I’m drinking seltzer water.
I ran out of scotch.
I’m ‘addicted’ to carbonated water.
Feel strong desire for scotch.
I have beer but its like methadone, or something.
Feel parody of ‘hate’.
Sat on couch afterwork, like wondering what to do, drinking a beer, very stoned, listening to The Weeknd loud, then listened to James Taylor & Carly Simon, pacing because I was alone and thought, I can go buy the record, more bloads and walking 5 blocks, Wax Trax parallel. They didn’t have the record I wanted. I went to Kilgore’s the used bookstore next door and bought “Catalina” by W. Somerset Maugham for $2.15; The store’s owned by some grad students, I think. They were playing some ‘cool’ music ambient rock like. They have a great selection, a lot of ‘pocket-paperbacks’ like a pocket-size book 60’s-style before the now like ‘trade-paper back style’. What the fuck is up with these scar quotes? I have hate in me. Sorry. Walking there, I had felt like creepy, too stoned, anti-social and tried to be unoffensive. When I came back I ate dinner and then had weed, last scotch (I saw 1.75 litter of Dewars at Sam’s Club, sweet Jesus, next paycheck). And then I wrote a bit, and then paced and had watched Californication season 1, and wrote more about my delusional bullshit. And I have a fridge of beer I don’t want. Arg. Pirate shit. Bong loads and staring at the wall seems like the answer.
I’m drinking seltzer water.
I got a table and chairs from a deli downtown.
I sat in the chair, green cushion and dark wood, and put a case of modelo in the bottom of the fridge.
I thought, a lot of asses have sat in this chair.
I tried to imagine a number, of multiple use, and single use.
mutter to yourself “idiot” while drinking scotch and soda out of an orange plastic cup.
the last clean cup.
masturbate when you get home from work so you can concentrate on other things. feel anxiety after hanging clothes b/c the drier doesn’t work & worry psychic link and worry. start to compose text but stop. look at sent emails and see you’ve only sent 2 in past weeks, see prior emails from prior time. write in stupid “you” voice b/c you keep muttering “idiot” but feel as if your mind could stop what it’s doing you will be fine.
Cinco de Pressing - Jerry Springer guest translated on Telemundo, “ustedes yo no conoce” with head shaking attitude
“As long as you love me” by Justin Bieber:
I was drunk last Saturday, and had just ate, and thought I’d get REAL stoned because drunk and no, like, “I’m too stoned”-thing, because drunkenness, also hybrid weed, with sativa antsy-ness, thought be fucked up nice. And this Justin Bieber song came on. I had to like lay down and took about an hour to chill, like all intense stoned, thinking about my ex.
“When I was your man” by Bruno Mars:
I was putting my tv and DVD player, et cetera, together on my new $20 Target TV cart, and this Bruno Mars came on 95.7 The Party, Denver’s pop/r&b/hip hop station. Obviously I feel like a selfish jerk. This was today.
“Stay” by Rihanna
Jesus, today. Just balling. Beautiful song though.
Seems masturbation is the key to being single.
Pretty horrible person
On Monday I went over a potential novel, I started to write but stopped over a year ago, b/c life got crazy. It’s at 36,000 words and I have ~10,000-15,000 words typed in other formats which are usable towards with cuts so half that, many notes and notebooks. I know where I need to go and need to go over old notes get it in my head and let it spin about so I can just sit and let it out. I’ve been struggling with my mind like feeling looped in ways and focused at others. Chilled on drinking b/c couldn’t sit through movie and I think longterm drinking causes focus issues. Started reading at park. Did some push-ups in morning. My brain feels like if I can channel it into something, everything will be fine. Without a cognitive dissonance my mind gets sad and I think of Sarah and that I’m an idiot but I just needed to be alone to get my head right and figure out my life. Or I’m just addicted to drama, as my therapist suggested. But I really like being alone and feel I need to utilize this time and opportunity to just let my soul cry.
Thanks for reading. I’ve been reading Megan Boyle’s liveblog, and thought, “game plan big time” and thought Megan Boyle would write that. Baby’s big day out, I think she rifted on. I’ve been reading Proust volume 3 and Megan Boyle’s liveblog. I have no Internet presence btw. Ungoogleable. Into the internet void. Lol, I’m enjoying my ramble!
Jesus, this is sweet
Once I attended a Buddhist meditation class for a year. It was in the Kadampa tradition. I was a ‘regular’ and was asked to greet new people. The instructors name was Jeff and he drove from San Diego to teach the class in a yoga studio in the suburb I lived in. There was a 3-month period where I didn’t get angry. I was also completely sober. The idea of emptiness replaced the idea of nothingness; there was something there, just no one could really see it. There was no inherent meaning. We were all Buddhas in our centers, or inner most mind. The delusions of self-grasping “I” led to the delusion of attachment which led to the delusion of anger. I started getting stoned again and when I’d meditate, my inner winds felt ‘hyper’; like I couldn’t get as deep in my mediation. I took a retreat in the mountain town of Julian, east of San Diego. I couldn’t quite get past the idea that through following the path, ‘dharma, could through many lives get my ‘karma’ cleansed of delusions to finally reach enlightenment and help others. My western beliefs kept the idea of me being a Buddha, someday in some life, as impossible; equating a Buddha as a god. I also saw the main spiritual teacher who had brought this form of Buddhism to England prior to the US., in LA, at The Weston, the “glass elevator building”. What I learnt helped me view things and people with sympathy. I viewed my emotions of anger and attachment in Buddhist veins and understood my life and why I felt and reacted certain ways. Years went by and reincarnation made more and more sense. Heaven and hell were on earth. Our energy doesn’t go away. The outer mind, or self-grasping “I”, doesn’t go to our next life, but our karma does. Can’t you see the soul, or mind, in a dog. A dog cannot practice a spiritual path, and that is why as a human we are very lucky to be able to. I walked past a Kadampa tradition house in Capitol Hill and grabbed a flier; having been meaning to attend for years. I thought, “Sanga” meaning community in Buddhism. The three tenants of Buddhism: “dharma” the way, “karma” energy (dont have a good definition for this), and “sangai” meaning community (not sure on spelling). There is no #YOLO in Buddhism.