Awesome!

The careless abandon of a young man requires a sense of adventure, and stinging reminders are a poor substitute for a road map. Stepping cautiously in the dark, the light in the far corner has grown too faint to guide me. I will not lie and say I chose this path before me, fate has done so. There's no fear because there's no unknown. Darkness, yeah always. But I know what lies ahead. Is my next step one of faith? Nope. It's strength. It's resolve. My next steps are cautious, yes, but they're sure. (Confusing?)

Tigger

In a sense, 2012 was the end of my world - my old world, and I'm not waiting for January to begin anew. I'm embracing 2013 as a long lost love and dragging that bitch by the hair...  Okay, a little overboard there. :)

The new year will be awesome.

Survival

We survived. Of course we did. There was no wandering planet X looking to bounce into us, no major solar activity reversed our magnetic poles, Yellowstone's mega-volcano behaved itself, California is still connected to Nevada, comets are still safely buzzing around the Kuiper belt, there were no planet-wide Earthquakes - and my personal favorite, the volcano didn't erupt at La Palma where it would've sent half the mountain into the sea resulting in a mega-tsunami that would've destroyed the east coast of North America! Nope. None of that happened. It turns out the Mayan timekeeper simply ran out of room on that stupid rock. I'm sure the doomsayers will probably pick another end-of-days date for us to babble on about, and we will. (NASA says there is a large as-of-yet undiscovered planet beyond the orbit of Neptune...)

So tell me, what's next? What are you doing for the rest of your life? Did you have a good year or did it suck? What could you do better? What are your plans for 2013? Are you a survivor? If so, how do you manage it?

Last year, I told you how bad 2011 was and how much better 2012 will be. (Bwahahaha) I didn't know it at the time, but 2012 sucked, and somehow I found the strength to survive and carry on. I still can't believe I'm still breathing. The knives in my back go deeper and the knife in my heart still twists, only now, there are more of them. And every year, the joy of Christmas (or whatever religion you follow and its corresponding celebration) that everyone around me seems to share in, escapes me. I've grown to hate the holidays, every one of them. Holidays are for happy people. Part of me would've loved to see that 1000 foot wall of water wipe out my city, but alas, it didn't. We survived.

It's not all gloom and doom. My writing is moving along. I've been doing a lot of short stories. You may have noticed my new policy is to remove them a week after posting. That's for my protection. As for my books, I'm not going to rush the publication process, I'm enjoying writing too much to dive into the self-promotional wheel of death. On the musical side, I've been composing a lot of new pieces. One filmmaker has shown interest; we'll see where that goes. One writer has inquired about music for her book trailer. I'm looking forward to that. (See link on right. And there's no fee, just credit.) I'm recording three CD's. Naturally, I'll spread the word when they're available so you can buy a dozen or so.

Wandering the country. This is Rt. 89 in Arizona.

Back to survival. If you're wondering, "nice-Charlie" is sick of being used and he moved on, or at least, in a coma. I'm beginning to realize how miserable I become at times.  I'm so sick of the phony crap slung by shitheads in my life with a constant self-serving agenda. Perhaps I'm simply drifting away from a state of ignorance where I believed people should be kind to each other, and towards reality, where most people suck. If I'm going to survive, I must continue to believe in the goodness that most of us have. I need to remember how wonderful strangers were during my impromptu drive around the country last year. Total strangers, sweet as pie.

The real point of this post, (my hundredth, by the way) is not to rant on about the holidays, depression, self-serving pricks, or back-stabbers that smile in your face. I waited until the end of the post to share with my friends the pain I'm in. (I figure my real friends are the only ones still reading at this point. Update: The overwhelming support I received was a real eye-opener, let me tell you.) At this point, my life is salvageable more than livable. I gave up the soulmate fantasy long ago. That's a joke. If she's out there, she certainly smart enough to stay clear of me. No, the love boat has sailed. My dreams have steadily gotten smaller to the point that all I want, all I care to achieve, is peace before I leave. My heart is still fighting even though most of me has given up. I'm trying so hard to find the good people. I'm also wise enough to dismiss the lowlifes and move on. Life really is too short. My focus is finding kindness in people and reciprocating it.I know you're out there. Please, stand up and be counted.

Update: Don't bother; comments are now disabled.

Thoughts through Images

Rogue Planet

Good morning everyone. I found it funny that the media needed to calm everyone with articles saying life will go on after 2012. Are we really that worried about the end of days? Does anyone really believe time's up?

I saw the movie Melancholia last year. It's Lars von Trier's vision of the final months of all life on Earth. It is visually stunning, and Kirsten Dunst  accurately portrays the depressed clairvoyant Justine. She absolutely nailed it. It's worth a look-see if you haven't already seen it.

The world will not end this year (probably). It is however, another excuse to throw a party!

A still from the film Melancholia. 

A Moment of Reflection

A story of the afterlife. It's long (6077 words), but I didn't want to break it up in installments. If you have ten minutes to spare, check it out. Thanks. :)
 * I delete my stories after a week or so...

The Storm

* I delete my stories after a week or so...

Staten Island

 The preceding story was a fictionalized account of a real storm. Hurricane Sandy was only a category one storm, but it did a lot of damage in Staten Island. The fictional unnamed island in the story sounds like a place I'd like to retire to. Whereas the narrator of the story awakes to find himself completely alone, I discovered my neighbors were warm and friendly. After dealing with a few people in my life who have stabbed me in the back and in my heart, it was nice to find neighbors willing to help selflessly. The quintessential hard-nosed fast-talking, over-achieving and downright rude New Yorker certainly do exist, but so do the numerous hard-working unnamed and unpaid volunteers helping those without homes. They're the real heroes.

The first-date described did happen, although there was no amusement park involved, she was an aspiring actress at the time. I crushed on her for years thereafter until I finally forgot about her. Then I saw her in a movie and everything came flooding back. She achieved her dreams. I admired her drive to get things done, and drive is something I desperately need. I included her in the story because I think about her often. She serves as a reminder to get off my ass and start my life. A number of my friends have succeeded in whatever fields they have entered.  I'll be 50 next week and I've achieved nothing.

Until We Meet Again

As you can probably guess by my absence on your blogs and my own intermittent posting, life is again throwing me curves. It appears the Big Test is an ongoing process in Charlie World. That’s fine. I’ll crack some jokes and drink.  

Stories need to be written, music needs to be composed and recorded, people need killin’, and things in general must be addressed with minimal distraction. (For the benefit of our friendly FBI agents, I’m kidding about the killing part.) You’ll still see me from time to time on the various social sites offering my 140 character pearls of wisdom and basic wise-assery, but I need to focus on some important issues. Carry on.