Writing a blog post to the backdrop of Nine Inch Nails "Pretty Hate Machine" probably isn't conducive for finding my happy place.
But I'm not going to lie.
I'm not in a happy place right now. I mean, sure, overall my life is pretty fucking good--all things considered.
But I feel like I'm on a ledge. As I'm walking, I can see the nice safe pastures to my right....the sunny-day goal ahead. The bliss that awaits if I stay the course. And then...in my periphery I see the chasm. It's a post-apocalyptic night mare of choices I didn't take in my life.
"Just a fading fucking reminder of who I used to be..."
Preach it Trent.
I know this isn't comfortable for a lot of you. Everyone has been trying to cheer me up about the impending surgery. Trying to tell me that things are going to work out.
And...dude. Trust me. I know.
That part of it is common sense. At least it is to me. You see...of course it is going to work out the way it needs to. Everything does. Now...the trick is to understand the phrase the way it needs to. Sometimes that doesn't necessarily jive with how we think this life is actually going to turn out.
Hence the chasm of 'see what you missed, fucktard?'
Here's what you need to know about me.
I'm not happy.
Not all the time.
But I'm also not sad.
If that makes any sense.
You see...I figured out quite a long time back in my life that I have a well of darkness in the forest of my soul. That well is boarded over. Someone said that the darkness was bad. So they tried to cover it. And keep people like me from drinking from the well.
But I learned something. When I'm 'happy'...clinically happy....that sterile, saccharin sunshine and rainbows happiness that has fueled a millions dollar self-help industry....when I'm that guy, then I don't create.
From 1994-2000, I wrote 1400+poems/songs/lyrics. From 2001-2012....less than a handful. I think medication played a large part of that. I don't take anything now. And I'm writing on the blog quite a bit.
And more importantly..I'm actually journalling again. And I'm working on the actual books buried in me.
Yeah. Go me.
But fuck man...I need some of this darkness that makes people uncomfortable. And it really does. When I'm quiet, introspective Todd, it freaks people the fuck out. I'd apologize for that, but I need to be still. I need to recharge. I need to wade through this muck. I have to be able to pick and choose what I need from it.
It's not something that everyone can understand. And to be fair, I'm not sure that sober-Todd will read this tomorrow and have any fucking idea what I was talking about. But I suspect he will. Because he lives this most days.
There's a passage I wrote somewhere...sometime ago...and I'm going to paraphrase it and expand on it so you know why I'm not always so quick to jump on the Happy Time Express...
If there were only light, we would have no definition. If you look at the paintings of the great masters....the photographs of the true artists....the great stories....
All have shadows. Prominent patches where there is no light.
That's the only way you can see what is truly there.
So...please believe me when I tell you...I'll make it through this patch. I know that. I've been here before. You just didn't notice
But trust me...I'm dipping in the well of this darkness to help build the definition of what's going to be happening next in my life.
Thank you for your love and support....it is, at times, truly a life line
Alright...I think my grown up root beer needs some attention.
There is a long and storied tradition that writers have to be tortured or crazy. Or any sullied variation that deals with being plagued by ...
It's 5:40 AM on a Wednesday. I have been up for an hour. I have an outline for a work in progress that I intended to work on this mornin...
Greetings from SkaggleRock and the Gallifrey Annex. It's almost Fall. Well, technically it is Fall, but it's almost that magical 3 ...
The house lights are down. The audience an invisible mass gathered with a low jumbled murmuring sit restless, somewhere out there in a cloud...