No inspiration all week and weekend and then on the edge of sleep...
Early days of monterey. Spiders, many, invisible to others. Diameter of two or so quarters side by side. They threaten and control. Especially concerning sex/women. In my clothes. Always with me. In my thoughts. Not allowed to think about certain things or they hurt me with their bites. Their poison always within me, usually slightly nauseous. Don't eat well. Don't sleep well. Always on edge. Nerves frayed. Exhausted. Never able to relax and enjoy. All human interaction stilted.

Short story.

Back hasn't hurt at all the last few weeks. It used to wake me up at 2 to 4 AM from pain. Hasn't done that in a year or two. But more recently sometimes it would hurt when running (the slight twisting motion) but that was related to trying to pull something towards me with one hand. (Disney spin ride, one arm rows). But still it would often just be very stiff. Like after driving to work, couldn't straighten out very well when first standing.

Last few weeks not even any stiffness. Best it has been in years. Not sure why. We do have this new mattress, but we've had it for maybe close to 6 months...? It seems to mostly coincide with doing longer running intervals (5/4's) but that doesn't really make sense to me.... Only other thing I can think of is that I've been doing some shadow boxing.

So last night slept in the guest room on standard mattress. Back felt fine. Don't want to take this for granted.

Theoretics, traipse, snedkenbergo. Rubliks.

It's so obvious and utterly missed. With the right person years could have been saved. But never the right person. Feel as if a forgetting is necessary to go forward.That I must lose my previous self to progress. That though is surely wrong thinking?

So obvious. And so easy. But no, for so long. Why?

Why?

yesterday did first outside run in a long time. Finally decently warm. 5/4's x 6. Did the first half mile (slightly downhill) of the last rep in 3:12. Have some soreness the next day. Muscles opposite calves.

Writing: what is something I wished existed? Is a question to ask but, must include in the answer sentient creatures. Can't just be an empty place or places. Or one single shard of a character feeling one emotion.

I dream of logical people. Openminded people. Emphathetic people. Vegans. Of socialism. Of massive greenhouses. Of endless castles. Of people in general who create more art. Instead of 1 person for every million producing some mass produced thing (exaggeration). Of people more connected to growing food... not saying growing food isn't largely automated... But a smaller scale automation. Not all done three hundred miles away by one guy. Something more self sufficient. Where we're not in such danger of starving soon. Where we're empowered and aren't so dependent.

The thing is, not the societal changes but the kind of people it would take for such a society. The current one isn't it. But what is? Simply me. How can I dream of me? Seems meaningless.

My red plain story. Sort of got to 7000 words... But there aren't characters really. There are the mostly mindless demonic things on the red plain. (People who've gone insane from endless torture, endless dying and reborn and dying, but whom weren't really such good people to begin with...) And a main character who is driven by what really? Who is special why?
Never truly answered that question. And what of other characters? What of actual interaction? Of course story is not working out.

People have to come first. Alas they don't. I make them all the same... Or the ones who are different are just stupid.

Mystery. Why is this person so mean? Why do they have it in for me?

The experimental cook. Throw elements together (characters/shards of actual humans) and STEP BACK and see what happens. Works pretty well when writing music with a midi sequencer, Possibly nonsensical to apply to writing.

To me everyone can easily be everything. There are no meaningful boundaries of one character versus another. To me, people are constantly changing. To me.

Must understand that, although yes, people are often highly interchangeable, they certainly really aren't all the same. It is an oversimplification on my part to think otherwise.

Oversimplification results in boredom. The categories are too few. And ultimately everything is the same.  The same thing over and over. Such oversimplification and having so few categories is most likely the result of stupidity on my part. And through this stupidity, I have so far failed badly as a writer.

Perhaps first and foremost I need to stop oversimplifying. I need to see that people very clearly aren't all the same and that they aren't all different simply as a result of more or less intelligence. People have a wide assortment of different qualities.

For what it's worth though I would like to qualify that this "oversimplification" maybe ultimately has some real basis other than stupidity. Ultimately we're all organisms trying to find food, shelter... safety. There are of course many things that are universal. But I have a habit of glossing over the differences because I'm afraid I'll get lost within them. To think that we're all ultimately the same is a positive thing to say, in a sense. It's a recognition of some common ground. As opposed to viewing others as utterly foreign. But it's possible to think we have common ground at the same time that I still really Note differences. Not managing to do both is a failing on my part.

And of course in most stories, characters are just shards. Differences are exaggerated. Hmmpf. Which is the exact opposite of what I do in general I suppose...? Somewhat. Perhaps.

Last post was some grumpiness from physically not feeling well. Combined with other semi-legitimate things.

The Emperor's Blade by Brian Stavely

Hmm, don't know what the title refers to. Liked this though. Liked Kaden and Tan learning the Vaniate. Liked "The Process is the Goal". I don't feel like saying more really... this book just went well especially with my trip to Atlanta. Finished it about 15 minutes from home. Perfect. Was a really nice trip. Very happy I overcame the stomach flu and was able to go.

So you've got Kaden off learning the Vaniate with the monks. Valyn is a bad ass fighter. Adare is minister. Their father, the emperor, is assassinate. There's a plot to get rid of all of them, I guess. And some alien race not seen in thousands of years is coming back. Not great, but pretty good. What i really liked though, again, was the Vaniate/the Monks.

I need to work more at enjoying the process of writing instead of worrying about the finished product I guess. Need to learn from what I manage to do with music. But I've been saying that, more or less, for many years. Maybe I need to think like a cook. Throw things together and step back and see what happens. In a sense that went on with writing music. Simply practicing music doesn't apply so very much. An issue is that "stepping back" when writing doesn't necessarily make sense. But will work on finding a way to "step back" and see what happens when elements are put together................

Imaginary eyes still have some small importance to me and thus the following is viewable by anyone. The imaginary eyes I guess they have internet access but are not in my head.

I have to get a little crazy and try and fail a lot more.

Been sick with stomach virus. Did a bout of vomiting which is so horrible for me. Maybe it just has me in a bad mood. Keep thinking about ugly things. But then everything seems ugly when I've got nausea. Was the first time in 3 years. Wife's first time in 30 years.

Trying to fly tomorrow i suspect will be hell.

The impetus(?) to write is tied in with very negative things unfortunately. My entire childhood is solely negative. And one just can't go to that day after day. It doesn't work. People with bad memories more likely to have depression. How can I spin it? How can it be something that I can still, in some way, remember? To just forget it all, to entirely forget one's childhood... then what do you have? But it was entirely miserable. At least today it seems that way. Which maybe is strange, not quite right. Mostly it wasn't so great but it wasn't quite that bad... was it? I don't know.

The true impetus to write comes entirely from negative things. Possibly you could say there was the overcoming of those negatives and therefore it's positive, but it doesn't feel that way somehow.....

Everything is negative today. Was watching a lot of boxing recently. It's the most true sport (not counting UFC I guess) but while wanting to throw up it's horrible to think about. Lyle versus Foreman, etc, etc. It's all just horrible. Lamon Brewster blind in one eye. Herbie Hide....

It's just the failing as a writer. It's bothering me so much. Otherwise life is OK. Saw a thing about "grit", was thinking "grit" isn't necessarily a good thing. Failing for decades can eventually wear you down.

So trying to keep it character based but with so doing I feel like I have no creativity. Also strangely I find myself afraid to listen to industrial music lately. Which is sort of strange... I associate it with such an unhappy time in my life and well, it is indeed sort of really unhappy music. I find myself afraid to listen to it. It ties into my creativity so much. Without I got fucking nothing. But I listen to it and I'm taken back to those years where I constantly debated whether or not I should kill myself. Everyday was such a struggle to survive. It was awful. Obviously I don't want to be reminded, right? Why would I?

But the fuck does one do with such a life. Years and years spent so close to dying. What does one do with such memories? Years and years that were completely devoid of any happiness. What does one do when that was one's formative years?

...genetics. Our environment plays only a minor role in who we are.... But they say when put through hell this may go out the window. Eh.

Some people are just resilient. Others are just whiny bitches always thinking up how such and such is negative. Taking offense and so on.

What am I? I'm sick and miserable at the moment.

This is inconsiderate. Not thinking well.

For characters I considered using some people I knew in the military. There were some relatively lively characters from that time. Intelligent underachievers. Unfortunately that was such a bad time for me. That is when I almost died. I can't see anyway I can really go there. But if not there, where? I feel the same always, essentially. It's in one youth that matters. That's when you are shaped (to the extent environment shapes you). But you have to write based on your experiences to some extent surely... You can't just pull shit out of some kind of vacuum...???

I can't stand what I've written here. Doubt it does my any good. I won't want to ever reread it. I file it under the same category as all that crap from my youth.

Cello practice
1. Vibrato in time with fast beat
2. Scales with beat as fast as possible, focus in particular on second position, extended position, etc.
3. dotzauer book with and without fast beat
4. some time spent without a beat just enjoying playing
5. various pieces with beat as can manage

Viola practice
vibrato exercises with beat, especially c string
then if I have anything left to continue to hold proper position, a bit of time just playing whatever

3 5/4's plus a 4 minutes at 9 mph(6.6min/mile) on 2% incline. Definitely could have done another minute... The pain is different for 5's. More relevant. Simply withstanding the pain is the limiting factor. And worrying I'll get so sloppy I'll fall off the treadmill. Really think these long intervals (with long rests) is what will finally get me setting some PB's. Have found I can do them every other day (all out) without wearing out. One minute intervals and less caused my knee to start bothering me. 2, 3, 4 don't hit certain parts of the body well enough. Not aerobic enough. Too long will wear the body out. Maybe I could do longer than 5 though... But 5 is really really hard and certainly feels like it's working. Haven't tried a time trial yet though.

Almost finished with Words of Radiance. Really liking it. Negatives are I guess slightly soap operaish and sometimes the dialogue gets kind of stupid. But has a lot that is good. Lots of ethics. Think I noticed a plot hole once or twice, but as long and as convoluted as it is, I don't mind.

Once finished I will try yet again to write. But must start with characters. That comes first. Not whatever the hell it is that haunts me.

Hobb named the royalty "Chivalry", "Verity", "Shrewd", "Regal", and the characters could be best described exactly with their names. Think I'll try that. "Duty" and so on.

Again I wrote zero words. But I'm spending a lot more time playing cello/viola. And the beginning part of the week I was so dammed stressed, the idea of trying to write just seemed ridiculous. Finally thought of worrying about others instead of myself and the stress just disappeared. Maybe because I don't really have anyone else to worry about? Well what the hell it works. Wonder if it still will if I ever have someone else who really needs my worrying.

Reading Words of Radiance which is a really good book. Stormlight Archive seems so much better than his other works. Book one was one of the best I've read...

Did a 3.5 reps of a 4/4 at 6.5 min/miles on 2% incline. Shorter harder interval workouts leave me feeling better than longer slower ones.

My back definitely feels better when I really limit refined sugars. If I start eating something with refined sugar everyday. Like a piece of pie. My back starts bothering me more. I think.

Had a dream that I lost my job. I went and confronted my boss to ask why. She said they just hadn't made enough money. But then she made a pass at me. I didn't really reciprocate. Then she kind of acted like she was going to cry. Then she turned into a cat and hissed at me and waved her claws.

I do appreciate that in real life I virtually never see/interact with her, I guess. Don't think very highly of her. I assume she's just a bit stoopid, doing the best she can, but feels a bit intimidated?? Feel like she plays at being sophisticated or something. Comes across very weird and fake. And she has no clue what I do I think. Ultimately my job has been fine so whatever.

Bit stressy because I have some deadlines falling behind on. But they are the stuff I do only when everything else is finished. They aren't hard deadlines and I have a ton of other things. But if next week is very busy I may have to work on a lit review and abstract, etc at home I guess.

Three published papers so far and I guess there's the possibility of two more. For someone who only has a two year degree in the profession I work in and gets absolutely nothing out of publishing papers it's a bit strange.

I wrote zero words this week. My desire to write is just all messed up. It isn't based on a story I have in my head or even characters I have in my head... My strong desire to write is motivated by vague feelings and flashes of images. I attempt to write stories in which I can put these images and vague feelings. And it's not working.

So I want to accomplish B because of this A that I want to share with others and also expand for myself. But A just doesn't lead even remotely to accomplishing B and I've failed for so long at B that I'm kind of willing to forget all about A and do whatever it takes to just accomplish B now.

But A was the whole reason to bother in the first place. And the possibility of forgetting about A while still continuing to try to write, simply because I don't like to give up at things... is both humorous to me and also something I should try to avoid I guess. I'm thinking I need to learn to daydream about things with maybe little to no relation to A but then ultimately still have A in there. Possibly this A will end up being just a meaningless thing thrown in. Hopefully not.

My earlier years were a very intense struggle to survive. I invented (somewhat subconsciously) a malevolent god that wanted me dead that I continued to survive simply to spite. That's the best reason I could come up with to continue living. And in such a state I went for 15 to 20 or so years.

There are feelings/images from that time I don't want to lose. It's all terribly, pitifully vague. Writing is possibly really not the best medium. Painting would make more sense I guess. Except when it's other artists I far prefer books to paintings. But no painter has really come even close to what I guess I would want to paint. And certainly no writer has either. So what I like from others has maybe little relevance.

But I just don't care for painting. So much work and it gets a uncomprehending glance if that. So, onward.