So today I’m checking myself into the hospital. The infections reached a lymph node and a fever started, so let’s just say I’m not doing well and there’s not a lot of debate as to the seriousness of where my body is taking me. No one needs to force me to go. I’m gonna head in as soon as I verify the big job is finished as I had to ask several other people to kick in and help see it done before I disappear into the medical system for a day or two. And tack on a serious attack of gout in the big toe too. I faced a temptation last night. Even though physically, I am not feeling great, when someone dangles something you crave, you start to weigh things in your mind; try to justify the stupid. I overcame that obstacle. I am becoming a better man. Just in time to get my ass kicked by infections from a spider bite over a year ago.
Yesterday was a good work day regardless of the pain. Got a lot done. Started prep for a lot of new things. I think my ‘work‘, if it’s not too pretentious to refer to short films made for nickels can be defined as ‘work‘, will define my life.
I have never ever regretted the switch from music to movies all those years ago. I stopped playing music and composing in 1999. It was also the year of writer’s block and the first period of systematic, unmotivated depression. I got through it when I got an email and phone call with an offer for a paid job to write a series of short films about death.
I sketched out a series of 8-10 ideas on a yellow legal pad, left work early, then wrote drafts of every single one of them and faxed them to the guy the next morning at work. He asked me what they put in the water in Columbus Ohio. He wasn’t expecting to read anything for 3-4 weeks, not have complete drafts the next day. It never turned into a payday as was promised on the phone, but they did become the screenplays to several of my first short films the first 2 years I made movies. Bitter Old Man, Minivan, The Quarry, Asphyxiated Heart, all came from that writing session in one night.
That catalyst changed everything. It reverberated throughout the next few years of my life. I don’t know what that motivation will be today or tomorrow. It’s the piece that’s missing. There are petty distractions and the necessities of life that get in the way.
And my failing health. As soon as I deal with one problem, a new one arises or an old one resurfaces. I made my choice a long time ago to live this bohemian lifestyle and I do not regret it, even though it costs me now. I knew what I was doing when I decided to take this road.
I may be an asshole, but I’m getting better. I’ve done a lot of shitty things in my day, but I never hit a woman in anger, I never abused a girlfriend, and I gave just as much as I took. I’m not as bad as I think sometimes.
“After my picture fades and darkness has turned to gray, watching through windows – you’re wondering if I’m OK. Secrets stolen from deep inside the drum beats out of time”
― Cyndi Lauper