My Whole Expanse I Cannot See…

So, this is just a quick post to say… If you need help with a WordPress theme (like I did), hire Alisa Ryan Herr, @isabisa on Twitter. She helped me embed Eager Naturalist into my blog so it’ll show up whether or not a reader has the font installed on their computer.

She’s spectacular.

So, for the first time, I seriously dug into this template’s CSS, and I think I did okay. I changed the blog’s font to the one I use for a lot of my tattoos, Eager Naturalist, then I adjusted its sizes to make things readable. I don’t think Eager Naturalist looks good if it’s too small. I also finally wiped all traces of Italian from our comments form. I think the blog feels more… hand-written now, like a paper journal. I use Eager Naturalist for my e-mail too. Oh, and I aligned my posts left, rather than justified.

Do we like the way this feels, or should I go with a more traditional look?

So, I heard one too many times that my blog’s new template looked very “Tumblr.” I don’t have my own domain name to have my crazy project, this evolving memoir of mine, looking like a Tumblr site. I mean, I know the blog isn’t anything good now, not for a decent while, really, but still… it’s mine, my project. I’ve put years into this place, it’s mine. It’s not nothing, it’s something. At least, to me it’s something.

I’ll try changing this template, the parts that don’t work. The Italian comments and what-not.

Tomorrow, I’ll post something not awful tomorrow. My head just isn’t here, not that it’s ever totally here, but it’s less than enough here to write anything that’s worth anything. Not that anything I write is worth much.

So, I tried writing, started writing, some flash fiction today, but it didn’t go anywhere. I just couldn’t, the words didn’t come bleeding out of me. I’m just not here, I’m so not here.

I don’t know what to write just now, I don’t think I have anything interesting in my head. Sometimes if I just start writing, something interesting spills out, but I don’t see that happening tonight. I’m not feeling very dynamic.

I went to the mall, picked up some shirts at Express, one blood-red that’s a little shiny. I’m a big fan of shiny shirts.

I don’t know, my head’s somewhere else.

So, I get these ideas, just weird, maybe a little eccentric, ideas. Like, a few years ago I decided to try to see every After Dark Horrorfest horror movie, in the theater. I made it to seven of the eight. Then, a few weeks ago, the gun range thing. I don’t know, I guess I like creating a to-do, then doing it. I do things especially when the rest of my life feels out of my control, I grab at something I can control, I get a thing or do a thing, just to show myself that part of me still alive. It’s, I don’t know. I suddenly don’t feel like writing more.

Anyways, we baked a cake today. Lauren (my assistant) and my friend, Dani, did the baking, while I took a more supervisory role. It was fun, and created something.

Now, pictures…

Lauren prepares a mellow vanilla icing

Introducing... batter!

Law & Order: Special Cakes Unit

It looks like Dani’s interrogating Lauren for some kind of cake-related felony…

Dani and Daisy and Lauren and Flour

Dani, Lauren, and the finished cake... rendered in water colors

Sure, I dabble in water color painting… or I just bought Sketcher on the Mac App Store. One or the other.

We did a yellow cake with vanilla icing, topped with fresh strawberries. It came out really pretty, which is everything one wants. We all just want something pretty.

I’m too screwed up, and nervous, and lost, and alone right now. I’m so lost, so alone. I can’t think straight or write straight, or DO ANYTHING. I knew it’s all my fault, I accept that, no other way to see it. I’m a worthless waste. I ruin everything.

I won’t be writing.

I’m scared because I, this could be some really pretty, sweeping narrative. I have the skill, I know my craft well enough to paint this picture of  scared and lonely, but fuck it. I don’t feel pretty inside, I don’t have any pretty words to bleed, even if I cut both wrists wide open. She won’t say, “I love you! Come back to me,” so I’m scared. The drugs will hit me, and I’ll get sleepy, and nothing will feel beautiful, and maybe I won’t find my way back.

So, this is post #667, nothing evil about that. I’ve been writing here since… mid-2007, so the stretches that I haven’t written show in the numbers. Still, 667 posts isn’t an awful number. I’ve tried to not post garbage, which is why sometimes I write nothing at all. I don’t know where this post is going, I don’t know where this blog is going, I don’t know where I’m going. I don’t know. Who knows?