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.

peeking out from under my rock

I can't keep a low profile.

Type type type, delete delete delete. Don't drink and type. Should have a keyboard breathalyzer.

I had a dream I think, where I was bad-tripping. Like a sense of impending doom, unreality, disconnection, a sense it was all about to slip away. Odd, maybe the dream was initially so good, I knew it couldn't last, and that's where the doom came from. I'm like that, I can't enjoy myself without feeling guilty. It's like, that time you spent resting you could have been working or helping someone that was working. Where does the sense of duty come from? This horrible sense of obligation and the guilt at not meeting these supposed obligations. I'm obliged to help anyone that needs help. Albeit, I don't mind usually, helping out. But when I can't get an hour to myself to just sit and relax, because I'm picking up the slack for others who are "chillin' out max and all relaxin' all cool", that annoys me. I usually don't say anything; I get drunk.

Like now! Yeah! I drank while I worked today. I haven't done that in years. I never did it regularly, and I don't plan to. I'm feeling guilty now, even though nothing bad came of it. Maybe that's a good thing though. Maybe I should feel bad about drinking at work. It's careless, definitely. But if nothing bad came of it, should I really feel guilty? I guess, better than good. I wouldn't want to get comfortable drinking at work. Then one day, I drink too much and lose it. Not to mention the cost of drinking earlier in the day. It adds up.

That's the start of Project Green Dragon. I hope the mason jar won't allow all the EtOH to escape. Not too much anyway.

Alcohol; it lowers inhibitions. Otherwise, I'd be too nervous to write. Granted, what I write lately has been scattered and less than amazing. Perhaps I would benefit from a period of sobriety to work out whatever it is that has me running to the bottle.

So far, Heart On, not as impressive as Death By Sexy and Peace, Love, Death Metal. In my inebriated opinion anyway. Then again, it has some pretty good tunes too. Too early to tell.

That southern guitar twang goes great with whiskey. Makes my spine feel like spaghetti. Loosey goosey.

Social networking sites make my heart hurt sometimes.

I play this riff on my electric guitar, it's missing the low E string(the top one). But the rhythm is really the important thing. It's between 10 000 days and the Doctor Who theme. But it sounds like a boat. Or a boat ride. I don't know, wavy. It trips me out though. I can zone out and play that riff in different variations for like a half hour straight. I like playing guitar like that, almost as a form of meditation. Same thing with games like tetris and Dr. Mario. Play until you quiet your mind. Pure action. Go Go Go. Or dancing when you're really high. For me anyway, being so self conscious, I like to be thoroughly inebriated before I get down propa. Back in the days of pcp, I'd really just go with it. Probably too much so. But that's a complicated story for another day. Really, it's a story never to be fully told.

I'm on my third 'last drink' now. They just end up so tasty. And the post seems to need more from me.

Paranoid people on the phone freak me out sometimes, with their pessimism. But then I remember; they are old and racist. Technology is frightening to them, and they must be short on cash these days. This one old lady talked about how there's no modesty or self respect nowadays, and people don't get married and split up over anything. She said she wouldn't want to be raising a kid these days, and I understood what she meant there.

It's weird; some of the people I know that ended up the best were the products of one-parent homes. Not all mind you, and sometimes it's a death and not a separation, but among my friends, those raised by one parent are all doing quite well for themselves. The same can not be said for those from two-parent homes.

The old lady was all concerned about the economy, telling me about millionaires jumping out of windows in 29, saying they didn't see it coming either. She said there's war coming, and the government is going to take our retirement money. These things detracted from her credibility somewhat. Though in time, they may prove to be quite true, who knows really.

The alcohol fog is rolling in, I think it's time to head to bed. Be safe.
\m/