Well, I am feeling depressed and cranky, so I might as well try to lean in to it and attempt to bleed onto the page some more and purge myself of some toxins.

I sometimes wonder if my parents really cared for me. In both senses of the phrase.

Certainly, they did extremely little to raise me. Like I said yesterday, they didn’t so much raise me as let me stay. They took extremely little interest in my life and when they did pay attention to me and my life, it was clearly as an awkward afterthought.

You know, like a rich person stiffly asking after a servant’s relatives in order to cover an awkward pause in the conversation.

And I knew they didn’t really care and that all they wanted was for me to tell them everything was fine so they could go back to forgetting I existed.

So that’s what I did. Sure, everything is peachy keen. No problems here. Certainly nothing that would take absolutely any time, attention, or resources away from a worthwhile human being like literally anybody but me.

And the worst part is, I was too weak and timid to do anything about it. I was parsecs away from being able to even recognize that I was being treated poorly, or that I had any right to anything better, whether or not I had the courage to demand it.

I just figured it was what I deserved. What else could I do?

And so I was a very nervous kid who was always desperate for whatever little crumbs of attention and validation he could get.

Like I told my therapist yesterday, when you are treated like you don’t (and/or shouldn’t) exist, you are lacking validation on a very basic level and you end up feeling like you are not even real or present.

Looking back, I was a pretty unstable kid. My emotional affect would fluctuate wildly, to the point where I felt so alienated from the world that I would wander the streets in a semi-delirious state where I felt very spaced out and numb.;

That’s the state in which I am most likely to do something crazy because I am so numb that I will do anything if it will wake me up inside and the usual emotional sensations that tell you not to do things just aren’t there

I wonder if that’s how sociopaths feel all the time? If so, eek.

Even a rarefied icy intellectual like myself couldn’t stand such utter coldness.

I don’t think my parents cared for me in the other sense either. In that I don’t think they liked me. I was just an unwanted guest to them.

It’s hard to tell, though, because they paid so little attention to me. I was isolated within my own home and that’s the place I felt the safest.

But I guess I know why I didn’t feel totally safe there either, I guess.

My childhood was so incredibly lonely that it’s a wonder I am as sane as I am.

I suppose the stratospheric IQ helped a little.

After the break : my part in all of this.

---

My part in all of this

First off, a blanket statement : I like blankets.

Now another blanket statement : while I will be discussing my part in my own misfortunes, that doesn’t mean I am blaming myself for them,.

After all, I was a child at the time. I did the best that I could with the rotten hand I was dealt. It was up to the adults in my life to take care of me properly and it is their failure that I was neglected. They all should be ashamed of themselves.

That said, let’s talk about The Wall.

The Wall went up when I was raped at the age of four. When that was happening, I did what millions of other victims of child sexual abuse did and pretended it wasn’t happening and fled deep into my mind to escape.

And I never came back. Not fully. A small but extremely important part of me is still in there, freaking out, ready to bite anyone who tries to touch it.

Anyhow, the thing about having a Wall is that it makes you rather hard to reach. It’s like I was not even on the same plane of existence as other people.

I didn’t know how to relate to them – lack of kindergarten meant I never learned.

And they didn’t know how to relate to me because none of their usual methods worked.

And yet, I didn’t have any obvious cognitive issues. Quite the opposite. Not only was I painfully bright, I had a confidence and a self-possession far beyond my years.

Well you have to self-possessed and autonomous when you’ve been abandoned.

Feral children tend to be self-starters.

Back then, people had barely even heard of autism, let alone Asperger’s Syndrome, and even today society doesn’t really have a category for the socially retarded.

Because that’s what I am. Because the school system did not let me go to kindergarten, I stared grade 1 way behind the other kids in terms of social development and I have stayed way behind ever since.

Because the thing about social development is that you need a peer group in order to grow, but when you are already way behind the others on day 1 of grade 1, you do not get a peer group, and so you stay the same.

Which means that unless someone cares enough to intervene, you are pretty much fucked. Our attitude towards social development in children seems to be that the kids will sort that out for themselves and for the most part, they are right.

It’s just sad little mental deviants like myself that fall through the cracks. And at least when I was a child, the system had absolutely no way of even detecting this problem, let alone addressing it.

So people failed me then abandoned me on that level too.

Then again. what could they have done?

I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.

Pretty sure my parents hated spending money on me. Like, at all.

How else can you explain how sullen and cranky my father was whenever he had to take me shopping for a winter coat or boots or whatnot?

At the time, I just lumped it in with his general crankiness, but looking back, he wasn’t like that when we did the grocery shopping together. He wasn’t like that when I kept him company on the drive to Charlottetown to get new tires. He wasn’t like that those times I went to work with him.

He was only like that when he had to actually spend money on me.

And it’s not like I ever asked him for anything. God forbid. These were the completely predictable minimum expenses for raising a child on PEI.

It’s not my fault I was unplanned. But they never wanted to add me to the budget.They treated every time they had to spend money on me at the store or the dentist or whatever like I was personally attacking their pocketbooks.

And kids pick up on that kind of shit. It goes deep, and becomes part of who they are.

And they made it clear that I was not included in the family. I was not part of anyone’s plans. They just wanted to pretend I had never been born.

And I tried to disappear, thinking it would please them, or at least save me from always feeling like they didn’t want me and could reject me at any second.

Yes, I really did feel that way back then. It’s why I was anxious all the time. I wanted so badly to be loved and accepted and I tried my best to be easy to deal with and fun to be around, but most of the time I felt like I was barely being tolerated.

Most kids get raised by their parents.

Mine just let me stay. And only if I did my best to never remind them of my existence.

It’s not my fault I was a mistake. An oopsie. I didn’t decide to be born.

And I sure as hell did not deserve to be treated like yesterday’s dirt just for being alive at a time that was inconvenient to them.

Decent, human parents would have reacted to my arrival by shrugging and saying “I guess the money gets split four ways instead of three now. We will make do. “

But they never did that. They kept their previous budget and acted like a single penny spent on me was like pulling teeth.

Through their nose.

No wonder I have such a low self-worth despite my gifts.

And then there was their making me do my own clothes shopping from the time I entered school, or thereabouts. So from the age of 7 or 8.

And they didn’t even go out of pocket to do it. They just handed me the money from the monthly baby bonus check and then promptly forget all about me.

Clearly, they could not wait to shuck even the very minimal level of responsibility for their worthless and unwanted child.

And I mean….who the fuck does that? Makes a kid who isn’t even in the double digit age range yet do their own clothes shopping?

It’s monstrous. It’s inhuman. It’s insane.

It’s also neglect.

The ultimate (well, until college) betrayal was when our family dentist. Doctor McLeod, told my parents in no uncertain terms – as in, he made a Kirk level impassioned plea that did not spare the gruesome details – that I needed extensive dental work or I would have serious health complications later in life that might even kill me.

And in response, my dear sweet sainted mother, Snow White herself, who swears I am wanted (now), said “Well we can’t afford that!”

So they just…. didn’t. I never got the dental work done.

Again, who the fuck does that? Who gets told that their kid needs potentially life saving dental work and says “Nah, he’s honestly not worth that much to me. “

Sure it would have been hard to find the money. But normal families would find a way to do it. They would not decide that it was too much of a hassle and an expense to save their child’s life.

Had it been any of my three siblings,they wouldn’t have hesitated. I know…. because I was there when it happened. Whatever they needed to be healthy, they got.

But not me. I got next to nothing, and what I got, I got through gritted teeth. From the day I was born, the message was clear :

You never should have been born.

You never should have existed.

You deserve absolutely nothing.

You are worth a lot less than nothing.

And everyone wishes you would just go away and die so they didn’t ever have to think about me or spend one thin red dime on me ever again.

And you know what?

All they would have had to do is ask.

More after the break.

---

Talked about all that stuff above the line with my therapist today.

It was a pretty good session, mostly because I really got the emotions flowing and so I covered a whole lot of my bad stuff over the space of the session.

Liked I have been saying recently. sometimes I have to get the bad stuff out.

And I think that, now that I am working on letting my emotions guide me through “feeling my way” through my problems, I am more capable than ever of deliberately aiming for whatever will give me the biggest emotional release.

Into the darkness outside of reason I go
Hunting for things I feel but don’t know
Closing my eyes. Endure and persist
My guide is a sense that barely exists
Searching for demons. Hoping to cease them
Knowing they’ll disappear when I finally release them

Or something like that.

Point is, I am actively searching for blocks of unprocessed pain so I can express it and reduce my emotional burden. Melt some of the ice off my heart.

So things might get kind of dark here. Sorry.

But it truly does me a lot of good.

I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.

The good news is that my dizziness has mostly dissipated. I still feel a tiny bit wobbly and I certainly wouldn’t want to try tightrope walking across Niagara Falls right now, but I am past the point where I feel like there’s an ocean in my head.

So no trip to the ER for me,or at least, not yet. Seeing as I don’t know what brought it on n the first place, nor do I know why it went away, I have no idea if it will be back.

But for now, the seas are calm at last.

Thank frickin’ God for that.

---

Finished Assassin’s Creed : Brotherhood a little while ago.

Another great game I loved playing. Didn’t quite liberate all of Rome yet, but it’s still an option. I haven’t uninstalled the game yet.

At the very least, I will finally journey to the southernmost part of Roma and find out what the heck is down there.

I mean, I doubt I’ll find orgies or dragons or dragon orgies, but it will nice to know.

The next game in the series is Assassin’s Creed : Revelations, which completes the Ezio Auditore arc and lets me travel around the world (I think) looking for the techno-mystic magic seals that will save the world from a solar apocalypse,maybe.

I dunno. The over-arching “real world” plot of this whole arc is pretty vague. Which is to be expected when it’s told in these brief snatches of the sci fi plot that occasionally happen in between long stretches of being Ezio.

My friend Maelkoth says Revelations is quite forgettable. Not terrible, but not much to it and very padded.

On the other hand, I like to complete what I start.

Which is a nice way of saying I feel a strong compulsion to finish what I start.

And whilst I have been trying to defy my compulsions lately, this iteration of them seems harmless enough, I suppose.

When it comes to fighting one’s compulsions, you have to pick your battles, I think.

And speaking (sorta) of my tortured mental state….

---

Good day sunshine

Today’s my first full day of taking the pressure off myself and living just for fun.

Fuck ambition, fuck expectations, fuck pressure, fuck beating myself up for wasting my life, fuck all of it.

All that matters now is living a life I enjoy, with no preconceived notions that I am trying to impose upon myself in order to feel like I am in control.

Because I’m not. Obviously. If I was in control, I would be getting the outcomes I want.My life would reflect my desires.

So guess what? I ain’t controlling shit.

I can feel my mind wanting to go back to its previous shape like it has so many times before. I have told myself that there is no “should” and that I need to forgive myself for how I have lived and all that jazz a dozen times now, and all got out of it was feeling better for a while but then slowly backsliding to the same bad head trip we know and loathe all over again.

Well not this time, at least, not yet. I am going to forge a whole new mode of existence for myself, one that fits me better, and that is final.

Oh. And I bought Revelations. It’s downloading right now.

More after the break.

---

Dizziness on the rise

Well this shit’s getting old.

Now I’m roughly as dizzy as I was last night. Once more, when I got up to make dinner around 7:10 pm or so, I felt a surge of dizziness that retracted immediately like a flash flood but that left large puddles of dizziness behind.

So once more, I got an ocean in my head, just sloshing around in there. Fun.

Pretty sure it is some kind of sinus fluid buildup. That is the primary mechanism It only seemed like it might be cerebrovascular in nature because when fluid is splooshing around in your skull, parts of the brain might get a tad squished.

Unlike yesterday, I am pretty sure I can rule out dehydration. I am quite well hydrated at the moment. So I don’t think that is a factor.

I performed the Bertrand Dizziness Test to confirm that I was, in fact, dizzy.

It’s a very simple test. I just stand up and stand still. If that is no problem, I am not dizzy.

But if I constantly have to make adjustment to compensate like I am a drunken sailor trying to cross the deck of a ship in a hurricane, I am definitely dizzy.

Kind of like my test to see if I am shaking : I pick up a piece of paper. If it rattles or makes any other kind of noise like that, I am shaking.

I tested positive for dizziness. Dammit.

---

Doing good while feeling bad

Another challenge to my new, pressure free psychological regime : how to handle myself when I feel very crappy.

I get that feeling bad doesn’t make me bad. Or rather, my great big juggernaut of of a rational mind knows it.

But the thing about feeling crappy is that it makes the world seem hostile because everything you do hurts.

And when you feel like the world hates you right now, it’s hard not to feel like it must have a pretty good reason.

If you are being punished, it is because you are being bad. That is basic human programming. You must be a bad person.

And I know the attitude I want. And I am getting there.

I want to have the attitude that greets feeling shitty with a yawn and a shrug and a muttering of “Oh great, this shit again.” and that’s it.

Like I have said many times before, treat it like bad weather. Sure, it’s unpleasant, but it too shall pass and in the meantime I can wait it out.

But that’s hard to remember when I wake up feeling like crap. I am very emotionally vulnerable when freshly awake and the rational capacity to straighten myself out and keep things straight in my head hasn’t shown up for work yet.

Still, I am getting better at it.

I think the next step is to hate the world, not myself.

That sounds a lot healthier.

I will talk to you nic people again tomorrow.

I’m feeling lazy and self-indulgent today, which means that my mind has gone into Summer Break Mode where all I want to do is have fun.

And this is a Good Thing ™. It means I have relaxed inside at least a little. I managed to un-clench some inner muscles that have been locked in rictus state for a long time, and that means everything can flow a little easier.

And that’s as much of a physical metaphor as you want it to be.

And when I think about it,why be tense? What’s the big deal? My life might not be spectacular but it’s comfortable;. I got friends, I got snacks, I got video games.

And really, what’s the worst that could happen if I just completely abandoned my lofty ambitions and just concentrated on enjoying myself?

Oh no, then I might become completely unproductive and not get anywhere!

Well guess what? I am already there. The way I see it, letting up on myself would yield the exact same result except that I would be way, way more relaxed and happy.

So you know what? That’s it. No more putting pressure on myself. No more putting myself through the wringer for all the things I’m not doing. No more compulsive self-loathing. No more worrying about the days of my life trickling away as life passes me by.

From now on, I am Mister Chill. Whatever,baby. Whatever. I am just here to enjoy myself and anything else is gravy.

It’s not like pressure and self-loathing ever worked anyhow.

---

Pressure holding steady

Still pretty horny. Guess it’s time to post porn.

Thought I would start off with something fairly mild. This could practically be considered mainstream if it wasn’t furry.

Damn do I love me some well stuffed underwear. It’s like it’s calling to me like a Xmas present, making me want to open it and see the goodies inside.

Is it just me, or does he have only one sock on? #relatable! Because of my diabetes making my feet weird, I often walk or squirm out of one sock without knowing.

Bears are so damned hot. Especially :

… that sexiest of bears, Baloo.

And this is one of my favorite poses in all of gay porn : from the back, butt stuck out, balls visible below.

Especially when it’s a deliciously thicc butt like that.

Seriously, I am beginning to drool. I want to do everything to that sweet sweet butt. Rub it. Spread it. See how many licks it takes to get to its creamy center.

But it wouldn’t be a porn post by me unless I posted something extra fucked up.

So here goes :

Kinda doesn’t make sense if you haven’t seen the movie.

But seeing as in the scene in question a bear uses leaves and a coconut to disguise himself as a monkey so he can participate in a racially problematic song and dance number, it doesn’t make a lot of sense if you HAVE seen the movie either.

Not sure which of the two I’m more jealous of, to be honest.

More after the break.

---

Stop spinning the room!

Or something like that.

Thing is, I’m dizzy. Feels like there is a heavy liquid in my skull that sloshes around whenever I move my head, and it throws my balance off as the weight shifts.

Like my head is a ship using water as ballast and the seas are mighty rough.

My being dizzy is not that unusual. It happens when I stand up too fast after having been sitting in the same position for too long. Normally that happens once or twice a week at most.

It’s a known thing.

So when it happened when I got up to take a shower earlier, it didn’t seem like that big a deal. Woops, got up too fast, it will pass in a bit.

But it didn’t. I realized that when I was in the shower. It hadn’t gone away. I was still pretty dizzy. Not as bad as the initial attack but still pretty bad.

I even had to skip washing my hair because once I realized that I was both dizzy and in the shower, I figured I had better get out of there right away.

Showers are very bad places to be dizzy.

Three hours later, and I am still just as dizzy. And so I am started to worry. I have never had the dizziness last this long.

Well, if it doesn’t clear up by tomorrow afternoon, I am going to have to go to the ER.

As symptoms go, this is medium bad. But as a possible indicator for something much worse, it is worrisome indeed.

Now where was I? oh right….PORN!

---

Further selections from my collection

Anthro Adult Simba looking smoking hot with his god-given ass, sexy mane-do, and that looks that says “I can tell you like what you see….”.

Because who wouldn’t? God damn he is hot in this picture. Makes me want to pounce him and see if I can make him purr.

Looks like one of Robin’s men is feeling especially Merry.

Not only is this piece very on-model, but I love Robin’s expression. He looks so happy and eager in a vaguely stoned way.

And his fangs are so cute.

That is seriously ball-meltingly hot. He’s clearly ready for action. I just want to lean in and give that lovely target a kiss. Mwah!

Okay, one last pic before I call it a night.

That’s Launchpad McQuack, both the best and the worst pilot in Duckberg. He’s dumb as a rock but hunky as fuck and as you can see he has other…. assets.

My only concern is whether it is legal to fuck someone that stupid.

I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.

I think I may be waking up.

By which I mean I think I may be forging an emotional connection to a lot of energy that has long lain dormant within me due to the depression.

So far, it’s mostly just made me a little jumpy and nervous.

But that’s only because I haven’t harnessed it yet. The next step, and it’s not a small one. is to raise my activity level accordingly.

And that will likely mean going beyond video games. They just don’t use enough of my energies. Quite soon, I will need a superior outlet.

:Like, for instance, making videos. Again. At last.

Or joining a political subReddit or two and joining the war of words against the forces of evil. Or launch a serious effort to write for Cracked.com via their open submissions.

Or hell, maybe actually apply for jobs in my field.

Stranger things have happened.

But there’s no big rush.I am happy to let things unfold as they please. I will stand back and watch the fires within me grow, secure in the knowledge that the time will come when I will know when it is time to take this shit to the next level.

The key thing to remember is that I don’t have to make this happen. It will happen on its own given enough time.

All I have to do is be ready to take that funky elevator to the next level when it arrives.

The other trick is to try to learn to let the energy buoy my mood. And that involves learning to gently release my barnacle-like grip on the ground and let myself float a little higher despite my terror of disappearing into the sky.

We’re not untying the balloon.

We’re just making the string a lot longer.

The secret is to let the light in. I know I talk a lot about being trapped in the cold and the dark but the truth is that I tend to hide from the light. I lock myself away because the light overstimulates me and that hurts.

But just like with real world light, the pain I feel when emerging from the dark into the light only lasts as long as it takes for my eyes to adjust.

And finally being warm and alive again is worth a little pain.

But it won’t be easy. Growth never is. It is a process of continual rebirth and being born is never an easy thing.

Still, I think I am ready to let this magic beanstalk take me wherever it wants me to go as it grows. There is nothing in my current life that is so precious to me that I would rather stay dead inside rather than leave it behind.

Not even video games. Who knows, maybe I will forswear them for a while. They have served their purpose .I could leave them behind.

More likely, though, is that I will keep playing video games a lot.

I will just add other stuff to my day.

No need to be so drastic and dramatic.

But then again…. maybe there is.

More after the break.

---

Well this is a switch

Usually, I feel crappy when writing the first half of my day’s blogging, and feel much better when writing the second half.

But I obviously felt great earlier today,.and now I feel pretty crappy.

The balance is maintained, I suppose.

---

The son also rises

One very positive sign that my energies are returning is that I have been horny as the proverbial fuck lately.

And that feels good. Being horny is a great source of the kind of id heat that I need. It’s something that makes me feel more awake and alive and connected to the world and excited about life.

Besides, jerking off is fun, gosh darn it.

Sadly, being horny all the time does not change the fact that due to my antidepressants and age, jerking off to completion remains rare and elusive.

Which is frustrating, and not just emotionally.

Right now, the only way my balls could be any bluer is if was a smurf.

That’s what happens when you keep starting the show but never reach the finale. My poor nuts are more backed up than mission critical data.

If I want to actually get off, I need to keep my hands out of the fun zone for awhile. Let the erotic energy build up along with my jizz. Tend that fire with tender loving care.

That’s how it’s been for me for over twenty years. I have to choose my time carefully if I want to actually cum.

Once a week is usually the best I can manage. And normally, that’s no big deal.

But when I am this freaking horny all the time, I can’t possibly keep my dick out of my hand for that long. I’d go crazy.

So I am doomed, it seems, to a lot of incomplete masturbation.

And like I have said before, I try to be cool with that. Accept that I am whacking off for the pleasure it brings and not to empty my nuts,necessarily.

Ejaculation is awesome but not necessary. Be more like a chick. That kind of thing.

But male sexuality doesn’t work like that. Everything about our sexual response cycle is about building to release. When release does not cum (hehe), we get super frustrated.

Still, I can learn to be somewhat more relaxed about it. Try to clear the previous spermless attempts from my mind as well as all thoughts of a goal or aim, and try to just enjoy the good feelings without any of that baggage.

Fair warning, though. If this fire in my taint doesn’t settle down soon, I am probably going to start posting porn here again.

I will try not to make them examples of one of me three fetishes (two of them illegal).

But there is a strong chance of sexy furry boys boinking each other in the near future.

After all, I have to express all this sexual energy somehow.

Of course, I could start writing porn instead….

I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.

Crisis? What crisis?

Don’t worry, this isn’t about Covid or BLM,.

I realized recently that I have been feeling like becoming more productive is this desperately urgent need and my lack of action on that front is a crisis.

`This manifests chiefly as these occasional attacks of a panicky, trapped animal kind of feeling, which I fight off by forcibly calming myself down and telling myself that it’s no big deal and I don’t need to do anything about it just then.

Repeat ad nauseum and whaddaya know, I don’t get anywhere. And that just adds to the panic next time this crisis feeling hits.

It’s easy to talk myself into the panic too. All I have to do is think about how old I am and how bad my health is and how every moment my few precious moments left as a functional human being are dwindling away while I do nothing with my life and my extraordinary talents except play video games all day.

I could go on and on.

But I know how wrong all that is. The panic of which I speak is the very thing I am evading by playing video games all the time. If I could just convince myself that there is no crisis and everything is cool, I could exit my bunker and play in the sun for once.

And I am trying to get there. I keep telling myself that there is nothing I am supposed to be doing. That it’s perfectly fine to just live life for fun and that all that really matters is whether I am enjoying myself.

Life’s a buffet, and most poor bastards are starving to death, and so on.

That’s what I am trying to get at by forgiving myself, too. Just trying to find the exit to this self-persecuting loop I am in.

The poem was a good, if weird, start. There are times when I can think of myself with all the love and compassion and understanding I would show someone else in my position.

Times when I just want to gather my inner child into a big warm nurturing hug and stroke his hair and tell him that everything is going to be all right, that he doesn’t have to wander naked through the frozen night any more, that I am going to take him home and he will never feel lonely or abandoned again.

I want to tell him that he’s a good boy and that he did nothing to deserve all the mistreatment life has handed him and that he is worthwhile and valued and treasured and that all his gifts really do mean something.

That he has a lot to offer the world when he gets better and that he’s just been sick for a long time and some day he will be well again.

I love him so much and he has been cold for so long.

Yeah. I’d really like to tell him all that.

And maybe some day I will.

More after the break.

---

As I face the world

It’s ironic that,intellectually, I am this hardcore pragmatic materialist who takes pride in facing and dealing with the hard truths of life when in the real world,I am terrified of everything and everybody and have to hide in the deep dark bunker at the center of my mind just to be able to function well enough to get out of bed.

Perhaps the two are related.

The truth is, I do not face up to the facts at all. I don’t even face the facts. I live my life with my back turned to the world and my head buried in my hands as I try to squeeze all thoughts of the big bad world behind me out of my mind.

I think that is a big part of what makes it so hard for me to break out of this mould. So many promising sounding exit strategies have the hidden first step, “first, face reality” and that’s the step I can’t take.

I’m just so sore and broken and scared on the inside. Trying to truly face reality brings up such feelings of terror and dread that it feels like if I face the world, I’ll die.

Or at the least, that I will in some way be utterly annihilated.

Dissolve and drown in my own tears.

Be ripped apart by the tidal stresses of a whirlpool.

Be blasted into tiny cinders by a burst of white light brighter than the sun.

Die of foaming screaming madness falling through an endless void.

Get the life crushed out of me when the walls of my bunker collapse and bring thousands of tonnes of rock down on me.

Explode in a shower of angry red sparks when my suppressed rage goes critical.

Leap screaming from my window here on the sixth floor and go splut.

Or maybe just curl up and die.

No matter how you slice it, it feels like facing reality would destroy me.

Sure, intellectually, I know that it wouldn’t. How could it? But that doesn’t change the fact that I feel like it’s true and it’s that feeling which is holding me back.

And no amount of high level logic is going to wish that all away.

The only thing that can save me is healing. And that means facing the reality of my latent emotions and opening myself up to feeling them.

But that, too, feels like it would destroy me. I have sp much of so many emotions to deal with and no capacity to deal with them in a linear, incremental fashion.

Instead, it feels like if I open myself up at all, all this frozen emotion will thaw all at once I and I will be destroyed by the resulting flood.

So I dunno. I don’t know how to navigate this minefield.I don’t know what to do about all this pain and rage and fear that keep getting in my way.

Maybe I need to learn to harness is instead.

I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.

Not really feeling the words right now, but fuck it, time to line up and fire.

---

Sweet dreams are made of this

I don’t consciously remember dreams any more. I haven’t in years. The most I get is tiny scraps that pop into my head when something triggers them, and I get a feeling of deja vu without actually remembering anything

Just the feeling that I dreamed something about it… sometime.

And I’d be lying if I said I didn’t know why.

There’s two reasons : the first is that remembering dreams is a victim of my constant struggle to stay connected to reality. At some point, on the subconscious level, I reacted to a blurring of the lines between the waking world and the dreaming by building an airtight wall between the two that pushed all the fluffy dream stuff out of my mind the moment I woke up.

That’s one reason. Seems plausible. Paints me in a good light. True….ish.

But there’s also the simple fact that due to bad sleep, I just plain don’t dream much. I am not getting nearly enough quality REM sleep and so there is not much dreaming for me to remember.

Sad but true.

I could fix that problem if I went back on the sleeping pill. But then I would have to reckon with the problem of it making it so hard to wake up.

And that makes me so damned mad. That selfsame hard determination to wake up and clear my mind gets very, very frustrated when the drug is making that so much harder, so I unconsciously go to war with the drug and fight it tooth and nail, and that is an extremely bad mental state for me to be in.

I end up waking up angry and stressed out and feeling like a shipwreck survivor that only barely made it to shore.

There has to be some way to get decent sleep without having to fight to be awake.

Maybe there’s some natural remedies that aren’t so fucking harsh.

---

I forgive me

I forgive myself for everything

I forgive myself for being born
For being unwanted and unplanned
For being an inconvenience
And hard to understand

I forgive myself for being different
And more than passing strange
Unearthly like a changeling
Who’s forgotten how to change

I forgive myself for being outcast
And unable to relate
I was born with magic in my eyes
I forgive myself for being raped

I forgive myself for being timid
And hiding deep within
Far too weak and broken
To save myself from anything

I forgive myself for hiding
From the world and from myself
From the damage and the terror
And from everything else

I forgive my inability
To ever fend for myself
The lack of toughness and agility
To ever even ask for help

And I forgive myself for writing poetry
When I had this to talk about
It’s not the format I intended
It’s just the way that it worked out

---

The state of my bowels

You read the title. You know what you’re in for.

Still, I will try to be as delicate as possible.

The dam broke earlier today. I must have been more backed up than rush hour traffic because I had two very large events in the space of an hour.

And I am very, very glad that after the first, I got up,wiped,and flushed before realizing I still had a lot more work to do because otherwise there would have been a very serious issue regarding room in the bowl.

Then, after Performance Number Two (aka the Second Movement), I sort of felt like I had to go yet again, but my stomach was still feeling pretty riled up from the previous events and I didn’t want to risk making it worse, plus…. sigh….

Plus I just didn’t wanna poop again. I was sick of (and from) it. Dumb,I know.

So I put it off, and now I am constipated and even more ill. Bravo. In fact, I had had to wait a long time before I could even think about ordering food.

(Very) patient readers will recall that when output ceases, the body wisely puts an immediate halt on all desire for input.

It’s not pleasant, but it’s smart.

:Luckily the waters from below have sufficiently receded for me to eat now. Phew!

I wouldn’t want to end up with constipation AND low blood sugar!

---

Output over quality

Still slightly weirded out by the fact that I ended up writing doggerel instead of my usual prose, but it fits with my new approach to creativity, which is “the important thing is that it comes out, not how it comes out. “

Meaning I am prioritizing output over quality.

Yeah, I know that sounds bad.

But I realized earlier today that the main reason I haven’t made any more videos is that I was worried about whether they would be good enough.

Would they meet my new, higher standards for production quality? Was I ready to take on the task of becoming a YouTuber? Did I think I was GOOD ENOUGH?

But you know what? That’s not how I operate. I don’t perfect things. I am not capable of it. When I try to hold on to things, i end up deleting them or hating them and sticking them in some forgotten subdirectory and trying my best to forget it happened.

I am not saying I will never get there. What I am saying is that I can’t afford to stifle my creative expression waiting for that to happen.

I would rather do like I did before, namely put out semi-decent but decidedly amateurish videos on a regular basis, each one a little better than the last.

Not sure I am ready to go back to making videos daily.

But I will make them regularly.

Perfectionism is my enemy. It can paralyze me without even trying.

I will stick with “good enough for now, I guess”-ism for the time being.

I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.

Played a whole bunch more Assassin’s Creed : Brotherhood.

Man, is the game fun. There’s tons of different kinds of quests, plus neighborhoods to liberate, renovate, and appreciate.

I am having so much fun that I haven’t gone anywhere near the main plotline in ages.

I mean, I am sure I will get back to it soon. There’s only so much dicking around I can do before I get bored and want to get back to the plot.

Plus, I am out of investment cash. So there’s that.

But I just spent an hour just roaming the Centro district of Rome just reopening businesses like a financial Johnny Appleseed, and had a great time doing it.

Best part is that each business adds to my income, so they pay for themselves eventually and after that, it’s pure profit.

Which I will use to buy more businesses.

I swear, I am going to fucking own Rome.

Take that, you Borgia bastards!

---

Still trying to figure out how to get out of this lousy cage of mine.

Had therapy yesterday. Ended up being a good session because instead of being my usual reasonable (to a fault and beyond) self, I ended up talking about how trapped and hopeless I felt and how hard it was for me to do certain things and how much pain and fear and rage I have blocking me from getting out of myself and enjoying life.

Speaking of which, I realized that I never quite got my point across when I talked about the joy of suffering before.

I talked about how I think we cause ourselves more pain while trying to avoid pain than the pain we are avoiding and how it really comes down to the fear of the pain.

And I talked about how I wished I could just radiate my pain out into space.

But what I meant to talk about was how to get myself to stop dodging the pain. How to just lay there and suffer till I felt better, more or less.

It’s too complicated to solve logically. There are far too many variables, many of them hidden. By this point in my life, I have so many overlapping layers of aversion and evasion that a whole new branch of calculus would have to be invented just to describe the resulting Venn diagram.

So that leaves feeling my way towards release. I am getting more comfortable with letting my emotions guide me.

After all, I have always been highly intuitive, and that basically means being led by your emotions. It’s just that I have always kept my intuition tightly harnessed to my rationality before now, and that is an extremely powerful combination and a lot of my wizardly powers stem directly from it.

But it doesn’t always have to be that way, I can leave reason behind and follow my intuition directly. I can seek answers only emotions can bring me.

It’s still a little scary and not exactly easy, but I can do it.

I got this.

Let’s go exploring.

More after the break.

---

Exploration and me

Cor, what a segue.

Friends of this blog know that I have never been much of an explorer. Even in my preschool years, I didn’t have a strong urge to explore, especially outdoors.

And after I got raped by a stranger when I was 4, I was even more timid, fragile, and shy, and so what exploratory urge I had was severely suppressed.

I remember occasionally wandering the neighborhood aimlessly in the summer, looking for someone or some people I could be around and not be lonely without consciously realizing I was looking for anything or even that I was lonely.

To recognize one’s own loneliness, you need to have something to contrast it to.If you are always lonely, you become numb to it.

I remember when I first organized the first meeting of the local furry community I founded. We went to a restaurant then to the el cheapo movie theater, and after the movie we were standing outside the theater, just chilling.

And it was at that moment that I realized just how incredibly lonely I had been because now that said loneliness had been relieved, I had something to compare it to.

Once I was in school, the bullying finished the job of killing my urge to explore and established the pattern of going straight to and straight home from school like I was the product of a strict religious background of some time.

All my urge to explore turned inward. It might have looked like I was just sitting there staring at the wall, but in my mind, I was hard at work thinking about stuff.

This was the skill I developed in order to deal with the stultifying boredom of the classroom. Most of the time in school I was bored out of my gourd, and so I escaped into my own mind and became a very thoughtful kid.

Like I needed another reason to withdraw. But I had no choice. It was the only escape allowed to me.

I mean, most teachers wouldn’t even let me read.

Can you imagine that? Telling a child to stop reading.

Looking back, I think i got into conflicts with some teachers because they knew they did not control me. I didn’t fear them or respect their authority or feel awed by them.

Perhaps that’s because I was usually smarter than them,

I didn’t fear them, and yet I was mostly a well behaved kid not because I felt I had tobe but because I chose to be.

And some teachers just could not handle that.

(I’m looking at YOU, Mrs.Mcnally, you Nana Mousskouri lookin BITCH. )

I didn’t mean to constantly defy authority even when I wasn’t even doing anything. I didn’t know I was setting myself apart from the other kids by reserving and retaining my right to withdraw cooperation at any moment. I had no idea that there was any other way to be other than how I was.

I mean, I guess I knew on some level that other kids were scared of adults and did whatever they were told without question, but I didn’t know why.

I have always gone my own way not out of sheer rugged individualism but because I wouldn’t have known where to find other people’s ways even if I wanted to.

And true, I don’t want to. That might seem antisocial to some and I suppose it is, but it’s not something I do on purpose.

I’m just being me.

Weird, alien, unnaturally calm and mature me.

It’s all I know how to be.

I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.

Just ordered me some KFC.

Checked out a couple of other places on DoorDash, but they both wanted to charge me more than $5 for delivery.

Um, yeah, fuck that.

So I said fuck adventure and got good ol’ KFC.

---

Finished Assassin’s Creed 2.

Loved the heck out of the game. Not quite as good as Assassin’s Creed Unity, but Unity is the fifth game in the series, so it’s like, three games more advanced.

Plus I can’t imagine any setting that would appeal to me more than Revolution Era Paris. It was glorious to soak myself in French culture for a while, even if it was only in a video game and I was killing a lot of people the whole time.

That was admittedly never part of my original time travel fantasy.

Of course, technically, I should hate Paris like my ancestors from the south of France did, because Paris was the headquarters for all those smug elitist bastards who were squeezing the simple honest farmers and fishermen of the south for every lou they could while looking down their noses at people who worked for a living,

But that was hundreds of years ago, before we said “fuck Europe and their wars, we’re coming to the New World to fish and farm in peace!”.

Now we Acadians hate Ottawa, like all good Canadians.

---

Anyhow, back to Assassin’s Creed.

The ending for Assassin’s Creed 2 was pretty good except for one tiny detail that drove me freaking nuts.

You finally get to the point where the main villain, Rodrigo Borgia, is completely at your mercy…. and you let the fucker live.

WHAT? I killed a thousand dudes to get this far, and now I suddenly decide revenge solves nothing? What kind of weakass bullshit is this?

Hell, forget revenge for having my father and two brothers (including the sweet, sickly, innocent Petruccio – basically an Italian TinyTim), the guy amply demonstrates that he is super evil,.extremely ruthless,and very very dangerous.

Letting him live is guaranteed to lead to people dying.So kill the bastard!

It’s like Batman letting the Joker live…. if Batman killed other criminals all the time.

So it’s more like the Punisher letting the Joker live.

Or Rambo. Or hell, Freddy Krueger.

It’s like the ending of Pokemon The First Movie, where Pokemon is fighting Pokemon to save the freaking world, then Ass Ketchup gives this big speech about how fighting is wrong.

Bitch, you capture these creatures against their will then force them to fight each other for fun. It’s kind of what the whole series is about.

But now, when the fate of the entire fucking world is on the line, fighting is wrong.

In both cases, this sudden attack of conscience comes out of nowhere and seems both tacked on and unmotivated.

But in Assassin’s Creed 2, murder is what I do.

It’s right there in the title.

Kill that asshole!

---

Aaaanyhow, finished the game, reveled in the glow of well earned victory, then bought the next game in the series, Assassin’s Creed Brotherhood.

And yes, it’s kind of weird that they gave up on numbers on only the third game.

What’s even weirder is that they eventually produced an Assassin’s Creed 3. But made a bunch of games in between.

Don’t ask me.I don’t know either.

And once more, I was very impressed with how the game picked up at the exact moment the previous game ended.

Didn’t skip over a single second.

That’s the sort of thing you can do when you have this whole science fiction overplot where you are Desmond Miles, some dude in a VR machine that lets him explore the past via the memories of his ancestors encoded in his DNA.

Don’t ask me about that one either. It’s one of those classic science fiction ideas that follows science to a certain point then takes a quantum leap into crazytown.

I mean, I suppose that could be what is in our non-coding DNA, aka “junk DNA”.

But I can’t imagine how it got there or why.

---

Anyhow, in Assassin’s Creek Brotherhood, you are still Desmond Miles and you still spend most of your time as your ancestor Ezio Auditore, same as the previous game.

Which is cool. I enjoyed being Ezio. But part of me is disappointed that I didn’t get to become a different ancestor.

After all, this is the first time I have played the same ancestor twice.

And like I said, you start at the exact moment where you left off in the previous game, so you have all your previous weapons and armor and a nice fat wad of cash to boot.

And you even get your beloved villa back.;It was your HQ for the previous game, and now you return triumphant. The peasants welcome you and laud you, everything is bright and beautiful and Tuscan, and you can finally retire from your life of murder and danger and be a minor country lord with your Uncle Mario.

So obviously that had to end. Including, sadly, Uncle Mario.

Yes, they killed off Mario. And I saw it coming, too. Or rather, felt it. The minute the enemy attacked, my finely developed sense of story told me they were about to kill off Uncle Mario, and I was right.

He was the character with the biggest emotional connection to Ezio, and we were going to need vengeance motive, so he had to go.

But even worse than that was seeing my beloved villa blown to bits by cannon. I had grown quite attached to the place by then, and it hurt to see it die.

But now I am in Rome, and have the possibility of buying entire neighborhoods and thereby tearing one of the greatest cities of all time away from Borgia control.

And also, incidentally, returning Rome to peace, justice, and the rule of law.

Sounds like my idea of fun. Toppling tyranny via murder and real estate.

To be honest, I am not sure which half of that I like more.

I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.

Last Sunday, I bought myself some generic veggie chips.

They are, as the name implies, chips made of vegetables. They take slices of various vegetables and freeze-dry them to make them into crispy crunchy chips.

Then they add a modest amount of good old sel de mer (sea salt) and bingo, you have a tasty and nutritious snack.

And I mean that. They are pretty dang good. My only problems are that :

1. They are kinda dry. No surprise there.
2. They are not quite the carb free paradise I hoped for, because two of the chip types are yam based and yams are potatoes and therefore carbs.
3. There’s so many interesting flavours that a handful of them can be a tad overwhelming. That’s a good problem to have.

Analysis : so far so good. Further bulletins as events warrant.

---

Breaking the chain

Been going around in circles about how to become the person I want to be in a happy, joyful, positive way instead of my only choices being do nothing and keep sleepwalking my life aware or apply insane amounts of pressure on myself and end up almost immediately collapsing and going back to sleep to escape it.

So I suppose it’s really just the one option : do jack shit except play video games while my life ticks away and I get sicker and sicker until one day I just plain keel over and die at this here computer of mine.

I don’t want that to happen. I want to be healthy and happy and strong. I want to still be around for all the people I love. I want to keep having fun. I want to still be here to see what wonders the future will bring.

I want more life, fuckers.

But wanting something and having what it takes to get it are not the same thing. I keep talking about keeling over and other such harshness because I am trying to galvanize myself into having enough motivation to look after myself properly.

So far, it hasn’t worked. Not really. When I tell these things to myself, I can feel a faint and distant response within me as some rather important bit of survival machinery tries to activate and motivate me, but for the most part, I remain immobilized.

I am paralyzed on the inside. I tell my soul to do things but nothing happens. I feel like I am wandering a frozen labyrinth. Technically, I am looking for a way out, but deep down I know I am really just staying in motion because stopping hurts and wandering keeps my blood pumping and keeps me warm.

And underneath it all is this deep and terrible suffering. A pain that fills all the spaces where healthy thought should go and that keeps me turning away from life because actual life is far too bright and hot and painful for me.

And I wish I could just get the suffering over with.Lean in to it and feel horrible for a while and have a good long cry and finally be done with it all.

The extremely nerdy image in my mind is of some massive array of heat sinks being rotated out of the inside a space station to radiate all that heat (pain) into space.

It’s an appealing image. That would get the job done pretty quickly.

And who knows. Maybe it really is that simple if I let to be.

More after the break.

---

I growl at the sky
Give the middle finger to passing clouds
Bark like a madman at ticking clocks, flowing rivers, and anything else that just goes on and on forever

Out of the savage depths of my tortured psyche crawls a vile creature born of long suppressed hate, long denied lust, long simmering rage, and toxins so pure and deadly that they can only be the product of a soul without kidneys

And it just wants to shit and piss and suck and fuck and claw and scratch and smash and scream and destroy

But most of all, it wants to FEED
It wants to crush and chew and cram the whole sucking world into that gaping hole at its center so that, even if only for a moment, it can feel sated and whole

And it hates everything because everything hurts
Every form of stimulation brings pain
The entire universe has betrayed it
Left it all alone in this cold hard world
a baby bird who never recovered from being shoved out of the nest
And told to fly
But crashed instead

So now it is a creature of oozing cocks, dripping cunts, drooling mouths, twitching anuses, crazy eyes, clawing hands, and extremely full bladders and bowels that just want to void and vent through all those cunts, cocks, and assholes at full blast

It wants to fuck and be fucked
Suck and be suck
Lick and be licked

And it wants to do it to every man, woman, child, and mammal in the world
It wants to have its way with every cock, cunt and asshole in the world

But most of all, it wants OUT

The monster I created through retreating into the cerebral
The Mister Hyde spawned by my denial of the beast within
My hissing hydra of hardened hate
The full moon howling screeching madman who I keep locked away in the deepest darkest basement of my soul

Wants to break free and run loose in the world to get its rocks off in all the ways it has dreamed off in its most tormented and orgasmic nightmares

It’s in no mood to be gentle
And it doesn’t give a fuck about consent
It just wants to take, take, take all the things it craves
Until one day it is finally done
And go back to being human again

---

Well that happened.

More of my getting the bad stuff out. I have a severely repressed and underfed id and if I am going to be sane one day, I need to find ways to remedy the imbalance and feed and pet and sooth the poor thing until it can be the good doggie I know it has always been deep down.

The lust and rage particularly need non life ruining outlets

Because I am not kidding when I say the beast wants out.

And i worry that if I don’t find release soon, I will end up doing something crazy when my id finally says “enough” and takes over.

And I sure as fuck don’t want that.

I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.