Under a Black Rainbow

Because of the next book, I released this current one. Despite releasing Under a Black Rainbow five days ago, I've been deeply involved in the creation of the next book, which feels more immediate and has, like other projects worth completing, become its own maelstrom of things to contend with.  Though dense in topicality, I've found a way to have a little fun with it (as I usually tend to do). Fictional locales of Latin-ized stages of grief, emotional landmarks on the map, incomplete fictions, potential GPS coordinates for signifcant places in significant moments, playlists that consumed my brain during particular stints... Excited is the wrong word for this book, but there is a thrumming pulling me along and telling me it's worth telling.  So I've been busy doing what it is that I tend to do best, which is make shit for other people to consume. Enjoy these fruits from your favorite dancing monkey. Works totally in progress. May your 2024 be better than you expect, an

This is the first of these I've done on this blog since starting it almost 5 years ago. To experience both writer's block AND reader's block for close to 4 years is...well, it causes certain strains on the mental. Especially when both are so tied to who you are as a person.  I started with baby steps, using graphic novels as a kind of crutch. Not that they are lowly reading, or that there's something wrong with them, only that I know I needed to begin with formats that weren't just pure walls of text. My brain needed other ways into the narratives, and the accompanying illustrations helped dislodge me and made the reading easier. It wasn't until October, however, that I was finally able to devour some text-only books. I also started REALLY writing again.  Anyway, another hard year down. I'm going into 2024 with zero expectations as I am often let down by what actually ends up happening in reality. I'm not even doing a year in lessons post; the lessons ar

I am hemorrhaging the big and reliable emotional pillars in my life faster than I can repair or replace them. This temple is crumbling under the weight of the loss; the foundations are no longer holding this already sketchy religion aloft. 2018: Mom gets diagnosed with cancer 2019: Dad dies.  2020: Global fucking pandemic; grandmother's health begins taking serious downturns (though it's already been bad for awhile). 2021: Mom dies.  2022/2023: My grandmother's dementia is so progressed, she no longer knows who I am. My entire existence is a fiction to her. And I could spend a full day recounting every single moment of my last 44 years to her and in the minute following my last word, I would become a fucking stranger to her. I have been wiped from her memories.  I remember watching my mom, deep into her chemo sessions, have her weekly Sunday calls with my grandmother. Each conversation got worse as my mom repeatedly tried to explain her health conditions to her own mother,