Skies aren’t so blue, though.
I’m up in the Catskills, alone for the weekend, to work on my shit.
“What shit, Beck?” you ask.
- I’m here to calm down and get some headspace. Without getting into too much detail, I’ve been on the struggle bus a little lately. Ever depersonalized? It’s fucked up.
- I’m here to write a book. Well, not a whole book. Rome wasn’t built in a day. A book does not get written in three days. Maybe by someone else it might, but not by me. I pat myself on the back when I finish a blog post, kids. I’ve been trying to write a book for 30 years. Get real.
So I’m here, in a small but modern and cubical cottage. I’m checking in with work stuff for my Big Kid Job, but I also just did some critiques and now I’m writing this post. Both things will get me in the mood to work on Beck Stuff. It’s chilly today – in the 60s and no higher – and grey and might rain. My favorite weather.
“Beck,” you say. “Are you being sarcastic?”
Fair question. People often think I’m being sarcastic when I say, in writing rather than out loud, that I’m excited about dreary weather, because who says that and means it? But I do. I mean it. I’m a vampire. Cold and rainy and grey is my jam. So when I say, “It’s going to be cold and rainy the whole time I’m there; awesome” I’m being sincere.
Now that I’ve explained myself to all two of you, I bid you good day.