Typo Life

I need to escape one thing in this life: My fear. I will be another year older in four days; I carry too many things on my shoulders. Perhaps you do, as well. The biggest thing most of us carry is fear. It's in a large, dark sack we sling over our shoulders as we move from day to day. It rattles in there like cheap cook pans. Sometimes the rattling sounds like laughter; our fear mocking us.

Every blog should have an SEO friendly title, fuck that. I have spent decades cowed into a corner by this monster known as marketing. The truth is this is an awful time to try and sell books but I write books so I will either slay the monster or figure out a way to slip past it.

The Bad Kids will be out in the near future. I do not have a date, "the near future" is the best I can do. I am formatting it right now. I still find typos and fret over them: How are there still typos? I have literally--literally not figuratively---read every line aloud. I fret over them for a moment but this is the typo life. We live in a typo world, a world of flaws, some beautiful. The Bad Kids is the perfect title for a time in my life when I was even more imperfect than I am now. I have always been excessively creative. When I was in my late teens I began to channel it into writing and music. When I was in middle school I channeled it into committing acts of vandalism with my friends. I was highly creative and deeply wounded by my family falling apart as most of us are deeply wounded by something. Now, I take whatever pain I feel and write stories or music. Then? I channeled it into acts of destruction. That is the story of The Bad Kids.

I have a good job that I am grateful for but I balance that gratitude with the understanding that each morning I wake up, I am one day closer to my death. If I am lucky, I have twenty years left. There are so many places on the map I have not seen, so many creative projects to bring to life before mine is extinguished. I am in a rut and I allowed my fear to corner me here. Fear is, incredibly, an even more insidious monster than marketing. More clever. It gets my head. Maybe you understand because it gets in your head, as well. Do I really want to piss the rest of my life away in a job?

What is the alternative? You have a good job, the job market is terrible. Where will the money to live and travel come from?

Fear, always whispering in my ear. Singing. Fear, like death, has a melodic voice that lulls you into a state of obedience. Did you ever notice the word "die" in the middle of obedience? That's what your spirit does when you give into fear.

I have three hours and forty-five minutes until I have to leave for work. In that time I will format The Bad Kids and practice music. Then I have two days off, and the cycle begins again. The cycle of me giving into my fear.

For now...