Once again, I’m late. There is no good excuse this time, no “Oh, we haven’t had Internet or power for the last day or two.” There is nothing so convenient available for me to point a finger at. The pure and simple fact of the matter is that I am completely at a loss on what to write about. I’ve taken more time than usual to try and find something to write about. Sadly, this did not spark any nascent creativity in me. I just feel… empty. Like there is an empty void of darkness where my inspiration and heart should be, a dark dank hole with a single 75-watt spotlight shining down on it.
That is what I see, right now, when I close my eyes. I see an empty cavernous cylindrical space, the walls black and slightly ribbed vertically. It is kind of like an enormous quasi-organic metal trashcan. You know the type, the kind that Oscar the Grouch lives in. Except, from my vantage point, you cannot see the top or bottom. In fact, it’s a seemingly endless space. A spiffy platform floats in the middle of the space, which is a strangely high-tech accoutrement for such a decidedly Spartan space. That single 75-watt spotlight shines from the mysteriously shrouded heights upon this platform. The air itself feels thick, warm, and stagnant, like the fetid breath of some horrible space monster. The entire space feels dark, scary, but somehow significant. This space was created for something, to showcase some unbelievable horror or unimaginable treasure.
By this point, dear reader, I am sure you are wondering what is on that platform. You no doubt wonder what it is that mysteriously shrouded light illuminates. For surely, all this construction, all this build up, had to be for something. I hate to break it to you, kiddo, but there is nothing on that platform. It’s the stark and shocking kind of nothing that you find inside a hermetically sealed room. The kind of nothing you see when you look at the Star Trek-style science fiction shows; the brilliantly lit and white corridors, not a spot, not a speck, not even a bit of pile of the carpet out of form. But in this expansive and dark space, with all the dirt and dank and oppressive atmosphere surrounding it, it doesn’t feel clean at all. In fact, it feels rather unfinished. Like someone began to create something, but then reached the platform, threw his hands in the air, and said, “For fuck’s sake, I’m out.”
I fear that is me. I am that mysterious creator, the person who, near the cusp of finality, of closure, of worth, gave up. I find myself jaded, cynical, and darker than I used to be. I worry too much. I complain too much. I just… I don’t know how to make it stop. Or how to turn it around, to make things better for me. I have been making steps and strides with that. I’ve been doing my best to be sociable, fun, and to keep from meddling in the lives and actions of others. Even so, sometimes I feel that I have run out of the light and laughter in my heart. I think that is the worst bit. That tight little worry and fear that I am losing my touch. That tiny little fear that I am no longer amusing. It grabs and seizes me in my darker moments, and convinces me that I am falling out of touch with reality.
I don’t know what is up with this last week. I know I kvetch and whine about not having a muse, and not having ideas… but this week is the most arid and desolate period I’ve had yet. It’s kind of like the difference between the desert of the Antarctic and the desert of the Atacama. Sure, the Antarctic is a desert, with a shortage of precipitation… but I think you’ll find the Atacama is far more arid. And it is far, far less hospitable. What I’ve felt the last couple of days defies explanation. It is not pleasant. It is not happy. But I think it’s just a lame and stupid phase.
At the end of this, I suppose that I have news of a sort to update you with.
As for my “Life-Affirming Commitments” that I started up in the very first blog post, I feel I am doing quiet well. Commitments Numbers One, Two, and Six are definitely done and completed. I am trying to work on Commitments Numbers Three, Four, and Five this week. Commitments Numbers Seven and Eight are always on the docket, but never quite seem to get solved. To be honest, those two worry me the most. Those are the two that I want to have completed the most; and by all logic and luck, they seem to be the ones that will take the longest to solve. And Commitment Number Nine is getting close to the time of action. If you want to help me with any or all of the unfinished Commitments, I will accept any and all help.
This is the last week the full edition of my blog will be seen on Facebook and MySpace. After this week, you will see a short excerpt and a hyperlink. That will be the format for the blog for the indefinite future. I feel that this is the right move for me. I want to drive traffic to my site. That will be the home of me.
Next week, I plan to continue the “A Man Down” story. That is right, I will continue the story every third week. That seems to be the best choice. If it is super-popular and awesome, I may bump it up to every other week.
It is now time for me to shamelessly whore myself to you. I want you to comment on my web site. I want your hate, your love, your thoughts, and your instincts. A lot of time, energy and thought went into [http://www.jake-morrison.com]; and I really do want it to evolve into a community of confidants, a collaboration of colleagues, a fellowship of friends. I want it to be all of these, and more. So help make my dream come true. Comment on my site. Befriend me of Facebook. And follow me as @Chiron7936 on Twitter. If you do these things, I will love you forever. Or at least until someone else does them, whichever comes first.
hey dude I know how you feel…… sometimes it seems that the more you try to get done the harder it is to accomplish it….. I love the site it just needs more freaking work! come on man! you need to have more than two pieces of work laying around!