02/01 Direct Link
When your iPad battery dies, and you move on to your phone, and your phone dies, this is a clear sign from God to retire the day, not to transplant and plug your body to the PC where the power surge is continuous. I have been connected in some way or another, some screen or another, all day today. My eyes are swollen from bright displays, my ears are buzzing from the electricity, my brain is shutting down. I am on information overload, my processor is fried and sizzling. Too many ideas, not enough time, not enough skills. Never enough.
02/02 Direct Link
There were two observational ideas for this creative writing. I knew I should have written it down, or dictated somewhere into a device. Something. Iím having a creative surge again. Too much too fast, nothing gets documented. Little coherence but all the impetus one could ever need to apply to Silicon Valley. I was finally ready to focus on something else, someone else. Not me. But there I was, all wrapped in got-to. I might need artificial turn down. This is why we grow tumors and shit. Unnatural enabling of non-stop productivity, supply, demand, buy low, sell high, dump, dump, dump.
02/03 Direct Link
I started Corona-strong. Had a handle. I was locked in, encouraging friends, calling the elderly, cheerleading the sheeple... I burned out maybe four weeks in. I would say when the riots and bullshit started. Done. Existential crisis. I knew it was coming. Something New World Order like this. Meanwhile, I'm self-medicating with Amazon crap, contributing to the demise of the human race's dignity and worthiness. In my bubble. I've given up drinking though. Hashtag SoberOctober. Hashtag Inktober. Well, 14 days of catching up. Judging by 100words, I'll finish it in 2021. The way the UN will finish us.
02/04 Direct Link
They've done it. They've numbed me into a comfortable apathy. I cared too much about everything. I was scolded before I finished my sentences to get over it, smile, be grateful for what I have, while I saw others starve and become suicidal. I empathized until I lost myself. Where is my mind? Where is my heart? It's so dismembered, fractured, floating into space where I canít hit any walls. Just biding my time stoically. I have always known I am not of this word. I would proclaim it figuratively, poetically. Iíve been proven itís a physical and spiritual certainly.
02/05 Direct Link
I have spells where I'm sure nobody else exists. I go through periods of such sustained silence, emitting no sound. Not even music, because of migraines. Everyone is out living their lives, moving their no-swelling influence susceptible nervous systems wherever they think they're voluntarily making free will decisions. The sensory deprivation allows me to wonder about the illusion we might be living. Have I ever truly had a spiritual experience? Fuck, a physical one? Why canít I remember them? I can feel it in my bones that Iíve lived, but Iím checked out. A survival mechanism.
02/06 Direct Link
Disclaimer: I started this batch in March 2020, at the beginning of the new normal, when the think tanks were coining the term in their elite conferences. They hadn't released the phrase, just the fear mongering. The covid. The common cold, lethally jacked. Under the quarantine, there's no excuse of lack of time or opportunity. Just discipline. Personally, I just think it's another play in the life's game of chess, and we are the pawns. I have not yet feared my own mortal strife, just everyone else's. The world's fear has been heightened. We're in perfect alignment for chaos. Or control.
02/07 Direct Link
On a legal pad, I wrote names of friends who are kind and care for me and vice versa. The second column hosted people who love me, even though they are crap are showing it in a way that I feel safe, secure. I have a long list of activities I could assist with in my circle. None of this sparks joy, so I should hoist the notebook overhead in hand, thank it for it's time, and go find a Thunderdome or a Fight Club to get mine. Theyíre all hollow or too repressed to show me their soul.
02/08 Direct Link
A retrospect post. It is March 19th, 2020. Approximately, 7 days into a US National Emergency. It is surreal, but Iíve known for a while something will shut the country down, I just didn't know in what fashion. The threat to mortality is real to only some. Creatives unite! I'm hosting a tiny Wine and Paint, depending on your comfort and fear level during this whole "outbreak." So far it's a party of one. Come now, or Iíll be blasting my immune with a red blend in about three hours and my teaching skills will be unintelligible. Cheers for one!
02/09 Direct Link
If he is biologically limited in caring for you without any benefit to himself, do you stay? Knowing you will never be fulfilled, do you continue being that understanding person you committed to? If you can't stand couples who display genuine touch to their loved ones face or wish grave danger to anyone whose spouse rushes to the aid of a damsel who's fallen and slit her muscle open, do you keep investing? I am not the vixen I used to be. It's worn me down. It might be easier to being the comfortable simmering frog slowly boiling to death.
02/10 Direct Link
Day 854: We are all rationing our lembas quietly here in a dark basement corner. That's what we've coined the last stale saltine box. We wait for our most stealth and agile body to fetch back whatever canned goods he could forage. Hopefully, they'll skip this town and we could go continue tending our vegetable garden weíve tried to shroud in weeds. They might have helped themselves while we hid. If they hear us, it doesnít matter. We got nothing. We just want to live, but they have their guns and being pacifists didnít get us anywhere.
02/11 Direct Link
I don't know why it's so hard to come to the office, log in, and write words, empty words if need be, and just complete my entries. I want oh so much to give something of mine to the the universe, good or bad. Anything. Rather than laying around here with my dissociative state dominating the frequency around here. Just think of something. Anything. Name all the colors on the wall. Start calling off objects you see. Enumerate the barrage of feelings you had before you floated up above the ceiling, into the ether, into outer space, met the maker!
02/12 Direct Link
I have been at spiritual peace. Yet, the panic attacks are crash landing with no warning. I can't even start brisk-walking away. They just pour fourth and welcome to the freak show. I used to control them and save them for the car, behind a building, in a tiled bathroom corner. I think it's the symptom imperative. My body is realizing that I don't believe I'm in imminent mortal danger and it's desperately trying to make me lose my shit. humiliate me, at the least. That, or I'm just really allergic to fragrance, which I deny every other day.
02/13 Direct Link
Others are important to me. I accept the programmed belief that others are to be treated with a dignified honor higher than my own. I think that would work if we all adopted this stance. Obviously, it doesnít, but it would. To serve others is our joy, our purpose in life, what raises us up and fills us. What I donít accept is the level of self-deprecation that came with it, was expected of me. I have since shed that mentality. I value my place in the world, always have, even when I didnít understand my role here. I care for others.
02/14 Direct Link
The only thing that would break this mood today would be if my gouache tubs, pink, sky blue, and yellow green, arrived in the mailbox with it's weary traveled China shipped brown box. Not true, buying more shit would also work. This time is a time for all addicts to be tempted beyond their capacity. Iím proud to have quit two dependencies, only to adopt another. The vice will find a way. Someone else gettiní rich. I shouldnít feel so weak. They prey on my bases primal instincts. Comfort, hence love. Paint loves me. At least itís AliExpress, not Bezos.
02/15 Direct Link
When he gets home, I'm going to be positively trashed. He is going to resign into it, allowing for the discrepancy of my request, that he not drink around me. He's going to understand that I can't take it. I'm going to prance around, do my little dance, laugh, and be defensive at the first sign of disagreement. You did it to me. You broke me first. I need this. I need to escape, and in doing so I hurt nobody, except myself. Let me go into my world, my hole, my place, and deal with this in another world.
02/16 Direct Link
All I have to do, in chronological steps: tell no one, pack clean clothes (already a challenge), double check finances, book the room, have extra for tip, food, expenses, kidnap the dog, abandon cats, and drive. Just drive. See? Thatís not so hard. After two days and the moneyís out, what do you do? Itís just like when I planned to runaway as a kid. The easiest part of the plan is the getaway. Then you sit on a hotel bed, revel in the unfamiliarity, the quiet, the safety, and then the silence will consume you. Meet stranger. Abort mission.
02/17 Direct Link
Do people truly believe in this binary system? Is it possible that Google has manipulated its search system so thoroughly, that you cannot find evidence of it's sinister origin to give the illusion of control to the people? I'm not angry with them, at anyone. Sheep to the slaughter to believe that democracy works, even though it was the death of Rome. That the democracy of the natives resembled nothing of the corrupt existing checks and balances. That this system doesn't have dark forces lulling you into complacency. What is the solution? God only knows. It's not a human government.
02/18 Direct Link
I have to convince myself, my brain, I am safe. No one can do that for me. No one can tell me the worldís politics and general attitude of desperation donít affect me. I have to believe it for myself, that we are not at the bottom of the chain. If someone I love chooses to dismiss me when Iím vulnerable or yell at me my most raw insecurities, I have to believe that I am not in mortal danger. There is no threat. There is no spoon. I am not about to die. I will die, but not right now.
02/19 Direct Link
The last gouache sketch I made was a girl with a frozen blue eyed gaze, a lock mechanism clasped around her throat, and wearing a diamond studded straight jacket, massive blonde wiry explosion all a mess. The background soft pastels, her features all heavenly. He didn't understand it at all. "What am I looking at?," he says. I didn't bother explaining. "Everyone interprets things different," and left it at that. Then she saw my profile, severe angles, in my likeness but uglier, but with the brightest flower crown possible. "Self portraits are hard to do." Can they even see me?
02/20 Direct Link
While some are figuring out how to live in their cars or station their set up near a food bank, the luxury abounds in my realm. It makes me physically ill. The hardest decision this week was do we go extra, the stainless steel that is fingerprint smudge proof? The answer was, "Of course." Our home is humble in his reasoning, so some quality things are okay. I cried the first time I bought a spanking brand new car. I got violently sick when we bought the house. I get nauseous couch shopping. I'm more comfortable with hand me downs.
02/21 Direct Link
You would think it feels better admitting that, but it doesn't. The expulsion feels impulsively liberating, but then comes the ick, the processing, the revulsion and revolting of the stomach and its organs swelling up against each other, revealing me. It's not the fear of who I am and how I've survived. It's the disappointment that I haven't stood up and done what I need to get change the circumstance. It's years of scar tissue formation, freezing me inside my own body, trapping me in this life. There is overgrowth in my brain, making sure I can't make a move.
02/22 Direct Link
Today is a wash. I don't exactly knows what that means, but in context, I just know it's a wash. Started off strong and hopeful, but one encounter, and kablooey. The questionnaire in the audiobook calls it highly sensitive people, a legitimate phenomenon of the nervous system, whether developed or born that way, nature or nurture. At times, I find it shameful, when surrounded by the particular shadows I attract. At times, it is the most precious gift I impart, as I like myself, and my tenderness toward the other ones who are also treated like they don't belong here.
02/23 Direct Link
My lymphatic massage lady had Hodgkin's lymphoma, developed after serious trauma, and nurturing long time fears of acquiring cancer. It wrapped around her heart. She healed. The rigorous protocol of radiation and chemo, but her mentor, with the acupressure, releasing all energy blockages that got trapped in the first place. Then she found me. Started releasing my demons. It was instant. We went to work. I am waking up, coming alive. Suddenly, my treatments are halted. She's experiencing extreme pressure in her brain and needs testing. My cognitive distortion and self-centeredness believes maybe I passed on her my bad energy.
02/24 Direct Link
Depersonalization-derealization disorder occurs when you persistently or repeatedly have the feeling that you're observing yourself from outside your body or you have a sense that things around you aren't real, or both. I found out what itís called. Then after that incredible bout of narcissim, you experience sonder. The realization that each random passerby is living a life as vivid and complex as your own. Some days itíd just be easier being John Malkovich and the people inside him. My old school dad finally admitted believing Iím bipolar, a diagnosis professionally debunked for me. All this, drug free. Just happens.
02/25 Direct Link
Pears on the floor. Skates in the mail. Bread in the machine. Wine in the blood. Drunkard in the rehab. Phone calls in remorse. Humanity is worried about a promoted virus. The mask alone will kill me. My vision trembles and blurs, my nasal cavity locks up, I buy the business materials, the income, and storm out in a haze of tears and reality, while onlookers fear me ripping off their sacred symbol of safety, my suffocating demise. Don't call the ambulance. Dog barking into my brain, selected frequencies into my ether. I don't belong here. I wish to leave.
02/26 Direct Link
We aren't a family of inheritances or heirlooms. Our kind barely knows their history, which is why the father is obsessed with visiting his country annually and investigating as many kin as possible. We will not pass down grandchildren either. The first to receive money, not knowledge, might be us, when he passes. I reluctantly shelled out some bucks on a humble stone, not terribly valuable in price, but in significance. The first two were on sale. Then I realized we could all, the women, have one, I hunted down the last two on ebay. We will share this beauty.
02/27 Direct Link
I want to be kind to myself the way Iím allowing of others. People in pain lash out, and they just need one person to truly hear them and see them, and be there once in a while. Well, I mean, itís a lot more nuanced than that, but in essence, they have to be allowed to expel, dispel that bad energy, and transform it. A friend told me the highest energy of all, the most powerful, is love. How can we love others when we are depleted? Simple. We are love. Thereís an endless abundance of it. Tap in.
02/28 Direct Link
The tools for self-healing have always been there. Itís always been available in some shape-shifting form. Iíve had help and support. I havenít learned how to believe itís enough. Iíd like to blame the poorly damaged frontal lobe that makes me impulsively shop, hard, yell, scream, cry, rage. Iím doing it and I can hear a tiny far away voice yelling, ďYou have the power to stop this. You donít want to do this.Ē Oh, but I do. I want the instance discharge of relief. Isnít that self love? Ending my misery. No, thatís self-sabotaging, harmful in the long run.