Well, i'm older, colder, but not fatter.
Part of the agreement that I made with my mom was that I was going to get into an outpatient program, which I'm not too thrilled about. I still don't know how I feel about being clean-wait a minute, that's a lie, I know exactly how I feel about it, I don't like it, never have, probably never will-It's guilt, and what has guilt ever done for anyone but make them feel more guilty?
Anyway, I'm not going to start whining like I'm 21 again, if I stay clean, I'll stay clean, if I start shooting dope or crystal again, fuck it I can deal with that too, I can live like an animal and be fine with that. I can also shut off my conscience as long as I'm on enough dope. Maybe I'll stay clean, maybe I'll be a weekend warrior for a time, maybe I'll OD, it's in God's hands now, and I don't believe in any God.
THE CLICHE JUNKY SHIT ENDS HERE
maybe...
That being said, I did have a nice 'moment' if you will. I signed up for this open studio at this place called the 'McConnell' art center here in good ol' Worthington, Ohio. Now there was no model or anything so I just drew some easels and lighting equipment to warm my hand up, and after popping my two kpins that I get rationed out each day, I went outside in the rain and drew a tree. And man, for some reason that really made my fucking day, I barely had cover from the drizzle, but it was a really 'cathartic' experience if you will. I mean art is the one thing that makes me feel like a worthwhile human being, without it I'd probably kill myself, I just love the fucking experience, it's really quite a trip to understand something so well from a visual perspective (as that is what drawing is really about-seeing). I'm not trying to brag or anything, but I was drawing this tree and I just felt like my dick was getting bigger and bigger (symbolism people, I wasn't really getting an erection), at first I was sitting down, and then I stood up and started drawing while I was swaying around like some fucking weird string bean in the wind and I was fucking cross hatching that mother into reality. And for a moment (and this has happened to me before), I felt this power course through my veins, like I was mainlining the divine.
And then I crashed..
I wonder sometimes if love is being able to share the darkest part or weakest part of yourself with someone else and being accepted for it, or if instead, it's supposed to be showing the darkest side of yourself and having your unfortunate partner 'bless' you with their 'healing' light, and complete you so to speak. I have no physical desire to fuck, only a psychological one because I have a very low confidence. I will not fuck anything though, I have proved this time and time again, and I also hate porn, it makes me really depressed. I tried to watch some the other day since you were all interested, and I sat there trying to beat a limp dick until I just said fuck it, not literally, and played some guitar instead. Porn makes me think of all the reasons I'm a heroin addict and why I hate this country, and yet, when I fuck, I want to smack my dick against girls cheeks like they do in porn, isn't that a gas?
My mom was annoying me today when I was in the car with her, as she often does. She's a terrible driver but she was driving me to get my pack of cigarettes so how could I complain, but she wasn't paying attention and nearly drove straight into the back of this van in front of us. I said something to the effect of 'you really got to pay better attention", not really in a nasty tone but it wasn't a nice one. She was kind of startled by the whole thing and then ended up going down a wrong street, and she said something in this kind of quiet tone like "I really don't know what I'm doing"- and I had this connection man, where I stopped being annoyed with her and I suddenly felt for her with all of my heart, whatever is left of it, and I told her it was alright, and I said it really nice and when I got out of the car I told her I loved her, I loved her for saying that because though I think she meant that she just didn't know her way around the neighborhood, part of her really meant that she didn't know what the fuck she was doing and she was embarrassed about that. And I got sympathy for those who can admit embarrassment, it's not easy, its actually quite fucking brave, half my life I've been embarrassed of myself and pretended not to be. And really who does know what the fuck they're doing, I don't, sometimes I do but not really in a deep sense. I'm driven by greed and lust, but sometimes I'll put that on the back burner to help someone out. I guess I'm kind of like Jesus you could say.
I got nothing to do but bide my time, get high on propylhexadrine now and then, draw/paint, take subs, shoot the shit with myself, do crunches cause I'm vein, listen to metal, listen to punk, play guitar, feel bad for myself, think Mathew McConneghie (however the fuck you spell his name) is a beautiful man in True Detective, whine to myself, smoke cowboy killers, put myself to sleep with remeron, not meet people, pretend I'm hard, hate the world, think of Oakland, think of New York, look out my window, imagine a hundred different ways I could fuck this girl that works at this dumb sandwich shop, debate the ethical dilemma of New Yorks Cannibal cop with people who aren't interested, spout my bullshit on BL, spread my pretty feathers, wish I was smarter, think I am smarter, almost talk to my ex/running partner and then remember she don't want nothing to do with me, consider buying RC's to get high, plot ways in which I could do this, lose interest, go to sleep, wake up, take my subs, wonder why I'm tapering, wonder why I'm still writing this, wish I was someone else and then if i was someone else would I want to fuck myself? The age old question.
Part of the agreement that I made with my mom was that I was going to get into an outpatient program, which I'm not too thrilled about. I still don't know how I feel about being clean-wait a minute, that's a lie, I know exactly how I feel about it, I don't like it, never have, probably never will-It's guilt, and what has guilt ever done for anyone but make them feel more guilty?
Anyway, I'm not going to start whining like I'm 21 again, if I stay clean, I'll stay clean, if I start shooting dope or crystal again, fuck it I can deal with that too, I can live like an animal and be fine with that. I can also shut off my conscience as long as I'm on enough dope. Maybe I'll stay clean, maybe I'll be a weekend warrior for a time, maybe I'll OD, it's in God's hands now, and I don't believe in any God.
THE CLICHE JUNKY SHIT ENDS HERE
maybe...
That being said, I did have a nice 'moment' if you will. I signed up for this open studio at this place called the 'McConnell' art center here in good ol' Worthington, Ohio. Now there was no model or anything so I just drew some easels and lighting equipment to warm my hand up, and after popping my two kpins that I get rationed out each day, I went outside in the rain and drew a tree. And man, for some reason that really made my fucking day, I barely had cover from the drizzle, but it was a really 'cathartic' experience if you will. I mean art is the one thing that makes me feel like a worthwhile human being, without it I'd probably kill myself, I just love the fucking experience, it's really quite a trip to understand something so well from a visual perspective (as that is what drawing is really about-seeing). I'm not trying to brag or anything, but I was drawing this tree and I just felt like my dick was getting bigger and bigger (symbolism people, I wasn't really getting an erection), at first I was sitting down, and then I stood up and started drawing while I was swaying around like some fucking weird string bean in the wind and I was fucking cross hatching that mother into reality. And for a moment (and this has happened to me before), I felt this power course through my veins, like I was mainlining the divine.
And then I crashed..
I wonder sometimes if love is being able to share the darkest part or weakest part of yourself with someone else and being accepted for it, or if instead, it's supposed to be showing the darkest side of yourself and having your unfortunate partner 'bless' you with their 'healing' light, and complete you so to speak. I have no physical desire to fuck, only a psychological one because I have a very low confidence. I will not fuck anything though, I have proved this time and time again, and I also hate porn, it makes me really depressed. I tried to watch some the other day since you were all interested, and I sat there trying to beat a limp dick until I just said fuck it, not literally, and played some guitar instead. Porn makes me think of all the reasons I'm a heroin addict and why I hate this country, and yet, when I fuck, I want to smack my dick against girls cheeks like they do in porn, isn't that a gas?
My mom was annoying me today when I was in the car with her, as she often does. She's a terrible driver but she was driving me to get my pack of cigarettes so how could I complain, but she wasn't paying attention and nearly drove straight into the back of this van in front of us. I said something to the effect of 'you really got to pay better attention", not really in a nasty tone but it wasn't a nice one. She was kind of startled by the whole thing and then ended up going down a wrong street, and she said something in this kind of quiet tone like "I really don't know what I'm doing"- and I had this connection man, where I stopped being annoyed with her and I suddenly felt for her with all of my heart, whatever is left of it, and I told her it was alright, and I said it really nice and when I got out of the car I told her I loved her, I loved her for saying that because though I think she meant that she just didn't know her way around the neighborhood, part of her really meant that she didn't know what the fuck she was doing and she was embarrassed about that. And I got sympathy for those who can admit embarrassment, it's not easy, its actually quite fucking brave, half my life I've been embarrassed of myself and pretended not to be. And really who does know what the fuck they're doing, I don't, sometimes I do but not really in a deep sense. I'm driven by greed and lust, but sometimes I'll put that on the back burner to help someone out. I guess I'm kind of like Jesus you could say.
I got nothing to do but bide my time, get high on propylhexadrine now and then, draw/paint, take subs, shoot the shit with myself, do crunches cause I'm vein, listen to metal, listen to punk, play guitar, feel bad for myself, think Mathew McConneghie (however the fuck you spell his name) is a beautiful man in True Detective, whine to myself, smoke cowboy killers, put myself to sleep with remeron, not meet people, pretend I'm hard, hate the world, think of Oakland, think of New York, look out my window, imagine a hundred different ways I could fuck this girl that works at this dumb sandwich shop, debate the ethical dilemma of New Yorks Cannibal cop with people who aren't interested, spout my bullshit on BL, spread my pretty feathers, wish I was smarter, think I am smarter, almost talk to my ex/running partner and then remember she don't want nothing to do with me, consider buying RC's to get high, plot ways in which I could do this, lose interest, go to sleep, wake up, take my subs, wonder why I'm tapering, wonder why I'm still writing this, wish I was someone else and then if i was someone else would I want to fuck myself? The age old question.
