Alcohol River Dream

I lost my skin, over and over again.. wading through the river of life, looking for my mind.
Sometimes, I think I've found it, but it usually turns out to be a crude facade.. a poor bas relief of a brain mould
that crumbles into dust, that disappears into nothingness.
When I find it, I try to hold on tight, but it's slippery in the rushing water. The water is oily. it is in fact pure oil.
While I grasp it, I try to clean it by scrubbing it on the smooth, brightly colored stones that comprise the river bed.
a rainbow cobblestones of glistening gems and jewels, vitrified and glowing with some strange inner light that might indicate life force.
My mind is a rubbery cheeseburger.. elastic and bouncy. Elusive and nearly intangible. Rubbery but ungraspable. I ply it
and massage it, taking note of the striations, ripples, veins, fibrous pulpy mass of electrical nonsense.. "Give it a
good scrub, and douse it with 90% iso alcohol.. kills the germs" my Father used to tell me. The Alcohol pools nearby offer
easy rinsing, and I almost get it back in my head, but it slips out of my grasp again. "FUCK!"
As it turns out, Having held it for just fractions of seconds is somehow enough to scrape out an existence. I never hold it for even a full second,
but if you add up all the partial seconds over time, it's enough for a life. just enough.

The more you know...

The more you know, the more you want to know. 

The more you want to know, the more you’ll want to keep living, so you can learn more.. to enrich your experiences, as well as those of your loved ones and all who are in your sphere of influence.

The more things you think, do or try, the more you have lived. 

Failure does not mean it is over. 

Failure is only part of the catalyst we humans use as a solvent for problems, but just as essential as accomplishnment. To illustrate, consider the way we are inactive physically while asleep, inconsequential to the waking world, behind the veil of sleep..yet sleep is an integral piece of our health. A vital necessity of our existence.

I haven't posted in awhile haha. I only chose this pic because I'm drunk and couldn't find the other on this stupid chromebook. This may sound like new age bullshit, but whatever.. It helps me. When I am in pain, or lonely, or feel like the world will end.. which happens often nowadays. I tell my body what I want it to do. If I'm feeling panicked, I tell myself to calm. If I'm feeling pain, I tell that part of my body to heal, heal, heal.. When I'm going to sleep, I tell my body to "rest, heal, rest, heal." It's simple and sounds dumb, but it works. try it or don't. I don't give a fuck. It helped me.

Breaking roots and growing new ones someplace else.

My whole sentient life seems like it has been a neverending series of instances where I realize that I'm a few cunt hairs away from one negative extreme or another. Is that what my life is? just fending off disaster day to day? Every time someone pisses me off or gets in my business for no reason I have to decide yes or no. Do I "yes" knee-jerk and immediately beat on their face until it becomes concave? or do I continue living with little or no incident.. repeating the cycle every day, several times a day until I'm too weak to be able to decide? It makes you wonder.. if every human on this earth dealt with their anger immediately instead of repressing, would it be better or worse? There would certainly be less people, as a matter of course.. that in itself would be better for whatever population remained as well as the planet and everything else that lives on it. The world would be a very violent place for awhile, but the populace would be weaned, and those left would be forced to think very differently about everything. Wouldn't that be better than a massively bloated population of sentient beings who delude and constrain themselves everyday to fit into society.. a construct.. an artificial institution that erodes nature in virtually every capacity. When you think the same for too long.. even to preserve a seemingly harmonious society, your mindset stagnates. Sometimes, doing something different, even if it hurts or seems destructive.. is all that can save the life of whatever that enduring thought was created to protect. Sometimes breaking the pattern is ultimately more important than the pattern itself.

Waking thoughts

First thing I thought of when waking up this morning was: Everything alive on this earth is dying. Life begets life.. and on and on.. but each generation is weaker than the last. Each generation benefits from less minerals, less oxygen, more corruption, pollution, contamination and erosion. dysfunction, mutation, deviation, derision.. increasingly aggressive and deadly, evolving pathogens. Poisonous "medicines", stress, population bloat, societal "ideals". We spend our entire lives carving out a sliver of time in which to enjoy life.. and by that time, we're climbing into the grave. In the end, everything that lives succumbs to corruption.. be it organic, societal or financial. If it relates to humans.. all three. I thought of all that... and then I went back to sleep.

Fuck Nowadays Halloween.

You know what? I don't fucking like Halloween. I realize that may be a shock because I like horror movies, demons, jackolanterns, bats, etc.. First off.. I don't like children. I don't buy candy, I don't answer the door, I don't wear costumes. The last costume I wore was a Terminator costume in grade school. I think Halloween caters to the whole "LOOK AT MEE!!!!" mentality that is already an everyday mode for too many people in the first place. I also hate how it has become so mainstream.. and like fireworks, which I also hate.. it's a way for society to make death and evil "safe" and "fun".. in effect, to try to downplay or nullify the severity and serious nature of those things so it's fun for the whole family. FUCK that shit. This mentality has gotten so out of hand that there are zombie proms and group zombie walks now.. dumbest fucking thing ever. When you nerf something extreme down over decades.. it loses all it's allure and significance and becomes boring, predictable and milktoast like every other goddamned thing. I dunno.. I've almost always hated all holidays anyhow.. maybe because they have all become commercialized. You always have to buy something.. candy, turkey, presents, flowers, chocolates, etc.. and the only tradition being honored truthfully at this point is that corporations get paid every year. The whole phenomenon makes me fucking ill. Like I said, I LOVE horror movies and dark subject matter, but I don't enjoy what society has done with those things I guess. Meh, maybe I'm just a miserable old bastard. Maybe?

1:07AM musing

There are few things more satisfying in this world than dialing in a high end piece of machinery to your perceived level of perfection.. It's about as close to perfect as anything that does not occur naturally can possibly get.

One big, eternal punchline...

I have no clue what is wrong with me. Is it normal to get mad enough to want to kill people every fucking day? I can't see how
that passes for a life. 99% of everything in this world leaves me disgusted, frustrated or killing mad.. I hate what humans are, hate what I am.. We are nothing more than greedy creatures who have fooled ourselves into believing that we belong in this massive construct called society.. and to exist in this society in the proper manner, we have to be focused and obsessed with the societal ideal of a nuclear family, successful, economically viable career, house, 2 or 3 cars and retirement plan. If you have all that, you are supposed to be content finally, but from what I know and have seen, those people are just as miserable, perhaps moreso than the guy panhandling on the street. You bust your ass for 70% of your life and by the time you have earned the right to enjoy life and the world we live in, you are too old and beaten down to do so. It's all a big fucking joke and if we aren't laughing, I wonder who is.

Self defeating, false evolution.

I have not, nor will I ever be honestly, politically correct. The very thought sickens me and makes me angry.
Politically correctness is nothing more than a shackle, a constraint on free thought, imposed by an increasingly
weak and morally burdened society. How the hell can an individual be "free" when there are so many guidelines imposed
in order to live in harmony with others? What ever happened to "I will think what I think, and you can do the same.. If you don't
agree, so be it." I acknowledge only nature's laws... man's laws are nothing more than a feeble construct meant to oppress
the majority and keep them producing, procreating and consuming. What sense is there in telling other human beings that they aren't even allowed to consume certain plants or fungi that grow naturally upon the same ground we were originally birthed on?
Power, control, society.. all illusions.. Masterfully crafted illusions to be sure, but nothing more. Capitalism, Socialism, Marxism, Communism.. all contrived. All based on our projections of how the order of things should be. Nihilism makes more sense than any of those. As imperfect as nihilism may seem, it is more natural, more possessed of an indisputable logic that we humans just can't seem to grasp with our short lifespans. Order may rise over and over again, but it must always submit to chaos.. always. Chaos is the fabric of this universe, the liquid that is ever in motion. Order is merely the buildup of debris and scum that must inevitably be eroded and flushed away to ensure that progress and evolution continue. Sharks aren't the only organisms that die when they stop moving.. make no mistake.

The enemy.

The enemy cuts deep this night… with knives made of pain, regret, emptiness, failure.

The enemy knows that it is best to cut out the middle man… What has metal to do with pain and death when the stuff of the universe itself rises to shape and forge your weapon? Why bother in material stuffs when absolute purity of force and direction, and murderous intent of the highest caliber are ample and within grasp? There is no middle-man in this world, no call for his wares. In this place, death has had all it will ever need of practice. In this place economy and speed are one in the same, and life is cheaper than at any time on the timeline of humanity's existence.

*Funny how the very construct and concept of economy exists even in scenarios imagined and however wildly exaggerated.

2

Two wholly unpleasant things to have happen within an 8 hour span..

1: Seeing your Subway sandwich being assembled by an obese, shifty, pasty skinned woman with a dark moustache... The individual, thick and coarse hairs protruding from her semi-translucent, fishbelly skin

like some unholy, grotesque human skin fun-factory.

2: Going into the bathroom at work only to discover a toilet seat slathered in blood.

Whose blood is it? are they dying? or merely pushing too hard? What's in that blood?

McMassacre

Cheeseburger violence erupted at McDonaldland today as a burglary went horribly wrong. A pirate and a masked man dressed in a stripey uniform broke into McDonaldland and proceeded to eat it's citizens. Mayor McCheese and several of his flock were eaten alive in the assault. Several packages of frozen fry guys tried to stop the attackers but were subsequently fried in oil and eaten for their trouble. The nightmare ended when Officer BigMac shot the intruders dead in front of a dozen screaming children and their horrified families. Evidence suggests this was an inside job, and authorities are currently seeking an individual known only as "Grimace".

Fish Story

It was with no small level of inebriation or entheogenic influence that I undertook

the small, benign task of feeding my fish. I employ a simple, screw on and off maneuver that distributes a fine layer of food without actually opening the container all the way. I was utilizing this technique, not accounting for heightened senses, muscle pressure error, fatigue, etc.. and dumped like half the fucking food container in the bowl. It's only a 3/4 gallon little bowl I got as a gift with the fish, so I figure that amount of food in a small space with a live fish won't keep overnight like that... it'll either die from too much salt in the water from all the food.. or it'll eat itself to death just like dumb fish do. I've left out important details.. the fish is a male betta I got from a friend for Christmas. I named him Floyd. The food is tetra bettamin I think. It's a bright almost fuschia color with white chunks peppering the surface. Upon consulting the container, I discovered the white chunks were tiny, brine shrimp.

I used a spoon to get as much food out as possible, but it was all falling to the bottom at that point and I was definitely going to have to clean it now.

Floyd's tiny brain was probably HAPPY-HUNGRY-TERRIFIED in that order before and after I cleaned it out.

I transferred Floyd to another container, and cranked on my kitchen's hot water, blasting the bowl to clean it out.

It takes awhile to heat up in this building, but when it gets there, it's hotter than hell and scalds at the touch. The water churns and when I turn the faucet off, the bowl looks like some gnarly snowglobe filled with bright red gobbets of flesh and chunks of bone flying around. Floyd was sitting in the transitional bowl on the kitchen counter right by the sink. (My kitchen is almost prison small.) The pressure and sound from the sink must have been deafening as he is ultra sensitive to even the slightest noises and gestures. Being in the state I was, senses heightened and slightly alien feeling myself, I didn't arrive at this thought until after a few minutes of sustained sink usage, which must have had all the subtlety of two planes crashing into two giant buildings on poor Floyd. I only thought of it because the sound was deafening to me at the time.

I moved him and returned to the bowl I was cleaning. The aforementioned snow gore-globe effect was still in motion and I could make out details on the white, little brine shrimp. I could see their limbs, suspended and somewhat outspread in the water, waving in macro representation of faux life with bright, red bits circling with, but slightly faster than them like tiny, crunchberry will o' the wisps.

There were thousands in there. I kept rinsing and emptying enough brine shrimp to fight a damned decent world war, if they chose to.. which would make me one lucky spectator. I could picture them, perfect little zombie killing machines, all the same size and color.. uniform, like organic stormtroopers with feathery, waving appendages, brandishing macro rifles.

It dawned on me halfway thru this rinsing that all my dishes are now and will be tomorrow encrusted with pet-grade seafood base and enough brine shrimp to fix an undead shrimp election. I'm too fucked at present to care though. I feel good.

The fish is fine by the way, that fucker has to have the PTSD of Rambo at this point, but he never lets it affect his appetite.

1111 is appearing increasingly and becoming more random lately.. the receipt total of the woman in front of me, the sorting code of random parcels at work, the time I receive a call, my car's mileage, a business' last four digits phone number.. all this week... alongside the already prevalent clock presence. Acceleration most certainly signals change. Perpetuity and increase of events means growth, evolution, complexity, nearing an end.

The old lady nightmare

Nightmare recounting for Saturday, January 30th.

I've been sick for about 3 weeks and haven't been drinking or anything else because I was experiencing phobia and became unable to differentiate between the effects of being under the influence and the symptoms of my headcold/inflammed/sinus infection/difficulty breathing. Also, I haven't taken melatonin for a few weeks, which I usually do nightly to increase REM and give me better rest. Last night I took 3mg melatonin with L-Theanine.

Setting: A city halfway composed of Portland and Anchorage in the Spring/Summertime. In the nightmare, there was this old, decrepit lady (I'm estimating between 85-95) I would visit and do favors for, like bring groceries, run errands, etc.. This old lady happened to be a butcher for some reason. Her apartment was located in the upstairs of an old building.. the bottom floor was her butcher shop/restaurant.

I was visiting with her and she said to me "You know how I'm always on the lookout for fresh meat.." I replied "yeah?". The next thing I know, I become dizzy and fall over unconscious. I awake groggy and standing upright, restrained at both wrists and ankles to a post or x-frame of sorts, similar to the S&M type. I am under the influence of some drug that has rendered my body paralyzed from the neck down so I can hear, speak and move my face, but nothing else. The woman has a tiny, teddy-bear style, black pomeranian that sits and watches me with rapt interest while all this is taking place. The old woman mumbles, telling me that she is going to cut me slowly, finally dismembering me and selling my meat and serving the meat to her customers, but first, she needs to remove my teeth. She produces a shiny metal, curved blade with a handle at both ends. It's essentially a U-shape with the middle curve utilized for cutting. I've seen similar tools used by clay sculptors to scoop out large, round sections of clay. She positions this tool under my top, frontmost teeth and applies leverage causing my front four teeth to break away in a soft, crumble as if they were made of wax. It happens so fast and seems so strange that it doesn't even hurt at first, but then a wave of the most intense pain I've ever felt washes over me along with copious amounts of blood, and I become enraged, crazed and nauseous at the same time.

The sudden and powerful rush of endorphins causes the paralytic effect of the drug to wear off at that instant, and though I'm still very weak, I grab her small, feeble, white haired head and twist it, using one hand under her fragile chin and grabbing a handful of waxy, white hair in a fist with the other. A dry, wrenching noise sounds, like someone noisily crunching a large piece of peanut brittle in a closed mouth... She makes a horrid broken up, keening moan and begins cursing me loudly, oaths of terrible violence and hate spewing from her mouth along with dentures and thick, clear, viscous saliva in shiny strings. Her speech devolves into garbled, screechy gibberish that is truly terrifying and I'm increasingly alarmed at her heightening, frenzied madness.

I feel weak and scared, and I think she'll grow stronger unless I finish her, so I slowly force my thumbs into her eyes, feeling them swell and pop, bluish gloppy slime, similar to her drool gushing out along with corded, grey fibrous tissue from the insides of her eyes.. all of it sloshes down my thumbs and her cheeks along with her impossibly bright blood. It looks like a colorful bit of Dale Chihuly glasswork creation that I might admire in a book or at a museum exhibit.

I feel my thumbs start to splinter and then pop through the delicate, eggshell-like layer of bone behind her eyes and into the warm, squirming brain beneath. The brain matter causes the skin of my thumbs to tingle and itch slightly.

Next, the scene just cuts to her apartment with blood everywhere. the dog is looking up at me as if nothing has happened. I fill his bowl with food, start to clean up and realize that no amount of cleaning will fix this. It was self defense, but who is going to possibly believe me? I decide to turn myself in. I go downstairs to exit through her butcher shop/restaurant and discover two patrons sitting at the counter waiting to be served.

One of the patrons is a woman who gapes at me in horror, and I look down and realize that my hands are covered with shiny blood and vitreous humour. The other patron, a man, is speaking in hushed tones to someone on a cellphone. "The police" I realize. I exit the building to a painfully bright, sunny day and this is when I wake up. It takes about 30 seconds of getting up, walking around before I realize that I don't have any reason to turn myself in because I haven't done anything after all.

Epiphany...

Why does a night of cheap vodka always end with me hunched naked in a corner of darkness, clutching 9 inches of razor sharp, unforgiving, cold steel, uttering oaths of bloody murder and promises of sworn vengeance through clenched teeth? The world may never know.

Last night's nightmare..

Man, What the FUCK?!
The whole thing revolved around a mother and her little boy, aged 4 or 5.
He was a special needs kid, and they were constantly going to stores, arcades, kiddie places..
At first it was all fine and dandy, he was a pain in the ass constantly, but she was tolerant and loving. As the nightmare progressed, he started to get more annoying and out of hand. They went sightseeing at this pacific northwest nexus of forest realities. The vortices for each dimension were called "Glasspaws" and when you walked through them, you were in a different forested area that looked like any one of a thousand larger than life postcard scenes.
At the end of the nightmare, they came home from one such outing. The kid was screaming and being the most annoying he possibly could. The mother looked frazzled and disheveled. Her nerves were clearly fried at this point, and she was pulling hair out by the tens of strands. She had picked, scratched and pinched several sores onto her arms and around her lips.
Suddenly, she grabbed the boy by the legs, dashed his head against the corner of the hallway. He screamed the most godawful combination of human child and unknown tortured animal I have ever heard. After 3 or 4 good massive blows, he was quiet. She was raving, talking gibberish and half crying intermittently. She held his ruined, bloody head to her face and started kissing it and licking the oozing brain matter out from the ruptured skull and matted, displaced hair.
Then she started to dig in to the mess with her teeth, chewing and swallowing chunks of her son's brain, scalp and hair.. crying and keening in a horrible high pitch.
The boy seemed to wake up then.. he said "I love you mommy" "I love you mommy" over and over again like a broken talking doll whose sound chip is damaged and doesn't sound quite right..
the loop abnormal and altering in pitch and timing. She was crying hysterically then, but she didn't stop eating.
That's when I woke up. Took me damned near an hour to get back to sleep.

Smarter than a lot of humans I know..

There are still things to be scared of.

Locked-in syndrome is a condition in which a patient is aware and awake, but cannot move or communicate due to complete paralysis of nearly all voluntary muscles in the body except for the eyes. It is the result of a brain stem lesion in which the ventral part of the pons is damaged. The condition has been described as "the closest thing to being buried alive". In French, the common term is "maladie de l'emmuré vivant", literally translated as walled-in alive disease; in German it is sometimes called "Eingeschlossensein".^[1]

Locked-in syndrome is also known as cerebromedullospinal disconnection,^[2] de-efferented state, pseudocoma,^[3] and ventral pontine syndrome.

The term for this disorder was coined by Plum and Posner in 1966

Too much CSI...

I was downtown with some friends Thursday night walking around. At some point I lost my pocket knife but don't recall when or where. I've carried this knife for 3 years, every single day, every time I leave the house. It's a Kershaw Scallion. Blade is 2.25 inches long. Good little knife. Looked for it at home, my friend looked at her house to no avail.
Then I start worrying that some methhead is going to pick it up and use it on somebody. It's highly unlikely that this would happen, and the blade is tiny, but this is how my brain works. Today I called the cops to explain this and at least maybe have it on record that I lost it on Thursday, a description of the knife, etc.. The cop was actually laughing at me. He said "can it be traced back to you?" I said, well, I'm fairly certain my prints are on it. More laughing. "Sir, I'm not going to take any of this down.. if it were a wallet, I'd report it. Thank you, goodbye!"
This should have nullified my concern, but it doesn't. I don't think I'll carry a knife anymore unless I'm in the woods.