Happy April Fools, Easter Rabbit, Monday.

I did a bit of work today at about 5pm for less than an hour. One task took only minutes, and yet I’d delayed it almost a week for no reason other than I haven’t been working. I’m torn. I…

I did a bit of work today at about 5pm for less than an hour. One task took only minutes, and yet I’d delayed it almost a week for no reason other than I haven’t been working.

I’m torn. I have so much I want to confess.. err… update to my blog, but it’s bad horrid stuff.

I keep pretending to be the old me, but it’s clear the new Jeff is a drugged out bum.

Secret 1: This is the first month I do not have rent money. Not even close. I saw it coming weeks ahead and I did nothing but the loop. Ignore it during the day as best I can, and then get high and try to fall asleep without thinking about it.

It being life.

My life.

The one I am at a turning point with…

I am not telling the story. I did not make rent. I have it coming by cheque but … for some reason that was the job above that wouldn’t send that cheque till the 30 second task was completed.

I just made that connection right this instant, that I was delaying the cheque which would not be sent till the task was done… and I didn’t even think of that. I assumed the cheque would be sent… ding. It doesn’t matter because today was probably a law office holiday and I did the task so the first available post office day would be Tuesday anyway.

I am about to save that as the story, and commit it to some cells somewhere in my head… but the second voice has to come and remind me that …. I delayed last week too, and cheque could have been mailed on Friday.

BUT HUGE INTERRUPTION.

I had this thought a while ago one day but didn’t write it down, so it was lost until this moment. I made a realization that the second voice doesn’t speak in my head the way my first voice does. My blogs, my videos are all me. The written word is merely a script to my spoken thoughts… or at least I try.

The Second voice that crushes joy with reality and is often tricky and deceitful… has no voice. I just feel the negativity. It is almost like a conscience. I was going to say, it’s mother’s voice… as a term, rather than literal.

Its the Santa I had been using but since updated to that inner voice that vetos stupidity and in my case, tries to protect me by finding reasons to be happy with no.


break. unpause.

Google knows about every drug deal, including the cars of both participants. and homes and regularity and who buys and everything

with my permission, and almost certainly with sharing rights under some fine print, which can be 15 pages these days.

Drugs are a shitty thing to go to prison for… Imean a horrible thing. That would break me.

I’m not pleased. I’m not content and each of us, meaning the two Jeffs. Stoned and sober. We keep vollying the problems over the wall of tomorrow like badminton players, but the shuttlecock in a laundry basket of everything.

To complete that analogy, if I have the courage, will show a photo of my floor.

It is carpeted in dirty laundry. weeks worth. I chose a single motif in clothing. The guy in the striped shirt was exactly the description I was going for. The person remembering that detail in a description might be shared with pride, when the truth of that description is, its as generic as Smith. Apologies to Smiths everywhere. I didn’t… why not just edit it out?

Th point I’m trying to make in my writings is that they are as close to my actual train of thought as can be. I literally am thinking at the speed of my fingers and my second … I pause.

More and more I thrust into the WHY of these writings. Are they a practice round of …

Arrrgh I scream. I can’t figure out how to … truth: How to profit off the uniqueness that is me.

I bailed out of acting early as fear took over enjoyment. Acting might have been the path my player could have taken for success. It seems to fit my puzzle pieces for partnership and praise.

Even small actors get treated with certain respect, and from what I’ve seen a lot of that universe is based on false or forces praise. It makes sense that my type prefers life with instructions, would have loved it there. I don’t remember the exact mood of that decision. Acton District High School, I had been everything from the choir in Superman, inclusive of Asian stereotyping that could bring down a would-be politician if played right.

me.

And that’s not the first time for me. Somebody was looking out for me big time, ding when they published a photo of me as the black kid in Tom Sawyer. I was proud of that role with no second thought. As men who played women through history, if you can’t get the right … whatever. I think it would be a horrible thing if my small town wasn’t almost entirely white, on purpose.

Can I be sued for saying that?

944pm. can the weed overpower… oh yeah. not public.

 


part3 same blog trial. one per night

I considered – blank. shut down, I joke I’m a bit excited about some of the above.

It does occur to me that I might have enough for a book, and edited correctly with today’s multimedia

and then, now sooner than before I stop myself. I stop dreaming.

My truth is I never learned how to be human. I only figured out how to look human. To be clear, I am human as far as I know, but I only have a few memories of my youth, and none of them were of the life lessons parents pass onward. Although this is the only supposition rather than memory, I believe I hid in my room a lot rather than with them. From 0-7 Or perhaps at least 0-5, I would have had no bedroom. My bed/crib was at the other end of their bedroom. I remember the ceiling being pink styrofoam in brown bags for either significant amount or the whole time. I think I had a bedroom at the end, but we moved at 7 and I remember the new bedroom.

Interesting story from the perspective of what I know now, I remember requesting the exact same wallpaper … whoa. I got stumped for a minute with a memory I can’t place. It must be from when I was older, in the town again, a block from the original home… but I was putting that at 18. I wonder how long I lived there.

sorry,

break. 10pm.

optimistic. If I try, slee– no

goodnight Irene

p.s. There is no Irene


A thought. shit.

I leaped from a point of rest with an idea and the secondary story in the queue was about how I might choke on the chocolate bits of the Hershey’s cream eggs. Without teeth, the crumbs stay full size and when laying on my back, I wanted to say lying on my back but that just looks too odd.

Cream egg gone.


I did not participate in April Fools day.

I did not participate in Rabit

I did not participate in March.

I’d be sad if nobody noticed ding footnote 1

I’m sad nobody noticed

how can they not notice this?

In the USA, they have a suicide violence meme issue. Its the in way to commit suicide in the minds of some.

Only the conscience voice can stop everyone…

that is what the purpose of all religion is. To train the conscience voice. To feel enough about consequences rather than image.

The big secret is, that I let down my biggest easy money profit client of them all. I was under renegotiation and I did the only thing I need to never do.

Its possible I did it to them before but I honestly don’t have that memory recalled.

I could very easily go bankrupt in the next 15 days.

My stream of life has turned into shits creek.

not that CBC comedy people now seem to love; Schit’s Creek.

end. I try not to fear the two calls that may start at 8am

I remember. I wonder if my body will miss the sugar more than anything. My candy consumption was … um… was scary.

but that gets thrown over the wall in Thursday’s load.

Then I orgasm once or twice and sleep.

oh. I wanted to close that loop. When my photo was in the paper, I was misnamed. Only now did I think that might have been on purpose or perhaps even request.

A child in bad blackface is currency if they were to be successful enough to hate. You have to choose but luckily, the ignorant half share their side with the I don’t give a crap crowd.

If I were a politician, my name wasn’t in the paper that day.

I’m not running for any office but if I were made to feel bad for that action I say I won’t be. I was a kid in a costume in stage taking it all in. I was in heaven.

I mean, I could have been a tree.


Two huge throat burning tokes.
My waterpipe attachment idea is effort tossed over the wall for another time

I’m afraid of my back pain. No time is good for that month-long agony, this time without magical Advil

end

1042.  Silence was called early, I think.