I wanted to get this down before the day turned and the hours pressed on towards evening. I don’t have a plan for what happens tonight. I wanted to keep it open–loose. The key is to know you’ve done what needs doing. That means the school stuff, the writing, the words… The words were not peak today. Not close, even. There is a flaw with being back here; a laziness exploit I keep running. I don’t know if it is game-based, heat biased, or what. I don’t do well when I hit AZ. Especially in the summer.
Part of it is parental. If I’m here and I don’t have my boys I don’t feel like I’m doing my job. This isn’t fact so much as perception based. I’m trying to fight through one to the other in a world filled with half-truths, allegations, deepfakes, and, well, angry ass people who want more from you than they deserve and feel like they deserve everything you are and have. This is my reality.
More and more I feel like I’m in the wrong reality. It’s like that show/book, Dark Matter, where they slide (also.. Sliders) between ‘verses and things are either a little different or way off kilter. Mine is in between. Moreso since Trump, of course. It all feels like a universe slipping towards extinction and I am writing stories that don’t matter. I am doing things that don’t matter, often even to myself. I’m doing like everyone else does here: Passing time.
Phoenix made the top ten of most boring cities this year. Mesa, which is a suburb that, thanks to sprawl, doesn’t feel like a suburb, was ranked top ten in retirement… We got hit twice. I feel those shots every single day. It feels like I ought to be living elsewhere.
And better.