Mood’s pretty low right now.

I can feel the cold arctic winds blowing through my heart. I feel fragile and abandoned and lost. That Midnight Tundra of mime is restless and looking for a fight, and I feel like fixing the world with a stare of the calm yet burning intensity of a microwave laser.

Like this guy.

What an attractive fantasy for the timid yet hateful.

Mostly I feel alienated. Even more cut off from my fellow humans than usual. At times like these I can really feel all those light years of intergalactic void that lie between me and more or less every other human being on Earth.

Evem my good friends and roommates are barely within the same solar system as me, and they’re the people I am closest to in this frigid and lawless universe.,

I don’t want to be so very distant from everyone else. I want to be close enough to feel the warmth and light of mutual humanity. For as long as I can remember, I have been starving for human warmth and connection with others.

But instead there has been this seemingly insurmountable gulf between me and them. It started with the large gap between me and my fellow elementary school students caused by both my naturally high IQ and my lack of having been through kindergarten.

And it only got wider and wider from then on. Like I’ve said before, it’s a wonder that I did not end up on the autism spectrum somewhere.

Assuming I didn’t. Jury’s still out on that as far as I am concerned. Whatever I have might not fully qualify as autism but it bears a striking resemblance to it.

I know one thing : I sure as fuck ain’t healthy, and I never have been.

Not since starting school. anyhow. Or before that, the rape. I dimly recall being a happy and precocious child with an easy natural charm.

I probably could recall it better if I really tried, but it’s just too painful. I still mourn that happy little kid, and wonder what would have happened to him if a stranger’s cock hadn’t torn a hole in his soul from which he still bleeds.

No wonder I got bullied. Every predator knows you go after the wounded ones first.

More after the break.

Stop the room!

..I want to get off.

Then again, don’t we all?

For the most part, my “dizziness on rising” problem is gone. That doctor at the hospital who cut all of the dosages of my blood pressure medicines in half solved that for me.

Of course, it was only after that happened that each of these medications had a big MAY CAUSE DIZZINESS sticker on the bottle.

Annoyed grunt! Oh well, that’s life in this here incarnation. I am brilliant but also clueless, like all the head in the clouds type dreamer types like myself.

I’m good at a dazzling array of things, but life ain’t one of them.

This is why I need reality assistance so often.

Anyhow, mostly the dizziness is gone, but it does come back now and then and right now I am experiencing one of those attacks.

I am very dizzy. I’ve got that underwater feeling again, like I am trying to walk to Japan along the sea floor of the Pacific.

Every little motion causes the vat of goo that is apparenly my brain now to slosh around and make me both dizzy and a touch nauseous.

Which is a rotten combo, and yet not uncommon..

I have two theories as to why I keep getting these spells.

The first is that my sinuses are so backed up that it’s fucking with my inner ear and disrupting my equilibrium resulting in my being quite dizzy.

The other is that dehydration is the culprit. I figured out that because I don’t spend nearly as much time as I used to sitting at the computer with a glass of water always close at hand, my water intake has plunged drastically as compared to before my trip to the hospital. Ergo dehydration.

These theories are not mutually exclusive.

It could be both.

Either way, it’s not just annoying, it’s dangerous. I could easily fall and hurt myself when I am in this state where I barely know which way is up.

Hopefully I will soon have an ergonomic cushion that will take care of the seating issue of my poor wounded glutes, and thus allow me to spend more time at the computer playing PC games (!!!) again and hence resume proper hydration levels.

As for the inner ear angle, I will want to be more vigilant about keeping my nose and ears free of congestion.

If I do both those things and still get dizzy spells, it’s back to the doc for me.

I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.

I am not out of jam.

I have about a tablespoon or so left.

But I might as well be out of jam because there is no way I am going to touch that last little bit of jam before I get more this Sunday.

Why? Because I hate running out of things. And as long as that tablespoon of jam is there, I have not, technically, run out of jam.

Even though, functionally speaking, I have.

But that’s not important. What’s important is that I don’t have to face that terrible moment when I use up the last of something and feel that pang of sadness and loss that comes with knowing I have none of it left and won’t have any till I can buy more.

Yeah that’s weird. Shut up.

It’s an example of something I learned about while reading up on hoarding : “oversensitivity to loss”. That’s what causes those negative feelings.

And that’s what causes us Taurus type people to be such careful users of resources. We want to put off that awful moment of running out for as long as we can.

In fact, ideally. we shepherd our resources so well that we get more of the resource before we even have a chance to run out.

It’s not hard to see how this can lead to hoarding. All it takes for this to cross into the realm of madness is for you to start dreading that loss so much that you start buying more of things before being anywhere near to running out of it.

“I’ll get it ‘just in case'”, you tell yourself. In case of what? Armageddon?

It’s never gone that far for me but that’s largely been because I can’t afford to stock up on things that far in advance.

But it’s also because I know that I could fall into that trap all too easily, so I ruthlessly monitor myself for signs of it taking root.

I’m crazy in enough ways already, thank you.

More after the break.

My own shadow

I’ve got to stop living in my shadow.

Sure, it makes me feel safe. Like nobody can penetrate my cloak of darkness and nobody can GET me.

Not that anyone even wants me. But tell that to the demons in my head.

Today was Therapy Thursday. I talked about how my only way out of this little coffin trap of a life is to learn to stand up to and endure my anxiety.

That’s the main enforcement mechanism for my depression. I am girt round with icy daggers of soul-rending anxiety and, not coincidentally, the thing it’s most interested in preventing is any kind of growth or healing that might threaten its grip on me.

Thus my depression has become an all-encompassing sarcophagus that keeps me almost completely isolated from life and reality and personal fulfillment.

So instead, I just play video games all day like I am back in the hospital killing time and waiting for the next test or meal or whatnot.

I definitely feel like I am waiting for something. But it’s like those bus stops they put up outside old folks’ homes so that if a patient wanders off, they’ll be easy to find because they will be at the ersatz bus stop waiting for a nonexistent bus.

Very sad, I know.

I am like one of those poor demented souls. Only instead of a bus stop, it’s more like a waiting room. Like I am waiting for someone to pop into the room and call my name.

But it’s not like I think that’s going to happen.

It’s just that waiting is all I know how to do.

My soul has so many missing parts it’s basically up on blocks.

So many of the things I was supposed to get out of my childhood never happened. Entire developmental stages were left to rot on the vine and poison my spirit.

And all because I never followed my instincts.

Like my late father used to say, I was (and am) so smart I’m stupid.

No wonder I have had such a hard time resurrecting myself so I can return to the land of the living and resume my long aborted life path.

I was barely alive in the first place.

I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.

A God that isn’t there, or a God that doesn’t care?

I would think that for a believer in crisis, it would be vastly preferable to think God is a myth we invented a long time ago to make us feel better about being alone in the universe than to think there is a real, all knowing, all powerful, infinitely compassionate God out there who could totally have kept your Gramma from dying of cancer but just couldn’t be bothered.

Because those are the only two options. When your God is omnipotent, there is no question of whether or not He CAN do something, and that leaves whether or not He WANTS to do it.

In fact, for an infinitely powerful God, every possible action, from removing Gramma’s cancer to reshaping the entire Universe in the blink of an Eye, is infinitely easy.

How difficult something is must be measured in relation to one’s capacities, after all.

Thus we come upon the Problem of Evil, which is the most potentially devastating challenge to monotheistic faiths ever.

It is usually/ stated thusly : If God is all powerful and infinitely Good, why is there still evil in the world?

To me, this is a design flaw in monotheism itself. In fact, one might say that monotheism contained the seeds of its own destruction.

In hindsight, they would have been better off saying their God is just very, very powerful but not omnipotent per se.

But then someone else might come along who says their God is even more powerful and we can’t have THAT.

Perhaps just say He is more powerful than any other God and leave it at that.

More after the break.

You’re my type

Guess what? I’m typing again!

Yes, my new keyboard arrived – a Logitech K650 – and I am using it to type these words, these very words that I am typing right now.

And it feels good…. more or less.

It’s a new keyboard ergo it will take me some time to break it in and get used to how it feels as I type.

This has been true for every new keyboard I have ever bought. So I know that it’s only temporary and that fairly soon, it will pass.

Till then, I just need to put my head down and bulldoze ahead like the ox I am.

To be honest, it just feels weird actually typing after three months or more of click-typinhg. I keep getting the urge to grab the mouse when I want to type.

Presumably that will go away soon too.

One fun thing is that compared to goddamned click-typing I feel like I am typing REALLY REALLY FAST.

And I am!

Which means that I will be shifting back to 1K words a day sometime quite soon., This is Wednesday, so by Friday or maybe Saturday at the latest.

Yes, gentle reader, you will soon have to read twice as much, Sorry about that.

But it really does feel great to be typing my words like a writer again.

Nobody ever wrote a story aboput a noble and driven writer whose merciless muse drives them to click long into the night.

More after the break.

That’s how this life of mine feels most of the time.

Like I am drowning in a pool of unwashed emotions. A stale and stagnant cesspool, steaming and slimy and slick, choking on its own endlessly recirculating waters that are now so impossibly filthy that there is no object in the universe they could wash clean.

And as for myself, where do you think all that filth came from? It might be contaminated but I am the contaminant. Filth prime, if you will.

And why is everything so damn dirty? Because the system is sealed. Clean water can’t get in, Dirty water can’t can’t get out. All that can happen is that the same old dirty dishwater keeps spinning round and round, accumulating my shed waste and stewing my flesh in my own toxicity.

And as for my all powerful brain, it pickled itself in its own brine a long, long time ago.

It’s still alive there in its dusty old jar. And just as dazzlingly brilliant as ever. Why just look at those chromatic tongues of electricity arcing across its surface!

Too bad it can’t make a signal strong enough for anyone to hear.

Damned busted antenna.

And in the middle of it all lies me, the real Michael John Bertrand, drowning slowly and losing my grip on reality and sanity and life.

And oh, how badly a part of me wants to just let the slender tether slip from my cold-numbed fingers so I can slip beneath the surface and finally finish drowning already.

But so far I’ve been far too scared of dying to do that. So far.

Who knows, maybe I’ll just go crazy instead.

More after the break.

She does cabinetry by instinct – she’s counter intuitive.

I know this is sacrilegious, but if I had a llama , I`d name it Dalai.

Humanism is love.

Love for your fellow human beings. Not for what they can do for you. Not for what they can give to you. Not for how they make you feel.

But for being human, just like you. The true humanist sees beneath the social illusion and thus visits the hearts and mind of others and sees that beneath our social masks and all the other superficial details we hold so dear we are all the same.

We’re all just drunken monkeys stumbling through the dark and fumbling around looking for a way out… or maybe just the light switch.

We’re all people with jobs trying to cope. Nobody has all the answers. Not the Pope ot the Dalai Lama or even Beyoncé. When you look beyond your social programming, you see that everyone is coping just about as well as you are, and that the ones who seem to have it all figured out are simply those more skilled at social mimicry than you.

And you have to ask, why do they feel the need to seem so perfect?

Once you truly see and accept that the humanity in me is the same as the humanity in you and in everyone else, you will find that many of the illusions that drive us apart and force us into conflict with one another simply melt away.

You now understand that the unity of humanity – one tribe, one voice, one spirit – is not some distant, lofty ideal but the living truth of human existence, and it is only our worthless illusions that keep us from seeing and feeling this universal truth.

So open your hearts, brothers and sisters, and let the sun shine in.

I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow .

I am definitely sick.

Earlier today, when I was doing the Wound Care thang, there was some doubt. I knew that I felt “off” and that a few disturbing issues, like sudden attacks of dizziness and an overall heaviness like I was wearing soaking wet clothing, and you can bet I was keeping a close eye on the situation, but there was nothing definitive.

That sentence is a bloody trainwreck.

But then I took a little nap, and when I woke up I felt full on horrible, and that kinda removed all doubt.

I’m sick as the mysteriously proverbial dog. And it sucks.

So let’s take an inventory of symptoms, shall we?

Dizziness for sure. My head feels waterlogged. Every little movement of my head makes the world lurch around like a drunken sailor.

Unsurprisingly this comes with some nausea, or seasickness really.

Thank Whoever I still have enough appetite to eat lunch and onboard some much needed nutrition to help me fight this goddamned thing.

I also have a burning ache that goes all through my eustachian tubes, from my ears to my mouth and down my throat.

Hopefully my naproxen will help with that.

I’ve also been peeing a lot.

Maybe my body is trying to get rid of something, I dunno.

But I can’t go two hours without having to empty a very full bladder. And it’s becoming quite annoying, as well as making it hard for me to sleep.

Makes me ponder adopting a catheter based lifestyle.

What else… a touch of runny nose, disorientation, a feverish feeing.

Probably a lot of other things I am not even aware of yet.

So yup. I’m a sickie.

And as such, I’mma gonna go lay down now.

More after the break.

Not so bad

Feeling somewhat better after a long nap.

Better in that I am in a lot less pain. I am still pretty messed up. I am very lightheaded and still kind of dizzy, and my Eustachian tubes still burn, but the malaise and feeling of heaviness have abated somewhat.

Go, immune system, go!

One reason I am feeling so disoriented is that I fell asleep when it was day and woke up after night fell.

That always screws me up. My body really doesn’t like that. It’s supposed to be the other way around. Sleeping through sunset ia unnatural.

Yeah welcome to my world. Very little of what I do is natural.

Like I said, I seem to have traded dizziness for lightheadedness. It’s an uptrade. I definitely prefer this state to how I felt earlier.

And that’s what you’re supposed to do when you’re sick, right? Get plenty of rest?

The problem with that is that it’s hard to be more “restful” than my normal life without slipping into a coma.

What am I supposed to do? Lie in bed playing video games HARDER?

And I know I’d be a lot healthier if I moved around more.

But I am too sick to do so.

It’s s hell of a catch, that Catch-22.

I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.

Feeling rather icky at the moment. Hopefully some nourishment and hydration will fix it.

Specifically, my head hurts and my joints ache and I feel a tad woozy. Like I just got off a carnival ride on a hot summer day and I am dizzy and nauseous and more than a wee bit dehydrated, and it’s time to go inside Cahill Center and use the water fountain outside the gate between the two arenas.

That may or may not apply to your childhood, however.

In keyboard news, I oopsed again

It was supposed to arrive yesterday, but I got an email telling me there was a problem with my payment.

Clicked on it and found out that I had messed up when I inputted the digits for my latest credit card and therefore the charge didn’t go through.

Annoyed grunt! So I had to re-input the info and now I won’t get it till Wednesday.

Grr. I get so sick of dealing with my own bullshit sometimes.

I need a hyper competent assistant who is great at keeping me on track and organized and hopefully cut down on the frequency of my fuckups.

Maybe even, God willing and the crick don’t rise, make me seem like a coherent and competent adult instead of the stumbling fool I really am.

This is what happens when you overspecialize in the cerebral. You end up being a brilliant qnd amazing doofus.

We hothouse flowers need our gardeners.

I am still looking for mine.

More after the break.

This little life of mine

I’m gonna let it shine.

Sooner or later, Eventually. Probably. Hopefully.

It’s not like my current life is terrible. It’s not. I am safe and warm and comfortable. I have food, shelter, water, and a modest array of creature comforts.

Plus, of course, an endless number of ways to enter myself thanks to the infinite bouquet of boons that is the internet.

No, this is not a terrible life. But neither is the life of a well kept zoo animal.

And that’s what I feel like. I have everything I need except freedom. There is a big bright and beautiful world out there absolutely brimming with the kinds of experiences and other inputs that I so desperately need in order to grow and mature into a real and substantial adult type person at long last.

Instead of the baby bird with a broken wing from when he failed to fly when booted out of the nest long that I am now.

I think that made sense.

It’s just not good enough. I should have shed my metaphorical skin a dozen times by now. Instead, all my growth remains bundled up inside me and the pressure that creates is enough to crush the very soul out of me.

And I wish I could just my soul burst into rowdy bloom like an arctic weed, colors everywhere, and finally stand up tall and proud and finally breath free.

But it’s not that east. Nothing ever is.

So instead I quietly rot away in this cozy coffin, and dream of pastures anew.

I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.

Everything is set for Operation Zopiclone.

Julian kindly halved some pills for me and I have not had an unusually sleepy day so far so I am out of excuses to avoid trying it.

Now comes the hard part : overcoming the fear.

Fear that comes from the other times I have experimented with medicated sleep and ended up sleeping far too deeply and intensely and end up waking up feeling absolutely terrible from my sleep apnea.

And the effects of getting caught up on months of missed REM cycles all in one night.

Basically, I dreamed too hard. Which figures.

Since those incidents, I have, understandably, been afraid tp try again. And this is no mere hesitation. This is the sort of deep down animal fear that comes from having an experience so painful and awful that your entire being becomes determined to do whatever it takes to make sure it never happens again.

That kind of deep self-programming is hard to override no matter the reason.

I do have a weapon against the fear this time : the fact that I was taking Zopiclone in the hospital and I slept quite well when I was there.

Which is ironic given how noisy hospitals are even at night.

Whatever happened to “Quiet : hospital zone”?

Doesn’t count for people inside the hospital, I guess.

So I will keep that excellent hospital sleep in mind when nerving myself up to take my half of a Zopiclone later tonight.

Hopefully this will be yet another case of my making a big fuss over nothing and everything will turn out fine.

But if not, I will at least have learned something.

I swear, one of those post-medication mornings, I felt so bad I am surprised I survived it.

Anyhow. More after the break.

More smexy talk!

Yes, it’s back despite popular demand. Fru talks sexy on his blog.

You’ve been warned.

Had yet another marathon jack off session. Around an hour and a half this time.

That seems to be the norm lately. I get all fired up viewing my beloved pornography and just keep going until I am totally out of steam

Well when you never ejaculate, it’s hard to know when to stop.

I get the feeling that, in addition to the well known antipathy between antidepressants and orgasms, I am also not getting the stimulation I need to make the weasel go pop from the same old things.

I need some fresh new perverted interest to freshen things up.

But I can’t think of one right now. I will come up with one eventually but right now I am drawing a blank.

Perhaps not enough blood has returned to the big head from its long trip to the little head for me to think straight yet.

You know what I mean.

Of course, it could be that what I really need is a playmate. But my massive social and sexual issues make that very hard to get going.

No doubt I could find a willing partner on the gay hookup apps. That’s not an issue.

But the sheer quantity of paranoia and mistrust I would have to overcome makes letting someone get that close to me makes it a daunting prospect indeed.

I wish I could do casual sex. But I can’t. Sex will always be extremely intimate to me and if the intimacy isn’t there, neither is the sex.

For me, sex is two (or more) souls reaching out to one another i the dark.

And that makes a quick roll in the hay with a stranger impossible.

I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.

Because right now, I’m not too sure about that, or anything else.

Had therapy today. Friday. Normally it’s Thursday but my therapist had a personal emergency yesterday so we bumped it to today.

Decent session. Talked about how I recently realized that I’ve had this strong need to express myself for my entire life.

Which explains why I have always been so ferociously myself. When you are so deeply driven to express who you are, the last thing you want to do is express it falsely.

After the session, at around 2:15 pm, I lay down to rest and to recover from both therapy and doing Wound Care earlier today.

I promptly fell deeply asleep and didn’t wake up tor three hours.

When I woke up, I was VERY bran fried. Still am, hence the planet thing.

Now I have to lay down again

This is going to be fun, isn’t it?

The fox also rises

OK. 350 words. 2.75 hours. No problem.

Now let’s see how long I can stay awake THIS time.

Because I am having one lulu of a sleepy day. Clearly my neurochemicals have decided that my lingering sleep debt must be paid in full NOW and are executing that directive with brutal efficiency.

And I guess I can live with that.

It’s not exactly fun feeling all sandbagged and waterlogged like I do right now and I don’t like the disruption to my routine very much, but I am willing to ride the ebbing tide like flotsam in order to get caught up on sleep.

I have faith that there will be light at the end of this dark and disturbing tunnel and that I will feel a lot better when the process is complete.

It’s funny how after I discussed my sleep issues and Zopiclone with Doctor Costin last week, I started sleeping better. And after discussing them again with him this week, I launched into a big sleep sink.

Imagine what will happen when I get around to actually taking the stuff.

I know I have miles to go before I wake. But I am making progress. I already feel better in this waking per than the last one.

Hopefully the next one will be even better.

I can feel the heaviness of sleep pulling me down like gravity. And I want to go to sleep when I am done blogging. But I am afraid that I will sleep through our usual Friday night Zoom meeting and I would hate for that to happen.

Not that I have much choice. I am already nodding off. At this rate I will be lucky to make wordcount before staggering off to bed and nosediving into sleep.

52 more words before I sleep.

I can do this.

Wound care went fine. The nurse was quite skillful and efficient while also being pleasant and cheerful.

What more could a patient like me ask for?

A lot of things, actually, but they are all highly inappropriate and require her to have a penis and a really long tongue.

I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow afternoon .

It’s so cold in this pl’ heap of squalor now that I am actually thinking of getting dressed.

It’s that or close my window, and I treasure fresh air too much to do that if there’s another reasonable option.

So yes, now it can be told : when I am writing these little missives, and most of the rest of the time too, I am stark naked except for socks.

The socks make it sexier. (Plus I need them to protect my foot wounds, but that’s not nearly as fun.)

By far, though, the best thing about lounging around naked most of the time is how easy that makes it to masturbate.

(Yes, this will be one of those “sexy” blog entries I warned you I would write soon.)

I can be all casual about it. Just reach down and grab the ol’ dipstick and jack it while I wait for something to load,

So to speak.

And if that happens to get my motor running, the entire glorious wonderful world of internet pornography in all its perverted splendor is but a few clicks away.

Yesterday, I ended up jerking off for almost two hours straight in a row, which you have to admit is pretty impressive for a guy my age.

And no, alas, I did not make it to the happy squirting time, but I am getting better at accepting that most probable of outcomes. Or lack of comes, as it were.

After all, it still feels great and is a whole lot of fun. And it does help relieve my balls of some of their button blueness, and it’s pretty good cardio, too.

And that’s what I have instead of a sex life.

Or at least, as much of it as I can talk about on a public blog without risking jail time and/or shaming my family for generations.

More after the break.

More smexy talk

It’s like “sexy”, but in baby talk.

Let that sink in.

Hey, if it helps to return the innocence to sex, I’m all for it.

Sex could be such a powerful tool to spread joy and love and anuses. It could give people the kind of deep, cleansin, soul deep healing all us wounded spirits so desperately need in these troubled times.

I mean, we’re going to need SOMETHING to do when civilization is gone and we’re all living in huts on stilts above the ArcticCircle.

That’s the great thing about fucking. It’s always there! If you got people, you can fuck.

Who knows? Maybe then all these destructive taboos and all that bad programming will fade away and we will all be free to look for sexual playmates with the same innocence and openness and eagerness we once brought to looking fot someone to play with when we were kids.

Hookup apps are getting us closer. I want to start one called Let’s Fuck. It would be unambiguously for finding people to do sexytimes with. No coy language about looking for “romance’ or “liaisons”. No hearts or flowers and no censored Cupids Just tastefully explicit art all through the app to get people in the mood and a straightforward hookup app interface which directly says, ” I am looking to do $sex_act with a $gender_presentation while wearing a $kinky_costume and being watched appreciatively by $church_officials who are $degree_of_nudity..”etc.

Kind of like sexual Mad Libs.

If that worked, I would move into the same thing but with brick and mortar locations. Fuckatoriums, if you will. Places you can go with the same openly horny atmosphere and plenty of bedrooms, couches, showers, and of course, clean bedding.

Basically I want gay bathhouses for straight people. And everyone else.I want them to be something every neighbourhood has, like a dry cleaners or a supermarket.

I could go on and on. Butt my butt is getting sore for woefully unsmexy reasons.

But I’m telling you, give me the money and I will change the world.

I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.

So I ended up registering the new card.

Not without some frustration. Typed in all the info and got told it was an invalid card number. Went through that five times, each time typing it in more slowly and carefully, but to no avail.

So I had to throw in the towel and get Julian to come in and read the numbers to me. Then it worked. Phew!

So then I was able to update my payment info nd then the order went through. Huzzah!

It arrived today (ain’t modern life amazing?) and I immediately knew something was amiss because the box was way too small to have a full sized PC keyboard in it.

Opened it up to find a thin little keyboard suitable for letting you type as you are using your Smart TV or the like.

Now I knew that the item description mentioned using it with your Smart TV. It just never occurred to me that this meant it would be so dainty.

So technically I screwed up. But I don’t feel too bad about it. It’s just another clever way the universe has come up with to mess with me that I could never have seen coming.

Well that’s what experience is for, isn’t it?

So I’m returning it. Such petite keyboards are not compatible with my big ol’ gorilla hands. Luckily, I don’t have to repack and ship it back to them.

Some refugees from an 80’s sci fi action flick called Inteltech are going to drop by to pick it up and they will take care of the rest.

The money will be refunded eventually. In the meantime, I will order a different wireless keyboard.. and this time I will know what to watch out for!

More after the break.

I’m okey with the poke

Doing the Poke Okey thing tonight.

You put the brown rice in
Then you add some sprouts
Then put your sauces in
And you shake it all about

You do the Pokey Okey and
You stick it in your mouth

And that’s what it’s all about

A strange man’s idea of fun

I stick with Pokey Okey because I tried two other poke places and the ingredient quality was absolute crap compared to PO and that pretty much sealed the deal.

This despite my still being miffed at them for adding a whole bunch of awesome non-fishy proteins like ginger beef and marinated pork then taking them away again!

I guess they weren’t profitable. Dammit.

So now we’re back to the only two non-fishy protein options being chicken and avocado. And I don’t like avocado.

Chicken it is, then. Nothing wrong with that. I just prefer to have options.

Originally, I was going to get Chinese from Bamboo Expressbut they were closed.

Then I tried the Wing Kee, but I had forgotten how expensive they are now. Yikes.

So then it was poke time. It shares some DNA with Asian cuisine, and it’s always a bowl full of happiness.

Delicious, nutritious, and reasonably priced.

What more can you ask for?

I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow afternoon .