This will be a slight personal comment, trapped within a larger explosion of my world. I get that hardly any of my readers (if any at all) frankly give a fuck about me, my being some amorphous critic of everyone and everything, a negative spark that tends to make people feel worse instead of better, who tries his damnedest to expose any random reader to my bleak vision of the world.
Anyway, on a much lighter and far more optimistic note, my recent absence has to do with professional responsibilities, inevitably the interference with all of our lives outside of the freedom to say whatever we want. I am writing three books simultaneously, editing three more (two of them not my own), and have been busy with phone calls and notebook scribbles over the endless interviews I have undertaken for one of the (if not my primary) works, a dense biography about both perspectives and actual reality (an increasingly questionable thing the deeper and deeper I probe). For any of you, living a life within various professions, business and law and education, blue collar or simply a student dreaming of their whatever future, let me tell you that writing as a career is not as easy as the freedom to set your own hours might seem. It is dense and mentally exhausting and sometimes you find yourself working for 40 straight hours before the blur of consciousness makes whatever ideas you have discovered into a mush of broken thoughts, the end of reality and the blathering nonsense so many self-important and self-righteous writers spurt out in confused moments they declare genius. And for those of you, wrapped up with whatever genuine responsibilities your life imposes upon you, looking to the wannabe artist with condescending and head-shaking contempt, it remains important to declare just how hard this job can sometimes be. Sure, yes, plenty of us are living our childhood dreams, those arrogant fantasies we had when we were young and imagining ourselves so much superior to all others because we focused on imagination. But this does not cause the reality of such undertakings to be ephemeral masturbation, the smug laziness of someone trying to avoid responsibility.
I am married, have a family with two children, a dog and a cat that I need to do my best to care for. And so I work very hard, never really stopping, never giving up no matter how overwhelmed and shattered the concepts ultimately become. Because this is what life is about, regardless of how hard or not you work at whichever goal, ambition and necessity you enclose about yourselves. It is about effort, about refusing to give up, about working through the problems and finding a reason to continue struggling and suffering for an end goal. This is the essence of my career. And yes, I want to talk and rant and laugh at Donald Trump’s impeachment; I would love to comment on the curious dominating victory of Boris Johnson in the shattered climate of Great Britain (or is it merely England now?) It is truly in my heart of denounce the Democrats petty attempts and the Republicans clearly ignoring both the law and the facts in order to push their partisan agendas. It is clear that the disgusting party line votes in the house and eventually in the Senate finally undermine the rationality of a political system that was once both the envy and inspiration for the entire wannabe free world. And yet we all seem to turn away from this, either cracked with the varying biases of news coverage or simply no longer caring about anything at all (and thus, deep down, a traitor to the ideology we pretend we believe in). And what we discover is a broken world swaddled in incipient anger and irrational rage where civil war is not even an option. It becomes an every-man-for-themself chaos that will break society and seek, desperately, after the destruction of the social world, some sort of strongman to restore confidence and ultimately tell us what to think and what to do. This is not, by the way, the role of a Donald Trump or even a Vladimir Putin. No, this is the guise of a terrifying future, literally out of George Orwell, that will no doubt descend should we continue along this warlike path of not actual arms and battle, but over thinking everyone and everything outside of out narrow purview is not only stupid, but is the enemy.
I did not plan on making that sort of moral argument, but simply wanted to state that I still have ideas I wish to foist upon you. Shortly I will resume some dense historical narratives (an aside to my Elsewhere series, more about the United States, outside of my own small place within this giant nation). And yet such fragmented political considerations cannot help but infuse such a narrative. And so I want to wish all of you Happy Holidays (be it Christmas or Hanukkah or Kwanzaa, or any other seasonal celebration people decide to endure on these brief days off from the struggle of our lives resumes), and a Happy New Year. I am not so hopeful of the last one, and yet wish my pessimistic outlook could be wrong this one time, making me believe myself less of a prophet than my musings have terrifyingly proven me to be. All I know is that I will hold close and quiet with my family until the dawn of 2020, leaving all of you alone, hoping that everything is fun and sweet and wonderful. I will avoid any more tragedy (at least in the public status of 2019, as I work on my miserable books you should read come 2020 and beyond–don’t worry; this site, if nothing else, is really just a promotional vehicle for my professional work. I will send you links. I will demand that you read my wares) for now, wistfully smiling at pictures of dogs and cats in Christmas gear
and the hilarity of those dark, creepy Santa Claus images from the past
(there are thousands more. Check out this horror: https://sketchysantas.tumblr.com/). And so I leave you for this year, frustrated, smugly smiling and hoping beyond hope that next year won’t be quite as awful as this one. I wish you well, I wish you well, and, no doubt, I will see plenty of you in the hell of our own making.