Yes, I’ve come to the lounge of the rehab program to use the computer because mine is broken. I need to type often. For some people, writing is a pen in a journal that gets read by no one. For me, writing is the rhythm of a mechanical keyboard into a web browser tab that eventually can be read by anyone who feels like it. There are about 500 cases of someone feeling like it per month, and that ain’t bad for someone who has no idea what they’re doing and doesn’t tend to know what they’re going to write.
I used to be glued to the traffic statistics of this blog because I have a sick requirement for the validation of others. I don’t really look at it anymore. I almost never read anything I’ve written, and I really only concern myself with the feeling of getting it out, which is 90 percent of my reason for doing it. The reader is the last 10 percent. Whenever someone tells me that they regularly read my writing, I am so honored and amazed. There is never a thought of “what would X person want me to write about”, though. I think it would compromise the process. That’s the beauty of finding out that someone was able to connect with it because it means I’m not alone with all of this shit I walk around with in my head.
This keyboard in the lounge is one of those old ones with the large individual keys that collect dust between them and make a lot of noise when they are pressed, and it feels positively magical to get rocking on it like I am now. These keyboards probably cost less than 10 dollars at Staples, and I need to remind myself to have one when I get established at my new apartment.
I had a rough day, man, I did. The death of another computer was devastating. I know they are inanimate objects. I have had a strange connection to technology since I was a child. Consider this: one of my learning disabilities was that I had problems with my small motor skills, and therefore my handwriting was mostly illegible. I seriously had to work at that, and I had to see special therapists to get my hands to listen to my brain. Some educator got the bright idea to put me in front of the Macintosh in the back of my classroom, and suddenly my capacities for communication were a lot better. And so, when I lose a computer, I feel like I lose a bit of my own capability to effectively communicate.
I have a specific unwritten rule in my writing life to not take myself too seriously or overinflate the importance of my work. Although I run the risk of doing both of those things, I need it to be known that writing is the most important and meaningful thing that I do. The rediscovery of my ability to do it was a life-changing moment. It’s a part of discovering who I actually am when I had gone a good 35 years without really knowing. I am an artist. I don’t really care how obnoxiously pretentious that sounds. There are people who are the creative type, and I am one of those people.
So there I was, soaking wet from today’s rain, being told that my computer was kaput. To add insult to injury, Christmas music was playing in the store because life is funny and knows that I hate Christmas. And I scrambled to find a way to fund a replacement computer.
Of course, I don’t like the look of reaching out for help on public forums. If you have been reading this blog for a while, or if you have seen the film I’m in, you’ll know that I spent a great deal of time living on the street and panhandling for spare change to stay fed. It triggers a kind of post-traumatic stress, and it hurts my ego because I feel like a loser. I imagine people criticizing me, and what they’d say… It always sounds like some Republican/Libertarian-type “pull yourself up by the bootstraps” thing in my imagination. There is probably no one saying that, but of course, I can drive myself up a wall with imagined slights to my fragile self-worth.
I don’t know what else to do, though. I really don’t want to spend a long time without the means to express myself.
This post isn’t the one asking for help because I’m going to end up with another computer somehow; I just have yet to see how. I’m going to make myself a little command center of writing in my room, and it’s going to get better the more I work at it.
I’m going to just put my email address here, in case you want to say hi, or actually help me with my lack of computer (shot in the dark): ev.penk7@gmail.com
