Dark place...

I'm in a mood of shadows and self-loathing, right now, and cannot seem to break it. All I see around me is my failures after so many decades on this planet. This attitude is not based on intelligent thinking or honest emotion, I know that, but I'm still a mess.

The only smart thing I've been able to do is keep myself from writing on HNH. Staying the hell away, because I know I'll trash what I've done, so far, and beat myself up over it.

I almost broke through when I began writing a story, freehand. About a man who's joined forces with a stranded alien to help it get back home. The MC is named Warren Randall, and he was shot and killed by a sheriff's deputy. It brought him back to life and gave him extra powers and strength, but in exchange he has to bring it people to feed its damaged ship so it can use their life energy to send out distress signals to others of its species.

It's a reworking of We-come, a little Sci-Fi/horror script I wrote years ago, that was told from the viewpoint of some potential victims. Dunno why I started it going this way. And of course it's already falling apart on me, thanks to my mood. Just another reason I should do no writing, right ow.

I can think of some semi-causes I'm like this. Stupid reasons.

1. I'm not going to Hong Kong for the book fair, there. It used to be a free-port, but not any more. Coming from the US, my social media would probably be checked and I might be refused entry for my comments about Xi and his assistance to Russia in its invasion of Ukraine. Not to mention how he's been about Taiwan, which I consider a separate sovereign nation while China doesn't.

2. I'm not doing Seattle's Book Fair at the end of October. It's not cost effective for me to go.

3. I'm doing a job in DC, but it's getting complicated and I'm looking less and less forward to it.

4. There's another possible job outside San Francisco that's making me nervous...yet both of these packing jobs seem straightforward. Easy compared to others I've done. So WTF?

5. And a job in Boston became ridiculously expensive so that's not happening, now. And I'm not sorry.

What's funny is, I wasn't really up for the book fair trips, either. It's 15 hours to Hong Kong from Toronto, and I just don't want to be in a plane for that long. And Seattle usually meant returning on a redeye back to Buffalo, which I've grown to hate. So I don't know what the big deal is, with me. I'm just...I'm in one of my leave me the fuck alone moods, and those can come out of nowhere. Maybe I am psychotic.

Or into dementia. Wouldn't that be perfect?

Whine over and out.