Rise of the Phoenix

It's been so long, but behold the rising of the Phoenix!



OK, so emerging from the basic malaise, slip-ups, depressions, wrong turns and general shittiness of real life has been slow, incredibly slow, but I am determined to push forward and start the writing thing again. During this long period where nothing I've written was published, people continued to ask me things like, "you write?", "have I ever heard of you?", "what are you doing in my apartment?", and "should I call the police?" Let me answer: yes, probably not, looking for stuff to steal, and yes, you should.

Why now? Because I can.



Settling back into the single life at this point in my life is actually pretty great. I know who I am and there is no one there who tells me what I can/cannot (should/should not) do. It's my life. No longer do I have to please someone else. There are no compromises. If I want to spend my Sunday writing and ignore the laundry: fucking great. If I want to read a book on craft instead of attending some BBQ I'm going to hate: bonus! Also, if I want to go to an all-you-can-eat buffet and do precisely that, the only person who is going to hate me is me. I already have a low opinion of myself, so why would I care?

So, where do I start? To tell you the truth, I've probably forgotten everything by now. I'm not even certain the sentences in this blog post are all grammatically correct. Probably not. That riff with the questions? I have no idea how to structure that sentence. Commas after quotes with punctuation marks inside? Does anyone know?

One thing I have done is bought a book on grammar as a refresher.

Cliff Notes even.

If it's good enough for David Foster Wallace, it's
 good enough for me. Just don't expect Infinite Jest 2.

I've also started writing again, which is a biggie. 600 words the other day.

I was never one for the "write everyday" garbage. Show me someone who sits at their computer and writes everyday, and I'll show you a guy who most likely spends that time searching for porn. If you run into someone who says they write everyday, check for calluses on their hands and shame in their eyes.

Who knew Quagmire was left handed?

So, here I go again. Wish me luck.