I can feel it in the air tonight is a perfect first line for tonights live brain trascript. I packed a big bowl and toked some deep bowls.
This is on top of the last of my acid.
But it’s there… closure on my terms. This trip is not the first to have that feeling of, been here, done nothing.
I did some wild hynosis up till the point of premature ejaculation out of sync with the recording.
Then, I decided to start typing. I think I could be done. I enjoyed my sobriety quite a bit, but it was enforced.
I do recal as a strong memory, that my father quit smoking on his first try. Now of course I didn’t know the man enough to know whether this was a lie, or a performance for me, and he spent two additional years secret smoking. Regardless of the reality, the story is told that he quit cold turkey, first tryy. I respected him for that, because my mother took years to finally give them up. She was there trying all the fad quit smoking systems. I have a visual memory of one plan where her buts stayed in a visable jar on the table.
That was gross, but once you got past that, it was just furniture. I remember Joe Casale taught me a few things in life, one of them being, that signs only “work” for a very short time. Signs get noticed when they are new, and in the field of view. Once noticed, they become part of the furniture, like the art on the wall in a video game. It’s invisible.
It works the same with smell, or sound. WHen it surrounds us, we notice it, and then it becomes part of our background. We get nose blind to the pet odours, or weed scent. Our noses memorize, and merge into the wall art where we can ignore it.
Sadly, it’s also why people don’t know when they stink.
When my drug high, is part of the background, and once I feel the high, from that point forward, it’s like “far oit man”… what were we talking about?
WHen I get high, and then almost insntly think, what the fuck am I going to do for the next 8 hours that will keep me smiling?
And I watch TV.
Acid trips with tolerance is a waste. Time would be far better served being with somebody. Doing something.
BAM. Negativity bomb. Feeling sorry for myself.
I have always looked at both extrememes when I contemplate my depression at the end of a high.
I could be a lot worse, and I’m pissed I haven’t figured out how to make it work for me.
Maybe I need an agent, but I’m so terrified of life still, I need to find a mate. A partner.
I went on a blind date this Friday.
I had an enjoyable time, and am happy with how much I’ve improved in my dating, but I was still a Jackass and shared waaaaay too much.
A nervous ejection of my entire life, blurted out, perhaps at a manic pace, I can’t remember without negative bias.
I didn’t feel the spark.It has made me re-evaluate my favourite saying;
CLICK or CLASH
An almost instant decision you make. The smile changes me.
But I just really enjoy conversation with some people, and not, with others. Not everyone can …
Memory recaps from my date, replay in my mind like a picture in picture flashback.
I click, or clash.
But I am learning there are many levels of each. I think I don’t vibe a romantic warm touchable person. My body language is probably still based on high anxiety and a deep fear… although I’m still working out, fear of what.
I have lived non romantic lives with three five women. SOme tried romance, but each was a close, platonic relastionship of mutual respect.
Having a partner is my greatest joy. A purpose. An audience, and a smile.
I was horrible, in my head, and if I could remember it all, I could write a sitcom.
I don’t particularly want my awkwardness and sexual inexperience to be the punchline, although I will not hesitate to throw anybody under the bus for the laugh.
A friend recently said this:
Are you kidding me?
You don’t think you’re a comedian?
Dude. You are SOOO a commedian.
It made me smile. I think of that word as a title. A position you achieve, by … blank…
Yeah, I’m a funny guy, in everyday life. I punchline the life around me, constantlky. WIth my new confidence, sometimes I even bring strangers into it.
I talk to straners now. All the time.
I say the kinds of things I’ve always thought up, but kept silent in that office elevator, or crowded cofeeshop.
I used to cringe when the people I was with would interup, aditate, or annoy a stranger. I felt a strong flood of empathy for the emotions I created for that stranger.
I would avert my eyes and look away disavowing any affilications when others talk to strangers. It mentally injurs me to see idiocy, or bullshit.
It sometimes hard to walk through a BEST BUY and listen to a sales pitch to a family. I remember my days as a salesman, selling Commodore 64’s and Amigas. I like to think I was better than these Best Buy bullshitters, and maybe in some ways I was, but I bullshitted too.
I’d love to say I never made something up about the product, or promised it would do something it would not. I took endorsements seriously.
There are few things that make me happier, more then a sales support customer I can stay in touch with for the rest of my life, or theirs.
I got lost.
I strayed away from the points with a fierce side focus spurt.
In summary, I think I was trying tosay, I’m about done for now anyway.
It’s not fun anymore to outweigh the down sides. I can hibernate the drugs away until I forget, or have a 3 day holiday.
… or forever. It will be a decsion I have to make every time I break sobreity again. The longer I can get in between the desire to get high again returns, the better.
I don’t need to re-order. I will make a choice each time.
I say this, and then offer a disclaimer statement, read at double speed at the end of my time.
Side effects may include thoughts of sucide or self harm. Is that statement really repeated over and over on every channel in the usa? I wonder how many time a day a single channel might mention sucicia=dal thoughts or actions.
I will run out and start a new clock… like getting a 30 day chip, every 30 dys… except without the shame. 31 days is a success.
As part of the life phiolosophoes I’m working on, I create pride points in my head for moments where I can feel pride. Staying siber could be my newest game. Go for the new record, reset, go for the new record…
The dealer always wins.
Brain empties. Too much to type. First date waseither horriblr or adorable, but I have no idea how to proceed.
I cant seem to board that dating plane. I can hang out at the airport…
snap. Dont get lost in the metaphor.
End of part 1.
stop the press. dont hit update just yet.
… yeah, ok. nevermind. Im going to attemot a thinking vacation for a bit.
I’ll unpause the new MacGiver episode I paused an hour ago, before those huge tokes.
It was neat to see Yarkof Smirnoff on screen again. That guy was just likeable enough that a get a smile when I see him on TV playing whatever Rushian the script calls for.
I use the callback; In Rushia, blank comes to you… or however I model it to the need.
breath. ok. break.