I wish I could help you. I wish I could give you some advice. But anything I can think of just sounds hacky. And I’m certainly not qualified. I don’t know your situation. I don’t know you.

God knows I’m genetically/chemically predisposed to depression. But I feel my depression has mostly been situational. My most recent bout came from a feeling of aimlessness and uselessness. I wasn’t doing anything I really wanted, but I didn’t know what I wanted in the first place. Now I’m in school. I have a goal, a reason to get up in the morning. I have very clear progress with each assignment turned in, each box checked. But I worry what will happen when I graduate. Is school just procrastinating? Even if I find a good job right away, I may fall right back into depression again. I don’t know.

I’ve never seriously considered suicide. Briefly, as a teen. But I considered it cheating. I most certainly am a quitter when called for. But suicide felt like a last resort after trying everything else. I haven’t tried everything else yet. I’m still here.

For other people, their depression isn’t situational. Fucking chemicals. Your parents’ fucking genes. There’s no escaping that if that’s the case. Just drugs. I do recommend anti-depressants for those people. I know a woman who takes them. She said she barely needs them, really, but she doesn’t like who she is without them. I don’t really know what she means, but my first thought was, “Then change who you are! Don’t mask the problem, or escape it. Fix it.” But that’s not fair. If she’s really a better, funnier person with the drugs, and happier, then who am I to say.

I recently wondered what’s so bad about suicide. If someone really wants to go away, why is that wrong? My father, a therapist, without me even asking, volunteered some information. He said that among jumpers who survive the fall, the vast majority’s last thought was, “Oh my god, this is a mistake. I want to live.” So besides the waste of suicide, the shame of seeing a promising life end, the potential mistake of it is the scariest.

Sorry if this is too serious. It’s not clever or funny or veiled. You’re probably feeling ten times worse now, reading this. All I can say is: figure it out. Deal with it. Get a prescription if you have to. If your family can’t/won’t help you, find someone who will. Keep writing stupid, silly jokes. Fill the jokes with your pain. That’s where the pain belongs.

Asses & Elephants

My piece “Asses and Elephants” was meant to be scathing satire of the election but became a viral dinner party strip game and recipe instead.

Exerpt

When she was done, her heels and stockings were on the floor, her corset strap was no longer holding anything up and she felt much better about herself.  Satisfied, she padded off to bed.  Val had just slid between the sheets and closed her eyes when she realized the room wasn’t dark enough. She opened her eyes to see light coming through the blinds. It got brighter and brighter, lighting up the whole room. That’s when she noticed him. It? No, somehow it was definitely masculine. He was tall, thin, with very large black eyes and very long limbs. He had curly white-blond hair down to his shoulders and looked very exotic. To be exact, he looked like he was trying to be human. He was gorgeous. Yet Val was terrified. The stranger stood by her bed, staring at her.  In one swift motion he tore away the sheets. Val flinched, but was otherwise unable to move. His black eyes took in every inch of her. He brushed her hair off her forehead with cool, long fingers. They felt strangely smooth. Suddenly she felt a spark pierce her inner eye.  The room became a flash of solid white light and disappeared…

What’s this? A sample of my first attempt at a little erotica.

 

 

Ed’s Boozeless Adventure

Ed: I did it I made my goal! A whole month without booze!

Mike: Whoo!  I gotta be honest, I didn’t think you‘d make it but I’m proud of you, you’re an inspiration!

Kevin:  A toast to Ed! 31 days!

M: Whoa, Kevin, we can’t have a toast. The guy just stopped drinking.

K: For a month. He’s done now. And besides–

E: Yeah. I’ve proven I can do it. So gimme that glass n down the hatch!

K: Hey hey hey there, you can’t just drink it! You have to be prepared.

E:  Huh? Why?

K: Why celebrate by doing what you’ve just spent a month not doing? Time for something new. This here glass holds a new experience.

E: H-how new?

K: Very. Mind blowing

E: Really mind blowing? Cause that word gets tossed around a lot these days. “Oh man, you gotta see this movie, listen to this song, sleep with this chick, it’s mind blowing.” Often, I am disappointed.

K: …Mind… Blowing.

E: Huh. Um. I don’t know if I can handle Mind… Blowing.

M: I brought some peyote! You wanna do that instead?

E: Yeah. That sounds good! I’ve never done that before

K: No, you don’t want that. I know what you want and you want this.

E: What is it.

K: Finally you ask! This will change everything. It only lasts about an hour, but that should be long enough. In this glass is a potion. It will turn you into a woman!

E: Aaugh! Why do I want that!

M: Dude. You can play with youself! Dude!

K:  Not quite what I had in mind, but yeah.

E:  What did you have in mind? Finding my feminine side? Empathizing with chicks? Finally understanding them?

K: Those are all noble, but I was thinking…you know we’re all really good friends, right?

E:  R-right.

K: Like, really good friends. We’d do anything for each other. Like Mike almost gave me a kidney.

M:  You bastard. I got tested and everything. I even took a week off of work, checked into the hospital, prepped for surgery…

E: That joke got hilariously out of hand! Kevin didn’t need it at all! He was just testing you and you fell for it! I love that story! Mike and Kevin sittin’ in a tree, K-I-S—

K:  Speaking of kissing… wouldn’t it be fun for you to know what it feels like from the other side?

E:  I think kissing feels the about the same on both sides.

K: Not kissing, you asshole. Fucking.  [pause] don’t you want to know what it feels like for the girl?

M:  Whoa.

E:  Are you saying you want to fuck me?!

[silence.  then…]

M:  I think you’d make a hot chick.

E:  You too Mike?

K:  I’m okay with a three way.

E:  Guys! I’m not fucking you! Not as a woman. Not ever!

K:  What about the potion, though? You could still be a girl for an hour. You could still play with yourself.

E:  You’re gonna watch, aren’t you?

M: Ooh! Can we? That’d be hot!

E:  I DO need to celebrate a month of sobriety…but what if I don’t have big boobs?

M:  I’ve seen your sister, Ed. You’ll have big boobs.

E:  Ew, you’ve been checking out my sister? You’re not wrong, though. Okay. Here goes…uh, do I need ice in this or something?

K: If you want, but not really. C’mon, drink it!

E:  Right. Okay. [gulp]

M:  Well?

K: Give it a chance

E:  I feel it working! I feel, I feel…Justin Timberlake is really talented!  I need more than one pair of black shoes and I understand why! I like tea!

M: Whoa! It works fast! Look at his boobs growing

K:  No, they’ve always been that size—oh! There they go!

E:  We need curtains in here! And let’s coordinate the colors this time!

M: Ed’s hair is so lustrous! And long!

K:  Bye bye five o’clock shadow!

E: All men are scumbags! Oh, how well I know that to be true! Auggh! I hate myself as a man! I never want to be a man again! I am now Emily! And I hate men! I am A LESBIAN!

M and K:  AAaaugh!

K:  No!

M:  [pause] Can we watch?

Shadow Singer

I used to love the dark

Night was my lover and bad news friend

My cloak, my excuse

I was never a recluse

Why did this affair have to end?

 

Shadow at the end of my bed

Watching me sleep

Clawing at my dreams

You haven’t hurt me –yet

Shadow person, what’s your scheme?

 

J: Rory man, what is this crap? You were supposed to write a nice little love song. About a summer’s evening.

R: Sorry, Jake, it just wasn’t coming. I wasn’t feeling it.

J: And the song before this?  About, let me see, how did you put it- “eyes worming into the back of my head, eating my brain, stealing my sanity”? This is shit, Rory, shit!

R: Get off my back, man! THIS is how I feel now, THIS is the kind of songwriter I am!

J: What happened to you, the best-selling love songster of 2011? You gonna throw that all away to become some goth twink? You think your fans are gonna let you? Remember when Garth Brooks became Chris Gains? Is HE still around?

R: [spooked] Is who still around? Is it here? Did you see it?

J: It? What? I was talking about Garth Brooks. What are you on?

R: Nothing! I – I just haven’t been sleeping well lately.

J: Yeah, your shit songs kinda gave that away.  OK, Rory. Listen to me. We need to figure this out. What is going on?

R: Nothing! I just-

J: Rory! I’ve been your agent for 7 years now. We’re friends, right? Right. So tell me!

R: [whispers] it’s been following me, Jake. I used to see it only at night, but it’s everywhere now! I don’t know what it wants from me!

J: What’s following you, Rory? A fan? Do you have a stalker? This is a good thing! Every pop star wants a stalker! Great publicity!

R: No!

J: I can get you bodyguards! We can do a story for ET!

R: NO! Not a stalker! Not human! It’s a shadow. It’s evil. I-I think it wants to eat my soul. Or something…I don’t know what it wants, but it’s not good! I’m scared, Jake!

J: You’re NOT on anything? Here, let me give you something…

R: I need to be alert! I need my wits about me! Man, I wish I could make the dread go away…

J: I can do that! Here, take one of these…

R: No! I can’t relax for a second! Not even during the day! I felt it yesterday at the deli! And the day before, I saw it in an alley as I was driving past! And in the studio, and, and–

J: What are you telling me? Tell me exactly.

R: I can’t make out any features. It’s just a shape. Like a human, but not.  It just stands there, watching me. It radiates pure hate and evil.

J: D-does it lo-look l-like that?

[both]AAAaahhh!

[a third voice, a scratchy, hoarse voice, joins in]Aahh! Stop it! Stop screaming! Pull yourselves together! Geez! Why does everyone always do that?

R: It’s you! You’re the thing! Th-the shadow person!

S: Yes,yes! It’s me! Just calm down!

J: My god, it’s hideous! I’ve never wanted my mommy so much! Hold me!

S: Guys! [J and R let out a little scream] Wait! I know my presence is unnerving…

R: You got any extra underwear in here, Jake?

J: Just one, and I call dibs!

S: I can’t help that I emit pure evil. I was born that way. I’m not all bad. Really.

R: Wh-what do you want? What are you going to do to me? Are you going to suck out my soul?

S: What? No, of course not! Well, normally I would, actually. But not you. See, I need some help.

R: Help? From me? What kind of help?

S: I brought my guitar… let me play for you. [begins strumming]

J: You want to be a musician?

S: I AM a musician. I want to be a pop star!

J: A rock star?

S: No, a pop star! A balladeer! A new Richard Marx!

R: But I’m the new Richard Marx! You can be the new Clay Aiken-

S: Ew! I don’t want-

J: Shut up you two. Look- uh, what’s your name?

S: Sandy

J: Sandy? Sandy, you can’t be a pop star…

S: But you haven’t even heard me yet!  I got a real sweet one about a first kiss. It’s got puppies!

J: Shush! You can’t be a pop star because you’re too dark!

S: Oh, so you want to bring race into this?

J: Don’t play that card with me! I mean being a pop star is all about image! Do you even show up on film?

S: Uh, I…

J: And no one’s gonna get all warm and fuzzy and moist listening to you! They’re just gonna want to slit their wrists!

R: Take it easy, man! Don’t get him mad!

J: or what? He’s gonna slurp out my soul with an eyeball chaser?

S: [sulkily] I could, you know.

J: I don’t think so!  You need to make it in this biz and going around de-souling music agents and the new Richard Marx is gonna stop your career before it even starts!

S: You just said I wouldn’t have a career anyway, so what’s to stop me?

J: I said you couldn’t be a pop star. But you could be a rock star! A real old-school one. The new Marilyn Manson!

R: Yeah! What’s he doing lately? It’s all you, baby!

S: But, but…Puppies…

J: Dead puppies! Great! Gotta change your name tho…Santos…Seraphim…Scarus…

S: No nonono NO! I want to sing love songs! I want to sing about tender caresses and soft rain and eyelashes on my cheek!

R: He’s right, Jake! All that sweet stuff, but with an industrial, atonal accompaniment!  This’ll be great!

J: Do you think so? I don’t know…

S: Yes! This feels so right!

R: Can I write some songs for you? I want to be a part of this new sound! We’ll call it, uh, Dark Love?

S: Sweet Metal?

J: Crap?

S: What did you just say?

J: I said Crap! ‘Cause that’s what it’s gonna be! You gotta go dark, all the way! That’s what you are, you piece of—

R: Jake shut up!

S: You dare call my music crap! My SOUND crap?

J: You don’t have a ‘sound’. You have Crap! Not even anything as pungent as Shit! Just plain old, tepid, go nowhere, no one will even know it exists, crap! Rory here makes shit and it sells like crazy! You’ll just have a lonely MySpace page no one will ever even find!

R: Shit? You called my music shit? I’ve made you so much money you should rename that island Rory’s Vocal Polyps because that’s what I got for singing for you!

J: That’s my point! You make me money! This guy here—

R: Sandy, you hungry?

S: Yep.

R: Well lunch is on me.

J: What? Me? I’m an agent! I only have a little withered up soul! You don’t want—[blood-curdling scream]

S: [slurp] He wasn’t kidding. Not much soul there. Yet still satisfying.

People Don’t Change

Using my boyfriend’s corpse, I rebuilt my lover. But I should have used a different heart; I’d forgotten why I killed him in the 1st place.

Desire is a Good Thing

As she digested the news she had cancer, an odd feeling of joy sprang up. She rediscovered, for the first time in a long while, her desire to live.