Holy Jesus Christ in space, we did it.

Well, about 18 months ago I had an idea to start writing a 50 poem series about alien abduction, watchers in the night, and being in space. As you can see in the photo above, the first poem was done in September 20th, 2021; not included above, is the last poem in the series, which I finished on July 31st, 2022. It took me the better part of 12 months to write, though there were some long gaps in writing. Some of it was I just didn’t have the energy to write, or the brainpower or whatever; 2022 was a real challenge for me in a lot of ways. Maybe November, 2021, or so, I started having some dramatic physical issues: my hips were bunged up, I had shoulder impingements in both shoulders, and tendonitis in my hands so bad that I could barely grip a key to unlock my front door or turn on the car; it was a fucked experience, and took the better part of 6 months for all those issues to resolve. I worried a lot about my ability to even hold a pen, let alone sit at a typewriter or a computer and really work. Oh yeah, my brother died in there, too. I never thought about not finishing this project, In the Stars (a title I still don’t love…), but my ability to complete it was another issue entirely. As my hands started to improve, I was able to use a pen more and more frequently, and was able to write Coffee and Yogurt, and The Notebook Blues. Over those months, I would fire up the Dream Machine—I hacked away in January, a bit of February, a little in March, and a little in April, maybe a few poems each time—but never really picked up a ton of traction because of the paaaaaaaiiiinnnn. However, when July hit—which I think was a month or so after we spread my brother’s ashes—I felt physically good enough (and mentally, too, I guess) to really sit down and get writing, and I blasted through the last maybe 15 or so poems in a couple of days; lolololol, I know, 15 poems in a few days is a fart in the wind compared to some people who can do that in a blink. Then I got to sit down and edit, which I love doing because the heavy lifting—to me, anyway—is already done, and when I am editing it feels like I am just nitpicking at someone else’s work and I can do it with relatively cold objectivity. All of the above is to say that today I finally finished transposing physical copies on the Dream Machine. I did some last-minute spot editing as I did that, and had the chance to clean up some clerical errors; I type around 100ish words a minute and do it pretty fast and loose, so there were some minor things to fix. Whatever the case might be, I feel really happy with how things have turned out.

As I edited and typed and re-typed, I saw a lot of themes becoming apparent, though the first and foremost I saw was how detached and disconnected I was becoming, or had already become. I remember commenting to my partner somewhere near the beginning of Plague that I thought I was changing and didn’t know if I would ever be the same as I had been. I suppose the changes were subtle in some ways, and more overt in other ways. There’s a lot to unpack and I pay a therapist handsomely to help me navigate through it all, and I don’t need to subject you, Dear Reader, to any of the minutiae; suffice to say, the project began to be more than just about alien abduction and all that fun stuff. Whatever the case might be, the project was revelatory in some capacities, and, in other ways, shined a light on what I knew was going on with me personally, but maybe hadn’t really confronted yet; it was a lot of fun to write, I think, and I’m excited to share.

Of course, as with any of us who suffer from the scourge of hyperfocus/obsession and compulsion—and, to be clear, I am not conflating my ADHD and other diagnoses with OCD—there’s never really an end to some of this stuff. Like, In the Stars is done, but the work continues on with The Notebook Blues, Botched Last Rites, and a new one—Taking the Lords'/Lord’s Name in Vain. I suppose there are loose themes with the latter two collections, but I don’t think there’s any explicit or active effort to have a consistent through line existing within the writing itself. I don’t know. Maybe that’s all hogwash, bullshit, and hot air. It probably is. I’m sure anyone—if anyone does, anyway—who reads the work will have different opinions; you know, with the author being dead and all.

ANYWAY, all of this is to say: Holy Jesus Christ in Space, we did it! I have a few days off in a row coming up, so I’ll, hopefully, be able to get everything photographed and then we are on our way in terms of release. THEN I GET TO DO IT ALL AGAIN! YES!!!