dream log, observations, reflections, (hardly workin')

I had a dream.
Or a hallucinatory memory.
I was feeling odd.
I spat into the sink, to try to clear my throat.
I noticed some blood in my spit.
I spat again, this time more red.
Soon the bottom of the sink was entirely red with blood.
Then, as oddly as the dream began, it ends.

This reminds me of a dream I had years ago.
Same bathroom, some area of my body giving me trouble, meaning my throat.
Different trouble, but onset by the same thing; trying to clear my throat, to breathe more easily.

***

I saw a very small bug yesterday.
At first, I thought it was a tobacco flake, moved by air turbulence.
Then I noticed that the air wasn't moving, and that none of the other tobacco flakes were either. So I watched it for a short while, marvelling at its size. I could not distinguish any features on it; no legs, no head, no antennae. As one that does not like bugs, I found this somewhat alarming; a bug so small that it is indistinguishable as anything animate when not in motion. It could have been a grain of salt, a food particle, a piece of ash or dandruff. I shook it off and continued on my way. What else could I do?

This is not the first time I have discovered bugs so small that I found them them disturbing. I remember discovering bugs along the edge of the bathtub; they looked more like living hairs. Very tiny, basically a straight line that would wiggle around and propel itself along the surface of the tub's edge. I brought my brother in as a witness for these critters, and he was able to see them, to my relief.

I know, this sounds like a hallucination, that's why it was a relief someone else could see them. I did not have the sensation that these bugs were on me at all, let alone 'crawling under my skin'. As I understand it, some cheese is covered with bug if you look very closely. Are these an intermediate level between microscopic life and insects? Bugs and germs? Colony and individual life form? Interesting.

Bugs do often operate as a collective, somewhat like a bacterial colony or growth of mold. Ants, bees, termites, et cetera. Then you get your beetles, your houseflies, your grass hoppers, your more specialized life forms that tend to operate solo for a large part of their life. Is this a matter of evolution? The loss of hive-mind? The specialization of diet and habits? Are bugs the link between bacteria and, ummmm, wait a second, what about plants? Separate evolutionary line? Square cells and round cells? What about triangular(or three dimensionally pyramidal) cells?

***

I'm feeling anxious, sketched out, whatever you want to call it.
I'm wondering now, is it because of been drinking pretty much nightly for a week or two now? Or the diphenhydramine I've been taking again almost nightly, but for upwards of six months now? I am anticipating some motion sickness as I withdraw. I'm also wondering if my drinking is taking a toll on my sensitive ileum. Crohn's eh, or so they say. I often wonder if that and IBS are like a product of our artificialized diets. I have recently seen something were one or both conditions responded well to a parasite therapy. The subjects were given a large drink with many thousands of worm eggs in them, worms that would not reproduce in the body, just latch on, live for a few months, and eventually pass harmlessly through the bowels. The line of thinking behind this treatment, is that in a natural setting, our food would inevitably be contaminated with parasites. So, by taking the parasites out of our diet, we have left our immune system with very little to do digestively. So, our immune system, out of boredom or over-evolution, ends up attacking our healthy digestive tract. So, by reintroducing the parasites, you give the immune system a target. Impressive results thus far, though the thought of ingesting parasite eggs is a little disgusting.

Damn, the B12 crunch is coming. Cranked anxiety. Possibly due to coffee. Too quiet now, each sound too significant. My throat is dry, is it from dehydration or too much smoking? Both probably. My thoughts turn now to pcp, the time spent doing it, and the friends lost since. RIP namesake. That's no answer. Why do I even go there? To remind myself of what I've learned? To scare myself? To reaffirm my growth? Who knows.

Back to free will. Did I direct my thoughts there, or were they presented to me that way? I guess it doesn't matter; for all intents and purposes, we seem to have free will. So no luck blaming fate for my mistakes. Have I depleted my myelin sheath? Oh god, multiple sclerosis as a result of excessive drug use. Let's hope not.

Now I think of friend's before who lived alone and were always ready to party. Lots of fun to visit, but would I want to live there? I'm just not sure. I miss the easy days of university residence. When all I had to worry about was class and fun. Who had the best price on ritalin, you had the best weed. Was there any acid around. Questions that are fun to answer.

MTV Downtown was an awesome cartoon. I watched two episodes yesterday, I think I'll watch the rest this weekend. I've seen them all before of course, but the older I get, the more meaning I find in them. Sometimes even just a change in meaning. The geeks, they remind me of old RPG friends. AD&D, Rifts and Shadowrun were the favourites. With rifts, we spent more time reading source books than we ever did playing. It's like mind exercise I guess. Shadowrun, the tech was so awesome, separate specializations for Riggers and Deckers, so cool. Not to mention essence cost, cyberware vs. bioware, karma, and the awakening, the background concept for shadowrun.

This is two days this week now that I've spent most of my work shift writing in the background between calls. Should I buy some 50% vodka and soak some stems in it to make some green dragon? Should I just buy more weed? More booze? I'll just hold on to my cash for now, I'll try and wait until I see a good spending opportunity.

Quitting time approaches. I will gather my thoughts, and gather my things. No way to end this post smoothly. So...

morning lite

I should be hung over.
I drank enough last night.
Maybe it's because I drank to give my lungs a break.
So my body, being thankful for my not smoking tons of yetis, alleviated my stomach problems, or at least temporarily blocked the signals, to reward my virtuous drunkenness.

Wishful thinking perhaps, but reflective of reality none-the-less.

And with sobriety, comes guilt at your absence. Whether this is caused by genuine karmic intuitions of misfortune, or a vitamin B12 deficiency, I do not know for certain. I know it comes to the same thing; time spent down on yourself.

Now I turn to facebook, and the mysterious friend requests from strangers. We have many friends in common, and they've added me as well, yet, I cannot remember them. They have similar names to people I know, and some of them appear to be attractive women, who believe they know me, and yet I cannot remember them? This is strange.

I remember something about the CIA data-miners providing funding for aspects of facebook, and I wonder now, are these strange individuals dummy files setup to gather information? Are they posing as forgotten old friends? What do they hope to learn?

I dreamed a few dreams last night, strange considering. I seldom wake up from drunk-sleep and remember dreams. I remember an old friends, no longer a friend. We were speaking in a polite manner. I remember a crowd. Weaving through it. Was it an outdoor concert perhaps?

From another night, I remember a family from my hometown, all gathered together in some sort of celebration. I remember having a difficult time determining which of the sisters had been in my class, opting to look for recognition in their faces. I had the distinct impression that this was yet to happen. Those I could see appeared to be dressed at least semi-formally.

Ok, now my stomach is starting to hurt. I just expectorated some cigarette tar, maybe that's it. My body is like, ok, if they lungs are going to hurt, we have to reroute power from the stomach block. Either that, or the coffee is sitting heavy on the cereal.

Am I just getting warm with this toque on? Making me mini-heat-stroke? Doubtful. Rambling though. What person other than me would care to read this? Admit it, if you aren't me, and you are reading this, aren't you asking yourself 'why am I reading this?'. I'm sorry, I'll try and make this more interesting again.

Should I embrace the drink, as it is a socially acceptable addiction, at least in part? Not that I am shunned for my marijuana consumption, though a few do disapprove. It's more like, because my father had his problems with the bottle, I'm afraid I'll get stuck in that too. So when I do drink, I am worried and guilty, making the drinking less fun, more stressful. So I drink more, to alleviate the stress, bringing me closer to that which I fear, being a full blown junky. I guess the term is drunk when you mean alcohol. Drunky.

Well, that's one thing I fear, but I'm not about to reveal all my secrets.

I've been thinking about a trip I had one time. I was high on a little pcp, and a lot of acid. I listened to music so loud, I lost contact with my body. All my attention was on the incoming audio signal. It bled through into my vision and sense of touch. As though all my cells are but floating on the surface of reality, which in turn is being rocked by the music. The music carries me through reality. It's hard to describe.

Almost like I backed my awareness up into my head, so all I was aware of was the music. What a good time that was. I literally had to check to see if I had ejaculated(I hadn't, but would not have been surprised if I had). I almost lost contact with my body another time on salvia. I was a tube, except for the back of my head, which I could still feel pressing hard into the floor. I could see the static from my headphones spiralling out from both sides in front of me, like a double helix.

It scared me, so I pretty much jumped up back into three dimensions. I don't know why, but I want to try and experience being music again. But I am afraid of bad-tripping. When I was drunk, I said for sure it is worth the risk to dose and try for a great buzz. But in the sober light of day, I just don't know if it's worth the risk.

So now that my shift is almost over, I'm thinking about tomorrow and payday. What should I do with my extra cash? Lots of alcohol? Guitar supplies? Try and find some pills? Finally get that prescription cough syrup? Damn intoxicants, so fun, but so shameful. Maybe just buy a lot of weed and smokes so I don't run out.

Now this post is getting shitty again, so I'll wrap it up here. May random find you well.\m/

Piece of Fiction(Part 3)

He woke up.
Armless.
Relief floods him.

Already his memory was fading, just like a dream.
Wasn't it a dream? He woke up at the end, so it must have been he thought.

Still, he remembered so much.
He had somehow been able to, manipulate reality, or at least dream reality, with his thoughts. But somehow, it had all gone to shit. Was there a lesson he was supposed to retain? Something about balance? Or like, curiosity killed the cat? That doesn't sound right.

The ending! The submission? Is that it? Giving up, and just....

...wishing you could take it back?

Then, is it the submission at all, or willing the fuck-up to the realm of dreams? He felt sick just entertaining the thought. Had it all been real? Had he just hit the undo button back to normalcy? Why then, could he still remember? Why didn't the undo take? He felt a tingle where his arm used to be. The phantom limb sensations.

"Oh god! What have I done!"

An unseen smile silently laughs. It wordlessly tells him; "You know what you've done".

drunk-talk

I feel so full of potential
I'm afraid to admit it
But I'm some pretty hot-shit

It's like, I can feel there is something within me
Some greatness, I don't know yet if it's a song or a story,
or just some deed

But I feel it.

I get down on myself, because I seem to be at a standstill.
Not advancing toward my higher purpose, possibly procreation.
Who knows, maybe it's an assassination.

Here I write
And I hope someday I might
write something worth reading
and even verbally repeating

something that rings true
and makes you feel alive
something that gives insight
a reason to survive

I dig deep and keep on moving
ever forward through the storm
to find and light the future's path
elevating the norm

my self i use and sacrifice
i am such a useful device
the time I'm given, I must use well
to hold at bay, the horrors of hell

the sentry and me, and also the void

the sentry and the void
a perfect analogy
for the anamnesis I have come to know

I reinstate the amnesia
but it doesn't take,
for me at least

I can still remember
fleeting thought it may be
my reflection upon the abyss

my infinite regression
a dangerous obsession
the search for truth is tearing me apart

the serum swallowed
the placebo effect
convince myself that I'm wrong
so we all can go on

i must be crazy
but aren't genius and insanity
two sides of the same coin?

can I use and not abuse this knowledge?
do I even have a will of my own?
Or am I pre-programmed and executing as designed.

ignore the possible implications
continue as you were
reality is real
for everyone

even me