five hours in

too many variables
once i was more scientific
clinical
not this... reckless

too many variables
two hours in
this could be interesting

fuck

i was only without my phone since Wednesday, but when it is the sum total of your personal and professional life... well... saying it out loud, if the totality of my life is in a phone, that is somewhere between sad an tragic.

am still ecstatic to have it back.

...and i have been so damn busy with other peoples computers that i have not even had time to touch my new laptop. it is sitting there taunting me, and not for all the tea in china could i set it up now.

i do not think that i have gotten more than five hours of sleep i the past seven days, my mind is worthless, and my body not much better.

and i have a server tower in my truck that needs a a miracle. and all the whille my 15"macbook pro is taunting me from an unopened box.

i have built more computers than i can count but this one floored me. two radeon hd 5970 cards, each with a gigabyte of memory that is faster than god using the crossfire bridge.

it was beautiful

i may have cried a little

memories of sleep and nothing more
not tonight
perhaps tomorrow

then just a drop more to quell bitter tears, to warm my blood, to spin me gently into sleep.

one bottle of whiskey to forget and a second bottle to remember

one step down and the mountain is gone.
on step
gone

so once more i face the world in my customary manner
i am too drunk to stand up
and maudlin enough for all of Ireland to take the month off

all too soon the world is going to start expecting things of me.
it will drag me back down the mountain
back into the shit
back into the human sea
i want the world to fuck off and leave me alone

if only for a little longer

Vitae Summa Brevis Spem Nos Vetat Incohare Longam

a damn priest telling me that death is a fucking gift. the bloody asshole had the audacity to tell me that god gives us two great gifts in our lives, the miracle of our birth And THE MIRACLE OF OUR DEATH.

not out of seminary long enough for his feathers to dry and he he tells me death is a gift.

i was five different kinds of drunk and trying valiantly to invent a sixth. thanks to father fuckface now i know a sixth kind of drunk, the so angry that you want to punch a priest drunk. perhaps it was my fault, i wanted to be left alone at the bar with my book, my bottle, and my anger. when he asked if something was wrong, i said someone close to me died. so i lied, but i thought it would get this child priest to leave me alone.

he sat down
i ignored him
he ordered me a coffee
i ordered two shots of whiskey and poured them in the coffee
i ignored him
he started talking
he explained gods plan
he talked of the miracle and true beauty of death
he talked of joy and celebration
i asked him how many people he had watched die

well... none

before he arrived, i was pleasantly drunk, angry at the world, but not more than usual
now i was angry at him
i placed my hand upon his
called him son
ordered him a whiskey
and started talking.

i spoke for a long time. tales of end stage cancer, overdoses and the impotence felt waiting for an ambulance, a fathers heart attack at his daughters
wedding, what the bathroom looks like after a friend puts a gun in his mouth.
he finished his whiskey

he did not look up from the bar, from his glass
if i did not know better i would have thought he was looking for answers in a empty tumbler

five minutes passed
i had another drink
ten minutes
not a word
i asked him to explain again about the miracle of death
he never even looked up from the bar

i was almost happy as i left.

last night i slept for the first time in four or five days.

last night wrote ... something, passed out or wandered off, not sure which, without hitting post. i tried to read it today. it was over 16,500 words long. ever see a drunken street preacher? this was worse, something about dreams of gods and the gluttony of Persephone.

my new phone is no more. this would not be much of a problem if the backups of my contacts, (numbers, addresses, emails...,) etc... were not missing as well. my computer backup somehow became corrupted beyond repair, and my fabulous provider, touting big brother like databases of its customers' saved numbers, names, and everything else so that a deceased phone does not leave me without ALL OF MY FUCKING NAMES, NUMBERS, EMAILS, AND ADDRESSES. it seems that my account WAS NOT BACKED UP DUE TO TECHNICAL DIFFICULTIES!!!!!

i am the last person to look for a silver lining, and yet... less likely to make a call from a bottle of scotch, less likely to open old wounds, less likely to draw others into this fictional life.

Nothin' to do and no where to go-o-oh I wanna be sedated

completed

ahhh...

much better.

i have started to believe in my own mythology

slippery slope that

dear anthion,
is it a good idea to split firewood at 3:30am after drinking a liter of tequila?

no, there is a bee hive in the wood pile.

To top off this wonderful day, my brand new laptop up and died on me, unless:

1. smoke is supposed to come out of the keyboard


2. the smoke is supposed to be redolent of burning wires

perhaps this is simple cabin fever,
though that is a crock and i know it.

i think i am slipping into senility


time has stopped functioning in linear manner. i can no longer trust that cause will precede effect, for when you have no idea where in the timeline you stand, there little difference between the two. a few weeks ago i missed a Friday appointment for no other reason that i was convinced that that day was not anywhere near Friday when in truth it was the following Tuesday.


then there are the memories, good and bad, but it cannot be healthy that i am living vicariously through myself, who i once was, and who i might have been. memories come in such a deluge that i am am losing contact with my current life. they come so hard and fast that all i can do is sit down and let them wash over me. sometimes two or three hours will pass before i realize it, thinking that i was lost in in thought for no more than two or three minutes

*lest you get the wrong idea, none of this was/is drug induced. i would almost prefer if that was the case, then this might have a happy ending*

in for a penny, in for a pound.

seizure
(i strongly advise against having one)
not allowed to drive for three months
therefore cannot work as much
ergo no money for hospital
if i did not have insurance i would owe them around $60,000
as it is, i still owe a few grand

there goes my savings

shit

fucking memories, every place in this city is rife with what was, what might have been, and the ever present cloying stench of all the burning bridges

( You are about to view content that may only be appropriate for adults. )

i can't find the words

another year closer to dead