Let’s start with it.  Drugs are kinda my thing,  more so after 50 than before,  but really –  as far 0 0 0 back as I have memories,  I have been fascinated with getting high,  but too good to actually O it till quite late.  I use 27 in my stories as the start of everything.

Around the same time I learned A. D. D.  Was a thing,  and it explained so much of my life.  I started over thinking,  taking after my father’s obcessive tendencies and my mother’s anxiety and what they used to call manic depressive.  I never knew till years later,  but all the memories I can recall vividly were of my mother’s unhappiness.

Not true.  They were just the first ones that came to mind.  I remember how shocked I was to read my mother’s university essays,  for which she was receiving A’s.

I struggle with the idea of editing while I write.  It almost always causes me to lose my flow and the story breaks.  I wanted to write about the previous mini story,  and whether or not it needs to be told.

I am the keeper of my stories.
I write my own story and stories.
Everything in my head is my interpretation of a second hand story or actual live event.

I learned my mother wasn’t very smart at some things,  and I was sometimes embarrassed.  My father called her stupid a lot,  often to tears but I didn’t actually understand till much later how irritating it might be to live with a person you can’t use logic to settle disputes.

We are seeing that happening now in the USA.  Logic doesn’t work against a belief because changing a belief means it was wrong. Nobody wants to fold first but they all know they’re bluffing.  If they were not told to be against sex,  abortion and change,  they would not be.

Religion is Santa for many people,  and the crazy bats hit faith is a part of it.  It mocks you and asks you to have faith it is true.

L Rob Hubbard got it.  He realized the power of community and a single mindset, is easier to control.  He made up the religion part from a failed novel and asked his followers to believe.  You’ve got to really believe.

I got lost.  Where are my marshmallows?

Ah yes.  Drugs.

Let me recap my life growing up as best I can in a paragraph that would fit on a JPEG in a cool,  not quite Arial font.  Orange.

I was always content in my situation.

Yadda yadda yadda

I chose drugs over sex,  and avoided women till I was 32. My first kiss and sex was with the first women I ever had a second date with,  and it only happened because she called me back.  I didn’t have to ask.

I found a way to explore my inner mind and the universe I live in,  every once in a while. After 50, that increased and became a problem which I have cut back from significantly.

However,  I choose not to live without drugs,  and every day I get closer to actually making an ask.  Doing something.   Discussing a real first step,  which is to hire an assistant that doesn’t have A. D. D.  And get things done.

I am now working while high on side projects.  For too long I have had the ideas on weed,  but they were always never spoken of again.  What you invent in the smoke,  stays in the smoke.

–

I remember the first time I saw That 70’s show and the walls moving.

—

This is a truth.  I strongly suspect I will die from something related to the drugs,  or my weakness because of the drugs.  I know full well that I might die any time I get high,  especially since I tend to get VERY high on quantities I don’t even confess to in my p[etsonaljournals.

There is a sound I heard on the radio once…  CBC in the kitchen from a 1960’s am radio my Dad called screech,  often quite loudly.  He hated that radio and my mother would not change.

The sound is an audio trick which sounds like it is increasing up a scale,  but never actually does.  It is the eicher drawing in a sound.

That sound is an analogy of my life,  since I was a child.  I have optimism that I do not know what will happen tomorrow,  but I bet it’ll make a Greta story.

I always feel like I am nearing the hill of completion.  I always feel like I’m about to hit it big.

I never do.  I am the tone walking up a down escalator.  Energy spent,  forward motion,  negative.

I want to say,  this time it feels different.  It’s still slow,  but I’m actually doing things.

My negative voice has a while voice.   Don’t be so shuuuure he whispers.  You’re still on that home square.  Feeling like you accomplished isn’t like dreaming of basketball.  It doesn’t make it happen.

I’m still really just being creative while high,  and terrified to read it tomorrow because…

“Everything I write is perfect,  until I share”

There is a fer I will lose my happiness and pride if a second set of eyes sees it.  Is it # judge worthy?  That is an absurd question.

Drugs.  I am having great enjoyment getting high and thinking about the universe and the world and people’s brains.  I know I babble like a mad man when I’m high,  but it’s so much fun thinking ideas and feeling joy before negative voice,  or a second reader crushes it.

I will probably die from drugs,  and I think it is important for everyone…  Or those who care,  that it was never on purpose.  I talk very casually about suicide being an easy and dignified way out from many problems that face me,  but I also know it’s just talk to comfort me that I will not suffer like others I know.

Part of me does not want a girlfriend because then I have to care.  I have to live and provide.

Part of me knows there is no way I could leave my customers so poorly prepared for my business to suddenly not have me. It would/will be a disaster.

I realize of course that if I were considering it,  I would already have been honest to myself.  I write my own story,  and suffering to keep others happy isn’t actually as important as I’d devoted my life to being likable,  and always bringing a smile and a solution or opinion.

I’ve lived very close to a polite,  respectful,  law abiding,  rule abiding citizen.  I have never run a red light in the middle of the country where the bedrest car is 5 minutes away.  I have never…

Let’s just say,  I’m a good mommas boy.  My parents were very much my Santa.  I wanted them to smile instead of yell at me,  and as I understand it,  I wasn’t very good at it. I was closer to Dennis The MNenace I think.

I even looked a bit like him in this photo.

I am much more terrified of not dieing than dieing.  I don’t want to suffer.  I whine far too much already and I appear to be quite healthy for an overweight sit all day eat horrible food and pop guy.

I am 53, and many people like me die by now.

Add to that,  my tolerance for drugs and the extra quantities I ingest…  I hope my hand isn’t on my cock and my 3D Vr headset complete with battery operated master baton tool that syncs with her speed.

I have a pact with Derek.  He knows to come hide the porn.  I know he won’t.

I didn’t really even discover porn till after 27.

—

Recap,  my life living and working alone is made bearable by the hobby of being creative on drugs and riding the wave of NOW.

End of part 1. Monday.  Bad.  Drugs have kept me up through 6am and will keep me up till late.

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It’s October now. NOW? You just missed it. Happy April Fools, Easter Rabbit, Monday. Confusion.