No, I'm not dead. But I think about it a lot.

I've got a back-log of posts that I will put out as soon as my computer gets fixed. They will fill-in the blanks for you. Whoever you are.

But the more important news is: I've just been fired. Another retail shit-job I couldn't hold down. A better man, most men, most women, could have easily held it.




This is the way the world ends.
This is the way the world ends.
This is the way the world ends.

Not with a bang, but with a whimper.

My wife is making me write. It was either write or walk the dog. I don’t know if this was the right choice.

You see, we’re in this informal writer’s group, and we meet Tuesday nights. Heather and this wild, old guy named L.D. from our church came-up with it. We’ve got two other church members to join us - a business prof who writes novels and another English major, in roughly the same limbo as I – though younger, who writes poems and essays.

At first, I was very excited by the idea, especially the aspect of accountability. Our rule is: if we don’t write what we say we are going to write for the week, then it costs you a dollar per unwritten page. I thought this would be a great catalyst to get me truly writing. But . . . I’m empty. I’m dry. And I certainly have no plan.

There are plenty of day-to-day events to write about – journal style. But I have no story to tell you. I have no plot to give you. I have no people to show you.

. . . no, that’s a lie. What I do not have is belief in the meaning of these plots and characters. I have no belief, no faith, in myself. Not that that matters – it is God I must rely-on.

And does God want me to write? I don’t know. I know I like the feel of writing. I like the output. I like the creation. In the beginning was the Word.
Does God want me to live? I think that is the more important question, and I know the answer. I know the answer every time I go to a poetry slam.

So does it still matter whether I write or not? Even if I have nothing to write about . . . or rather, no belief that whether or not I write makes a difference?

Do I believe that my writing matters? Do I believe that my dreams matter? . . . Do I believe that my life matters? And is this a logical progression or just bullshit?

Well, I believe that when we feel the furthest from God, we are the most in need of praying. And, I learned from the movie Bringing Out The Dead, that sometimes you have to keep the body going, until the heart and mind can catch-up, until they're ready to live on their own again.
. . . I butchered that quote, but it means that I’m going to keep writing. Meaning will come.

I guess I’ll be putting money in the jar again this week. And as long as this group is giving Don, Seth and L.D. what they need, then I’ll keep going. I’ll go try to be alive for a little while, try to keep the body going.