Summer/Fall

We had the hottest summer on record, this year in Texas. Between that and depression, I haven't seen much sunlight relatively these past few months. I needed to recoup. Regroup. Spring saw new growth, with producing the documentary, the alleged dawn of a new era in my career. Summer I lost my cushy job at the arts org, broke up with my lover, and split from the house I only in retrospect realized was my first real attempt at making a home. Shit got real, quick. Higher aspirations get even less human resources-- energy, attention, etc -- when the basics aren't secure. Be grateful for family. As independent as we strive to be, man knows survival rates are higher as a social creature. Much respect for the plight of the immigrant, who is without an accessible network as soon as they hit a new shore. Who's couch would they sleep on during transition? Oh, it was real for a minute. I had never been so lacking in motivation. I knew what had to be done to get back on my feet, so I went through the motions mechanically, like trying to stand when both your legs are numb. Life is constantly about feeding and sheltering, so finding a new source of those didn't bother me. It was the feeling of being trapped on the base that weighed heavy. Trying to get ahead, it's sometimes called, seemed dumb. The temptation was to abandon all lofty goals, and to just work a menial job & die. Maybe go to the movies a few times in between. I was wrestling with the idea of being as educated as I ever would be, as travelled, of being finished with newness completely. I imagined my scattered works being collected & presented as evidence of this so-called writing, and scoffed. Pathetic. Then I got caught up trying to save Troy Davis' life. I ranted like a madman, until thankfully the cause went viral. So many different people joined in to support that we actually thought we could halt an execution with will alone. People were talking about the broken criminal justice system as if it were an approachable problem, it was surreal. Then he was killed. I woke up darker the next day, the last day of summer. I had aged overnight. The first day of fall, I picked up a pen. I've always written out of necessity. Seasons change. That's where I am with this thing.