Votary Nerves - released!

My latest novel, Votary Nerves, is now available. The soft launch has rolled forth. You can order it in paperback and for the Kindle. I might be biased here, but you should totally buy a copy. It's nutty, it's strange, it's personal. And it would mean a lot to me if you read it, maybe dog eared a page or two.

From Votary Nerves:

My dreams that night did not condone rest. Ever see a man with translucent skin? I did. I have dreamt of him many times before. Bright images ticked and shined through his epidermis. And he was loud. Static danced and burned my eyes and I wanted nothing to do with him. He was the terrorist I liked to call Televisor. He was apt to pin people down and force them to watch his heartbeat the images of Nagasaki in repeat. He desired to do this until everyone resigned to go live in a world built from television scraps that grew from the Earth by copper vines. I blamed the dreams on my dad for thinking it necessary to collect televisions that bulged our retinas.

Good Feelings

Every now and then I try to keep on a schedule of pseudo transcendental meditation. Pseudo in that there's a specialized technique that gurus charge thousands of dollars to guide you through. I go off of stuff I've read in articles, techniques from various blogs found from googling the subject. When I someday have thousands leftover after paying monthly bills, I'll hire one.


Today, in trying to dissipate a lingering spring anxiety I seem to get every year, I sat down and decided to grab 20 minutes of such meditation. And it was good. In fact, the tingling I became aware of made me giggle. And the tingling felt really quite weird.  And I giggled some more, taking me out of it, which was a relief, because the good feeling was overwhelming.


It made me remember something a friend once told me. He was a little older than me, and mentioned that he found as life goes by you just become more tolerant of pain. And he found himself feeling really good one day and felt like something was wrong.


The fact the we feel so weird about feeling good makes me think that there are many elements to modern life that need to be revised. Plugging our conscious into a course that welcomes its daily dose of anxiety is just stupid. Perhaps we feel guilty because we've moved on from our animal days and don't necessarily have direct, fanged predators breathing in the bushes. Some of us do maybe, but I'm lucky not to, unless a neighbor starts trying to feel good with bath salts. Anyway, my seeming everyday problems probably shouldn't take precedence in my frontal cortex over sitting cross-legged, eyes closed, and giggling. 


And I feel good about this little pep talk I just made public.

I Plan on Firing Anxiety (Here is How it Will Go Down)

With the seasonal temperature shifts, I sometimes find myself feeling an explicable anxiety, a gnawing, ill-informed nervousness that follows me like I'm a heat lamp. I'm thinking of getting rough with it, cutting this anxiety loose, like in those sad boy loves animal movies where circumstances force him to tell it to scram despite every bone in his body hating the act of severance with the confused creature. 


Well, I wouldn't  feel so bad about telling anxiety to get lost. I just have to sit down and do it. I want to be a creature of comfort.


-----

Me: Mr. Anxiety, please take a seat.


Anxiety: I'm very busy...


Me: I'm not asking.


Anxiety: Fine, man.


Me: Listen, there's no easy way to put this, I've lost a lot of sleep over this, but we all deserve a peace of mind-


Anxiety: Cut the bullshit.


Me: Funny way to put it, that's what I'm asking you to do!


Anxiety: I don't like jokes, sir.


Me: You were assigned to me at birth with the intent to protect me by alerting me to real predatory dangers. Things change, the world we operate in develops down strange paths, and we take on new challenges, complicated challenges.


Anxiety: I haven't taken my break yet today...


Me: You'll get a nice break. Fact is you work too hard and you've hijacked your purpose. You're sounding little alarms all over the place, distracting my departments, dissolving all real resolve of mission, scattering priorities, depleting adrenal resources.


Anxiety: I work harder than anyone else!


Me: Yet you're ignorant to the fact that you've derailed everyone else's ability to work! You're holding this operation back!


Anxiety: I'm sorry you're not pleased with my performance.


Me: Worrying hasn't been an effective strategy. I'm sorry, Mr. Anxiety, but I'm letting you go.


Anxiety: Fuck you man! What will I do now?


Me: Evolve. Your severence is this shot of whiskey. Here. Drink. Relax.


Anxiety takes the shot, glares at me, and gives me the middle finger.


Me: Leave the door open on your way out. I like the breeze.


Fade to Black.

Animal Anxiety

I was thinking about this idea over lunch - earlier this morning while getting dressed I accidentally bumped my box fan on my cat. He of course was fine, only a minor brushing of an object which glided off of his fluffy fur. But the look of terror in his eyes at the moment was intense, as of course cats are prone to over react to stimuli. I tend to feel anxiety here and there but I'm always able to talk myself down through cognitive recognition of the actual smallness of some stressors. But take for instance last week, some work was being done on our building and the noise was giving my cat extreme "big eyes." Unfortunately we are not able to properly communicate to him what is going on. I can only imagine the anxiety pumping through his blood - pure primal flight. So while thinking of this over lunch I imagined for minute what if someone injected me with a concoction of animal stress hormones. I wonder how different they are from cortisol and other adrenal gland secretions our human bodies create. I felt absolutely terrified for a moment, and then was able to talk myself down and dissolve the wickedness of my imagination, which seems to be most vivid when conjuring up the worst. Now to imagine blue skies and puffy clouds. That doesn't seem to be as sharp in my mind's eye. Wolves and sharks? For some reason sharper in mental resolution.