C.A. Hall's Blog, page 13

Put a Gun to Your Head

Some days you just have to hold yourself hostage. You've got to force yourself to do things that you don't want to. If you want anything that's worth a damn then you've got to push yourself in moments of misery: through laziness, tears and even through snotty noses, whining and excuses. You've got to shit yourself with fear, because the moment that something becomes difficult or nearly impossible is the moment that it becomes most important.

Greatness is achieved through great effort. Risk is...

When I Wander

Somedays, you just wake up and your brain doesn't want to work. What do you do on days like this? No, seriously, I'm asking. What doyoudo?

I go for a walk. Sometimes the air and the exercise is enough to stimulate this old tired machine inside of my head. I'm sure that there are a lot of physiological reasons why they say that the brain lights up in MRI's after a short walk. Likely related to your heart pumping more blood or even related the release of oxytocin or some other mundane miracle,...

Discipline

I'm hungover. Too many beers and shots at the Strata show last night. This is exactly the same brain dead feeling from my twenties that I was talking about in last week's blog. It feels like I took a twenty minute beating from a Styrofoam cooler and then mainlined an Advil. Ten years ago I'd still be in bed clutching a pillow like a frail-framed girlfriend and waiting for the sun to go down, but I don't make allowances for this shit any more. Hungover or not, you guys are getting a blog. I to...

Wasting Creativity

Most of the memories of my twenties involve travel: going to a job I hated, going home from a job I hated, going to a bar, going home from a bar (when I went home). A good portion of my twenties also involved sleeping in places other than my bed; place like day-time grass in the park, parked cars, couches, floors and the beds of strangers. My twenties were my great wasteland and what was wasted (besides me) was a shit load of creative time.

I think I always knew what kind of person I wanted to...

What Are You Waiting For?

People are always telling ideas that they have. Some are pure brilliance, some are workable and some are just shit. Sometimes they come in four packs like wine coolers and before you you find yourself at the kitchen sink coughing up stomach bile or passed out from a diabetic coma, the ideas are gone. Someone has wiped them across their puke rinsed lip and tossed the in the kitchen trash. I can count on my knuckles the number of people who did anything with the ideas that they had.

When I think...

The Grim Reader

Last night I was watching Criminal Minds on Netflix. If you know me, then you know this isn't too odd. I love crime shows. I'll watch even the shittiest ones. It might sound scary but profilers and serial killers think a lot like writers. We're all just a little bit like Colin Wilson's "outsider", lost in observations and obsessions.

Anyhow, on Criminal Minds there's a character called Dr. Spencer Reid, a supposed 24 year old genius who can read 1200 words a minute. Think about that for a sec...

Oh Captain, My Captain

There seems little else worth writing about other than Robin Williams. I've just gone on a long walk, listening to his stand-up; allowing him to make me laugh when he has made so goddamned sad. On the internet, some people are already saying that they've grown tired of the subject of his death. There have been too many photos of his face; too many stories about how amazing he was. Is that really what we have become? Overstimulated ogres that find two days of tribute for the life a human being...

This. Right Now. Here.

Wednesday is a strange day to face death and the end of the world. I've rolled off of the couch onto the floor and now I'm laying on the carpet reading a book. The carpet is my last resort and I end up spending most days here because of my back. It's a frightening thing to know that at certain age your back just becomes an issue. Regardless of good posture and lack of injury, backs just get old and they age us along with them.

For someone like me, who spends his days reading, writing and drawi...

How to Unfollow Friends and Influence Yourself

1987. A new city. A new school. Two moves in two years.

I was ten and though I don’t often delve into the past, this year would arc the trajectory of my life. It was, in its tragic way, much like falling down a hill which was higher than expected. It seems strange to imagine that the events of childhood can extend invisibly over twenty years into the future. And thought the events seem common place and perhaps even cliched, it’s impossible to omit them without negating the lessons that I am, j...

The Illusion of Organization

I live in a perfect world. I live in a world that looks like a Jacque Fresco fantasy. Everything around me is just as it should be. My house is spacious, sleek, and modern with a touch of rustic charm. Photos of my rooms fill home decor boards across the entirety of Pinterest. My desk is never cluttered, my closet holds just the right amount of clothes, there's not a single wire visible anywhere, the furniture is feng shuiand everything is in the most optimal place. It's a beautiful world wh...