~Drop Dead

I'm in a really bad mood.

I should invest in a punching bag. One of these days...

(censored to protect me from being locked up)

Think I'll take that walk now.

~Beer for Breakfast

Sounds like a good band name.

I know that it's not really breakfast time (it's about 6 PM), but being that I just got up at 4, it counts as "breaking the fast".

Maybe I'll go for a walk later... alleviate some of the beer gut guilt.

~I could make it your problem.

Can't sleep.

The head is racing.

Interesting session earlier this evening. Sometimes I'm surprised she lets me walk out of there, given what I admit to.


In life, I can't win. Either you act without thinking and get locked up, or think without acting and have everyone point fingers and tell you that you live in the past.

Most guys like me are in jail. I'm not... but I don't get any rewards for that. I just get people either judging me or simply avoiding me because I'm too angry or have too many problems.

My therapist tells me over and over again how it's not my fault and that I have a right to be angry and all sorts of other validating things. Some days she cries while I attempt to get what little out about my life that I can. Makes me feel funny. I never know what to say... never know whether or not to just shut up. I don't deal well with people crying.

My brother loves me unconditionally. I know that. I believe that. My best friend does too. I can't help but think that that's only because they haven't spent enough time with me though. I only get to talk with my best friend on the phone and online. My brother, I've only really started to get to know him recently. I left home when he was 2, so I got to be his idol. Those are the only 2 people who really give a shit though. I pay the shrink, so I don't count that as really caring.

Other people in my life? It feels like they tolerate me because they think that's what they're supposed to do, or I fill some sort of role for them, or they're trying to "save" me.

In the end, when the gun is in my mouth, it's really only 2 people who stop my finger from pulling the trigger... and it's not because I care for them, although I do, deeply. It's because they care for me.

~fingertips

Had to trim my beard. Pisses me off. I don't like cutting my beard. I have to though, once it reaches a certain length, I can't stop ripping it out. Gets to the point where my face (under my chin) gets infected and my fingertips hurt. It's pretty painful.

It's not that hair pulling disorder, it has to do with my fingertips. I've had it since I was born. I would rub the edges of my baby blanket between my fingertips until the blanket had holes in it. From there I graduated to other pieces of fabric, and then to the edge of my ear.

It's not all hair, it's just my beard...and it's only certain edges of certain fabrics. Sometimes I use rubber bands, but only certain ones. Not the flat kind, the round ones. I won't even go into what I do to my skin. I'll leave it at that if there's even the slightest bump, I'll pick and pick until it's level.

It's a weird OCD thing. It makes no sense to me, and I don't know why I can't stop. Even now, having trimmed the beard, I'm finding the few hairs which are slightly longer than the rest.

I guess it's better than my ear. The cartilage in my right ear is pretty damaged from a few decades of it. It's also better than my skin. My skin looks like hell.

My monster (pronounced "mother") called it "twiddling".

I call it frustrating.

~Hair of the dog

Today, the weather is perfect.

Went for a walk to the 7-Eleven. There's only a little bit of the walk where there's no sidewalk, so, provided there's no snow, it's a do-able walk.

I like walking. Walking is healthy for me. I think a lot while I walk... clears my head a bit. When I was working, I used to walk back and forth to work. I got a couple of miles a day that way. (I never had a beer gut then.)

Back in the jail cell now though... sitting in the dark with the fan in the window. Drinking a beer to try to alleviate the residual nausea. Mixing alcohols is never a good idea if you want to avoid a hangover.

The world is very quiet today. I like quiet days. Makes me not mind living so much.

~Yay! I puked!

It's rare that I drink to the point of actually being drunk, but last night I did succeed. It must've been something in the air. On the way to the bar, while depositing my recyclables into the handy dandy recycle dumpster, I witnessed one of my neighbors falling down a small hill. Didn't spill a drop of the 40 he was walking around with though. GOOD BOY! Gotta have priorities in life!

So, after a 6 pack of Natural Ice, 2 Rolling Rocks, and 2 Vodka & Tomatoes, I (and my trusty spoon) placed ourselves comfortably on a pillowcase, in front of my friend the toilet bowl, and regurgitated salad.

Quite colorful.


Who the fuck had the audacity to cover The Cure?

~Time passes

I've always been a writer. "Always" meaning, ever since I could hold a pen and form letters on a piece of paper. There haven't been many days in my life when I haven't written at least a sentence. Usually it's more like a page or two though. It may not be the best writing. My grammar isn't perfect, and neither is my spelling, but I like to think that I get my point across well enough.

I do actually miss writing with a pen. There's something that gets lost in typed words. Handwriting shows a lot of emotion... even shows some things you're not aware of while writing, when you look back at it later.

I remember once thinking that there'd be no way I could ever type as fast as I wrote. Now, I'm sure that I can type at least twice as fast as I write.

Writing has been an outlet for me... a pressure release type of thing. It's a drug of sorts. I really don't know what I'd do if I couldn't write. I'd probably talk to myself a lot more than I already do. (Yes, I do talk to myself, and yes, I do also answer back.)


I had to turn on my a/c today. Seasons change... time passes. This is my 35th May.


Did you ever run the concept through your head... the concept of "What if we do reincarnate, but as ourselves.. same date, same place..."? I mean, what if that's what happens when we die? What if we just get reborn and have to live the same exact life over and over and over again? Maybe that's why sometimes, when we meet a "new" person, they seem so familiar. Maybe that's what deja vu is all about. Maybe it's not about changing anything, but about how we handle what it is that we're given. Maybe the ultimate goal is to enjoy life, no matter how torturous the circumstances. Maybe "heaven" really can be being beat or mugged or molested or burned beyond recognition. Maybe it's all about perception... variety of experience.

I'm glad that I was born when I was. I'm glad that I got to do 16 in 1985. I'm glad that I got to be a kid in the 70's. I'm glad that I got to do my 20's in the 90's.

Maybe one day I'll be glad that I spent my 30's on the Internet.