No Sleep

                                                              photo by Howard Lake

 I've been doing okay. The days melt into each other. I swear I posted last week, but it seems I posted over a month ago.

Put a story into No Sleep on reddit and in a way it's been a great experience. 

No Sleep is a group collection of frightening stories that are all true. Really they are. Promise.

If you want to read mine, press here.

I know it's not pro, but 38 thousand people read it and I got 88 percent upvotes and a guy made a video out of the thing and I'm really, really happy. 

When I get stories in magazines--well, the magazines are very cool, but I don't know how many people read them and it's a lengthy process. Full of rejections, waiting.

This was fast.

Like lightening fast, I just wrote it, and sent it, and boom.

I know it's amateur, but it was so much fun. Like jumping into a cold lake on a hot summer day.

It was refreshing.

Will I send them another one? I don't know, but maybe I will.

Fall's here. I like it. Zesty breezes.

Meanwhile, I've sent out more stories to respectables. And...I'm waiting. The usual.

Wish me luck.

Words

                                                    photo by charcoal soul

Nice day today. It’s getting a little cooler around here. Still hot, but not scorching. Looked out at the trees from the windows in my bedroom.

Then I worked on a story.

I've taken a long time off. Family issues.

It feels strange to be writing again. Some things still come natural and other things are shaky. Like I’m in the process of getting my brain together into pages where once I didn’t have to think about it.

It will be flowy for awhile and then it’s not as flowy as it used to be.

I’m not worried because I know I’ll fix it in the mix.

By the time I’m finished no one will be able to tell the stops and starts of my work.

It will just be a story.

Unless of course I throw it out before I’m done. And go back to looking out my bedroom window. And forget about being a writer for a bit.

I don't think I will, but it's always a possibility. 

I’m just not worried about it though. That gives me a freedom.

I do like words.

Not genius.

 

                                          Photo by Alexander Henning Drachmann

Getting back to posting after a while.

Thinking of starting a substack, but I don't know if I have enough to say. 

Also, don't know if anyone listens or no one listens. 

Some kind of stats thing, but I'm really bad at graphs. Don't know what they mean. If the graph goes up does that mean someone was here or is that just me it's recording?

Sometimes the graph seems up a few notches and then sometimes it seems level and sometimes it goes down a little

To tell the truth, I don't know what it's saying.

I'm not an idiot, but I'm very bad at math.

Anyone there?

I'm a better writer then anything else, but I'm not a genius writer.

Published somewhat. 

Will I get anywhere?

We shall see, what we shall see.

Card from Kyle Gray's Divine Master Oracle Cards. Art by Jennifer Hawkyard.

Dream

 

photo by Sohaib Ghyasi

Nothing much happening around my neck of the woods. No news is good news.

Shame about  Afghanistan. President Biden makes it sound like their army is a cowardly one who won’t fight, but I’m wondering if they’re severely outnumbered, can’t seem to find this info in any of the articles I’m reading, don’t know where to look; only the basics seem to filter down to me.

The days here are hot, but now cooling off a little. Yesterday was pleasant: a breeze. The problems of the world swirl around the back of my brain like awful fiction contradicting my quiet American suburb. The problems seem unreal, but they’re not.

Unless you call everything unreal. All the physical universe a dream.

The Key

photo by Everyday Basics

Times New Roman or Courier New? That’s the question. Which will offer me more success? Times New Roman makes me come off as the literary sort, whereas Courier New might make me come off as an efficient sort. So what are they looking for--literary or efficient? And which type matches my personal lifestyle compartment?

This and other important questions of the day examined.

News at eleven.

The key to successful and professional goal-setting is one’s ability to delegate. If I delegate my writing career to an enthusiastic underling, I can maintain what I’m good at: eating, sleeping, and staring at the ceiling.

Should I change my name to David Rich? The trouble is there’s another writer named David Rich. I might get mixed up with him. There’s a journalist on Jewish issues named Dave Rich, but I don’t believe people will think I’m him, although coincidentally my mother was Jewish. I’m not too into the judo-christian scene, though. Some things I like about it, but I see it mostly as just rules and regulations. I believe in the Universe, or God, or the Lord and the Lady, or I don’t know… What am I going about?

One must learn to focus. Laser-like focus.

Work four hours a week and vacation the other one hundred and forty. The key to ultimate fulfillment.

Short and Basically Sweet

So one piece glided into the other. Of the story I’m writing. I wasn’t even trying for it. A perfect ice capade moment. If it’s all this easy, I actually like writing. I knew that anyway, but when everything’s a mud puddle, I forget. Right now I won’t go on anymore about, because I don’t want to jinx myself.

Beautiful day today. I love it when the skies blue, even when it’s cold, but it’s warm.

A nice laughing Buddha statue came in the mail and it looks really good. You can’t tell by the online photo. I mean everything looks good ‘til you get it. That’s why I have so many horrible tarot decks, but this laughing Buddha is the bomb.

It feels nice to feel happy. I know my happiness should be totally inward and not dependent on material things or the the temporal fluctuations of fate, but at least I’m happy. That’s a plus.

Unless I’m too happy. Uh-oh!