Schadenfreude

I got a rejection for one of my stories today, and that made me sad.  So I read Neil Gaiman's new book The Ocean at the End of the Lane...all of it.  And that made me happy.  The feeling I had while reading it was deeply nostalgic, though it is already slipping away, like a moment from childhood where you know you felt something strong and real, and even though you can remember that, you can't feel it anymore.  And all you want is to keep feeling it.  Losing that is making me sad again.  Anyway, it's a fantastic book, like all of Gaiman's work, you won't want to put it down.  And it's short, too, so you don't have to.

The Prophecy

Tremble mortal, the end is nigh.
Though maybe not for you and I
The Earth was only born to waste
And soon it takes its rightful place.
Among you humans there will be
A waking life skeleton key
And when that door wide has been flung
Descent to under world's begun.
And when you reach the worldly base
You'll gaze upon a godly face
With won'drous horror he'll enslave
Until a shovel digs his grave.

Ponderousness

Including breaking the habit of not posting to my blog, I have a number of bad habits I would like to try to minimize or completely destroy in 2013.  Yes, I know it's late for a resolution.  Fuck your calendar, people of Earth.  I dance to the beat of a different bumbler.

Excepting drawing, which I've been pretty good about, I have not been doing the things that fulfill me much recently.  I think I will need to rectify that, posthaste.  Let's start with this night time love letter to the Internet.  Thanks Internet for giving me so many wonderful things.  Also, thanks for being the instrument of indecent voyeurs everywhere, including my government, who sees fit to know what porn I am watching.  It's not good, I'll tell you that.  I'm a boring porn watcher with increasingly infrequent bouts of interest in what the deal is with this fetish or that one.  Most of them are not even exciting anymore.  I guess this is growing up.

In addition:  Where's my life going and why should anyone care?  This is important.  What gives any of our lives meaning?  Even the most brilliant of us circle the drain of relevance and slide into obscurity eventually.  And it's happening faster and faster nowadays.  Someone draino'd the existential sink and I'm not sure I like it.

Thoughts of the night, here on this post.  Hope they made sense to someone, because I'm just as clueless as when I sat down.