Monday

Monday.
The start of the work-week.
Pay week this week, that's good.
Already spending the cash in my head.

Doesn't look like I'm going to make it to Moncton this weekend.
I'll try and blame it on cash I think, but we'll know it's because I'm cowardly.

While it is true, that my buying a train ticket would leave me broke for a week, that is not the real reason why I'm not going to go. I think anyway.

What is the real reason then? Too much pressure? Fear?
But of what. Change? Loss? Loss of what, innocence? Not likely.

Identity maybe. For so long, I have been alone, and have been shaped by that, even defined by my solitude, that I am afraid to let someone else in. It's not even like she's saying she wants a relationship or anything, she just wants me to come stay with her for a visit. Watch some dvds, even have a couch to sleep on should I not feel up to preforming. She bought some pork just in case I do go, so I'll have some meat to eat, as she's almost a vegetarian.

The guilt is terrible now.

Is she buying stuff to try and lure me? I remember; one time she was supposed to come to town to fix her car. When her car was unable to make it, she came anyway. When I asked about this, I got the impression she may have come just to see me. She did not directly say this, but I did not try to clarify. Am I unwilling to make the trip just to see her? I know if I had a concert or some other excuse to go, it would be easier.

I've never really left town to go see someone just to hang out for a day or two. Always had a concert to go to to make the trip worthwhile. There's the guilt; is it not worthwhile to go and see a friend? You despicable bastard you.

I'm reminded now of a time when a friend came to visit and we ate mushrooms together. At some point, we experienced a miscommunication. We are no longer friends. At least, not like we were. We can be civil, and even occasionally hang out with mutual friends and be alright. But it's not the same. I've got my guard up all the time, gotta watch what I say, I can't relax, drinking helps, but then I get nervous about losing control. So it's easier to just avoid. Avoid intense situations, and people that make me nervous. Seems reasonable.

But what if sexual tension makes me nervous? There's no if about it, it does. So, should I avoid any situation that is remotely sexual? Duh, that's sounds like a bad idea. What about for now? What if I avoid sex for a while, get my head straight and my work in order before I go hunting? Will it be any easier then, after I've stabilized? Or will it be harder, with more time since my last foray into the bedroom?

Bah, enough of this. If free will is an illusion, then I have no choice in the matter anyway.

That's a big if though.

No conclusion yet, just chewing on some ideas. I may yet go to Moncton, but I'm leaning towards cowering at home. It's like my gut is telling me "No, not yet, there's work to be done". I want to listen to my gut, but my head is arguing; "What work? If you only get one life, do you want to waste it working? You can always leave her if she gets too heavy.". My loins chime in; "Yeah! You ain't afraid of a little disease are yah? You ain't gettin' any younger either, so get to fuckin' already!". They all make such good arguments.

So I'm back where I started. Unsure, just sort of leaning gut-wise. I'll probably end up ignoring the decision until it's too late, and I'll have already made it by missing the train. Does knowing this help me at all, I wonder? Am I helpless to change it? Maybe I'm more interested in what comes next. Maybe I assume I won't be going anywhere, and I want to see how it all plays out. No more painful plans hopefully. Just let myself fade into the background.

Time will tell, as always.

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/