One Year On, Two Years On...& the Question of the Use

I do wish for a bit better feeling than the one I have going right now. As it stands, I can look back from the end of July and see some definite steps forward, and really positive ones at that. But I still don't feel it.

Two years ago, I gave up smoking (read this as, buying $7 packs and sucking 'em down in two days...I now bum on occasion) and went back to the gym. Well, I've never really been in a gym, per se...but I went back to trying to get myself into some kind of condition, and I have to say I rather like what happened there.

I am not a weightlifter, and I have no interest in it. I primarily swim, and except for the past month as I recover from Giant Cyst Removal (you DO NOT want to know more or see pictures), I've been hitting the pool and the sauna. I meditate in the latter, and do whatever it is they say you do, when it's your body and your weight is being moved, worked, etc.

Result? I am 27 pounds lighter than when I started. I was never overweight, but the muscle is back, and I feel better than I have in about 20 years. I have not grown tired of it, though I do get pissed that I have to be very careful about this ice cream scoop sized hole in my lower back. It is healing though, so all good.

Now, about one year and a little more away from something else: Zoloft. I noted in my last blog that one of my writings, about "Post-Zoloft Psychosis" is still getting regular reads. People seem to be wanting to find out about it, and how it is going.

Well, here's where that lies: after about 14 months off the little blue pills, I find that life has returned to a semblance of "normalcy." But I am NOT normal...normal sucks, normal is boring, normal is far too mundane. Especially where I live.

I'm sorry...but you know what, Pennsylvania? With rare exceptional cases, we could lop off Pittsburgh, Philly and a portion of Harrisburg, and we could say you live in 1954. One of my old colleagues liked to gripe that the vast majority of Pennsylvania thinks, "Kennedy is still president."

No...it's Eisenhower. Hate to say that, but a lot of folks really do live in the past around here. I won't get into the political/religious/social whatever's about it, but you know what? The world has changed, beyond your door, beyond the county line, and even the state line. 

For all the people who sit glued to their iPhones, laptops, i-This and i-That (I admit, it seems my laptop and I are connected, too), there is still a non-nostalgic view of life. Instead of looking back, you still live it! The "Way it Used to Be" is OVER!

Now, that is an example of what I feel, post-Zoloft. My feelings are returning. They were always there, but I will tell you this: they are heightened once more. Not in a bad way (most of the time), but they are there, and they do again exist.

For the most part, my everyday life is all right. I do still feel the highs and lows, ecstatic and crushing respectively, and they are not always fun. I do not have delusional behavior, such as certain people do suffer when in the throes of the higher aspects--you will be relieved to know I do NOT consider myself a deity, an enlightened being or someone who lives with a view that I am a cut above. 

I am Me. Deal with it; I have to every day.

The upper and lower case emotions, feelings, etc. are 95% of the time pretty much okay. These are no different than what any person deals with; so I think for the most part what I am contending with is mild in comparison.

The darker side of it is not always so accommodating, however. There are days, were it not for the sun coming right through my bedroom window (and my cats jumping on me to alert me that the food dishes are empty), I might not get up in the a.m. Sometimes that move out of bed is near-impossible.

I write of this in my forthcoming novel, "Parasite Girls." One of the characters, Sora suffers from Bipolar Disorder, and we have talked of this here. I have a relative whom I shall not name, who is in the throes of it. 

You want to know how bad it is? In a black mood, she physically attacked her husband...she was at Maximum Rage (and I honestly don't think she realizes what she is doing)...he locked himself in a bathroom to let her run...she went THROUGH the door to get at him.  Yes, THROUGH it.

So, there's a pretty good example of the extreme side of these illnesses and disorders. My own dark side is a sight more laid back than that, but it has its moments.

When I feel the tension building inside, it does so slowly, and I've been able to kind of detect it and defuse it. Not always so easy, though; it can be black, and not fun. There are triggers, and each of us has to figure them out.

So far, I have done pretty well at it, but again there are times when I will admit I am not the person you want around when it's going down. 

I will also tell you I am not the person you want near you when you're having your own bad day. Sometimes, I just don't want to hear it. Not saying mine is worse than yours, but it feels that way.

The let-down where I begin to move in the darker direction usually comes from exhaustion, lack of sleep, lack of food, and so forth. I try to obey the law of nature when it comes to me. That sometimes does not put me on the same "clock" as the average person.

Tension again comes when I move too fast, or try to "multi-task." I have since learned that multi-tasking is the WORST FUCKING THING any of us can do!

Everybody says it's hip to be a multi-track minded person...NO. I used to be good at it; I could think on different tracks and projects, and juggle the plates well.

Not anymore. Age is part of it, but also my capacity for juggling is not there any longer.  I am not a person who has to focus 100% on one thing and one thing only, don't get me wrong. It's not OCD stuff; I just have to do things a little differently.

Story of my life right there.

What comes along with the body again making the stuff that the Big Z no longer does? Well, mine did start producing Serotonin (I think that's what it is) again after years of not having to or being able to. I am for the most part feeling okay with my body doing the things it does.

I have to add to it--my physical activity is a part of the well-being, that is for certain. It needs to be done. 

My diet is vegetarian, but believe me I'm not a flesh-of-dead-animals nut! What you eat is your own damn business. This works for me.

Ah...you know this fits into what I want to talk about next...wait for it...

SOCIAL MEDIA.

Yeah...we are connected to it aren't we? I admit as much as the next person. I am not one of those people that's against it, but I'm seeing over the years just how that can be death of you. The things you say, post, etc?

Learning that lesson, believe it.

My Facebook Newsfeed is interesting...I will tell you a lot of people that are my friends are NOT on it, because of the content and the stuff that people consider newsworthy to put up there. I admit...I confess...I put shit up there that most of you would scratch your heads and say, "Wha....?"

I'm working on it...each day I try to work on everything, I really do.

Now...one thing that may have estranged me from "friends," is the perception, and it is often incorrect, of when a person posts something...what is the intent behind it?

A joke? A deeply-held political view? An emotion that must be released, right this second? Or how about this one...ARROGANCE?

I am pretty sure that I'm wrong, but some of the things people put up make me feel like if you said that to my face, I'd be like...WTF?!?

I try not to even look anymore. So what else does this say?

Even with a bright sunny day and less humid, oppressive weather, I cannot feel that good about it. Some days I get it, and it's alright. Others, not so much.

As I write, a letdown is coming, and I try to not think too much about what it is doing to me. You don't need drugs to feel this way...some of us are to quote George Carlin, "paranoid on (our) own."

This is the world I live in. It's not a terribly depressing place on its own, but has its moments. I do my best, each day. I am not a devotional person, meaning I do not feel the need to ritualize my life. There are things I do, on my time that work when they do. I do not expect things to be handed to me; I do what I need to, in order to make those things happen, but it's nice when the universe is cool and lets you see something that says to you, you're doing it right.

Just as I've said, these blogs are not edited, hardly. I don't go back and check for grammar or any of that. You get Me, in the raw unadulterated form when I write on this blog. If anything, I am honest, heh.

NOW...a little shameless plugging:

http://www.behance.net/torygates

Again, on this page you will find a proof of Chapter 1 of "Parasite Girls." The update is thus: Mitch Bentley of Atomic Fly Studios is working on the cover, and soon I hope that we shall have something to share as we get ready for the launch. 

There are also audio tracks from my radio work (my prime income source for the moment), plus other writings, and bits. Hope you'll take the time to check them out.

Each day is a day, and you do what you can with each one. To borrow another colleague's phrase, "That's it, that's all."

Updates, and New Steps Forward

Well, it has been a while, hasn't it? An awful lot has occurred since my last post, and I'll try to keep it concise. I'm not very good at that, as my posts are all one draft, not the edited, sculpted crafted work that is my writing.

"America Drinks and Goes Home" is going thorugh my iTunes and headset. Jean-Luc Ponty's version...my old school friend Jeremy sent me two boxes of CD's after he burned everything to computer...thank you, for turning both me and my friend Alice onto him. "King Kong," for those who don't know is Ponty's album of mostly Frank Zappa compositions. Works for what I'm doing here.

So...first a brief medical update: on the 1st, I underwent minor surgery to repair the old cyst issue in my leg which I wrote of earlier. The sebaceous cyst on my jaw is gone, and the one on my back is gone, kind of.

These things are not cancerous or dangerous, just there. The one on my back was the largest my surgeon had ever seen. The healing process is a long one, because it must heal from the inside out. So it's keep it clean, keep it bandaged, and stay outta the pool. I will not bore or gross you out further; I'm okay.

Now: it's time to shamelessly plug things!

https://www.facebook.com/ToryGatesMedia?ref=hl

The above is my new Facebook page: Tory Gates Media is a hub, which will direct you to the various places that you shall find my work. This includes the ReverbNation page of the Dharma Fools, and this:

http://www.behance.net/torygates

Behance is a site that is primarily used by graphic designers, so far as I can tell, but I fell in love with the site. Here you will find audio tracks from music projects (more as time goes on, bear with me), snippets of audio projects specifically for radio (in particular, WITF, Radio PA and others), and my writing.

Up at this point are rough cut openings for "Parasite Girls," "The Drifters" and "Time the Healer." I am very interested in what people think of these. As I say, apart from "PG" they are works in progress. I shall put up more as time goes by.

I appreciate the feedback, good or bad. I need to know. I am thankful to friends interested in the Young Adult and Anime worlds who have taken the time to check my stuff out. Their thoughts are constructive and useful.

This is a long, slow haul and an exercise in patience. I was talking with a friend recently, and at times you get a feeling that you've been braked to a stop. It's like, okay, I've done all this, but I don't feel like I'm moving at all.

Sometimes you have to take a break, stop, etc. Not much you can do at times, but you also have to know the limits, and that sort of thing.

So that is where we are: now, one last thing:

I have noticed in recent weeks, that a blog post I wrote over a year ago is getting slow, but steady traffic. It is the one I wrote about Post-Zoloft Withdrawal--the title included Psychosis, and that was partly a dark attempt at a joke. 

In my life, and my family's that took a pretty dark turn recently.

I am interested that so many people are still reading that blog about what happened to me when I went cold turkey on the Big Z. I think it's time to write the "Year After" blog, and I will do that soon. It has been a rough year at times, but in other ways it has been better.

I hope it will help.

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.