Why Do I Write...and taking One Tiger at a Time!

Every now and then I ask myself, just why I do I do this?  Here I am, sitting in the Morebucks trying to gather some sort of wakefulness, considering what I've been doing the past several days, weeks, whatever...

In case you don't know, when I blog I generally do it in a stream of consciousness and I do tend to sidetrack myself.  A mental multi-tasking, as long as the tendons in my wrists allow me.

And I listen to my iTunes...a lot.

"Life is Just a Tire Swing," Jimmy Buffett...how appropriate.

So anyway...my last blog post was the announcement that I will put out my first novel, "Parasite Girls" later this year as an e-book, through Amazon.com and Kindle.

The first order of business was to get the manuscript ready.  It was not.  I had taken this rather strange, knocked out story with few characters and settings that are more familiar to American audiences.  Seemed the best and easiest one to get out there, and I feel it's a good story.

"My God," Jethro Tull, from Aqualung Live...

This is very different from what you will find if you page back through this blog.  I do not consider myself a great writer, nor do I consider myself cutting edge.  I just choose to write something different, and I like being different.  It's easy to make up silly stories based on whatever came before.  

I've made that mistake in the past.  It does not work, though it may for a short-term ego and checkbook fix.  

It is not cool to walk into a bookshop (there are no such things it feels to me around here) and see shelf upon shelf upon shelf of alleged original works that are nothing but knock-offs of Stephanie Meyer and whatever else.  It bores the shit out of me.

Because I know I can do better; but can I make myself do it.

"Parasite Girls" is not a great novel, but it is a good story.  About remaking oneself, finding oneself again, and realizing that no matter how many years pass and how many miles pass under you that there are still people that matter in your life.  Not always your family, either.

Not that I know much of what that's about...but I suppose it's what I wanted to see, and perhaps others will experience that.

As usual I tackle too many issues at once, but the issues become secondary I hope to the people that are living them.

So, why do I write?  I have always enjoyed it.  To me, it's fun.  I enjoy creating a world within the real world, and making characters up that are like those I see around me, but also those who are just a bit off-kilter, and even, yes, fucked up.  We all are.

That said...I'm nearly done with it.  I discovered through a friend an interesting software called Grammarly.  It's a trick to use, and you have to be patient with it and make it work to your advantage.  

The best way for me is to use it chapter by chapter.  It offers grammatical help, way beyond what spellcheckers do.  You also get a lot more in the way of alternatives to words you use too much. 

I did not realize how much I used certain words to the point of madness.  I feel incredibly illiterate now.  What the fuck happened there?

At this point, I am down to the final chapters, but even then I need to really read it over...the more I read, the more I realize it does not always flow.  Getting there, though.

Either way, should be a good read.  Once it's ready, then I'll worry about the next step of navigating the mad world of getting it formatted for online.  And every other damned thing.

--

That's what I do most days...not a lot of work, and time on my hands, better do something with it.  

"Caress Me Baby," by Omar Dykes & Lou Ann Barton...old Jimmy Reed stuff with Jimmie Vaughan on guitar.

My several months without medication has turned out okay.  I still feel periods of nervousness and my mind jumps ahead to things before I have to rein it in.  

When it comes to the writing, I find myself planning out ideas well ahead.  I have at least two more story ideas, one of which is good but it does not make enough sense to go anywhere.  You can't start something if you don't have a good timeline and plan in place.

And I have too much to do right now; so thinking about it is all I can do.

Idea to turn another story from my past into a first-person narrative...and then I have to get back to something else.

--

I am off to New England tomorrow, for a week to visit my sister and bro-in-law up in Maine; a couple days there, see some friends, and then to Boston where I'll sell a guitar to an old friend, and meet up with more friends.

Cool thing, here:

https://pinterest.com/pin/553168766700477254/

That's me, one of my agent's charges on Pinterest.  I think it's a good idea to get us out there, but I wonder how it will work.  Gotta wait and see.

"I Wish Lunch Could Last Forever."  Back to Buffett I see...great song from "Off to See the Lizard."

So yeah...the first book in that thing called the Sweet Dreams Series.  I am taking on an old and dear friend as my "Japan Advisor."  Sara may be interested in helping me plow through some of this, and give me some good insights on the land I've not been to yet.

I will eventually get back to that...as my friend Alice says, "One Tiger at a Time."  I think this comes from taming the tiger or something.

So I'm trying to do that...feel more and more like a person in a hurry.  Is this my lack of meds, so I am now foot to the floor?  No idea.

I also did get a bit of write-up in Front Row Literary, the online version.  A portion of the first book was put up, and the who I am bit.  Very nice.

Now...I will get the chance to take my new ride on a good long run, which should be enjoyable.  The Silver Saturn finally was retired in December, after just under a quarter million miles.  I have an '06 Honda Civic with few miles.  Nice ride, and I'm enjoying it.

I have to consider so many things, and a nice long ride will help with that.  

To answer that question again...this is something I love very much.  I enjoy coming up with these stories, ideas and things, and I want to see them in the hands of others.  I just hope very much that a larger circle beyond my friends can read these, and get something good out of them.

"I Cover the Waterfront," old version of the John Lee Hooker track...

So do I do this for the money?  Well, I've never made any as a writer; would be nice.  Could I make enough to do just that?  At this point, no.  But I also am first and foremost a broadcaster.  Radio is my first love, and I wish to stay in it, despite my just being a jobber the past four years out of the 29 I've invested in it.

It's how it goes.  You do what you can, and I still do.

I know that my ego would love to see some of these in book form.  I would strongly hope I don't let shit go to my head, but we're human.  I don't want it to be that way.  So I do it; cool, what's next?

I will eventually get "Parasite Girls" ready and it will get out there.  I just hope I can be patient enough to do it right, get it set right, get the right everything in place, without taking too long.  My goal is by the spring, and that I believe is in reach.

My recent examination of the story has shown it to be a good one.  I don't think much more is needed.  Other stories?  We'll see.

The one thing I will tell others who say, "Oh, I've always wanted to write a story about..." and then they tell me all about it.

Well...do it.

My old and dear artist friend Sunny said it over 20 years ago...you just have to do it.

Make the time, take it and fucking do it.

I'm outta here...Peace.

The Post-Zoloft Withdrawal, and Gut-Wrenching Psychosis (of Others)...

"Now you're time has come...I'm gonna cut you...Like I should've done...A long time ago........"


Penelope Houston's "Cut You" is a fabulous 90's record that went under the radar back in the day.  Great voice and wit.


Yes, this day is the day for me to fire off a missive about many different things.  I just left my doctor's office, where I reported my self-imposed takedown of the Big Z.  


Ten weeks without the compression drug.  Needless to say the first four weeks of withdrawal were enough to make me a wreck; there have been varied schools of thought about how long it would take to get 12 years' reside of the little blue pills out of my system.  The doc says it's definitely long gone.


It was not a fun period, at least the start of it.


"Criminal," the Pretenders, from that unplugged album of theirs.  Never been a huge fan of them, but it's pretty good.


How do I feel?  Well, I do feel much more like myself.  I have had friends say my color has returned, and that I seem more alive on varied levels.  I do feel that way, but the anxiety and stress levels are nowhere near what I thought they would be.


I still have issues that involve stress, which I'll get to in a second.  I wish to perhaps again pimp a new book, "Coming of Age on Zoloft," by Kathleen Sharpe; she writes for Psychology Today, and the book chronicles her being arbitrarily put on the Big Z while in college.  I think Sharpe suffered from some definite depression in her high school and college years, based on her very frank descriptions and assessments.  There I think was some OCD component, but beyond that I can't really say.


Her experience and that of the individuals she interviewed for the book show a cross-section of people who for as many different reasons ended up on Zoloft, Effexor or any of these other meds.  


The book is NOT an attack on the medical profession, nor is it a slur on the use of the meds...just a good report on the loss of the plot.


"Common Ground," Midnight Oil.  Superb song...Peter Garrett has gone on to represent Australia very very well in Parliament, but I miss him.  He's also a great interview and a really nice guy.


Doctors have admitted this...it became far too easy to hand over the pills and send people on their way.  Moneywise, doctors admit in a number of cases they can bill and make more by handing out the drugs than actually doing therapy and treatment.


What's wrong with this picture, folks?


My physician said that the main aim has been to get people off stuff, if they can tolerate it.  In each person, it's very different.  It also has to do with the ingrained anxieties and issues.


As she said, paraphrasing, when you're crying nonstop and can't stop, or you are so anxious and freaked out that you can't function, treatment has to be looked at.


In answer to my question, she's seeing a lot more depression and anxiety cases.  Much of it is tied to the economy, and the loss of jobs, etc.  Logical; money makes shit like that come down.  I wondered if even before the downturn, were we seeing more of it.


If you for example feel really down, and really depressed, and there's no reason for it, why is that happening?  That is hard to say, again we're so different.  I went through nearly 35 years of it, nonstop.


"Why Did You," Sass Jordan.  Another of the female singers still with us that didn't get the attention she should have.


I do not believe the purists who bitch about how over-medicated we are, because they apparently are all so very happy in their unhappy, grumpy world.  It's true, though a lot of us may well be.


My specialist was the one who suggested Zoloft for me; I at that point in my life felt this was the first medical professional I could talk to about a very serious depression that was leading me to think about some heavy plans to get out of this world.  Not fun.


I don't regret any of it; it kept me together, smoothed out the moods for the most part, and let me live my life.  I've changed.


And we do change a lot.  I'm older, my body has changed and my mind has changed.  Right now, I feel healthier than I have in more than a decade.  That's due to my choices, most of them anyway.


I still do have issues.  Anxiety, guilt, stress, an occasional hyper-awareness.


"Ain't That a Lot of Love," Fabulous Thunderbirds...there we are.


Now, I do think a fair number of people out there do need a little help now and then, and there's no shame in that.


There are however people whose internal chemistry, and the circumstances of their lives where's it's different.  Some serious cases do need meds, plus monitoring.  We can't just decide one way is the only way.


I don't even know what my way is.  I think that changes, too.


I still have stress in certain areas.  Mechanical devices seem to not like me.  I don't think I can use a copier once without it jamming or having a malfunction.  Happened yesterday; making copies at WITF and I'm up to my elbows in trying to figure out how to get that piece of paper out of the top drawer mechanism when you can't physically touch it.


Exasperating; and it's bad form to just walk off and leave it.  Cary Burkett walked into the room for coffee while I was doing this, and we said hello and exchanged pleasantries.  I then muttered, "I hate these things."


He laughed.  We both did.


"Blue Harvest Blues," Mississippi John Hurt.  iTunes shuffle iz good.


Computers...there's another one.  My friend Alice points out that patience is not a good thing with me in certain areas.  True; I can be patient in some ways, not in others.


Now, how about the second half of my title?  The giant metal claws that pop out of some people's fingers and then reach within and start digging and twisting one's self inside and out keeps happening, and I'm watching the sometimes infantile activity take people out of the picture.


"Watching Over You," Mick Fleetwood Band.  I think Rick Vito is singing on this.


This has been on my mind for some months...consider this:  


When you write an email, or post a message/reply on Twitter or Facebook, etc., do you catch the meaning behind the words?  The intent?


I don't always.  Neither do others.


Words are such an interesting and fun thing; we can do so much with them, but as George Carlin used to say, we also use them to hurt.  Not always with bad intent, but we do it.


We also use them for opinions, and those opinions I find become incendiary.  I know I'm guilty of this, as much as the next person:  we over-react.


Then, as Jim Rome likes to say about certain relief pitchers, out comes the gas can and the blue tips.  


FLAME WARS!


We argue over the dumbest things, don't we?  Politics, religion, whether the sky is really blue, and like that.


Opinions are like assholes, we all got 'em.  Why is it when someone actually has an opinion and someone counters it, do one side (or both) go mad?


Then it gets mean...name-calling, accusations, more and more arguing.  We're fighting over an opinion, folks.


Oh but that' right it's also the battle for supremacy, and righteousness.  You get pulled into the game; you must get the last word or you have lost.


Actually, I don't think so.  It is at times best to do nothing at all.


"How Long Blues," Eric Clapton version.


Of course someone's gonna tub thump and proclaim victory by saying they were right all along because they got the last word or wasted hours by dissembling every word to prove they were right.


Time to get a life...I have one, and I'm not being arrogant about it.  I write this blog not to make people mad, but because I like to.  I like to write about the things that interest me, and if you actually can think about this, then good.  I didn't say you had to agree with me.


"You and Me," Mick Ronson...sad loss to rock n' roll.


I suppose living as I do; barely employed, working to keep my sanity, keeping the projects running this way leaves me somewhere.  I don't know where.


The point I make is:  each day of my life, I have do SOMETHING.  I have to do something positive; it can be working out, editing or writing one of my works, cleaning my house, whatever.  As long as I did something of value this day, either for me or for another, then I have done my job.


There are days I don't.  I try not to worry too much about that.  I am more aware that more than half my life has passed.  What have I left behind?


To borrow a phrase, "What indeed?"


"Hangdog Hotel Room," Gordon Lightfoot.


I do feel remorse if I have wronged someone, and I wish to make right those things I've fucked up.  Often, I feel forgiveness is impossible to attain no matter what I do.


I can't back down from what I know is true, but the pull of the other makes me think.  From some I feel, nothing I do will ever be enough.  I will go from what I once was to them, to someone beneath contempt.


I have to live with that; and realize that if they're going to decide I'm a terrible, awful person, then that's their perception.


Maybe they need a bit of mood stabilization.


Now and then, I find I ask myself:  "Am I this horrible person?  Am I really so unapproachable?"


No.


Definitely not.  I'm a person.  If people are put off by my hair, my spiritual leanings, my politics or whatever, then too bad.  I'm not arrogant, just realistic.


"When Somebody Thinks You're Wonderful," Clapton.  Skipping...not one of Eric's better efforts.


"Milk Train," Graham Parker.  Much better!


We do tend to destroy one another, though; we shit on and tear people down because it suits us in the moment.  We make a point, we think we win.


I make jokes all the time about stuff, but do you think I hate people?  Not at all.  Hate is a useless emotion; I see too many people use it.  Just look at the comment section of any website.


People have nothing better to do than spew it, just to start a fight.  


Collective madness, perhaps?  


I'm not sure where this is all going, but we need to again think a little.  I'm sorry if people don't get it, or this, or whatever, but this is where I'm at right now.


Crossroads, maybe?


Could be...we all have one.  I for one do NOT believe 2012 is the end of the world or any of that.  I do not think we're headed for a full meltdown of the entire world, but if something does happen, we survive.  We adapt.  Or you hope we do.


Gotta go...more to do.  In future, we may be transferring the blog over to Wordpress, so I'll let you know where it goes.  


"This is no social crisis, this is you havin' fun..."

The Open Road...Rocky Horror Reconsidered, Living on Zoloft and other Strange Thoughts...

Well, that's a good beginning, isn't it?  Back in the Office on the 4th of July, and "Farewell to Arms" is playing by ELP.  A ballad for whatever this state of mind is I'm in.


I have a lot to tell you of, and also this is the cleansing of my twisted insides for what must be the millionth time.


I am actually in a good state of mind right now, and it feels good.  Of course, 30 minutes on the bike and another 10 or so in the sauna on a day that's pushing 95 in the shade will do that to you.


So, let's see...I was on the road early Saturday, once more to return to Boston and help say farewell to the Loew's Theatre in Harvard Square, Cambridge.  The theatre has been home to the Full Body Cast of the Rocky Horror Picture Show since 1984.  It's final turn is this Saturday.  


I am actually working on the 7th, so I did my turn on the 30th.  My first time in that theatre to perform was on April 5, 1990, as a "Rocky."  Yes!  I did not become Riff Raff until a couple months after that.


iTunes update:  "Hurtin' Me, Hurtin' You," by Steve Earle.  The music fuels my fingers, what can I say?


From my pretentious hotel (I have to have a little fun, dammit), where I can cause heads of the allegedly wealthy to turn when this maniac dressed like a biker with a guitar strides through the lobby; anyway it is a comfy place, and I do like a little of that when I can get it.  View of the Charles is lovely, and it's close to stuff.


Like I wrote last summer, Cambridge (where I was), Boston, the whole city...it's alive again.  I really miss the activity, and yet with that comes the concerns I have about being able to survive in a city with such high tension. With the activity comes the tension and the stress.


Six weeks plus off Zoloft is like detox; I am fighting off a drug addiction.  I didn't even realize it.  I am still having issues with it.  Tension rises, the E-string gets fucking wound, and then look the fuck out.


"Moby Dick," Led Zep.  Hmmm...


In a city of millions, you can still feel alone.  I have written lyrics for a new song, which will be called "Strangely Unfamiliar."  That's how I felt.  I knew the whole city like the back of my hand; been here for many years, and yet it is not the same.  The change is good, but how to comprehend it, and adjust to it.


I need change; lots of it.  I keep saying I need to leave PA; I have almost nothing to hold me here, but for the off-chance that I can prove to certain people that I have value.  It would provide the base for which I need to do every other thing.


Every other important thing in my life.


I popped into Magic Dragon Comics in Arlington, and I caught up with my old friend and Rocky Horror compadre Eric Carter.  Eric is the former lead singer of Rogue, and a brilliant artist.  He tipped me to some of the independent comic and manga work being done in the area, including that of George O'Connor, former Rocky and Rogue member.


George is author of a zombie type work that is getting some attention out there.  Fully independent, and no strings attached.  


I made my pilgrimage to Newbury Comics, and the Jewelry/Tattoo shop to get a new ankh.  My last one broke; very interesting omen there.


"Rock this Place," Fabulous Thunderbirds...now we're talking.


Getting ready for the show, I could feel a terrible depression come down on me.  Excited to be back, then crashing hard.  


I drifted over to the Harvard Theatre early, and sat across from the place at the church steps.  This is/was the gathering point for the Rocky people for years, before we could be let inside the building.  I thought back to years of being here, being with these people, my people and how it's all going away. Bittersweet memories.


I felt ill.  I didn't want to do this; I didn't want to perform, and I actually thought about no-showing.  But I had to get one last turn on the stage for fun, and to remind myself why I did it all those years.  It was fun; and it was okay to seek that fun out.


There's a terrible guilt trip we lead on people; to enjoy life is somehow a bad thing.  We have to work, make money, find a spouse, fuck the spouse and spit out a bunch of kids, etc., etc., etc.  Modern living.


Most of us never did that.  Well, a lot of the Rocky people are now married, have kids, real jobs, but they didn't lose their sense of fun.  


I had attributed this line to my friend Lisa Risley, but it was not written by her.  In a play Riz directed me in, her character says, "The theatre is a home for lost children."


Think about that.


We are.


I was.


A Lorenna McKennitt song came on...I skip.  I hate to say it, but I find her music annoying.


Carlos del Junco, "Don't Worry Your Pretty Little Head," is next...blues guy, but this is a slow, jazz type of thing with harmonica.  Different.


It's funny what makes the fog lift.  Two ex-cast members suddenly popped up in front of me.  They were not there to perform, but they dropped in.  Then two more.


These photos by the way are on my Facebook; there are two folders, so check those out.


So we all got to talking, like we did, and I felt awake again.  Thanks.


The gang slowly came in...Wombat, the techie for life it seems, and others...the dark, the scantily clad (all ages, haha), and the rest started to show up.  There is a kinship that will never die with these folks.


Another reason to go back.


The show was an all-star mashup of performers, tagging off as the night went on.  I had the middle part, which I fortunately remembered.  I look old...damned old in those pictures that were taken.  But it was fun.


Preshow was an extended set of performances, and a free for all Time Warp.  How do you do that?  All Riffs (4), all Magentas (3), all Columbias (2 or 3), and I got one last leap off the riser.


Fun.


That was something else.  The good news is, the FBC has a new home, in Boston Common, which begins on August 4th.


"Killer Queen..." -- do I have to tell YOU?!?


Sunday...I hung out with an old friend, Gretchen and I later had my collaborators' meeting with Riz and Jen (the latter the hand behind the Sweet Dreams Series).  


Jen is as crazy busy as ever...she's become a workout junkie, and looks remarkably fit.  We found our way (thanks to Jen's GPS) into the Medford Suburbs...yes, "Meh-fuh" does have them!


Riz's new home with her new boyfriend and his daughter is a wonderfully cluttered little home with lots of intriguing curiosities.  Al is a laconic New Englander, but a good guy.  I liked him immediately.  The youngest daughter, last one at home is Lex.  


Hardcore Otaku.  I love her.  Riz and Lex have bonded over Invader Zim, and numerous other such things.  I have not seen the woman so happy, and she deserves it.


"When a Guitar Plays the Blues," Roy Buchanan--THE SONG THAT STARTED THE SWEET DREAMS SERIES.  ALL OF IT.


So anyway...a certain press is looking at the SDS, manga version.  The possibilities that they will pick up the book could happen.  It's now a wait.


Meanwhile, the cover concept must be set, so we can make a second submission to a publication for previews and promotional purposes.  We're back in the business, again.


Another long night...Monday...I took a walk along the Charles, and for once saw that side of the river along Memorial Drive in a way I never had.  I needed the exercise, and damned if I would get any in the hotel pool.


Hotel.  Pool.  Tourists.  Kids.  Enough said.


I got a good walk into Kendall Square, which has grown up a bit over the years.  Found an indie coffee shop to hang in, and had a scone which weighted about three pounds!  The upwardly mobile, the MIT crowd and the rest all getting on here, as in every place through this city.  Indeed.


I kept walking eventually, back toward the river, and passed a coffee shop I could later go back to.  Voltage. 


This is a minimal, coffee and art place.  Art works hang on its bare walls, and while the coffee is pricey, it's pretty good.  


I did some shopping...yeah, guess what?  I do.


I do think some changes to my life will come; every now and then this snake (my totem animal) needs to shed skin, and I will do that again as time goes by.


Later, I had dinner with Riz, and we talked for three ours.  Another part of the world in Medford has changed:  Wellington Circle is gone.


I worked the Strawberries there from 1989-90.  It's all gone, replaced by a mini-city called Station Landing.  Weird.  It's kind of like Hunt Valley, for those who have never been there and live where I do now.


Riz is dealing with numerous issues, as always, but I feel a corner will turn with her.  About time.  I am hopeful to turn my corners as well.


"Victims of Comfort," Keb' Mo' -- now isn't this an indictment of not just the rich, but quite a few of us?  It is on his first album, great song.


Our modern world has taken us into a corner, all of our own making.  I wonder about what we've done, and what I have to do.


As it stands, I have no job.  I am on-call, for both WITF, Radio PA, and yes, Clear Channel.  There's no work; no unemployment, but I have lived quietly and alright.


I am not starving, and though I fear it, homelessness and being dead-ass broke is not going to happen.  I will not permit it.


"Come into My Life," Robert Plant.


Of course, you must think, "Well, he just took a trip to Boston to hang out with those weirdos from his past!  Blah, blah, blah."


Trying not to worry about it all.  But there is so much that we do think are like the necessities, when they're not really.


So anyway...zoomed outta Dodge early on Tuesday, avoided the holiday rush and bullshit and made it home before noon.  I have before me a lot of work to do, and a lot of changes to make.


These will take a long time.  I do not know if tomorrow I'll have a job, if I'll suddenly have to move, or if something even bigger occurs.


I have had people criticize me for having "no life."


What does that mean?


Look around, and at you:  what do I see?  I see a life that I can't shit on, because I am a part of it.


What do we do in this world?  We make money.


Money provides a lot of things; "breathing room," as my old roommate Kevin once said.  Yes, that's so.


Too much will kill you.  Why make tons of money in a job you don't like?  For what?


To buy a new car, when the one you own runs just fine?  The Silver Saturn is 237,000 miles old, and while I know it's going to cost me to get it inspected, it's still cheaper than buying a new one.  I don't want a new one.


My poor old house that I rent is 90+ years old; the landlady did say that it would be better to raze it eventually, and put another on it.  I was surprised by that, because Alice and I, among others have considered it.


I do love that piece of land, and I would like it, but...with ownership comes responsibility.


Taxes.  Codes Enforcement Officers.  Township Regulations.


Not worth it.


I would rather rent, and know that being a good renter means not just to pay the rent, but to not destroy the house.  I admit, I've not been great to the old spot, but at least I'm not knocking holes in the walls and stealing from the landlord's garage, like a previous tenant is alleged to have done.


David Jacobs-Strain, "Kokomo Blues."  Local guy, really good musician.


I don't go to bars, I don't drink anymore.  I no longer smoke...holy shit, $10 a pack in New York State!  If that doesn't make you quit, I dunno what will!


I do have a membership in a health club, and that has been a good influence.  That plus the people around me.  After one year, I can see benefits.  I am healthier than I have been in almost 20 years.  It's a good thing.


I suppose I am one of the consumer generation, and I do wish I was not so much.  Then again, at this point, I've needed to live quieter, and more simply.


It's not an easy life, but we have to live it.  One has to shed the need to do things, 24/7.  We have to go here, go there, do this, do that, keep up with the Joneses, etc.


Sometimes, it's hard to even just survive, and I know all about it.  You have nothing at times, and you feel the frustration, the anger, the hatred of all who have what you do not.


We're seeing that anger now in politics.  I see people vote against their better interests and judgement, because it makes them feel good for one moment to stick it to someone else.


But what if that hurts you?  Two years later, you'll be screaming bloody murder about THAT.  And you still think it's someone else's fault!


I don't blame anyone for the place I'm in.  It's not about blame.  I don't blame me, or anyone.  I made my calls, and I don't regret it.


If there will be a big step, I will consider it, and take it if I feel it's right.


This is very hard to deal with, when you are considering the drug matter. Zoloft.


Katherine Sharp is the author of a book I'm reading, "Coming of Age on Zoloft."  It's her story, plus that of others.


Worth reading.  It is not an indictment on the drug industry, but it points a finger at it.


Since the 50's we've been drugging ourselves, or letting others do it.  We are a drugged-out generation of feel-good people, and yet we still feel like shit a lot of the time.


Zoloft is like many of these drugs; therapeutically they are satisfactory in the short term.  They help.  But they are NOT meant for life.


I have been on the Big Z 12 years.  I was led to believe it was okay; I was led to believe I'd need it all my life.


WRONG.


I don't fucking need it.  I am amazed that the most creative and productive period of my life occurred during this time.


I realize how hard it is in withdrawal.  My stress, anxiety, and fury return without warning.


I trashed the Vibe Room a couple weeks ago in a fit of rage.  Childish, stupid, immature...yes, but it made me feel better.


I nearly turned into a Road Rage incident in Boston Monday night when I could not find my way from Cambridge to Medford.  W/O the drugs, I get scattered, and I get lost sometimes.  Not good.


I have to learn to step back on my own.  It is very hard.  But I have to do it.


"Fire Woman," the Cult.  Nice.


I'm doing my best, folks.  Hard as hell sometimes, but sometimes it works.


Today, I feel fine.  Tomorrow, who the fuck knows?


My life is one long strange trip, but so isn't yours.


I'm gonna figure out the next step.  If I have to leave PA, which I admittedly want to apart from one chance at a brass ring, so I do.  


Where I go, will be where I'm meant to go.  Back home?  A new land?


Either way, it's gonna be fun, because you have to have fun.  I'm having it right now, telling you all this crazy shit that's going on.


Enjoy your fourth.  The park on a diagonal line from my back lawn is gonna host fireworks tonight.  I just have to go outside.  That will be fun.


Peace.