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Getting out of bed was difficult this morning. There was a car chase of some kind involving lots of police officers in squad cars early this morning that woke me up around 4:45 am. Then I didn’t want to get up. Bed is simply too warm and cozy.
Since my reading at Gatsby Books in Long Beach earlier this month, I feel like I entered some sort of transitional phase. The day after the reading was the beginning of the end of Phase 1 of my journey. I didn’t realize that Phase 1 had ended until just recently. My mood is different. Maybe it’s California, I told myself. Maybe I need a break, I wondered… and so on… I didn’t realize there was going to be different phases to this journey when I started, but obviously, there has to be different phases, different stages of action, reminiscing, peace of mind, et cetera. What was Phase 1? Going West for a book reading?? I guess. Getting out of Austin and going somewhere else?? I had a goal and a destination. Now what? What am I doing now?
I don’t know. All I know is that I want to write and publish at least one new book in 2016.
Anyway, I’ll figure it out. Everything is different, at least in the way that I perceive the world around me. I need to find a place to settle for a few months so that I can get to work on my next book, so that I can get into some sort of routine for a while–turns out I like routine–so that I can put a few pennies away and ready myself for the next big road trip, either to the East Coast, or back to Texas.
This is why you haven’t heard much from me lately. It feels as if I am not sure how to share my days with you right now, hell I don’t even realize half the time that I am even here, that the days are coming and going–I stayed 10 days in San Rafael for example… where did the time go? It was wonderful visiting and hanging out with one of my oldest friends, and we hadn’t seen each other in such a long time.
Now, I realize that this melancholia came from this weird grey area of not knowing. I like to know stuff. I like to have a goal, to be heading somewhere, even if I never get there, even if destinations change in the middle–it’s the journey not the direction, so the cliche goes–but the direction is really important as well, it turns out.
Also, it’s been hard to talk about myself recently. I want to talk about something else. To find a way to talk about subjects that matter to me, such as politics, racism, poverty, people who are constantly overworked, poor, bashed on by many others, and who have very little ways to defend themselves, the people who are invisible, who walk through life without anybody else seeing them… and I’d like to get back to a place of discovery, where every day is a new adventure and a new discovery.
That’s where I’m at right now. Looking for a job so that I can rebuilt the contents of my coffers, and looking for new adventures.
California is a beautiful place. It’s also a pretty fucked up place, just like the rest of America, except here it is in your face. There are tent cities downtown San Francisco because people cannot afford to live there. Tents on the side walk, under bridges and highways. There are people in almost every city I’ve visited who live full time in RV’s on the side of the street because they cannot afford to live otherwise. Many of them have full time jobs. And yet, this place is so incredibly beautiful and the countryside is amazing. It’s also depressing here, because everywhere you look, you see people struggling to barely survive.
Peace & Love
PS: The featured image at the top of this entry of me inside the warehouse of Small Press Distribution is by Ann Jastrab
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