Bargain Basement of the Soul

So, I need to get back out there -need to hold some sort of conversation. Maybe I spent too long hiding out. It's not that it was without good reason but where I've been hasn't been fun.

Where do I start on this one?

Okay days at work but they're getting more stressful. The ten minutes added either way don't help. I have what I call the “coveted window office” which is interesting because now my body is getting used to sunlight again. Moral or lesson we've learned thus far: my body's not a big fan of not having sun. Or, I'm nicer to deal with as long as I'm not working in a dungeon.

Through one way or another I once again got to the Bargain Basement of My Soul (DVDs now for the low, low price of...) I came across a travel blog ran by a guy named Nomadic Matt and so much stuff in my life made sense. My thoughts on things, how I view life, my lack of interest in political nature, etc. I realized I missed things about ME -what others liked about me, what others found cool in me, why I even had friends. I've barreled-out my life with nothing happy to show for it. This job I have has poisoned me and it's this routine I've been in of trying to be comfortable through the poison has to stop. The only person who can make that happen is me and I still feel fractured like a plexi-glass windshield after a high-speed collision. I'm fuckin' tryin' though.

“Vivid.” That was the word used by the woman running the coffeeshop not far from the job's new locale. The woman running it is pretty cool. I mention to her that I do crime fiction, hardboiled fare, and that word -vivid- doesn't always factor into the lexicon or vernacular. It's like someone saying “soothing”; ya just don't hear it all that often. Does that make me less sophisticated? Less articulate? Less anything, period? I dunno. I always considered how I write, how I speak, a melding of high and low speech. Kinda like an episode of “Deadwood” without the Shakespearian-ness of it.

Good idea: needing to unplug. Another good idea: finding happiness in being alone. Bad idea: avoiding everyone and everything to do it. Worse idea: doing both at the same time. So, this little social experiment didn't work out so well. I got burnt out on Facebook and on the people around me and figured what the hell? I don't need anyone right now. Fair-weather friends don't care but those who do I kinda pushed away a little, too. Some cited me on the fact that I shouldn't have been doing it when I needed friends the most and they are probably right.

As I mentioned earlier I've been doing a lot of thinking about what I can do, what I'm good at, what makes me happy, etc. I toyed around with the idea of travel blogging/writing a while back (like I looked into freelance writing) and am setting my sights on that. Some may be disappointed, some already think that it's cool, but ultimately it's just air until I can make it happen. It's not that I can't or won't do it; I just have to make it happen. So this weekend I am going to unveil another blog (apparently three isn't enough) and calling it Neverending Highway. I'll blog my trips, pics, etc. on it and use it as my platform for getting additional work and letting people see my trips. Will keep you posted. I also have a plan for an “overall” project that sounds pretty cool...

Went tonight to see “North by Northwest” and it was packed. I talked with a few people and while I was alone I enjoyed it immensely. Check out the uLocal blog on that one.

More when I get the time,
-Chas

Brain Sex

God, I needed that badly. Thank you Mr. Nolan for providing a movie where it was okay to be intelligent again.

I started this blog in the hopes that I would chronicle me changing my life. Part of that change is finding out about who I really am; lying myself on an operating table and slowly extracting the nuts and bolts and cogs of my makeup.

It's not easy.

I found the bargain basement soon enough. There's not a lot there except DVDs I can't get rid of and a door. I happened to find it before when I was working on “The Big Adios” and was expunging memories for the sake of a character and I took a trip to the darkside. I'm not in a hurry to go back there.

Among the things that I found down there were this: I am self-absorbed, and I am depressed because I have no mental stimulation. Let me deal with the latter because the former could be it's own blog as well.

I have a depressing job: I currently answer phones for a service providing information on offenders. That's all I can say within the confines of the fear of losing my job. I've often said that what gives you life also kills you, and this is no exception. I've absorbed so much bad stuff from this job that the rest of the world is gray. Yes, I've gotten a few good ideas but at what price?

Sanity. Friendship. Happiness. The things people seem to put so much value on. I had been thinking that maybe it was me. Maybe since I was pursuing the writing thing that as I began closing the world off from access to myself that it was what I enjoyed (writing) that began upsetting people. Well, that could partly be to blame but what about being unhappy most of the time?

In the past few weeks I developed paranoia. I seriously do not know or remember how that happened. It gradually got to the point where I didn't want to talk to anyone outside of my circle, I didn't want to go out; I found myself literally afraid to talk with anyone else. In a bad mood I went and saw “Inception” today and for two-and-a-half hours I found my escape.

I got mindfucked. And, I realized what was going on.

I have no clue if anyone was picking up on me going crazy or being paranoid but if they were no one told me nothin'. Maybe “go see a counselor” (no money for that) but that was about it. No one asked me why I was feeling what I felt. I honestly had no clue about any of it.

After I walked out of the movie I realized my problem: I have no one to talk to on the same level as me, or even close. I can talk with others and even see where their thoughts seem to “cap” but for me I have problems feeling normal. Feeling like I actually belong. Hell, when I began working for Mojo I felt like “the nerd in the room” and nothing changed that feeling.

Again and again and again I find myself at that place where I'm afraid to change not because of changing but because of my creature comforts. I have bills to pay and my mouth to feed which isn't working so well on the whole hand-to-mouth plan. I live in a shitty apartment complex. I have no one to talk to. My job is depressing. I don't even know where to start fixing these problems.

But there is a bit of relaxation in brain sex. My wound-up nature has regressed for today and for once I'm alright. I'm okay. It's good to know that there's someone else intelligent on Planet Earth and that I could enjoy a movie without having to figure out what went wrong with it. Maybe I'll have to either go see the movie again or put on “The Prestige” or “Memento” to get brain laid again.

Thanks again, Mr. Nolan.

Oh, to Blog

Here is my tale of how I got into blogging:

“What do they call bloggers now?” One of the co-workers at my job that pays.
“Bloggers. They used to be called 'writers.'” Me.

Imagine the Californian desert. 2004. Feel free to have that picture in your mind like in the movies where you see vast rocks, dirt, and weeds for miles while the time and place description rolls across the bottom left-hand corner of the screen in block letters, usually with some “computer” or “typing” sound as the letters appear one-by-one.

At that point in time I was working for a company that specialized in selling and making obsolete parts for custom and classic cars from 1910-1985. My boss's boss was a guy named Ernie who had a dark sense of humor. One day he asked me, “So, what do you know about this 'blogging' thing?”
“Not too much. A weblog.”
“Do you blog?”
“No. My life isn't that interesting.”

He smiled and walked off, and I didn't think anything of it. Really, I didn't find my life all that fascinating. I was working for a car parts company, I lived in a town by the beach, I was the co-chair of a writer's group, I hung out at coffeeshops... no thrill-a-minute action/adventure story here.

May 2005 and it was “wagons east” time – I was out of money and my marbles. At the very least I needed a break but didn't have the collateral to afford to stay. And the blogging thing? I had a MySpace page (before FOX bought it) and I uploaded parts of a story that contained a character called Jack Callister, a mid-40s detective living in Louisville. I would be driving back across the good ole U. S. of A once again and my Cali friends suggested that I “blog” my trip back.

And so I did. From Long Beach to Calico Ghost town, then to Las Vegas and spending the night in Mesquite, I started writing about traveling: the person who spent part one with me, the people I met, the conversations about places, etc. I had journaled by trip to get to California but this was the first time I actively wrote during the trip and had people read what I was writing about. There's a certain thrill that comes with that: to live life and talk about each day and putting it out to others to read and experience along with me. A friend would later tell me that she enjoyed living vicariously through me.

From 2005-2007 my main blog was on MySpace and it contained nearly everything: traveling, my thoughts on my life, etc. It bordered addiction and self-help, but my friends were at least “clued in” on what was going on in my life. I tried not to whine as much because that's what it seemed the blogging culture had became: let me whine and spout off about something.

2007 I joined Gather and soon after a few other sites deciding to write in a different direction: movie reviews. Yes, any random Net idiot can blast a movie but I had a degree in film and most of my friends trusted my thoughts and decisions on movies. I still talked about my life and travel, but I gained a small following with my reviews.

2009 came and the saying, “Slow and sure wins the race,” comes to mind: I was asked by a local website (LouisvilleMojo.com) to write exclusively for them since I had been uploading my reviews (to grow an online audience) with them since 2007. I met with Chris Hall and Chuck who shook my hand and said, “Thank you. You make us look good.” It was surreal and cool at the same time.

Since then blogging has became an adventure onto itself. Through it I was able to blog live from the Louisville International Festival of Film, interview local filmmakers, get into movies for free, and observe an ever-changing technological culture. In regards to me blogging my personal movie blog peaked at 40,000 hits in a month as well as having been listed on Total Film.com's “600 Movie Blogs You May Have Missed.” I've been in the Top 1000 blogs on Associated Content. And I've been listed at least twice as a “Cool Person to Know” on Gather.com. Not too shabby.

There you have it: me and my blogging experience. As for writing I'm in the process of editing my short stories for publication, I have two screenplays registered, and I'm currently running an online blog story of a hardboiled crime nature called “The Big Adios,” written in a 30s-juxtaposed-with-now style.

Feel free to check out my movie blog archive at: chasness.wordpress.com
And if you're into crime fiction, “The Big Adios” at: aidencobb.blogspot.com

Thanks for reading and sorry if anything was misconstrued. Feel free to drop a line.
-Chas

Just Blah

I wish I had something better to begin with. I wish everything didn’t feel so… dead. As the old saying goes, “if wishes were horses…”

So my self-imposed exile to Sabbatical-land is done and it looks like there’s nothing left. Like I got swallowed and spat out into the desert with one of those old, thin suitcases from the days when you only spent a few days at wherever you were going because you’d be home soon. I hold one of those, a light blue not much wider than my fist, and stare across the dry desert heat of… nowhere. I don’t even know where the hell I’m at. Guess I gotta start walkin’…

It’s difficult to get back into writing. Not that I’ve lost any certain sense or touch to it; just the want to do it. It’s like “Why go through the trouble?” My burnout feels like it barreled me out.

And maybe it’s not just me. It’s been difficult for a lot of people to write. It’s summertime and the only time it feels like we can justifiably hang out with anyone else. Problem for me is not having a girlfriend/wife and not having kids everyone else goes on about their families and I’m sitting in the corner or standing and listening and trying to be happy about the possible futures of others while not cussing myself over the things I learned the hard way and the problems I’ve encountered that I couldn’t foresee. Or maybe I was blinded by pride. Or I believed in the brochure of life too much.

I don’t know why I’m in a funk.

After schedule “workings out” I had a date with a girl at Ramsi’s. Ramsi’s is a nice little restaurant with that “local flavor” to it being good food in a place that feels cobbled together by someone whose interior decorating skills are set between whimsical and rustic. Not trying to belittle the place –they have an indoor and outdoor eating area (she chose outdoor). She ordered a glass of wine and I had some tea; she had a salad and I opted for the coconut scallions with spinach alfredo sauce and a side of plantains. We talked about various things and it was nice.

Every time I go out with someone there’s a different reception. In those instances when I’m at ground zero (so to speak) what happens varies. One girl in California had the “just in case” cellphone call. One girl was interested in me but I wasn’t so much in her; after I didn’t travel with her down to Nashville to see the Nutcracker Suite that was all I heard. One girl I recently went out with I could read in her eyes the fact that I wasn’t for her. We went out to eat at a Greek restaurant (with “American flavor”) and I watched some people over the age of fifty go through country songs I have never heard before. Kudos for the woman who DID sing one I knew: “Somebody’s Knocking,” by Terri Gibbs.

I haven’t talked with her since then. Incidentally I got sick that week and wasn’t able to talk until the weekend and probably need to send her a message or something. Too hot for smoke signals or carrier pigeons. As I was saying earlier I finally have an evening out where I’m not at odds, I have no expectations (other than the other person showing up), and I have no plans. And it’s nice. Maybe it sounds a little depressing not expecting or asking of anything. Okay well good, intelligent, pleasant conversation.

And now I become a quandary because… I suck at dating. Having fun on a date? Yes. Being someone to talk with on a date? Check there, too. The subtleties, the hidden meanings, the body language, the quid-pro-quo of it all? Epic fail. Sometimes someone wonders why I don’t do something and then why I do do something and the answer is: I don’t have the rulebook. I seriously do NOT know. I would have a date and somehow along the way I sucked, did something wrong, or the person became uninterested in me and that’s that. I go back to whatever I’m working on (story, screenplay, or just plain trying to make ends meet) and there’s a solid two years of nothing. Nobody. I’m so used to being lonely that being around people is slowly becoming unnerving. God help me.

And I’m finding myself afraid. It was easier in the past because I could just say “They don’t like me because I’m next-to-worthless” and go about being depressed which works for a good, long time and no one will tell you anything good about yourself and you can’t find anything good about yourself. You are lonely not so much because it’s easier or better, but because it’s simpler. No people games, no setups for disappointment, no having to prove anything to anybody else.

And I can’t tell you how fucking hard, how fucking difficult, it is to KILL this part of myself. Part of me is afraid to lose this connection, this part of myself because everything else feels so illusory but hurt feels real. And the other part of me is afraid that I’ve finally connected with someone and I really like her and this moment, this place in time I’ll never have a chance to have again. That the rug will be pulled and I’m going to fall and crack my head against concrete flooring instead of wood and I’ll lay there and bleed.

Just lonely. Tired. Afraid. Happy. Sad. Alone.