Posts Tagged ‘Mania’

I enjoy philosophical riddles, and I spend far too less time working on them. The reasons do not matter. I am confronted with one riddle in particular day in and day out… Why have I not or cannot kill myself?

I have gone through my fair share of suffering, and for most of my life battled with the will and desire to no longer be alive. I have many times and still want to die. I do not want to exist. So why at this moment with how I feel and have felt I must ask myself. Why am I breathing and writing this?

This has been a philosophical puzzle that has plagued and tortured me. I have come up with many theories, reasons, and excuses for why I have not.

No point in running the list. What I came up with and I feel so blind for not figuring this out. Its our primal directive to survive. Its ingrained within us and drives everything. This directive is so powerful that I cannot overcome or find the courage to end my suffering.

To me logic and reason would dictate that ending suffering is the only thing that makes sense. Every other theory I have ever had about why I am still alive stems from this roadblock.

How can this override clear logic and reason of not wanting to suffer? How can this seed allow us to self deceive ourselves against the logical course of action. How and at what point can this will be broken down?

My intended focus this week was to break down, analyze, and apply my methodology to three single events with the intended outcome of making the correct choice. Do I stay or do I go? I have repeatedly replayed the same haunting moment of seeing my son still and quiet on his bike as he watched me get in the car to go to work. In that moment I could see in his eyes the internal conflict between acceptance and denial that his dad is slipping away. I could see and understand all too well the sadness he was trying so bravely to hide.

It is difficult for me to release my sadness and sorrow through the shedding of tears. The only time the outside world can see what I try so hard to hide, is when I cannot hold back my tears. At that moment, just as in this moment writing about it I cannot stop the tears. Many people say that crying is supposed to be this wonderful release of pent up emotions. It’s not like that for me. Tears feel like razor blades running down my face, slicing through self-denial and exposing my weakness and vulnerability. Regardless of how many times I have been told I am selfish and only think of myself, at the end of the day my meaning in life, and my purpose is to not break his heart. I am well aware I will never win the father of the year award. To be honest with you I don’t even know if I’m a good father. Despite what I am told I know I have always tried to be the best dad I could be.

After the series of events that took place yesterday, or would it be considered today? I haven’t slept for days so time holds no logical meaning. After said events the only answer to my opening question; is to go. There are only so many pieces someone can be broken into before they are unable to be put back together. I now need to come to terms with the sobering reality that I will become in my own eyes everything I ever swore I wouldn’t. I will become my fathers son. I am desperately seeking, yet fear I will be unable to live with the guilt, or forgive myself.

Children are not stone, nor are they steel. They are dirt and clay, molded by the hands of experience. There is no way to reconcile the loss of my son’s happiness and hope due to the harsh reality of my life, which I have viciously infected upon my family. Despite my frequent mental transformations I made the decision to get married and have children; in that single moment I destroyed their lives. I suppose I was caught up in the perceived human need for significance, by my own sense of insecurity. Here is where I cannot deny my selfishness. Broken dolls are meant to walk alone.

In moments like this I want to hide within the minds of Soren Kierkegaard and Albert Camus covering myself in the blanket of Absurdism. Believing all struggles for life is for nothing. There is only birth and death, and everything in between is our feeble attempt to find meaning and purpose. This concept is wonderful, but in the back of my mind I’m burdened with this question. What if birth and death were only two points, that they were inconsequential compared to what happens between them?

“The mere attempt to examine my own confusion would consume volumes.”
James Agee

I wonder if you were to crack open my skull and dissected my mind what you would find. My mind is a cancer on my soul and rarely makes sense to me. My mind 89% of the time is on hyper drive and I am bombarded with so many thoughts and ideas. These thoughts come across as voices in my head, or over powering thoughts which continue to repeat themselves over and over again until the voices and thoughts are screaming at me. It is hard to be present with the outside world when I am trapped within my own mind. This chaos in my mind causes a cloud of confusion often time leading me to become dazed, confused, disorientate, and delusional.

I have found that writing at least eases some of the pressure on my brain. The problem is I cannot capture every thought or idea. I may come up with an idea for an entire novel in my mind. I know all the characters the plot beginning middle and end. This will swirl around bombarding my mind, and then poof just like that it is gone. No matter how hard I try to remember the details I cannot remember a thing. My mom for Christmas last year got me a recording device so I can just turn it on and talk it out, but sadly it is broken. I feel cheated because I wonder how many great ideas are lost amidst the screaming and confusion.  

I am not sure how the normal mind works, let alone my own twisted mind but solving this puzzle would be a great accomplishment. I wish there was a device I could hook up to my head which constantly grabbed every idea and thought and nicely file it so I could go back for later review. I cannot even imagine the brilliant books I could write, compose some breathtaking poetry, write interesting blog posts, and create delightful “Dylan Thomas” books. My problem is I cannot type or write how fast my brain works, so many things are lost. If this machine existed I would be very pleased. This contraption could not only pull my thoughts, but could also file my feelings nice and tidy. I would then be able to manage my emotions more effectively.

This machine would come in perfectly for my current writers block. I still have all this shit going on in my head, but it is trapped. I need to strain to grab a hold of these ideas and even then they come out jumbled and incoherent. I have been unable to produce quality work in almost three weeks now. My thoughts and ideas are unsystematic and scattered. My mind just wants to shut down, stare off into nothing, and listen to music. It has been getting harder and harder to write, and for me this is a huge deal. I suppose all I can do is keep plugging away at posts until my block is lifted. It upsets me that I am not able to capture everything going on in my head right now, because I know it would make for good reading.  

I think like this quote says the attempt to understand my confusion would create volumes upon volumes of work. Even if I had everything recorded and in its proper place I would still end up confusing myself because the daunting task of trying to put everything together would prove to be to overwhelming. My mind is so complex and multi-layered I do not think even the strongest device could extract everything and put it into order. For example while I am writing this I am bombarded with this constant thought of hiding in an igloo, the urge to draw penises on my wall, the need to somehow create a wall mounting to display all my pens, what if California falls into the ocean, who is controlling the white noise which is frying my brain, and why they came up with the name fruit bats. This was just the first six thoughts which came to my head. This is but a grain of sand in the overall workings of my mind.

I try and cope with this by trying to drown out the thoughts and voices with music. I hate silence it is my archenemy. If I am sitting in silence I am filled with a sense of panic because now all I have are my thoughts. My mind quickly spirals out of control, and I am led down the rabbit hole so to speak. This is why at work my music is always on to drown out my mind. When it is time to write I lift my hand in the air and try to catch any idea and just try to hold onto it long enough to make sense. The posts you see on this blog are all just random thoughts from a random mind.

“Sometimes the glue that binds us together can be the same glue that rips us apart.”

Tim Lundmark

This thought came to my head this morning while I was in a deep reflection on my current mental status. February begins tomorrow and this just happens to be the most evil month. This has never been a very good month for me in the past and is usually when my winter cycle comes to a damaging head. I am not sure why this is the case. My “cycles” can be rather predictable. I tend to cycle with every changing of the seasons like clock work. Spring and summer bring mania psychosis, while fall and winter deliver depressive psychosis. This usually doesn’t just hit right away it is a gradual fall from grace, usually two to three months in the making. When I think about this it makes me sad because this means I am only “normal” one maybe two months a year if I am lucky.

The way my mind works is there are times when it is clear and I am high functioning (the one or two months.) When I hit this point I am at my greatest. I am present in the moment and I am receptive and give out understanding and love. It is during this period I am unable to write poetry, but I am able to write my “Dylan Thomas” books. In time my mind slowly starts to worsen, and as time progresses I start to fall apart. When a piece of my sanity falls off I quickly grab it; throw some glue on and stick it back into place. This is fine and I am sure perfectly normal, but it seems as time passes more and more pieces fall off each day, to where I spend all my psychological energy just picking up the pieces and trying to put it all back together. The end result is I run out of glue giving me no means to put the pieces back together.

It has been a really tough go as of late, but I feel lucky I was able to have a relaxing weekend. I had to take Friday off because my son didn’t have daycare, so I ended up having a three day weekend. Although this weekend was relaxing I still wish I had more time off, because I don’t feel ready to jump back into the daily grind. I am not prepared for this; I am having trouble gluing myself back together. I worry I will not be able to do this. I have thought about talking to my boss about what is going on. I need the comfort of knowing that if I end up in the hospital I will not lose my job.

It felt good this weekend because I relieved much of the pressure inside of me by just going with things. I just went with it, and this may have been a mistake. When I talked with my mother and sister they thought I was on drugs. I think this is just further evidence I shouldn’t really share the truth with what is really going on. My symptoms are still pretty intense and I feel myself sliding further away from sanity. I wish I could log on here and just go off about all the things I am feeling and thinking, but my family does not think this is the appropriate forum for such things, yet It felt good posting my last two pieces. I have received many responses from people who have felt or who are going through something similar to what I am dealing with. There encouraging words and their ability to relate to my plight made me feel a bit better about things. It felt good knowing I could put my words out there like that and have an emotional impact on another person. This simple thing is what motivated me to become a writer in the first place, so this is awesome.     

I am so embarrassed with what is really going on in my head I do not feel I would be met well if I went into everything that was going on inside of me. I feel if I were to just jump on here and free write it may end up making me feel a little bit better, but then everything that I am will be exposed. It is this exposure I am afraid of. It is the rejection I am afraid of. No one is ready for what is going on. I feel if I were to just grab somebody on the streets and put my mind inside of theirs they would kill themselves in less than a week. They wouldn’t be able to deal with it. I suppose like anything else you just get used to it, but I am sick of being used to it. I am so tired of the pretending. What was great about this weekend was I let go and stopped pretending.

I realized after looking over some of my comments I received that I have picked up many Christian readers. I am so appreciative of their readership. I enjoyed reading their comments and wondered if my exposure as of late means something or not. I am afraid once I do a piece which is anti-religious I will piss them all off, and lose their readership. I feel I am at a crucial point in my spiritual journey, and I do not want to hold back my feelings on this topic. If the God of the Bible exists I need to work through my anger towards him, but at the same time I have found that Taoism is giving me a level of spiritual peace. Needless to say I am concerned about this.

I only have thirteen hours left to finish my book “Trapped Within My Illness.” I have to have the manuscript submitted by the end of today to meet their open submission period. I am so excited about this project and I really want to get it out there, but their response time is six months and I am unsure if I want to wait that long just to get the rejection letter. I want to put it out there, but wonder what the point is in that. I am embarrassed to say I have sold zero copies of “Yin” and “Yang.” I really think this one is better than the last three that I wrote. I blame my lack of sales on the fact I haven’t done any readings, if I submit it to this publisher I can’t do any readings until after I get the rejection letter because then I can just self publish.  

To sum the whole thing up I am just not ready for today. I am not ready for tomorrow and the start of February. I am working hard to glue my mind back together. My symptoms are getting worse, and although it was liberating to just let loose I still have other things going on which I am embarrassed to talk about. I just hope I make it through this month. I really just need this to stop because it is getting to the point where I just can’t fight it anymore.

Do you remember the feeling you had after watching movies such as “Shutter Island,” “The Sixth Sense, or “The Others?” This feeling where the whole story just seems to flip on you, where everything that was is now wasn’t. These types of twists are mind fucking adventures, and I love them. I remember thinking to myself after watching “Shutter Island” that nothing of this magnitude could ever happen to me… I was wrong.

I just discovered the greatest mind fuck of my life. My wife made a comment on a post I did last week where I said I was basically kicked out of Crown College. My wife sent me an e-mail and said I was never kicked out of that school so why would I say that? I sent her an e-mail back going over the situation which occurred and questioned her memories of this situation. She then informed me I dropped out because my mental status had worsened to the most dangerous of levels. I immediately told her to stop messing with me, and relayed that this is not a funny joke. She proceeds to tell me she is not joking, and is indeed very serious. This was my Shutter Island moment.

I am really bent by this because I have no recollection of what she is talking about. I literally have no memories of this scenario she had laid out, and what’s worse is my reality which once was is now wasn’t. One of my symptoms of my mental illness is memory loss and or confusion with my thoughts. My thoughts can get jumbled and I will interpret what I hear or see differently than most. I know I have had issues in the past where the combination of dreams, media, and real life get melded together to form an altered reality. I am now in a state of what is, and what is not. This causes me to blur these alternate realities together where I cannot tell one from the other. Perhaps I was in such a state and took memories from my dreams and supplanted them into what I now know as reality. This is really twisting me up inside because this calls to question how much of my memories are even real memories, or which ones were supplanted into my mind. I then need to question the reality I am in at this moment while I am writing this. Is this what is, or is it what is not? Is what I remembered from yesterday what is, or what wasn’t?  

I try not to think of this very often because frankly it is mind numbing. I enjoy this topic on a philosophical level, just not on a personal one. It is as if I am looking at hundreds of puzzle pieces from many different puzzles mixed together. I then have to somehow put these pieces together to form one puzzle. This is hard to explain if you have never experienced it or lived with someone who has, but it’s almost like déjà vu, but what you think you have already done before, really happened on television, in a movie, a dream, or something that has happened to someone else. It is almost as if this cross fires my brain into creating something that is not.

I have had this fractured memory in my head for seven years. This means for the last seven years I have been living a lie. I want to sit down with everyone who is close to me and unload my memories to see what is and what isn’t. I am haunted by not knowing my true reality. I wish I knew the exact reasons my mind created this alternate reality in my head, and was strong enough to have me forget months of my life. I was in a panic and called my therapist a few times to get some advice on this. She finally called me back on Friday to council me. I laid out the situation to her, and explained I was in a panic not knowing what is real and what isn’t. She told me this scenario was normal for people who reach intense mental breakdowns, and often causes the subject to create false memories.

I felt better after the call to at least know what I was experiencing was normal on a mental illness level. I am still left wondering what reality is, and which other of my memories are not real. I suppose I will only be able to find the right pieces of the puzzle by checking with those who are close to me regarding memories I have. This still does not cure the way I shape reality. I think what it comes down to is I will always be in a state of what is not, but I suppose since this is reality to me, then what is real is; so I shouldn’t worry about it.

I work as the Staffing Coordinator at a nursing home in Minnesota. One of my primary goals is to make sure the facility is staffed at all times; I also handle the schedules among other things. My days are spent doing the same routine over and over again. If I am derailed from my routine I become anxious and confused. Now obviously there are minor interruptions, but I have grown accustom to these and they rarely derail me, but for the most part I need my routine to function. On every other Monday I need to do payroll for the last two weeks. I do this for around seventy people in the nursing department, and about twenty-five lodge workers. This is the first thing I do on these Mondays, but yesterday decided to throw me a curveball. I sat at my desk and started to do payroll. I noticed everything was messed up; our time clock broke on Thursday. Apparently the time clock did not record any punches from the 30th to the 2nd. My boss instructed me to exit this program so they can try and fix it. This was devastating to me.

I was so lost and I was doing a little here and a little there, but not being able to stay focused on one single task. I was so scattered brain; causing everything to fall apart around me. I was having anxiety attacks all day, which some turned to pure panic. I was still able to get work done but I was in a haze of confusion. I struggled to do my other Monday tasks, but it was difficult since I was doing it at a different time, and the knowledge of not being able to do my first task. One of the things I do at the end of the day is deliver the staffing book along with the schedules for the next day to each floor. These schedules are crucial to the function of the nursing department. Without these schedules the place would erupt into chaos and order would break down. Nobody would know which floor or unit they were on. If this was left for the twenty-seven employees to try and figure out where they are supposed to be it would be random chaos. You can almost guess where this is going.

I am getting ready to wind down for the day. My routine is taking two of my sedatives at 7:00pm, and the remainder between 8-9pm. I took a double dose of my seven o’clock meds because I was all manic from my destroyed day. I started my nightly routine of trying to shut myself down. Now at 8:15 I take my next round of sedatives which include three separate meds. I must add I take these medications because I suffer from insomnia, and if you add in mania with insomnia it is very hard to shut myself down and go to sleep. So I am watching a movie and I am not feeling really tired and I am starting to panic around 9:30. I go upstairs and take another sedative to try and get me to sleep. It is now 10pm and I am just starting to fall asleep when my phone rings, and it is my work informing me there are no schedules in the staffing book for the next day. My office is locked, so I have no choice but to drive into work and get the schedules out.

I was really groggy and close to sleep. I noticed when I was talking to my wife my words were slurring. I live in Shakopee and work in Plymouth. It is a straight shot down 169 from my house to my work, but is a longer drive. It had snowed earlier so I was worried about the ice on the road. As I start driving I can tell I am really fucked up, and that this is going to be one hell of a journey. I was swerving all over the road and feared I would be pulled over. I am not aware of the laws, but I am sure if I got pulled over and told the cop I am driving on sedatives I would probably be arrested for a DUI. I know I would have never passed the field sobriety test. I at this point started praying and hoping I don’t crash or get pulled over.

One of the many side affects of taking all my medication is nausea. If I stay up to long after taking them I get really ill, so now I am driving not only fucked up out of my gourd, but I also feel like I am going to vomit. To make a long story short I made it to work stumbled to my office and up to the floors to deliver the schedules. At this point the nausea and grogginess has gotten much worse. I make it to my car and proceed to head home. It is snowing at this point, and I suffer from severe anxiety driving in adverse weather, so now I am sick, fucked up, and starting to suffer from a panic attack. I ended up driving around 40mph on a 65mph highway swerving from here to there. Obviously since I am writing this I made it home okay. I stumbled in the door holding back vomit and just struggling to get to bed. I think once I laid down I was out in two minutes. It was a scary and crazy experience, and looking back on it now I can chuckle to how close I was to either crashing or getting pulled over. Perhaps my prayers were answered; wouldn’t that be something.

****I need to add a side note to this post. I received a comment from Rambling asking why I didn’t have my wife drive me, and how I could have endangered the lives of another person. To be honest I was not even thinking about it. This makes me sound like a total douche. I got the call and ran out the door because I had no choice but to go. This of course does not excuse my stupidity, because I have a strict driving while intoxicated policy. If I have one drink I will not drive for the entire day. It is amazing how I did not even think about this.

God’s Little White Lie

Fall begins and everything dies

No more time to live a lie

If you think you can save me

With one last note or plea

You’d be wrong

I lack the crucial will to be strong

 

A teardrop may come from your eyes

But then you would be living a lie

As you exit the doors

You realized you just worshiped a whore

The last leaf falls from the tree

Desperately seeking the love of the three

 

Where I am no one can go

The Grim Reaper begins to row

I sought the chance to be free

Never again shall I touch the three

To escape from the pain

I gracefully opened my vein

 

Left to right

Within my sight would soon be light

Nothing came as I lay

It was at this point I began to pray

My body goes limp

There was no savior to lead me on this trip

Darkness is all this brought

No more pain and agony in my thoughts

 

Nothingness is what awaits me

No angles to set me free

Blood dripping from freshly cut veins

O’Lord release me from my pains

I reach up towards the heavens in the sky

At this point I realized it’s all a lie

By: Tim Lundmark

I started writing and never finished a post last week about how thankful I was for not being consumed by a deep depression for some time. I feel like it has been a lifetime since I ventured into the darkest regions of my shen. I should have knocked on wood, because since yesterday I have steadily crept into a downward spiral of darkness. I am trying my hardest to lighten the blow, and recover before it gets to bad. During this depression free time I have by no means been stable. My moods have been all over the place for a few months, but I have been void of any out of control manias or crippling depressions. The times I had hit a small mania or minor depression I was able to quickly rebound from it. I was considering myself lucky, until today. I do not know exactly what is wrong with me, but all I want to do is crawl into bed and cry.

I have been sitting here in my office trying my hardest to fight back the tears. I think this episode started when I was looking at a new picture of my youngest son on my desk. They did this new style at his school this year which I am really digging. I must say this is the best school picture I have ever gotten. I just got lost looking at his picture, when all of a sudden tears started welling up in my eyes. I was a bit overwhelmed by this since I am not one to cry. If I were to guess; I would say I only cry two to three times a year. I at first thought these were tears of joy, but then I was slapped with this gut wrenching sense of guilt. I started to look into myself to figure out why I am feeling so much remorse. I started to do some deep searching and came to the conclusion my guilt lies in my failures as a father.

I am by no means the worst father, but I can guarantee you I will never win father of the year. I have made many mistakes as a father, many of which I would sell my soul to take back. It is not like any of my mistakes have been ones of violence. I have been angry as hell at my kids, but would never harm them. The things I wish I could take back are the many small things that equal up to the big things. As I sit here reflecting, the only conclusion I come to is I have not been a good enough father. If anyone out there is a parent you can understand the tormenting feeling this reflection will cause. There is one thing in life you should not fail at, and that is being a good parent. I wonder if my kids were asked “do you have a good dad” would they answer yes without hesitation or would they need to think about it? I believe they would need to give that one a second thought.

I am trying to take inventory and convince myself I am a good father, this is becoming increasingly difficult. There may be a thing here or a thing there I do well as a parent, but I seem to fail everywhere in-between. I feel like I am not there enough for my children. It is so hard for me to just be in the moment and enjoy what I have. I am always lost somewhere inside my mind. I am either focusing on my writing, sucked into a down causing me to be emotionally unavailable, or I am consumed with distracting mania (my children’s favorite mood.) I feel like I do not give them the attention they deserve. I have cut the amount of time I spend writing by 75%, but still feel like I am a stranger to them. I feel like I have been in this cycle forever where I am only partially available. My mind is so scatter brained all the time it is hard for me to focus on things. I tend to get distracted off into so many different directions. I never feel like I am just right where my kids need me to be.

I am feeling such intense guilt over all the times I have yelled at them. There are so many better ways to speak to your children, and I take the cowards copout by reacting with the only emotion I feel comfortable expressing. Inside I am by no means an angry person. I am normally very Zen, but the minute I feel any negative emotion it comes out in anger. I cannot cope with these deep scars I have, and instead of feeling through it I lash out. I think this is a defense mechanism I developed long ago. I hate myself for not having the commonsense to just walk away and collect my thoughts. I know what it feels like to grow up with a yeller, and let me tell you it is horrible. The thought of me speaking to my children the way my step-father spoke to me makes me want to vomit. I try to make myself feel better by saying “all parents yell at their kids from time-to-time,” but this is not working. I feel like I have become the one man I despise more than anything, the man who traumatized me as a child. If I am doing the same things to my kids that he did to me, then reason would conclude I am him. I cannot deal with this reason. I cannot cope with this reality.

I just want my kids to be healthy and happy, and I worry they can’t be healthy with me around. I have failed them in every single way I possibly can. I am having a really hard time with this. I can almost feel the pain I have caused them, and it is ripping my insides apart. If they even remotely feel the way I think they feel then what the fuck am I? What have I become? I should have learned from the mistakes of my parents, and not followed in their footsteps, but somehow here I am. I try so hard to change these things, and I may be straight for a few days, or a few weeks, but then slip back into my old self. I hate my old self. I find it very hard to think of anything positive to say about my true self. I find it inconceivable my children love my true self. This actuality makes me cry in my office.

Today is the official release date of my new self-proclaimed masterpieces “Yin” & “Yang.” I was honestly worried these two books would never see the light of day. I wrote the last poem in “My Descent into Madness” in November of 2009. After I wrote “To My Children,” I was all of a sudden hit with severe writer’s block; no matter how hard I tried I could not write a single poetic line. I wondered if this was because I had said everything needing to be said. I was worried my voyage into becoming an established poet was simply not meant to be.

In January; I started this blog just to try and conquer my writers block. I figured if I did some free writing then eventually the creativity which helped me write “My Descent” would come back to me.  I wrote and I wrote about this and that, but still could not write a lick of poetry. It wasn’t until four months later I would finally find my voice again.

I remember it like it was yesterday. I was visiting my mom during Easter, when a quick goofy poem hit me like a lightning rod. I didn’t have anything to write with so I just burst out this quick four liner. My family started to laugh at its silliness. I quickly grabbed my poetry journal so I could write it down. As soon as I finished another one shot into my mind, then another one, and another one. Since then the creativity has just ruptured out of me like a broken dam. This has allowed me to finish two children’s books, two poetry books, and make progress on my other projects as well. I am excited about these two books because I have decided to take the indie route. Here are the book descriptions and links to where you can purchase them. You support is much appreciated.

YANG BOOK DESCRIPTION

My life can be depicted by the Taoist symbol of the Yin Yang. The yin yang shows how in life there is a perfect duality; within the bad lays the good. My life is tortured yet blessed, engulfed in chaos yet somehow there is perfect order. For good or bad I would not be the man I am today with out this internal struggle between mania and depression, thus the YIN and YANG.

Yang is the light and love in my life. Without the light within yang my life would be swallowed up in bleak darkness. Yang feels soft and comforting. The expressions will make you long for the one you love. Yang will resonate in your ears as if the words I have written have come from somewhere inside your own heart and made specifically for your personal Yang. The words you will read are tender, erotic, and devoted and they are what represent the Yang in me. For those fans that enjoyed the political poems in “My Descent into Madness” will enjoy the political musings in each edition.

http://www.lulu.com/product/paperback/yang/13001638

YIN BOOK DESCRIPTION

My life can be depicted by the Taoist symbol of the Yin Yang. The yin yang shows how in life there is a perfect duality; within the bad lays the good. My life is tortured yet blessed, engulfed in chaos yet somehow there is perfect order. For good or bad I would not be the man I am today without this internal struggle between mania and depression, thus the YIN and YANG. For those fans that enjoyed the political poems in “My Descent into Madness” will enjoy the political musings in each edition.

Yin is the darkness and torment of my life. Without the blackness within Yin my life would be consumed by self destructive mania. Yin is cold and aches to your very soul. Emotions feel bleak and horrific; it will take you to a dark place deep inside, and leave you yearning for salvation. The words you read will be twisted, poignant, and cruel but they are what represent the Yin in me. In this poetry chapbook you will encounter my internal struggle to keep my shen from experiencing the reapers cold hands. It is my written feelings which keeps me sane, and keeps me alive.

http://www.lulu.com/product/paperback/yin/13001645

Now that these are complete I am going to come up with a set list and start touring local coffee houses to help get my name out there. If you are local readers and want to know when and where I will be performing shoot me an e-mail. I will let you know the details. Please use the links on this post to get directed to my Lulu page. I will not have links on my website until tomorrow.

I have completed my next two poem books “Yin” and “Yang.” I am only waiting on the cover design from my illustrator. These two books represent the yin/yang duality going on inside of me. It represents my internal struggle of the dark and the light living inside of me. I am excited about these two poetry installments. “Yin” is filled with darker poems chronicling my darkest feelings. Yin is my essence which is currently destroying my life. “Yang” represents the light in my life. This light is the only string keeping me from spiraling into insanity. I have decided to use my political poems inside of these two books instead of creating a separate book.

I will be self publishing these two books and shop around to agents after my next installment of Dylan Thomas is available. I imagine if I present four separate books to agents I may have a better chance of being signed since I have four completed books. For those of you who enjoyed “My Descent into Madness” I can guarantee you will enjoy these next two installments. Personally I think these poems are much better than the poems in my first book. These poems are still written with intense no holding back emotions.

Once I publish these books, and make up business cards I will be prepared to start doing poetry readings around the city. If any of my Minnesota readers are interested come check me out. I will be posting dates and locations on my Facebook page. I will let everyone know when these two books are available for sale.