Wednesday, October 10th, 2017

Nothing. There is not a single thing that I want to do. No scratch that, there are plenty of things I want to do but i kind of just stare out into space instead of doing anything. I want to write but can’t think of a single to say so i stare. Its almost like im not here. Dead, i’m fucking dead inside. I think life won and crushed me. Just motions, robotic motions until one day it’s all over. It’s so fucking sad. I mean I’ve been at least mildly depressed since I was 14 but this now, fuck. I don’t even know if I have emotions; i sit in my office 5 days a week, 9-5 and stare.

How’d it get to this? I think the condition of my physical body contributes to a large degree. Constant pain makes everything and i mean everything so much worse than it is. example: waking up in the morning sucks. waking up in the morning with half of your joints subluxated sucks much more. So mornings are horrible and painful and takes about 45 minutes until I can start getting my shit together, argue with my son about school and then go sit in my specially ordered $500 chair and spend the following 8 hours putting my knees and hips back into place. Then I go home which by then i’m so drained (being in constant pain takes a lot of fucking energy, try it) that all i want to do is rip off the clown clothes i wear to work and do or whatever it is that makes me feel slightly better (things that make me feel better vary- sometimes lay down, others well, lay down more, sometimes drink, sometimes things i wont mention though this really the equivalent just not specific). Then argue with my son about going to bed and fuck this, i’m done.

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Perpetual Monday

Here it is again, the worst day of the week, Monday. The weekends go so fast that it always seems like its Monday; perpetual Monday. The days of the week are as follows:
Monday
Monday
Monday
Monday
Saturday Eve
Saturday
Monday Eve
It’s just always here, it’s always fucking Monday


Here it is
its Monday again
The weekends done and
work begins

A paper shuffle
is the life
that we’re told is really nice

Khakis, Prozac, scotch, fast-food
to keep us all a bit subdued

Please don’t think
you’re not trained for that
There’s systems in place
Do your job just get fat

Just sleep my friend
as gentle babes
Little worker bees
For kings as slaves

2 days rest
To work on endless chores
As stressed out minds
Can’t dream of more

Monday comes here round again
And just like that
The weekends done
and work begins


Monday is the furthest point from the weekend, which, as stated above, is really not restful or all that relaxing at all. The only reason why weekends are better is that the asshole your answering to is yourself. So really, except for maybe a few hours between both Friday night and Saturday in which you can actually go out with your (enter status of your significant other here), truly be free and enjoy the company of each other it’s all horrible.

Its sad that I view my existence like that. Don’t get me wrong, i love my wife and son and wouldn’t trade them for anything but it’s hard to come to terms with the fact that this is all there is. Work, aging, failing health and death after years and years of pain. (see the tab “ehlers danlos” for explanation of health and pain).

I think im going to end it here for now.

.

How much did your childhood fuck you up?

Let’s pretend, that’s always fun. I have a appendectomy scar that’s about 3.5 inches, this was before they had laparoscopic surgery so it’s quite noticeable. I used to tell people that I was stabbed by “some crazy bitch I used to date.” I could keep the straightest face; like I almost believed myself.

So what’s the point of this?

Pretending is the point. I’ve always said that I don’t care about what others think of me that I know who and what I am. Other people have no effect on my thought process. That’s a lie though. We’re all products of our environment and each thought and choice has a direct effect on the next and so on and so forth.

I was talking to my friend of almost 20 years last night and we were reminiscing about the past and memories that stuck with us from childhood and how each one of those situations influenced how we saw and reacted to the next and ultimately how the cumulation of life events leads to your current thought process and life view.

When I was about 14 I started smoking pot pretty much daily which caused massive issues at home as my parents were completely brainwashed by drug war propaganda. So all the fights, contacts with police, being locked out of the house numerous times and issues at school formed how I view these institutions today. But it could have been completely different. How? What if my parents were like “okay, obviously i’d prefer you not smoking pot at 14 but as long as you do all the shit your supposed to do fine, I’ll deal with it.” I’d probably have a totally different life view than one shaped by being thrown into a residential rehab for  6 months after smoking pot 3 or 4 times. That shit fucked me up.

So I don’t know, this post was going to be “Let’s pretend you’re rich” with a stupid poll with stupid answers but clearly it’s become something else.

Maybe this then:

I kept trying to add “Fuck you John” as an option but it just won’t show up in the poll, i guess you could always just type it yourself.

 

*UPDATE* “Fuck you john” seems to be the clear winner

 

Let’s give a 6 year old a slingshot

So, I’ve been meaning to write about this for about 2-3 weeks now and am finally doing it. It’s pretty awesome.

My wife, she’s an intelligent woman, masters degree and all. (yes, we all know degrees do not equal intelligence so shut up please). Well, a few weekends ago we were both busy doing shit around the house. I can’t remember what but we didn’t have attention for a child at that point. So my wife, my intelligent, loving wife says to my son, who, as much as I love I have no issues saying that he can ware me the fuck out, she says, here, take this sling shot and go outside.

*Fuck, it’s clear as day that nothing good is going to come from this             but i’m not there to stop it.

“Go outside and you can shoot rocks at the wall on the side of the house” she says. Easy entertainment and a happy boy.

Well it took about 5 minutes until there was a hole in the kitchen window. Which, way the fuck do you think anything else would have happened? So shit, you’d think I’d off the deep end, start hollering like a lunatic but no, I was cool calm and collected and just stared at the perfect dime sized hole in the window.

Immediately I start thinking about how I could patch it up cause you know, I’m not getting new glass and replacing a window on a Sunday afternoon. Eventually I settle on some UL 181 aluminum foil tape and cardboard squares. My smart wife has a better idea though, way better.

Please see below:

So here is the hole, i guess it’s almost a half dollar size

broken-window-2

 

Here’s the fix

broken-window-1

 

That is a bunch of those plastic arts and crafts beads that she previously melted together to make sun catchers. Well luck was on side that day. I super glued one on the inside and another on the outside and that hole is sealed perfectly. Yes, my home is now held together by super glue but guess what, I don’t give a fuck. It works and looks pretty. When it stop working i’ll repair it the correct way, whatever that is.

#Noise

A Performance piece of Abstract poetry titled Facebook: the evolution and collapse of random post

This is, i’m calling it abstract poetry. Enjoy the show as a single comment evolves from nonsense into a, i’m not really sure what to call it but maybe a pseudo rap that touches on our current societal woes and devolves back into nonsense.  Also, i just think it’s kind of funny. –  I call this #noise

FB VIN_2

FB VIN_1

A hole in the head for your mental health

You know, I’ve had this post set as private for so long because “dear jebus, people who don’t know or give a fuck about me can’t know this is how i think” (the handful of people who do, don’t give me shit, you know this is how i am) but you know what, i don’t care. I let that shit go. Just letting go man and trying to enjoy the ride. So with that…..

Sometimes I swear I just want to fucking kill myself. I’ve thought this way ever since I remember, well like 13-14 somewhere around there. I don’t really remember too much from before I was 12 which is weird and upsets my mom because she thinks that makes her a bad mother. I fuck with her and say it must have been so traumatic I blocked it out but I don’t think that’s the truth.

So anyway, suicide huh, like I’m going to start a joke but it’s going to end really badly. I don’t know about anyone else but everything has always seemed so stupid and pointless to me. Like here, “Go to school so you can get a job and pay bills FOR THE REST OF YOUR LIFE”. Why? What the fuck is the point of that? Why do I want to do that? I don’t! I also don’t want to be homeless and I’m not healthy enough(EDS bitches. but really, who cares.) or knowledgeable enough to live off the land so my options are go to work and pay bills or kill myself. I don’t know how many more years I want to pay bills.

So here’s the real fucking kicker, I went ahead and had a child. Are you fucking kidding me man? Me, who says I should sue my parents for having me as I did not consent to this bullshit, had a fucking child. And you know what, he’s just like me, I can see it. He’s depressive and his joints, I hear and see them do the same thing as mine so he’s going to be totally fucked but by the time he’s an adult the world will be exponentially worse. Income inequality, societal and or economic collapse, only rich or poor and guess what, you’ll be poor. That’s it, fucking debt slaves for the rich in a toxic wasteland that we all willingly created along the way for that big house, new T.V, phone, cheap clothes and shiny car all the while the shackles were being locked around our legs and we smiled when approved financing for a kitchen remodel. Fucking sick.

So I don’t understand anyone who doesn’t want to kill themselves. What kind of sick fuck wants to be part of this? Oh find the joy, find things you like, create your own meaning. Your joy of whatever you do is just part of the cycle of consuming shit and you’re still a puppet you just don’t think so because you found “meaning” but your meaning doesn’t change the underlying, systemic, planned and executed atrocities everyday in order to maintain the current systems of power. That will never change. This isn’t an educational post though so i’ll stop there.

I don’t mean to go off on a crazy man rant but that’s just pretty much how I feel about society and I often don’t want to be part of it. I could go on about money, the point of it, the lack of it, the abundance of it and really, the nothingness of it. How a digital credit created from thin air rules and values our lives but I won’t though I kind of just did. It’s draining and I’m tired enough already. Couple the realities of the world, life long depression with my physical health and I’m fairly certain that a hole in the head is an eventuality.

I guess that’s really it, need to get to work so I can pay my bills. I’m trying to wait until my son is an adult, I really don’t want to fuck him up any more than being alive already does.

-Disclaimer: Don’t fucking kill yourself because you read this. That’s weak. Find your own reasons.

A Broken Camera

When digital cameras were getting to be the norm my wife and I bought a fairly expensive one, it was like $350.00. I liked it, thought it took some decent pictures though I could be wrong.

river

We got into walking around and taking photographs and I’d fuck with them in photoshop. We got, what I think, are some decent shots, arty and shit. I put a few in this post, obviously. There are better ones but this is what I found one the computer I’m using now.

spider

bird tree Sometime latter we attended the wedding of one her friends. It was really nice, in some old church in Miami. I always liked weddings, not so much the ceremony but the reception and open bar. A wedding without an open bar or at least a cash bar, i think, sucks. I don’t want to go hangout with a bunch of people I don’t know and be sober doing it. Some alcohol as social lubricant is required. We had an open bar at our wedding. I actually didn’t even really drink that night nor did my wife. We were too busy getting pulled from too many angles; it was fun though. I hope everyone else had fun. Anyway, so we’re at this wedding and we’re drinking and talking and dancing and my wife dropped the camera. It broke. It was a pretty disappointing occurrence.

We never replaced the camera. We said we would but we never did. It’s been probably 6-7 years now. Just another one of those things that die through inaction. I guess that’s it. It almost sounded like this was going to be a metaphor for our relationship or that I had something interesting to say but the longer I wrote the clearer it became  that I didn’t.

“We said we would but we never did. Another thing that died. Now we just watch t.v from the couch, sitting there doing nothing like that broken camera on our shelf.” But I didn’t say that, we do other things.

cropped bay

Actually, the camera on my wife’s phone takes some pretty decent pictures.

phone camera

The longer I look at it I wonder that this might be the best one in the post.