December 6th, 2005


My Autobiography Will Be Called Out Living Jesus

This is a neat photo, yeah? I took it at the Foo Fighters gig on Thursday at the Superdome. It was the first time I'd been anywhere near stadium rock before, and it came complete with a ridiculous laser show. The Foo Fighters aren't a huge thing for me, but as Grohl said during the gig, "If you like a bit of rock, you like a bit of the Foo Fighters," and that pretty much explains me. I also like the Kaiser Chiefs, who opened, but fuck me if the frontman wasn't a wanker and didn't annoy me greatly.

There were twenty thousand people at this gig, by all accounts. On the same day this blog kicked over twenty thousand unique hits for the year, with fifty thousand hits all up. I don't rightly know what that all means--it's just numbers--but considering my fiction mostly appears in books read by five people and this blog can do anywhere between fifty to a hundred unique hits a day, it does appear that this here has picked up a bit of its own audience and that's all right. It's a real small and tiny audience compared to others, but comparisons are a losers game, so who cares.


I imagine all of you are waiting for an explanation about last week.

I've considered just ignoring it. The whole shrug and off we go, back to business. Whatever business that is. But, that said, I've heard a few of the rumours going round, and was even told that maybe I was getting what I deserved, being that this is a mean blog that slaps around innocent people. That one was my favourite.* But since other people were also busy telling me what an honest, true living kind I am, who wouldn't do nothing without a good reason, I figure I owe at least some kind of explanation. We'll call what fellows a bit of honesty sprinkled with convenient absences, because I'm not going to explain it all, just the blog side of it.

Last weeks blog shut down was what we in the business refer to as 'self-destructive behaviour'. What business would that be, Ben? Well, that would be the business of clinical depression. Yes. I can see your faces now. He's playing the I'm-Depressed-Card-ohmyfuckinggod-he's-so-EMO-next-he'll-be-telling-us-about-the-neighbour-who touched-him-all-wrong-the-dead-parents-the-dog-that-never-loved-him-and-that-time-God-spoke-to-him-from-the-coffee-pot. Yeah, no. No, he won't. Look, I'm aware of the stupidity and the way people throw around this stuff to cover a lot of behaviour, but all I can say is it has never justified or excused anything I've done. It's not now. Likewise, none of you are learning any great secret about my life. Sure, I've not mentioned it here, but it's only because I don't make a big deal out of it in general cause I've got friends who have a lot more nastier, life fucking up mental illnesses going. I've got nothing to hide with mental illness--it doesn't define me, doesn't stop me from doing things, and I'm a long way out of the whole can't get out of the bed, can't function, what day is it, all that kind of shit stuff that depression before medication can get you. So in short: being depressed is such a small, pointless thing in my life that it's just not worth mentioning or thinking about for ninety nine percent of the time. Shit, you can even forget about it, and just take the pills in a habitual motion that your mind just blanks on, like taking a piss.

But, with that said, no matter how far you can get from the old behaviour, you can always go back to it. Hence last week's fucking up. Sure, you try not to end up doing that, and you develop mechanisms to deal with things early by watching out for the signs of a bit of strange behaviour, and the occasional bit of obsession. But sometimes being self aware isn't good enough, and when you throw in a bit of stress, a few non-pleasant situations around you, and another situation that drags itself out... and, well, it's all a bit like being an alcoholic who falls off the wagon. By the time you've straightened yourself out, you've made a bit of a mess, people have seen you doing shit you'd rather they didn't, and you owe some apologies. Me, I owe at least one apology, probably a couple more to other friends, and a few other things that probably just need time, assuming they're not broken. And if they're broken? Well, you just got to deal with that, accept the responsibility, blah blah, all that stuff that sticks in your throat and you try to fix anyhow.

So, last week: nothing but self-destructive behaviour. It has got absolutely nothing to do with this blog, nothing to do with people you know, nothing, nothing, nothing. It's just one of those fucked up situations that is a bit embarrassing, but can't be helped, so you just deal with the mess and move on, which is what I've been doing. I've been a bit quiet for it, and may be a bit quieter for a while longer. Blog is running, but this, coupled with deadlines, could mean some quiet spots. That's the way it is, really. I've also not been reading other blogs, or visiting boards or whatever. A bit of quiet helps you reassemble your head, as they say, so if I've missed anything you reckon I should have seen, just throw me an email.

At any rate, there you go. I'm sure that doesn't solve a thing for you, but it's all you're going to get.

* I've seen the nasty things people have said about me. Here's the answer: I don't care what people I don't know think about me. The blog is public and my opinions are opinions and some times I agree with them, sometimes I don't. I don't reckon, outside two incidents, I've been particularly harsh, but whatever. If you disagree, it's your right. I'd certainly never begin to tell you what you can and can't do with your opinion in relation to a public blog.

Still Referencing Jesus

From Blog in Space: At approximately 3:05 p.m. on the late afternoon of December 5, 2005 at North Latitude of 28* 23' 18" and West Longitude of 80* 36' 18" traveling at a direction of Azimuth 200 degrees at an elevation of 65 degrees on a 5945 MHz frequency, your message was beamed into deep space.

Ben: Yeah, that's what I need right now. First Contact cause the aliens got a message explaining that I was fucking up my life and they got curious. Lovely. I should just never have signed up this blog to be beamed into space--I knew it was a bad idea from the get go--

Imaginary Jesus: I know as well.

Ben: Jesus.

Imaginary Jesus: Imaginary Jesus.

Ben: Fuck me. This is just healthy, isn't it? I'm having conversations with a Jesus I can't even pretend is real. Fucking lovely. Man, if you had been tangible, like a bit of toast or something, I could have at least sold you on ebay to idiots.

Imaginary Jesus: Sorry. You know what I represent, don't you?

Ben: That my blog's psychically fragmented and the aliens can't be far behind?

Imaginary Jesus: They're bringing porn.

Ben: Great. Imaginary Jesus and some free loading aliens with their alien porn.

Imaginary Jesus: Good times ahead, yes?