I am having troubles.
There was a time I wanted to write. I wrote every day, sometimes more than once. I had lots to say – most of it utter crap – but it did me good to get it off my chest and out of my head. If nothing else, it helped keep my alcohol intake level to somewhat below the merely ridiculous and helped me sleep. It helps to put the voices in your head to paper. Someone ought to try that therapy for schizos.
My problem is that I have too many voices in my head. Not only do I have entirely too many interests: politics, traveling, movies, books, music, history, wearing funny clothes; but I have too many voices through which to express various thoughts on various interests. For instance, there’s the little Mencken/Thompson/Jerusalem voice for politics which says that all politicians are thrice-damned liars who ought to be spigoted or tarred and feathered as swiftly as possible and, what’s more, that none of these richly deserved fates will befall any of them because We the People are far too tiny-minded and complacent to consider even mild revolution. Of course, it’s pretty tough to give expression to that voice when you’re trying to self-enforce a ban on the word fuck. That voice likes that word. But there’s the other political voice, the well-mannered, thoroughly reasoned pundit who has many fine and rational things to say and deep-down believes in the will of the American people and of their mission in the world.
How on earth does one reconcile the various personalities and still create something that one is proud to present to the world? Absolutely f**king impossible. So much for self imposed bans.
And as if all this weren’t complicated enough there are the things that I don’t know how to write about. The things that I want to say but probably shouldn’t, or can’t, or want to/don’t want to. It has been a decidedly shitty couple of years. From July 1, 2003 to October 8, 2006 it has been one body blow after another: the month of September 2003, December 19, 2004, July 2, 2005, October 14, 2005, April 2006, September and October 2006. I think I’ve seen the end of the truly bad times, provided death – even metaphorically – comes only in threes. But, of course, if I go back to January 2003, then we’re at three literal and one or two metaphorical deaths. Wheels within wheels.
So, now what? What’s next?
That, my friends, is the million dollar question.