So everyone should just read my last blog and know that things were getting better, but now they're right back in the same place. FaaaaaanTAStic....

On a positive note, I've seen The Dark Knight twice now (first at a midnight showing) and I'm still having a hard time fathoming how good it was. I was thinking Heath Ledger definitely deserved a Best Actor nomintation, but now that I've seen the movie twice I also think it should get some serious Best Picture consideration.

And I'm getting close to being done with my book. I have maybe 75 pages left. So close, yet so far away. I'm sorely tempted to just end it at a spot I just reached, which COULD be an ending but isn't quite as good a one as what I have in mind (this is book one of two, so the decision is really where to cut it off). I think mainly I just want to be done with this and that would be a psychological thing.

And I'm really tired and rambly (that's a new word I just invented, deal with it), and the Joker is running through my head right now, so I need to stop typing.

First of all, I'm in the midst of a hellish move and dealing with some personal issues, so I'm sorry for not having time to read anyone else's blogs for a while. That said, God this week has been awful. As if the normal complications of moving across the country weren't enough, my girlfriend is having a breakdown.

She isn't exactly depressed (she was in the past, but not so much now), but she has severe anxiety problems. And I mean severe. Not panic attacks, but nervousness about everything, beginning when she wakes up in the morning. Her stomache is a complete mess; she has to eat constantly but when she actually begins taking in food she gets nauseous. In the past few days she's thrown up almost everything she's eaten -- it got to the point tonight where she balled her eyes out and swore she couldn't handle this; she even thought she was going to get really sick from not being able to eat and maybe even die. We think it might be stomach acids caused by the anxiety, but antacids aren't helping. What's more, we're in the middle of a move and she doesn't have insurance through her new job yet so she can't go see a doctor to get a prescription for any anti-anxiety drugs.

And I don't know what to do. In many ways I feel responsible; she's moved with me twice in the past year. I'm going to grad school in Baltimore and she's coming with me, away from her family in Indiana. I'm very patient with her, and so far I've managed to be as supportive as possible without letting any of my frustrations with this situation show, but these past few days have been a real test.

She thinks things will get better once we're actually in our new apartment (it's our first time living together, which she's also terrified about) and life settles down, but I'm afraid her anxiety will just keep coming back. I even asked if she wanted to move back to Indiana with her parents for a time so she could take this $600 anti-anxiety program without having to worry about making rent or being in a new place, but she shot down that idea.

It's weird... after another bad spell tonight (the medicine was working, but then she got all freaked out that it was the only thing that would work), I got online to read the opinion pages on yahoo.com. I actually found myself smiling to only be worrying about those abstract problems. They used to get me so upset....

I'm not sure what I'm expecting from posting this; if anyone has any suggestions, they'd be most welcome. Really, I think I just need to write this out where someone will read it, because this is the only one of my personal sites (MySpace and Facebook, for example) that she doesn't read.

I'm staying up late at night after she goes to bed just to have some time to myself. That sounds selfish, but fuck, if I didn't take that time I might lose my patience and say something like, "You need to toughen up," when I know that's the worst thing I could say. It's a different way of viewing the world; I know I don't fully understand it, and I'm trying to do the best I can. Mostly, that means patience... lots of patience. Fortunately that's something I've always had, but this is whole thing is trying it.

You know, I've now moved four times in the past five years, and every time I've sworn never to do so again.

So why don't I ever listen to myself? Is grad school really worth this shit>

What really gets me? I'm moving across the country to get my MFA in Creative Writing, so that I'll be good enough to find an agent and get published. Well now I actually have the ear of a literary agent who wants to read my full manuscript when it's done and wants me to keep her up to date on anything else I'm working on; I'm about a week's hard work away from finishing my book, but I haven't been able to write much at all lately because of this damn move.

You have to admire irony, even (especially?) when it kicks you in the ass.

And now for a special addendum -- a few things that made me scratch my head, grit my teeth, or contemplate slamming either my or someone else's head into a brick wall on this July 4th:

1.) Joanna and I went to see the fireworks in downtown Philadelphia tonight, but we left before they started because they had a fucking concert that lasted TWO HOURS. What's more, it was John Legend, an R&B guy, and he didn't play one patriotic song (not that I expected him to). Then, when they finally got to the fireworks (that we watched on TV), they played a bunch of new age, world, and borderline funk music before finally consenting to play some sort of American songs that I had never heard before. Where the fuck was the 1812 Overture? That song was made for fireworks. THIS IS PHILADELPHIA, THE PLACE WHERE AN EVENT OCCURED IN 1776 THAT HAPPENS TO BE THE ACTUAL REASON WE CELEBRATE THE 4TH OF JULY! And I'd say a good 60% of the people there were only there for the concert. Half of them probably don't even know why July 4th is celebrated. Seriously, people should pass a test to vote. Not a hard test; maybe some basic questions about the Declaration of Independence, the Constitution, and the like. If they don't pass, they get their voting rights revoked. End of story. In annoyance I turned over the Boston Pops, recalling the numerous July 4th concerts that appropriately ended with Tchaikovsky's masterpiece, preceded by songs like "God Bless America," and "America the Beautiful" (which I personally much prefer to the "Star Spangled Banner" -- much more bold and inspiring). So what are the Pops playing over the final fireworks? Rascal Flatts. Country. I'm not even going to say anything else....

2.) Jessie Helms died today, and already people are saying it was appropriate that such a patriot should die on this day. Jessie Helms was not a patriot; Jessie Helms was a racist fuck who didn't even have the balls to come out and admit he was a racist. That's the worst kind: the type who starts off each sentence with, "I'm not racist, but..." You know, "I'm not racist, but I just don't like black people and think they would be better off as slaves." If he could have gotten away with it, Jessie Helms would have rounded up every homosexual and put them into concentration camps and turned on the gas. Calling him a champion of conservatism is an insult to reasoned, intelligent conservatives like my grandparents and several of their friends.

3.) President Bush gave a speech from Thomas Jefferson's home in Virginia equating the Iraq War with Jefferson's original vision of freedom for all. Say what you will for or against the Iraq War, but don't put it in the frame of the American Revolution. The Revolution began because people inside this country had reached the point where they decided to throw off their tyrant. They decided they were ready to form their own country. They got some help from the French, but ultimately they did the work themselves. What we did in Iraq is the equivalent of the French coming over here in 1740 and saying, "You know what? You need to be free from the British. We're going to kick them out and then help you start your own country." Would it have worked then? Hell no. Revolutions have to come from within, not without. If the French had done that, who here in America would have been smart enough and strong enough to form their own government? No one. And people wonder why democracy in Iraq hasn't coalesced yet....

4.) This is a weird keyboard and, while typing the title of this note, I accidentally said "4th of July Gropes" without even realizing it until it was nearly too late. While that would have been amusing, it's annoying that it almost happened. Even now, I'm constantly hitting "Backspace" because I keep hitting the wrong keys. Who designed this thing?

So, breezing over that little-read downtrodden blog post from yesterday, I can say now that today I met with th eliterary agent I signed up to sit down with at this writer's conference thing here in Austin and it went a lot better than I expected it to. She was great, and genuinely seemed interested in what I was doing. She loved the idea I pitched to her for the book I've been working on and told me to send her the full manuscript when I finish it, which should be in about 2-3 weeks. She also asked about my other ideas for future books so I told her about three or four other concepts that I've been jotting down over the past few years.

After I was done she sat back, smiled, and said, "Wow, you have a wonderful imagination." After asking for the manuscript, she gave me her card and told me to keep her informed about what I was working on and that she was "expecting great things" out of me. Needless to say, I'm a little excited....

I meet with this literary agent tomorrow for what will probably be the most important meeting in my life thus far. Ten minutes is all I'll have. I met with a couple at an informal get-together after the conference stuff tonight, and one of them told me to send in my first four or five chapters, but apparently she does that a lot and that's not a guarantee of anything. Another one seemed pretty interested, but told me to wait until I was done writing the first book before I sent anything to her. I have maybe a hundred pages to go. I'd write a lot more on it this week if it weren't for the move.

And speaking of that move, things here are totally fucked. The movers we had lined up suddenly changed their tune and are now saying it'll cost $8900. I'll repeat that: $8900. Yeah, I don't think so. Now we need to find new movers. But wait, there's more....

My apartment here is making us pay a whole extra month's rent because apparently in Texas they automatically renew your lease once it's up unless you give them 30 days advance notice, which I didn't do because I've NEVER had to do that anywhere else. Bullshit like this always fucking happens whenever I'm about to get a financial repreive. Every FUCKING time. I'm seriously so stressed out and pissed off about this that my body feels like it's breaking down.

This is why I don't own a gun.

Finally got back to writing the other day (I have about 355 pages so far), and I've finally figured out how to move the story forward. My meeting with the agent is next weekend. Ten minutes to pitch my book and myself, and to make myself stand out from the who-knows-how-many-other potential authors the agent will be meeting with. I'm a little nervous about it, and I normally don't get nervous.

Oh, and the Barnes & Noble I was planning on transferring to in Baltimore is now telling me I can only work maybe 20 hours a week in receiving (the back stock room with flourescent lights). The manager (whom I had spent two weeks trying to get ahold of) couldn't wait to get off the phone with me and totally brushed me off to an assisstant who essentially told me that even if I came in on my visit to Baltimore this weekend they wouldn't be able to tell me anything else. And my paychecks from my store here are steadily getting smaller because of all the time I've had to take off to prepare for this move.

And the student loans I was counting on in order to actually attend classes might not go through because I forgot to send in my stupid signature through snail mail until this week.

Yay, everything I've been working toward for the past year is slowly crumbling.

Fun times....

But here's a video you all should watch (it's kind of long, but trust me, it's worth watching).

I posted this in the HBO group, but few people respond there so I thought I'd post it here too. Just a heads up: this regards my recent obsession, the TV show The Wire, but you don't have to watch it to get what I'm talking about here.

I just finished watching Season 4 (and I'm pissed that I have to wait until August 12 to see Season 5), but I wanted to bring up something about the "snitch" label. I really started thinking about it when

I can understand why some of the older blacks would mistrust the police -- hell, as corrupt and racist as a lot of major city police departments were in the '60s and '70s, who could blame them? -- but the younger generation doing the same... I don't know. I should offer the caveat that I'm white and I grew up in a decent middle class neighborhood in Indiana, so I've never been to some of the places in life these people have, but it seems to me that the whole "don't snitch" ethos is created by manipulative gang leaders to protect their own assess.

I mean, as Bodie said in the Season 4 finale, he sacrificed a lot to protect his bosses, but when it was time for them to help him, they fucked him over. Gang leaders like Marlo seem like cult leaders to me: they take impressionable kids and fill their heads with this "don't snitch" crap and make it sound all honorable and noble, but all they're really doing is using them. And the kids who take that ideal to heart completely buy into it. It's one thing to not talk to the police; it's another to actively hunt down anyone who does talk to them.

I don't know, I may not have the right to critique this mindset, but after seeing what happened to Randy, I just got to thinking about the whole thing and it really made me sick. Anyone else have any ideas on this?

"You know what the trouble is, Brucie? We used to make shit in this country, build shit. Now we just put our hand in another guy's pocket."

--Frank Sobotka, The Wire

I think I'm going to lead off every new blog post with a quote from The Wire (well, probably not, but maybe the next few posts). There are just so many good lines there.

My girlfriend and I went to Baltimore this weekend to look for apartments. That city's fucking expensive; worse than Austin. The main prospects we found were a downtown high rise (Charles Towers) with a 2-bedroom for $1,375/month (but that includes utilities) and an extra $140/month for parking and some cheaper places out in White Marsh, about ten miles away from downtown. But there's no guarantee that a place in Charles Towers will open up for us in time because they only require their residents to give 30 days advance notice of when they'll be leaving. The places out in White Marsh might be our best bet; there's a Barnes & Noble out there where I could work and a lot of convenient amenities. But of course I would have to drive ten miles every two days to get to class and then again whenever else we wanted to hang out downtown, which will be often. Living in the heart of downtown would be damn cool, but also damn inconvenient; there are really no gas stations or supermarkets or anything anywhere close to the apartments. At least out in White Marsh there's a B&N, restaurants, gas stations, movie theaters, and even a mall. Those places only charge about $800-900/month for spacious 2-bedroom apartments. My girlfriend also just told me about some other suburb areas she wants to look at, but White Marsh actually has a place where I could walk to work and maintain my good pay rate without having to start all over at the bottom of the ladder. I'm just getting burned out on searching for apartments. At one point while we were over there, we were sitting down to lunch and I was just slumped in my chair and echoed McNulty's favorite line from The Wire : "What the fuck did I do?" I only half-jokingly considered telling the University of Baltimore thanks but no thanks and reapplying everywhere else next year, but that was just the frustration talking.

We started to drive out to a place that advertised a 2-bedroom for $675/month, but we quickly realized that we were driving through the bad parts of West Baltimore -- probably one of the worst places in America. You know that warning feeling you get that tells you to get the fuck out of where you are right now? Yeah, I got that big time. We turned around about halfway to the apartment and didn't call back. I saw a few buildings there and in East Baltimore that I know I've seen on The Wire, which was kind of cool but also a sign that I was in the wrong part of town.

It's funny; the worst parts of West Baltimore are only about ten blocks away from downtown, but it's like there's an invisible barrier that separates the two. Downtown citizens don't venture out there and the Westsiders don't go downtown. In addition to watching The Wire, I've also been reading David Simon's two books Homicide and The Corner, which deal a lot with that area. It's almost like an entirely different planet. Homicide was making me nervous about moving to Baltimore at first, but now it's actually proven quite helpful because it's shown me where not to live.

I hate moving. Especially to a city very far away where I don't know anyone at all. Moving down here to Texas was hard enough, and I have family here in Austin. It seems like I just did that, and now I have to do it all over again. I think it's worse this time.

"Don't matter who did what to who at this point; fact is, we went to war, and now there ain't no going back. I mean, shit, that's what war is, you know? Once you in it, you in it. If it's a lie, then we fight on that lie; but we gotta' fight!"

--Slim Charles, The Wire

One of my more conservative friends the other day said about the Iraq War that it doesn't matter now if we were right or wrong to go in there, that now we're there, we have to stay. I respect that position, but it sounds eerily similar.... And the guy on the show who said the quote above was just a dumb, thuggish gangster.

Had a disconcerting experience last night. I was headed to the store to buy more wine when I found myself avoiding the self check-out because the same guy is always there to check IDs for alcohol and I was afraid he would think I'm an alcoholic for buying more bottles of wine (I've probably gone once every three days for the past couple weeks). Then I stopped and wondered if I really was becoming an alcoholic. I joke about it all the time, but I've never actually thought of myself as a real one. I didn't drink anything last night as a way to prove to myself that I wasn't a slave to it. It's good that I was able to do that, but still, the thought's been planted.

Anyway, in other news, I'm finally ready to start writing again. I have a little over 340 pages and 105,000 words. I've also recently decided it might be a better pitch idea to cut the book into two shorter books and make it a duology. I like the idea of a single epic, but from a marketing standpoint two books may be better. Plus, that would also mean I'm almost done with a full-length novel instead of being a little over halfway done. It's a nice little psychological milestone.