Writing start: 10:53 A.M.
Finish: 3:25 P.M.
Total new words (est.): 700
Edited (est.): 9500 + 6 poems + 2 book blurbs
1. Failure: Read-through of chapter twenty-three
2. Book Three Melody: 300 new words
Notes: Sometimes less is more when describing overwhelming emotions.
3. Ant Story: Off till next Thursday
4. Fractalverse V5: Third secondary edit of the fourth set of six poems; edit current blurbs
5. Cheapery St. Heroes: BII: Stage one edit of chapter four; edit current blurbs
6. Rapscallion: Read-through of chapter three
7. Gilligan: Off
8. T-Bag: 400 new words
Notes: More of the story came to me today. Very exciting!
Special Projects: None today
Extra notes: My birthday tomorrow. The big 5-7. Friggin' crazy, that is.
This world has tried to off me many times. I've been assaulted, homeless, ripped off, backstabbed, betrayed, manipulated, robbed, abandoned, and ridiculed. I've gone through drug withdrawal that at one point had me pointing a loaded .38 at my temple; I've endured panic attacks, scar tissue on my heart, a flu that was so bad I nearly died, and defamation and hate from both my so-called families (I'm adopted, and both have disowned me), several siblings of whom even made death threats against me on more than one occasion.
I've never been a popular person, and in fact have gone out of my way on many occasions not to be popular. It all depended on the crowd. One of my life mottoes is:
There are some people who, if they like you, there is something wrong with you that they do.
I've lived on the west coast of the United States for the past seventeen years as of the end of this month. I came originally from Colorado, where I spent nearly forty years. I have no intentions of ever going back. I'm glad that Colorado is finally going blue politically, but truthfully, factoring that out, I can think of nothing positive to say about its people. Coloradans tend to be a snobby, uppity, pretentious lot. They fancy themselves fitter, smarter, and more social-savvy than the rest, especially those from neighboring states. They are prototypical yuppies, though many are anything but young these days. They've enshrined the 80s attitude of More! More! More! and Me! Me! Me! and turned them into social policy. A more selfish, self-centered lot there is not to be found--and this coming from a guy who lived in Southern California for more than a decade!
Do you remember Steve Dallas from Bloom County? There's your typical Coloradan, male or female.
I exiled myself in early 2002 and haven't looked back. Good riddance.
I read just the other day that the Denver Broncos have just concluded back-to-back losing seasons, the first time in almost half a century. Good. There's a team that has lost its way, thanks to John Elway, who uses it to promote his Donald Trump-loving political views. To hell with it, and to hell with him. Here's to hoping that they endure a third consecutive losing season.
I don't keep up with anybody back there. There are a couple stalkers from Colorado who show up occasionally in my pageview stats; I've long since learned to blow them off. The scars of my time there will never fully heal, and so on occasion, usually in the early mornings, I wake and think of those who seemed to take such delight in doing me harm. It's just the cost of being me, I suppose.
This society rewards conformity and punishes rebels. Nowhere is that more true than Colorado. I'm certain it's still true, despite the red-to-blue change in political power. The people there just seem to really love their herds even more than others do theirs. I just couldn't--and wouldn't--deal. And so I was treated as the enemy.
I don't believe in herds. I believe human beings evolved beyond them. I believe in authentic community, yes. I'd even go so far as to say I believe in tribes. But herds? No. Human herds are the curse of this age, and are likely the death of the species as a whole. What makes a collection of people a herd? When that collection refuses to believe facts over its structural beliefs--the beliefs that brought the community together in the first place; the beliefs that members of that collection must adhere to in order to belong. When that happens, that community or tribe is no longer either, and has devolved into a herd.
There are other factors that make such collections herds, but that's the most important one. And Colorado has thousands of them, thundering over the high plains, pooping in the high country, summiting fourteeners in their latest REI gear, facebooking with their suburban "friends," eating brie cheese and drinking white wine, partying in Aspen and having cute little suburban homes in places like Superior or Lafayette.
None for me, thanks.
In 2012 Kye and I moved to Northern California, so northern, in fact, that we were just two miles from the Oregon border. In 2014 we made it official and moved across the border to Gold Beach.
Oregon has got its share of problems, don't get me wrong. It's been called the "Mississippi of the West Coast," and that's not too far off the mark. There's a lot of a Deliverance feel to rural Oregon. Lots of survivalist nutjobs. Lots of racism and bigotry. Lots of point-blank ignorance.
But as far as I can tell, Steve (or Stevie) Dallases aren't really prevalent out here. The cool people--the liberal, progressive, pot-smoking, inclusive folks--don't get into that shit. It's true that Portland is pretty bad with the whole yuppie thing--at least its suburbs. But that's true of all major metropolitan areas. Suburbanism isn't tied to one place. It's a vile philosophy found everywhere. Here in Oregon, it isn't anywhere near as bad as Colorado.
I'm happy here in Oregon. It's got two things that I love: mountains and the ocean. What I love even more is that in many places here the mountains and the ocean meet. You just can't get better than that.
57 tomorrow. What a friggin' ride it's been.