the drafts and the difference
Here are a few of the recent unfinished ones–generally what happens is I start writing it in the am–during a break from work or whatever…and then I forget about finishing it–and then I tell myself no, it is OKAY, because you will remember later. Now I do have a real talent sometimes with words and other times I probably annoy the shit out of people–but I used to use a lot of alliterations and had a kind of personal rhythm. I am certainly no perfect writer–there is certainly little format to any of these though trust me, I am starting to understand the value of being succinct. I recently visited an old friend’s blog and realized…some people are incredibly long-winded. I can spout out a few hundred characters of genius in a given day, but there’s clearly some low participation here these days from years past, likely due to my own absence from the remarks. I suppose I might feel a SLIGHT better had I been a better recorder–I always said I should have remarked on every single one of those online dates and dudes I met–my god even if you managed to find them all and put them in one room and it was only them…I promise you I wouldn’t remember their names, or really anything about them except if I had sex with them of course…I mean we all have our categories of them and I can remember most of them given it wasn’t ever just once as I wasn’t too into one-night stands but, it’s like oh, Jason the super IT nerd, oh the other redhead guy who had that band, oh that Patricia Field model who went by Bel I met on a telephone dating line, oh that bus driver for the MTA, oh that tattoo artist, not the one from out of country but the local one, and then the photographer and then the NASA photographer and then the most recent big 3 and I married 4…Now I would be lying to you to tell you that was it, because no–there were a few other boyfriends in there–oh my god I cannot even remember the name of the Haitian/Cuban guy who was super emo–my god not a thing about him, but that he was emo. There was John who worked security and was beautiful and triangular–there was Vectorman, Marc–he developed schizophrenia–I am continuing this exercise so I can at least fucking remark it once before I do forget them all. Oh shit and then the VERY emo kid who lived with his grandmother in the lower east side, then the guy who left his wife who lived near WTC I left the August before 9/11–then the DJ dude in town, then the various internet guys, Oink and Primer with a number I don’t want to designate but yeah. I have gone through a TON of different relationships and honestly–in NY, you do that, unless you find your person or you are dead inside–or MAYBE you have better things to do, businesses to run–but as a young fairly attractive woman in NYC–you’ve got your choice. But, BEHOLD the DRAFTS:
Drafts
the difference is the differenceNovember 15, 2017
Wow on things. I have somehow filled myself with enough…
A Year to ClearOctober 31, 2017
Holy crap you’d think I was a more together person…
we might all be wasting just a little too much timeOctober 15, 2017
We all waste time–it’s the one thing we have the…
So I have been considering how I have managed to stay somewhat sane in the world we live in with all of this garbage that has happened to me, and I think…I think when you come into adulthood with the reality of a broken heart and vasculature, that you just never learn number one, to care much about anniversaries after a while, and number two, you learn not to expect too much out of life because the obstacles are everywhere and easy to spot. I may have remarked on my history with different therapies and therapists but I never once got put on an anti-depressant or anxiety medication because I have just kind of explained this all away as just something that’s mine to deal with, and because I had NO contact with anybody in my predicament, I had to develop this kind of exterior thing, a sort of refusal to care or talk too much about the shit I worry about…because though there is the issue of money, there are other things I am clearly concerned with you sometimes see hints of–I am definitely not really afraid to die, exactly, but I am afraid to do it without leaving my mark through one of my ten billion website, invention, books or any host of other ideas. If I die without getting something fucking done it is clearly my fault BUT–that is what I fear. I think the dying thing isn’t something I plan on suffering a long time enduring as it’s likely to be a big and massive event–and when you go, you go. A lot of people might have met me over the years, hell most of my FB I do know–but it would be a pretty low turnout given I am in the state where almost everyone hates each other–so for any funeral so I hope there’s nothing left to have any ceremony over, honestly. It would be super hard to have a ceremony without a body and I have explicitly stated, burn me up, keep the plastic and metal bits and I guess you do have to bury those, huh? It’s gonna be ash, a hunk of mashed plastic and metal shit. Who thinks that would be fun to sprinkle? Not me and I would never do that to anyone–unless it was the ocean and even then it seems wrong. Maybe I will make someone throw me down a cavern or a cave somewhere…ohhhh, I know. A fucking volcano. Throw me in one of those and THAT would be something. Hey, I do want a Hawaii future maybe so it might be feasible.
But yeah…as I was thinking of what I do to manage my stress and general anxiety–well one thing I CAN say, I don’t fucking do a good job of it clearly, given the sheer number of incidents in my life. OBVIOUSLY there are other people doing this WAY better than me and that is totally cool. But I just really do sit here sometimes thinking WTF is the point. I have been on and off suicidal for years which I am sure is very obvious sometimes, but I also have a bit of an ego. If I leave nothing concrete, what value did I have? Obviously no child of mine exists or will so that won’t work. So I have to do something, and part of me thinks when and if I do write that book I will die the next day. That would be pretty fucking funny and ironic honestly, but what the hell–heck I would run for a political office if I didn’t think my ill health would handicap me in some manner…oh well, that’s another life. Time to run…
