Thursday, January 26, 2017


I read an article online today. One of those 'personal experience' stories, much like something I would write. This person was talking about what it was like to be bipolar. She was talking about it. About the medication and the side effects, and how she would have to take more medication just to counter the side effects of the medication she was already taking, and how each medication that was added on top of the previous medication was like a Jenga tower. You hope it stays upright and doesn't fall, but each new medication was like pulling a link from the tower. If you're lucky, it holds. Eventually though, the whole thing will collapse. It's just inevitable.

That was her life. A constant, never-ending experiment with finding the right medication to keep the Jenga tower upright, that would bracket in her bipolar, allowing her to function. Kind of. On top of a rickety tower.

Sometimes she would achieve a sort of stability, but with side effects that refused to be countered... such as random body part paralysis, constant dry mouth, having her sensation of taste ironed into a single nasty, metallic flavor, and uncontrollable weight gain followed by uncontrollable weight loss, just to name a few. Sometimes, despite the meds, the Jenga tower would collapse, and she'd be buried, trapped underneath debilitating depression and unable to move, literally. Sometimes she would abandon the tower because the side effects would become untenable, and she would lapse back into the unmedicated cycle of highs and lows.

She described all of her experiences in great detail, and I truly can't imagine having to live like she has to. My heart uselessly and ineffectively goes out to her. What can I do but feel a limited amount of empathy for her? I can't do anything except for that, and my anonymous empathy does her no good at all.

There's one part of her experience that I can imagine, though. The debilitating, unable to move part. I feel like that pretty often when I'm waking up and confronted with the thought of the imminent day... the unavoidable awake period that must occur when sleep has absolutely been exhausted. I get that a couple of times a week, mostly on my days off. I'll find myself waking from an uncomfortable dream with my kidneys screaming in pain, forcing into me the total discomfort which forbids me from continuing to lie prone. I have to get up, absolutely... but the thought of getting up, and the action of moving myself into an upright position, elicits just the awfullest mental anguish. It's a hellish limbo, that period of time between 'becoming conscious' and 'completely uponabandoning the the sleepish un-time of being stretched out on that torturous, dreaming rack'. It's torture, both ways, but I'd rather experience that torture in dream-land.

So then, what's my condition? Something is wrong. This isn't normal, I'm pretty sure, the way I experience life from day to day. It's hell, a continuous hell. It's a conscious hell too. It's a self-aware hell. It's a hell that I can expect to some degree, every day. What is this condition? What is this hell-sick that I'm afflicted with? Is it curable? What the F is this kidney pain that I have which, apart from insomnia, and on top of it, prevents me from experiencing more than six hours of lying prone and at rest at a time? Why is this torture visited upon me? It's a torture of every day normality, meaning that every day is normally torturous. This every-day-ness of torture makes me think incessantly of suicide. I'm not suicidal by nature, you know. I want to live. But this thing... this knowledge, of the inevitable future of hell, of the knowing that every day is going to, maybe be horrible, to a certain degree, just makes me think about putting a permanent stop to this bullshit.

I like finding funny though. I like expressing funny. I like seeing funny and communicating funny. I like everything that's funny. I like morbid funny. I like offensive funny. I like cute funny. I like innocent funny. I like funny, in all its incarnations. What I've read though, here and there, is that an incessant amount of funny is a signal of extreme unhappiness. Extreme despair. That too much funny in your spirit can be fatal.

I don't wanna die. I get a big kick out of things that come with being alive... not just the funny. Lots of things. Beautiful things. Amazing things. Unknowable things. I don't wanna miss those. I'm not suicidal, I'm really not... but I have this cute little monster that showed up on my doorstep when I was born, and now it's a pet that just needs feeding, all the time, and it's eating me alive, and man, it hurts, getting eaten alive. Hurts. Unbelievable hurts... hurts like, you'd do anything to stop the hurt.

That's all. I feel really sorry for the girl with the bipolar.

Sunday, January 22, 2017

president Trump prime time cartoon stupid ass bullshit America will be retarded great again words like pundit and inauguration and politics and pundit geez isn't that a stupid sounding word pundit hashtag what are we fuckin stupid

What's with all the 'used to be, once was, will be again - great' bullshit that I keep seeing everybody posting about America? Is everybody stupid? Are we in past tense mourning for a possible future present tense? What the hell, y'all? Am I the only one who sees down to the retarded bones of this CRAP? What kind of hysterical mob mentality is this? Yeesh! It makes me wanna slap something.

Can everybody just stop for a sec and rescue your underwear? Just because America is tarded and immature and insane on a regular basis don't mean it ever stopped being great. Come on, y'all! So the president is a real live cartoon, syndicated, and guaranteed for four seasons. That doesn't mean that the whole country just automatically goes down with the captain of the ship! There's literally SHITLOADS of things that have zero to do with stupid ass politics that make America great. I ain't gonna list them, because you should already know, for Pete's sake.

Everybody gets all caught up in stupid ass politics, like politics is something you should use for setting a bona-fide standard by. Doesn't anybody else get it, that a great big fat greasy pile of politics is simply ugly, ugly entertainment for your R-complex? Politics is an insidious device with one purpose - hitting the Mob Button that's buried deep down in your primitive consciousness, where it's easy to manipulate.

What's my proof for this, somebody might ask? My proof is all this bullshit that people keep saying about making America 'great again', as if America was a beloved baseball player who got caught shooting up steroids. As if using steroids totally and completely defines the ultimate worth of that baseball player named America. It's stupid media crap, designed to manipulate and warp your insides, and you all should know better.

Everybody needs to tear yourselves away from that stupid ass President Trump cartoon already. Sure, it's funny... but come on. There's WAY better cartoons that you can watch on YouTube. Like Ren & Stimpy.