Feb 2026: UGGHHHH

Really heavy snow this year.

It’s been a heavy winter. Poughkeepsie recieved its heaviest snowfall in thirty years, not to mention the rise of the Fourth Reich and all. I find it hard to care about most things these days. I almost burst into tears yesterday, because I was on the phone with someone I find difficult to talk to. I just did not care about dealing with this person at all, and my base apathetic state absolutely crumbled as I tried to do business with them. So many assholes and egotistical fuckheads roaming the streets these days, and I just don’t have the patience for them. I want to scream, smash my phone against a rock, and run away. I am tired of being hypnotized by my personal supercomputer. I am tired of being stuck in my own echo chamber. I listen to the radio a lot these days, because I need some genuine human connection while I’m driving around and around and around, running errands, taking care of my dog, going to work, going to events, seeing friends. I don’t want to be stuck in my own Spotify loop as I go around and around and around this life.

Near the end of the day, these days, I find my brain shutting down. It simply doesn’t want to hear anymore, see anymore, think anymore, plan anymore, stress anymore. I want to lie in absolute stillness, darkness, free from chatter and responsibility. The happiest part of some of my days is when I close my eyes and the darkness swoops over me, through me.

I don’t mean to whinge. I mean, that’s the thing: Everything happening to me personally is very positive! Things are going on career-wise that are so freaking cool. Almost every day, I have a moment when I look around and I realize that I feel so numb so often partially because the good moments of my chaotic life are so good it all feels like a dream.

But I’m basically running a small business single-handedly at this point. I’m tracking inventory (books), utilizing networking opportunities (who wants to publish my sci-fi novella?), handling customer relations (Instagram), managing marketing (Instagram) and PR, and navigating my schedule months in advance. I have friends who like to be spontaneous and say things like, “Let’s go on a ski trip this weekend!” To which I say, “My dudes, you don’t understand. I’m planning ahead to next February at this point. I’m not in a space right now where I can just go.” I had some event that weekend I’d already committed to.

I guess maybe I could have bailed on it. I don’t know. They didn’t even go skiing anyway. My therapist tells me to just breathe. She also says to stop saying I don’t know. “You do know.”

I just find myself swimming back through my mind to eight-year-old Sam. He loved books. What did he think writers’ lives were like? I guess he imagined them in a nice room with a big desktop computer, typing away on their clackity keyboards while people brought them trays of snacks. But I don’t actually know what their lives were like. Maybe they had just as many headaches as I do.

When I film something for social media, and I’m editing it, there’s always a bit in the video clips when I flub a line, and my face falls, and for a moment, I stare at the ground. You can see it on my face: What the fuck am I doing? Stephen King never did this shit.

I get so overwhelmed by all this that I find myself dragging my feet with the actual writing, which makes the whole business side of things feel counter-intuitive. I’ve been better the last couple weeks about setting aside time to write in the mornings, before I do anything else. Well, I walk my dog first thing, and feed him, and make coffee, and usually take a dump, check my email a little bit—but then I’ll sit down and I’ll crank out a thousand words before I go about the rest of my day. It’s made me feel like a healthier, more grounded person. And I need that these days because I recently quit coffee (my anxiety!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!), but I didn’t quit pot (though I switched to low-grade indica), so I’m a bit brain-foggier than I have been in the past. Writing first thing helps me feel like I’ve done something just for me. It’s hard though; I used to love writing at night. Little Sam used to come home from school and type away on his family’s computer while the sun was shining and the house was his. Big Sam works until 5, then he’s gotta walk the dog, figure out dinner, and then he basically just wants to sit until his brain gives up around 9pm. For years, I would write in the evenings, when I could believe the world beyond my desk lamp did not exist. Now, I just fall asleep.

It’s not just all the work, it’s the psychic weight of being an American, too.

A friend of mine has spent the last few years living in Miami. I visited them a couple summers ago, and I could see the appeal. We ate mountains of Cuban and Colombian food, went to the beach, watched Jurassic Park on a rooftop with sunset rainbows all around us.

They’re moving back to NYC soon, so they’re working through a Florida bucket list. They spent this last Saturday evening driving out to Naples to see the sunset over the ocean. As my friend described this trip to me, their eyes lit up. They saw alligators right along the side of the road, went to a seafood restaurant that kept jars of pickles on the tables. The sunset was apparently gorgeous, and powerful, and made my friend feel full of life and joy. Ah, to witness pretty things. The gratitude.

On their drive back to Miami, they passed Alligator Alcatraz. They could see the building from the road, could feel it, they said. And as they drove past it, a bus full of prisoners drove past them in the other direction, heading into the concentration camp.

Quintessential American Omelas. To enjoy this beautiful land, sea to shining sea, and to know that it was built upon centuries of terror, cruelty, and bloodshed.

What do we do with this information?

Well, I, like I said, try to find a space in the morning, before my day truly begins, in which I can escape. I bring up my oldest, greatest friend, Microsoft Word, and I fly away. I’m trying to read more in the evenings, too; that’s an escape. I listen to actual people on the radio instead of what a computer thinks I might want to listen to. And sometimes, on our morning walks, I let my dog Frodo off his leash in a small park by my home, and he runs around and around and around. And I just stand there, giving him treats every time he runs by.

I am fucking furious and exhausted by the feeling that people want me to believe life is about anything else.

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writing:

Yesterday, I turned in copyedits for my third novel. God, what a relief! I’d had terrible stress dreams about the copyedits several nights in a row. In practice, they’re never that bad. But in spirit, it always feels like I’ve already finished everything this book demands of me, but now it’s dragging me back into the swirling white bog of a Word doc I’ve been staring into for over a year. No Clippy to keep me company either :((((( I was particularly worried about these copyedits because this novel takes place in a weekend-long escape room. Time is of the essence, and a ticking clock kicks off each chapter. I thought the timeline would be in woeful need of repair, but it wasn’t actually that bad. I had to do some cinematic handwaving here and there—my protagonists have 72 hours, which is, apparently, about 12 hours more than they really need, but what can ya do. I believe it’s Batman Begins: There’s a bit where Rachel says good morning to Bruce Wayne, takes him on a brief drive through the city, and suddenly it’s nighttime. And of course, there’s no fuuucking way Ferris Bueller did all that in one day off. Just to name two examples off the top of my head. I always believe the character mechanics of the story are more important than the logistics.

Anyway, my timeline wasn’t too bad. Astute readers might quibble about one or two jumps, but I argue that the villain of the story steals a few hours from our heroes in one sequence, and they enter a wibbly-wobbly space-time doorway at one point, which nabs a couple hours as well. It all worked out.

Wait a minute, was that a spoiler I just wrote?? Sue me! The book doesn’t come out for another year, so if you remember this post by then, you deserve a little gold star. Personally, I have observed my brain actively rotting during the last few years, willingly forgetting spoilers left and right. Kind of a gift and definitely a curse.

So copyedits are done, woo! I’ve seen the interior designs for this novel as well, and it’s quite fun. This will be a departure from my usual work. It’s lighthearted, focused more on fun than terror, and very romantic.

I’m spending my mornings exploring a fantasy world that’s getting much bigger than I initially planned (oops). I am also sloooowly working on a project with Chris Panatier. I’m the one slowing us down, really. He’s a fast and brilliant writer. I’m takin weeks to get back to him on this.

I have a story for an anthology call due in May that’s starting to nibble at me, and I’m dragging my feet on two other novels that I just don’t have hard deadlines for, so what’s the point. I read somewhere that Douglas Adams used to avoid writing so hard, they had to lock him in his room so he could meet his deadline. But he’d just crawl out the window :’)

reading:

I have had so little time to read. In fact, the turning of this winter has marked a shift in my spirit overall, and how I spend my time. I go to bed at 10pm now, instead of my typically preferred midnight. I wake up at 7, and I am loath to admit that I think it’s high time (long past high time) to begin waking up an hour earlier so that I can write before work. When did I become this piece of shit? What fucking adult bullcrap is this? Waking up before dawn to write? What is fucking wrong with me? Little Sam would be so upset.

Anyway, I’ve started reading Mikayla Randolph’s Not Your Final Girl in the evenings. It’s a really fun and interesting, complex little thriller so far. I’m super compelled! I’ve also been cozying up to House of Harrow by Cassandra Celia. I find the world in that book very snuggly. I only read it on gloomy days. Odd to say that about a book that involves brutal child-eating, but ya know.

I am a big Agatha Christie fan. I know people disagree with some of her politics, but I find her place in the literary canon undeniable. I am in love with Hercule Poirot. Before bed, I am reading The Peril at End House and it’s Poirot at his sassy best. He literally says at one point, “No one can keep anything from Hercule Poirot!” I wish I was confident enough to speak in the third person more often!

My last before-bed book was The House with the Clock in its Walls by John Bellairs. I liked revisiting that one! That was a cozy world, too. I am inspired to sit by a fire and eat cookies and drink cider.

playing:

I downloaded Dispath after seeing months’ worth of memes about its cast of baddies. The notion of leading Aaron Paul through a series of romantic superhero encounters was very enticing. Did I play even a second of it? No. I retreated to the 2014 video game Watch Dogs (Ubisoft). What a satisfying gaming experience. Every sound cue, every gunshot, every driving mechanic is so satisfying. It’s also a big bang for your buck game. You can play twenty minutes of it, and guaranteed you’re gonna run, shoot, drive, all the good stuff. You play as a hacker, and the hacking mini-games are all simple and fun. It’s not a particularly deep game overall, and I find myself struggling to remember what’s going on in the story (I often go on my phone during the cutscenes, because I live in an ironic hell).

There’s something very cozy about forgetting the last decade ever happened. To wit:

watching:

Mom Rebelein has been a big fan of Big Bang Theory for years, so I’ve seen half-episodes here and there. I never felt particularly drawn to their little sitcom world. I wonder if maybe, when the show was on air, it seemed too simple for me. I was an English major, dammit; I read shit by Dosteovsky.

I got her the full series on Blu-ray for Christmas, because like many people, I regret the shift away from physical media, and I’m suddenly terrified that I relinquished control over my own content consumption like that. So we’ve been watching through the first season of Big Bang, and y’all, it is soooo nice. It makes me feel so calm. The last fifteen years never happened. They drink Sprite out of cans with the old logo. It’s beautiful. Yes, Sheldon gets on my nerves, and Leonard’s social faux-pas make me anxious. But I’m grateful to have this show in my life right now.

That’s what it’s all been for me lately, content-wise: Going back and forgetting the current time. My friend from Miami and I, we’ve been rewatching the 2007 ABC Family show Greek, about college kids navigating all the simple, angsty college stuff: relationships, homework, um…ya know, mostly, it’s just relationships. We get together regularly to watch things over Zoom together, and we’ve actually watched Greek together before (it took us four years). But nothing else quite scratched that itch, and they canceled Chucky, so come on.

Firefly has been my other escape this month, watching an episode here and there with my mom. And you know what I wanted to do the most this month? You know what cut through all my apathy? You know what drove me forward? The desire to rewatch fucking Serenity. I really wanted to get through the show to see the movie again. I wanted to see River Tam kicking fucking ass after getting her brain fucked by the fucking government, man. FUCK, I’m mad. I wanted to watch a disempowered illegal kick some fucking ass. I wanted to watch scream queen Sarah Paulson try to shoot herself in the dome before getting mauled to death. I wanted to see Captain Malcolm Reynolds use his experience and scars from leading the rebellion to save the day and expose the Alliance for the fucking scum they fucking are.

Unrelatedly, I caught a screening of The Ring (2002) at the Alamo Drafthouse in Yonkers last week. Gorgeous! Pretty much all movies deserve to be seen on the big screen with popcorn. I love that theaters near me have been hosting regular screenings of older films. The Regal anniversary screening of Lord of the Rings last month sincerely rewired my brain and activated me politically in a way I found deeply freeing.

I got home late from The Ring, and I stayed awake until 3 am, reading conspiracy theories about the Epstein files on my phone until my brain spun. As Mr. Universe says: You can’t stop the signal.

listening:

I’ve been finding great comfort in “Nirvana” by ELLIANA and “Ghost of Chicago” by Noah Floersch this week. I watched English Teacher on Hulu two times in one week last month. I loved their little world, I mourn the unresolved cliffhangers, and I keep “Nirvana” from the show’s first season soundtrack close to my heart.

Sometimes I use the eliptical in my home, and my dog curls up on the couch opposite. He naps like an adorable little bagel, and I march toward him endlessly, while Lady Gaga sings “You and I” in my earbuds. Lol whatever man, I love my dog!! I don’t care that that’s sappy!

I took a big break from my recent audiobook, Red Rising, this month. I was enjoying it up until our hero ascends from his Martian terraforming lower-class environs to the great golden society in the sky. He attends a brutal Golden school, and I found his interactions there…taxing in a way I guess I can’t engage with right now. I’m only saying all this in retrospect; I didn’t realize at the time why I was putting Pierce Brown away and opting instead to listen to love songs on my drives. I listen for love now, in all things.

I made a playlist for my vibe this month, and it has those above-mentioned songs on there, but it also has David Bowie wondering about life on Mars (Pierce Brown says it’s up there), MCR saying they’re not okay (same, dudes lol), and a few others.

That playlist is called *~deep inhale~* “UGGGHHHHH”.

doing:

Wow, this is the bit I think I’m the most excited to share! Check it out!

I’ve been shouting about this a lot on social media. We are hosting a full LIVE reading of my next novel, a book so fresh, it doesn’t even have an official title yet. With a ticket to ride the Publication Train in early 2027, this little novel is a romcom Goonies escape room thriller. It has puzzles, it has ghosts, it has love. What more could we ask for in these puzzling, haunting, and painful days? It also has a spotless timeline with no flaws whatsoever!

So I’ll be reading through the full book this next month from start to finish with the help of a FULL cast of actors. Attend all five evenings and get a copy of the book featuring deleted scenes and extra merch! Just make sure you bring your stamp card each time ;)

There’ll be a big recap of each previous evening, so don’t worry about missing an episode. We’ll getcha caught up.

I loved being a part of My Bloody Valentine this month, hosted by This Chapter Bookshop in Port Jervis. I met so many nice fans there, including one lady who says she paints while she listens to my books. I gotta see how those paintings balanced light and dark!

I’ll be at Saved by the Book on March 27th, so if you’re anywhere near Locust Grove, come say hi!

Lots of other events are coming up, so stay tuned.

Thank you all for the love this month, don’t let the scum keep ya down, and keep it sleazy :)