Friday, June 22, 2018

the algebra of melancholy

After an extensive interlude of writer’s block – two years, I believe – I have begun the writing of my next novel. Something I am quite passionate about. It concerns the wayward misfortunes of Ford Davis, a twenty-three year old aspiring writer as he hitchhikes from a small southwest town to San Diego and his quest for more lucrative opportunities and perhaps even the most elusive, love. Occupied by awkward and mundane peoples during Ford's trek and set against the backdrop of a country leaning towards the threat of atomic annihilation by newly elected president, a former game show host/Chicago slum lord named Wink Scottsdale, this new book is a somewhat dystopian tale with marginally homosexual tendencies. The working title: The Algebra of Melancholy. I like it, it fits.
In further news: Six or seven years ago, I applied for admission into a very modern apartment here in Tucson. Through mischance and various unfortunate events, I thought I had lost it. Well, as I was checking my e-mails yesterday, I received an invitation to rent at the very exclusive complex located in the heart of downtown Tucson. I actually thought years ago the deal was botched, but through a miracle of God (and really, that is exactly how I see it. Wouldn’t you?) I am now attaining the paperwork for the admission interview next Wednesday at 9am. Originally, I was simply passing through Tucson to return to Tijuana and an unknown future. What does this mean? No more travelling, no more living in junky ridden grottos mired in fear and debasement, no more uncertain days of where am I heading or what am I doing.
Do not fret your little head none, Dear Reader, I will certainly maintain this blog. It simply will be different. I will focus more on my writing and thoughts and perhaps – perhaps – a little wayward absurdities here and there.

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