BOONDOCKS!!!

Is probably my very favourite cartoon and comic. One of the only lights I have in my life at the moment is that season three of the cartoon is going to start one week from today. That makes life bearable when it is all so very crazy. Here’s hoping, that by next Sunday night I’ll be sitting here all alone, with Oliver chillin’ upstairs, noone squatting in my basement, and just a couple of cool cats wandering about taking care of their important cat business.

I wish Aaron McGruder would be our next house-mate...

Samsara, you’re soaking in it

I am having a very difficult time personally. I also have a severely problematic situation at home. Last night the stress was so bad I only had 2 hours of sleep, only to go to work and have my client stroke out on me. I feel so very strange. I hate my life at the moment. This could mean I lose my job. Samsara is a superbitch.

It is risen

I got me a fresh sheet of virtual paper and I roll it into the carriage...

I think I’ve been sick of typing. I’ve even found it difficult to effectively do e-mail, and that is one of the few ways to reliably get ahold of me. The FaceBook, 2-3 sentences and I’m out, has been de rigeur around here.

It was a really harsh winter around La cerise de chateau, maison du fumeur de detente. So right now forsythia is like the breath of the atman made manifest on earth.

I had a really, tremendously, bad bout of infection that started just before Thanksgiving. For the most part I missed all the holidays. On Thanksgiving itself I was too sick to even walk next door. About a week of 104 fevers. Since then it’s been a long, slow, road back.

I popped into UBU’s one of the very first good days, that was a good thing, getting out, into town, having lunch. Now I have have to pop back and give him back the books I bought as well as a few additional. I find myself in the market to get rid of, in some cases sell, books. That is something I’ve never been good at at all. It feels pretty free to be in a place where I can let a book go deliberately as opposed to losing it.

I’m ready to let more things go.
I have started sorting out anything I don’t have a pretty legitimate claim on to be sent back. I’m watching the hoarders and I don’t want to be there or leave that for someone else to deal with. Keep the precious and let the chaff blow away. That’s the new mantra. There will be a porch sale this year.

On not going tharn

Decisions have been made and plans are being enacted. The great year long experiment of trying psych meds is over. I quit.

Well, to be scrupulously honest, I am quitting the systemic Buproprion and keeping the as needed Ativan. I have designed my step down program (and was told I was being too meticulous and to hasten) to get it out of my system. I will be done in fourteen days or less. (As opposed to the twenty-one days or more I had proposed).

So in future, while I still may be snotty, I will have the opportunity to experience other emotions as well. Which is all “hurrah for me”, as having a totally flat affect except for anger and anxiety was really, really, harshing my mellow, cramping my style, and all those other, turd in the punchbowl, type euphemisms, analogies and metaphors.

Now to be again, perfectly honest, I am being encouraged to try a different approach once my system has cleared out and normalized. Cymbalta was suggested. I have to admit that those commercials give me the green envies. All that “depression hurts” (yes, yes it does,) “Cymbalta can help” (Oh really? Ya promise?) does tweak my “I wish this was just fixed already, deep down, Stepford is bliss, can’t this be simplified so I can just do my bills like a normal person” jones.

I am however, taking a wait and see approach. Because as much as I am terrified of withdrawal from this fairly innocuous script, I am really terrified of SSRI’s. There are few things worse than coming down and/or withdrawal. It just takes all the fun out of drugs.

Chemical Castration

I’ve been having a bit of a “flat affect.” You may not have noticed.

So “we” are trying some new things. Massive doses of vitamin D3 is one. Three weeks after taking 5000 IU’s a day my levels are up into the bottom ranges of normal. Therefore I assume, that there was in fact, a previous deficit. Even though it’s one of the least expensive supplements I’ve ever gotten I am glad to say I can now drop on down to 3000 IU’s. Every little bit it helps.

Also it would appear that somewhere a hypo-thyroid thing appeared. I am being told that this nifty new pill will put some zippy in my pip. Am I pzipy yet? You tell me.

Then there’s the perennial favourite, which is that it is no longer February and early March in Michigan. This winter was a straight out bitch. What a long drawn out drag.

And there is the slow burn, subtle furious-ness at government and their insistence and propaganda that as a fat smoker I am THE embodiment of THE problem. Slow burn hatred is never good for my productivity. But again, I’m sure noone noticed.

And there you have it, the word castration is coming from the Greek word kaezein.
And that’s a cheesy movie reference, if you don’t get it it really can’t be helped.

Bus ride blogging

I think I have figured out why I have been a complete wreck, for months, about this election. I’m thinking it has taken the weight of the oppression beginning to lift off to get some clear vision about it.

Call me paranoid or cynical or even nihilistic (the latter of which I would aver strongly) but I have been living under the apprehension and conviction that at any moment, jackbooted thugs (or as Nigel points out, innocuous looking, civilian dressed, death squads) could potentially come kicking my door down and I could just “disappear” merely for thought crimes, for just being who I am.

One might think that perhaps I shouldn’t read books like “1984” or “The Handmaids Tale” or magazines like “The Objectivist” because apparently, even more so than when I saw “Night Of The Living Dead” unedited, at night, at a theatre when I was 10 or 11, and then had nightmares about it for like, 15 years, these socially apocalyptic books apparently have infiltrated my thought stream on the very subtlest of levels and work around in my gizzards when I don’t even realize they are festering so deeply.

In my pamphlet I’ve been working on, about proverbs and lies, one of the first lies I wrote down was “people don’t just disappear”. Because they do, indeed, just disappear ALL THE TIME. It just happens a lot less here than in say, Brazil or Darfur or China. And I think the likelihood of it happening here was increasing every year that the warlock/criminals calling themselves Republicans were in power. Another lie which Frank Zappa reminded us not to believe was “it can’t happen here”.
So, I really hope that with all the flowers and unicorns and sunshine everyone is grooving on (which I don’t blame anyone, it does feel really good at the moment), that we all brace ourselves to do the work, to try to accomplish what needs to be done to try and make this a country where at least it happens here less often.

No promises, and knock on simulated wood veneer...

But, maybe, I’m back.

It is still rough, ruff, ruffe, but I feel a little less paralyzed in all lobes of my monkey mind.

Sorry for the freakout/bailout but that’s what happens when your blogger has “issues”. One of which is literally overwhelming anxiety from it being an election season. Man, do I have a hard time processing all that shite. It’s as if it has the properties of a big, sticky wad of suffocating, smeary, putrid, plasticene. And then it’s as if it was shot straight into my mainline just clogging up all my functions and trying to beak apart my heart. Why does it always have to be in fall when I am already struggling through a major seasonal affective shift? As well as why are people such little bitches about it all?

For those in the know

We’re experiencing another rash of Uncle Bunny setbacks. So send vibes, thoughts, whatevs you gots his direction. I wouldn’t mind if you sent some to my family as well, as that situation deteriorated as well.

Interfacing

Since Nigel has moved in we have gone on two, count ‘em two, outings. This is highly unusual for me. Being out in public, being around people. I think this issue is related to me not being able to register at a new school. I have my comfort zone that I can handle at school and it took a lot to feel OK there and I’m just a little too tired right now to do it again.

But anyway, I got off the bus at North campus and went to two different art shows. One was “Aging With Attitude”. All the artists were elderly or looking to their elderly future. There was some very cool stuff. This was sponsored by the “Blueprint On Aging” agency I was working for until last Thursday.

Then I went over to the “Inmate Art” opening. I saw some people I knew both on the walls and at the show. My old friends Randy and Kim for example. I can use their real names because he does all the framing every year and his name is all over everything. They and their myriad small people were hanging out. I had never even seen these small people before. It’s been a long, long time. I saw Buzz Alexander for the first time since probably 1986. I used to hang out with his kid. I saw a lot of familiar faces that I see around but don’t know personally.

The art was amazing. I only liked about a third of it, but even the stuff I didn’t care for was like getting constantly punched in the stomach. One of the most poorly executed was one of the most intense. Simple coloured pencil. A hooker in fishnets, working the purse, with 666 tattooed on her forehead. Standing next to a 6 eyed, 6 horned devil pimp working a phone and a fax machine. Various minions in the background. titled “Sealed For Life”. My girl can’t really draw but she knew exactly what she wanted to say.
Then there were several pieces by a guy named Frankie Davis. Way out of my price range or I would have bought one on the spot. There is a name for the style but I can’t recall it. Everything is done in coloured pencil. Everything is flat, no depth. No shading. Very stylized. I guess it’s considered some kind of primitive. One was the gardens of Iraq. Another was called “Opening Day” and was a cornfield. The corn is in rows going up, there’s no perspective. Very Incan and Egyptian. Then there were word banners where the crows were discussing the hunting. I can’t describe it, dancing about architecture and all that.
I looked him up on MDOC today. That makes it all the stranger.

Synchronous

“Having the same period and phase”
It’s odd. Repeatedly.
Just when things are bad, quite bad. And I’m angry, so angry. And depressed. An odd series of events frequently occurs. They don’t have to be big, just oddly arising out of the muck (like the spontaneously arising lotus) which, if I’m paying attention, remind me that this is how real magic works. In it’s time. For my ultimate benefit. And without force and manipulation. Not to buy me a cadillac, but to remind me that there is some method to this madness.

Can’t focus, need chocolate

• The student 'zine apparently now hates me, they print only one, of my worst poems, each time. I’m starting to feel patronized.

• Perhaps we shall hear the pitter of little patters? The vet has spoken that Little ghee likely needs a boy toy. We begin a searing and painful search this week.

• Thursday, Thursday, Thursday. Last day before holiday break. Christ you know it ain’t easy....

• I think I’m a senior Betty.

• Chilean Sea Bass. Lightly panfried, HOT PAN, after rolling in herbs, spices and flour then baked at 500, HOT PAN, for 6 minutes = Frickin’ totally fabulous.

• (A • C) ~ (C v A) write a truth table for that! (You only need 4 lines).

• Thursday, Thursday, Thursday. Kant vs. Mill in the battle of the centuries, @ the my brain arena, blood WILL spill. (Probably from my ears).

• The Eye Of The Sybil by Phillip K. Dick, soon to join Ridley Walker by Russell Hoban, in “The Best Things College Has Exposed Me To Hall Of Fame”.

It’s nice to be heard, and thank you

Did I call for divine intervention? Was it granted? Yes and yes.
Opened up shop on the computer this am only to find that due to a water main break there is no school today! Whoot!

AND I had just finished up all my homework, so other than reviewing for exams for next week and a little light sci-fi reading for Monday I’m cool on all that. Paid all the bills and got the paperwork dealt with which is a major anxiety weight off my shoulders. As well as that while I may be technically broke, what money there is, is mine all mine.

Think I’ll go wrap the wedding present that has been hanging fire, getting that out of the way while it’s early, then actually get the dining room table cleared of all the nagging that had been.

Now we gotta think of something cool to do. I’m for going to the water of some kind. Down to the river or something.

So, later skaters, I’m off to do some stuff to make my life work.

Blame it on the boogie

Blame everything on the yard sale
No really. It really is it’s fault. It put me so far behind in everything:
School reading
Housework (and created extra)
Bill Paying
Eating properly
Blogging

I have had to just get my hyper-focus on all week and put my life back together. So that’s that and that’s all done. Now I have to go uptown and try to undue some of the damage neglecting the bills has done. I may have lost my safe deposit box. That would really suck.....

i haven’t even had time to read the newspaper since Sunday. I keep buying ‘em, they keep piling up, maybe tomorrow.....

And I was doing so well.

Yep I was having a good, non-phone-ophobic, day. Made 8 important calls and got through them all fine. Now I am having an anxiety attack with 3 still on the to-do list.
I can always tell when I start searching the ‘net for random, meaningless people and things and getting frustrated because I can’t find them or am not feeling fulfilled somehow. Next thing you now the heart is starting to race and I get REALLY antsy and don’t know what to do with myself. Time for Atavan or something similar.

Scrofulous Humours

Well-
Uncle Bunny is back in the hospital
Little ghee ended up at the vet with fever
I’m in bed waiting for gross things to come spewing out of my stomach

I get just tired of labs and offices and waiting rooms.
Pills and doses and needles.
I’m tired of bed
sick of tired
Waiting waiting waiting