Message to the internet itself.

Grouping, regrouping. I feel like I am in the Phantom Toll Booth, putting things in one pile only to put them right back again...

I'm not clear on exactly what I need, which is probably why I'm not getting it... I need a magic wand to anticipate me.

Thirteen sections of manuscript. Silly, because I want short and tiny chapters, so I'm just going to chop it all up again. But thirteen pieces seem more manageable chunks to polish for now.

I will need a proper editor, but do I have money to pay an editor? No. And I'm not really sure how to find someone who works in a way that will make sense to me, who is familiar with young adult books, and that I can actually talk to and stuff. So, for now, what I think I need is regular people. But that hasn't been working out so well. Jodi read section/chapter one immediately, which was awesome of her. But there are a few people I have specifically asked for help, sent the first 5k almost one/two months ago, and never heard back from them about it... It' doesn't seem very hopeful that I will be able to get any useful feedback about an entire book if I can't even get people to read the first chunk, or give me any specific feedback. (No Ryan, you are not in trouble with me, I've only been pestering you for days, not months.)

So look Hal, or Syn, or whatever your name is, this is why I could really use you, the internet, to step up. I believe in prayer, but I also believe in math and ghosts in the machine and cookies placed by programmers that spy on everything and link unlikely things up, and probably read all my email and stuff. However, the last time I spoke to the internet, too many interesting things started happening at once, and I was like that search engine commercial making fun of people with information overload...

Allophones. Spin-weighted partial derivatives and spherical harmonics. Elfdalian alphabets and dental fricatives. Awesomeness and etc.

Feeling stuck. Want to take a step forward, but I've always been bad with directions. Please send help. A guide, a map, or a white rabbit will do. Thanks.


Dreams, relationships, and Scroobius Pip

I dreamed about small talk. That's how starved I am for human contact. I hate small talk. But I dreamed about boring women with brown hair. I pretended to care as they talked about kids and being soccer moms. Garret was in the dream, a shadowy figure that was not sitting near me.

In real life, I have not seen Garret since December. He went to take care of his Dad, who has cancer and had surgery. I get that. I wanted him to go see his Dad. But the distance is not helping our relationship, or more accurately, lack thereof. Garret won't come back for another couple of weeks, and then, he plans to stay for only three days and then go right back to his Dad.

The real life story-line carried over into the dream, obviously. Shadowy-Garret was not really there, even when he was there.

I wish I had friends.

I wish I knew how to be happy.

I wish I knew how to obtain what I want in life-- relationships with people who interest me, affection, the drive and motivation to accomplish my goals.


I listened to Scroobius Pip for the first time in Jan 2013. I love him. I'm obsessed with 5 songs and I listen to them over and over. (Introdiction, The Struggle, Thou Shalt Always Kill, The Beat That My Heart Skipped, and Broken Promise.) The lyrics are my new lexicon.

I wish I could find a person obsessed with the same things as I. But as I can't make a friend at all, that wish seems doomed to remain a fantasy.

My friends are all imaginary.

I have relationships with the peeled off layers of artists, writers, singers. Not real and complete people, but a single layer of a single version of a performance. A single contrived moment of a person. Sloughed bits of dead skin.

I wrote a few poems, published them on Amazon kindle. They are free if you have Amazon Prime...