2. Sometime in the Night

I'm probably overstimulated. It's 12:30 am, well after my recommended bedtime. I can't sleep at all. Sometimes I blame the heat or the caffeine but my mind is abuzz for different reasons. I have not posted in months even though there has been so much to say. Why now? Why this day, this hour, on my phone in the night with such urgent that I couldn't get my tablet out and type this on a full sized device?

On that note I apologize for whatever typos I leave in here, I will be correcting thrm only as I deem necessary. My blog, my rules.

Tonight we watxhed Half-Past Eight PM. This would be the video version I did when I was 18 - the second of three iterations. Today I look at it as something of a dancing bear. It is deeply flawed*, maybe in some ways that are only obvious to me, but the miracle is that I got it done at all. I thought I would reflect on this o my other blog, which I had meant to become a version of personal thst is acceptable for public consumption but nah not yet.

*Autocorrect picks the worst battles; won't correct most of my errors but turned flawed into flawless. How clueless can you get.

So I'm so stimulated I can't stop thinking and thinking. I think about "back then," and the times since, and the changes I would make if I were to do Half-Past again, and the follow-up that never got off the ground and all the years I have spent not writing anything original. Because the truth is I'm spent and I am not sure I truly believe in myself as a writer. Not in the way I did then.

I don't think the world any longer wants thevwriter I thought I was going to be - a hopefully exceptional version of a sensitive-yet-bitter, cliche male woth gender politics that are half progressive and half caveman. Being aware thst thr person I would naturally be is not so fashionable amongst people I wish to please, I no longer have that font of inspiration. I still have Ideas and they are okay, although I was never great at ideas, more at organizing and struxturing, I think. I had one odea ever - put some people onstage/on camera/in a book and let them talk through some shit.

This all is more negative than I thought it would be, I really didn't think I would attack myself so hard.

My point is that to be the person I currently wish to be in society means not reslly doing what comes naturally, because the shit that comes naturally is very out of date and I already did my best version of it. Hence why END OF THE NIGHT nevervended up being what I wanted despite great potential.

And I have a hard time converting my current state into inspiration.

But you know, I do write. And I'm not talkimg about simmarizing old X-Men comics. I do have shit on the go, which I steal moments for at odd times in the day and night - and now could have been one of those times except my brain and heart are so heavy with frustration and self loathing. What a drag.

Sorry, this was nothing. I broke months of silence to cry about my brain going haywire because I can't writr likecI didcwhen I was 18. It's probs best if I go silent again. I'll find a way forward and maybe theb I'll be back.

Keep on rockin
Scotto