A little bit of bullshit…

I’m alive, Much to anyone reading this’ chagrin and/or disbelief. I used to think what I’d get with my small lapses of posts was writers block, but these last few months I’ve really been struggling to even come up with ideas to write about. The only thing that has changed at the moment is that I had an epiphany last night. I’m not going to go into that right now just because I just don’t feel like explaining it.
Regardless, I’ve gotten, at least, that spark to get me sitting down and writing about anything. This should at least get my brain going in a good direction to get back to work on something I used to love doing so very much. For now though, I’ve decided to dabble in a little philosophical rabble, what a lot of people might call just a little bit of bullshit:

 

Cogito Ergo Sum. By this statement we are defined as real simply by the act of questioning our very existence, whether we think we are formed in someone else’s dream or something conjured  up by some other-worldly apparition.
What I question is not that I am real, but what defines reality in itself. How do we know what we see, feel, and experience before us is really what we’re experiencing outside of our minds eye telling us so.
That being the case, how do I know I really appear as I think I do. I mean, i already know that, at least visually, I’m seen differently as exampled by when I look at myself in a mirror and I look at myself in a picture. Not a grand example, but simple. What I mean is, how would I, or anyone, really know they aren’t some energy blob projecting what my mind has told itself what it wants to be, or some strange mass of smaller life forms that come together as a collective hive-mind or that instead of the universe being the big ALL that encompasses everything, it’s merely a spec of an particle that makes up an atom, or any number of possibilities that could easily be conjured away just because all of our minds tell us so. If that’s the case, we can only accept our reality based on what a collective consensus tells us.
Now I’m sure to hear the argument about how The collective consensus cant bend reality to its own whims, but consider that for a few thousand years, people thought the world was flat. Now whether it was right or wrong, they believed it to be their reality, so strongly that if you said otherwise you were probably burned for heresy. Whether it was right or wrong, it became their reality,
Given that misunderstanding, how are we to definitively say that the reality we think we believe is the utmost absolute truth of reality as we’ve come to know it. Even the proof can be false in a sense that it all could not be real or different just because we see it so. I’m not speaking scientifically though, just philosophically so keep that in mind.

TTFN
Mega.

A short return!

Hello, for those of you willing to stop your busy lives to read this, I have finally started to settle in at my new home in Ohio! All kinds of new exciting things have been happening, and I don’t think I’ve ever been happier.

I know what you’re all thinking:

“But, you’re a writer! You can’t write and have joy in your life! THE UNIVERSE WILL TEAR ITSELF APART!”

Normally, I would vehemently agree, but I’ve been finding that I can think more clearly here, and am not constantly waiting for the next shit storm to occur every hour, on the hour (don’t mark me wrong, I’m still expecting shit-storms, just far fewer and longer inbetween).

With that said, I’ve had quite a few ideas in the last few weeks, one of which is just taking a very old work of mine, and converting it from a novel, into a short play! Exciting, isn’t it?

That’s all i can muster for now, Folks.

Flipping you on the see-side,

Mega

Anxiety Break

News: Not much on the old CES front I’m afraid. Cruz is a phantom, or more likely, a Fart in the wind.  While I am entering a state of hopelessness when it comes to any past mentioned comics, I continue to trudge forth, writing some scripts and getting back to regular, novel style, writing.  Also I am getting closer and closer to moving, so wish me luck.

Well, here’s something new for you somewhat loyal readers. Not quite a short story, but something I’ve been working on, on and off. Now for those of you noticing errors and lines that just don’t fit, this is my first draft of the first part of something bigger. I am looking for critiques and feedback in terms of idea and paragraph structure.

Anxiety Break (Part 1, first draft)

I blinked.

Looking at the dark, shaded buildings around me, then down to the rain soaked street, realizing that I was definitely not where I fell asleep, I felt the middle of my chest tightening and my breathing started to quicken. The cigarette in my mouth fell, as I put my hand to my forehead, retracting suddenly and grabbing my chest instead, shocked from the feel of leather against my skin, realizing I was wearing gloves.

“Great Dom,” I thought. “You’re having a panic attack. It’s gonna be bad if you don’t calm the FUCK down.”

I calmed myself the best way I could. Inhaling deep, then exhaling slowly, doing anything I could to clear my mind until I could completely calm down. It wouldn’t do me any good to think about anything ‘til I can put an end to this panic attack.

Finally, the pain in my chest started to subside. I looked around, and then at myself to gather as much information as possible, before getting up.

“Where the hell am I?”

Searching for some semblance of where the hell I was, or what the hell was going on, I started to look around again.

“Buildings or street signs…” I muttered, thinking out loud to stay focused, “One diner, two warehouses, payphone and… THERE! Street sign!

Chamberlain Street. Looking further at the cross street. Ok 38^th and Chamberlain. Well, that answered one question.

“What the hell am I wearing?”

Every single piece of clothing I was wearing was unrecognizable to me; a long dark trench, black shirt, leather gloves, slacks and hard-soled shoes. It was all foreign to me in both material and style, more upscale than I’m used to. What made me feel even more uncomfortable was that everything felt broken in.

With that thought in my head, I knew I needed to focus on something else before that uncomfortable feeling triggers another panic attack. My eyes targeted the cig I just dropped. I needed to find everything about that damned smoke. It was a Pall Mall..

“Why the hell would I smoke Pall Mall’s?” I asked myself aloud. “Wait, I don’t smoke anyway, so why’s it matter?”

While I don’t smoke (or at least I thought I didn’t), what bothered me most was the brand. If I were going to smoke anything, It would definitely be Marlboros. It was the same brand my parents smoked as I grew up, so I was familiar. Also I liked the smell of their tobacco. So yes, with the smell and family tradition, I definitely wouldn’t be smoking Pall Malls.

I know it’s not important, but these little thoughts are keeping me from going crazy about the bigger issues. Mainly, finding out what the fuck is going on!

In this completely surprising situation, I tried being hopeful that I at least had my wallet and phone, things I never leave the house without.

Damn.

In my search, I found a pack of smokes, keys, a wallet and phone, none of which were mine.

“Shit,” I thought, out loud. “I can’t even call Julie. She’d never answer an unknown number this late at night.”

Wait, just what time is it anyway?

Checking the phone, I pressed on it.  It was a nice phone, actually, one of those touch-screen phones. If I had the money I would get one for my…

Wait a minute. I’m envying myself. Damn, this is insane.

The background was a cute looking woman, probably in her mid-twenties, smiling and posing for it. It was too candid to be a picture that came with the phone, so I assumed I would eventually have to talk to this person to find anything more about what the hell was going on.

Clearing my head, I finally focused on the time. . It was Three-thirty in the morning. Double damn it.  If any of this crap happened in the last 24 hours, that means I’ve been out of it for at least seven. I really need to start figuring this all out.

The wallet needed inspecting first. Black leather, kind of like mine, just newer, but it felt heftier. Of course there were the usual items, discount cards, business cards, identification, and what would be the heft, cash. Ignoring the money, for now anyway, I checked out the I.D, hoping for a clue where I should head next.

I don’t know why, but I wasn’t entirely surprised to see my face on the I.D., but the name, was definitely not mine. What was even more interesting was that this name was on the business cards I found too. Michael Syracuse, Private Detective.

Looking at Michael’s card, I say Michael because I want to separate myself from this person until I get a handle on what’s going on, an idea as to why I was in the street in the middle of the night came clear. He was a fully licensed private detective, with his own office too. For some reason I felt a little proud, don’t ask me why.

After thinking things over, I decided that I would have to go to this guy’s office for the night, since I had nowhere else to go. Without my keys, I couldn’t get into my apartment ‘til I could get a hold of Julie, who I can’t call ‘til at least Eight, even if she did believe me, and I’m not going to risk going to this guys place, only to find the girl in the picture there waiting, starting conversations that would just go bad. That said, I pulled out the phone and called a cab.

That’s all for now,

Mega

Alas… Poor CES, We don’t know what to do with ye.

Well, last time I told you that we had a new artist to work with, but I haven’t heard from them since posting that lol.  Cruz, while still somewhat active, is only heard from maybe once every two weeks, so it is hard to Collaborate with him.

I’m kind of at a loss. I really want to keep this up, but lately I’ve felt like I’ve had no good ideas, and when I do, I can’t seem to put them down into words. I’ve never had this problem to such an extent before. And to make it worse, the things I have written and worked on already, I have no way to get it out in the way I see it in terms of art and none of them seem to fit if I put them down into a story.

Ideas. That’s how I start. Just a silly or ambiguous idea about a character and how they relate to another person, or object in a certain context, and build from there. Then i usually look back and see if there’s a deeper meaning for how I want this character to be, or how they relate to the other character, or how they express something, and Usually i end up finding something out about myself. It’s a form of self-realization for me.

That isn’t to say it’s the only reason why I want to write and do things like Crooked Glasses or the other thousand ideas I’ve had rolling around in my head. I mean if it were, it would’ve been a lot less painful to just go through therapy. This is what I want to do with my life. I like the thought that maybe someone will get some joy from something I write. I may have trouble finishing things sometimes, or most of the time,  but when i do get something finished, I like to think at least some people like it. never know who, I tend to never get any feedback on it when I ask.

Foreboding, I know, right?

Anyway, I just needed to get that out, been frustrated thinking about moving (Moving in with my girlfriend) and other external factors, for months, and keep putting things off, like writing, for a good couple months now. To compensate, I’ve taken up constructive reading. I picked up Alan Moore’s Guide to Writing Comics and The Complete Idiot’s Guide to Creating a Graphic Novel. Just to give myself an idea of what direction to go in. Hell,  I’m even open to advice if anyone who reads this would give it.

Slightly Forlorn,

Mega

An overdue vacation…

Now, while I have been promising, again and again, to provide new material for this page, I keep getting overwhelmingly befuddled by my living situation. This is not new, nor unexpected, just something I deal with. Anyway, it just means my work keeps getting second guessed and dead ended. Although I have kept up, albeit slowly, with my script writing and idea storming, I have not yet been able to finish anything I’ve set out and started. That being the case, I’m taking a vacation.

I’m currently stationed at my brother’s house, watching Sherlock Holmes with him and his wife. This may not seem like much of a vacation at all, but after spending a few days just away from what my normal day-to-day life has become, gives me some repose and sets me at ease, or at least lets me get all that pent up rage out of my system and reset the old “hate gauge”.

That being said, I’m looking forward to getting home and getting back to, what I hope to be, my life’s work.

Yawning with a sense of full-belly satisfaction,

Mega