A Look Back To September 2002

Due to some grim personal problems, I haven’t felt much like writing this month. Creativity does not arise when you’re feeling down. But if anything good comes out of the pain, it’s that you’re forced into introspection. You’re forced to looking honestly at your life, and even though you might not like what you see, the truth will eventually help.

And part of the process is analyzing your history. And for me it’s apt to take a look back five years ago, the last time I found myself single. Reading through my journal from that period might not provide any answers, but it may give me a modicum of perspective. So here is what I was thinking and writing in September of 2002.


September 1, 2002
9:04 p.m.

So here it is, Labor Day Weekend, and I find myself hunkered down on Descanso Drive in front of the air-conditioner during an uncharacteristic humid evening. I’ve spent this whole day editing my manuscript, and I’ve made good progress. A Model Community is almost ready to send out to the world.

So why do I feel, as Kristofferson sings, nearly faded as my jeans? Sure the heat has whittled away my energy, but the weariness isn’t all physical.

I had tried to get people to go to The Red Lion tonight, but I didn’t follow through and have no idea whether anybody will show. Should I make a trip to Glendale Boulevard? I thought being around friends inside one of my favorite bars would help, but I’m feeling rather lousy and alcohol has no appeal.

I need a trip far away from Los Angeles, California.

Key West would be great. My buddy Dave emailed me and wanted tips on the island. He’s going there with his wife, and when we were roommates (6 years ago . . . how could that be 6 years ago??), I had told many stories of my Key West days. So just typing Pier House and Mallory Square and Fort Taylor and Captain Tony’s in my email back to him made me sigh. I want out of this damned city. I feel like a rat dumbly zigzagging around a maze……………….


September 9, 2002
10:30 p.m.
Monday Night

Okay, things are pretty f’n good right now. Of course it can all crash to shit in a nanosecond, but The Patriots began their Super Bowl defense tonight with a 30-14 smack down on The Steelers, things are going well with my (hopefully) new semi-girlfriend, and I finished the near final draft on A Model Community. Sure, if I analyzed my life enough I could probably find things to depress the shit out of myself. But I have no interest in such an activity, and I’m just going to enjoy September 9th in the good year of our lord 2002.

Because, as everybody knows, in less than two days it’s going to be that anniversary. It won’t be a day to smile. It won’t be a day to rejoice. But it will be a day to shed a tear for the victims, to celebrate survival, and to be thankful of your life.

Well…there’s no sense going on about my successes or problems after even mentioning September 11, 2001. The pictures of my trip to the World Trade Center in 1996 are still tacked up to the wall, and in the middle are the three firemen raising the American Flag at Ground Zero. Six and a half years ago I was standing on top of Manhattan, my head above the skyscrapers, horizon, and clouds. Nobody will ever be at that spot ever again. It’s an eerie and awful fact…………………………


SEPTEMBER 11, 2002
11:04 p.m.

Last year I couldn’t articulate my sorrow and there’s no reason why I could do it now.

Nobody knows why one person is allowed to live while another cannot be saved from death. All day at work I couldn’t help but ponder that unanswerable question. And as such thoughts pinball around your brain, you cannot believe you’re still spending hour upon hour at a job you don’t enjoy. Sure, you’re breathing now….but there’s no promises you will be tomorrow. And what do you have to show for it?

I’ve dedicated myself to succeeding in my career, and even though I’ve consistently failed, I can take some sense of pride in the effort. But I’m still earning money by doing something I see as pointless. I’m still not only far away from my family and friends, I’m living in a city that rates extremely low in my opinion. And it could all end tomorrow.

You can’t consciously think doom and gloom or you’ll go crazy. But the fragility of existence is something that should be acknowledged on some level. You have to have priorities. And waiting around for “fate” to help me is not one of them.

Publishing my novel is a good start. As Palahniuk said in Fight Club, “This is your life, and it’s ending one minute at a time”. You should at least try to do something worthwhile with your days and years. I wasn’t even a teenager when I began writing short stories. It’s the only thing I’ve truly wanted to do. Okay…I can’t make any money writing, but I can get my novel available to whoever wants to read it.

So what does it mean?

I still might leave L.A. before the end of the year. But I’m not going to ponder any future stuff until after A Model Community gets to Xlibris Publishing. Whenever I get overwhelmed and depressed, it’s usually because I’m looking to far down the road………………...

September 30, 2002
11:52 p.m.
Monday

Here it is the waning minutes of the month, and I find myself back at my little brown desk with cold air sneaking through the windowpanes. It can’t be more than fifty degrees outside. Cold for L.A., but still fine weather. After such a hot summer I’ve enjoyed this overcast weather.

Still haven’t heard about my car. Since I blew that tire and damaged my steering column I’ve been mobility challenged for more than a week. My mechanic is back (very honest and friendly) and should give me an estimate tomorrow. I await with both fear and anticipation. The subway is a decent alternative to driving, but I could do without the 25 minute walk. In Boston I was never more than a hundred yards from a T stop.

You could also phrase that as a touchdown away. Which is what the Patriots were from winning their 13th straight game. Unfortunately The Chargers stopped them…and I experienced that lousy feeling for the first time in 300 plus days. It was an amazing run, and there is no shame in their defeat. But why did I have to see it in person? I hadn’t see The Patriots live since they clinched a wild card spot in 1999 against San Francisco…and I make the trip down to San Diego where the incredible streak ends.

Bummer, man.

Yes, and even worse to witness it in hostile territory. Which got me thinking along the same lines as I did in June at Dodger Stadium…that I’m so sick of being the away team. I want Fenway Park and Foxboro and The New Garden. I want to be among scores of friends…to be apart of the community I loved so much. Be it sports or just your average day-to-day stuff. I am through with Los Angeles.

Some good news before I close…the editors have A Model Community, and when I get back from my trip back to Boston to see family and friends it should be ready. And during that time I’ll keep myself busy with writing the back cover summary and my biography and the description I want posted on Amazon and Barnes & Noble.com. There’s also the new script- which might turn out to be the framework for my second novel.

Which brings us to…

My search for a college teaching job. I don’t even know if I’m qualified, but with a M.A. and a literary novel I should have a chance. I’ve said it so many times during my four year misadventures in Hollywood, but this time I truly mean it. What's kept me going, even during my darkest hours, was the belief I would sell a script. The belief has faltered into a desperate hope, and desperation is no way to go about life.

I might be happy at a little college in New England. Not much money, but minimal expenses and plenty of time to read and write. Find a nice girl, settle down, have some kids, and all that usual stuff. I never much gave any thought to all that usual stuff, but I never gave much thought to getting old.

Weird…that’s the only way to describe how I feel, right here in now, as I move a few more feet into my 30’s. I’ve held onto not growing up for a long time, and it was a noble effort. But it’s over. I can still enjoy going to bars and staying up late and sleeping with different women, but I want more. I was pretty contented to just focus on writing and then to goof off in my spare time. But it’s not enough. I’m not saying I want to get married or start a family…shit, I don’t even know what I really want…but I’m sure of what I don’t want- the routine I’ve carved out for myself.

I’m whining and babbling like a 2 year-old now, and we’ll end it here before I reach October. You have to be thankful of the good things you have, and try your best to change the bad things that sting the soul.