So I was doing a little eavesdropping when I discovered something about pills. There are some that cause low sex drive. It also made me realize something else. Doctors don't care. They're interested in treating whatever is harming or hurting you, but they never give you the full story. I mean they'll say something like "it has a few side-effects," and you'll see the list of side-effects on that little paper you get from the pharmacy, but they don't stress the side-effects part. It's up to you to stress it.
Pills, pills, pills. Doctors and the pharamaceutical companies are working together. The doctors are helping to sell their products! If you have a cold, let me recommend Bartie's Cold! No, don't take Tylenol because Bartie is an up-and-comer and I want to help him out. You want to know the real treatment? Rest and fluids. Should I blame the doctors? I mean should I really blame them when our society is so damned lazy and looking for a quick fix? A society that is too lazy to cook dinner and just get their dinner from a fast food joint. Get the nice Family Meal from KFC because it's made for families. No cooking involved, no washing dishes because you're not using any. I mean what has our society come to! I mean yes, I eat KFC myself. But everyday? Who has KFC everyday? For lunch and for dinner! They don't serve breakfast, but if they did, you know where you'd be going. You don't take care of your body, so it's no wonder you're getting sick! Meanwhile these loonie doctors are picking up on that and trying to make a fortune out of it! They're selling you want you want. Pills. A quick-fix. Just give me something to get me through this day. What you need is to eat healthy, eat more fruits, shit like that.
The worst is when you see some five year old with a hamburger in one hand, a fry in their mouth, and with their other hand playing with the toy they got from McDonald's! They don't even want the meal. They want the toy and McDonald's knows that! Here, here's a toy made from people in another country who get crappy wages and not-so-good working conditions! Meanwhile, inject your body with grease! Lots of grease, lots of sugar!
I still have my beef with doctors. They don't tell you this stuff. I mean there's the usual exercise and stop smoking and stop drinking, but they don't say "cut down on the fast food and eat a fruit!" They're not interested in lifestyle changes because that would cut down on the kickbacks they get from selling pills! Pills is where the money is at! We want them, and they want to give them to us. Our society has bought into this whole magic pill crap. And Prozac isn't to blame. We are. We wanted it. Prozac is also not a magic pill! But when we get it, we feel better (or think we do) and think that's all we need. Who cares about group therapy or trying to solve problems? I like my Prozac, and I think I'll up the dosage because half a pill just isn't working for me!
I know I'm going to sound like a scientologist, but it's all in the mind! It's a really sad world we live in.
Saturday, April 24, 2010
Sunday, April 11, 2010
A Year Later
My dad reminded me around April 1st or so that it was one year since my uncle passed away. And then I remembered I started this blog a year ago. So I thought I need to write an entry since it's a year later, but technically it's not a year later yet for this journal. April 17th will be the anniversary of this blog and I have to say things are fuckin' awesome. It's unbelievable but I made it. I had one hell of a year and I can't say too much specifically what happened, but those who know me personally will know. Like MJ knows. She's been so supportive of my bad year. It's strange. Well, it's not really strange because I know when someone you care about dies, it does affect you. But when it really happens, you don't realize it. The world looks so morbid, and I guess it becomes morbid or sad or listless or mean, and cruel like one of Mr. Burns's hounds from The Simpsons cartoon. Maybe you hear something in my voice now that tells you things are better because I do feel a lot better.
They had a special poetry reading this past Saturday and I went to it, despite my boss being away for vacation. Funny thing is around the same time last year he had a vacation. So I guess we've come full circle. I'm really happy. But it just didn't happen. It was a journey, a hard journey. I could not have done it without my friends though and God of course. I hadn't been to a poetry reading since that one time where I read that one poem and the whole night just didn't feel exciting. Being at that special poetry reading was different. It was a party, a celebration, a re-birth maybe. A lot of my outlook though has been more positive, it was like I knew I had to go in that direction. It made me realize that I had to make the choice to be happy. I mean there are things to feel miserable about, and things to feel happy about. They're both there, you just have to take your pick. Sometimes it's hard to feel happy, it really is, and that's when you write, or you hold on to your friends. And I mean your friends. Not those idiots who don't want to listen to you whine anymore or have better things to do, or wonder why you don't get over your grief already. Who the fuck cares whether it's been one day, one week, or one year? Everyone has their grieving process. I mean, okay if you're stuck in your room, with the walls painted black for a whole year, then yes, something's obviously wrong, but if you're still doing shit but you're still sad then that's alright because you're still trying to get through the world, and some people just don't understand that. It's like they don't want to be reminded that the other person's dead. But sometimes, people need someone to talk to about their grief. They don't want you to fix their grief, just they just want to talk. It's how they express themselves. Sometimes it's hard to write. I have those times that it's hard to write. So I can understand that. Sometimes the griever just wants to talk or have a drink with you. I mean nothing big, just listen or just keep the griever company. Okay too creepy, MJ just showed up. Maybe she needs to talk? Time for me to blow this post and see how she is. Later.
They had a special poetry reading this past Saturday and I went to it, despite my boss being away for vacation. Funny thing is around the same time last year he had a vacation. So I guess we've come full circle. I'm really happy. But it just didn't happen. It was a journey, a hard journey. I could not have done it without my friends though and God of course. I hadn't been to a poetry reading since that one time where I read that one poem and the whole night just didn't feel exciting. Being at that special poetry reading was different. It was a party, a celebration, a re-birth maybe. A lot of my outlook though has been more positive, it was like I knew I had to go in that direction. It made me realize that I had to make the choice to be happy. I mean there are things to feel miserable about, and things to feel happy about. They're both there, you just have to take your pick. Sometimes it's hard to feel happy, it really is, and that's when you write, or you hold on to your friends. And I mean your friends. Not those idiots who don't want to listen to you whine anymore or have better things to do, or wonder why you don't get over your grief already. Who the fuck cares whether it's been one day, one week, or one year? Everyone has their grieving process. I mean, okay if you're stuck in your room, with the walls painted black for a whole year, then yes, something's obviously wrong, but if you're still doing shit but you're still sad then that's alright because you're still trying to get through the world, and some people just don't understand that. It's like they don't want to be reminded that the other person's dead. But sometimes, people need someone to talk to about their grief. They don't want you to fix their grief, just they just want to talk. It's how they express themselves. Sometimes it's hard to write. I have those times that it's hard to write. So I can understand that. Sometimes the griever just wants to talk or have a drink with you. I mean nothing big, just listen or just keep the griever company. Okay too creepy, MJ just showed up. Maybe she needs to talk? Time for me to blow this post and see how she is. Later.
Sunday, March 7, 2010
Words
They're coming to get me, they're coming to get me. They wear blue, they were black, and have golden badges on their chests and lapels like massive body strength wanting to consume me. But they won't get me, they won't get me, because I write this, because I write. They can't stop the writer from writing. They may have muscles, but I have a brain and that outdoes any muscles or politics that they may have. I'm a rat in a maze, I'm a rat within walls eating cheese, chewing my way out and I'm inside them chewing their skin and drinking their blood in a wine glass because I feast on their authority because I don't respect it. Useless cops with nothing to do and I don't mind because I don't see them and they don't see me and yet I had to call them when I was in trouble. I did my job, they did theirs and we parted ways and it's too bad, it's too sad we couldn't be friends anymore, but they stabbed me in the back, fucked me up in the ass and it hurt pretty darned good, so there is nothing I can do except hold you, hold my writing, hold what keeps me alive, because without it, I would have no support, no rock, except for Jesus, but it's hard to hold on when you're falling down a well, and you need something to help you scrape along the sides. Something to help you open your eyes so you can see Jesus, and once you get that first step, then, and it's only then that Jesus becomes alive in your eyes. He's there, just standing there, not moving because he wants you to come to him. He's too lazy to come down and save you, you have to save yourself and only then do you get the goods that heaven has to offer, and you think it's all bs, but once you get out of it and see all this shit, you're thinking it's pretty good and then once you're in, you're in for life, and it's a good gig, the people are good, and you don't mind their company. Sure there a few bad apples, but you ignore those because their ticket is almost up anyway, and you don't worry about them because you're hanging with the Big J eating and drinking his good wine without the hangover the next day, and that's heaven when you can get drunk and not have a hangover the next day.
So they can't get me, they can't get me, I'm too smart for these rich pricks, obsequious dicks with guns on their sides and badges close to their heart. They respect the badge, but they respect the green as well. It's money that talks, money that makes decisions, money that tells you who's right and wrong. Money writes the rules, the government doesn't, only think they do. They only do because they're rich and he who has all the gold makes the rules and that's all bs, so all you can do is smoke a joint and write whatever you do and keep moving in the world because when you stop, that's when you die, that's when you've given up. And as long as you're moving, then that's something, because most of these political bastards have stopped moving and smoke up their money, and once it's gone, they have nothing because young up-and-comers are coming up with more money taking them over. There's always a bigger fish. And meanwhile you're just floating on the street, high as a kite, still surviving, still living and that should be worth something. It's something when you can write.
So they can't get me, they can't get me, I'm too smart for these rich pricks, obsequious dicks with guns on their sides and badges close to their heart. They respect the badge, but they respect the green as well. It's money that talks, money that makes decisions, money that tells you who's right and wrong. Money writes the rules, the government doesn't, only think they do. They only do because they're rich and he who has all the gold makes the rules and that's all bs, so all you can do is smoke a joint and write whatever you do and keep moving in the world because when you stop, that's when you die, that's when you've given up. And as long as you're moving, then that's something, because most of these political bastards have stopped moving and smoke up their money, and once it's gone, they have nothing because young up-and-comers are coming up with more money taking them over. There's always a bigger fish. And meanwhile you're just floating on the street, high as a kite, still surviving, still living and that should be worth something. It's something when you can write.
Monday, March 1, 2010
Fear
Why do you fear? Why do you let them control you? Because they do. They're bigger, they wear uniforms, they are the law. They're not the law, the law is in your mind, that is the law. The law is what you control, what you know. That is the law. I don't understand. If that's the law, then I can do anything I want. Precisely. You control what you do, they don't. You make the choices, they don't. You can choose to stand up or sit down. Then I choose to sit down, what's the point of getting up when they're there? They're not there, you only think they are. You decide if they're there or not. It's your mind that decides. So they're not there. They're not there and it's only you with a blank slate, with a blank piece of paper to tell the story of your life. What's that life going to be? What are you going to tell the world? When you're dead and gone, what's the legacy you're going to leave behind? What legacy? I have no legacy. But you do. Everyone has a legacy. You are your own legacy. What's the legacy you can leave behind? What words can you leave the world? What will they know you as? Who will you be when you are gone? That's your legacy. And people in uniform won't stop you from that legacy. Nobody can stop you from that legacy because they don't exist for you. And when they don't exist, they can't touch you.
Thursday, February 25, 2010
Dead
Oddly the last time I posted was in October 1st and since October 8th life for me has been hell. The police or security or whatever you want to call them, rent-a-cops, I really don't care, but they're idiots anyway. They finally screwed me over for the last time, but that's not what bothers me. What bothers me is they're still alive? And what bothers me is that all their body parts are still together. I'd like to cram a screwdriver or a drill in their ear or something and make them bleed the way they made me bleed by stabbing me in the back, and I still bleed from their betrayal. Why should I have to leave my job? My job is going well. It's just seeing them around, seeing them everyday doing their stupid patrols which is not really anything but trying to look pretty. They got swanky new uniforms now, but that still doesn't hide what they really are. Just a bunch of politicians really, that enjoy kickbacks from the rich and enjoy harassing the lowly.
I talked to Jack Kerouac the other day. He's my mentor. I asked why I should bother going to work, why I should bother getting up. I mean who really cares anymore. Why wouldn't I just put a bullet in my head? I mean what's the point of life anymore, when you just don't feel like going to the mall maybe? I could say going to work, but I do like work, it's just they're around and that's what makes work suck for me, otherwise I'd like work. So I asked Jack K., I ask him why I should bother getting up. Why? And he says to me "The writing man, the writing," so that's why I'm up today. That's why I'm writing in here again. This is what makes me live. I mean yeah, my friends and MJ, they all help me, but they can't be here for me everyday, 24/7. I mean they got their own lives, and MJ's not in the same city. I mean I wish she was, but she isn't so not like I can cry on her shoulder or maybe I still can but it still hurts because what can she do. There's only so much she can do to make me feel better and she's tried, but then it all boils down to me. I mean I have a great life other than work.
Why should I quit work? I mean yeah, I thought about it. Sure, MJ just suggested it like 10 minutes ago, but I thought about it before. I thought maybe I should go find another job, work in the post office like Bukowski did, even though he's tried to warn me about working there. I mean it sounds like a good gig. Someone else said I should work there too. Seems like a good gig.
Something to think about I guess. I feel better writing all this. One reason I can get up in the morning, to write. That's my only reason or main reason for living I guess. It's like the blood that flows through my veins. Without it, I'd be dead and I think that's true.
Those cops though, they screwed me over bad. They're not the friendly people you learn about when you're in Elementary School. No these guys are different. In it for themselves. They don't know what justice is. They're too scared, too small. Yes, I know the law's the law and I have every right to press charges, but they won't let me press charges.
Not all the security are bad. No, not all of them. Just the head guy, like the head vampire in The Lost Boys. Keifer Sutherland wasn't that bad. It was the head vampire that was. Him and his little minion. The little minion caused the most betrayal because him and I were close, but now we're not, and he's a Jesus lover and that prevents me from slicing his throat because you don't slice a man of Jesus even if he did betray you. Doesn't mean I have to like him though. I stay away from him, he stays away from me. Don't give me this crap about forgiveness. You just want me to forget you stabbed me in the back. No, I won't forgive you, I just won't know you. You want professionalism, dick, I'll give it to you. Professionalism is knowing your there, but not acknowledge your presence. So I won't acknowledge your presence, because really, why should I? When you caused me this grief.
Other than those idiots, that's why I'm alive, that's why I wake up today and go where I'm going. It's the writing man, the writing.
I talked to Jack Kerouac the other day. He's my mentor. I asked why I should bother going to work, why I should bother getting up. I mean who really cares anymore. Why wouldn't I just put a bullet in my head? I mean what's the point of life anymore, when you just don't feel like going to the mall maybe? I could say going to work, but I do like work, it's just they're around and that's what makes work suck for me, otherwise I'd like work. So I asked Jack K., I ask him why I should bother getting up. Why? And he says to me "The writing man, the writing," so that's why I'm up today. That's why I'm writing in here again. This is what makes me live. I mean yeah, my friends and MJ, they all help me, but they can't be here for me everyday, 24/7. I mean they got their own lives, and MJ's not in the same city. I mean I wish she was, but she isn't so not like I can cry on her shoulder or maybe I still can but it still hurts because what can she do. There's only so much she can do to make me feel better and she's tried, but then it all boils down to me. I mean I have a great life other than work.
Why should I quit work? I mean yeah, I thought about it. Sure, MJ just suggested it like 10 minutes ago, but I thought about it before. I thought maybe I should go find another job, work in the post office like Bukowski did, even though he's tried to warn me about working there. I mean it sounds like a good gig. Someone else said I should work there too. Seems like a good gig.
Something to think about I guess. I feel better writing all this. One reason I can get up in the morning, to write. That's my only reason or main reason for living I guess. It's like the blood that flows through my veins. Without it, I'd be dead and I think that's true.
Those cops though, they screwed me over bad. They're not the friendly people you learn about when you're in Elementary School. No these guys are different. In it for themselves. They don't know what justice is. They're too scared, too small. Yes, I know the law's the law and I have every right to press charges, but they won't let me press charges.
Not all the security are bad. No, not all of them. Just the head guy, like the head vampire in The Lost Boys. Keifer Sutherland wasn't that bad. It was the head vampire that was. Him and his little minion. The little minion caused the most betrayal because him and I were close, but now we're not, and he's a Jesus lover and that prevents me from slicing his throat because you don't slice a man of Jesus even if he did betray you. Doesn't mean I have to like him though. I stay away from him, he stays away from me. Don't give me this crap about forgiveness. You just want me to forget you stabbed me in the back. No, I won't forgive you, I just won't know you. You want professionalism, dick, I'll give it to you. Professionalism is knowing your there, but not acknowledge your presence. So I won't acknowledge your presence, because really, why should I? When you caused me this grief.
Other than those idiots, that's why I'm alive, that's why I wake up today and go where I'm going. It's the writing man, the writing.
Thursday, October 1, 2009
Forgiveness?
Corrie connected to me via Facebook. You know, Facebook, how they have those statuses people put up. Well, Corrie had added a comment to one of her photos and she replied. It made me feel good that she actually talked to me and I guess she isn't ignoring me. She's just been very busy. I guess I have to. I wish we could reconnect or hook up again. She is like my sponsor, but the sad thing is, she's rarely there when I need her and sometimes I think she needs me more than I need her. She's been doing better with her life I think. God is taking her somewhere, so she says. I'm not sure where, so I guess we'll have to wait and see.
It makes me think about God. I think my faith is stronger now. It was days ago. Things at MJ's home are fine. She won't be out on the streets. Don't know all the details, but it doesn't matter because things are fine with her now and I can rest more easy. My neck aches and it's a bit stiff. It's getting better though. I think it's from all the stress from the past couple of weeks. With work and with MJ. It's just been deeply stressful and now that my work has settled down I think this is my body's way of telling me to take it easy. Now I have to take it easy.
So I've been thinking more about God, more actually about Satan, or the devil, if you like. You know how God's always helping you out, doing shit in your world so your life can get better. I wonder if there's another force, another negative force, called Satan trying to make your life miserable. Just when your life's getting good, Satan comes along and does shit. I try not to think about that too much because then life can get pretty dark. It's better to just think about God. Plus my life is pretty dark enough already as it is. You've read the blog, so you'd know.
I've also been thinking about forgiveness. There was something on a church program I saw on Sunday because I happen to be off that day this past Sunday. Well, this program I saw said we have to forgive everyone, that's how we move on. That's how we travel from the past to the future. It made a lot of sense, but there are just some people I can't forgive. There's someone I consider Satan's helper. She came into my life and destroyed it. I wonder though if she had her own illness to deal with or if she's just some crazed motherfucker. Should I forgive her and just move on? I don't know. I mean by being angry with her and trying to avoid her, that all arises from fear and I know fear is a bad thing. I can't just move on, can't forget about her. She ruined my life. I don't want to ruin her life. That's just crazy. I don't know what I want to do. I want to know she'll stop hurting me. That's what I want. But I have no way of knowing that. They say if you have God on your side, you don't have to worry. So what? I forgive her and move on? After all she's done to me. She's one of the most evil people that I've met on this planet, except for someone else.
I remember the good times we had. They were far and few. I remember how helpless I felt when I was with her. How lost I felt. Now, I don't feel so lost. A part of me prays she's doing better, but a part of me hopes she's dead. It's frustrating. That people who hurt me are still alive. But wishing them dead isn't good. There's just something bad about wishing them dead. Not so much that it's bad, but the fact that it still gives you pain. That's the bad part. And I don't want that pain. I want to move on, but I don't want her hurting me anymore. Is that bad? Is it bad for me to not want her hurting me anymore? She still hurts me. Still in the shadows. Whenever I take a drink, I see her. She's there. She wants to get inside and we want to destroy each other. She's like a big cock penetrating my vagina, just thrusting hard and it hurts bad, hurts real good, maybe I want it to hurt, maybe then I can feel something, maybe I feel I deserve it? It makes sense after all the crap that happened to me when I was a kid. But then I don't deserve it. I deserve God's love because God is out there with open arms. God is my new Father, my only one. But then there's that saying about forgiving your brother. If you don't forgive your brother how do you expect God to forgive you? I just do. I'm good, my brother's bad. But then I have to forgive my brother. But he hurt me. I want him to stop hurting me. I can't be sure he'll stop hurting me. One time I told him not to hurt me anymore and he said okay, he won't, but he did, and it hurt real bad. Maybe it's like being a Jew in a concentration camp with some German officer telling you one thing, but really he's going to take you for one of those gas showers and you're loathe to trust Germans again. That's how I feel. I can't trust that guy not to hurt me again. And then I feel the only way he won't hurt me is if he's dead, but I can't kill him. I can't kill these people and God won't kill them for me. It's annoying that he won't do that. So what am I supposed to do? It's better to just live your life and not worry about all that. But I have all this pain and it hurts and I don't know what to do. Don't want to end my life because my life's pretty good.
I don't think God's a hoax now though. I think he's real, tangible, something I can feel. God's alive and he's trying to help me, but I'm scared God, scared that if I let go, I'll get hurt again. I trust you, but I don't know, I'm scared to let go. Scared to open my heart to them, Lord, because if I do they're going to hurt me again, and it's just better not to open my heart to them, to be guarded because they hurt me. Will you help me find the way, Lord? Do I even want to find the way? I don't know.
I don't know.
It makes me think about God. I think my faith is stronger now. It was days ago. Things at MJ's home are fine. She won't be out on the streets. Don't know all the details, but it doesn't matter because things are fine with her now and I can rest more easy. My neck aches and it's a bit stiff. It's getting better though. I think it's from all the stress from the past couple of weeks. With work and with MJ. It's just been deeply stressful and now that my work has settled down I think this is my body's way of telling me to take it easy. Now I have to take it easy.
So I've been thinking more about God, more actually about Satan, or the devil, if you like. You know how God's always helping you out, doing shit in your world so your life can get better. I wonder if there's another force, another negative force, called Satan trying to make your life miserable. Just when your life's getting good, Satan comes along and does shit. I try not to think about that too much because then life can get pretty dark. It's better to just think about God. Plus my life is pretty dark enough already as it is. You've read the blog, so you'd know.
I've also been thinking about forgiveness. There was something on a church program I saw on Sunday because I happen to be off that day this past Sunday. Well, this program I saw said we have to forgive everyone, that's how we move on. That's how we travel from the past to the future. It made a lot of sense, but there are just some people I can't forgive. There's someone I consider Satan's helper. She came into my life and destroyed it. I wonder though if she had her own illness to deal with or if she's just some crazed motherfucker. Should I forgive her and just move on? I don't know. I mean by being angry with her and trying to avoid her, that all arises from fear and I know fear is a bad thing. I can't just move on, can't forget about her. She ruined my life. I don't want to ruin her life. That's just crazy. I don't know what I want to do. I want to know she'll stop hurting me. That's what I want. But I have no way of knowing that. They say if you have God on your side, you don't have to worry. So what? I forgive her and move on? After all she's done to me. She's one of the most evil people that I've met on this planet, except for someone else.
I remember the good times we had. They were far and few. I remember how helpless I felt when I was with her. How lost I felt. Now, I don't feel so lost. A part of me prays she's doing better, but a part of me hopes she's dead. It's frustrating. That people who hurt me are still alive. But wishing them dead isn't good. There's just something bad about wishing them dead. Not so much that it's bad, but the fact that it still gives you pain. That's the bad part. And I don't want that pain. I want to move on, but I don't want her hurting me anymore. Is that bad? Is it bad for me to not want her hurting me anymore? She still hurts me. Still in the shadows. Whenever I take a drink, I see her. She's there. She wants to get inside and we want to destroy each other. She's like a big cock penetrating my vagina, just thrusting hard and it hurts bad, hurts real good, maybe I want it to hurt, maybe then I can feel something, maybe I feel I deserve it? It makes sense after all the crap that happened to me when I was a kid. But then I don't deserve it. I deserve God's love because God is out there with open arms. God is my new Father, my only one. But then there's that saying about forgiving your brother. If you don't forgive your brother how do you expect God to forgive you? I just do. I'm good, my brother's bad. But then I have to forgive my brother. But he hurt me. I want him to stop hurting me. I can't be sure he'll stop hurting me. One time I told him not to hurt me anymore and he said okay, he won't, but he did, and it hurt real bad. Maybe it's like being a Jew in a concentration camp with some German officer telling you one thing, but really he's going to take you for one of those gas showers and you're loathe to trust Germans again. That's how I feel. I can't trust that guy not to hurt me again. And then I feel the only way he won't hurt me is if he's dead, but I can't kill him. I can't kill these people and God won't kill them for me. It's annoying that he won't do that. So what am I supposed to do? It's better to just live your life and not worry about all that. But I have all this pain and it hurts and I don't know what to do. Don't want to end my life because my life's pretty good.
I don't think God's a hoax now though. I think he's real, tangible, something I can feel. God's alive and he's trying to help me, but I'm scared God, scared that if I let go, I'll get hurt again. I trust you, but I don't know, I'm scared to let go. Scared to open my heart to them, Lord, because if I do they're going to hurt me again, and it's just better not to open my heart to them, to be guarded because they hurt me. Will you help me find the way, Lord? Do I even want to find the way? I don't know.
I don't know.
Friday, September 25, 2009
I'm Coming Back
I haven't written here in a while. I don't know if it was hard to write, or just hard to sit here and stare at the computer and share my feelings when I'm a wreck, even though sometimes you just have to. That's when the writing's good and it's too bad that you have to be almost dead to be a good writer. Of course, that's not true, that's a myth. I mean there are many good writers out there who've killed themselves or had sad lives. You can be a good writer and have a good life.
Lots of things happened. MJ's mother died. Her mother was a friend of mine in a way, like how you go over to your friend's house and his mother's there making you guys lemonade. She knows me, I know her, and I hate losing her. Hate losing a good woman. Yeah, she was sickly, and I knew she was heading downhill, but I didn't think it would be this soon. Thought she'd be able to fight the good life, but now the good lord has taken her.
Frustrates me because I'm wondering why the good lord didn't take the other sister, but then that's mean I suppose. I'll say nothing about that. I will say that MJ's been having a rough time, but this entry isn't about her since this is my blog. I just wish I could do something for MJ. If she were here I'd have her crash in my pad until she gets a place of her own, but she's in another city, so there's just no way. And I gotta live the days wondering if she'll be stuck out on the streets pimping herself, spreading her legs for any Tom Dick Harry or Marianne because sometimes that's the way you gotta live. I don't want MJ to live like that because she's pure, a good soul, someone who doesn't deserve to be kicked in the mid-section like that. She deserves better, but of course, God being the old joker he is doesn't really give a fuck and would probably let her get kicked until she's bleeding. I just don't get that Book of Job and yet it's my favorite book of the bible. The guy's just take all this shit from God but yet he still likes God, until he finally gets the last straw. I mean some of the stuff is alright, but it just goes on and on, with more suffering and you're thinking wtf is God doing! He's just chilling with Satan and having some fun. I mean is that what God does? Has fun with people? I wonder about that.
God puts all this crap on me when I have to work my job doing the day shift crap. 3 days shifts. Fuckin' day shifts, I hate 'em. This week's a stressful week and I have no breathing room, I have no life. Boss is out of town, so now we get to do all the managerial bs. I don't like doing managerial bs. I'd rather write. So now I have no life. It reminds me of this zen story. This guy is saying how he really wants to find God and the zen master smiles and says "Really?" Then the zen master grabs the guy and throws him underwater and holds him down. The guy's waving his hands frantically and after a few minutes, then zen master lifts the guy up. The guy's gasping, coughing, spitting up water. Finally when he's done and he's caught his breath, the zen master asks "When you were down there, what is it you wanted most?" The guy says "Air!" The zen master lets the guy go and says "Come back, when you want to find God as much as you wanted air." It's like that. Like I have no air. Now I realize how much I want to write. I'm almost hungry for it. I say almost because I want to read too. So much I want to do. I want to talk to MJ, to see if she's alright. Want to talk to the Donut, hang out, stuff like that. MJ, Donut, and I have a good talk. We hang out and just shoot the breeze, that's the kind of talk we like. Just easy living. We also get to bitch about our day, how it hampers our life, and wouldn't it be better not to have that day. Not so much the day, but what we do in it, the work that we do. We don't like it. Least I can speak for Donut and I. We'd rather be home doing other stuff. Being wage-slaves isn't really all that fun. I'd rather just write. Make my living doing that. Don't have to worry about scheduling my holidays. Don't even have to worry about booking a day off in advance. Don't have to worry about office politics.
Got some writing gigs coming up. Going to have fun writing a novel with some pals in November. The classic Nanowrimo. Means I'll be off this thing for a while. That's okay though. I haven't written here since July anyway, and nobody really reads this. Kind of glad in a way. Either way, it doesn't matter because it's more a personal project of mine anyway.
Guess that's it for now. Boss comes back Tuesday and I can get my life back then. Fuckers.
Makes me think of why I work at this stupid place. Don't want to manage the place. Just want to be a writer.
I was watching some God show just now and it made me think that God was here watching out for me and that he's watching out for MJ and everything's going to be okay, but sometimes I don't know. Sometimes I don't know what God is doing. Oddly my faith is still there. Although weak, if you want to call it that, I'd say it's still there. I wouldn't call my faith weak, I'd call it little. Sometimes it's bigger, sometimes it isn't. I mean it used to be bigger, back when Corrie was in my life and she actually cared. I mean she cares now, but she's busy, I understand that. Too busy for me? Feels like it sometimes. Everything is about me, I guess. She's supposed to be my sponsor though, least that's what I feel. I'm supposed to call her if I need to talk, but she feels so far away. Can't just pick up the phone and tell her I'm falling to pieces and I need a hug, or for her to hold me and pray for me. I like the way she hugs me, close to her, as if she doesn't hold me tight enough, I'll fall away, down into the depths of Hell. She's a good hugger like that. A small person, but powerful. Maybe one day I can return the favor for all she's done for me, but I don't know if I can. I think she's messed up her life. Or did. With that one guy. Left him, went with another guy. This guy seems pretty good.
In a way, I'm part of that family. Saw her druggie sister. She works near where I work. Great, good to see you, just don't try hitting me up for cigarettes you underage bitch! Yeah, she was nice to talk to before she tried to use my friendship with Corrie to get drugs. I don't need to buy that shit again. I'm trying to live a good clean life, and I don't need that stuff messing up my life. Even though I wouldn't be using, buying them would just be going down that road again, but the druggies don't understand, they'll just use anyone or anything to get what they want or think they need. It's like the opposite end of the spectrum. Corrie's this angel, and this other girl isn't, but then Corrie isn't the angel that she appears to be. I mean I think she's an angel, but she's got darkness inside of her which she tries to hide. Doesn't want to accept. There's that saying "shake hands with your devil." It's in a Robertson Davies novel...Fifth Business, I think it's called. She won't do that. Not for a while. Hey, she has God now, don't need to worry! Yet, she'll fuck up, but hey, she has God to solve all her problems so she can keep fucking up all she wants and be okay, I mean what is that shit anyway? I mean not so much Corrie, but a lot of Christians. You think to yourself "They're supposed to be Christian and they're doing this??" They act like shit, and blame it on "Everyone's a sinner." Fuck that shit. If you're going to fix your life, then fix your life and stop shitting on other people. It's so damned annoying when you live in your glass house behind that fancy name of Christian which gives you the right to destroy the world but still be forgiven. I mean not every Christian is like this. There are some really good people who mess up from time to time, but are trying to change, and are honest about this. They don't sit on their high horse telling you what a shit you are and how if you seek Jesus you'll be cool like them. These guys admit they're a mess, and say they're trying, and have hope that they'll succeed by having faith in Jesus. That's what Christianity is. It's not telling others you suck, and you'll only be cool if you're with the J-Man. It's about stability, focus, a center, inner peace, that kind of thing. When you have Jesus on your back, nothing else matters. He's got your back. No worries.
Some guy told me that the devil created Buddhism. I wonder if that guy was brain-washed. Some of these guys see there alone eating a sandwich, and hey, it's swell that they don't want to grab your cock or any weird shit like that. Instead they see you're alone, which means you probably have no friends, and that's the time they want to tell you about this great guy. They always start off that way. They start off slow, deceptive, almost like a salesperson, and say "Let me tell you about this cool guy." The cool guy is Jesus. Once they say that name. Omg! It's "Fuck the Jesus freaks man!" Then they wonder what you believe in. They counter with the stuff from the bible. Turns out if you read the bible every day you'll be okay. Um, yeah.
How many people have actually read the whole bible? I've read it twice. It's one long book.
This God show had it right. It's not about religion. It's a relationship. That I can believe. It's not about reading the bible. It's about connecting with Jesus and talking to him. And yeah, digging in the bible to find the answers. That's what it's about. Who cares what city the Wise Men stopped at to pee? Like I don't give a fuck. What I care about is when they nailed Jesus to the cross, and come on, that's pretty gory stuff (wish I could've written that), and then he comes back from the dead! But not just him coming back from the dead. It's what he teaches. He's like "you don't do this, do this!" Sadly not every Christian does those lessons, especially the ones who preach this shit. It's one thing to preach it, another to actually do what you preach. Practice what you preach. And a lot of those idiots don't.
I'll tell you what though. I believe in God because I know he's real. Not because some book told me because what I felt. Don't know who he is, but the bible seems to show me some answers. I like the bible, not some preacher's interpretation of it.
I said enough. I'm glad I said it. It needed to be said. Happy writing.
Lots of things happened. MJ's mother died. Her mother was a friend of mine in a way, like how you go over to your friend's house and his mother's there making you guys lemonade. She knows me, I know her, and I hate losing her. Hate losing a good woman. Yeah, she was sickly, and I knew she was heading downhill, but I didn't think it would be this soon. Thought she'd be able to fight the good life, but now the good lord has taken her.
Frustrates me because I'm wondering why the good lord didn't take the other sister, but then that's mean I suppose. I'll say nothing about that. I will say that MJ's been having a rough time, but this entry isn't about her since this is my blog. I just wish I could do something for MJ. If she were here I'd have her crash in my pad until she gets a place of her own, but she's in another city, so there's just no way. And I gotta live the days wondering if she'll be stuck out on the streets pimping herself, spreading her legs for any Tom Dick Harry or Marianne because sometimes that's the way you gotta live. I don't want MJ to live like that because she's pure, a good soul, someone who doesn't deserve to be kicked in the mid-section like that. She deserves better, but of course, God being the old joker he is doesn't really give a fuck and would probably let her get kicked until she's bleeding. I just don't get that Book of Job and yet it's my favorite book of the bible. The guy's just take all this shit from God but yet he still likes God, until he finally gets the last straw. I mean some of the stuff is alright, but it just goes on and on, with more suffering and you're thinking wtf is God doing! He's just chilling with Satan and having some fun. I mean is that what God does? Has fun with people? I wonder about that.
God puts all this crap on me when I have to work my job doing the day shift crap. 3 days shifts. Fuckin' day shifts, I hate 'em. This week's a stressful week and I have no breathing room, I have no life. Boss is out of town, so now we get to do all the managerial bs. I don't like doing managerial bs. I'd rather write. So now I have no life. It reminds me of this zen story. This guy is saying how he really wants to find God and the zen master smiles and says "Really?" Then the zen master grabs the guy and throws him underwater and holds him down. The guy's waving his hands frantically and after a few minutes, then zen master lifts the guy up. The guy's gasping, coughing, spitting up water. Finally when he's done and he's caught his breath, the zen master asks "When you were down there, what is it you wanted most?" The guy says "Air!" The zen master lets the guy go and says "Come back, when you want to find God as much as you wanted air." It's like that. Like I have no air. Now I realize how much I want to write. I'm almost hungry for it. I say almost because I want to read too. So much I want to do. I want to talk to MJ, to see if she's alright. Want to talk to the Donut, hang out, stuff like that. MJ, Donut, and I have a good talk. We hang out and just shoot the breeze, that's the kind of talk we like. Just easy living. We also get to bitch about our day, how it hampers our life, and wouldn't it be better not to have that day. Not so much the day, but what we do in it, the work that we do. We don't like it. Least I can speak for Donut and I. We'd rather be home doing other stuff. Being wage-slaves isn't really all that fun. I'd rather just write. Make my living doing that. Don't have to worry about scheduling my holidays. Don't even have to worry about booking a day off in advance. Don't have to worry about office politics.
Got some writing gigs coming up. Going to have fun writing a novel with some pals in November. The classic Nanowrimo. Means I'll be off this thing for a while. That's okay though. I haven't written here since July anyway, and nobody really reads this. Kind of glad in a way. Either way, it doesn't matter because it's more a personal project of mine anyway.
Guess that's it for now. Boss comes back Tuesday and I can get my life back then. Fuckers.
Makes me think of why I work at this stupid place. Don't want to manage the place. Just want to be a writer.
I was watching some God show just now and it made me think that God was here watching out for me and that he's watching out for MJ and everything's going to be okay, but sometimes I don't know. Sometimes I don't know what God is doing. Oddly my faith is still there. Although weak, if you want to call it that, I'd say it's still there. I wouldn't call my faith weak, I'd call it little. Sometimes it's bigger, sometimes it isn't. I mean it used to be bigger, back when Corrie was in my life and she actually cared. I mean she cares now, but she's busy, I understand that. Too busy for me? Feels like it sometimes. Everything is about me, I guess. She's supposed to be my sponsor though, least that's what I feel. I'm supposed to call her if I need to talk, but she feels so far away. Can't just pick up the phone and tell her I'm falling to pieces and I need a hug, or for her to hold me and pray for me. I like the way she hugs me, close to her, as if she doesn't hold me tight enough, I'll fall away, down into the depths of Hell. She's a good hugger like that. A small person, but powerful. Maybe one day I can return the favor for all she's done for me, but I don't know if I can. I think she's messed up her life. Or did. With that one guy. Left him, went with another guy. This guy seems pretty good.
In a way, I'm part of that family. Saw her druggie sister. She works near where I work. Great, good to see you, just don't try hitting me up for cigarettes you underage bitch! Yeah, she was nice to talk to before she tried to use my friendship with Corrie to get drugs. I don't need to buy that shit again. I'm trying to live a good clean life, and I don't need that stuff messing up my life. Even though I wouldn't be using, buying them would just be going down that road again, but the druggies don't understand, they'll just use anyone or anything to get what they want or think they need. It's like the opposite end of the spectrum. Corrie's this angel, and this other girl isn't, but then Corrie isn't the angel that she appears to be. I mean I think she's an angel, but she's got darkness inside of her which she tries to hide. Doesn't want to accept. There's that saying "shake hands with your devil." It's in a Robertson Davies novel...Fifth Business, I think it's called. She won't do that. Not for a while. Hey, she has God now, don't need to worry! Yet, she'll fuck up, but hey, she has God to solve all her problems so she can keep fucking up all she wants and be okay, I mean what is that shit anyway? I mean not so much Corrie, but a lot of Christians. You think to yourself "They're supposed to be Christian and they're doing this??" They act like shit, and blame it on "Everyone's a sinner." Fuck that shit. If you're going to fix your life, then fix your life and stop shitting on other people. It's so damned annoying when you live in your glass house behind that fancy name of Christian which gives you the right to destroy the world but still be forgiven. I mean not every Christian is like this. There are some really good people who mess up from time to time, but are trying to change, and are honest about this. They don't sit on their high horse telling you what a shit you are and how if you seek Jesus you'll be cool like them. These guys admit they're a mess, and say they're trying, and have hope that they'll succeed by having faith in Jesus. That's what Christianity is. It's not telling others you suck, and you'll only be cool if you're with the J-Man. It's about stability, focus, a center, inner peace, that kind of thing. When you have Jesus on your back, nothing else matters. He's got your back. No worries.
Some guy told me that the devil created Buddhism. I wonder if that guy was brain-washed. Some of these guys see there alone eating a sandwich, and hey, it's swell that they don't want to grab your cock or any weird shit like that. Instead they see you're alone, which means you probably have no friends, and that's the time they want to tell you about this great guy. They always start off that way. They start off slow, deceptive, almost like a salesperson, and say "Let me tell you about this cool guy." The cool guy is Jesus. Once they say that name. Omg! It's "Fuck the Jesus freaks man!" Then they wonder what you believe in. They counter with the stuff from the bible. Turns out if you read the bible every day you'll be okay. Um, yeah.
How many people have actually read the whole bible? I've read it twice. It's one long book.
This God show had it right. It's not about religion. It's a relationship. That I can believe. It's not about reading the bible. It's about connecting with Jesus and talking to him. And yeah, digging in the bible to find the answers. That's what it's about. Who cares what city the Wise Men stopped at to pee? Like I don't give a fuck. What I care about is when they nailed Jesus to the cross, and come on, that's pretty gory stuff (wish I could've written that), and then he comes back from the dead! But not just him coming back from the dead. It's what he teaches. He's like "you don't do this, do this!" Sadly not every Christian does those lessons, especially the ones who preach this shit. It's one thing to preach it, another to actually do what you preach. Practice what you preach. And a lot of those idiots don't.
I'll tell you what though. I believe in God because I know he's real. Not because some book told me because what I felt. Don't know who he is, but the bible seems to show me some answers. I like the bible, not some preacher's interpretation of it.
I said enough. I'm glad I said it. It needed to be said. Happy writing.
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