Due To A Mix-up That Is Too Stupid To Explain, My Appointment Never Happened. 

Me. Haven't posted regularly in years but this is me.

Hey.

Porn bots keep following me like it's cool.

Been kind of a brutal weekend for me. 

Didn’t know that I was going to be dealing with a sick dog. All of that wrecked me. Think I got my cry quota done for the next week. 

I’m exhausted. I feel beat up. 

I’d take a hug or two.

That dog is hanging in though. She is this adorable thing but god damn, she’s tough. 

I think I’m way too up in my feelings right now. 

I’ll get back to you. 

Was a good day. It was a day I could half-way breathe. I handled what needed to be handled and then I went home. 

The air is hot. I’m just in here with me. 

For some reason, I talk a lot at work today. I talk way more than usual. I make people laugh. I get told I’m funny. I get told that I should do stand-up. I confess that in my 20s, I sorta tried that. I told him it didn’t go so well because I half-assed it and I didn’t have a god damn thing to say. He asked me if I think I do now. I said, yeah but I didn’t have anything unique to say. 

I didn’t try so hard at stand-up. Maybe it wasn’t for me. I don’t know. 

Thing is though, I took some risks in the way that I perform me and someone liked it. 

I like that. 

That was cool. 

Therapy

Second therapy session today. 

I don’t really give a fuck what anyone says. You are only going to be so comfortable telling a stranger that you’re paying about your life. 

It’s a weird thing to say, “This is the type of childhood that I had, this is what school was like for me and this is where I ended up as a result.” 

I get asked the question, “You like to write yet you work in IT. How does that happen?”

Yeah man. It just kinda fucking happened and I don’t know how to get paid to do anything else. 

In some kinda half-asleep state some time this morning or last night, it occurred to me that life is a trip. Yeah, I mean trip in a similar sense to a trip one might take on psilocybin mushrooms or LSD. Life is the trip. It's all a trip. That sounds like utter bullshit but I mean it. I'm being completely sincere here.

I knew at some point I would touch on my exepriences with psychedelic compounds. I just didn't really know it would be today. I am not a veteran psychonaut by any stretch of the imagination and it's not something I ever thought I'd do. If you told me a decade ago that I would develop an interest in psychedelics, I would have thought you were quite insane. My experience at this current time has been exclusively with psilocybin mushrooms which are popularly known as "magic mushrooms."

The first thing I became aware of even at relatively low doses of psilocybin was my personality coming apart. Basically, I would become aware of all the parts that make up me. All of these parts are distinct.

There is a part of me that freaks out almost instantly and is basically a slave to fear. I was acutely aware of the sound of this part's voice, its presence.

There is another part that is calm, analytical. It speaks in soothing tones. It's wise. It says, "Hey. You're just tripping, dog. It's okay."

There is yet another part that is suave, ultrasexual and rarely seen by anyone really.

I can also recall being aware of the words I was saying internally being audible as a whisper in my head or something similar.

It's almost a given that I'm going to cry during a trip. I don't mind this much.

Visual hallucinations really don't intrigue me that much. It's about the thoughts that come to me.

I'm barely scratching the surface here.

I'm typing this on my phone at work. I'm trying to not look as idle as I actually am. I'm playing the part of the dutiful employee. In less than an hour, I plan on sneaking out of here. There isn't jack shit anyone can do about it.

I managed to get an appointment scheduled with a therapist on Monday.

I guesss I'll end on that note.

Checking in

I’m checking in cuz I got nothing better to do. It’s Friday night and I got nowhere to go and no one to see. I’m down here in the room I rent. I’m down here in the only sanctuary I got from the outside world. It’s pretty bare and it’s got nearly everything I own in it. I’m very well aware of the fact that the world could be fucking me in the ass a lot harder than it currently is. I’m thankful that it isn’t fucking me all that hard. 

I’m the office’s computer guy and I live in mortal fear of the technical issue that will make me just fucking quit. I’m okay at computers. I don’t live for ‘em. I think I’ve said before that this computer thing is the only skill I’ve managed to figure out how to monetize. 

I live with strangers. I see one of my roommates nearly every day. It’s usually right when I walk in the door. He’s a young guy in his late 20s. He wears a beard. He’s an auto technician. He’s a fan of the Houston Astros. He always says hi to me. He’s okay. 

Survived a stressful period. Shit felt like the Odyssey but that’s bullshit. It was terrifying but it wasn’t all that interesting. It’s one of those mundane things that fucking terrifies you. 

I’m just writing. I’m not trying to make anything pretty. Just felt the need or maybe I tell myself I feel the need so I can feel fucking special. I’m not special. Some day I’m going to be okay with that or maybe I fucking won’t. 

My diet has been so incredibly shitty my entire life that I’m genuinely shocked that I’m still alive. 

I barely know how to wipe my own ass. 

Do I pat myself on the back for making the effort? 

My attention span is piss poor. I wish it wasn’t. 

Fucking porn bots like and follow me. That shit is depressing. Porn bots are sad. You think, a kindred spirit but no it’s “Veronica” wanting to introduce you to all her kinky friends. 

So yeah. I’m 36 years old and I left my parent’s house for the 2nd time. It ain’t paradise but I feel just fine about it. No Trump propaganda to try not to hear. That makes a world of difference. That shit is poison for the soul. 

That’s all I got. 

Random embarrassing fact #1

When I was in high school, I used to play this game on the Internet called Harsh Lands. It was a MUD. Basically, it was this text based medieval game world with a heavy emphasis on in-character roleplaying. You stayed in-character. You talked like your character at all times no matter what. You did what your character did. My character was this deeply religious warrior who rose to the rank of Master Sergeant in The Tashal Watch. The Watch was the organization in charge of keeping the peace in the city of Tashal which was the largest city in the Kingdom of Kaldor as I recall. I was the highest ranking player character lawman so I was basically the law in that city. After I retired that character, I played a thug/enforcer type who was a member of the Lia Kavair. The Lia Kavair were basically a medieval Mafia. They were a den of thieves, assassins, racketeers. My character roughed people up who needed roughing up, extorted people, menaced people and on one occasion even killed someone. I remember spending a lot of time ruminating on this character's guilt for having taken a life to the point where I made myself pretty much a wreck in real life. I should mention something about death in this game. Death was permanent. If you died, there was no coming back and starting over after losing some gear or whatever. You were dead. As you can imagine, that made shit pretty intense at times. This sounds nerdy and dumb and it was but it was incredibly fun to collaborate with other people and create stories.

You gotta know why you're doing something, don't you?