“Go as far as you need to go.”

Last night, Montague and North Muskegon, the Lake Shore and being forced out of my depression.

Last night, the highway and Coopersville and downtown Grand Rapids; being told to, “come on man, you’re getting old. Enjoy what’s left of your youth. Just settle down and nope, you’re coming.” Words from Jake, saying, “dude, damn dude, come on and practice what you preach.”

Last night, country roads and spray painted city alleys, rest stops and so many slowly moving turtles driving on the american roads, turtles that we call semi-trucks.

Last night, smokes and friends,  old friends and new friends, girls and girls, so many girls, often, girls were on the mind.

Last night, Michigan and Illinois, Chicago and the flat-lands of Indiana.

Last night, “Come on”. You’re going man”, and “what’s final is final”. Words from an old pal, a sane man. Words from Jake telling me to calm my nerves and remember who I am.

Streets and down the highway out of Michigan and, “where are we going?”

“We’re going to Nashville” Jake Said.


Digital Blinks #18, Snow

I’m writing a new book. It’s done. I wrote it. Nothing. Life is practice. Days are never to be forced. Dreams are to be had. Life is not a game. Driving and watching and talking, sleeping at rest stops and learning, trying to remember, and only through practice does it become natural. You know what to do. To flow, to be the spontaneous slow pitched lion’s roar. Cold but warmer than ever. Time and unconditioned and welcoming like a brother the repressed laughter  Hearing you all. There for you all. Trying to hear your voices, alone. Classifications and dualism are erroneous illusions of the romantic drunk. Unnecessary, all of this, so easy, but without practice  so hard to remember when…I stop and wait. I have some new material. A whole new book. I have to go think. I have to keep practicing. Remember, without, remembering.

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Back to work

Some may say I’m a bit depressed. Maybe I am. But not really, just feel myself becoming bored, complacent, seasonal, icy, and on Christmas I shaved my hair off. It’s a bad time of year to cut your hair, it’s the winter, and I’m not sure why I thought that’s what I needed to do. I just wanted to start over I think. That’s what I’m going to be doing with my writing. I’m going to get some of my backlog edited and ready to be published, because I need it gone, done, so like my buzzed head, I too as a writer can create something new. Make sense? I don’t know either. Kinda does, I think…

VLUU L200  / Samsung L200

I was going to move. I can’t. I don’t like it. it is, damn, what it is. And for all of those who have followed this blog since it started, thank you. I’ve piled up a shit ton of words in 2012. A mountain, and man, I feel the weight of that without any substance, the weight of my art, my unfinished writing. I’m very tired lately. Physically and mentally. I would go and take a vacation,  get my mind straight, because I’m cloudy, a bit lost. Just honest, but I’m poor, and I say that objectively, it is what it is. I cant pretend that something is happening for me when it’s not. I focus on the day, trying to become a better human. This is my lot right now, and something will happen, or I will die. Some people work their ass off  their whole damn life and nothing changes. Life doesn’t hate them. It is what it is. And for now, I’m Not going to talk about this. I’m Only going to post small sections that I’m working on (sometimes completely out of context) for now on, for the time being.

My projects are, taking care of business. Getting healthy. Trying to find a job as a writer/editor/reporter in the modern world. Trying to pay off my student loans. Sending out resumes. finishing my second novel. As far as writing goes I’m going to finish Adventures of a dying young man in the next couple months and publish it with west vine press, if agents exist anymore, and you are one, give me a book deal and lol, I’ll make you rich. Aint happening  so keeping on with it, and I’m going to be a bit easier on myself with editing, relax. I’m also writing a new story that I will post about a couple of writers who don’t fit in where they live, a blue collar factory town. I’m going to be working on those two projects for the time being. I have books for sale. You can buy them if you want. I don’t know what else to say. I’m not feeling very poetic right now. But as I always say, when you cant create, you can work. I’m a writer, and more, and so, well, time to punch in and roll up the sleeves and get back to work. I don’t know what else to do. But I’m sick of waiting and worrying and not working on my writing because I’m waiting to be invited into what adults call the “real world”. Getting back to the basics. Done losing hours to social networks. Gone for a while to everything but my words. Whatever. Done explaining, so Here’s a section from adventures of a dying young man.