Don’t be afraid, you’re already dead.

God, I really suck at the follow-through business, no? I think I haven’t written on this fucking blog since the end of January maybe? Asshole, I am.

Anyway, sitting at a different library now, with the same ol’ time limit. Hurry, hurry.

My life has been what is keeping me away from computers. It has all been strange and beautiful as usual. Where now, with the writing? I should be coming up with funny anecdotes about the odd encounters I have with people, yes? I mean, it’s best to write about the human condition, I think; perhaps social dynamic is the cornerstone of said human condition.

But I think, sadly, hilariously, that I want to write about ME!! I, ME, ME, MINE.

Uhh… Haha. Not much to say on the subject. Well, no, that’s not entirely true. I’m just… preoccupied. Obsessed, really. The whole “growing up” thing is still happening. And I’m really actually doing it, in ways, and so I keep obsessing over new avenues that my newfound maturity can navigate. Basically, I’m still a retarded shithead, but I’m trying.

There are pages in a tiny notebook of mine that are ridiculous. Grocery lists. Budget plan. Blah blah. But I like it.

I’ve moved into a new house. In the beginning of March. Roommates and stuff. It’s a pretty great house, so far (save for the possible potential throat-punching of a particular part-time drunkenly antagonistic female roommate… but she’s moving in two weeks, so let’s hope the problem disappears on its own).

There’s a front porch that’s more like a deck with a roof over it, chairs, tables, ashtrays. There’s a back yard and gardens and compost heap and a goddamn pear tree. I can see the West Hills (and the top of some bridge, can’t discern which) from the window in my room.

I’m making art out of furniture, but I’ve still not written a song since being back in Portland. Five months. Ideas, yes. But no complete pieces. LAAAME.

Whatever, though, shit has been weird. I mean, I finally have a place to sleep that isn’t a couch in my friends’ living room. Shit, I have a door that LOCKS. And I’ve been locking the fuck out of it, just because I can.

THE POINT, however, is that things are settling down for me. Finally.

Mmmmmmm… what else?

Oh, right, the Apocalypse. Yep. That’s coming soon to a window near you. If we learned anything at all from Back to the Future, it’s that you DON’T FUCK WITH THE LIBYANS.

And I didn’t have my blog before the last U.S. presidential election, but I was telling people that whole time that Obama is going to turn out to be the Antichrist. Which, to be honest, I later changed my mind on when I saw Jesse Jackson crying happy tears on election night. But. Fuck it. I’m changing my mind back.

I will survive the Apocalypse, though, and finally have some peace and quiet so I can READ. I will read all the books on Earth, and I will have them all to myself. Ummm…

Right, right. So. I’m probably gonna scrap this blog at some point, and start a new one. I need anonimity. Realising that part of my problem is that I can’t be all-the-way honest on this blog anymore. Too many real people from my life have access to it.

I am far more me than I care to reveal to everyone I know. So. Sorry ’bout that. But I really need to be able to VENT, and I can’t do that here. Not to the fullest of my abilities.

So… Yeah. I don’t know.

Of course, I will be back again. Eventually. Maybe I’ll have many blogs. Shit, I may even start writing on Trickster Syndicate again. Maybe I won’t do a fucking thing. Maybe I will stay focused on what’s actually happening right now, rather than focusing on retelling everything to a sea of quiet faces behind computer moniters.

Anyway. I am still alive.

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About R. Spacely

Bastard.
This entry was posted in Going Home. Bookmark the permalink.

3 Responses to Don’t be afraid, you’re already dead.

  1. Mom says:

    Glad you’re back, I missed you. You sound semi-happy, which for you, is good. I’ll bet you already know, that you can’t really grow up until you quit using. You know, emotional growth stopped when you started. I know, bla bla bla. I have semi-adopted you, not that you wanted me to, but it feeds my save the world complex. So I’ll tell you the same thing I told your sister ;=) this week, you are a writer. Therefore write. Write music, write blogs, write emails. Just write.

  2. Beth says:

    It’s funny, I still periodically check you blog every couple of weeks simply to see if you’ve left us “readers” a note. I’m glad I saw this one.

    I understand wanting anonymity. I’ve felt the same way for quite a while with my blog, simply because having people you know reading your blog, makes it so you can’t be honest. Strangers will understand whatever you say, because you’re simply text on a screen. But your friends and family won’t understand when you go off on a rant that seems to not fit what they’ve decided is your person. It can be very frustrating.

    So, if you choose to move on, I’m happy for you. I’ll probably look for you, but if I don’t find you, here are my best regards. Enjoy where your life takes you.

  3. shhh says:

    come back!

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