~that time again

I'm annoyed. My hot water has been off all day.

I'm tired. I feel overwhelmed, and too oversensitive.

I'm having one of those days where I wish I could...

I don't know. I don't know what the hell I wish anymore.

Everything is annoying me, even my blog.

Maybe I just need sleep.

Here we go... up the hill...

~Up To My Waste

Couldn't fall asleep until 6AM, this morning. Not good. I'm due for my shot today, and I'm scared that if I take it, I REALLY won't be able to sleep.

I'm worried about the food in the fridge... I always feel guilty if I have to throw food out... I just haven't been that hungry lately... now Cutter's produce section is starting to go.

It's funny how that works... worrying about "wasting" food. I suppose that our parents and grandparents did a good job. In "The Depression" or during "The War", it made sense. Now though, it makes absolutely none. The same thing with "wasting" water.

Here's a bit of truth... Generally speaking, in the USA, you can't "waste" food or water. What you waste, is MONEY. Food biodegrades and ultimately feeds something else. Water evaporates, and then falls back down to us.

...but here I sit... feeling guilty. I think that I need to put a big ol' sign up in my kitchen to remind myself...

"HOW DARE YOU NOT THROW THAT OUT! DON'T YOU KNOW THAT THERE ARE INSECTS STARVING TO DEATH AT THE LANDFILL?!"

~Heil Filter

Just checked the mail. Been in bed all morning... too depressed to risk writing. Had a nap... dreams were vivid.

It's warm out. Unseasonable.

A neighbor, or maybe the aide of a neighbor, was walking by as I went to check the mail. I said hello. I then thought about how racist I am... being that he's black, and so of course, I actually smiled and said "hello", rather than just grunting and nodding. The more I go through life, the more I realize this... If you're not white, I like you more upon first sight, than if you are. I guess it's a combination of things... the "minority" thing, and the fact that most white people suffer from that privilege virus. Snootyitus. They're fake... shallow... spoiled... programmed. I like some white people on first sight... enough to say hello... white people with lots of old tattoos, white people who are extremely overweight, white people in wheelchairs, white people who look like they know... that despite the color of their skin, they're still "minorities". The Judged. The Pre-labeled.

I want nothing to do with my next door neighbor... or with the majority of my neighbors in the complex... but downstairs, I think I saw a black woman. I want to be her friend.

She might have stories to tell... she might judge me, but that's ok. I'm sure that, in many ways, I have indeed had it easier than her. She's from another time... and she has black skin. My shit? My shit ain't nuthin'. I can wear sleeves over my skin colors, if I have to. I can avoid doctors and bathrooms and cops and hospitals... and anyone who may harm me due to what my body looks like, if I have to. If someone does harm me... times have changed, and still are changing. I can fight... I can run my mouth, in certain places, and not get beat for it. I can blend. I can fake it, if I have to. The old lady downstairs?... she doesn't just act like she knows... she actually does know. She knows what it's like to have to... and more than that... she knows what it's like to have to, and not be able to.

I've made a lot of assumptions about the woman... just based on her skin color. That makes me racist.


The aide just walked by my window. I'm almost sure he must be an aide. He has a walkman on... and he's singing to himself... walking back and forth to the washing machines. My window is open, so I can hear him singing quite well...

"If you gave me half a chance you'd see
My desire burning inside of me..."


You go girl.


--------------------------------------

p.s. - I'm sexist as well as racist. People who look like they are "women" get an immediate extra point too. That just crossed my mind, so I figured I'd add it in. Not that the aide did. He was quite manly in appearance, until I recognized the song he was singing, and from one FAG to another, I had the right to post what I did.

If you're born a "female", or if you are in any way seen as one... you know. ...and this... I know.

~Aisle Rage

Great, ~blog is down. I always love it when ~blog is down.

Today was an odd day. I managed to get showered (I was beginning to think about just using a paint scraper), and I managed to go to the foodstore and out for lunch, with my friend. It went ok, I guess. I got testy in the foodstore. I couldn't walk very well. My legs kept locking. Some BITCH decided she would just about knock me over with her cart. It REALLY pissed me off. Then, the other BITCH behind her followed her lead, and too, just about knocked me over. BITCH 2 actually worked in the damn store! I did good though. I kept my trap shut until they were out of earshot. ...but then, in line, after I'd just ran my yap about BITCH 1 and BITCH 2, another CUNT decided she'd apply for the BITCH 3 position, cutting me off as I tried to get into line. She got the job.

I did good. I actually did, pretty much, keep my yap shut, until my friend and I got out of the store, but then I ranted. I didn't get in anyone's face, even though I desperately wanted to.

I'm used to assholes. The world is full of them. Problem is, I'm used to being able to dodge them. Now, I'm off balance, slow, and blurry eyed. I can't play the bob and weave game like I used to. One of these days, some asswipe is going to knock me down, and Nessie is going to crack someone's shins.


Lunch was nice, but I couldn't eat much. Not good. When Cutter cannot eat all of his sushi, all is not right in Cutter's world. I didn't even order that much. My stomach has been off for days now. Nothing much going in, and too much of nothing solid coming out, if you know what I mean.

It was nice spending some time with my friend. ..and I suppose it was healthy to get out. Every now and again, seeing the world for what it is, is a good thing. I get spoiled online. I start thinking that everyone is going to be nice, and intelligent, and respectful... I get used to thinking that I can just point and click the assholes away. Real life ain't like that though. In real life, there is no off switch or shrinking of the window. There are just too many pieces of shit floating around in the gene pool.

...but then, there are people like my friend... so I guess it's not all bad. I'm glad that, in the gene pool, she has a life raft. (She's not a floater, like the turds are. ;))

Guess I'll take my grumpy ass back to bed. ~blog is back up. It must be a sign.

~Cutting it out

I feel slightly present... enough to attempt this. It's rare, but it happens.

ok... here goes...

The first time I cut myself, I was about 10 years old. I used my step-father's penknife. I told my mother I'd scraped it on the corner of the bed frame. Why did I cut? Why did I cut my face? Well... I wanted to be G.I. Joe. G.I. Joe had a cut on his face.

It just sort of went from there... the cutting. I used to cut crosses into my palms a lot. I'm sure there's a lot I can tell about the psychology behind that, but I'm also sure that I don't feel like typing it all out.

If nothing else, cutting was all about proving my masculinity. There was punching things too, which I did, often, but slices were even tougher looking than a fucked up hand... and besides, I was a musician.

My identification as a "psycho" was just a by-product of the cuts. I was fine with psycho, at least people were less apt to describe me as "feminine".

As the years wore on, I found that cutting provided me with many things. It is a rather effective attention getter... and does help in the "unique" arena. Too, it was an effective way to transfer pain... to create physical pain to mirror the emotional or invisible pains.

The worst it ever got was in '94. From neck to ankles, I was a slashed up mess. I went into the hospital.

I knew that there was something wrong with my brain. I kept telling people that. I told people "I HURT". No one really questioned why. They were content calling me a psycho. All getting the DID label did for me was alleviate some of the responsibility from me. I didn't cut myself. No, that was one of the "cutters" in my system. Right. Whatever.

So, I dissociated. When I was in the "there's something wrong with my brain! I hurt!" place, I played the "stop your bitching, or I'll really give you something to bitch about" game. Invariably, I always did give myself something... and I kept doing so. I went from cutting and beating up walls to whipping myself with chains, and burning myself, more pain... more pain. Problem was that it never really worked. I still hurt. No matter how much self injury, how much therapy, or how many meds.... it didn't work.

I don't cut as much as I used to. I certainly don't need it to prove my masculinity anymore. I have tattoos to make my religious points. Now it's just about transference. It's the "You think that hurts?! How about this?!" game. ...or, sometimes, it's punishment. I play abusive parent to myself... and the rules are pretty twisted.

I don't remember the last time I cut. I know that when I got to Montana, I did... a couple of times. Since being in Massachusetts, I think I did once or twice. Knowing that I have MS... that helps. At least now I know that there really IS something wrong with my brain... and I know that I really don't need to cut... all I have to do is flash my MRI in order for people to believe me that I'm hurting.

Multiple Sclerosis... that means "many scars". I have many scars. Inside, and out. Visible and not. I suppose life hasn't been too kind to me.

...but I'm a Cutter. I'm THE Cutter. I'll not pretend to be someone I'm not, nor would I even want to be in a place where I have to hide from my past. I may have slashed myself to ribbons over the years, but I'm still here to talk about it. Cutting obviously worked for me.

One day, I'll have covered everything that can possibly hurt me, and nothing will scare me anymore. Did I mention that I suffer from paranoia? If I simply hurt myself, then I don't have to fear anyone else hurting me any worse. Right? I'm a cutter. You can't hurt me any worse than I can hurt myself... than I have hurt myself.

Someone could kill me, I suppose, but then... well, I'm working on that.

In the end, I want to be able to honestly say, "I fear nothing."

Nothing. Perhaps I fear that most of all.
______________________________________

I feel myself starting to slip now... the spiral. I wrote the above a few hours ago... now, I'm starting... falling. I figured I'd post it. I don't know how far down this spiral goes.

~allergic to idiots

I'm still feeling sort of dazed. Had to put myself out, last night. Took some old meds. I'll probably be feeling the fallout for a couple of days. Ativan does that... makes me depressed for a couple of days after. That can be dangerous, so I try to stay away from it, even though it helps get me to sleep sometimes. I told the doctor about that, when I went to the ER, back in December. Somehow, it ended up on my chart that I was "allergic" to it. What the fuck? Right. A medication I've been on for about 10 years... I'm allergic to it. It's amazing what they'll list as an "allergy". Mophine makes me break out in a rash. ok... I'll accept "mildly allergic". Nothing to sweat though. If I was allergic to it, after 3 days of it in an IV drip, I'd be dead, not itchy. Tetracycline makes me think that I'm dead. I can accept "allergic" for that. Codeine? Nope. I once took Tylenol3 and got some REALLY horrible stomach cramps. Allergic? I don't know... but I do know that I'm NOT allergic to EVERYTHING with codeine in it, or which has a codeine base. Allergic to Ativan? That is the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard.

I miss my doctor. I had a REALLY good doctor in Philly. He listened to me. He didn't judge me. I felt like he actually cared. I don't care if he didn't really care. If he didn't, he faked it well, and that's what matters. If you don't give a fuck, as a doctor, FAKE IT. I think that's what they used to call "bedside manner".

If I can ever travel again, I'd like to take a trip to Philly. I'll stop in at his office and say hello.

936am112705

(reply to a comment in "Not Friday")

...Better than last year. I can see out of the right one. That's a definite plus.

359pm112605 ~comment

(replied to comment in "Not Friday")

Ordinarily, I'd make soup... but I can't stand that long. Not that I'm really a soup fan, bit I'm ANTI wasting food. I threw the carcass in the (sort of open) dumpster. The kitties will thank me. Turkey flavor. I think I'm done for, at least, a month.

~Not Friday

Day after day... writing... complaining... waiting... killing time...

Felt like crap today. A lot of problems with pain and nausea. I have no appetite. Then, maybe it's just from eating Turkey for 4 days in a row. Maybe I bored my stomach to death.

I need to get a shower. I don't remember when my last one was. Wednesday... according to this blog. Shows how on top of things I am. Up until a second ago, I would have sworn it was Friday. It's Saturday. It's a "holiday weekend". Whatever. Means nothing to me. Less activity online, I suppose.

I keep thinking back to last year. What an awful time. My eye was going. I was living in the house equivalent of HELL. That really did scare me, the whole eye thing. All of it scared me... I scared me.

It's been one hell of a year. I'm, honestly, amazed I made it. I suppose I'm glad I did. I guess I feel like I did some good somehow.

I did my best. I think.

~Fired

Fire.

I think about fire a lot.

Fire, like my temper.
Fire, like when I was a kid.
Fire, like the end of my smoke.
Fire, like the end of my body.

I get scared, with the MS. True, I've slept through smoking. The cigarette has burned my fingers, and I woke up, but I never dropped one. Once, I dropped it down the back of my shirt, while scratching my back... funny I should have that memory... I have that shirt on today. It's Ren & Stimpy... before they were even licensed to sell. I think it's from '91. It was the first day I wore it... my girlfriend, at the time, had bought it for me. I was pissed at myself.

Thinking on it, I did drop one once. ...and of all things, I was sleeping on an air mattress. That's a fucking hysterical story. BIG oops.


I burn myself a lot, while I'm drinking. All of a sudden, I realize I'm burning my fingers. I usually throw the cigarette onto the ground, or floor... and quickly pick it up.

A while back, I gave burning myself a try. That was a rough year. It was pretty cool though... something new... painful as fuck, but a different pain than cutting or whipping... I went into the hospital that year. Never fear.

Right... Fire. I was thinking about fire...

I met a guy, recently, who used to smoke, before the MS took his hands away.

Fuck the writing. The day I can't hold my cigarette, I'm outa here.

Fired.

~onward

I didn't take the Seroquel last night, and I didn't take a Valium. I had 2 beers, and did ok. I think I fell asleep around 4 or so. Got in a few hours.

I'm feeling A LOT better today. I even took out my trash. No more Seroquel for me. That shit is officially on my "evil" list. I feel sick, but I'd rather feel sick than sick and comatose.

There's a "Law & Order" marathon on TNT today.

I'm good to go.

woohoo

This is me, living.

Effort (part 2)

I guess that people prioritize. I know that's what I do. I only have a certain amount of energy, and I spend it on what I consider to be the most important to me. These days, I find myself choosing between things like bathing and reading.

Being uninterested in life... I get like that sometimes. I call it "the no points". I suppose that it's technically "depression", but with me, sometimes it only lasts for a few hours.

~Sick and Tired

I ended up taking the Seroquel last night. The side effects just got me to a place where I couldn't deal. When it wears off, I get pissed off. I just couldn't deal, so I took it. Tonight, I think that I'll pop a Valium if the rage gets too bad. Another day like today and I'm gonna snap. What little functionality I do have, I value. I'm not going to toss it out the window for a drug that seems to be doing nothing positive, and too much negative. If Neurodude wants to try me on Neurontin (How conceited, to name a drug after himself like that!) again, we can discuss it at my next appointment. I need a break from all the drugs.

Though, on just the Inderal, I ended up having to go to the ER. I don't want to have to do that again. I HAVE to be able to sleep. I just don't want to be a gork 23 hours a day.

The reality is that, more and more often, it's looking like gorkdom is the way I'll have to spend my life. That fact isn't sitting well with me. I don't think that I can do it.

When I say that I'm tired, it's not just that I'm physically tired. I'm tired on all levels. I'm tired of living a life where it takes all my energy just to exist. It's an effort to bathe. It's an effort to eat.

I push myself to write. I'm alive. I want to DO something. If writing is all I can handle, then so be it... but if I lose the ability to do that? Fucking shoot me. If I can't make it to this here computer, then my life is done. This is what I do. It's how I fool myself into thinking that I matter. I'm not going to take a drug that will cause me to be unable to do this. It's scary enough dealing with a disease that might.

Sick of being tired, and tired of being sick.

Effort (part 1)

Right now, my effort goes into my blog. I used to give A LOT of effort to this board. Now?.... Well, why should I? No one really comes here anymore. I can't make any sort of difference. If I have any energy, I need to give it to what really matters. What really matters.... Yeah. I don't have much energy at all. What I have, I prefer to give to that which makes me feel worth something. The more people read my blog, the more I feel like I'm actually making a difference on this planet.

Effort. That's what it's all about, I suppose. If it takes work, you're making a difference.... you're changing the world... and it's worth it.

~numbers

Well, here's a new one...

Today, I woke up and saw some numbers on the cable box. They made no sense to me. It took almost a minute until they made sense.

It was the time.

-----------------------------------------

10AM - after I wrote the above -

I close the laptop and figure I may as well get back into bed.

Jingle Bells is on next door. It's festive, yet annoying.

Then, I peek out my window...


IT'S SNOWING!!!!!!!


WOOOOOOOOHOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!

Happy Winter!!!

~I want to just say no

Ok, this is the problem...

I have problems with my memory from the MS. I have High Blood Pressure and I have debilitating migraines, but I don't know if that's from the MS or not. I take Inderal. Inderal causes memory loss. Without the Inderal, I'll get the migraines, still have some memory problems, and my Blood Pressure will spike. With the Inderal, I'll not get some of the more intense migraines, be ok with the Blood Pressure, and have even more memory loss troubles. After I thought about it for a while tonight, I realized that even before the Inderal, I was having pretty severe memory problems... so the Inderal might have nothing to do with it. I should probably just stay on it, if it's helping with the Blood Pressure and some of the migraines. I still get migraines, but while on the Inderal, I don't get the HOLY HELL ones for more than a day or so. Without it, they can go on for a week.

The Seroquel sucks ass. Like other anti-psychotic meds, with me, when it wears off, I get ANGRY. Before it wears off I'm all but bedridden.

I feel like shit. I feel worse now than I did before I started the Seroquel. I want to stop taking the Seroquel. If I do though, then I have to deal with Neurodude accusing me of not cooperating... and he'll want to try the Neurontin, for pain, again.

I'm just sick of all of the drug crap. If pot were legal...


Do I take the Seroquel again tonight? Just so I can tell Neurodude that I tried long enough? Do I just lie?

I'm tired of hurting! I'm tired of being tired! I'm fucking sick and tired of getting angry for no fucking reason!!!!

My stomach hurts. I think that I have to go back to light beer. All I'm managing tonight is a cup of wine (Sangria). I'm trying to calm down... catch my breath... put things into perspective.

I hate feeling stupid.

(Propranolol )

...on second thought... I was having problems before the Inderal.

~It figures

I'm VERY angry right now.

Apparently, the Inderal I take every day has been proven to cause short term memory loss.

Fuck me.

So, I get to choose... I can get blood pressure migraines and just deal, or not get blood pressure migraines and forget that I'm supposed give a shit.

Fun stuff.

I'll have to talk with Neurodude about this, if I can remember to.

~as usual

I'm not feeling too well today. Last night was bad, and all day today. I finally got a break from the "oh shit, this hurts" cycle in the last hour or so. Took the trash out. Got my first shower since Sunday, I think it was. My head is still hurting, and my right leg. My ears are ringing and oversensitive. My eyes are having trouble focusing. My stomach is messed up. ...but, I'm sitting up, dressed, and out of bed... at least, for now.

I don't know that this is medication related, but the fatigue is way too much. I don't think that I want to continue taking this Seroquel... it doesn't seem to be doing any good. It's like a lot of other psych meds... it doesn't stop you from being angry, it just stops you from acting on that anger. Not much you can do if you can barely keep your eyes open.

ouch

I need to get back in bed.

537am112305 ~comment replies

(in "the truth")

- When my brain gets busy, I don't have you folks. Nothing is real to me. Life becomes completely abstract. It may as well be a bad movie I'm watching. :\

(in "low energy")

- That thought does occur to me, that it's widely read, and that makes me smile. The feeling that I might be making a difference in anyone else's life is what keeps me going, some days.

~the truth

I've nothing to lose.

This scares me.

536pm112205 ~comment reply

(replied to comment in "low energy")

I often have dreams that ARE movies. Even if I'm in them. When they're over, I see credits, and a curtain closing at the end. Art imitating life? Life imitating art?

~low energy

I'm still half asleep. A lot of people commented on my last few blog entries, and the comments were very much appreciated. I just feel too damn shitty to reply to all of them. Sometimes it's just like that... I read them, and reply in my head while I'm reading them, but then when it comes to actually typing the reply, it just doesn't happen. Same thing happens with e-mail. Sometimes I can reply, most times, because I already have replied in my head while reading it, it doesn't come out again. In a way, I suppose, it's like saying the same thing twice. Takes energy to read, takes energy to think, takes energy to write. Some days, I'm just too low on energy, no matter how I actually feel.

All that to say "I'm sorry" for not replying to comments more often. I do like when people comment, and I don't want my lack of reply to cause people to stop.

I'm really tired. I'm hoping that this here cup of coffee will wake me up a little. My dreams were VERY vivid again, last night/this morning. I like when they're vivd. It's like a vacation from life.

I had a thought, upon waking from one of them, because in it, one of the themes was, trying to find somewhere to lay down to go to sleep.

If we fall asleep in a dream, what happens?

Nov. 21, 2005

It's just so much easier to type. Hopefully I'll get a printer soon. When I do, I think that I'll gut the spiral, and just keep going with the folders.

I'm cooking a turkey... A2's coming over in a while. It will be nice to have company for the meal. I decided not to go over there for actual Thanksgiving. I just don't think that it'd be a good idea. I'm too sick. It's too crazy there.

I remember last Thanksgiving... being in Montana... the hell of it all. The only thing nice about it was the actual State. I liked the air, and the deer (but not the deer poop), and the mountains... it's a beautiful place.

I'm worried that I'm not going to enjoy this meal which I'm making. I'm VERY tired... and my nose is off, so I can't tell if anything is any good. MS sucks.

So fucking tired...

I hate this new medication, Seroquel. I go back and forth between motor-mouth and complete jello.

Montana... KR... the illusion... the delusion. Sometimes I drift back to it... want to call her... recapture that delusion. I know that it is... was a delusion... but I still want it. I want it the way it should have been... not the way that it actually was. Sort of like mom... Sometimes I miss her, but I know that it's not her... it's some sort of delusional idealized character I created.

I'm so tired....

I want my mommy.

227pm112105 ~comment

I commented in "blabbering too much today"

I like cooking :) My best friend is coming over to join me. This is a good thing. I will enjoy the company. I just hope that it tastes ok... my nose is really off. :\

~blabbering too much today

I'm really tired. I made the stuffing, and put the turkey into the oven. It took 3 hours to do. I don't think that anything is going to turn out right. The bread smelled a little off, but I couldn't tell for sure. My nose is off... and I need my nose to cook well. I feel like I need to go to bed, but I can't. In an hour or so, I have to start the whole basting game.

I'm trying to understand this whole MS thing, and I'm getting nowhere fast. No one understands this disease... not the patients, not the public, not the doctors, and not the scientists. I go through days where I feel like I'm going to drop dead any minute, and then a few hours later, I'm feeling sort of ok. It's like a rollercoaster. Yes, MS can kill you. Is it killing me? Yes... but how quickly, I don't know. I could have another 30 years of this hell.

Maybe I should just count on reincarnation... find a pregnant woman that I like... that I think would be a good mother, with a husband that I think would make a good father, and then just off myself and aim.

I'm just so damn tired.

~Stuff It

ok, here's the recipe...

---

You need:

4 stalks celery
11 oz. scallions
about 1 1/2 loaves of white bread (family size)
turkey giblet pack
2 sticks butter
salt, pepper, garlic powder
------------------------------------------
rinse and chop celery and scallions very small
- put tops and cut offs (celery leaves, wilty scallion tips, etc.) into a pot

- put a bandaid on the blister
- sit down for a minute

- try not to lose bandaid while prying open the still frozen turkey

- watch your language

- retrieve the giblets

If your turkey doesn't come with giblets, use turkey liver, if you can find it
(If you're violently opposed to eating organ meat, cook them anyway, and just skip adding them in (see below))
- put them into the pot with the tops and cut offs
- fill pot with water and start boiling


- Melt 1 stick of butter into a pot (spaghetti pot should do)
- add celery and scallions
- cook on low
- add another stick of butter after about 15 minutes
- keep cooking, covered, until celery is soft (keep checking and stirring)
- uncover
- add salt, pepper, garlic powder (to taste)

- while all that's going on, start breaking bread. Don't eat the bread, just break it.
Personally, I cut the bread, rather than breaking it. It's faster.
Start with about a loaf and a half, but have extra on hand
It should be like Wonder Bread, only "Butter Top", and make sure it's fresh.
Stale bread, even a day old, will kill the whole thing. Try to get the bread on the same day you use it.
Basically, if it would make a good tasty bread ball, it should make for good, tasty stuffing

- do not drop cigarette ashes into bread
that sucks

- Retrieve the cooked giblets from the pot, save the stock.
- mince them (people usually don't like organ meat, so mince them to one step above pâté. (is that how you spell that?))
- mix in with the cooked greens
- turn the greens off (don't even go there)

- Stir/fold in the bread

- Take breaks.
Your wrist will hurt tomorrow.

The end product should be almost "doughy"... it should stick together
- Keep mixing until you can't see bread chunks, and it's not looking too green
- If it's too wet, add bread. If it's too dry, add stock

- Kill turkey
(If turkey is already dead, cursing should do)

- Stuff some stuffing into turkey

- curse at the turkey

- discover what 25 feet of foil looks like rolling across your kitchen floor

- curse at the foil

- put leftover stuffing in fridge for later, but eat some. dinner is a long way off.

- curse at the turkey again

- Don't kill Cutter.

- Change your bandaid.

- Have a cigarette and think about a beer.
------------------------------------------
Serves: a lot of hungry people, but it doesn't serve itself.
Cooking and prep. time: 3 fucking hours
------------------------------------------

I'm outa here. Bunny told me to go blow when I asked if he would do the dishes, Nessie kicked me, and Harold gave me the finger.

~In Dreams

My mother was in my dream last night. I don't remember the exact details of the dream... something about my sister having another baby... his name was something like "Rushdor".

Sometimes, despite everything, I miss my mother. The trouble is that the mother I miss never really existed. It's this idealized version of her... not the real her. Maybe that's part of the problem... she wants to see me the way she wants me to be... that's the me she likes. Neither one of us can deal with the reality of the other.

640a112105 ~comment

I commented in "Faster"

I thought about it more this morning. I think that it didn't help that I had an extra cup of coffee yesterday. I'll see what happens today.

638am112105 ~comment

I commented in "zoned"

Harold is struggling along. All the moving around took its toll on him, but he's doing his best. He's doing better now than he was. :)

~Faster

I don't think that I like this new medication too much. I can't describe exactly how it makes me feel... but I don't feel right. I feel drugged. It's not doing anything for pain, that's for sure. In fact, I've been getting a few new ones... right ear, right hand, funky headache. Sleep, not that I can really notice, but I have felt horrible both mornings after taking it. I promised myself that I'd give it, at least, a week. If there's nothing positive going on as a result of it, then I'll stop.

I told Neurodude that if this Seroquel doesn't work, I'll try the Neurontin again, but in all honesty, I don't know that I will. I hate pills. My stomach is already upset from taking Inderal every day. Pills and I just don't get along. The Seroquel seems to be messing with my stomach, but I'm not sure it's the Seroquel, so I can't blame it yet. I've always had a bad stomach... ever since I was born, actually... and what I've done to it over the years hasn't helped. Pain killers, drinking, stress, and various medications just don't make for a healthy stomach lining. Shoot, I puked most of my stomach lining away by '99.

Cutter USED to drink lots of dark beer... then Cutter realized that what was in the bowl was not "tomato skins". I'm back to drinking crappy beer now (Natural Ice), because of price, but I don't drink near as much as I used to. Actually, I haven't had any beer in the last 2 days. Just a cup of wine last night, and a shot of Vodka with Tomato juice (yes, ACTUAL tomato juice) tonight.

My average with beer, these days, is about 3 a day. That's a lot less than 12 to 15. Money and stomach problems aren't the only reason though... it's also the fact that I only have one pair of pants that fit comfortably. Yes, they currently STINK. There's a joke that guys only have one pair of jeans, and just rotate t-shirts. I currently fall into that stereotype. Who the hell can afford jeans? Fuck that! Do you know how many beers that is? (Sorry, couldn't resist.) Seriously though, the ones I'm wearing right now are the only ones that fit ok. I don't get to do laundry too much either. Two washers, two dryers, 36 apartments, and a disease that makes me completely fatigued. I'm glad that I have a lot of t-shirts.

I just had to go back through this entry and form paragraphs. The original was one BIG paragraph... and I know how that can be tough to read. Just know that the above was one continuous train of thought. If I were speaking to you, I wouldn't have taken a breath, and I wouldn't have let you get a word in edgewise.

I don't know if that's a good sign, or a bad one. Does that mean that my brain is working well, or that my thoughts are racing?

It's after 8. Maybe last night's Seroquel is wearing off. I don't like that thought. What that means is that I'm starting to NEED the Seroquel... that if I don't take it, my brain will go faster and faster and faster, and I'll take the drug just to stop it. That's what happens. The body gets addicted. That's why I hate Psych meds.

I'll shut up now. The way I feel, this rant will go on for... hours? pages? inches? feet? How do you say that in "blog speak"?

Somebody call the Vet. The crow's on crack!

~Transgender Day of Remembrance

Wanted to post a link to what it's all about. Please click, if you have a heart.

My rage has many sources. This issue is one of them.

~zoned

Trying to take advantage of the end of the up-swing of my shot time. Took the trash out. Scraped the fur off of my head. Took a shower. Fun stuff. woohoo. joy. Tomorrow, I need to cook the turkey I bought. That should be interesting.

I feel zoned. I'm not quite jello, but I'm wobbly and unfocused enough to be annoyed. There was something I wanted to write about, but I lost it within the last 15 minutes, or so.

The football game is on. I think that Bunny got bored watching it and fell asleep. I don't blame him.

~CNN and Multiple Sclerosis propaganda (cont'd)

My problem isn't with the people with a "milder" disease course, it's with the media, and with people like Terri Garr who misrepresent this illness to the public. She actually gets paid to be a spokesperson. I think that it's only fair to expect her to speak about the disease in a non-biased, non-accusatory manner.

It's not that I think RRMSers have it good, it's that I think CNN should have shown a full picture of this disease, not just one type, or one aspect of it. Yes, people need to see the ones who are functioning with it, but they also need to see the ones who are not, or at the very least, be informed that this disease has a few different faces.

It is true that Terri Garr is paid to make a drug look good. I guess I just wish that along with doing that, she wouldn't make so many other people with MS look bad... including people taking that drug, for whom it's only doing a little bit of good, but actually helping.

~not yet

The Seroquel didn't kill me.

Just letting you know.

~outa here

I should go to bed now. I should take the new meds... hope they stop this rage... hope they stop the PAIN.

I don't care if it's justified or not... it's RAGE. FUCK the pain!

Maybe the new med will help.


Maybe, in a few hours, I won't care anymore. any more.

Is that one word, or two?


FUCKKKKK!!!!!!

~CNN and Multiple Sclerosis propaganda

My thoughts on tonight's episode of "Larry King Live" on CNN...


1. FUCK YOU
2. Thank you, CNN, for showing the 30 seconds of Richard Pryor.
3. That was the most OFFENSIVE piece of media CRAP I've seen about MS... EVER.


I'm beyond mad, right now.


...but hey, that's probably just my "negative attitude".


WE DON'T ALL HAVE RRMS. WE DON'T ALL HAVE MONEY, OR FAMILIES, OR JOBS.

Some of us have had our lives RUINED by this disease.

Some of us don't GET to choose whether or not to be PERKY.

Some of us can't calm down long enough to write to CNN to bitch about it.


...and as for Terri Garr, right now, I hope she gets a big fat lesion tomorrow, and drops DEAD... and takes the rest of those perky, one sided assholes with her.


Not All Of Us Have A Choice!!!!!

We don't all have the same parts of our brains affected!!!!

We don't all have RRMS!

To some of us, IT'S HELL!


It's not always about how we deal with MS... to some of us, it's how MS deals with us.

What I watched tonight made me want to slit my throat. It was one sided, damaging to people like me who are actually going down FAST from this disease.

...the first thing that went were my cognitive skills... and whatever part of my brain controls right from wrong.

I had RAGE like you've NEVER seen... I wanted to break EVERY law you'd never DARE think of having broken.

I'm NOT in jail, due only to what control I DID have. I CLUNG to that... DESPERATELY.

I still feel it... still WANT it... to just act on those impulses...

but I don't... I don't DARE.

Why?

Because I know that I have a DISEASE.

The brain controls EVERYTHING... even RIGHT from WRONG.

I'm SICK.

I know I'm sick, and I STRUGGLE.

Lesions don't only affect people's ability walk, talk, or see... they affect people's ability to not skin their mother with a butter knife!!!!!

For hell's sake!!!! This disease is REAL. It's not just... oops, my leg feels numb!!!!!!!!!!!

It's not that I don't have sympathy for people whose legs go numb, but SHIT... that's NOT what this disease is all about!!!! It's about the BRAIN!

~Thanks

It's early, and I'm still tired... but that's ok. Today, thanks to my best friend, I'm going to the food store. Today, I can afford to go to the food store and actually get enough food. Today, I can get some good food. I'm thinking that maybe I'll get a Turkey, and stuffing ingredients. I'll hope to be able to cook it well.

This feels good, yet a little sad. The fact that I can afford decent food shouldn't be a cause for festivities. Although I think that no one should take affording decent food for granted, the fact that it's such a rare feeling in my life is sad. The fact that 9 months of back money is what it took in order for me to afford this is sad. The fact that despite that money I'll still be poor, is really sad. The fact that there are a lot of people who have it much worse, in this country, is really, really sad.

I'm grateful that I have this money... that there is a such thing as Social Security, and that society has progressed to the point where they no longer give lobotomies... Don't get me wrong there. It's just sad that in a country as "rich" as this one is, the highlight of my (and other people's) year is being able to afford a Thanksgiving turkey, which will be eaten, sitting on the floor, due to lack of proper furniture.

On the up side... I have internet access, so I can bitch about it, and a lot of people who read my rants, so I don't feel so alone. I'm truly thankful for that.

~relief

Figured I'd post something positive, for a change.

Money don't make the world go 'round, but it sure as shit helps!

I'm in a good mood. I got the (9 months worth of) Medicare money Social Security owed me.

See, good things happen to people who are being assholes, all the time.

woohoo!

~I forget

There's really only so much a person can do to occupy oneself, sitting alone in an apartment, day after day, sick. Too, there's only so much a person can write about, when plagued by apathy and memory problems.

I could comment on things I read, or things I watch on tv, but along with really not caring, these days, I often forget what it is that I read or watched. I like crime dramas... CSI, SVU, NYPD Blue, etc., etc. Problem is, these days, I get lost. By the time the episode is half over, I lose track of what's going on. This makes me very sad. The same thing happens with listening to a person talk, or reading something longer than a few sentences. I'll attempt to do something, then forget what it was that I was going to do. Short term memory. I'd tell you all about what part of the brain handles that, but you see, my long term memory prowess, and a lot of my stored information, already went bye-bye.

Forgetting. I forget things. I forget what I'm talking about. I forget what I'm thinking about. I forget what I'm reading, watching, doing, writing... My legs forget to hold me up... My hands forget to grip... I forget to breathe. Forgetting. What is "forgetting"? It's not a misfire, it's a no-fire.

I'll ask that no one attempt to relate with me on this. Unless you have MS, or some other brain devouring disease, don't go there. Generally speaking, when people say "I know exactly what you mean.", I want to smack the shit out of them. Generally speaking, don't compare your life to mine. You're not me. It doesn't make me feel any better to hear about your shit. I have no idea why people think that it makes a suffering person feel better to hear "I know what you mean". No you fucking don't! ...and I don't need you to either. I don't need anyone to understand, I just need people to care. If you do care, that's much appreciated. Thank you. Now kindly stop telling me what fucking life experience you have that enables you to do so. All that does is completely invalidate me. I say "Ouch". You say, "I know exactly what you mean! I had this one paper cut once, it hurt SO bad." First, no you don't. Second, what the fuck do you want me to say in response to that? Poor you! That paper cut must have hurt SO bad! Screw me and MY problems... let's talk about your paper cut!

I'm ranting. I tend to do that. See, I forget what I'm talking about... what I'm writing about... the point I was originally trying to express.

I think that I was attempting to write about my short term memory loss problems, and about being bored out of my fucking mind, but whatever it was that I was going to say fell into one of my lesions.

Ouch.

245pm111605 ~comment

(in "crack kills")

I think there are too many doctors that just don't care. They do an acceptable job, but do they really CARE about the person who is their patient? When my wife was pregnant she had some things happen that got her a little worried. Worried enough to call her doctor. Of course it goes to an answering service, because it was 7:00 p.m. on Christmas Eve. No way did we expect a call, but the guy called her back within an hour and totally put her at ease. I was blown away. You can bet I would never say a negative thing about this guy. Even if he messed something up, I would be far more likely to understand that he is human just because he took those few minutes out of his day (which I am sure add up to a lot of minutes if he is like that with all of his patients). I bet people would be far less likely to sue a doctor if they felt like the guy actually cared about them.
Hopefully your guy will come around.


One of the reasons I'm NOT suing my last doctor is just that. I don't care that he made a few mistakes, he treated me with kindness, and did his job to the best of his ability.

The hospital that misdiagnosed me... the reason I'm not suing them is because I simply don't have the energy to deal with a lawsuit, or even deal with finding a lawyer. :\

Sativex (Cannabis)

I wish that they'd just legalize pot. Even though it tastes like poo, I'd still smoke it, at this point. In fact, I'd rather do it that way. I'm getting beyond SORE at drug companies. (I'll leave the explosion about doctors for another day.)

They don't want to cure this. It wouldn't make them money that way.

~crack kills

I got some sleep, which is a good thing. Just took my shot, which is also a good thing. Hopefully, it'll give me a bit of an upswing, at least for a few days.

There's a lot that I want to be able to do, if I get a few days of semi-functionality. "House work" needs to get done. The mail needs to come in, and the trash needs to go out. I have to figure out how to get a week of food with $25. I need to call SSD and MassHealth, to find out what's going on. I should attempt to figure out this new Medicare D thing. I need to take care of my hair... my beard is now full and there's enough on my head to actually pull. I need to get a shower. This is not good. This is not Cutter.

I fear starting this new medication. Neurodude said to take it at night, before bed. Cracks me the fuck up. That's one of the big problems with the doctors. They assume that everyone else is just like them, only uneducated. Dude couldn't understand why I couldn't get to the hospital. I don't drive. Dude says "there's a bus that runs on Rte 9". ... and how exactly am I supposed to get to route 9? Dude says, "take it the same time every day, at night, before bed". Ummm... dude? I haven't had a motherfucking bedtime since 1999. Take this, it's an anti-psychotic head-med that you have to take every day, that might work with certain types of pain, and might help with sleep, but you can't take if you drink alcohol. Ummm.... are you on crack?

Whatever, I'll take it. I'll take it at about 11 PM, before I plant myself in front of The Daily Show. If I drink, I drink. Too fucking bad. He didn't say anything about not drinking. I found out that info myself. I guess he should have warned me. I guess he should have attempted to know me a little better.

I'm sure I'll end up filling everyone in on the details. I should have the med by Friday, provided MassHealth will actually pay for it. The Daily Show isn't on, on Fridays. Maybe I'll feel good enough to write here, as the stuff kicks in. Should be interesting.

~grog

My Neurodude finally called me back, at 10 AM this morning.

He's going to schedule me for an MRI, as planned, and he wants to put me on Seroquel. He said something about it having some effect on pain, or something... I don't really remember too much, I was half asleep.

From what I read about it, it looks like a big mistake to put me on this, but... what do I know? I'm just the impatient patient.

Have to get back in bed. I'm still twitchy and groggy.

my deal

It's getting close to four.

I had some beer... and the wine earlier.

I can't take this. I have to sleep.

In a little bit, I"m going to take my Valium. Probably about 10 mg. That's a "normal" dose.

I HAVE to sleep.

Thank You

Thank you for tonight.

Thank you for being more than a friend.

Thank you for being you.

I love you.

1127pm111405 ~comment

(I posted in "bye" entry) as a comment.


I'm trying. I really am. I have help... from you guys, and from my "best friend" ("Ravenswings"). She's helping beyond the point anyone should even think of helping. I'm blessed... with all of it. I lost out BIG when it came to family, but I more than made up for it in FRIENDS.

thank YOU

~tis the season

Well, that was a complete waste. Hobbled out of there, after a visit with Chairy, with a "follow up with your Neurologist" and a $120 prescription I can't afford. woohoo.

Just consider this a blanket apology. I'll most likely be a complete asshole for quite some time. If I'm nice, it won't be the usual. I'm sorry. My brain is a fucked up mess of a bowl of oatmeal.

I'm tired. I really need sleep. Until I get some, things will probably stay bad, or get worse. Such is life. Life's a bitch, and then you write about it.

~bye

I'm going to the ER.

I'm not well.

I'll be thinking of you...


sorry I'm so sick.

353pm111405 my reply to ~comments

(In "just wanted to post these")


Yeah, they're REALLY nice.

I'm getting beyond CRANKY.

THIS WOMAN WAS DYING!!!!!

could you BOTHER to read the next entry down and reply to the fucking sentiment of this POST!!!!!!!!


FUCK YOU. When it's your loved who's going, or YOU... don't wonder why no one is giving a rat's ass. Don't wonder why no one reads beyond the third sentence.

It's fucking KARMA.

asshole

~I'm a Soopahstah

I hit number 10 on the hot blogs list.

that makes me a stud.

Whatever.

I'm not holding my tongue.



Fuck you

I don't need your hits.

Fuck you

THIS IS REAL

~just wanted to post these

This is a picture of me and Terri, in 2001.

This is a picture of me, trying to make her laugh. (She did actually laugh... as did everyone else.)

~Mysticnight

I'm waiting on a callback from my Neurodude. I don't even know why I called him, really. I'm not doing well, but there's so much going on that I don't even know what to mention. I guess that breathing problems, throat problems, blood pressure problems, heart problems, muscle spasms, shaking, and PAIN are a bit much to attempt to explain in detail. They always want to know details. OUCH is never enough.

It's a tricky situation. Legally, and by choice, I'm DNR. So, I've already told them I don't want them attempting to save me. I'm supposed to be "Comfort Care Only - DNR" though... and I'm lacking on the comfort here. I can't even sleep for more than about an hour, when I can fall asleep at all, without waking up from one symptom or another.

It's scary. I'm sort of scared to talk about it. It's all so dreadfully dramatic. I'd pull out a violin and make fun of myself... but I really am sort of scared. Too, maybe it will pass. Maybe it'll get better. Shoot, for all I know, I'll be going through this for another 30 years. Stranger things have happened, in my life. Doesn't feel that way though... whatever this disease is doing, it's doing it very aggressively right now.

I remember reading posts by my friend, Terri (aka "Mysticnight"). Terri was dying from Breast Cancer. I remember it feeling so odd to me... knowing that her words would, one day soon, be the words of someone who had died... that her words made her alive to me, as our friendship existed online, and that even though she'd be dead, the words would still be there.

I don't get that reaction from reading books, or words online written by someone who has passed. It was just in the process... of knowing that the words I was reading, written by someone alive, would soon be just the echoes of that person.

When I write, lately, in the back of my mind is the thought of how this must feel to people reading it... of how it felt to me when it was happening with Terri. I remember how odd it felt to me, when I read something cheerful she wrote. When I met her, offline, about a year before she died, it became a lot more real to me. I had seen Terri through the disguise of a screen. I didn't know her reality.

After I met her, her posts read differently to me. I better understood that what I read was only a few minutes of Terri. It was Terri at her best. It was Terri when she could actually endure sitting in front of her screen long enough to type something.

I still think about her, all the time. This whole disease process just puts another angle on it. It enables me to see her in, yet another, whole new light.

This sucks.

Can't sleep. Having trouble with breathing, and it feels like there's something caught in my throat, or that it's numb, or something. Too, I keep getting the shakes.

~Guard your ankles

I don't feel as full of rage today. I feel odd though... it's this weird cross between nefarious and megalomaniacal. The other day, I'd kill you with a butter knife. Today, I'd simply order someone to do the job for me.

...hence my not really wanting to write.

Sometimes, I get really full of myself... too full of myself.

It only takes a little while to pass though. Inevitably, someone, even unknowingly, knocks me back down to elf.

After seeing my picture today, someone mentioned that I look like "a killer". It was a compliment to me though... after saying that, they asked if I'd seen "Oz". Holy hard-on, Batman! Am I that hot? (truly chuckling out loud)

Yes, I am a killer. I'm killing myself. I'm attacking myself. I'm devouring the myelin off of my own nerves.

All that metaphor aside though... could I kill?

Well... that's not something to rant or muse about in public. If I say "yes", I'm suspect. If I say "no", I'm a coward.

I'll leave it at "maybe".

The Eternal Scream Thread

I've missed this thread.. so... I'll just start it back up.

On the (internal or external) radio right now.

for me, it's...
If You Don't Know Me By Now - Simply Red

---

sorry folks, it's just stuck in my head


please make it stop

sk

ok, this completely rocks...


"Comeback"

"hey... hey! are you a man, a woman or what?"

"to you, i'm whatever you don't fuck."

(Worrisome)

Not doing too well myself, today. Breathing and BP problems. Worrisome.

~Whatever it is

I'm hoping to have a calmer day, today.

The last few days have been pretty rageful, to say the least. Some of it is MS related, and some of it is medication related. Certain drugs just fuck with what little brain I have left, as I'm coming down off of them. I try to avoid those drugs, but sometimes, when things get really bad, I have to choose... either take the drug, or...


"Make it stop!" I've said that for 23 years, or so. I remember being in 9th grade... the High School I was in was doing a musical. I was overworking myself... the music part, the Stage Crew part, and finals... It was May of '84. The night the Musical opened, I "snapped" somehow. I was just suddenly hit over the head with RAGE, FATIGUE, and "Make it stop!". I spent the evening on the couch in the Stage Crew office, rather than in the Orchestra pit, doing my job.

The result was my being labeled a "drug addict". The only drugs I'd taken that day were allergy pills, and No Doz. In fact, at that point in my life, I'd never done drugs, not even Pot. That didn't matter though. In High School, once you're labeled, you're labeled.

It didn't "stop". In fact, it kept coming. My Novemberitis hit, that year, pretty damn hard. That's when I left home. I just wanted it to STOP.

It never did.

602am111205 ~comments

(In You can't see a nod online.)

from fxxxxxxxxx:
Because sometimes I forget what I had intended to say once I try to say something, and sometimes I just don't know what to say.

But I know the feeling when there's no comment to certain things you write, things close to the heart. Sometimes I lie to myself and say that it's alright, after all I'm writing for myself. But then, we all know better. If we were writing for ourselves, we wouldn't have bothered to put it online for all to see, free to be commented on.

You know, at this moment, I already feel like not posting this comment anymore, just close the window and go do something else.

Believe me when I say that there were no notes in that entry because we too, do care how our comments would affect you.

I know it isn't your fault for feeling this bitter. But I'm sure most of the people here reading you, not leaving or leaving notes, even in the stuffings and meatballs entry, really do care for you. I know I do.

from gxxxxxx:
my own habit where blogs like this are concerned is to stay silent unless i *honestly* have something to contribute... something specific to offer that isn't just a reiteration of something i've said before, or that i know you already know. to do otherwise, i feel, would be terribly insulting to you.

your experience is not mine, and i would never pretend to "feel you" in some way i cannot. i can only listen, and hopefully try to return something a little better than "yah dude... i hear that," once in a while.

it's an odd position... i'm watching someone hurt, and possibly die, in streams of text on my screen. what have i, but to bear witness? it is both the least and the most i can do.

if you require more phatic communication, let me know.

---

my reply to fxxxxxxxxx 11.12.05 6:02 am:
Please don't think that any of my ill feelings are directed towards you. Even if I'm a raging lunatic, "fxxxxxxxxx" is nowhere on my list of people I have issues with. In a year and a half, you've been here reading every last word I write, and looking for me if I don't write. You've never been anything but kind to me, and your kindness has not gone unnoticed.

thank you


my reply to gxxxxxx 11.12.05 6:09:
I don't expect you to say a word, really. I like that you read. I like that you write, when you have something to say.

I think that of the many people here, you know what I'm like when my brain goes off.

All I can do is apologize repeatedly. I really am sorry. I don't like upsetting people, or hurling poo in their general direction, least of all the people I respect and care for.

1pm111105 ~comment

(In "Poverty The other white meat")

I can't argue with what you just said but I want to give you an idea: I told you the other day I have been reading your blog for months and one thing I can tell you is that if you ever decided to publish your writtings you would most likely find a publisher. Have you ever thought about how huge your contribution could be for others who go through the same?

Damn, I think I'm gonna have to login the ~blog to send you a private message with my idea. May I?


I hear your idea. I simply cannot follow it. Shoot, half the time it takes me a half hour to read a paragraph.

Money. It's all about money, isn't it. Makes me mad.


I'd rather be hungry and know that people get something out of what
I write then be a millionaire having the balls of Dr. Phil. Know what I mean?

I dunno...


I just can't seem to handle all of the technical stuff. :\

~Poverty The other white meat

So, it's the 11th. This is not good. See, I just looked at my checkbook. oops.

What it comes down to, is that I have $2.45 a day to live off of, until December 2nd.

This is not good at all.

I'm glad that I stocked up on food.

Just in case any of you are ever really bored one day, and decide to become disabled, be prepared. It sucks shit.

Holy Fucking Shit

Remind me that tomorrow we HAVE to watch The Daily Show.

My ex-girlfriend was on... long story, but I'm freaked. *lol*

Novemberitis

My brain isn't doing so well. Just wanted to let you peeps know that I care about you. If you're reading my ~Blog, please don't take it personal.

My brain is just doing its thing.

Sorry.

~You can't see a nod online.

I'm not going to write this with the intention of putting it on my blog, but I'm going to type it, rather than write it into my journal, just in case.

It's November. I can pretty safely say that anyone who knows me, knows to "duck" in November. It's not just that I'm oversensitive, it goes a little deeper than that. In the past, I used to call myself a "raw nerve". That was before I had an actual/correct diagnosis, and found out that my nerves were indeed raw.

It's that time of year. EVERYTHING offends me. I don't trust ANYONE. It's ALL very personal.

I wrote an entry on my blog, the other day. Not that it was the best entry I've ever written, but because it's November, it branched out a bit. See... I branch out a bit in November. My raw nerves become RAW NERVES. The same thing can be said for my perception though. Don't lie, and don't try to cover your tracks. You just look like a complete idiot to me.

Anyway... this entry was going off into Novemberland, and then, in reply, I got dead silence. No, my blog is not all about getting comments. If you look back, as many have, there are many entries without comments. I didn't have a problem then... and the fact that my latest entry got no comments WASN'T the problem. The problem is that something as mundane as stuffing and meatballs somehow got 16 of them, and a few days later, something having to do with something REAL got none.

My blog gets a lot of hits. There are many people who read my blog and have never said a peep. I value these people greatly. Too, I value the people who do comment. This isn't about anyone in particular, it's about the reality of it all. The reality is that people are more than happy to discuss meatballs, but when it comes to anything resembling "profound", no one wants to go there, unless I throw a fit.

I went through it for years on message boards. I'd attempt to get "real", and people would pull up chairs and eat popcorn. It made me NUTS.

Ordinarily though, I can stifle. I practiced stifling, because my fits were getting to be a bit much, even for me. I just learned to "let it go", even if it was only in writing. I don't really care if people don't comment. ...but this is NOVEMBER. EVERYTHING is a thousand times more blown out of proportion. Right now, the reason why people didn't comment is because they really don't give a rat's ass about ME. They care, but only if I discuss things they can relate to, like cooking and what's on tv. If I go into my theories on life, or write out what is being told to me by my ghosts... nope.

NO. I DO NOT CARE IF THIS IS NOT TRUE!!!!!

That's the way it FEELS to me. My nerves are RAW.

It's odd, how that works. It's ok to be sick, but it's not ok if the symptoms of your illness cause you to come off as being a complete delusional ASSHOLE.

I said this before, in my online life... I'm allowed to be an asshole here. It's MY blog. What am I supposed to do? Ban myself?

I do the best I can to keep myself in check. I try really hard to think about how what I write will affect people. I actually DO CARE how what I write affects people.

So... when I get silence in response to something I write which I really care a lot about, in the same week as 16 comments about stuffing...

Well? How exactly would you take it?


I'm sure this will get a lot of reads... and I'm sure that most people will take it really personally. Sorry. If you don't know me by now...

~duct taping the crow's beak

I have plenty to say, none of it too nice.

Don't take it personally, it's just my head.

What you should take personally is my decision NOT to say another damn word right now. That must mean that, at least, a few of you matter to me.

Fucking asshole time (2)

You don't have to stay away. I just wanted to warn you that I might be acting a little angrier than usual... and wanted to apologize in advance.

I'll do my best.

Fucking asshole time (1)

It's just that time.

I'm WAY altered. I'm apologizing in advance. I'm a dickhead.

I'd go into the details... I'd warn you of all the ins ans outs... but I can't... I'm already pretty gone.

I love you.
I'm sorry.
I'll try to fake it as much as I can... because I love you, and no matter what, I don't want to hurt you.

Here we go..

~right

I guess I should go back to writing about stuffing and meatballs

~I know this road

So, the Neurontin doesn't do a damn thing. Other than feeling nauseous, dizzy, and my teeth hurting, no change. Bummer.

Although some things seem to be improving, other things are popping up. My legs have been a lot better lately. That's something, I guess. On the down side though, my right arm is obviously tuned into some disco station which I can't hear. It started with the ring finger, this morning, and then moved into the forearm as well. It's this pulsey, twitchy thing. It's visible. It's freaky.

I feel really tired, right now. I'm making coffee. That probably won't help my yucky stomach, but I can't really care. I don't want alcohol. I don't want juice. I don't want water. I don't want tea. I want something to drink. Coffee it is. As if I care whether or not it'll "keep me up". I don't sleep anyway, so I don't see that it matters.

I have a lot of thoughts in my head... opinions, theories, rants, musings... a lot that I want to vomit out onto the screen. Yet, here I sit, unable to do anything but whine about my latest ailments. Some people are satisfied with just saying "ouch". Me? I have to turn it into a fucking thesis. blah blah blah. caw Caw CAW!

It really freaks me out that I knew that I had this, even before I knew I had this.

I have a very extensive background with Magick. If I choose to, I can use the "Priest" title. I find it pretentious though, and Magick? I simply don't care to go there anymore.

A number of years ago, I spent a lot of time doing "automatic writing". There was one session, where I was being told, over and over again, that there was something wrong with my head. Yeah. No duh. ...but no, it wasn't like that. Again and again, it pointed/said there was something literally about my head that was causing me the problems I was experiencing. It ended... I gave up, after what was being drawn alluded to my mother dropping me on my head. Did my mother drop me on my head, when I was a child? Not that I'm aware of. "There's something wrong with your head that has been present since you were a child." Yes. This is true.

So, did the spirits try to tell me that I had MS, or did I know? Was it me, or was it not me? All I did was hold the writing implement... hover it. I did not attempt to move it. It just moved. That's the way it works. It can be argued that a person's subconscious moves the pen... that there are teeny tiny muscle movements, even though you think that you're not moving your hand. (Ever use a Ouija board?) I'm fine with those arguments. Either way, it freaks me out. Whether the spirits knew, or I did, doesn't matter. Whether I'm seeing ghosts or hallucinating doesn't matter. Whether or not I'm remembering past lives or creating stories in my head doesn't matter. The reality is still the same, either way.

If you get really quiet, and really still... the truth will come. If you follow the path of breadcrumbs, you'll arrive at your destination. It doesn't matter who put the crumbs there. They're there for you.

If you listen, your God will talk to you.

451am110705 ~comment

(posted by: Nxxxx 11.06.05 7:43 pm in "Leaves of Green")

I thought I should let you know I read each and all of your entries. I don't visit ~blog often but for some reason your blog is the only that is really worth reading, so much that I syndicated it long time ago and each time you post something I read it as soon as it comes on my reader.

I have read all your posts and in one I read that you don't like physical contact, but I want you to know that each time I read your posts I feel like giving you a hug and tell you that i would like you to think that besides your bunny rabbit and your cane and your plant, there is someone who keeps you company all the time with her thoughts that that is me.

Perhaps this is the only time I write to you or perhaps not, but if I don't do it again do not think I have forgotten you, it's just that I would like to be that little stain on the wall that you see each time you pass by it and for one reason or the other you never clean 'cause it's just part of the wall.

I believe in life and you are one of those rare people who live it no matter what.

I admire you tremendously, highly, and i wish for you the best even if the best is just sleeping one more hour at night, I know, deep in my heart, that you will make the best of it.

Meatballs sounds delicious!!

I don't care if you like it or not but...
(((((((((((((((((Cutter)))))))))))))))))))))


Thank you, Nxxxx. You made me smile. Both what you wrote, and the fact that you read what I write every day, mean the world to me.

I'm very lucky to have come across people like you, online and off. For as many bad ones as I've dealt with, it's people like you who make it all worthwhile.

thank you

~Leaves of Green

21 years ago today, I left "home". "Home" as in, my mother's home. For the record, I neither fault myself for this decision, nor do I regret it. I'm alive. I lived. I did a lot of good. I'm a person that I really, really like. I made myself that way. ME.

...but, onward...

Last night was a really rough night, although the last few days have been relatively good. It seems to happen with my shot. For about 5 days after my shot, I get an energy boost. The next 9 days are a slide downhill though. I took my shot on Wednesday. Today is Sunday. woohoo.

I took a walk. It's nice out. Yesterday was disgusting. The thermometer in here went up to 78, and that was with the windows open. I'm in New England, in November, with my air conditioner on. What's wrong with this picture? Anyway, it's nicer today, and I enjoyed the walk. The leaves are changing and falling. Ok, fine, the real reason I went for a walk is because I was going to run out of smokes. So what? I walked. I like walking. Nessie doesn't mind squashing in the leaves too much.

I feel pretty tired. As I said, last night was rough. A lot of pain... and there's this thing that happens with my heart or lungs. I'm not too sure which it is, but it's been happening for, at least, the last 5 years or so. ...and no, it's not from smoking. My lungs are clear, and chest x-rays verify that. It scares me when it happens. It sort of feels like I forget to breathe or that my heart forgets to beat for a second. I'll just be laying there, falling asleep, and then my whole body jerks, my heart pounds, and I gasp for air. It seems to happen only when I'm falling asleep though. To the best of my knowledge, it doesn't happen when I'm fully awake, or fully asleep. It's scary, because I don't know what it is exactly... I just know that it can't be good.

Dr. Neurodude prescribed me Neurontin to take, as needed, for pain... to see if it will do any good. I think that tonight, I might just try it out. I don't like trying new meds. I don't like meds at all, really... but I think that I might need to take this one for a test drive. I really need sleep.

The Eagles game is on tonight. This is a good thing. It's pretty cool, actually. There have been a lot of Eagles games on here. Maybe it's because of the last Superbowl... maybe it's just New England's way of keeping their eye on the team. Whatever the reason, I'm liking it.

My favorite color is GREEN.

622am110605 ~comments

(in "Home Oh")

by Txxxxxxxxxx 11.05.05 4:59am
Talk of food and home.
Doesn't *sound* too lonely.. but it kind of feels it.

As always, thank you for making me sit down and think a while.. about you, about these places, and about myself.

by Jxxxxx 11.06.05 6:00 am
I hear that loud and clear! I miss bunny and you. I hate not being able to walk over and see you, well the gayborhood is still hear and you are still a part of it. It may have seemed things have change but they really have not. We still stained ever brick and pissed and laughed on every street. Where's Guilles? I still think about putting my finger in his nose.

---

Reply to Txxxxxxxxxx 11.06.05 6:22 am
It can be lonely, sometimes... but generally, I like solitude in my home. I go out, when I want to be around people. My home is like the bedroom, the rest of the world is the living room.

...if that's what you meant.


Reply to Jxxxxx 11.06.05 6:23 am
Giles is doing well. He lives about a half hour away with good friends. ;)

Talking with MS

do you ever find that if you are in the middle of a passionate discourse, not even necessarily an argument, but something that gets your mind and emotions going...that the MS can cause you to sort of be unable to get your words out?


Verbal dyslexia, I call it. ..and yup, I sure do. These days, it doesn't have to be a passionate discourse. It just happens.

I get it with writing though too. I'm forgetting more and more, when it comes to written English, and I frequently leave words out, or parts of words, when I write.

Even the thoughts in my head get jumbled like that. I often think about really wanting to smoke a beer.

533am110505 ~comment

(in "more food")

if you will continuously count the calories on your food, you will starve! believe me, eating is a great hobby (it's my fave hobby!)
lol!
bon apettit!


If I don't count the calories, I'll eat myself to death.

Keeping an eye on calories and nutrition is something I do wisely. I give myself 1500 a day, right now, because I need to lose a few pounds. Once I'm at a healthy weight, I'll go to 2000. Being that I can't really excercise much, I have to monitor my food and drink.

I'm pretty easy on myself. I don't beat myself up over an extra 50 calories, and eating until I feel like I'm going to explode is fine, as long as it's only once in a while. ;)

~Home Oh

I've spent large chunks of time, in my life, attempting to define the word "home". The reasons why it was so damn difficult are many. I didn't have a real "home base" as a child, so from day one, the concept was a little difficult for me to grasp. Now? Well, after 36 years of study and whining, I can state where "home" is, and what "home" is.

There's "home", as in "Home is where the heart is", there's "home", as in "where I keep all my stuff", and there's "home", as in "I can't take this life thing anymore. I want to go home."

Where the heart is. That takes some thought, for me. I don't really have the best of hearts. "Love" is transient. Blood is tastier than water, but aside from that, it don't mean a damn thing. I think that, in all honesty, where my heart is, is Online. The Internet is my home, in that sense of the word. The people I think about, and care about, exist here, online. Even if they also exist in my life offline, I can find them here.

Where I keep my stuff. That's pretty easy. I live in Shrewsbury, Massachusetts, in the USA. The keys on my keychain open the locks on the doors here. Bunny lives here. It's a snooty town in the center of the State, with lots of trees, a pond, and a lake. I live in the "armpit". That's about what it boils down to. They have to provide low-income housing, so they designate a building or two for us poor, old, and diseased folks. It's a much nicer armpit than elsewhere. "The Projects" sounds scary because of other Projects in the country, but this Project is a damn country club compared to those.

I can't take this life thing anymore. I want to go HOME. I suppose this definition is the one definition I should use, if I had to choose just one. It comes at the end of the sentiments of, "Fuck the Internet, I'm going out.", and "Get me out of this boring, snooty, slice of Wonder Bread!" Home. Home is Philly. To be more specific, home is "Wash West" in Philadelphia, PA. ..and if I want a vacation, I'll wander to Rittenhouse Square and party with the squirrels and pigeons. I've lived in a lot of different places in Philly, but "home" is the area called the "Gay Ghetto"... roughly, between 8th and Broad Streets and between Market and South Streets, bordering on the neighborhoods of Chinatown to the north, Society Hill to the East, South Philadelphia to the south, and Rittenhouse to the west. I can stretch it a little though, between Front and 19th, and Arch and South. Basically, that's all of Center City though, so if I had to settle on one area, it'd be Washington Square West. If I had to settle on an exact corner? 12th and Spruce. I lived there, once. I still live there. It's where my heart lives, and where Bunny is pissed at me for ever leaving.

If there's a such thing as reincarnation, that's where you'll find me. That's where you found me this time too. That is my home.

"food is good" the ~comments

(in food is good)

---

by lxxxx 11.04.05 (9:31 am)
mmmmm. Stuffing. That is my one favorite thing about Thanksgiving. I love stuffing so much that I even love the cheap StoveTop stuff but *real* stuffing is to die for.

I hope you find you can have a nice Thanksgiving meal. Do you have someone you can invite over?

by Jxx 11.04.05 (9:50 am)
I don't suppose you'd want to share your stuffing recipe? Pretty please? Stuffing is the one thing I could never figure out.


to lxxxx 11.04.05 (11:21 am)
If I do cook, I'll invite my best friend over. :)

to jxx 11.04.05 (11:25 am)
Jxx, if I told you, I'd have to shoot you. ;)

Just kidding.

I don't really have a recipe. The way I cook, I choose the ingredients, and then use my nose to guide me. When the aroma has me drooling, and ready to eat the darn pot I'm cooking in, it's done.

I'll have to jot down what I use, if I make it, and then I'll send you the notes. :)


by jxxxxxxxxxx 11.04.05 (1:17 pm)
I enjoy cooking for myself and for others... each circumstance has its own specific set of delights.... that coupled with the healing power of comfort foods makes a full fridge and a full tummy good medicine. Enjoy your day in the kitchen... hopefully, if you are able to get a few things whipped up, any patches of rough road that lay ahead will be smoothed a bit as you nourish yourself on some of today's creations as well as on the smiles you were afforded while making them.

by Jxxxxx 11.04.05 (1:29 pm)
I think, I have a vague memory of you making stuffing: You holding a spatchala or something. You were being silly at L's house. I believe it was our "we have no where to go for thanksgiving holiday" as usual for the unwanted outcasts.

by jxx 11.04.05 (1:30 pm)
I do the same, but my nose won't tell me that it's ALWAYS going to be the consistency of runny oatmeal when the bird is done *sigh* I would appreciate the culinary wisdom, Thanks!

by ? 11.04.05 (1:31 pm)
Maybe, I can come over for thanx giving? I will try, if not I don't see why not Christmass


to jzz 11.04.05 (1:52 pm)
If it's runny, add bread. If it's dry, add broth. If it's too soft and tasteless... add butter.

to ? 11.04.05 (1:53 pm)
ummm... you are?

to Jxxxxx 11.04.05 (1:54 pm)
I think that I kinda sorta remember that Thanksgiving... that was the crazy year, right? When we dared someone to run out into the alley with their pants down and yell "Anyone have toilet paper?!?!?"

to jxxxxxxxxxx 11.04.05 (1:56 pm)
Comfort food.

It's odd... sometimes, just seeing the food in the fridge, or knowing that you can afford it, makes you feel better. The mind... a terrible thing to taste?


by jxx 11.04.05 (3:25 pm)
But if the bird is cooked, it's too late :-( there's no fixing it. It always looks and smells great when I put it in, and then it all goes south. But, everything except the stuffing works out. At least my turkey is always wonderful and moist. I guess there are more important things to worry ourselves with...but the trivialities are such a nice distraction...so is wonderful food :-)


to jxx 11.04.05 (3:35 pm)
you have to make the stuffing FIRST. Make it to your liking, but leave it just a LITTLE wet, because when it cooks, it'll dry out a little.

Make the stuffing as a dish. Stuff the bird with the "well, if the stuffing runs out..." portion of the batch. Just leave the bird stuffing a little dryer (drier?) that the rest.


by jxx 11.04.05 (5:03 pm)
Actually, you know, that's not a bad idea...to put the stuffing in completely dry, no eggs or anything...because I cook my birds while they're still not fully thawed, and there's a bit of water that comes out...DUH. And I want to go to medical school. Shows how many brains I have left. Anyway, this is my secret for crispy skin and juicy breasts--marmalade. Tart if you can get it. Smoothed on very thin at first and thicker later if need be. Makes the skin seal in all the wonderful juices. Just don't get clods in the drippings or your gravy will be very sweet :-) Thanks, I'm glad I found someone who can point me to the obvious when I need it.

~more food

I made the meatballs. I made some spaghetti too. It was GOOD.

There's no point in watching my waistline, but yet I do it anyway. I kept thinking... how many calories is this bowl?

Whatever... other than the bowl of Spaghetti and Meatballs, all I've had is beer today.

I made some Egg Salad. It's in the fridge. I'll eat some, if I get crazy hungry.

Food. Damn sad if the only thing you can manage to write about is food.

Whatever. Life happens.

3pm110405 ~comment

(in "beef and beer")

Yeah, I hear that - barfly. You and I included had a lot of good times. It is not over yet we will do it again.



:\ I wish. My ears are just too bad. I'd settle for sitting in Rittenhouse Square.

I miss home. :(

~food is good

My hope for the day? Meatballs.

Seriously, I want to make meatballs. That's one thing that I've missed being able to do, cook. Living alone for the majority of my life, I've never relied on other people to cook for me, and was never obligated to cook for anyone else. That left a lot of room for me to have fun with food. The limited budget provided a challenge, and that challenge transferred into a creative outlet. The end result is that I really love cooking.

Over the last year, I haven't really been able to cook. Between where I was living, and being sick all the time, it just wasn't possible. Today, as I finally have food in the house, and feel pretty ok, I want to cook. I'm crossing my fingers that I'll continue to feel ok throughout the day. I'll make a lot of food so that when I don't feel so ok, I won't be stuck eating a nuked hotdog as a meal. Not that nuked hotdogs aren't tasty, but a few days of them gets a little old.

It's Thanksgiving time. Turkey time. Stuffing time. I make REALLY good stuffing. The only person who ever said they didn't love my stuffing only said so in order to upset me. Everyone else ended up wanting to put orders in for vats of it. I hope that I can manage to make some this year. I'll go through the finances and see if I can't afford to get some ingredients. Turkeys usually go on sale.

I like having food in the house. It makes me feel a little more secure. I may die tomorrow, but at least I won't die hungry.

304pm110305 ~comment

(in "Here we go")

I dread February.

(my reply)
The more I go through life, the more it seems I dread every month. :\ I dunno... May, September, and November-December seem to be my most dreaded. To be even more specific... My birthday (Sept.19), all of May, and Thanksgiving through New Year's.

I'm sure that there's a lot of Psych basis for it, but the Psych stuff sets off the MS, and so... it's all bad. :\

~beef and beer

I'd planned to sit down and write, but now, I just sort of feel like getting drunk and passing out. Unfortunately, these days, passing out usually happens before the drunk part... which sucks.

My MassHealth bill came in the mail. My Smell Phone bill didn't. Both are due. I'm overdone. I got some groceries though. That's a good thing. There was an echo in the fridge. Food is getting REALLY expensive... Even a pound of ground beef is $5. There are sales, but by the time you get to the store, whatever's on sale is sold out.

I'll take care of the rest of the bills tomorrow, and then figure out what I have to work with for the rest of the month. I guess it's no big deal. It's not like I can go out and do anything anyway. I sure do miss that... going out. I used to be a barfly. Out out out. I was always out. I guess I was just getting my time in while I could. I'm glad I did.

....off to drink my beer. 50 cents well spent.

brrrp

~The Monthly Ritual

There's nothing like paying the bills to get me into a chipper mood.

Fucking shit.

Maybe I can write later tonight... I'd like to. Right now though, I have to go pay out the rest of my check. Need food. Need smokes. Need to pay for SELL phone.

Maybe next month will be better.

It could happen.

End of the month blues (3)

ok... middlefest:

(all prices rounded)
Sake - 5
Seaweed Salad - 4
Squid - 7
Tuna - 4
Salmon - 4
Hamachi - 5
bass - 4
albacore - 5
masago - 3
ikura w/egg - 6
eel roll - 5

@$60, including tip


If I can add more than that... another Sake?

End of the month blues (2)

Well, since I'm in fantasy land...

ok...

Here's tonight's sushi fantasy:


Sake - 3 @ $5 = $15
Seaweed Salad = $3.95
Squid (2) = $7
Tuna = $4.25
Salmon = $4.25
Hamachi = $4.25
Bass = $4.25
Ikura = $4.25
w/egg = $5.25
eel roll = $4.95

$57.40 + $10 tip = $67.40
round = $70

The Budget Sushi line -

Sake = $5
Seaweed Salad = $3.95
Squid = $7
Tuna = $4.25
Salmon = $4.25
Bass = $4.25
Ikura = $4.25
eel roll = $4.95

the truth? I'd order A LOT... and take home the leftovers. ;)

...like this! -

Sake - 15
miso - 2.95
seaweed - 3.95
oct - 3.5
squid - 7
tuna - 8.5
salmon - 8.5
hamachi - 4.25
bass - 4.25
albacore - 4.25
masago - 3.5
ikura - 4.45
w/egg - 5.45
eel roll - 4.95
salmon skin - 4.25

84.75 + 16 tip = @$100

End of the month blues (1)

I think that I'm going to need 2 packs of smokes. If they don't have mediums, just get Winston box. I'm chain smoking like a fool.

Called MassHealth. It's another "wait on the statement" deal. Shoot, the way I see it, if I can wait on my MedB money, I shouldn't feel bad about not getting on top of their bill.

My thought is that I should just spend the money on sushi and pay Mass Health when I get my back money from Medicare.

Not a printer. Not a bookshelf. Not a desk. Not underwear. Not jeans. Not sheets. SUSHI

I think that I really am cracked.

155pm110205 ~comment

(in "Social Sescrewity")

You dont have a couch? I have an idea for that. Post something on craig's list or something else that is free and just say that you are willing to take a couch off of someone's hands if they'll bring it to you. You never know....I find that people are often trying to get rid of old couches.

(my reply)
...and all the bugs and mites that come with them. :\ Seriously though, I'm a little cautious when it comes to used stuff. I have a REALLY bad immune system. It's a nice idea, though... and I thank you for the thought. Right now, I don't have much of anything. :\ I have a bed, a tv, a warped table that I have this laptop on, and 4 chairs that go with it. That's about it. Eventually, I suppose, I'll manage to find some "bargains". In the meantime... well... at least the floor is carpeted. :)

~Multiple Screwrosis

More and more, I'm starting to believe that MS is something that you're just born with.

~Here we go

Welcome to November.

~FUCK EVERYTHING

Fuck that


I'M FUCKING PISSED!!!!!!

WHAT THE FUCK DID I EVER DO TO ANYBODY?!?!!?!?!?


FUCK THIS SHIT!!!!!!


I'M SO FUCKING DONNNNNNNE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! !

~Social Sescrewity

I feel so fucking accomplished. I took the trash out. Do I get a medal?

I called the Social Security office. They said "huh? Who? Us? ummmm.... please hold."

Yes, I was approved to have my Medicare B payment covered by the State of Massachusetts. Yes, that was in March. No, it hasn't been picked up yet. Yes, I REALLY NEED THE FUCKING MONEY.

breathing

So, it's yet another short month. I'll eat like shit, drink cheap, blow my pennies on food that's healthy, and wish I had a couch or something. I'll get by. I always do.

~Pee You

Ok... time to write.

Wanted to surf around for a while first... try to catch up on reading other people's blogs... cyber-pop-in and wave, so to speak. Went to a friend's blogger blog, dusted off my old password. I'm glad that I save things like that.

I feel bad. I wish that I had more clarity. It seems that my brain has a timer on it. After a few minutes, no matter how long I stare, words just look like little boogers on the screen. I like reading other people's blogs, and I like commenting, when I have something to say. It sucks that my brain has other ideas.

Woke up at midnight, then again after an hour. Skunk. 'Nuff said. Damn critter. That BURNED! That'll learn me to want fresh air in my apartment. I could swear I still smell it. Probably had a fight with one of the local cats. There are quite a few around here. Poor kitty.

What am I writing about? ummmmm....

Right...

I was thinking about this whole dying thing.

If I look back a couple of months, there I am. I'm still here. I didn't die yet.

The whole thing is just so frustrating. Sometimes I feel like I'll be around for a while. Then, after a few hours, I feel like I won't make it through the night. It's this daily tease... and it completely sucks.

A lot of people say "Well, we're all dying." Well... DUH. No shit, Einstein. Look, it's like being in a car. It's possible that you'll get into an accident, if you're driving. We're all driving. Yay. My car doesn't have any fucking brakes!!!!!! That's about what it amounts to. Yes, maybe I'll get lucky. Maybe I can manage to swerve around at 90 miles an hour, for a while. Then, maybe I can't. Maybe, no matter how hard I try, I'm going to slam, head first, into the next building that happens to get in the way. Maybe maybe maybe. It's all a bunch of maybes.

I'll sit there, watching TV, saying to myself, "I'm ok. Things are fine. I'll just stay in bed and watch TV, and smoke my smokes. Everything will be alright." Then, I have to stumble to the bathroom, so that I can grit my teeth while a tablespoon of piss drips out into the bowl... and stumble back to bed, so that my head can stop spinning and the hallucinations can die down for a while. Fun stuff.

Do you know the difference between a hallucination and a ghost?

Me either.