I think I'm slowing down.
I'm still trying to do everything, but my energy and need to do so has greatly lowered. It's as if I am growing tired. Dr. G might be right. The Abilify needs time to seep into my system. As it does so, I slow down. OR maybe I just had a shitty nap a few minutes ago. Yeah, I was dreaming a very clear dream and my eyes opened as if I had them closed in my dream first. I got up dizzy and achy, with a tremendous dry mouth.
I was also tired. Bone weary tiredness, the likes I have not encoun- tered in weeks. I can't concen- trate either. Not creative at all. I'm scrambled brained. I took a nap and woke up fucked up. I wonder what is going on. My speed is gone, but I still feel a faint sense of urgency. I need my energy back. I need my creativity back. I'm dragging ass, and I hate when that happens, because when you live a slipping downlife, this shit can become critical. Some deep ass depression is raging it's way towards me. I might choke up on the Abilify if this keeps up.
I'm still capable of blogging heavily though. Productivity may be slower but not slack. I'm cranking out shit, just not frantically. My AADD and OCD with PTSD, coupled with DID is not gone, so the mania is not either, just tempered. I think I'm not explaining it too well, but what the HELL. I'm not stable! Why should I explain shit clearly? What I do know is that I have such a back log of posts to this blog, that I have resorted to 'scheduling' them for posting. I didn't know I could do that before.
It's like an autopilot for the blog. I write a post, and schedule it. When the time comes, the blog updates itself on-time, every-time. I have them all lined up like ducks in a pond, ready to drop like flies. So, just for you out there that can't get enough, fast enough, the blog will now post every night at 12:15 AM. More insanity every day on-time, every-time. Funny too, since I've cranked up on my posts like a man on crack, my hits have blown through the roof. Every day, I'm averaging back into the twenties and thirties. I haven't had this kind of hit rate since the damn radio show.
Not that this is important to me, it's just inter- esting. I mean, I used to write this blog when there were less than five people that used to read it. Funny right? I was a mad hatter back then too. Not taking my meds, not cutting down on my drinking, not doing well at all...but I blogged like I was losing my mind. I love to blog, and I love being intimate. Telling about all of my secret shit. So much so that I no longer have any secrets from my readers. Well, maybe I do, 'cause I never said that I did not lie. So if I tell you I have no secrets, then that's a lie. But if that's a lie, because I'm a liar, then I have secrets. And if I have secrets, I just proved that I'm a liar and you don't know, or will ever know the truth. And that means I don't have any secrets if you don't know that, does it? Wrap your head around that one.
Yeah, it's confusing to me too. If I told you that I didn't know what the fuck I was talking about in that last paragraph, would you believe me? Probably, right? So, moving on. I'm down to my last episode on my screenplay, and now, it's become tremendously more difficult, because I'm trying to write satisfying endings. It's hard to write a conclusion, and when you have a half dozen separate storylines, it' HELL to finish with a season finale. I feel for writers that have to do this regularly.
Well, it's Christmas time. That must be why I'm dragging myself over coals. Everybody is making merry at this time of the year. Going shopping for loved ones, planning to visit friends and family. Buying that fat assed turkey and ham for Christmas dinner. Even the kids are starry-eyed. I used to be that way. I was going to buy a little tree for my room. I didn't know that those guys in lots and on the streets that sell Christmas trees can make a desktop Christmas tree for five bucks. I walked by and looked at a bunch of them. I mean, they couldn't pass for Bonsai trees, but they did look like Christmas.
I was going to buy one, but what could I find to adorn it with? Could I use mini- ornaments, and a mini-star. Maybe a mini-family to sit around it, and mini-gifts in front of a mini-fireplace, with mini-bills on the mini-desk in the mini-den of their mini-house that is going in mini-foreclosure, in a mini-town where the mini-jobs are drying up and mini-people are lined up in mini-unemployment lines and mini-soup kitchens. And I, well I envision myself as the mini-hobo, on the mini-street, with no pants on. Well at least my dick will be to scale with my mini-body for a change.
But all that went into my mind as I stood in front of these sidewalk guys with the rows of Christmas trees on the curb and one of the sales guys came up to me with a big, whole- some, Christmasy grin and asked, "Are you interested in our mini-trees?" And I screamed back at him, "GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME! ARRRRGH!" and ran down the street. That's my Christmas greeting. I don't think Ebeneezer Scrooge has anything on me. But don't get me wrong, I love Christmas because I understand it.
It has absolutely nothing to do with Christ Jesus. I mean, what the fuck is the tree about? Did Christ ever even SEE a fucking pine tree out in Palestine in his entire life? I don't know. Or when did he pass around gifts in wrapped boxes? During the Sermon on the Mount? And what the fuck is up with Saint Nick? Was he one of the 15 Apostles? He just didn't get the dinner engagement invitation to the Last Supper? Was Mrs Claus being a bitch that night and kept him from hanging out with the boys?
What does these things have to do with the baby in the manger? ABSO- LUTELY NOTHING. When you understand that then you understand that it all has to do with PAGAN worship. Awww, fuck it then. Who really cares? I like it, so at times I get into it. Yeah, I buy presents when I can afford it. And best of all, I buy Mistletoe and put a fishing rod on a back harness, and dangle the mistletoe over my head as I walk down the street, fishing for kisses from the young women walking by. Shit, how UN-CREATIVE can you be at Christmas time anyway when people are in the spirit of giving, especially women? Now if I invented the tradition of kissing someone underneath the mistletoe, you could bet that it wouldn't stop there. I would have it that you can also cop a feel and get a blow job under the mistletoe too! Ohhh, c'mon!!! You HAD to see that one comin' from a MILE away or you're just not familiar with this blog yet!
Christ- mas... I love it. I can't wait for snow, and snowball fights. Have you ever had 'loaded' snow ball fights at Christmas time? Its a Christian type of game that you play when you are between the ages of 13 -15 where you 'load' snowballs. You find cool things like a big rock, or a piece of shit, or a golfball, or my personal favorite, piss, and you build a snowball around it and throw it at people's faces. It's more fun when you pelt innocent passerby. Especially older people, when they get clocked by a rock or sumpin' you don't have to run as hard and long to keep them from beating your ass. Now THAT's the Christmas spirit!
Oh Christmas. I look fondly up into the air, dreaming about this time of the year. It's just wonderful. One year, I remembered, when I was busy drinking my paycheck away... this was after my wife left me one day out of the clear blue sky. I came home and she was gone. Simple math. But people kept sending me fucking Christmas presents. I would look into my wallet and if I found money, it always translated to alcohol. I mean, I stopped seeing cash, but instead their alcoholic equivalent. Five dollars, a half pint in a liquor store, or a shot at the bar; ten dollars, a pint or two drinks; twenty dollars, a quart of vodka or five drinks at the bar. So on and so forth. So when I looked into my wallet and saw two pints of vodka, a quart of scotch and three shots of tequila, you knew that I wasn't going to buy any Christmas presents.
But then the thought of what I thought Ol' Saint Nick was doing intrigued me. That fat bastard had Elves slaving all year for him, making fucking stupid wooden Christmas toys. Now I ask you, how many kids do you think get WOODEN FUCKING TOYS for Christmas? NO, they want Playstations, and Ipods, and Ipads and MP3 players and shit like that. So what the fuck is going on here? Have the elves been sent back to college to re-career? Fuck no. That old bastard knows that if they upgraded their skills they would leave the freezing North Pole for California or Florida, check out hot babes in bikinis, and get laid!
So no. Saint Nick doesn't do that. He's craftier than that. Just think, where do all those wooden toys go? Well, the answer lies in the electronic toys that kids get now. Under them there is usually a sticker that reads, Made in China, Made in Taiwan, Made in Indonesia, Malaysia, blah, blah, blah. THAT's where those wooden toys are going!! Satan Claus sends the wooden toys to these third world nations who believe that they are cool because they come from anywhere other than there (kind of like their substandard drugs from our drug companies), and besides, many of these countries don't even have power or computers to run these fucking things. Wooden toys never need batteries...right? And in return, they send Claus crates of shit made in their country...electronics!
St. Nick then gives all that shit to the kids in this country. Satan Claus was the first to discover RE-GIFTING! Yeah, think about it. Be a Christmas hero and don't pay a dime. When people from your town sends you gifts you switch the cards with the gifts from your friends from out of town and then send them back out. You don't have to buy shit! And everyone gets a slice of happy!
Then like me, you get invited to all the Christmas parties where you can hang Mistletoe from a fishing rod over your head and go up to all the women and after a kiss, cop a feel. And the hotter ones, take them out back behind the garbage cans, and piles of empty boxes with Christmas wrappings for her to get a taste of my candy cane. Ahhhh, the joys of Christmas. You gotta love it.
Well, that's my slipping downlife as a hobo. You have to enjoy whatever it is that you get in life. Sometimes you get the most incredible things in the most impossible of places. Trust me, I'm a hobo and I've seen miracles happen, especially around Christmastime.
So love your brother, but love yourself even more this season.
Peace to the world!
HobobobSource URL: http://idontwanttobeanythingotherthanme.blogspot.com/2010/12/christmastime-don-drink-milk.html
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