The year started off with me in the warm embrace of a cold. Actually, the cold carried over from Christmas 2017 into New Years 2018, because it just wanted to party with me. After the cough dissipated around mid-January, I welcomed the serene quiet of Los Angeles during Sundance. But, really, the city is never quiet.
In February, I flew into Montana for my birthday. I remember taking pictures through the plane’s window as we descended into Butte. It was bitterly cold and snowy. I remember thinking I hope I don’t die. I think that a lot on planes.
March was unmemorable from what I can remember.
By May I had gained ten pounds. My first-ever adult novel was also going out on submission to publishers, and my excitement was palpable (to me only). Every day was a day that my book could sell. That I’d get The Call. (Actually, I wasn’t sure if my agent would call or email, so I checked both incessantly.)
In late June I remember having one of the loneliest moments of the year at a restaurant in West Yellowstone, Montana. Just all-encompassing, bitter, raw loneliness. But the feeling slowly left as I ate my steak. I worried that after finishing the steak my arteries would clog and I’d have a heart-attack. I then worried about having too many worries, knowing that obsessive worrying can lead to heart-attacks.
By August, a movie I thought I’d be filming that past April and then June and then September was no longer happening thanks to the investors who bailed. I had gained a few more pounds.
By the end of September, with the rent too high for my liking, and my chakras feeling blocked, I decided to go write a novel in Montana, where I could be in nature and have a slower, quieter pace. I took my cat, who was definitely not interested in a sixteen hour road trip. Or a slower, quieter pace.
Throughout October and November I froze my ass off. And didn’t really go outside or write in the new novel. I made one trip to LA and wished I didn’t have to go back to Montana because I liked wearing shorts and t-shirts outside in late October. But I couldn’t leave my cat.
I flew back into Butte with a heavy blizzard happening. No visibility to take pictures out of the airplane. I still did though. I deleted them shortly after. I remember thinking, I hope I don’t die today. I think that a lot on planes.
By December, I’d managed to lose a few pounds. I wonder if it’s the depression of low light? I have, however, despite the continuing ennui, worked on the new novel. I’m nearly finished with my “shitty first draft” (that’s what I call all first drafts to take the pressure off of being good).
My cat constantly sleeps on the top of the piano, which I find strange; he doesn’t get along with the other cats. There’s lots of hissing. It’s currently 3 degrees out, and soon to be in the negatives over night.
My adult novel still hasn’t sold. I worry that it sucks. I also still worry that I worry too much. Though my chakras, from what I can tell, are beginning to open. Or maybe it’s just the year end insanity creeping in.
From my family to yours – Happy holidays!
Justin
Il posto di Justin 