let's wrap this shit up

Alright, enough fucking whining.Wan-wan. No more.I'm gonna direct my thoughts to interesting insights.



Diets won't work ever. If your regular diet gets you in trouble health wise, and you change it temporarily, see a change, and then change your diet back, of course you're going to see the same problems.

***the next day***

I started this post, played mega man 9 until almost 5am, and then went to sleep. It was still waiting to be completed when I went to sign in for work this morning. It makes me wonder; it's an old game with sub-par graphics and basic controls, and it's awesome. I've beaten all the robot masters except for Plug Man now.

I just finished this call with some guy who was right paranoid. He was telling me about how the television is weaponized, and when it goes all digital, it's only a matter of time before they use some kind of seizure inducing signal to immobilize us while they take our guns. He told me that the CNN logo is designed to hypnotize. Now, this struck me as odd, because I have found myself suddenly aware of the fact I'm watching CNN, and have been for some time, and I am unable to recall anything I saw. I always assumed this was a stoner space-out phenomenon, nothing to be concerned with. Now, I wonder what subconscious programming I might be receiving.

Something about the spinning and the light, I'm going to have to look into this I think.

He got me talking crazy too, I even half-mentioned marijuana. I said something like, "Yeah man, that's why we need tetra-hydra-cannabin-brain-protection". Right not smooth at all. But, hearing someone else say the crazy shit you think, is always good. Like hearing someone read your writing aloud. It gives you a new perspective. What would I say if someone said this to me? If you ask yourself this before you speak, you'd probably talk less. I know I would.

Maybe it's just me, or maybe it's work-related as well. Because I spend so much time talking politely about shit I don't really care about, I get so tired of idle chit-chat, it just pisses me off. Someone might ask me a simple question and I'll give them a heavily sarcastic answer. Usually, I immediately feel bad, when I see the pain in their face. I try to back-pedal, but the damage is done. Think before you speak, isn't that like one of the first things they teach you once you can both think and speak? How do I keep forgetting this?

It's fucking Friday! Woohoo! No work for two days! Though, they'll probably call to see if I want to put in some extra hours. No thanks. Still, extra money would be nice. I finally got the books I had ordered like 8 weeks ago yesterday, 7-10 days my ass. I ordered 4 books, only 3 came in. The only book that didn't make it ,was Fight Club, which should have been the easiest to find. I try to support local businesses, but when they offer such poor customer service, at least to mangy looking stoners like myself, they don't make it easy. They over charged me about two dollars too, but it's a small price to pay.

***

Several hours later, I did it again. I left the post unfinished and have returned.

Jackie Brown is a good movie.

It's after midnight now. I'm still sober, but I feel anxious.
I have a six-pack here, but that's only a start. But by the time I'm finished with it, everything will be closed. Should I walk to the local bar, spend my last few dollars on a few more drinks before I hit the six-pack? No, I'd be too tired to finish my beer after all the walking. No point. I'm a little dizzy, and warm. I think I may be genuinely sick. I hope it's not Crohn's related. Then again, could be worse.

I'm probably going to drink the beer and play mega man 9 some more. Maybe take a flexeril if I'm feeling too sober. I still have benadryl lying around, but I don't want to even start with that right now. Hard enough dealing with cigarette and marijuana addiction, not to mention this blooming hereditary alcoholism.

I've been coughing quite uncomfortably as of late. Perhaps the yetis I smoke are the reason. See the video;


Now, I think the problem may be two-fold. One; the combination of marijuana and tobacco is more harmful than either apart, maybe. Marijuana, because THC is an expectorant, makes you cough. So, you are less likely to acquire residue in your lungs from smoking weed than your are from tobacco. Ever notice, that if you smoke cigarettes all day, then smoke some weed with no tobacco in it, you seem to cough up the tar from all the cigarettes from earlier in the day. Now, with the combination of the two, the weed is 'smoothed-out' by the tobacco, making it easier to hold in your toke for a long time without coughing. But, the drawback is, the tar and gunk stays in, at least for a little while.

The second drawback is the actual popping action of the smoking process. You see, the yeti uses a small puck of tobacco, ideally not burned, as a screen for your weed smoking. Because you are using a bong, once the marijuana on top is burned, you inhale sharply to pull the tobacco down the tube, into the water, extinguishing it, and simultaneously clearing the chamber without having to remove the bowl or uncover a 'choke hole'. This produces a variable head rush, depending on the smoker's tobacco use, skill at smoking yetis, and upkeep of materials.

If your tube gets all gunked up, which it will if you do any amount of yetis, it can be hard to pop the yeti. Sometimes, the tobacco will burn, and slide down the tube, not reaching the water, and just harshing the chamber instead of clearing it with fresh air. Sometimes the seal is no longer as tight as it was at the bottle, and this can cause you to frantically move the tube around, trying to get a good seal. This is quite common, as yetis must be done one at a time, and thus, the tube is frequently pulled in and out of the bottle, leading to wear on the seal.

The main reason for smoking yetis initially, was to prevent wasting weed. You only load one hit at a time, but you can have 15 or so ready to go quite easily if you get good at 'racking' them. The head rush element I suppose played a role, but as I started to smoke cigarettes as well as cannabis, yetis have lost their head rush effect. Over time though, I have become quite found of the ritual of preparation. The grinding of the weed, the cutting of the smoke, the changing of the water, the dabbing the tube into the weed, trying to maximize airflow while still packing in a lot of weed. The sound of the bubbles, getting slightly louder just before it's time to pop it. The rhythm of a succession of yetis done one after another, like meditation. I often find myself singing while I do yetis, or reaching for my guitar. So, the point is not necessarily to conserve weed anymore, but perhaps, to prolong the intake. To enjoy the consumption over a longer period of time.

Judging by the length of this yeti rant that I wrote up rather quickly, I've got a lot to say about my marijuana consumption, if I stop and think about it. I will see how this post reads in a few days, to see if this is something I should try and flesh out, or leave buried, at least for the time being. In the meantime, I will digest my thoughts, maybe hit the books a bit, for a little hard copy reading. May random find you well, and Marc man, don't forget to buy papers!

Bilous

I felt alright this morning. I figured I'd make it to work no troubles.
Ten minutes before my shift, I ended up puking bile.
But I made it in alright.

I was worried when I woke up. I knew I had been online, written to a friend's girlfriend.
Business as usual for me and the bottle. Nothing too offensive though, so all's well.

I had a strange dream last night. I was with a girl, a little younger than me. She was blonde and wearing a red dress. We were at my parent's house, and we kept moving from room to room because... I think I was leading her around. I wanted to be alone with her, but we kept being interrupted or I was distracted. I got the feeling she was uninterested. Eventually, after far too much relocation, we finally achieved some measure of privacy, and she promptly left.

I felt like I knew this girl, but couldn't identify her. My focus was too much on my environment, and not enough on my companion. Thus, I was inevitably left to face the environment alone.
Subtle, no? Pull your head out now.

I can almost smell the old PC Games. The sense of wonder. The new technology. The excitement. I miss the newness. Even the beauty. I remember Doom, and Dune 2, and even Commander Keen. Duke Nukem 3-D. Bio-Menace. Raptor; Call of Shadows, Solar Winds; The Escape, Monkey Island, Hugo's House of Horrors, One Must Fall 2097, MegaRace, Death Rally, Red Baron, Stellar 7, Stunts, Quest for Glory 4, Police Quest, King's Quest 5, Descent, X-Wing and TIE Fighter, Lemmings, The Incredible Machine, Prince of Persia, Jagged Alliance, XCom; Terror from the Deep, The Dig, Full Throttle, Under a Killing Moon, The Lost Vikings, Cannon Fodder, Postal, Grand Theft Auto, Ghostbusters, Warcraft, Star Craft, Civilization, Masters of Magic, Seven Cities of Gold, so many games. I've invested a lot of my time in games. Good memories. I just hope it wasn't a waste. Even table-top games, board games and card games.

I think it's almost time for a game of Risk.

Evade and avoid, don't think about that. What's health? Don't worry about the future. Maybe that's the dream's message; stop worrying about the future so much, and do something you like now. Play your games. Read your fiction. Don't worry so much. Fuck, I'm worried about whether I worry too much; that's a good indication that I do.

Dexter 3 this weekend.
I hope that Flight of the Conchords season 2 is good.
My little TV digression.

I feel like working until the sun goes down. Staying out of sight until nightfall. Earning monies lost in yesterday's absenteeism. Avoiding potentially uncomfortable conversations entirely. Wait until everyone is asleep, then emerge to wander at will. Somewhat like a vampire I'd gather, but without the coffin. But, alas, I am hungry, and must venture forth, into the light, to retrieve suitable snacks.

Pizza would be swell.

I'm too sensitive. I don't want to hear about how I'm not living up to my potential. I don't want to discuss my thoughts, for fear of ridicule. I don't want to try, in case I disappoint myself. Enough of this self-loathing bah-log-nah, this is why I drink. You can't be sensitive if you can't really feel. Then, not paralyzed by fear, I am able to speak and do things for a while, that otherwise I would not be able to will myself to say or do. Of course, I end up making mistakes and being sloppy, but at least I'm doing something. This sounds to me like an error in judgement. Flawed logic on my part. The flaw is assuming the only way to overcome fear is with alcohol, or drugs I guess, depending on the fear. I'm not sure what needs to be done, if anything, to get me to move on with life and live it and shit. But if something does need to be done, I bet it's way more work than getting drunk.

drunk-talk

I stopped drinking for a while.
A short while, mind you, but I stopped.
I didn't drink at all yesterday.
The day before, just finished off three small drinks from the bottle.

I sound like an alcoholic.
Just three drinks, hardly a stagger!

Today, I called in sick.
I felt like shit, my head was full and ringing.
I still feel it, but now I'm drunk.
So that million-bucks feeling is overpowering the pain in my sinuses.

I'll probably end up at a clinic tomorrow.
I might work regardless, if I wake up still buzzed.
And being that it's three am, and I'm still drinking, and working for eleven, I don't see how I could wake up one hundred percent sober.

Call in sick again, go to the doctor. Get some antibiotics.
Get the shits, eat soup, recover.
Something like that.

My head hurts.
Dehydration?
Entirely possible; I haven't trusted the tap water since the bathroom sink started to smell. Maybe I'm, just paranoid, but maybe our water is bad. Time will tell. I drank all the pop. No mix left, so this has got to be my last drink. Not really, but it will be. I may even save some for breakfast.

that's it for now, go to bed.
\m/

Piece of Fiction(Part 4)

But he didn't know.
He fell through a void of the unknown.
Further from all light, all information, all certainty.

No reference, no input from the senses.
Just a point of terrified awareness.
Flying faster than light, or totally motionless.
Impossible to know.

He reached out with his will.
Remembering his physical self.
He hit his head.

***

He'd fallen out of bed.
Head-first, into the floor.
His head rang with the fresh impact.
He raised his hand to his head; no blood, good.

He looked around, still dazed.
He was at home.
It was almost dawn. He could tell by the brightening sky visible through the windows.

He put on his loafing around the house clothes and headed to the kitchen to make some coffee.
He grabbed his cigarettes and lit one before he filled the kettle from the tap. He plugged it in, and waited for it to boil, leaning against the counter. He inhaled smoke. He had been having a strange dream, he could remember. He seemed to recall some sort of secret, and needing to run from an unknown pursuer. The government perhaps? A spy dream? He remembered feeling as though he had been caught. Was this dream a warning about something? Had he been doing something dangerous?

The cigarette burned his fingers, derailing his thought train. He heard the kettle whistling loudly. He had missed it evidently. He unplugged it, then turned to retrieve his dropped cigarette butt, and wiped the ashes on the floor away with his socks. He discarded the butt in an ashtray, and made himself an instant coffee, and headed into the living room to turn on the television. He found there was a program he had been looking forward to watching, but had been previously unable to watch due to a series of coincidences that prevented him from being able to watch it each time it had aired. He settled in for a rewarding experience, the dream drifting further and further from his thoughts.

drunk-talk, stream-of-thought

For all my drinking, I seem to be more productive.
I wrote a lot here, as compared to my usual posting rate, in the last week or so since I've been drinking more frequently. Sometimes I write sober, the next day, long rambling passages. Sometimes I write dark and terse materials, haunting with the air of truth. But how much truth these writings contain, I do not know.
That is the catch 22. The quality of writing goes down, but the production level increases. Lots of unedited is better than none for fear of criticism.

But is that really what I'm afraid of, or is it being accepted. If you're widely read, you're responsible for shaping the minds of such a large group, that the weight of it can be unbearable. Do you write the darkness you fear, to pass it on to your audience? What if they should take your fears as inspiration? The guilt might be unbearable. Better to keep it light and safe? Hardly worth reading. The drink gives courage enough to write. I shouldn't need this. Is it better to live clean and be stifled, always feeling like you've got more to say, you're wasting your potential?

I've been talking with this girl. I quite enjoy her company, and would like to get to know her better. But, she has stated she doesn't want kids ever. Now, I am in no hurry to procreate by any means, but I figure, eventually, I should be financially secure enough to want to reproduce. With her, I know, down the road, I'd need to go elsewhere. Might she change? Should I even ask her to?

Hell, I'm way ahead of myself. I don't hardly know her. It could be I would become irritated by her after a few months and might want out then. Or her tired of me. Lord knows, I'm no picnic. But, the real question is, we like each other, and we're at least willing to give it a go, but if down the road it's inevitably going to fall apart, is it worth pursuing? Could I change my mind, and not want to reproduce? If I ended up sterile or something, that would be ironic. I hope if i don't reproduce, that my brother does.

Stupid as it is, I want my name to live on. My dad was one of seven children, one of two males. His twin brother, has only daughters(adopted, but that's another story), so they won't likely be passing on the family name. Their five sisters have a number of kids between them, my cousins, with all kinds of last names, but none the same as my own. It seems foolish to want something as simple as your name to live on, I want to pass my genetic material as well, don't get me wrong, but I feel almost obligated to pass my name. I don't know though, that adoption would cut it, in truth. I feel the need to plant my seed.

Is that the Jack Daniel's talking? I don't think so. I'm pretty sure I'd say that sober. I do support adoption, but I also support the availability of abortion. Hey Zeus, i can hardly keep myself out of trouble, let alone another life form. I hope in time I will be responsible enough to raise a kid, but I wonder if I will every truly be ready. And does that mean I should just go for it, or not even bother?

I worry too, that I might come across more pleasant than I am. I wonder if I should try to reveal my worst qualities up front, to get them out of the way. Though, that certainly has not worked in the past *cough*yvonne*cough*. My fault though, I got self conscious and disappeared, can't expect much to come of that. But I really liked her, still do. I don't even know her, it's all irrational, and i don't expect she still thinks of me, but I can't help myself. I indulge the pointless and soul-crushing possibility, that someday we will end up together. Even seeing it makes me laugh at my own naivety. Why would she like me? I'm a high-strung drug user with more trivial knowledge than social skills.

So, should I investigate this new girl with this other girl, who I've met up with at an appointed time a few times, still in my head? God, it's so sad if you know the truth; I met her for a few poker games at her parents diner. I barely said anything, as I was trying to quit drinking, and when I did speak, it was this self depreciating bullshit that is unattractive no matter how it comes. I figured, I'd try to reveal all the worst things about me first, get them out of the way. Talk about the worst shit I've done, any regrets I have, that sort of downer material. No wonder she seemed...

I don't even know how she seemed, I was so self absorbed, I had to try and contain my feelings at any cost. So stupid. I still am I guess, I've not done much to learn, aside from watch pornography and talk to girls while I'm drunk. Really though, even saying that, I realize talking to people is a big part of social growth I have limited myself in as of late. As of the past few years actually.

It's like, I try to keep a low profile, because I'm afraid of getting hurt. I've had friends I trust turn on me, and I've turned on friend's I thought I'd trust for life. I feel like I no longer know what the world holds. I feel, really, like I never did, and my whole life has been a blissful lucky streak up to the point of realization, when I learned, my life is only getting shorter, and everything I do has consequences that potentially could affect me for the rest of my life. It's almost paralyzing.

I feel I'm making the right call, now anyway, to drink. I cut out the doubtful chatter, go with my instincts, and repair the damages. It's better than doing nothing, this much I know.

My instinct while drinking, is to try and contact this girl who I have been conversing with as of late. I'm scared of pregnancy, scared of sexually transmitted diseases, and scared of my own lack of experience. While drinking, they are there, but the volume is turned down, figuratively of course. I just don't know what I should be doing. Should I be getting drunk and making plans with this lady-friend? Should I sober up and buckle down stay offline and save up some money to get the fuck out of dodge? Should I try and move in with this girl I barely know, who keeps various ferrets and other mammals as pets, but who seems to enjoy my company, barely drinks, and likes to smoke weed a lot. Not to mention, she enjoys pills, but that might be another can of worms.

Last we spoke before her injury as of late(since then, the prescription talk has been related to current painkillers), she had a regular supply of ativan. This is most definitely habit forming, as I have formed a benzo habit in my past. Though I didn't particularly enjoy ativan, I recognize it is a powerful drug. I wonder if two druggies should really combine their powers. We would most likely not form Captain Planet, if you catch my drift.

I'm almost out of beer now, and all out of mix for the whiskey. I'll just smoke some weed and go to sleep, before I delete this post. In closing; for future reference, the current accepted doomsday is December 21, 2012. Whether this is the future, the past, or the point of reference, depends on a number of factors. I'm not sure that was from me.

May random find you well.
\m/