Job interview today wish me luck everybody.
It's an old job I had that was my first ever job and was amazingly laid back and cool.
I often have prescient dreams and I've been having dreams that I'm working in my former store, been having them for years which is understandable as I've spent 4 years in that tiny little building. But now they've changed hands and the new owners are scrambling to hire managers (as it seems) and it couldn't come at a better time.
My travesty of a court conundrum and legal cronyism asshole "conditional discharge" won't allow me to work in healthcare (my current field) for the next six months. If anyone has read my thread in the dark side they'll know the charge and the crookeder-than-a-barrell of snakes methods they used to bring me into the system. They leech money from the lower classes, but I'm not getting on a negative kick I'm in too good a mood. This new med combo is awesome and even allowed me to taper down to 1mg of clonazapam a day down from 4. Lyrica is a godsend.
Sorry for the rant I wake up super happy (paradoxical too my usual reaction which is feeling like shoving my head into the oven from the pain of being woken) and my fingers are flying on this elegant keyboard. I've relinquished control and am NOT about to start an argument with appendages. I'm outnumbered ten to one, and they know the score.
Hope everyones doing well and I hope I'm doing a good job as moderator. I was a bit absent recently because of two weeks of unscheduled benzo withdrawal that had me bedridden but I've gaffed that mighty whale in its heart and am now in full-bore functioning form.
Anybody ever wants to PM me to get to know me a little better don't hesitate, for I love a good relay of correspondence. I'm working on letters to the whole lot of you drug-addled, functional compound junkies but there's quite a few of you and it takes a bit of time. A preemptive line would be welcomed.
On another note, I'm really considering the possibility of becoming an painter/tattoo artist in the near future. I've been at the local shop nearly thrice a week just hanging out and getting the feel of the industry (I've been deeply immersed in the trade via ex-girlfriends and current friends, who own this particular shop). I've started making hindu flash and if only I could afford a lightbox and colored pencils I'd be in business. I draw at the shop but my time there is limited as they need that spot to draw at times too, I try to go when its not too busy. It's a slippery slope and an unpredictable business strictly from a profit perspective.
So I might just hold off on the typewriter as it's atavistic and would only serve as a monument and a symbolic machine. Any extra cash I accumulate that doesn't go to dissociatives and 4 substituted tryptamines will go into the following:
Soft Shader AL13 Zen
AL13 Zen Galaxie (top left)
As well as various accessories: tubes, grips, clip cords, a power supply, themal paper, also a mountain of piercing accessories because I want to get into that as well, for fun.
Just the two machines are over 1000 dollars and I'm not wasting money on garbage equipment having to tune and adjust the thing every other day. Not to mention art supplies, canvas, paints, even a few classes at the local community college I'm sure would be helpful.
I've put my writing on hold until I can get a better A.D.D. med or some 4-fluero-amphetamine. I've also taken to smoking pot here and there and I quite like it. I smoked for ten years until the age of 24, and in retrospect I can see the medicinal and creative value it imposed on my being.
Oh, and I've quit heavy drinking. A beer once in a blue moon (no the pun wasn't intended), but that's all. The only problem with being this happy and content all of a sudden wrought from the throes of reckless abandon and despair and stagnation, is that the boredom. I can do a million things and eventually I'll get bored. I've always known this emotion we call boredom, even from a very young age. I attribute this the television being introduced to me at an early age. I could write a 200 page essay on televisions negative impact on western culture (and, ultimately through the spread of information like a disease that spreads as sunshine does) starting in the 50's and growing at an exponential rate.
Did they have the tube in Orwell's 1984? I can't remember.
Anyway, thats it for now folks. The fat is in the fire. The fat lady willl be singing and it will be an ominous auditory phenomenon for anyone who hasn't cashed in there chips when the hammer comes down. My spiritual energy ALONE, even devoid of rational egoic thought and reasoning, can feel it. Hard to describe. Like the feeling of certain doom one would acquire clinging to a precipice and losing ground, only the precipice is far more complex than anything we could ever imagine, making it illusory and hard to spot (for the majority lets call them, at least). Or maybe this is all gibberish, the half-mad ramblings of a crippled terminal neurotic who happens to hold a firm grasp on diction and words. I am a man letters, and I intend to use them. Some day.
Thou
It's an old job I had that was my first ever job and was amazingly laid back and cool.
I often have prescient dreams and I've been having dreams that I'm working in my former store, been having them for years which is understandable as I've spent 4 years in that tiny little building. But now they've changed hands and the new owners are scrambling to hire managers (as it seems) and it couldn't come at a better time.
My travesty of a court conundrum and legal cronyism asshole "conditional discharge" won't allow me to work in healthcare (my current field) for the next six months. If anyone has read my thread in the dark side they'll know the charge and the crookeder-than-a-barrell of snakes methods they used to bring me into the system. They leech money from the lower classes, but I'm not getting on a negative kick I'm in too good a mood. This new med combo is awesome and even allowed me to taper down to 1mg of clonazapam a day down from 4. Lyrica is a godsend.
Sorry for the rant I wake up super happy (paradoxical too my usual reaction which is feeling like shoving my head into the oven from the pain of being woken) and my fingers are flying on this elegant keyboard. I've relinquished control and am NOT about to start an argument with appendages. I'm outnumbered ten to one, and they know the score.
Hope everyones doing well and I hope I'm doing a good job as moderator. I was a bit absent recently because of two weeks of unscheduled benzo withdrawal that had me bedridden but I've gaffed that mighty whale in its heart and am now in full-bore functioning form.
Anybody ever wants to PM me to get to know me a little better don't hesitate, for I love a good relay of correspondence. I'm working on letters to the whole lot of you drug-addled, functional compound junkies but there's quite a few of you and it takes a bit of time. A preemptive line would be welcomed.
On another note, I'm really considering the possibility of becoming an painter/tattoo artist in the near future. I've been at the local shop nearly thrice a week just hanging out and getting the feel of the industry (I've been deeply immersed in the trade via ex-girlfriends and current friends, who own this particular shop). I've started making hindu flash and if only I could afford a lightbox and colored pencils I'd be in business. I draw at the shop but my time there is limited as they need that spot to draw at times too, I try to go when its not too busy. It's a slippery slope and an unpredictable business strictly from a profit perspective.
So I might just hold off on the typewriter as it's atavistic and would only serve as a monument and a symbolic machine. Any extra cash I accumulate that doesn't go to dissociatives and 4 substituted tryptamines will go into the following:
Soft Shader AL13 Zen
AL13 Zen Galaxie (top left)
As well as various accessories: tubes, grips, clip cords, a power supply, themal paper, also a mountain of piercing accessories because I want to get into that as well, for fun.
Just the two machines are over 1000 dollars and I'm not wasting money on garbage equipment having to tune and adjust the thing every other day. Not to mention art supplies, canvas, paints, even a few classes at the local community college I'm sure would be helpful.
I've put my writing on hold until I can get a better A.D.D. med or some 4-fluero-amphetamine. I've also taken to smoking pot here and there and I quite like it. I smoked for ten years until the age of 24, and in retrospect I can see the medicinal and creative value it imposed on my being.
Oh, and I've quit heavy drinking. A beer once in a blue moon (no the pun wasn't intended), but that's all. The only problem with being this happy and content all of a sudden wrought from the throes of reckless abandon and despair and stagnation, is that the boredom. I can do a million things and eventually I'll get bored. I've always known this emotion we call boredom, even from a very young age. I attribute this the television being introduced to me at an early age. I could write a 200 page essay on televisions negative impact on western culture (and, ultimately through the spread of information like a disease that spreads as sunshine does) starting in the 50's and growing at an exponential rate.
Did they have the tube in Orwell's 1984? I can't remember.
Anyway, thats it for now folks. The fat is in the fire. The fat lady willl be singing and it will be an ominous auditory phenomenon for anyone who hasn't cashed in there chips when the hammer comes down. My spiritual energy ALONE, even devoid of rational egoic thought and reasoning, can feel it. Hard to describe. Like the feeling of certain doom one would acquire clinging to a precipice and losing ground, only the precipice is far more complex than anything we could ever imagine, making it illusory and hard to spot (for the majority lets call them, at least). Or maybe this is all gibberish, the half-mad ramblings of a crippled terminal neurotic who happens to hold a firm grasp on diction and words. I am a man letters, and I intend to use them. Some day.
Thou
