The Problem of the Puer Aeternus

My mind is killing me. On the one hand, with Sertraline in my system, my mood’s improved significantly. While scientists haven’t found a cure (to my knowledge) for innate cynicism, I’m not as angry after work as before. Also my dips are spread apart (two since I started taking the pill in March), so that’s something to cheer for. But I’m still scatter-brained, if not more so. An idea popped into my brain (around the same time I started taking the pill) and, nearly two months later, I’ve not written one word on the subject. I have, however, taken A LOT of notes on the matter. I’ve used my journal more times in the last three or four weeks than I have in the three years since I started it. While I’ve ultimately decided that left pages are solely for note taking, I have filled quite a bit of the daily thoughts right page. And both sides are related to the idea that I had while reading (you guessed it!) the side effects to Zoloft.

Because at the tail-end of 2015 I decided to dedicate 2016 to exclusively reading science fiction, horror, fantasy, and speculative fiction, I’ve been reading A LOT of Lovecraft mythos and any related texts. A story here. A story there. And the more I left myself drift into the world, the more the idea was fed. And while I don’t have one single clue where I want this idea to lead, I do know that a story (or several) can come of it. Revision, I’m told, is the greatest thing a writer can do to his stories, and a lot of my old tales and back burner ideas are coming to fruition with a twist.

And while journaling gives me a sense of control of my ideas, I wish I could focus on a project at a time. That’s not, sadly, how my mind works. I’m brainstorming stories, poems, essays, and the layout of my and Shaun’s backyard garden. Trying to figure out how to finance the renovations that my home so desperately needs. Trying to figure out if getting a manufactured house is a better deal. Figuring out if I’d actually use a bench swing in the backyard, right smack in the middle of our garden, beneath the large mesquite tree. I’m looking into things that would help my kiddo learn his letters, his numbers, his shapes, and improve his speech. I’m trying to make this blog more interesting, but I don’t have a niche and I don’t think I’m ever going to have one. Is that so wrong? I’m paying to keep my journal public. Let’s face it though, none of this is edited or matters to the average reader. Most of you just come to read the old posts about Bailey Jay or Izzy Hilton (only to be disappointed by the fact that none of those posts have to do with porn).

Then there’s work. And I don’t really want to get into the cha-cha-changes happening at [redacted] because my level of apathy has reached all new heights. I haven’t heard a single word about the other library job in such a long time, I’m sure that it’s just a pipe dream. I’ll start looking for employment in other venues because I don’t know how much of the dramatic bullshit I can take (well, when it involves me).


Midtown Comics & More

I mentioned this—I’m sure I mentioned this, anyway. I mentioned in a previous post that I ordered the first three issues of Night of the Living Deadpool (Marvel) from Midtown Comics. For those of you who aren’t aware—because I wasn’t a few weeks ago—Midtown Comics is located in New York City. There’s also a stream of negative online reviews of the comic book establishment when it comes to shipping. I remained hesitant when I stared at my shopping cart before hitting checked out. A few days passed and fear seized my heart. Nightmares of bent shipping envelopes filled my sleep. I tossed. I turned. I woke up in a cold sweat. Shaun gave me a dad-get-a-grip-of-yourself look before turning over and falling back to sleep.

Just as I was getting into the car, the post officer drove up and blocked the drive way. That bastard! He pulled out an Amazon package—marked with Amazon Prime tape to boot. Fear seized me again. This sudden confrontation of having blacked-out-book-shopped gave me realization that I have a problem. Hold up, though. I never renewed my Amazon Prime subscription because I didn’t want to go broke. This is something else. But my name’s on it. So we’ll cross that bridge when we get there because—HOLD UP! WHAT’S THAT?! Another package. This one in cardboard envelope form. An unbent envelope, I must add. “I know what that is!” I shout, my voice thick with glee. The post officer—whose name I never learned even though he’s been our post officer guy for ages now—slammed the gas and sped off. Okay. That part’s a lie.


I took up the bundle of mail crap because I can’t deal with that now. I took the Amazon package and my Midtown Comics order and headed for work. In the car—I wasn’t driving—I learned of the contents in of the Amazon package. This year Jeanna chose The Nightmare Before Christmas as Shaun’s birthday party theme. This is because our kiddo has taken to the Tim Burton classic. Even though, mind you, Tim Burton didn’t direct the version everyone knows. She shipped the package to my house on accident and forgot to tell me. That’s a load off my chest.

I get to work and open my Midtown Comics package and my Night of the Living Deadpool issues are in perfect condition. Well, near mint condition. That’s Midtown Comics’ description, anyway. Now I’m curious about my Heavy Ink subscription and orders. It’ll be another few weeks until those get shipped my way. I opted for a monthly delivery because I didn’t want to over pay with shipping.

After I complete the four-issue read, I’ll write my review in full. And perhaps, I’ll attempt finishing The Walking Dead: Rise of the Governor to review it as well. I know. I’m late on that bandwagon, but I never said I’ll stay current with my reads.

This post was typed and edited using HemingwayApp.


“…in the shoes of so great a man.”

Suppressing the smile

I purchased the Samsung Galaxy S III Friday, and I have to say I’m in love with this little sucker. Better pictures than my old BlackBerry Curve, and isn’t that what fatherhood is all about? Taking pictures of your spawn? And I’ve tapped into my hipster-dom and created an Instagram account to boot. Prepare yourself friends and family, I’m going to shove images of my son down your throats.

I’m thinking of revamping this blog, again. The last time I said that, it never happened. I’m not motivated enough to keep up with a niche. (See: just about every blog I ever had.) Perhaps I’ll come to terms and just drop the Tumblr blog – have we agreed on calling it a Tumblog yet? – and start from zero. If I could, I just shove all the blogs into one. But then that would be super chaotic.

Ugh, why do I feel the need to keep my life on display like I’m someone important? Why do I feel like leaving a set of letters to my son where just anyone can read them? Am I trying to exist? I don’t know.

Anyway, as for the Samsung Galaxy S III, if you’re thinking about it, you should just get it. It’s worth every penny. Now, if only I can figure out how to do all the cool stuff with it. Any help will be greatly appreciated.