12/13/08, Drinking with the blog

Eagles of Death Metal. Not drunk enough yet. Only on number two. 11:03pm

It's now 11:36pm. Just poured number four.



Oh my GOD! It's a MIRAGE! I'm tellin Y'ALL it's SABOTAGE!

Fuck, it feels like I never listen to music anymore. Well, I do when I'm drinking, which is still more often than some people listen to music. But it seems like I used to always have music going. In the car, between classes, at work, walking, anywhere, anytime. Always listening to something. Seems nowadays I'm more interested in my own thoughts than listening to music. Not that the two necessarily conflict, but sometimes it can be hard to think if a sound is bothering you. Distracting you I should(and did) say. I've mentioned many times now my affections for CBC radio. But keep that on the DL eh? I read books too, while we're talking about things that can paradoxically handicap you. You know what I mean, how in some circles, people wear ignorance like a badge. The most ignorant fuck of them all is usually the one talking. Perhaps this is a personal and not universal observation. But where I come from, you best hide your smarts. I right laughed out loud at that. See last post for further insight.

Started reading a new web comic today, or maybe yesterday. Yeah, yesterday. It's called Templar, Arizona. It's pretty interesting. I'm not all the way caught up yet, you're going to want to start from the start if you take a look at it. I was notified of a shirt with a picture of a bottle of pills in the middle, with "science will save me from myself" written around it in a circle. The shirt is somehow related to the comic, and as I liked the shirt, I decided to give it a read. I might be hooked. Add this to my favourites with Basic Instructions (Scott Meyer) and Buttercup Festival (David Troupes). I think Spike, the person responsible for Templar, Arizona is a fan of the band Clutch. The second volume of the series is called Mob Goes Wild, which is a Clutch song from the album Blast Tyrant. Good song. Good band. They get my seal of approval.



Note; do not open two years worth of web comics without restarting your computer. This is especially true is you are using a computer that is over a year old. It's gonna crash any second I think. Luckily, blogger will bail me out. 12:10am, now Saturday technically, just mixed number five.



I love that sweet Tennessee.



12:29am, closing Internet Explorer, I can't take this slowness. Videos on youtube look like slide-shows.

12:55am, I'm back. I watched a long video though, the Angry Video Game Nerd's Mario 3 video. It also talks about the movie the wizard, and features super mecha death Christ 2000 BC version 4.0 BETA. It's funny if you owned an NES and Mario 3 when they were new. Maybe even if you didn't.

My mom worked until midnight tonight. When she got home, she made me guess who she had a smoke with. It was an old friend of mine from high school. I really enjoyed her company, but I don't think we spent much time alone together. There was a few times when we were close, story of my life, but nothing came of it. She wrote something on the grad picture she gave me that more-or-less said I was the smartest guy in school. I was surprised. Not because I thought it was untrue, but that she was able to see it. There was this other guy, one of my good friends, who has fucked me over many-a-time, he was the president of the student council. He was probably regarded as the smartest amongst us publicly, but we were on the same page for most things. I distinctly remember helping him understand especially abstract concepts. We had a good mushroom buzz together one time where we rehashed the last few years(at the time). It was a good entertaining buzz, and we connected on some level, but over time of course, it faded. That's the thing with drugs; sometimes they work, sometimes they don't. This in itself is a very complicated concept, especially within my context. Like, mushrooms may work, and give you a buzz, but that doesn't necessarily mean you'll grow as a person from it. Or maybe it does. It's all relative I guess. We all measure progress and success in different ways. Hell, if I post something here, I consider it a productive act. I don't know if I'm really contributing much. I know I have one reader(shout-out to theloadingdock ), but do I weigh on her mind like a burden? I hope not. I know she occasionally derives insight from my writings, which is good, but more often expresses concern at my state of being. Is this a reflection on me or her? Ok, it's now 1:14, and I am feeling fairly inebriated. So, take a grain of salt now with what I say.

But I don't rightly know what I want from this blog. A revenue stream would be nice, but if I had a large audience, I'd probably freeze up. Like I did at dosenation.com. I posted a few articles, but once I started to get some serious comments and feedback, I froze up. Not because the comments we're negative, but because I wasn't sure I should be influencing these people. Now, here's where theloadingdock tells me I'm a good person, but she doesn't know me. Not that I'm a horrible person, but I take a fair amount of drugs, I've done things I feel bad about, and my future seems bleak. I've not given up, but I get jostled all the time. My dad shit on me the other day about not finishing university and choosing classes that start later in the day. I had a few days a week where I started at 3:30pm, so I could sleep in, and I said I had planned it that way. And he said something like; "Yeah, well, maybe that's why you're living at home with your parents working four hour shifts that are getting cancelled all the time..." basically that's it. I didn't really say much about it, as it wasn't entirely unprovoked, but I did go out and buy a bottle of booze. That seems to be my thing, I won't say anything, at least not if you're providing me free room and board, but you'll know I'm not happy. I hardly spoke to him at all until I was drunk. He's a recovering alcoholic by the way.

Why do I do this? Maybe my actions hurt as much as his words. Though, my actions are more drawn out and take longer to process. Does that make me cruel? Well, who made me what I am? Ok, I'm getting too deep into my own head now. Time for a commercial.

Fuck, don't those eHarmony commercials bum you out? Me too.

I was talking to my brother today. He's at college for the first time this fall, and he's having a rough go of it apparently. I've asked him about it many times, but this is the first he's mentioned of it being rough. It might be overshadowing my thoughts.

I hope he sticks it out, or switches to something he likes and get a degree in that. I understand his frustration though. I paid thousands of dollars to go to school when I was learning more at home on wikipedia and google and using the university's access to paid articles. I bought text books for classes I wasn't taking because I wanted to read them. That's how I roll. I come to class and listen, to try and learn. I never understood the people that came to class and played poker on their laptops.

Admittedly, I was somewhat shy and not fond of asking questions. Perhaps if I returned, I would be more confident, just being older than most of my classmates. I fell prey to the temptation to drink too much last time I went to school. Also, my classes were so varied; philosophy, calculus, astronomy and Latin. No wonder I stopped going to class.

I probably want to write. I do like the cbc, and radio offers a similar opportunity to communicate with language. And working at call centers, more than once I have been told I have a good voice and should look at radio or voice acting or something. I usually don't take too much stock in it, but it's happened a few times now, I'm starting to think they might be right.

Revisit the problem mentioned before; should I be influencing people? My experience in life has certainly not been typical, then are my insights not useful to typical people? Like, most people don't need to know how to deal with an existential crisis. Oh my god, the world is an illusion, I don't exist, there's no good and bad, choice is an illusion, et cetera.

For me, this comes in handy. It's usually just a matter of breathing deep and riding out the weirdness. I'm all over the place tonight. Contradicting myself, talking like a fool, talking too much. My instincts are telling me to end the post and go play some Call of Duty. But what do they know.

I think it would be funny as hell to see someone walking all psychotic, maybe dancing slightly, while the chicken dance is playing. Picture it now. Eyes narrowed, head barely moving, slight jerks in the arms and legs. Never moving the eyes. Smiling like a lunatic. What, is that funny? Or fucked up?

Seems I'm moving backwards.

The comic; Templar, Arizona. The main dude, Ben Kowalski, he has this encounter that sort of wakes him up. A terrorist/protester ends up stuck outside the window of his apartment. He ends up letting the guy in, and the guy pretty much leaves right away. But Ben comes away with a sense of confidence; he could have been killed by this outlaw, but no harm came to him. He faced a challenge independent of his family, and persevered.

I think I could use a good confidence boost. I don't know what would do it. I suppose, if I, like Ben in the comic, became a professional writer, like, to pay the bills, I would probably enjoy that. Even in the comic, Ben doesn't have a degree in journalism. I think he hasn't even graduated from high school. He takes pills to manage some sort of mental disorder(I think). He doesn't get out much. He's a lot like me. I don't take pills for any diagnosed mental disorders, but I do have problems with insomnia sometimes, and occasionally resort to pills. Usually Benadryl, but sometimes, if I have access to prescriptions medications, I'll go with benzos.

Prescription medication; at least you know what you're getting.

2:16 am, I'm on drink number 6 or 7 or 8, I don't really know. I drank at least a third of a quart. Or, a 750 ml bottle. I think that's a quart. Crazy Americans. Though I will give you this; height and weight are more descriptive in your system. Of people anyway. For small weights(IE; grams) metric is preferred.

I'm sort of running out of steam here. Not too much else to say right now. I hope I didn't offend my reader by anticipating her response. May random find you well.
\m/
(2:22AM)

Funny, but fucked up too.

Anxious. Seeing shadows, like tracers but reflections of the actual instead of a visual echo. Intermittent. The benadryl I took? The coffees I drank earlier? I am on my third drink containing Green Dragon. The project has been a success. The product does taste strongly of the additive. A higher quality additive would likely yield an even better result. I look forward to repeating this.

I called that lady-friend of mine. We spoke for a while. It was alright. I don't think I said anything offensive or acted too weirdly. We're supposed to hang-out some around the holidays. Let's hope I don't flake out. I did talk about video games a bit, like, I said something about how I don't like the phone ringing while I'm playing video games. She made a sarcastic comment, I followed suit, we laughed. Like all is well, but don't be hooked on the machine there. Which is reasonable I suppose.

Talked about a band from our hometown, she felt the same way I did about their music without my prompting her. That was kinda cool.

Not sleeping much lately. Anxiety related, thin curtains don't help much either. Staying up too late as well. Sleep debt might be making me feel bad. Can't help.

I remember one time I stayed awake for two or three days drinking coffee and pepsi. I went for a walk the second night, and everything seemed to be shrouded in thick fog. I couldn't see the end of the street I was on the fog was so dense. Things may also have been shiny, covered in frost, but that may be a false memory. Anyway, when I came in, I asked my roommates about the fog, and they looked at me funny and asked "What fog?". I figured it was probably about time to get to sleep then.

That was a strange time in my life. After I had a particularly bad idea, I woke up in the hospital unable to speak at a normal rate. It was like I was a skipping cd almost. Like I'd have to stutter through everything I said. This lasted an hour or two. I went home to sleep as soon as I was able to.

After 6 hours of sleep or so, I woke up, glad to be alive, and back to normal(or so I thought). I could now speak at a normal rate once again, and being that it was Halloween, I headed out to the liquor store with my roommates for the start of the night's festivities.

Over the next three days. I met a homeless person, who offered me a dorito. I ate it, though I do not like doritos, as he had just told me about stabbing a guy who tried to take his sleeping spot. I also was walking trying to figure out if I was alive or dead, and what should I see? A dead fox. I think it was a fox, maybe a raccoon or something similar. Anyway, it was dead right in the middle of the sidewalk. It must have been hit by a car or something, as it looked like it had hit the sidewalk pretty hard. I remember walking, being unsure if I was in some sort of coma dream, if the hospital really just sends you on your way after a crazy possible od with no instructions or anything. Not even a 'take it easy for a few days'. And I almost walked on this dead animal. And I had to stop in my tracks for a second and kind of gape. It was like this;
"So, you think you're dead eh? Well, I'll show you dead" *cue carcass* "There, that's dead. See? You're not like that fucker now are you? Now get to living and stop peering into the void that is your blackout. Somethings are blacked out for a good reason." And so, I went on my way.

Every time I try and really figure out the details of what happened, I end up blacking out again, with another mystery to solve. It's frightening. So, I try to just accept that I am alive, as I seem to be, try not to worry about the past, as it's over, and I can't change it, but also learn from it, even if you don't remember. How do you do that you ask? Hopefully, your subconscious retained the necessary information for you to benefit from your experiences, regardless of whether or not you remember them, and is able to relay that information to you through intuition or gut feelings.

I made something up today, and my lady-friend said, well, you learn something knew everyday. I had a flash like, everything was once a thought or idea, and the person that first had the thought figured it was just and idea, just something they came up with. Not a piece of vital information that would change history. Like the first guy that suggested maybe the earth goes around the sun. Everyone had a good laugh, except for one person in the room, who was like; "That's it! Eureka!". Like in fight club, when Bob dies, and the narrator says that his name was Robert Paulson, and then the whole idea gets taken out of hand to mean something totally different than intended. Probably why Kurt Cobain killed himself. It was just too much attention. Like you can't shit profundity. If you watch anyone long enough, you will find things to scrutinize. But if you love them too much, you perhaps let these things slide, even glorify them. Like when you tell stories that make you laugh sometimes, but make you sad others. Like it's funny, but it's fucked up too. That's life I guess.