No Vember Thirtieth

I'm all nervous feeling and shaky. I don't know if it's too much caffeine, or not enough alcohol. I know, it sounds shady, but I was reading in my medical text today about how alcohol stops involuntary tremors. I went out at lunch, had a quick nip, then back to class. I was a little nervous at first, that I might let out a big beer-burp or something, but nothing happened. I didn't sweat profusely, if anything, I was less nervous than I generally am when I speak in class. Still though, a dangerous road, drinking at school. Drinking early in the day, on a regular basis, isn't generally a good idea, in my experience anyway.

So, in addition to my sweaty-shaky-vomitous-feverish good times, I've been a little jealous of Michelle's work colleagues again. I remembered though, that she loves me, and all that good stuff. I also elaborated a bit, realizing that if she did meet someone at work that she preferred over me, it would be awful of me to try and keep them apart for my own selfish gains. If I love her, and want her to be happy, I should really stop worrying about other guys. Other guys will always be around, and if she wants one, there's nothing I can do to stop her. And, if it made her happier than she is now, I wouldn't want to stop her. Well, ok, I'd want to, but I probably wouldn't. I probably couldn't might be more accurate. I'm all about italics tonight.

So yeah, I'm going to try and relax about that. It just makes me sad that she ends up spending 12 hours a day with some of these guys, and I see her an hour before work in the morning, at the most, and in the evening until one of us goes to sleep. Even then, at night, often one or both of us are stressed from our day, Michelle likes to rant, if she rants about her male coworkers a lot, I usually get sad. Of course, I'm always worried that we aren't having sex enough, but then I drink to try and relax or because my mouth hurts, or even hanging out with Michelle playing Mario Kart for shots, and I get sad, or worse. Then I feel bad, and unworthy, and I just cower and hide for a while. Needless to say; not very attractive. So yeah, I shoot myself in the foot too.

Oh, and for the record, my mouth hurts because I had a tooth pulled last weekend. Not just two days ago(it's Monday today), but the Saturday before that. A molar. Kinda got some dry-socket going on I think. Not too-too bad, but you know, I smoke, and I smoked the day I had it pulled, so it's not entirely unexpected. There I go again with shooting myself in the foot.

God I miss her, I'm going to go meet her at work soon. I'm going to try and just be cool and not try and get into her pants tonight. I'm going to try I say, because it's hard for me to not like, touch her or want to touch her when I look at her and stuff. I guess I probably freak out over touch too much, I don't know. Something isn't quite right on my end I think, probably why I can't quite figure it out; because it's my problem.

December tomorrow; the month of Christmas and my birthday, as well as the new year. Two weeks off of school too, and a trip to Bathurst featuring turkey and family, always fun. I need to pick up a bus pass tonight though, if I think about it. I wonder if I would have time to get one before I meet Michelle. But I digress. Later this week, my mom is staying with us for the night. She's visiting a friend nearby and wants to stop in on her way back and do some shopping. She's bringing me my old jacket, which is good, because the zipper broke on my new one. There's velcro to hold it closed, but no buttons, so, at best it's pretty breezy. Also my mason jars will be coming, time to resurrect Project Green Dragon perhaps? Lots to look forward to anyway.

Well that about wraps things up for now. May random find you well. Have a good one.
\m/

Ranting the Day Away

I'm so horny I could cry, just to get some fluids out.

I masturbated yesterday, the only reason I know I went off is that my hand got all wet. I couldn't even feel it. What happened to me?

Ok, so maybe it isn't all pent-up horniness. I haven't been sleeping all that much, and I had my first week of school which involved a lot of early, long days. I have to get the bus at 7:15 to make it to school for my 8:15 class.

This is the first time I've made regular use of a public transit system, and I must say, not too shabby. I was able to get a monthly pass at the student rate of 44$, which is much better than what I would pay at 2$ a ride. And I can pretty much get anywhere I want to go in less than an hour if I check the schedule first or I am taking a route I know. And it sure beats walking when you've got a bag or two full of stuff with you, or it's cold or raining out, or you're tired.

But yeah, so I've been learning to navigate the bus system is Moncton this past week, it isn't too difficult to figure out. But, starting last Sunday night, I developed an abscess problem at my tailbone that was quite troubling. I could hardly sit normally, and was wearing a wad of toilet paper in my underwear in anticipation of its disgusting eruption. So, as you can imagine, m first day of school, Monday morning, was a little awkward. I had to slowly lower myself into a chair and shift positions often to not be in constant pain. It was a long day, having been my first day that started so early and lasted all day, with no nap or anything! Then with the butt thing, and carrying a bag full of books, and riding the bus for an hour or so, and no weed all day, I was in a pretty bad mood.

I feel bad about that, because Michelle had made me supper, and I was tired and dirty, and I had lived on coffee and cigarettes, and didn't smoke weed yet, so I wasn't hungry. Then, I was a little upset that the apartment was pretty much dirtier than when I left, and the laundry was not done. Now, I know I sound really sexist, like, "Clean my shorts woman!", but really, it was just because she had said she would and then didn't that I was upset. That, and I knew I needed to do laundry before school tomorrow, and now would have to be doing that for a while, which means keeping my pants on and going through the building to the basement a few times. Again, it isn't that this is women's work, in fact, since we've lived here, I'm the one who has done all the laundry. She did some laundry at her parents place over Thanksgiving, but so did I at my parents place the same weekend. I don't know why I'm making a big deal here, just to say that I certainly do my fair share of laundry.

But yeah, so I was pretty ungrateful about supper Monday, and I felt bad about that. I ended up lancing and draining my butt-pimple thinger, which was probably a new record for gross pimple-poppings, at least preformed by me. It required quite a bit of cleanup afterwards anyway, and I still couldn't sit comfortably that night, but by the following morning, my ass was back in business! So, Tuesday should have been better, right? But no, now I had to deal with a leaky ass-pimple, and the toilet paper at school is like wiping your ass with a receipt. And I got home later, because school goes just a little bit too late for me to make the earlier bus. I went to the liquor store to buy some tiny airplane-sized bottles to "freshen up" up my energy drink. I stopped at a newsstand to buy a magazine for Michelle that she had been unable to find at a few stores she had checked close to home. Me either for that matter. But anyway, I got home, feeling fine, a little buzzed and bearing gifts, thinking I would be much more pleasant today. But then we started talking, I asked Michelle about her day, she told me she got up at 1pm, and then I said something like "Four hours ago!" and she got pretty angry, and told me something like "Could you let me talk for one freakin' second!", which put me in a bad mood pretty quick. Then when I started to rant and complain about my day, she told me I could quit school if I wanted to.

I was quite disheartened by this; when Michelle rants about her bad day at work, I don't tell her to quite her job. I listen, agree with what's reasonable, and...

***

Work got busy. I just came back from a break. I dropped the kids off at the pool; much more satisfying today then yesterday's "wet hand dilemma". I feel pretty foolish about getting all crazy. Now I'm more worried about my homework and that fucking essay I need to write for TSD for this Friday. I need to get in contact with people in the industry I am studying to enter and ask them about the job, and what kind of person succeeds in it, and how the job market is and that sort of thing. I mean, these are things I kind of already know, but I guess I need to speak with people already working in the industry, like five of them, as sources for this essay. But I also don't need to actually cite my sources I think, it's more of an informal essay. So, I may be able to get away with not actually conducting any research, so long as it all sounds good. I don't feel good about doing it that way though, I have a feeling it would come back to bite me in the ass.

I suppose, I could just use the appointment to sort of set things up further, get her to help me with my essay, make sure it sounds good and such. She wasn't too helpful last time I was there though, she made me feel pretty nervous about the whole thing.

***

More time has passed. My thought train has been through a few different stations, and is currently en route somewhere else. I'm trying to tie up some loose ends to finish this post neatly, but really, it wouldn't be accurate if I did clean things up all tidy. Things are still complex, with lots of positives and negatives all around, and some things whose value is unclear, that may be positive or negative, depending on one's perspective. It's exciting though; trying to determine how everything fits together, and how you fit in with everything. Working to better your position, and helping those you care about better themselves.

Also, I must mention, Christmas is coming, and it's pretty fun this year. I have some extra cash, and I think I'm doing pretty well with gift choices so far, in that the recipients should be pleased. I hope I don't go too crazy with the money, as I still have some stuff I could use, and I don't care much for asking for things. But I have a hard time making large purchases for myself. I 'lent' Michelle the money for a new camera, it's not a big deal or anything, but I kinda realized; the last time I spent that much money on myself, I bought this laptop, which was like, four years ago. I guess if I count all my expenses, some concerts and trips to Bathurst and Moncton when I lived in Bathurst were probably pretty close in price.

She'll get a lot of use out of it though, like me with the laptop, and she'll take care of it too. She's had her last camera, which is basically the analog version of the digital she picked up, for years now, and has never needed to take it in for repairs or anything. It just seems a little retarded to me, that I'm kinda sad because we don't get enough naked-time together, and I buy her gifts with my loan money. It seems like I should buy me gifts to cheer myself up. I guess I did buy a couple games and a controller for the gamecube, that was like 50$. It's not like I never get anything for myself, I just feel guilty about spending money that I guess I think of as ours on me. I don't know if I could ask her to lend me money to buy myself something, not that she would refuse, but I don't know if I could assert myself like that. I have that whole inferiority complex thing going on I guess.

I guess that's why I brought up my school stuff and what I was doing, because I don't think I'm perfect by any means. In fact, I'm not surprised Michelle hasn't been to eager to hop into be with me; I've been pretty grumpy. Who wants to sleep with that? Exactly. So, yeah, I'm kinda causing my own problems as of late. Maybe more than as of late, and maybe everyone does that, not just me. But then again, luck factors in. Or seems to anyway...

So, again, I try and end this post. I say see you in the future, and may random find you well.
Then I type in the hand thing,
\m/
..and I'm done.
Have a good one.

Throw a little more dirt on there...

So, I had this dream, where Michelle and I were making out in our bed, and I kept falling asleep on her. I woke up and apologized and tried to continue, but I kept falling asleep(in my dream this is). Seems fairly self-explanatory.

We went to Bathurst last weekend, it was a funner trip than when we went for the wedding this summer. We weren't so bored and broke and stranded...

What would it be like to be born on another planet, having never seen Earth? Would you dream of coming to Earth, to see the place where your species originated? Or would you take pride in your off-world ancestry? Would one born extraterrestrially find Earth too loud and busy, or even too full of life? Would all the plants and animals be overwhelming? I mean, if you were born on a desolate desert planet, where you can't walk outside without a totally secured environment-simulating suit complete with radiation shield and weighted boots, maybe shorts at the beach would just seem too weird for you. The ocean? Snow? Hail? Wind? A moon with phases?

What everyday things to us, might seem new, strange or exciting to those born and raised on another planet? Even a moon, or in another galaxy. Maybe the colour of our sun would seem amazing to someone born under a different 'sun'. I guess a different star would be more accurate.

"I was born, under a wanderin', wanderin' star"

Memories of childhood, my dad singing to me before bed. I still have yet to hear the original recording of that song. I don't even know who sings it. Perhaps, I will look that up now.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wand%27rin%27_Star

Lee Marvin was probably the first person to make the song a hit, it was featured in Paint Your Wagon, both the stage and cinematic versions. My dad does enjoy the old western movies, so, it seems likely that this is where he heard the song. I guess it was a number one hit in the UK, it even kept The Beatles' famous 'Let it Be' at number two. I have yet to listen to the song, as I am presently working, and the sound would be too distracting right now. I will hopefully remember to listen to it later on.

Almost time to take a break(10:57PM), I wonder if Michelle is still awake. I still feel kinda bad about earlier. It's an inarticulate bad feeling too. Sort of guilty I guess, but I think it's closer to dread. Foreboding? That's pretty close; "a sense of impending evil or misfortune". Maybe it's just a general feeling of anxiety. I can't quite put my finger on it.

I've been noticing that more lately, like I can't quite find the right word for things. Or is it that I'm never quite satisfied with my phrasing and descriptive abilities. Do I need to expand my vocabulary? I do enjoy learning words from other languages(and writing in italics, apparently). I find it interesting to note similarities and differences between languages. In fact, if I have the time, I'll probably take some linguistics courses and courses in other languages before I'm through. For my own amusement even. This may never happen, as I'd have to have quite a bit of financial independence and free time, which seems unlikely to occur, at least in the near future.

I got a stab of anger and some sort of pain, like humiliation or jealousy. My mind wanders over certain topics, and I feel sick, like helpless and miserable. Doomed? Damn, I'm hitting quite a few spots of the emotional spectrum that I'm not used to, spots I may not want to become familiar with.

Work is getting busy now, it's after midnight, the home stretch. Last hour of my shift. Now is when I fill out my timesheets and prepare my refusal trackers to be sent in at the end of the night. Nothing too fancy. I'm done pretty early, 12:10...

I spoke too soon apparently, I'm switching projects again, go back to my timesheet, back to my timegrid, that's about it though. Not a real time consuming switching, as long as I don't switch two more times before the end of my shift or anything crazy like that. I miss Michelle. She's like two rooms away, she can probably hear me typing this right now, but still, I want to be touching her. Enough of that stuff though, I could go on and on without saying anything really.

Ugh, ok, so at about 12:30, I had to modify again. Whoop-dee-doo, why am I sharing this? outer monologue. I talk like this too, all over the place, filling in too much detail, losing my train of thought. I try to at least keep things entertaining. 8)
Have a good one,
May random find you well,
\m/

Rant while you work

I feel like writing, but I don't know what to write about. I guess really, I feel more like reading. I'm working again, this makes it nine days straight, so I can't really read a book. The websites I frequent for short reads, Fmylife and text from last night, are updated too slowly for my current work-binge. I have read the whole sites I believe. Every text, every fmylife. I stop by givesmehope now and then, but it just doesn't hold my interest like fmylife or text from last night. Does it make me a bad person to prefer reading about life's little fuck ups over life's unexpected good fortunes?

I wonder what the psychology grad students are theorizing about fmylife as a cultural phenomenon. What kind of indicator is it? I know I have started hearing about world events from txt from last night. For real; I heard about the VMAs (sort of) through tfln, and even Patrick Swayze's death, and Kanye's outburst at said award show. This may not be the most important news of the day, but still, it's where I heard it first. Mind you, I don't have cable, so I don't get much information from the tv anymore, but certainly i am not alone. My generation, that refuses to pay for music, is likely switching more and more to streaming and downloading their television programs rather than enduring the commercials and volume changes and censoring so annoyingly present on network television.

What was I going to say? I though I had an idea worth sharing, but I can't seem to recall what it was. Dang work, always getting in the way of my slacking off! The calls, they just never stop. One after the other, I must be dreaming about ringing phones these days.

It will be nice to work in the health sector as opposed to the market research/phone jockey crap I do now. Don't get me wrong, it's better than some work, but it's hard to do more than get by doing this. I can't imagine trying to raise a family on my wage.

Talking to people on the phones, asking how many hours per week people are working, I've come to notice that people work too much. 60 hours, 80 hours or even 100 hours a week spent working is more and more often the norm. It's like we're working so much we hardly have time to enjoy our lives. We spend money for convenience, because we've got work to do and things to take care of before that, and only so many hours in a day, let alone business hours. So we buy what's close, what's easy, and we pay out the ass for it. Then we work more, to try and get ahead, but now we can't make the grocery store, so we have to buy our food at whatever store is open after 1am. So, now we're dealing with less selection, buying food we don't really want, so we can work more shifts we don't want to, at our job we don't really like, so we can pay our bills, so we don't get kicked out of our shitty apartments or lose our crappy cars. Our health suffers as we don't eat well and we lose sleep trying to get ahead. This costs us more money, as we lose time from work and need medications. So we work more to make up, which means less relaxing, less sleep, and less quality time with loved ones. Our health suffers, mentally and physically.

Anyway, no one wants to hear someone else complain about work. Things are pretty good in a lot of other ways, just the whole monetary system kind of gets me down. You know, how it's designed to create inflation and scarcity to increase profits forever, to benefit those with power and at the cost of those without. But, what are you going to do, move off the grid? Live in a shack in the woods? Come on, you know you want sneakers and goretex and teflon and penicillin, you can't just up and quit, right?

...Right?

Not much, you?

Working lots. Everyday for a week now. Put in extra hours yesterday, probably again today. As long as my shifts for the next few days aren't cut, I should be making some overtime on my next check. Which is good, because it will be coming conveniently on the first of the month. And we still have to pay our damage deposit, so yeah, it's a good time to work a lot.

I've still got to make my way to Training and Skills Development Canada, as well as Employment Insurance, in the near future. I need to see them to finalize my student loan before class starts in November. I'm a little nervous now thinking about it, as it's getting to be pretty close in the temporal sense, and I don't have all my necessary plans laid out. I haven't studied the bus route to determine how I will get to school yet. I haven't told work yet that I'll be going to school, so I'm not sure if I'll be keeping my job with reduced hours, or quitting to go to school, or if I'll get 'laid off for the season'. I haven't looked at the stuff from the school in months, I don't know if there are other things I should be doing or taking care of. I think I just basically have to arrange the money situation and buy my school supplies. I don't know where you buy lab coats or hospital scrubs really. Actually, as I recall, there is a local supplier listed with the required supplies. Also, my mom, working in a hospital lab, definitely knows where to get scrubs and lab coats. She even pointed out a scrub shop in North Tetagouche not long ago, now that I think about it. I always thought they sold like sports equipment to the local teams.

Ok, so, I might have freaked out a bit for nothing. I still have a good month and a half, and I'm planning to go to TSD this week some time. I guess EI doesn't take as long when you aren't accusing your former employer of criminal activity as well, so, that might be on the go in only two weeks. Still, I'll try and get a move on with it.

Besides that stuff, we're doing pretty good. Not spending a whole lot of quality time together, but it's good when we do. Playing Paper Mario and the Thousand Year Door again, that's fun. Michelle is playing through for the first time, I'm just doing side quests and stuff on my old save game. We're a little short on funds, as usual, but we have food for a few days yet. We bought back one of my guitars, or picked it up at the pawn shop, whatever you want to call that. It was still mine there, in the back room or whatever, not for sale. It hadn't been forfeited I guess you say. Nice to have it back anyway. Though, I haven't had a chance to play it yet with all the working. After my shift today, I don't work until 6pm tomorrow, so I'll have some time to hopefully play some guitar, and watch a movie with Michelle before work. If we don't end up playing Paper Mario all day that is.

We've got a few things to look forward to down the road. We might go see Louis CK when he comes to town this month. Depends how we're doing. Jon Lajoie got pushed back to January, which is alright, something to do then that isn't ass-cold. Going to Bathurst for a family visit at the start of next month if all goes according to plans. I don't know, I could go either way on this. I like visiting, but I don't like not being able to work, as well as spending money that could be used to buy a new tv or dvd player that Michelle has expressed an interest in acquiring. Don't get me wrong, I want them too, I just don't want to be disappointed if we don't get them maybe? Maybe I know I'd rather watch our old tv with the knobs and no remote and go visit the family and go out to do things and have a drink or eight now and then. I guess Michelle just knows better what's important. That last sentence looks like, Yoda-speak or phrased Frenchly. Oh well, *shrug*.

There are some things we didn't buy this week, laundry stuff and kitchen stuff mostly. We'll have to try and get them soon, but we're not suffering or anything. We still have clean clothes, and we can wash dishes as we need them. We're not down to our underwear eating out of cans with our hands, yet anyway. And would it be so horrible to be trapped semi-nude with one's girlfriend? I think not.

Well, things to do, calls to take, you know how it is. Have a good one, and may random find you well.
\m/

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)

What do I know anyway

Been drinking again. At least four hours tonight already. Still, I am walking straight, not slurring. If anything, I am able to speak more easily. No stumbling over my words, or sudden loss of confidence. That stuff just happens when I'm nervous. Unfortunately, that is far too often.

I had a dream recently. I was at a party, I knew most if not all of the people there. I'm not sure where I was, I seem to remember brown furniture, or at least earthy colours, like green and brown, leading towards fall I think. Orange and red, but not overly bright, muted colours.

I remembering having a giant glass, one of those brandy snifters that looks as big as a fishbowl. I mixed myself a drink with a lot of some sort of liquor and maybe some red juice, I assume fruit punch. Being so large, I was able to mix a rather strong drink. I think the liquor was clear, and I'm leaning towards coconut rum, as I saw someone drinking coconut rum straight on tv recently.

When I woke up, I immediately looked around for my giant drink. Unfortunately, it was nowhere to be found. Now, what is this dream telling me? Is it a reminder that drinking is a large part of socializing, hence the over sized glass? I think I was having fun, walking around, chatting it up, ranting here and there. I don't remember any of the conversations. What I do remember is feeling good, and having a big ole drink with me.

I've never taken a whole lot of stock in my dreams, as they are often abstract and difficult to interpret. A nice straight-forward "These are the lottery numbers for tomorrow's draw" dream would be alright with me.. But alas, I usually end up in some weird boot camp, flying above power lines or...

Wait a second, my other recurring dream, the one where I'm in a large house with secret passageways in it. That was in the same cluster of dreams. You know, how you usually have like 3 or 4 dreams a night, well, this drinking party dream may have overlapped with the secret passageway dream. Was the party in the house with the passageways? Does the house represent my own psyche? Perhaps an afterlife I am building for myself? Forgotten dreams? Lost hopes? What is it? Is it the divine? My sense of faith?

I was recently rummaging through some of my things, when I came across a note my mother had written for me. It was from when I was only six or seven years old. She had put it in a box for me to see when I am older(well done mom). The note said basically, that she had picked me up from school, and when we were leaving, my teacher asked if I was too old for a hug, and I said of course not, hugged her, and headed home. On the way home, apparently I commented that the teacher had asked a silly question. This touched my mom so much, she wrote this note for me to read later, saying how she was glad that I am affectionate and like to be that way.

This hurt me a bit to read.

I'm not much for hugs nowadays. I know, why not? They're simple embraces, a sign of affection, what's the big deal? My genitals are a foot from yours, that's the big deal. I feel your tits against my chest, and I can barely think. I know, it's horrible. That's not the idea at all, but it's not a conscious thing on my part. It's like, if I'm really down, like I 'need a hug' or whatever, and then I get one, I'm like, that's better, you fucking emotional cripple. Why can't you just be normal? Why is everything such a big fucking deal? Then I feel bad for making someone else concerned about me, like I'm wasting their time. I should be able to fix myself myself. After all, wasn't it my actions and choices that got me here?

If you believe in free will that is.

Maybe I should call my blog breaking the beams, or reality decoded.

For clarity; I am in a good mood actually. I'm frustrated that I'm barely working, and next week I'm going to feel the crunch, but really, I'm quite enjoying my time off. My ears could use a few days sans headphones to recover. Long story.

I guess understanding and food for thought make me happy. And I've been turning over that whole gas giant ignition plan as well as my use of alcohol and my involvement with a certain individual of the opposite sex. Lots of things to think about. But am I just avoiding thinking about my own future? My own life plans, or lack thereof?

I've been thinking about the delay in Cassini's mission until 2012. If at the time, they choose to send it into the atmosphere of Saturn, causing ignition, thawing our friendly solar neighbourhood Titan moon, coinciding with the alignment of the Earth, Sun, and galactic center, then they may be able to, like, really pull off something great. To those science oriented, it would be a major triumph, a feat unmatched by any previous civilization, pyramids or not. To those religiously oriented, it could be seen as a second coming, a second sun, instead of a second incarnation of a son. Even the new agers can get behind a shift to the fifth age of humanity/civilization/existence in general. If they time it right, and it works, it could really be a unifying thing.

Let's say, as a matter of unforeseen consequences, the Earth experiences an onslaught of radiation. There's no way everyone would be killed. Those that remain would have not only the Earth, but potentially the moon Titan as a hospitable environment to colonize. Perhaps we might even evolve a way to cope with radiation. Wouldn't that be great. We could save tons of money in space suits if we didn't need to shield ourselves from radiation.

I know, it's morbid, and calculating, but it might be inevitable. If it might work, we're going to try. No two ways about it. We weren't sure that an atomic bomb wouldn't destroy the Earth, but we tested them anyway. It's a risk worth taking. What do you want for your future; Star Trek? Or Mad Max?

Think about that for a while.

Changing the subject now; frequently, when I think about the past, it pains me. I remember innocence and ignorance, and how much easier life was as an ignorant teenager. How I could just jam out a song, and enjoy it, even if it was incredibly simple. Now, it has to be perfect. I've been playing with the same riff for months, I can't come to a conclusion on it. Or maybe I can; I'm not good enough to play it.

A few years ago, I assembled a few poems I had written into a coherent album. A friend and I laid down the first two tracks, and then nothing. We were too into drugs, and we had a falling out. Now, I can't trust the guy. I couldn't turn my back on him without feeling uneasy, even with a cop in the room. It might be because we did so many drugs together, but I think there's more to it. I had an insight about the guy, and it rang true. It even reminded me of old warnings I had heard about him, but wrote off at the time as groundless. Now, in retrospect, they seem all too up his alley.

But, the thing is, he wrote the music for my words. It hurts to admit, but he did a good job too. He was always good at coming up with riffs. And now, he's in a band with three of my friends, where he is the singer. In my opinion, his lyrics are a bunch of bullshit, that's not his forte. I was insulted that my friends never even considered asking me to be the singer for the band. They asked this joker. Now, I can't listen to them play anymore, I just want to smash my head in. It sounds like the singer is on fire, he seems so tormented. I don't know what his deal is, I tried to find out, but he wasn't forthcoming. I just got worried for myself and my family and I made the smart move I think, to stop hanging around with this dude. All we did was drugs. And he overstayed his welcome. It's like fuck, go home! I'm going to bed now, leave my living room you fucker.

Ahh I don't know, I hate to be even discussing this. It's like, I'm pretty sure I made the right call. Now, my friends in the band don't have a problem with him, but I figure that in time, his nature should become undeniable. They should eventually see what I saw.

I sort of hope I am wrong, this fellow is nothing but good, and I've made a terrible mistake. But, I also think, that is what he'd want me to think. Fall back into a destructive routine, and a few months down the road, we're signing a suicide pact in blood and ODing on whatever we can get our hands on. No thanks, I'd rather not take the risk.

The blog is my shrink today. I will vent my troubles and hope that the weight comes off my mind.

So, where am I at now? I don't like to let people get too close, physically or emotionally. The more you care, the more you get hurt. I'm trying to be health conscious, but I have a hard time dealing with my family, which leads me to consume substances, which affects my health negatively. Going on six hours since I started drinking now.

I feel like I'm reaching a breaking point though, where it is getting to be too hard to stay with my parents and watch them fight and worry about their troubles and my brother's troubles and my uncle's as well, let alone my own. I'm worried though, that if I move out, I'll end up drunk all the time again until shit blows up in my face. Or, I'll isolate myself from my family and friends, and end up being relatively healthy, but antisocial, and just stay home and play video games all day. Fucking grim futures the both of them.

I suppose, when my parents die, there will be life insurance, and inevitable change. But I'm really not waiting for that, at least I hope not.

I'm so evil sometimes.

Props to MC Chris. And HORSE the band. Keep up the good works lads.

I remember listening to Relationship of Command, the At the Drive-In album, back in first year university, that was some good times. I cranked arcarsenal for the last two minutes of 'loud hour' during exam week. Good times.

I think my thought train has reached the end of the line for tonight. Now, go eat a grain of salt. May random find you well.
\m/

Update;
Slight hangover. New Dreams today. Fighting with father, as he put my food on the table instead of a plate, and when I asked him why, he played dumb, then said, well, you should do more for me. I got mad at him, but in the dream it all seemed foolish. I yelled at him, and he looked sad, but my examples were poor. I cited things I'd like to do but can't rather than things I am able to do, and have done as of late.

Also, there was another dream. I was at a Doctor's office. We seemed to speak only briefly, and then time seemed to skip ahead. The doctor held a chart indicating my health concerns(IRL, not just in the dream) and had outlined my treatment. They said something like this and this will clear up right away, this and this will take a little longer. Was I to receive chemo? Or was it just an antibiotic? I will try to remember.

And when they were down, they were down.

The grand old Duke of York,
He had ten thousand men.
He marched them up to the top of the hill
And he marched them down again.

And when they were up, they were up;
And when they were down, they were down.
But when they were only halfway up,
They were neither up nor down!

-The Grand Old Duke of York

Ever get the feeling, that you missed the boat? You fucked up, and it's too late to go back and fix it. You'll never get ahead of your problems, you'll never feel financially secure. You'll worry until you give yourself a stroke or a septic ulcer. You'll die, and leave behind a poverty stricken family, grieving and ashamed parents, or worse, people will just be glad you're gone.

Three shifts in a row cancelled at work, and I thought my numbers were up, I'm in the good. Christmas is coming, it'll be lean this year. We'll have some good food and all, but not much in the way of presents. That's ok though, it's just stuff. I feel worse about not being able to buy my family what I'd like to for them. I just can't afford it. I haven't really asked for much myself, just some pants. I don't feel like I need anything else really. I don't even want anything. I feel undeserving.

Fuck I hate this defeatist attitude shit. It's like, fuck off Marc, so what if you like to get drunk and you don't like to get close to people. It hurts when you try to change. Maybe stop trying to force yourself to meet others' expectations!

Oh me, but I don't want to disappoint my parents. What if I do something stupid? What if I get myself killed? I can't do that to them.

I want to get away, to get my own place again, but what if I just do the same shit? End up in the same hole I was in. I'll end up owing more money and in worse physical condition than I'm in now. Not to mention, with my shifts getting cancelled, it's not like I could afford it with my current employment.

*sigh*

But I don't want to change!

Well, I guess I do, but not too much. If I change my behaviour to blend in, is that lying to myself? It's like I don't even know what I want. Fucking TV has me convinced I want a super-model girlfriend, a sports car, and a job with a gun. I'm not so sure I'm cut out for any of that. I'd like to not worry so much. I could see a shrink and get some benzos for that probably, but would that leave me any better off? Or just numb to the fact I should be worrying?

"It's relentless,

Invisible,

Indefatigable,

Indisputable,

Undeniable,

So how come it looks so beautiful?"

Like the song aenima(I'm too lazy to get the ae blendy character), it seems to accept the eventual destruction of our creations, and perhaps even enjoy it. Something I can relate to. Listening to the radio, CBC, talking about plastic bags and advertising to children, in a comedic debate format. It was a little fucked. It's was funny at the time, but in retrospect, it's some serious shit to be joking about. This coming from the guy that enjoys a good cannibalism joke.

One remark that struck me was that advertising to children is like hunting; only one party really knows it's involved.

I think it's time for some nine inch nails. Warm-up with a little perfect drug. A little light listening before I dive into the fragile. Damn, need the new flash player. I must have a virus, no way that shit is updated this often. My computer is running so slowly. It's agonizing. I just want to hear a song. It would literally be over by now. While I'm waiting, Id like to vent about the Wii.

I am a brainwashed fanboy, but man, I wish Nintendo would make the Wii work a little better. How about updating the Internet channel now and then, so we can play videos on the tee-vee. And the friend codes, come on, so annoying. At least let us detect we friends using the same game, rather than needing a friend code for the console and each game. That's too much. And how about some chat? The Wii-speak best work well. Although, it's too late for call of duty.

And to the players of World of War for the Wii; you fucking morons! Get out of my way! When I stab you, that means move so I can fucking get outta here, you're blocking the only exit, and you're going to get us both killed with you incompetence. And don't vote to skip the level in the last 10 seconds, the whole point of skipping the level is to skip the 40 second intermission. We is some impatient mother-fuckers that play this game long enough to roll over our prestige. To explain further, when you vote to skip at the last second, it will reset the clock by about 20 seconds, making you wait again. If you vote quickly, you just skip the intermission, and go right to the 'game is starting' screen, where the names are already separated into teams. Then it's like 10 seconds to wait, 10 seconds to start the round, and you're back in action.

I fucking knew it! The video still won't open. Fucking flash. Fucking Windows. Fucking life. ARRGGHH!

But yeah, Call of Duty, that's a good way to kill some time. Fucking sharpens the mind. I beat the first head shot challenge for the kar98k or whatever it's called today. That was fun. Got my KDR over 1.0. It was low cuz I let my brother and his friend play a bunch one weekend. No worries though, it's not like I'm anywhere near the top ten.

There, got some nine inch nails going finally. Not working though, going to have to go right for the fragile I guess. "Where is everybody?". There we go. Crank it a bit. My ears don't work so well when I've been drinking. Or maybe I'm used to the super-hearing of being way high on weed. As mentioned previously, I'm drinking to reduce my smoking. It has other benefits as well, other side effects too.

Good and bad, like everything.

Lost in the song for a minute.

I know what's next. "Into the void".

I read recently about a plan to try and ignite the gas giants in our solar system. To try and build a second sun basically. And I've gotta say; it sounds interesting. Melt Europa or Titan, make another Earth, all ready for settling. What's the worst that could happen? Radiation overload? Life would evolve. Maybe not humans, but something would. Ok, maybe that's a pretty bad worst case scenario. Still, not so bad to totally give up on the idea.

Just some food for thought.

Saturn ascends indeed.

The crazy depressing songs of Trent Reznor always make me feel better about feeling bad. Not really feeling better, but that hey, I'm not that only one disappointed with myself, life, and the human race.

"Tried to save myself but my self keeps slipping away"

Time is a one-way street for all intents and purposes. What's grown crooked cannot be made straight, that was in a Thom Yorke song earlier I think. Maybe that explains why I can't straighten shit out. Can't put stuff together neatly. It doesn't fit neatly. Kinda abstract now, not totally sure what I mean. I will consult this in the future.

For now, I will conduct myself as usual. Trying to steer my actions in a harm reducing manner. I'm repeating myself, aren't I? There's no right answer but to proceed. Maybe choice is an illusion, doesn't mean the ride isn't fun. You don't steer the roller coaster, but you can still enjoy the ride.

trickle of thought

Don't you hate it when someone wakes you up like 5 minutes before your alarm clock goes off? I was like damn, you didn't hear it because it hasn't sounded yet. Then it's like, well, you're up now, can I have some weed? Here's a cold coffee.

Ten minutes later I'm not in such a bad mood. Or maybe I am. Friggin' drugs, can't tell where you end and they begin sometimes. Am I still cranky from Monday night? Or just last night? Or maybe I'm hungry. That'll make someone irritable.

"Excuses excuses, they all lead to nooses"

I think I'm quoting myself there.

Digitally compatible, there's a neat trick to sell the HDTVs.

Robots, always rubbin' it in my face.

Crashman's music is playing in my head now. Alright, maybe not all robots.

It seems like I'm trying not to think. If I think, I'll realize I've got to change something in my life for my life to change. I'm ignoring phone calls, not replying to emails and msgs, not reading, not even hardly watching. It's like this; I want a change, but I don't want to change. I don't even want to choose the change.

Do I even want a change? I'm not so sure anymore.

Maybe I'm just cowardly.

Which reminds me; is there a connection between trees and arbitration? I was thinking abut how we chose a tree as a target, just arbitrarily, just any old tree, but one tree to shoot at. I don't normally think the word 'arbitrarily', so that was odd, and the French word for tree is arbre. So, we chose an arbre arbitrarily, a tree otherwise normal, chosen for the situation at hand to be the designated target for the shooting session.

When researching the origin of the words arbiter and arbitration, one comes to the dead end of ad baetere, the Latin for 'to go', as the arbiter was the one that would go to settle a dispute. Bae, is the Latin for a palm branch though, so perhaps our translation is not entirely correct. A tree is also a definite line, a separator, one side and the other. Knock on wood. Smoke trees.

Were the first property lines just the imaginary lines between trees? Were trees our first gods?

Strange ponderings for a Thursday afternoon.

Oh, an there IS NO NINE IN THE AFTERNOON. That fucking song. Afternoon is over by 6. Then it's evening. Night would be acceptable. Then again, I don't really know the song, just that there is no 9 in the afternoon.

Why that bothers me, I don't really know. But it does. There's already a word for that time of day, fucking use it! It's evening! Night! It's getting dark, not moving past the noon-hour. Ok, I think I ranted that all out.

Thinking about taking a short train ride out of town next week. Not sure yet if I'll make it yet, as there's a good chance I'll 'wuss-out'. If I do go, I'll likely end up broke for a week when I get back. That shouldn't really affect my decision though.

Who are you kidding? Your not going anywhere. Your going to stay home and kick yourself for not getting out when you had the chance. You fucking loser.

What? I'm not cool like the devil?

Fuck no. You play the same riffs over and over on the guitar. You don't take advantage of people at every opportunity. You don't even have a tattoo.

Ha ha. Ok then, I guess I'm not cool. Crazed maybe.

Naturally. You are essentially conversing with yourself.

Oh, I'm well aware of that.

Well, enough of it.

Agreed. We're boring ourselves. Or is it self?

Let's stick with the singular.

stream of thought

Not too much on my mind now. Second load of DLC comes out for Megaman 9 today. Went 'drivin' that train' this weekend. Come down is hard, but I had the tools to cut it down.

Cabin-feverish a bit. Too much time at home. I don't want to go out drinking, but there's not much else to do. Maybe I'll go take in a movie this week. Unlikely, even as typed it, I thought of better uses for the money. I guess I'm a cheap-ass.

Gas went down, almost to a dollar a litre. Maybe I'll go drive around aimlessly for a while listening to CBC. I'm hungry. I burned my hand this weekend making breakfast. Grease-splash. Ouch. Drain the bacon grease before you put the eggs in.

So what am I doing these days? Well, I guess I'd say not much if prompted. I'm slowly paying down a credit line. I'm controlling my addictions(somewhat). I'm playing video games, watching tv and movies, trying to read but easily distracted. Working, I guess you'd say part-time, but it feels like more than that.

I hate when I try to talk about something, and the person I'm talking to starts talking to the dog or someone else or something. I just think, well shit, why do I even bother. I'll keep my interesting knowledge to myself. Good way to get murdered; don't share useful information.

Just because it sounds right or I say it with authority, doesn't mean it's true. Like correlation and causation; you might think you know what's going on, and come to find there's another variable you hadn't even considered. Hard to make a rule that takes into account exceptions. Not much of a rule really. "More of a guide-line really". Pirates.

And then they have the nerve to call data-copying 'piracy'. Like if we took a picture of a 21st century software-pirate and juxtaposed it with a high-seas gun-boat pirate, like those fuckers that stole a boat full of weapons in Indonesia. Now, tell me, why do we even bother with software pirates, when people with guns are stealing boats full of deadly weapons(link)? Why do we even use the same word to describe them? Is a stolen copy of windows going to hurt anyone? How about a burned-dvd? No? The artists must be traumatized when we take their work, is that it?

When a pirate takes your boat, and leaves you in the water to die, that is a serious crime. When Microsoft or Sony/BMG doesn't get their cut on a few bits of data that enter your home via a service you pay for every month, that is not even worthy of note.

Why does radio suck? Because the major recording labels bought the big stations and use them as twenty-four hour a day commercials for their products. 'An astral-media radio presentation'.

Maybe I just ask too many questions. Curiosity killed the cat, so they say. They also say cats of nine lives though, so, maybe they ought to be curious. Cats have 9 lives, like Megaman when he's full strength. Any video game with only one digit for lives actually. Probably no connection, but still interesting to note. "Cats have nine lives" might now mean something akin to "Cats are fully equipped" or "Cats can hack through the code"(allowing them to start with 9 lives). Old saying with a new meaning. "This cat, has nine lives".

Imagine if you had to use a regular encyclopedia instead of wikipedia. I don't know about you folks, but I look something up about ten times a day, and sometimes end up reading many many more articles in a single visit. Maybe I exaggerate, but not much. Would I bother to learn the truth if it required more work? Probably not as often.

Work day is done, time to smoke some fun.
\m/

stream of drink-thought-benadryl

Kid A is the 'Dark Side of the Moon' for my generation.
If it is for you and yours too, than we are of the same generation.

Basically, we was born in the 80's.

Fuck, If I only do acid one more time in my life, I hope it's at a radiohead concert.
I'm just drinking, smoking weed and taking benadryl, well, i guess just might be a little light.
So I'm mixing a lot, but it sounds great live.

I went to a tool show an acid. Awesome. I went on speed. I spent a lot of time fiending for a smoke and too sketched out too smoke because of all the security(real or imagined). Acid was better. I wish I had some for the Queens show in Halifax, that was awesome, but with some psychedelics, mmmMMMMMmmm. It woulda been unreal tasty.

I'm not bragging, but I'm not ashamed of myself.
I bought all my intoxicants. Cash-money style.
No one was hurt in getting them to me, or by my consumption of them.

Still, I may be hung over tomorrow. If so, that will be my punishment for my 'selfishness'.
Is it so selfish to want to get wasted at home on a Friday night?
I'm not blasting my music.
I'm not vomiting.
I'm not knocking things over.
Hell, I'm even typing quite well.

But in all seriousness, I've got some issues.
That I probably should...*glug glug glug*...

Hey, who's hungry?!

Ahhh, what a tasty beer!
Union made, in Saint John New Brunswick.
My birthplace.
I saw the light, *holds bottle up to light*, and the light was green.
Moose green.

Moosehead lager is my beer of choice, for those interested.
Yeah right eh?

*Gets another*

Mmmmm.

I'm sorry if this is boring to anyone who read this far, but this is basically a reflection of my current state of mind.

Radiohead is awesome.
I'm listening to Paranoid Android(Hitchhiker's).
Still good, over ten years old now.
That's right folks, we're that old.

"God loves his children yeah...."
\m/
Fuck yeah.
\m/

That's a hand doing the devil horns, for all you squares out there.
If you still don't know what I mean, you're so square you're a cube.

For the record, I never ate my snot in my life, unless I sniffed drugs.

Well, maybe in the winter, as a kid, I'd lick my lips and taste snot, but that's not intentional.

All over the place eh?

"Just 'cause you fell it, doesn't mean it's there"

So true.
*dances in a more holsom manner than devil horns*
Funny though, it is quite sinister.

It's like, a sinister environment puts me at ease.
At least my paranoia is well founded there.
Who am I kidding, I'm a wannabe paranoid.

Don't even say that! You don't want to be paranoid!

Well, you know what I mean, it's glamorous to have a second personality, and handy to blame all your careless deeds on. Which is why I don't subscribe to that line of thinking.

This is me talking to me, typing out my thoughts, for the benefit or entertainment of others. Thinking aloud, or almost.

Outer Monologue.

Fuck, I typed a bunch of great stuff, but I think I lost it.
God damnd drugs and alcohol.
They inspired me, but silenced me.

God, so much lost.
It hurts to think about, tiny tears form in the corners of my eyes.
I best end the post, before I lose this too.
-Marc

Rant until you nod off at the keyboard

I've been drinking this evening.
Though I don't feel inebriated.
I even took like 5 benadryl to boost.
I feel unusually confident and content.
Patient even.

And I wonder; should I be drinking every night?

It seems a foolish question.
Why would anyone want to put themselves through that.
Well, to function.


I seem to have retained my cognitive abilities.
Also, I feel not so god damned anxious.
That gets hard on the head after a while.
God I hope I don't get Parkinson's.

God twice in one paragraph, or stanza, I don't really know what to call this.
It doesn't Rhyme, no real plot to follow. Just a rant I guess.

Lots of great writers were hooked on the sauce.
I could probably deal with being a great writer, if I were so lucky.
I just feel lately like my confidence is shot.
A little cocaine, a few drinks, and I'm on top of the world.

But I crash hard.

I'll wake up feeling nervous already, like I've done something for which I should be ashamed.
I try and shake it off, hair of the dog is great, but often I ate the whole dog the night before.
So brush your teeth, make a strong coffee, and get to work. By the time I'm done, the alcohol is usually well out of my system, and I'm ready to go back to bed to hide for a while. Even when I remember the whole night, I still can't shake this feeling that I missed something or said something foolish or cruel while intoxicated. I even get so caught up in this guilt trip, that I'll act like a dick to anyone that interrupts my guilt. Thus, giving myself an actual reason to feel guilty.

But, if I could remain semi-buzzed until after work, then hit it hard, and get some side-work done, writing et cetera, then I could quit my day job if any of it worked out. But then what, stuck on the bottle, dependent on inebriant inspiration. What's worse, I'd potentially have the cash flow and free time to do myself some serious damage. Right-Brain sez; perhaps the reason I remain financially insecure is for this very reason. If I had more money, I'd do more drugs. If everything happens for a reason, that's a pretty good reason to keep me broke. My very life may dependent on my remaining strapped for cash.

It makes me smile, what a good justification for not trying; if I succeeded, I'd probably fuck myself up. Mentally, physically, emotionally, spiritually, all of that. I can't trust myself with money. That's a little sad, but I can't really feel it. Thanks to the inebriants of the night.

Moderation still seems to be the way to go, for the time being.
But, as Josh Homme said in an interview,
"Moderation in everything, including moderation"

Now, the benadryl disconnects my thoughts, as though they are getting farther and farther apart. I can almost see the coil of rope at my feet as I reel in the next thought.

Events appear on the horizon to me now; the future a blur in front of me.
Blurry though it is, I see there is much of it yet. I cannot say this is real, but I can see no reason to be frightened by it either. A vague something is better than a definite nothing, at least for a while. This may be useful knowledge for future psychedelic excursions.

I am drawn deeper into myself now, the outside world is becoming less and less interesting. It is almost time for sleep.

Yawning now.

May random find you well.

rant rant rantity rant

I sometimes forget that i am a human being,
I think of myself more as a mind than a body.
Not that my body is hideous, but it seems to be distraction from intellectual matters.
Universal times zones, zones based on sun size, then a planet zone based on orbital year or seasonal year etc, Maybe that's the block in space exploration; if gravity is different on mars(for example), and space and time are related in that increased gravity increases subjective time passage in relation to a standard earth gravity at sea-level(or whatever, never finished my degree), and vice versa.

Heck, even a tiny planet could, for example, feel regular to us, but we would seem to be moving either remarkably fast or slow.
***
I came back five minutes later and read the last line, no idea, one moment...

I see, I went way off-topic. But I do feel sometimes, like mind is impenetrable,
Like those people that receive neurological damage resulting in the inability to speak coherently.
Maybe they understand perfectly well, and, as anyone would, take advantage of their situation. I am not saying these individuals do not deserve diligent care, but simply, i can't blame them for trying to make the best of a good thing. Nurse pinching, jacking off inappropriately, holding out for the sexy sponge bath nurse.

...
What the fuck am I even thinking about, god damn drugs, so fun, but so weird sometimes.
-Agent of Truth

UPDATE: The following day; I do not remember writing this post at all. (Fixed some typos) Some of the thoughts expressed are clearly mine, but I do not remember writing this. Valium affects memory. I will in time more thoroughly discuss the topics within. Transhumanism, mmmmm.