. Her name was Angel and she was very mean. I kind of liked that. Her hair matched mine because it was orange (pictured at left).
I often feel very old, but that tracks with my real timeline. I am not chronologically the oldest person who’s ever lived, but my personality doesn’t quite make sense for the average 30-year-old.
I am sick. That’s why. Nothing exciting. I’m old because I’m still here and I’m cranky because no one seems to care about what is important. Unfortunately, what is important is what they say is important: family, friends, love, art, nature, experience.
Hallmark sayings and boring cliches do have substance, which I find a little frustrating.
I think you have to be old – in experience, not years – to understand them. “Be yourself,” especially. No one can tell another person to be themselves and not sound patronizing, but the moment it clicks, when you realize that you must be yourself and there is no other option – the phrase is suddenly frightening.
“Be yourself” can be an awful thing to say. It used to be for me, but now I find freedom in the phrase. It gives me permission to wear menswear and to draw monsters and to write science fiction. It allows me to stop competing with writers I admire and gives me the space to appreciate their work. Being myself is nice, and it would be even more fun if I liked my body.
But like I said, I am sick. It is hard to enjoy a body that doesn’t want you there. Sick bodies want to die, and so they’re inhospitable to the life in them. I am that life and often, I wish I weren’t. And yet I must be myself, there is no other option, I have to remain and continue to flicker my bullshit electricity over a half-dead brain.
I used to wish I weren’t sick, but you can’t do that when you pursue being authentic. If I weren’t sick I would not be this person. I think it’s unfair that she exists because suffering is an awful way to forge a personality, but I’d rather be her than be anyone else.
Anyway, I’m done talking about this. I’m going to send you home with a gift bag full of media treats:
Three Stanley Avenue Guest House (Kingsfield, ME) – I stayed here for four days a couple years ago. They have crappy wifi and there is no one in the town. It was one of the best vacations I’ve ever taken. Cheap as hell, too.
I’ve been experimenting with visual art lately. It’s made it hard to get writing done but I think it’s helping me from a creative standpoint, so maybe it’s worth the time I spend in front of clippings and paint and my new fine-line pens. I love my pens.
There are (free) online courses you can take that’ll teach you how to make comics. I’m taking one on Coursera and it’s been a good time. I don’t want to be a comic writer, but two of my characters are visual artists, and it’s been fun to get a better picture of what they’re up to.
My sketchbook is insane, which is the point of it. There’s a guitar pick taped in there somewhere.
I do wish I were better at drawing figures/characters so I could make better thumbnails for the book, but I am what I am. No use doing anything other than practicing. I’m getting better. Slowly. People get degrees in drawing – I’m not expecting to be good at it, maybe ever. Art school seems hard and though I am working in a sense, I am certainly not working toward mastery.
I’ve got two degrees in writing. I am seeking mastery, there. Awards are not my goal; I am interested in creating sincere, earnest work. I want to create something that gets at big questions using specific images and storylines. That’s what I’m working toward, and I think that goal’s realistic enough.
Here are some things:
1. This kid is a fabulous songwriter. I think he’s the new iteration of “emo” music for the youths. He doesn’t sound emo, but his vibes are emo as hell.
2. Comicazi – my local comic shop. I love Boston and I love this shop.
Writing sometimes gets me down but it happens more often when I’m less prepared. I’ve read a lot of literary fiction and creative nonfiction. I’ve even read a good amount of fantasy. But I’m writing – and most enamoured with – science/speculative fiction. I’m almost finished with a huge collection of Bradbury’s short stories and I’ve been blown away several times. His writing was – is – so inventive. Ahead of its time in many ways, and maybe even ahead of my time.
These authors, including Ursula Le Guin, Phillip K Dick, Stanislaw Lem, whatever – they’re just cool with cool ideas and next to their imaginations mine feels shriveled. Prune-sized and flavoured. Prune. Flavoured. But prunes are all right some of the time, I suppose.
Give me a day and I’ll be over this and back in a writing mood, but God is it hard not to compare oneself to other people.
That said, I find a lot of other other people boring and derivative, so focusing on geniuses is definitely a me problem.
Here’s the media I’ve been into the last couple weeks:
Comic: Kill Your Darlings (Image Comics)
Nick Drake – just revisiting him, he’s great. I put on Pink Moon every few days just to feel something.
James Ensor, painter. I also quite like this YouTube channel – Blind Dweller. Seems like a nice guy who’s just really into art.
When I think of a blog I think of the ancient site Blogger and its orange branding. It’s still around, I think, though I haven’t checked because if it isn’t, I’d rather not know.
The point of this blog is to be like those blogs, by which I mean: bad. I thought about creating a Substack like a real writer but I’ve got no bandwidth to add another time-sensitive responsibility to my list.
Work, my neglected magazine, and my personal writing are enough. If I’m ever able to get out of the 40 hour grind, maybe I’ll pick up something else. I’ll dedicate some time to my painting, or properly produce the album I wrote in 2021. Who knows?
As far as the writing I’ll keep here, I haven’t pinned much down but the point of writing is to do it, which means I have to start. So far, I’ve figured that some posts can be proper pieces, and some posts, like this one, will be a short ramble and a list of things I’m into at the time of posting.
Here’s what I’m into:
Join the Club by Tilly Louise (indie rock, afab vox, catchy hook, and when I say catchy I mean catchy)
Louise Bourgeois, French-American Artist and truly terrifying interviewee.
Hexagon Bridge, an Image comic, still being released monthly. It’s a cool story but the art is better. There’s a robot named Stanley who is mind-melded to his friend, Adley, though it’s clear (so far) they’re meant to be siblings. I’m really worried for them.
The Memory Police, Yoko Ogawa. Beautiful novel. About colonialism, generational trauma/memory, familial relationships, beauty, and so much more. The writing is so gentle.
Give It to Me Straight, a podcast/show hosted by drag queen and comedian Maddy Morphosis, who’s known primarily as the only straight cis man to ever perform on RuPaul’s Drag Race. I don’t know if that’s necessarily the case – everything’s fluid, even the straightness of cis white men – but she should be better known as an interviewer. God, she’s good. Like Nardwuar but less painful to watch, more emotional, and much prettier. The people she interviews are also much more interesting than his, and she connects with them on a level deeper than a cheap “gotcha!”. My favorite episode is below, with Mrs. Kasha Davis.
rambles and half-essays 