Well I called the pharmacy. Turns out my main man Simon is away, will be back tomorrow, so I will have to call back then.
I guess the super young sounding dude (seriously, he sounds ten) that replaces him when he’s away did not want to deal with my needing a new box of Dexcom G6 sensors one week after the previous box.
A box that SHOULD have lasted 30 days. Sigh.
Nothing’s ever simple, nothing’s ever easy, and nothing ever just fucking WORKS.
At least I am not as sleepy today as I was yesterday. Don’t get me wrong, I am still pretty sleepy, but nowhere near as somnolent as I was 24 hours ago.
Now, I at least have a saving throw versus sleep.
And it’s not the pervasive and saturating tiredness from before. I can feel a steady tug downwards beckoning me to lay down and surrender anon, but it’s not too hard to ignore it and delay my downtime.
Still, when I finish writing,. I am going to have to go down. No real choice.
And I hate that. I don’t like having no choice in the matter. I prefer to choose when I leep and when I stay up.
Then again, at least I am learning to wise up and listen to my body and do what it wants me to do.
It’s only taken the 40 years since I learned that in the Seventies for that to sink in.
Turns out I am only a lightning faster learner in certain areas.
Feeling frustrated and restless and sick of my life today.
Because it’s a stupid fucking life. All I do is play video games and blog. I don’t do a single thing that might get me somewhere in life and that’s a huge deal because I am not a happy man.
Comfortable, maybe. But not content.
God damn it. Gotta go down.
I will be back soon.
This shit is getting old fast.
Maaaybe I spoke too soon on that “not as sleepy” thing.
Well, no. I definitely feel less sleepy than yesterday. It just seems to amount to my needing to sleep all the goddamned time anyway.
Napped after finishing previous section. Woke up, felt pretty alert and ready to at the very least finish my first 500. But then I realized I needed to poop.
Did so. Now I feel like I am going to pass out and faceplant into the keyboard and all I want to do is crawl back into bed AGAIN.
I might be fighting off an infection. My throat is sore sometimes and I get a scratchy feeling in the center of my chest sometimes too.
Regardless of cause, it’s irritating. Like always, I wish I could be all Zen about it and just go with the flow but I am too feisty by nature and I want to live my damned life.
Such as it is. Hey, it might not be much, but it’s mine.
But no. Now I have to go back bed for yet MORE goddamned sleep.
More after the break.
I give my pain to the night
Thrust my shattered heart into the void
Cleanse my filthy soul in the fires of creation
Bleed my blackest blood into the gaping maw of an open grave
Feed my festering flesh to the hounds of hell
And piss my poisons into the immortal river of life
Hoping that these obscene ablutions
Can finally free me to be
Not the toad I’ve been
But the prince I was meant to be
Ya know. I’m a pretty good poet. I should write stuff like the above more often.
It might not exactly have commercial appeal, but it helps me cope, and that’s more than enough reason to do it.
Some art is for the artist alone.
Still pretty fucking sleepy despite like four more hours of sleep.
And it’s so very boring.
And irritating. I think what bugs me the most during these sleepy periods is that they make it harder to think, and historically, I get pretty testy when my cognition is impaired.
That’s how little faith I have in the benevolence or even neutrality of the cosmos. Deep down, my core programming insists that only by being hyper alert and ready to apply absolutely all of my massive mental might to handling reality at a heartbeat’s notice, I am in terrible danger and something truly awful is going to happen any second.
Man, that’s a lot of neurosis to be carrying around as just the background to my actual conscious operating mind.
I suppose that’s what happens when your innocence is shattered by a stranger’s cock when you are only four years old.
All your trust in the safety of the world is gone and you have to develop some other way to cope with life when you are still too young to ride the Ferris Wheel.
Innocence has a purpose. A very important one. It keeps us from learning things we can’t yet handle and nurtures the soul through the painful process of maturing.
It’s like it guides the child through the proper stages of mental growth and makes sure they happen in the right order to ensure they become a psychologically and spiritually healthy adult one day.
Mine got fucked pretty much right away.
Maybe that’s why my growth was so utterly unbalanced. So much mental, so very little spiritual. Powers of the mind that bury the needle but so little in the way of emotional growth that at times I feel like a helpless infant.
One left to cry until his tears ran dry, and who is still, on some level, waiting for someone to notice his distress and come fix everything for him.
The fact that adult me knows there is zero chance of that ever happening does not give baby me the power to grow up without it.
I still need all that emotional nutrition I missed. It’s not optional. Strong psyches, like strong bodies, aren’t just wished into existence.
They are made from what you get from your environment.
You are what you eat, after all.
And I have been starving my whole life.
And some time soon, if I am not careful, I will finally die from it.
I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.