Seems as though I've been a bit negligent here. Generally, when I don't write anything it's because I'm bumming about something or another and figure why get everyone else down. This time it's been the relentless, mind-crushing, soul-sucking entity known as work. It's not that it's that bad ... ok, maybe it is that bad, but more than any individual issue, it's the soul-sucking sameness of the place. Nothing ever changes. Nothing is going to change. I'll go on vacation, and come back to the same mind-numbing issues I left. Oh sure, the names may change, but the problems and issues remain the same. And I feel powerless to do anything about it. Aren't you glad you asked? (OK, since this is my blog, you didn't really ask, but hey, you chose to read it.)
On another subject, I'm thinking about trying to write again. I want to go back to False Face. I think I could do it better this time. Part of me thinks I should work on Murder House, but for some reason, False Face keeps calling me. I doubt I'll ever do anything with it even if I finish it, but I just feel like I need to dive into some project right now before I becomes consumed by everyday life. It just feels like I spend way too much time doing what needs to be done that I'm afraid if I don't do something to break the pattern, there's not going to be a me to do anything when I finally have the time. Does that make any sense?
Oh, and I just looked it up - Manic Monday was released in 1986 ... 20 years ago. G-d, I'm old.
And can relentlessly depressing be described as a writing style? Think there's a market for it?
Monday, June 05, 2006
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