An Atlas of Bone & Sorrow

The title of this blog entry is also what I'm calling my new grief-based writing project. I read off several of the potential titles to a few friends and this was always the one that got the most visceral response. Honestly, it felt like the right one before eliciting the opinions of others, but I'm glad to have that affirmation. 

I've got a basic idea of the structure of the thing. I think I'll probably dig into it pretty hard this weekend since I don't have much planned for Friday or Sunday. Unplug all but the most necessary of tech items, throw on some dark ambient, work. 

I started up a new focus med called Concerta this week. It's not having quite the same effect that it did when I visited family in Indiana earlier this summer, so I'm hoping a week's worth of introduction into my system will help tilt my axis back to focused form. Though, to be honest, I've been bitch-slapped pretty hard by the oncoming winter doldrums. My friend Shannon made a good point about my current experience with the drug; the first time I tried it, I was on vacation and in a better, more open headspace than I am currently, which could be negatively influencing things. So, we continue to sit and stew and try to fix what's broken. 

As I've told a friend or two this week, I think my brain is just constantly, wildly spinning, trying to find answers to questions that I know I won't be able to answer on my own, but because I'm me and because I'm fucking stupid in this regard, I keep trying to solve the puzzle. I also keep trying to remind myself that I am surrounded by good things and good people and that I am in a better situation than a lot of other people, but my lizard brain keeps overpowering my rational brain. 

I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a little concerned about what winter has in store for me if this is how the season is starting. 

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To drown out a lot of the silence, I've been listening to podcasts of cosmic horror roleplaying podcasts. The collective storytelling involved coupled with the absolutely horrific things that occur within the story are really speaking to me. Plus when you find the right cast playing the right game, it can be like binging a great TV show. 

Which, ironically, I don't really watch as much TV now as I used to because I tend to tune into these livestreams or actual plays. I find the stories are often far more interesting and engaging, but I'm also able to do other things around the house like clean or rearrange an entire room without losing my concentration on the narrative. 

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I started this story about a King several years ago. Not a unique premise by any means, but as he ruled his people, he gradually became more of a hermit and began to hear whispers emanating from the thick stone pillars holding the ceiling of his ruling chamber aloft. These whispers would be malicious and infect his reasoning. 

He would sit in that room, passing out decrees and making decisions based on zero evidence and complete delusion, eventually souring whatever goodwill he'd built up amongst his people. Soon the whispers came from the surrounding walls as well and began to worm their way into his brain, softening an already broken mind. 

I never finished the story, but I appreciated where it was going. That this is how I currently feel sometimes is an irony that's not lost on me. Hilariously, this may be the perfect time for me to finish that story and include it in the new book. 

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I've been debating finding weird spots within an hour or two of the city to go explore. Driving long distances has been a bit tough the last couple of years, what with my leg and hip issues worsening, but I'm much more mobile these days than I have been in a while. 

I've not done much exploring of the surrounding areas and I keep hearing and seeing these interesting places, so...I think my Saturday mornings and Sunday evenings might find me unplugged and untethered. This is what I'm hoping for, anyway. 

Coronado Heights Castle | Lindsborg, KS. 

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