So you may have noticed a lack of posts around here the last few days. There are a few reasons for this, but the main one is that I haven’t had anything to say. I know that doesn’t usually stop me, but this lack of anything to say has rendered my words humorless, pointless, and useless.
That’s the main reason—nothing to say and no way to make it funny.
The second reason is because I was hoping someone else would step up to the plate and write something. Look, I know that The Strangelands is pretty much my bed to sleep in—usually alone—but that doesn’t mean it isn’t nice to share it once in a while. Other times, it’s just nice to sleep somewhere else. Or not at all.
It doesn’t happen often, but there are times that someone will get bored waiting around for me to write something and take matters into their own hands. I was kind of expecting it, but I don’t know why.
Summer’s a weird time for readership, and this one has been exceptionally strange. Our readership has pretty much tripled, but most of our regular commenters are doing things like going on vacation or having babies. Yet another reason I detest children—they steal my thunder. Karen’s probably off somewhere drinking alone. I’m pretty sure Lauren either picked up a boatload of sailors or is in jail somewhere for killing someone in a barfight. Diane…shit, I don’t know. I might be mistaken, but I think a couple of her kids had birthdays this month (Happy birthday, kids! Thanks for stealing my audience!). Trey and Carrie are wasting their lives with procreation. Dave Riley’s somewhere on the dark side of the moon, and Jesse…well, Jesse just goes away sometimes. Who else? Leslie—went on vacation, and has been fooling around with raising her family and sorting through vacation photos ever since. Rik is just as worthless as a worthless bastard can be. Half the time, her computer doesn’t work, and when it does, she’s looking at Harry Potter porn.
And I think that might be all of our regulars.
Back on topic: Why I haven’t been writing.
The truth is, I have been writing, but most of it sucks, and writing shitty depresses me like a fat kid out of candy. Aside from shit, I’ve been working on a couple of stories, and they’ll either end up being novels or novellas, which means they’ll either never get finished or never get properly edited—basically, it means they’ll more than likely never see the light of day.
Also, I’ve staggered back out into the job market. This would please me much more if it was something in my desired field, but you take what you can get, and what I can get is probably not going to be terribly wonderful. I know that’s probably not the right attitude to have when whoring yourself out to corporate America, but I don’t really care at the moment.
I find myself not caring about a lot of stuff lately, and it concerns me. Not because I’m a caring person, but because I’m an angry, caustic, belligerent person. I almost got crashed into today. Driving down the highway, right beside this prick in a BMW, and he came into my lane. I honked and braked and swerved, and he lowered his phone enough to turn on his blinker as he continued over into my lane. I should have been furious, or at least a little frightened. Instead, I called him a few dull names and went on my way.
So that’s about it—why I haven’t been posting anything. Hopefully something will change, or hopefully I’ll change, and I’ll be writing like a maniac once again.
Holding my breath seems like a bad idea at this point, though.