Posts tagged food
Yeah, i did get that hip replaced, and I’m lucky to get medical weed, but then again, i may not be too lucky to get medical weed if I had to get it because I had a failing hip.
Yeah, surgery was not fun. There was a hole next to that large incision because a draining tube was in there, to make sure I did not have a build up of gross fluid building up inside of the wound after I had parts of my bones cut off and replaced with plastic and metal. I haven’t had a full size x-ray film to take a photo of since surgery, but I have seen that fake joint in there, on a tiny x-ray in my chart with the orthopedic surgeon, and i will eventually get a larger one. I will not be getting a MRI on that hip ever again though. I wonder if I will be able to get a MRI for any part of my body now.
The wound did heal up nicely, but there is still a depression where that drain tube was, and the scar feels weird, parts of it nearly numb because some nerves were inevitably cut in the operation. Such a deep wound did not seem to take very long to heal, and I was so very careful about not dislocating the new hip that I probably still don’t use it as hard or normally as I could.
I still catch myself limping when I don’t have to, fearing that eventually if I walk enough the old pain will return. There is still pain, but it is different, and not quite as severe. My mental issues are more of a block to me than this hip is at times, but then again, my body still tries to act like the hip is a problem, since I could not use it for so long that my left leg actually got physically smaller than the right one.
At least I was able to have medical weed before and after surgery though. I did not have it right after surgery, although that would have been nice. I should have considered getting my hands on a vaping solution before i got surgery, so I could have gotten high right in the hospital on the down low after surgery.
I did get to smoke in the 2nd week after surgery, when I had a friend sneak some weed and a pipe into the rehab place I was at. It was kind of a nursing home, my room mate seemed to have had a massive brain injury at some point, and he would talk about having a vagina and a baby on a regular basis.
I wanted to visit him after I got out, and I had to go back to do some paperwork, but I didn’t. I wanted to get out of there as soon as my business there was finished, even after I said repeatedly that I would use that opportunity to see that guy. I think I was still guilty about leaving him there, even though he is literally not my problem.
I felt like i helped him to talk more when I was there interacting with him, and I felt badly for abandoning him now that he seemed to be more focused and “present”. I still have to let that go, it’s not my job, I have my own issues to deal with now that my hip is not my constant excuse to be physically careful, or at least for much longer I think.
I have to wonder if doing a little medical weed would have helped him, but then again, this facility was strictly non smoking, even in an outside courtyard where I was able to sneak it anyway. Maybe someone knew, and could smell it, or maybe even saw me do it out of a window, but nobody confronted me, and I wanted out of there so badly after I voluntarily put myself there to prevent injuring myself by trying to do too much.
Now that I’m able to get a bag legally, I can barely afford it! There is the issue where trying to buy a whole ounce at a time does not make it cheaper anymore, when they try to sell you two half ounces for the half ounce price and won’t give you any discount on volume. I know, that is the “old days” I guess. One casualty of the now legal means in which I can buy and own weed without freaking out and being paranoid about it. On the other hand, I can’t brag too openly about it though, because I don’t want anyone to think I have enough to make it worth harassing me about it. I don’t sell it, I just take my little card to the local dispensary, one opened up right next to the apartment at some point!
This was some surprise to me, when I saw the signs, after the place had already opened up. I went in and got a gram just because, I could not believe that it had finally happened. I mean, i was walking in to my very first legal, physically “real” weed dispensary, and it had actually opened up remarkably close to where I was living.
Yeah, I was pretty surprised when I could go over there and walk out with a jar full of weed, a whole ounce, and not the crappy stuff that I was getting when I lived in Louisiana. This was high grade medical stuff, and even the “cheapest” of that stuff is still amazing and much better than anything I was used to for my entire life before having access to this.
I was so shocked to go into a “store” and walk out with a “jar of weed” and it was all legal, and further, my right to treat my pain the way I had become used to was finally validated, after a lifetime of living in the shadows, paranoid of getting busted, worried about getting a record, and worried about how harsh the state of Louisiana would be because they seem to want to lock EVERYBODY up.
Right now, down in the state shaped like a boot, synthetic weed carries the same penalties for real weed, from what I read recently, but who knows if that’s true? I know Billy the exterminator, the guy with that show I don’t watch, got busted in some not so cheap hotel in the Courtyard Marriott in Benton, Louisiana with fake weed and he went to real jail… I won’t go to jail, and I have jars of freaking weed, well, one at a time, there is a 2.5 ounce limit and I never come that close. I’m not rich y’all!
I know there was a whole jar there at one point, but I took my time getting around to taking the photo! There are 2 more jars that I did take the time out to share though! Next time, the jar gets a photo nearly full of weed, along with a receipt just in case it tries to fade like other receipts from other places have in the past.
The fire alien super skunk was amazing, but it’s hard to tell the difference between this, the herojuana, and the “outer space” that I got later on. It is just all so good and gets me so very high!
These big jars of medical weed are pretty, smell nice, and create an amazing high. The herojuana was an indica hybrid, whatever that means, no, really, I need to study this stuff. I know that there are indicas and sativas, and there is this big difference between the two, if you can actually tell once you are high I guess. 🙂
With cute names like lil sebastian and outer space, it’s no wonder it has taken so very long for the industry to reach specific standards and be taken seriously. Then again, weed has always been “underground” because it has been illegal for so very long, in fact, it still is on a federal level as of this writing, even if the feds seem to lay off people in states who legally obtain weed with a medical card, like I have.
This card expired in early 2016, but I have a new one that was renewed, and I will get it renewed again, but the 3rd time I get this card it will be a hell of a lot cheaper!!! When I got the card, there was only a handful of doctors who would sign a recommendation, but that all changed when the dispensaries opened up everywhere! It seems that I was right, once more dispensaries were in existence, or at least ONE, there would be much more push to get more doctors to sign those recommendations, because the new dispensaries NEED CUSTOMERS!
This weed was called “outer space” and as far as I’m concerned, it sent me to outer space just as thoroughly as the “fire alien super skunk” or the “lil sebastian” or the “herojuana” or any of the many strains that I was getting before I knew what I was getting at all because it came in a plastic bag after a transaction in a parking lot!
When I go to list some of the strains of weed that I have been so lucky to get to try in the “tags”, I think it is so awesome that I have finally gotten to match a name with the high, instead of just getting some generic random baggy with a bunch of buds in it that I knew were the right weight, but I knew nothing other than what it weighed, because I could measure that. I rarely if ever thought to ask about the name of a strain, but I knew that the person could just make it up.
Outer space popcorn buds seems to look kind of purple when photographed with no flash. It’s still bright green with a flash, and maybe hints of purple here and there between the green. It’s so pretty, but it’s all going to burn no matter how nice it looks. There is an exception to that though, if you are going to eat the weed, but not really eating weed, but an extract put into candy.
I like this one, “bears on clouds”. The only problem is that I wasn’t on clouds after eating it. I didn’t really feel anything at all, but I am so used to smoking weed, and, if I had smoked any before eating this, I would have just felt whatever I smoked. I believe that I held out and did not smoke before eating one of these, but then again, I probably would have smoked recently enough before eating this so that I still had residual THC higher than what’s in this thing. The label had more info though. Still don’t help me.
Yeah, 25mg, I’m just as lost as if I was trying to figure out exactly what I would feel like after a shot of 40 “proof” vodka in a glass half full of “tampico” juice. You know that’s not really juice. It goes so damn good with vodka though, right? Anyway, I have a pretty good idea how I might feel after 4, 5 and then 6 ice beers that are 5.9% alcohol, but I have not drank vodka in so very long, I can only assume that one shot would feel like one beer once consumed in a mixed drink. I can’t assume anything though, because after the first shot, each drink would be a double, and then I would start diluting with water but still hitting the vodka, and worst of all, with kool aid, probably pink lemon aid or just plain lemon aid.
You have to keep that pipe clean, or you are just slapping yourself right in the nuts. A good way to waste good weed is to try to smoke it through a pipe that has some tiny hole air is sometimes going through. Burning it so that the stuff liquefies and then sucking through a gurgling, bubbling mess is not going to help either. I’ve got a system now involving 2 jars, one with rubbing alcohol in it, and the pipe can just soak overnight and a q-tip is more than enough to clean it out. You need some alcohol soaked wet wipes though to clean your hands after dealing with this stuff, it’s horrible. Just imagine my lungs! Geez! LOL
Yes, I did get it renewed. I have already had the address changed once, so they sent me a 2nd card, which is cool because usually they ruin the previous one when you get a renewal. They are so uptight, they don’t even take the ID they issue as proof of ID when you go to the DMV to get an ID… Yeah, if it sounds confusing, just wait until you have to go in there with 2 things that have been mailed to you, and they have to be important, not junk mail. Then you don’t get a card right there, it’s mailed to you.
That was a real pain when the mail boxes at the apartment got broken into, and I had to take a bus to a post office several miles away to pick up mostly junk with a few important things, like Candy’s fucking ID. But, it is done, mission accomplished, don’t have to do that again. I do have to go back to that post office again though because those boxes are still fucked. I guess it’s even more secure to get mail at the post office than these fucking boxes with the fucking delinquents running around that apartment complex.
I have had the opportunity to smoke some pretty exotic weed in the last few months, or over the course of the last year and a half. For the first six months that I had a weed card I was still going through a dealer that I was grateful to know. The prices got much cheaper through the dispensaries though and I was able to pick exactly what I wanted, or I should say, let Candy pick what she wanted, because I still split it with her and she picks the strain. I just have to hope she keeps it cheap, which she has been, she’s getting just as cheap as I am lately. 🙂
Long buds, short buds, green buds, purple buds, it’s all so good. I can barely tell them apart, especially if I start drinking that 5.9% alcohol ice beer I was talking about before. Sometimes a local convenience store gets a deal on some nearly expired craft beer and it can go as high as 8% alcohol. That totally kicks my ass, I can’t really do a whole six pack of those but sometimes I have mistakenly tried. I was taking tramadol back then too! I have quit doing all the pills, or I should say “any” pills, because I only did 2 for pain to begin with. Any xanax was donated to me and taken as I received it, so I am not “in possession” of it. That shit is good, but I can’t do it very often at all!
This beer was amazing, and I can only barely remember it. I did take a photo of the label though, and it was 8% alcohol. For a beer, that is powerful. That’s why the ice beers are so popular, and why they always put “5.9% alcohol” right on the packaging. They are bragging because they know cheapskates like me are looking for that high alcohol content!
You can almost see the alcohol content. I must truly love drinking. I know that the alcohol lobby probably has something to do with the fact that weed is still largely illegal in most states, and currently as I write this, on a federal level. I also know that it’s not just big alcohol, it’s big pharma, big police unions, big correctional unions, and the power of old people to grasp onto and never let go of status quo. I hope for a future when people are not being locked up for a freaking plant, but this is the good old U S of A we’re talking about. Home of the free and the brave, and the highest incarcerated population of any country in the world. Yes, the entire world. That world includes Russia and China in my reality, so maybe we should stop making them out to be the big villain all the time at this point.
So much sushi, so little time. I love sushi, but I can’t really afford it. It’s a good thing that I have seemingly proved my usefulness with a few very special people, so that this seems to happen every once in a while, and I’m told that I actually deserve it. I know I’m very lucky, as long as the thread holding my reality together at the seams holds. If just one segment anywhere important breaks, there is a shitload of trouble coming my way, and all I can do is attempt to brace myself, or in the case of being drunk, not brace myself for whatever comes.
Maybe it’s this “endless shrimp mentality” that is causing people to remain so comfortable with the status quo. There is no reason to keep putting up with the kind of massive injustice that exists in this society, except, it’s just easier to go along, which is actually my philosophy, except for what my fingers decide to type now and then. If my writing is a rebellion against good writing, it’s also a rebellion against the blind acceptance of the status quo. I have a fully viewable but still accepting it perception of the status quo. I may actually register to vote for the first time ever just to vote yes on question 2, which is to basically legalize weed in the state of Nevada, where i live now that I ran away from Louisiana so long ago. I beat another flood in Baton Rouge this time!
I like to watch my food cower in fear before I eat it! I guess I can’t keep complaining because I have it pretty good, I’m really lucky, and I have just enough friends to get by without getting fucked over, so far. I want to thank everyone in my life that helped me to refuse to get hip surgery for months and then finally talk me into it in the “last minute rush” to get that appointment when I finally got cut on. I almost TURNED DOWN THAT APPOINTMENT. Now I’m glad I didn’t. I was a little different for a few years that I was in so much pain. I don’t think medical weed was really enough to help. I was a real asshole on many occasions, and sometimes I wonder if I was being pushed additionally by the creeping, slowly growing pain in my hip before I got surgery. Now I watch people I care about suffer because I know that nobody is going to give them this surgery.
I love producing and delivering random content and trying to call it art. I think it is, but I wonder sometimes, if it was such a good thing that bbw and even ssbbw content became such a regular thing all the sudden. Like, it’s a very weird trade off with what’s going on. It’s like fat all the sudden became “ok” with a big woman as long as she is “DTF” in the process of already being big. I should not and will not get into all of that. I deleted every post that I created over years because of posts that included comments about women that I myself later felt may be offensive. I have to change the subject, but I also had to put this photo here and point out the irony. I am buzzed by now, and I wasn’t when I started this post. Maybe I saved it to “drafts” because I thought that it needed input from drunk me.
I knew what I was in for when I moved to the “big city” of fabulous Las Vegas. So far, I kind of like it, but then again, I only go out in the daytime and I have not been seriously assaulted yet, so who knows what will happen to my opinion of this place? I know that I have to accept the over all outcome, which is, I met someone that I believe I was supposed to meet, even if it has NOT BEEN EASY AT ALL TO GET USED TO THE DIFFERENCE.
Life in the big city, with mountains all the way around me, as if I am waiting for water to just fill this place up and wash it away. it’s beautiful in ways, it’s ugly in ways, it is what it is, and I live here because I chose it, rather than just being dragged somewhere as a baby by someone else and then deciding that I should grow up and die in the very same place myself.
I’m going to publish this, instead of letting it sit in drafts, and I may come back and do a part 2, but for now, this should just go up as it is… Thanks… I still don’t want to delete this domain name as I let all kinds of others just kind of vanish, or turn into Japanese spam sites, like bbwglamour.com. LOL
Eat those beets! Oh, I know that there is no way to understand scale and know how large my incision was…
I don’t like to depend on “luck” as we call it, or think we know it. I live in Las Vegas, and I don’t really enjoy or feel compelled to gamble. It’s really ironic to move nearly 2000 miles from Louisiana to Las Vegas and not want to gamble.
I blame it on my cheapness, and my weak but solid knowledge of math, statistics, and odds. I make one assumption when I walk into one of those massive super store type casinos. The odds are in the house’s favor. Beyond that, I realize that any money lost would be a natural consequence for betting against that house.
The cheapskate trait that I have noticed most of my life comes in when I realize all the things I could do with money rather than gamble it away through some lottery or machine. I also make subtle calculations on how much money I would lose over time if I continued with a regular gambling habit that seemed small.
As cheap as I am, and as aware of odds as I am, I still smoked cigarettes for a few decades on and off. I had managed to quit before, for over a year, but something would eventually trigger me into going back to it. I’m only at day 17 and I’m acting like I have beat smoking already, but I am used to using patches and now there is the “emergency e-cig” too.
After just a few weeks, I’m already having dreams about smoking, but instead of fulfilling a fantasy of wanting to smoke in those dreams, they are more like nightmares, because of the feeling of disappointment after taking that first drag on the “dream cigarette”.
I have been in some kind of inner conflict for the longest about if luck is something that really exists, or if an old cliche’ is true about the more you work towards a goal, the more luck you happen to run into. I don’t test my luck in a casino because just like the psychics like to say “it doesn’t work that way.”
When I consider where I am right now, and how things are going, I am forced to remember what it was like when things were so different, and I was so different. My “growth” was hindered by the abuse of just one drug, alcohol, for months at a time, and I didn’t seem to grasp the seriousness of the situation I was placing myself in.
Now, I have only taken a baby step towards being somewhat “fixed” in quitting smoking. That is just one little habit in a long line of impulsive behavior I have to gain control over. In quitting smoking, I have given myself another level of confidence in what I can achieve when I put my mind to it.
The truth is, I was merely procrastinating from quitting smoking because the withdrawal is such a bitch. I would have done it long ago, as I have a few times before, but I just didn’t feel like the hassle of a few weeks in first world misery. Once I started using expressions like “first world” more often, I started to realize the arrogance of this concern over such a minor inconvenience.
I was only so “lucky” to get to smoke in the first place because I had the extra income to blow nearly $200 a month on the drug that would probably end up killing me eventually. It seems so simple, when you think of the assumed logical equation of smoking = death. Maybe people who smoke have a death wish. Maybe people who eat themselves up to nearly or over 500lbs also have a similar wish, but it has been modified to abuse a substance that provides life. Food.
I don’t usually post music videos, but I had to give credit to what I chose to listen to while I attempt to finish this blob post without hitting 5000 words, but then again, there is no way I can predict where my stream of consciousness writing will go.
I’m only 2 weeks into quitting smoking, but I already know I will be successful, because I have been reminded in what could be called a “nightmare” that I have to quit, “right now” apparently. There is some sense of synchronicity in this realization, because Candy experiences such breathing difficulty that she is on 2 different medications now.
I never smoked inside after Candy quit smoking, I started smoking outside before Candy ever quit actually. I made it a habit, because I always knew I would quit smoking, and I didn’t want my apartment and everything in it to be polluted with that horrible smell after I quit.
After I quit for just a week, i started to experience my true sense of smell again as well. Now I can taste better, and I can detect so many things in the air around me with a sense that had been dulled for years by this dreadful habit.
I can detect a female that is heavily “scented” from quite a distance. I can also detect when someone is smoking a cigarette in a very wide area. I can smell someone close to me and know if they are an alcoholic, or a smoker, or a pot smoker, or a crackhead.
With that realization alone, I am motivated to stay far away from inhaling burning matter on purpose, except for weed of course. I went to the trouble of getting a card at the DMV from the state of Nevada to get legal permission to smoke fucking weed. What a rigmarole.
I might be “lucky” to have quit smoking when I did, or in the long timeline, it’s already too late and the real tragedy is that I don’t even know it. Either way, I’ll take a higher quality of life while it is granted to this old, abused body. I am still trying to become more “enlightened” even though I realize that because of my age and my old ways, it will be much more difficult than a much younger version of me.
There was really no way to break through to younger me though, as it is, I didn’t become a full fledged alcoholic until after hitting 40, and I am already backtracking at 46. When I gain control over alcohol though, I won’t need to abstain, I will just use it sparingly when the desire arises to reconnect with this aggravating part of myself.
I have had access to more pharmaceuticals than I can pronounce, and I don’t abuse those at all. I know where that road goes, I chose to start using alcohol when I already knew how fucking serious it was and dangerous that particular compulsion can be to people like myself who have issues with impulse control and procrastination and anxiety and depression.
I lost so much while I chose to experiment with alcohol. Candy didn’t even know the full extent of her ability to emotionally disconnect and withdraw when exposed to a “typical alcoholic”. She had family issues going way back with alcoholism, and me being “that guy” brought her back to a family situation that she fled from as a mere child. There was no way she would tolerate that behavior from me.
I don’t think it’s too late for me though, I started reading “Be Here Now” and it gave me an insight and perception that I had not thought of or realized for a very long time. It was like reading that first Dianetics book and realizing that there were a lot of statements in there that I “knew already but never thought of in that way.”
I realized as I was reading Be Here Now by Ram Dass how similar his ability to recall things everyone already kind of knows in a different way is to L Ron Hubbard. The severe difference is that L Ron Hubbard doesn’t write from the perspective of someone who has done LSD.
Ram Dass also traveled India extensively and met with many gurus who made a profound impact on his perception of this reality. The influence of being on LSD a lot of the time could have impacted or biased that experience, but when you think about it, it would bias it in exactly the direction he was meant to go.
Be here now is all about figuring out the simple truth that you are exactly where you are supposed to be at any given time, given your desire to either find enlightenment or hide from it.
Everyone is on a path, and some people ride that path with blinders on, protecting them from seeing the potential branches that they could take which would change their lives for the better, forever.
I have used “drugs” to open my perception beyond what my bias and upbringing and limited education would allow. I have expanded the very experience of my reality by opening my mind up to alternate states of consciousness.
People who are all like “drugs, ew” are so “white and uptight” that it kills me. I can easily see why so many Caucasians will reject the race that they happened to be assigned at birth in favor of one that isn’t so fucking uptight!
I have spent a great deal of time in waiting rooms, getting the much needed and neglected medical attention for myself and “The Candy” simply because the opportunity was provided by this thing “Obamacare” that so many “fake conservatives” are all worked up over. I dread another “republican in name only” getting into office to destroy any chance I have to get medical care while at the same time creating a moral panic over “obscenity” to appeal to the religious right. 🙁
I have read a great deal of spiritual material in those waiting rooms, and I feel that I am very very far from total enlightenment, but even the very first step towards it is enthralling, exhilarating, and beautiful.
I have realized that no matter who I was, or have been, there is room in my heart for change, for the better.
I know that no matter what beliefs I have stubbornly held onto in the past, I can see the “big picture” just a little clearer now. I know that my dependence on any substance has been some kind of false idol that I worship and make sacrifice to in order to maintain my personal status quo of procrastination.
If the first step in solving a problem is admitting there is a problem. I passed that little nugget of self awareness months, if not years ago. I just needed a reason to grow emotionally. I needed to find hope and salvation in the potential of a future I really wanted in order to make myself prepared and available for that future to occur in this reality.
Now, as I take the baby step of quitting smoking, I realize that there is something in my distant future that requires and demands that little positive change in order to allow a chain of events to occur. I am thinking of time a little differently now. Instead of thinking of time on a straight line, I can see how the present intersects with the future due to consequence in ways that I could not see or did not want to see before.
The simple act of quitting smoking has caused me to begin to realize a whole set of new future realities, that never would have occurred to me without having had the experiences I have had, good and bad.
If I had not gone through so much bad shit, I would not have had the motivation or inspiration to continue to get better, and continue to grow spiritually. When I say grow spiritually, do not confuse that with the whole fucked up and contradictory phenomenon known as “religion”.
They are not the same, and can’t be, because current mainstream eastern religion inhibits personal growth by keeping women down and restricting sexual behavior. It will always seem back woods and “redneck”. Just look at any given argument against “same sex marriage”.
I have to laugh when I see what bigoted fools the highly reverent and religious are making of themselves to this current, slightly more enlightened generation.
Maybe I am so lucky, because while in one of my altered states of consciousness, I had this crazy idea of leaving everything I knew so well to travel west and land in allegedly fabulous Las Vegas. I followed some sense of what I know will happen in the future. I know that Louisiana will be one of the very last hold outs to legalizing marijuana.
I know that as voters turn down medical marijuana in the deep southern state of Florida, voters in Nevada approved medical marijuana over a decade ago, but the state of Nevada is pussyfooting around because they are so scared of being hassled over “gaming”. Dicks.
I think that I realize just how lucky I am, to have moved to where I did, just when I did, and follow a highly disciplined regimen of living on next to nothing for over 3 years. It sounds totally crazy, even to me, but I seem to know what’s coming, and I am planning every step of the way before I even realize what I am planning for.
Everything just happens as it is supposed to. I take limited risks in tiny micro social environments, and I create an outcome that I really want. I am faced with a challenge larger than I have ever attempted in all my life in the future. I have to make everything exactly the way I want it, in a way that is even more perfect than I have set it up in the present. The scary part is, I know I am capable of doing it, and it will be done.
I am just that lucky. 🙂
I wanted to write, the last post being created from a perspective that had not yet completed a specific objective which required multiple prerequisites. The stress of that upcoming change, decision, or action caused ripples in the time before it, extending months. The planning that had gone into it was set into motion years before that.
I signed in, signed up, and shopped for my plan. The plan would be free, but I didn’t quite know it at the moment before taking the actions. I had employed some type of psychic accounting in order to prevent liability, but I had taken it to such an extreme and I probably did not need to.
A moment here or there, sober or intoxicated, taking a peek at subsidy calculators and the current table of poverty guidelines issued by the same people that think one can live on 700 a month. I could have worked it out much more skillfully, but some frantic, manic, procrastinating, lazy fool chose to take over for a bit instead.
I still haven’t done the research, but a part of me even chose a specific number as an income target. It wasn’t very well thought out, except some simple math showed that I would have to make one amount in order to maintain bills, maybe save a little, and still have the reserve capacity to make big payments in order to sustain a business model that even I believe is unsustainable.
It takes money to make money. Even if I had a crazy plan to make as little as possible and still keep everything going as if nothing was wrong, there would still be times when I know I would have to come up with 500, 750, maybe even a cool grand at different points in the future. As it stands, there are only two main expenses to my entire business model. Hosting and payment processing.
Without having to file a thousand little receipts I can just pop out those two and the rest is small change. I just don’t spend money. On very much at all. Ever. Sure, a few bad habits have somehow slipped through the cracks. Cheap cigarettes in the hopes I’ll quit, cheap beer because I don’t drink it for the taste. A 22 year old vehicle that I somehow prevent from completely disintegrating before my eyes, and a body that insists on working without intervention from a cruel and malevolent medical complex.
I don’t spend money with some ignorant assumption that I’ll just “write it off”, because when the predicted income level is below a certain point, there is not going to be very much cash to throw around in the hopes of “writing it off”. In other words, if you know you aren’t going to make a specific amount by purchasing any product from the use of that product, the purchase isn’t a write off, it’s a loss.
Maybe my past experience of getting burned in Orlando by that mystical creature Alexis did more help than harm in the long count calendar after all. I mistakenly trusted her to access my credit, thus destroying my credit for that 7 year waiting period for everything to just disappear from the credit report. During those 7 years, one can become quite disciplined in not depending on other people’s money to maintain regular expenses or splurge on what I like to call “stupid shit”.
All those years of avoiding collection efforts, waiting for time to pass, and finding rental accommodations that did not depend on excellent credit really taught me some valuable lessons. To this day, I couldn’t get unsecured credit if I tried, and I have made it that way on purpose. I didn’t use any identity protection “service”, I simply made sure that while my score is actually considered “good”, I do not meet at least one of the criteria for being easily granted credit. I also monitor it myself with an alternate service that is free, except of course for all the ads that are actually paying for it.
There was a built in incentive to be super cheap when you know that the money you have stashed is all you can depend on, and there will be no “safety net” because the credit done run dry and the parents are dead, well, one of them. It provides quite an incentive to view money as “time” instead of seeing it as all the shit you have been told you need on television.
When I went through my last severe depression, I was prepared to release all possessions and live on the street for a while, just as an experiment. I was impressed and disappointed with myself at the same time as I got the job that prevented homelessness at the last minute. I was impressed because I didn’t think I could really pull it off, but I was disappointed because by getting that job, I was abandoning my “plan B”. I didn’t have the balls to be homeless.
I was too selfish to let go of everything I had created and maintained online, even though, being homeless didn’t mean being “host-less”. I could still have existed comfortably on the digital plane even as I was sleeping in a 20 year old van. Hosting is just over $50 a month, rent was $450. I was ready to trade down and allow my physical self to exist in limbo in order to maintain my digital presence for as long as possible. I didn’t have the balls to go through with it. Getting a job, making some cash the old fashioned way, was actually easier for me than just being a lazy fuck and panhandling until I got disability.
It didn’t help that shortly after Candy’s first departure, I made a friend in a guy named Mark. He was 59, and he had been homeless for about a year after coming to Baton Rouge from Chicago. I met him the day after he moved in to an apartment upstairs, just after getting his back payment from social security. This was probably in the second week after Candy left. I would need to review the video footage to make sure, but I don’t think I started making little videos with him until after a month.
He was very abrasive, demanding, insulting, intolerant, somewhat racist, homophobic, unpredictable, unstable, alcoholic, and addicted to Tramadol. He was a real Archie Bunker type, but add the severe alcoholism and drug abuse. I was at a very low point, and I don’t think he saw me for more than an hour of any day sober. The times he would see me sober were when he nagged at me to drive him somewhere after waking me up by phone or knock on the door to wake me up before I could start pounding vodka. Even then, I had to constantly resist the urge to down beers with him that I told him not to open before we would even return “home”.
He shared quite a bit of information about exactly how to “be homeless”, survive, even thrive. The information was geographically specific because he had spent the prior year learning these things right in my own backyard. If I saw him on the street at some point before really meeting him, which I very well could have, I would have refused to acknowledge him, while being aware of his presence just in case he pulled some shit on me. I have a sneaky suspicion that I had seen him too, because he was familiar, and I would have faded memories of those times when I ran some errand and had to avoid “those people”.
Even with his encouragement, and offer of limited support in this venture, I couldn’t go through with it. The alternative was to cut my hair, shave, bathe for once, and wait to start drinking until AFTER I went to at least 3 places in person to drop off a resume and fill out an application, if they even fucking let me. Instead of basing my search at the time on typical want ads, I created ever widening spheres of physical distance I would have to travel for each “zone” where I applied. The closest places weren’t interested at all, but things started looking up when I hit about 3 miles out…
That decision changed a whole lot of future shit. It changed where I live right now, how much cash I have, what computer I’m using, if I still owned that van, and in a way, it has changed who I actually am, “right now”. This changes over time, I know, but that was one of those pivotal moments when I had a distinct choice about how to proceed, and the choice I made led to a future that I am more than satisfied with.
My decision to occasionally rant and rave about this and that over the course of the last six months may have been an indirect effect of the pressure and stress brought about by my fear of missing another mark. Doing it all wrong. My occasional visit with my sometimes evil, insensitive, alcohol induced alter ego hasn’t helped very much. I was in such a panic over having to pay some crazy new monthly bill, that I somehow created a plan that I don’t think I allowed myself to be fully aware of at the time.
I picked a number, and I was so very amazed to see that it was less than $100 off from what I was “hoping for”. I know that the number itself would not inspire very much celebration to a lot of people, because it is a very low number. I am astounded that I am able to maintain the reserve that I have while working at such a low margin for almost an entire year. I know I was sabotaging myself here and there when it came to making money. I could have encouraged someone to get off their *ss and help me out a little more often. I could have taken the massive reserve of unused content and add it to two websites that have not been updated in over two years now.
I didn’t do any of that though. I got lazy. I wonder even now just how much of it was intentional, and how much of it was following along with a plan that I created when I was too intoxicated to even remember it on a conscious level. I never even bothered to do more research to find a much more exact number, or even a slightly higher number that would have still created the same result. Full subsidized healthcare.
I may have created all of this knowing that as a regular earner of one amount, I will be penalized by a lack of subsidies in such a way that would probably not seem fair or proportionate to whatever financial pain I may perceive as an individual who has lived, saved, and been very comfortable with an income level considered “%100 poverty”. I haven’t really worked out the math, but a part of me glanced over at the federal table of poverty level income at one point and I realized that I might not have gotten much of a subsidy at all if I had made as little as 5K more that same year. In fact, my worry was that making one dollar more than some cut off amount would lead to me making one higher amount, and then being forced to pay out so much over the course of a year that I still end up at poverty level income anyway.
If I have to just give it all to them, why even try to make more than a certain amount? It was difficult to even try writing that out without using specific numbers in an example, because I didn’t do the fucking math myself. I just kind of guessed that there would be some kind of steep cut off for subsidies way too low to be realistic or reasonable. So, I went for a target income, when considering expenses, would end up at a point where I do not exceed the federal standard for %100 poverty level by more than 1K.
That was a crazy sounding plan, I know, it seems crazy as I type it. It was convenient that I worked that one full time job the year before last, and I noticed, that without the W-2 from that job, the desired target income was not that much more. It seems even more crazy to me that I would have a serious anxiety about making “too much” money. I should have been adding it up with each statement all through the year, but I was just making general estimations based on quick glances at deposits.
Now, I’m “here”. I enrolled by the deadline. I almost didn’t, because the state exchange that I used was going bat shit crazy on sunday night, and I just kind of gave up because I knew monday was the deadline. I am talking about a state exchange, not the feds. The feds site is such a piece of shit that they keep extending the deadline for them… Nope, my state has an exchange, and the site almost fucked me over because I had to do this big complex application, but the site shit out before I could put my “free” medicaid plan into some arbitrary fucking shopping cart. That shopping cart shit almost fucked me out of enrolling in time, which would have cost me an additional $95 as a “mandate tax”.
I was lucky that I felt compelled to “double check” and go back to the site on the day of the actual deadline, because while the site did say I had “enrolled”, it still forced me to do the shopping cart step, threatening me with potential non enrollment, even though I “digitally signed” this big ass document that took at least 20 minutes to fucking fill out. I came up with the term “entrolled”, because I thought I was enrolled but because that shit is already more fucking complex than taxes, it is almost impossible sometimes to know for sure.
I shouldn’t complain, but it was stressful. It fucked up this whole tax season procrastination thing I had going. I would have made estimated payments through the year based on estimations, but I never knew just how close my fucking estimation would be to what I ended up with. I didn’t know until I was forced to do all the fucking work of filing my taxes without actually filling out the fucking web form…
I would have procrastinated to do all that shit until at least march, but now I have already been forced to do it, I have all the numbers, and as long as I don’t have a deposit or buy any business related shit, I was ready to do fucking taxes before fucking christmas. That is fucking bogus. Oh well, it’s done. I was also super thorough and honest in giving my future psychic prediction of exactly to the penny what I will be making in 2014 too.
I have always thought it was amazing that psychic accounting will soon become a regular term in our vocabulary, because according to the form I filled out at the state exchange I used, I have to honestly predict my income for next year under threat of fraud and perjury. It’s bad enough I had to do my fucking taxes before christmas, now the assholes are going to threaten me to psychically call to the dead and ask exactly how much my fat porn is going to make next fucking year.
Wow, mood change there! I can bitch and complain about having to figure out taxes to the penny months early, but it is a genuine “first world problem” isn’t it? I mean, the alternate me, on a timeline where I never got that job, would probably not be too worried about being hit up for a mandate tax that he would not have to pay because he would not have an income to pay taxes on. Although, I am curious about the details of that potential alternate reality, like, would I still be liable for a mandate tax even though I did not meet the minimum filing threshold of income. Maybe I didn’t do more research on that detail because I didn’t really want to know, or I just don’t give a fuck because it is so detached from the future that ended up taking place.
Either way, here we are. I am not homeless, and I somehow tricked Candy into coming back willingly. 🙂 I have endured the year 2013 with a local move, and the first year payment to process visa on the websites. That was a lump payment of 750 right there. It does take money to make money indeed. All the while, I was making less than $1000 over what my government declares %100 poverty level. I keep typing that phrase out, because after enduring the alleged hardship of making that income, I still have money in the bank. Am I “poor” because of my income alone when I am still “comfortable” and actually have “savings”?
In fact, I seem to have everything I want and need, and the only pressing things I still really want are not going to cost any money. If one of my final goals is to get a specific certification, it is up to me to make it happen. Money is not an obstacle to education because I would find a cheap way to have someone else pay for it without going into debt. If I want to gain yet another type of certification that I don’t want to get into, there are very defined steps for me to obtain that “license”, and because of the very thing I have been complaining about, I may now start a process that will not even cost anything. I will finally have a “doctor”. That could be scary, because Mark taught me some stuff about handling medicaid doctors too… 🙂
This latest experiment in living just over poverty level has been educational, not only in showing me that I could do it, but also in changing my perception of poverty in general. It is ironic that I chose to sit down and write on christmas day itself, a day which represents a loop of disappointment, resulting charity, disappointment, repeat. As a I phase out and watch local news, a part of me would be involuntarily touched for a moment by the generous act of a charity group handing out toys to poor children.
After a moment, I would realize, that I was just afflicted on a subconscious level by a phenomenon that has been created as a direct result of corporate capitalism and blind consumerism. In other words, if christmas did not exist to begin with, poor children would not be denied that specific positive event, created to raise the bottom line of retailers across the board. There is a desire, as a human, to allow myself to just flow with this feeling of charitable propaganda, because I want to feel for the children, to see them happy. The logical side of my reasoning has to ruin the party though, because I am quickly reminded that this entire system has been created out of a new type of greed and sophisticated marketing and propaganda.
I don’t need all the shit on television, I don’t need this or that specific thing, I have not created a ritual involving this or that over priced “treat”. I have a very short list of very specific things that I would choose to have in my life, but I would let go of those things with little bitterness if my hand was forced and shit got out of control. For example, there does exist a price point where I would say “fuck this, I quit smoking!” While it seems like beer is going up and up, I am fortunate that my prior experimentation has not left me physically dependent, so even if I still enjoy psychological exploration of my intoxicated alter ego, it is not a daily habit, and a habit that can be scaled back to such infrequency that I would begin to miss it altogether, if all the assholes that sold beer passed some price point that I am not quite sure about this second.
The only thing I can’t do without is a person, and I lost her before, over and over. There is no amount of money that could keep her, or lose her. There is only my bad choices that could lose her. I am lucky that one of the only bad choices I have even been tempted by was alcohol, and I am very fortunate that she was able to make a compromise to allow occasional use of a lesser source of this chemical. Trade down from vodka to beer, and attempt to restrict intake to a point that leaves me much less intoxicated than I used to get on vodka. Every once in a while, there is a breach in my own security, and a part of my own self attempt so live dangerously and push my limits. Both with myself, and with her.
I know it is wrong, I know I don’t need it. I know I would always choose her over it. I guess that is where the term “guilty pleasure” comes from. There is a part of me that argues “I’m a grown man, if I want to get really fucked up on some ice beer now and then just cut me some slack!”. It is not that simple though, not nearly. It never is. Compromise is a very delicate and complex thing. Both sides have to give. I am grateful she has bent to the degree that she has, and while there has been one dented wall incident from a thrown mug (not at me thank god), she has shown remarkable restraint when I have chosen to take my ice beer intake one can over the line.
I can’t make excuses, I can’t even really talk to her about it, because it makes her too uncomfortable. I have to assume that I am “alcoholic”, even if I don’t feel like I am. Even if I don’t crave alcohol intoxication every day, or every other day, or I let it slip for 3 or 4 days so my resistance is super low, I still seem to thoroughly enjoy the initial intoxication, and once afflicted, I am driven to push further and further. I think that is called “binge drinking”, but it is nowhere near as severe as my little relationship with vodka was.
I still “use and abuse” alcohol, like some kind of explicit street drug. I deny myself for days, sometimes really just “forgetting to drink”, sometimes getting it while out, knowing that I won’t be running errands for nearly a week and I want to take a little trip to fuzzy reality land just once before I have to go out again. I can’t purchase a “30 pack” because at some point I might allow myself to consume more than 12. If I get a 12 pack, I have to put 6 in the cooler and give Candy the other 6, or I will most probably get up to 10, maybe opening number 11 but not being able to finish it, leaving a sorry sight of 1.5 beer total the day after I got a fucking 12 pack. I could have gotten loaded twice, but instead, 5 beer me said “fuck that shit I want to get fucked up!”
It is hard to figure all this shit out at times, if it’s not one thing it’s another. I felt like writing for a bit, and I came up with the title complexity before I knew for sure i wanted to write about. I didn’t even get into some stuff I was thinking about when I first started, like trying harder to apologize for all my ranting and raving about weight loss surgery. I thought that subject was limited to drunk me being stupid, but it appears that frustrated sober me before mandate compliance was using distraction and misdirection yet again.
If I seem so skilled at tricking myself into this or that behavior, I have come to another theory, about how I may be able to re-align my thinking and goal orientation in such a way where I actually “forget to drink”, or even better, procrastinate from drinking. That’s a thought. I was using alcohol while I was committing the act of procrastination, but maybe, I can turn some shit around so that I am literally too busy with some other shit I would rather be doing to be tempted to take a trip to that place where I hang out with a part of myself that I hate but am fascinated with at the same time.
I wondered myself why I would feel compelled to hyper post all over facebook when intoxicated on alcohol. I would ask myself “who am I talking to?” I think I might kind of be talking to myself there. I have reached some point where I only get loaded about twice a week, the second time is not as severe as the first because I am still dreading the last time. This last time I did it, I noticed something about it that was already turning into a habit, a game that I was playing with myself that I wasn’t fully aware of as I was doing it.
Within 2 days after one of these binges and facebook rants, I would slowly begin to remember things that I would have typed, as well as music and news articles I may have posted. If I posted photos, those will come back to me later too. One of the reasons I avoid facebook after a drunken rant session could be related to this fuzzy memory game I have been playing that I didn’t “remember”. When I use terms like distraction, misdirection, and even regression I might be minimizing the actual phenomenon.
What started out as using alcohol for escapism and avoiding reality has definitely evolved into something else. It is still not habit, it’s not every day, I don’t consume alternate substances not meant for consumption that contain alcohol, and if there was just one beer in the fridge it would not be appealing to me in the least unless I went out and picked up a sufficient amount to “peak”.
It is kind of ironic, that I will take on the responsibility of having a problem with alcohol, but at the same time, I am forced to reconcile with the fact that occasional alcohol intoxication would be acceptable, if it was mild and I didn’t have to push it to the point where I am starting to have trouble walking and typing. Even worse, it would not be so bad if there were not a part of myself that has a limit, but it is a very very high limit. I noticed that I stopped taking diphenhydramine to enhance alcohol altogether, because I literally can’t type at a much lower level of alcohol consumption.
I realize that this problem would not even be as “bad” or unacceptable if it wasn’t compounded by the past trauma and experience of my partner, who resents that fact that she can’t keep multiple forms of alcohol to make cocktails with because I might raid it. She is ok with alcohol consumption, but not alcohol binging. That is very ironic, because she occasionally enjoys a food binge. We have had to fight against co-enabling by making very distinct compromises. The complexity of love… 🙂
I am running out of steam, I don’t know how or why I got over 4500 words, but hey, I won’t be drinking. Not tonight. 🙂
i thought it would be appropriate to take a moment, in the exact moment when ‘the buzz’ hit. just 2 beers would be enough for that tiny, starter buzz on alcohol. oh, it’s sweet. you want to sit back and smile for a second, just taking in the realization that you are lucky enough to be drinking this substance, feeling its effects, and not being fucked with by anything or anyone at any moment.
of course, there is the possibility that Candy might want something, but the probability is low currently because of a recently delivered cup full of green colored lemon lime flavored Kool aid, plus the second half of a huge plate of Panda Express take out that was created earlier today.
i wanted to drunk blog a sec. yeah. fucking yeah! no, not really. it’s not just the beer, the ice beer at %5.9 alcohol, it’s also the ‘spice’. i picked up a variety from a smoke shop that is on Swenson right around the corner. the place across the street has a few varieties, but this one seems to have some kick to it. i wish i knew the exact chemical formulation of each variety that i am so willing to be a test subject for.
Candy should be my ‘drug’. She is, actually. On any given moment, if anything I perceive is ‘wrong’ where to happen, just touching her would immediately bring me to a place where i am solid, resolved, and i can handle any kind of shit i have to in the given moment. i can think of myself as lucky to be granted with that rare opportunity. i get to be around this wonderful person almost all the time. i take a moment, frequently, and remember how lucky i am, for so many reasons.
when i think back to the way i was about 15 years ago, i would say that i was pussy whipped and a virtual slave. now, i have to recognize that because of the unique combination of chemicals released in my human brain while i am around her, most of the time, i can say, as the same ‘person’, over a decade later, that i am lucky and proud to be in the position of being a slave to the most amazing person that i have had the good fortune to have met and been given the opportunity to have and lose so many times in this fleeting thing we call a life bound by the thing we perceive as reality.
run on sentences, i know. maybe i’ll edit later.
i’m laying it on, maybe i should hit ‘the diph’. whoa. diphenhydramine. why give me hydroxyzine when there is already diph? i’m probably spelling it wrong, but the spell check messes up prozac.
i got all juiced up, let myself log in here, and started freaking Depeche Mode Black Celebration entire ‘album’. yeah, those big things. oh god i’m so fucking old. i know, i’m supposed to be ‘positive’, but i keep busting my own balls because i have paved a path of unnoticed injustice and irrelevant malevolence. in this ‘thing’, i can at least call myself an asshole and it might do somebody some good, hopefully me, maybe even someone else.
i’m not going to ‘hit the diph’ tho. as wild as i will let myself run barefoot in the interwebs, i won’t go all crazy and shit. i never did get my nitrous oxide tho… that would be ‘doing it big’ you know. lol that shit is like food related and entheogen related! no way! who cares? cannabis cures cancer! yeah right. who cares? really? anyway… lol no context… it’s so fucked up. at least i can type fuck and not f8ck like i feel compelled in facebook. daring them all the time to delete me while i censor myself. sad. 🙂
i have to put it out there, because i have to say, honestly, if i’m going to be all neutral and shit… there is a lot of shit going on all over the place all over here all the time. as a ‘maybe local’ i need to get my shit together. i also have to say, up front, as much as the asshole who used to write this thing may have talked shit about any kind of attempt to get any social group going, forget all that shit. i think i was playing a character who cared about that shit so much, when he could use it, like any distraction, to avoid his own problems. 🙂 I am fortunate to be able to say that money isn’t an issue to going to this thing or that thing, but the problem is there is ‘everything’. there is also the limitations that i have learned are holding Candy back, and i have learned nearly the exact degree that she may be able to get away with and handle easily.
after all, this woman wanted to move to freaking vegas, she spent 3 days cooped up riding shotgun in the too small cab of a big ass moving van to get there. she did suffer though. either way, she wanted it, she’s got it, and now i got to make this shit happen. i’ve been a lazy fuck. honestly. getting back somehow to a point if there is one because this is admittedly intoxicated writing. we can’t go to ‘everything’. we could go to this and that, but it’s not a big ambition, and there isn’t a big drive inside of us to justify spending the money it would take to even attempt to go to everything. i am ‘here’, so there are probably ways i could contribute to this or that, but i have never put myself out there, and people in those circles do not have incentive to involve just anyone local because of so many people who run cons and shit out here. i think i’ve afflicted Candy with my cheapness too… instead of spending hundreds on this or that thing, she would rather split it up into food frenzies and clothing sprees. she knows i want to blow 300 or so on a ‘quad core 8gb ram 2 terabyte hard drive’ machine that i would build myself for just that much, and she knows that i could afford it but i put it off because i keep getting by with what i have because it works. i kind of want it, but whatever. not many people do that it seems. 🙂
i’ve always been a 20K guy. i’ve had the choice to go higher at times, but in the worlds that i have participated in, from one end of the spectrum to another, i was just more comfortable in that area. kind of sad. but… it lowered the bar on how much i had to make to just sit on my ass and ‘be my own boss’ and all that jazz. 🙂 so… it’s like being ‘poor by choice’ but not really suffering as a result. if anything, we’re not taking advantage of our poorness to the point we could be and it’s not uncomfortable. 🙂
i was lucky that i chose to acquire car repair skills and computer repair skills, because it lent a hand in the situation that i happened to end up in, by choice, or by the sum of several small choices. i could maintain an old piece of shit to the point where i’m not making payments, only paying liability insurance, and whatever seems to go wrong by will of god or fate has not prevented me from fixing it so i can keep driving it.
i don’t have to make a lot, and so therefore, i choose not to, and now, of course, the additional incentive of ‘affordable care act’ is quite attractive. 🙂 i used to criticize this stuff, and now i’m like “bring it on! where’s my free shit?” i’m legit. i pay my taxes, i’m part of the ‘working poor’ even if i’m ‘self employed’. 🙂 fucking reality. gotta love it. i had to switch over from depeche mode to duran duran, namesake album, entire album. ‘anyone out there?’
this blog would come into being shortly after the announcement of the ‘end obesity in a generation’ campaign. i don’t have the credentials, but i would love to have offered several opportunities to get to the bottom of this whole ‘obesity thing’. 🙂 for example, my desire to get access to an entire group of ‘super morbidly obese’ individuals in a MRI session that could accommodate them, to further explore the potential neurological links between them in order to find the ‘common thread’ that is so important in finding an eventual resolution.
yes… the answer… a resolution… now… think about that for a second… big food…. food inc… they might not be too happy with all of that. they are an ‘ally’ in the way that they are the only force that stands in the way of full out war on anything with the ‘obesity’ tag associated with it. obesity is the enemy! obesity is fatal! obesity is the devil! omfg who do we burn first? hahahaha
we can’t just ‘solve obesity’ in the sense that we can keep over consuming mass quantities of shit that is obviously not good for us. it’s sold to us every two to three minutes on all cable networks twenty four hours a day seven days a week. fucking right we have marketing dominance. hire billy mayes, wait, he’s dead, the austrailian guy… whoever… 🙂 we can’t eat as much as we want as often as we want and sit around without a consequence. that’s part of ‘the balance’. if we could ‘solve obesity’ in one swipe, then america and china would starve the rest of the world immediately.
so then… it’s the compulsion to eat mass quantities. wonder why? i’m sure that all of the neurologically sensitive ingredients like MSG don’t have anything to do with it, or AD-36 the ‘fat virus’, or genetic tendency towards obesity when the mother is obese while pregnant… Maybe the fact that we are raised generation after generation with more and more convenience and a lack of physical activity. If I dare to mention ‘the balance’ then i have to take many more variables into consideration for meaningful insight. the balance would dictate that obesity is a future consequence, not an epidemic.
forget all of that… personal responsibility! willpower! your a failure! buy this! buy that! lol that’s what it’s all about, the hustle… capitalism, glorious capitalism. i lick the tip of your powerful, glowing, pulsating cock every day! you are my god, in you i trust! lol weird… make a note. it’s like i’m obligated. while i ‘own the name’ obesiverse, i am the god of obesiverse. i am, therefore, ‘obesiverse’. while i may not value the essence of what i have created over time, i can’t deny the fact that it did penetrate certain areas of interest because of it’s absolute literary insanity.
if you were given the opportunity to just ‘switch’, with an alternate personality, that was only slightly different, would you do it for the sake of helping not only yourself, but those around you who were just generally ‘good’ and ‘cool’? freaking five year thing. hard to describe. it’s not even fucking on time, fucking actual ‘b day’ is still far off, but not really, because time is relative, and i seem to enjoy experimenting in tricks that make time go by faster, or slower, or ‘not at all’?
all of the output, of the blog, in the past, might have been a way to create an entire alternative reality, and then, like some ‘god’, destroy it. entirely. anything looking back would become a pillar of salt like biblical stuff that i don’t want to research in this moment. i may have created it, as i had pondered, just to destroy it.
before being all deep, it’s actually just a matter of domain renewal. the second somebody doesn’t keep up with that shit it’s over with. it’s not like i can’t pay the $12 a year, it’s like, do i ‘want’ to pay it and keep this name around? this ‘name’… this ‘character’, that at times i think i would hate right now… hmmm… i’m laughing right now, but i stopped the music because Candy reminded me i should be doing something else. 🙂
it’s so funny, just to me, maybe… maybe… 😉 there is no fucking context! i’m locked in here with the 2D thing or something. omfg i’ll probably want to delete it. maybe not, it might be funny. 🙂
man, inxs kick full album kicks ass… the mood has passed, and i’m over 2000 words yet again… 🙂
This ‘character’ obesiverse had manifested itself within the minds of a few people, to the extent of being called upon to hopefully provide some degree of entertainment and information in recent social interaction. I think it’s ‘cool’ in a way, but at the same time, I face an irony in the way that I made some small attempt to partially destroy the character by removing so much ‘stuff’ from this thing recently.
There has been yet another shift in my thinking, major only to me, and the change to this blog was only a small surreal gesture in a much larger attempt to be more positive, a little more social, more aware and respectful of other people’s feelings, more aware of ‘self’, and of course, much more aware of the emotional state of the one person on this planet that has inspired what I believe is ‘growth’ in me.
I am not always able to observe things that are obvious to some people, and at the same time, I can sometimes see things that others will purposely block out in order to enjoy the moment, or maintain a status quo. I know that in the past I would rant and rave about the right to exist at any size, and how society should chill out about the obesity issue, because it is internal and personal, and there is no way to shame or bully anyone into making positive change in their life.
Before moving to Vegas, maybe around the time that I started writing this thing, I believe I was having some real issues myself. This would be obvious to anyone who witnessed my bad behavior in the time that Candy and I were separated and it could be even more obvious in the way that Candy and I get along so good now, even though we did spend nearly a year apart over a two year period.
When Candy came back the last time, my decision to drop hard alcohol was a major factor. While it would be easy to assume alcohol was the main problem in the relationship, it actually wasn’t. It was a mere symptom, which was being used on my side improperly, and interpreted from her side with an extreme bias based on her past. Alcohol appeared to be a ‘central issue’, but in reality, it wasn’t. The main issue was the mere realization on both sides of how it would contribute to the much larger relationship areas of communication and mutual understanding. I would be forced to compromise ‘the ego’ at times in order to retain balance and try to reinforce a positive atmosphere. If I didn’t have that ability, I didn’t have the right to assume I could change myself, or participate in another human’s efforts to change themselves. I needed to take responsibility, and it’s weird the way it works out in time itself.
I was being immature, disrespectful, and blind to Candy’s feelings about alcohol, and I used it more regularly than I had to because of some stubborn need to ‘get what I want’ at the cost of causing her emotional discomfort. As I write it out, it seems almost too simple to me, and I wish I could have reached this current frame of mind a lot sooner than I did. If I had the ability to explore Candy’s emotional landscape with more efficiency and consideration, I could have gone the past two years without seeing Candy leave at all, much less twice.
Even as I bring that up, I’m forced to reconcile my own temporary emotional downturn in trying to be more ‘acceptable’ and remove all legal liability by switching over from regular use of weed to alcohol… Addiction transfer was all too easy for me, but the worst mistake I ever attempted in my life. That one even outweighs the entire Florida thing, by far, because I have long tried to take responsibility in all of that too.
Way back, when I walked away and left all of it behind, I didn’t realize that it would be a way for me to stop fighting and stop denying the ways in which I was wrong, or misrepresented myself, or agreed to things that I was in no way ready to handle. I’ll even go further and mention that all of my prior ranting about Alexis fails to take into account my own inability to recognize her specific needs at the time. By leaving it behind, I think I was giving it all to her because as hard as it was, and as angry as I was at her, I was the one fucking up because of the way I behaved. I was in those crazy early 30’s… Oh time is cruel.
As I hung out at a small gathering that I was privileged to be a part of, Candy would get to enjoy several small yet incredibly meaningful exchanges, and I did as well. It was uplifting and inspirational to hear one woman’s story, and I can appreciate the amazing parallels that were brought up. I am also grateful for the opportunity to see who ever would have happened to drop by the room ‘brother B’ was hanging out in for several hours on that afternoon and evening.
The fact that such special circumstances had to occur to get Candy out of the apartment was amazing. Considering how it has been difficult for her to maintain an aggressive pursuit of mere residency and medical requirements, I was glad to see her finally get out of the house to see a different group of people besides myself! While I would easily get greedy for some kind of regular interaction on that level, it’s still more than Candy can handle currently, and I am feeling the pressure of not taking care of business and pushing harder myself for her to get paperwork straightened out and doctors already lined up.
It’s not like ‘super morbid obesity’ on it’s own is destroying Candy physically as much as a few very specific conditions, and it’s a kick to the ass to imagine that one hormone condition actually contributes in some way to her size as well. Such a fucked up, misunderstood thing, even by me, or especially by me. I could have pushed harder, and should have, as much as Candy might have objected or pushed back when it came to getting her back at that freaking DMV to get the ID. Since before even moving here, Candy has been my first priority, and it was her choices and decisions that brought us both to where we are right now. Sometimes I need to recognize when she is not making choices that are good for her and I need to step in, even as I try to have respect, understanding, and support for her limitations and boundaries.
Getting the ID was such a small first step. Finding the right primary physician, even if she might decide to move to another state yet again eventually, is vital at this point. The ID was just a small part of a bigger process that has gone months undone, and it’s horrible for me to remember how I complained about someone else not encouraging Candy harder in the past.
My awkward attempts to get Candy out of the house in some social context was almost an exercise in denial myself. If it was so difficult for her to get to one government office, it was not going to be physically easy to do something as simple as ‘go to a bar’. It was difficult for me to put it into context, because so many other people do it, but I am made aware of a new urgency to take care of business and get simple paperwork issues under control. I always told Candy from ten year ago that letting shit slide will bust your balls later. That’s why I’m eager to do my full audit, and I’m amazed at this very procrastination of thought organization as I let Candy sleep off a physical soreness that I know I can’t fully understand or appreciate.
I want to be diurnal! Not really. Oh, it’s unacceptable, I have let myself go and could be huge myself. But, the drive isn’t there, the ‘hunger’ isn’t there. I can selfishly over-indulge in a wide assortment of different legitimately prescribed pharma based products, over the counter antihistamines, cannabinoid receptor agonist analogs otherwise known as ‘spice’, and then say ‘ok a little alcohol’. Probably ten years ago and then several years after that, I obtained and maintained a prescription for viagra, and I laugh at the irony that I never would have to use it with Candy. 🙂 I had recreational interests that involved being lucky enough to repeatedly end up in situations where I was filming myself with people who knew full well I was doing it and even signed a release! 🙂 Oh the time does fly… 🙂
I haven’t gone to the effort, but I found a small shop next to the post office that even has the whipped cream dispensers with nitrous oxide canisters that can make home made whipped cream and also make you really high for about 30 seconds. It’s fun, been there done that, really a nice trip occasionally, but still very limited. All of that fond talk about my own draw towards intoxication are related to it being the last great frontier of personal growth and development. By not spending as much time ‘experimenting’, I can actually be more productive in this reality, where people have to do things like renew their ID, go to doctors, and make sure that the essentials are maintained by actually being productive. 🙂
A little thing like my effort to draw Candy out, and then the get together at a hotel where a bbw party was going on, were extremely educational to me in terms of recognizing Candy’s limitations, and the urgency in taking care of business so that I can further hope to inspire a greater degree of seriousness when it comes to getting her weight under control first, and then going downward without great effort or psychological turmoil. The last few issues I have with self control can be put into context better by watching how it could be effecting her. I could fear for a moment that the last break up was even a subconscious attempt to drive her away because I felt that I was a bad influence because of enabling or whatever.
I ended up hanging out with a real ball buster for a while when Candy was gone last time, and I thought about it, how one lazy or crazy person needs another highly responsible, stable person right there to pick up the slack. I know that Candy would not be offended if I refer to her as the ‘crazy one’ now and I have to be the one who is stable, in control, and able to not only handle assisting Candy in taking care of her business, but pushing and encouraging it. Again, within certain limitations.
All this thought coming from the fact that I realized Candy was ok in a hotel room hanging out with people, but even that had it’s limitations. The realization that I had to help Candy out in the bathroom with just getting undressed because of what she was wearing was a big wake up for me. The fact that she was nervous about even going and wanted to get up early to make sure she would not be late because of how long it would take her to ‘get her ass in gear’ should be another wake up.
I can’t let my own selfish desires to maintain a physical social connection to the real world overshadow the importance of helping Candy to finish urgent paperwork. I don’t have the same motivations and inspirations that some might, because I am still so amazed to have Candy back that I can’t begin to imagine what it would even feel like to be tempted physically by another female. 🙂 At the same time, it’s amazing and intriguing to have opportunities to talk with people besides Candy, and I’m sure she feels even more strongly about having opportunities to talk to people besides me! 🙂
I am almost compelled to write a note to one woman who suggested coming out to one bar party, because I wanted to make her aware that I wasn’t thinking of Candy’s limitations before I suggested going or asked her about going to that get together. It’s like, I made a small comment somewhere buried in the party page, and the mere potential created a whole new perspective for me.
It would end up being somewhat ‘creepy’ and not make any sense to her for me to thank her for the suggestion, because it brought about further thought in myself, and prepared me for supporting Candy in a much more neutral and ‘smaller’ environment. In turn, that smaller get together made me even further aware of why Candy is having a difficult time and I need to help her get back on track to regular doctor visits to maybe finally help those few specific things that make her already difficult physical size even harder on her, especially in social environments.
It’s going to take some work to get Candy’s health better sorted out before I imagine or think of doing things like that. It might be of interest to us, and it might even be good for her, but right now, I have to listen to her when she occasionally breaks down because she remembers what it was like to be able to physically participate more and she really wants to go, but feels self conscious now because of those limitations.
Maybe there are times I miss being ‘out there’ as I was so regularly in the past. Being in Vegas provides constant temptation out there, always something going on in each and every single sub culture you can possibly imagine. I didn’t come here for all of that though, I came here for her, so now I have to buckle down and make shit happen like I used to do so easily and effortlessly.
I have not only been too lazy when it came to the apartment, but I was being too lazy with Candy’s very health and well being. It’s not like I was refusing to take her, she just didn’t want to go, and I would bring it up and she would push it off. It happened last week, but again, this outing better showed both of us the urgency now. Maybe that’s what I was trying to make happen with the bar thing. If I talked her into going, even if just for 2 hours or so, she would be reminded of her current limitations to the degree and extent that she would want to overcome any anxiety for the sake of getting that ID.
There were 2 efforts made, after all, getting the ID should be simple when your going in with a current ID from another state and an old, expired ID from the very state you are getting a new ID in right then and there. No, that’s not going to happen this time in Vegas. 🙂 Last time we were here, the DMV was a one time quick stop, transferred Candy, the car, and I over to being new residents of the ‘silver state’. Not this fucking time. No way buddy. 🙂
Hey, I should be grateful in a way, leaving the DMV on the second attempt there was a minor accident where some guy hit my back bumper and I felt gracious because there was no light damage and let him go. It also happened to help me finally fix an electrical problem that I should have corrected previously, but didn’t try before the tap to the back finally shook it loose enough to require being physically ‘touched’, or pulled loose totally and re-seated.
Nothing bad has happened without something equally good or even a little better. There has been nothing to complain about, everything has been so perfect, but it has all been in this tiny little world inside of the one bedroom apartment. It’s been almost too comfortable, too easy, and putting off the DMV errand was too easy… “Normal” people would be like “what the fuck?”, but I have to remind those fortunate ones that some of us have to work hard at coming close to what most would consider ‘normal’. 🙂
I have broken the 2000 word barrier! lol I’m going to actually post this one instead of deleting it. It turns out, if I think I got too negative, too personal, or too dumb in the post I would just delete it entirely. I guess I can still have fun with this, it’s got to come in handy sooner or later. 🙂 It’s ‘obesiverse’ after all, so maybe my stories and observations actually could help other people who are stuck in the same time traps of convenience and status quo that I’ve been letting myself get caught in for, what, eight freaking months…
Maybe I can make new observations that help eventually lead to use of MRI to find a common neurological thread among those of us who are ‘super morbidly obese’, giving us a new tool in trying to figure out this magical, mystical, undeniably magnetic phenomenon of obesity. It is a powerful thing, it is almost a force all on it’s own. It is a human adaptation to store energy for use at a later time when energy sources may not be available. I did have a lot of crazy theories and ideas before this new version of obesiverse, but my issue was ‘delivery’. 🙂
Oh, and I do need to give myself a kick in the ass for doing more updates to the website and clip store! So, I have even been lazy in the one area that is financially beneficial and positive in the way that it provides entertainment through observation of the force ‘obesity’ that I let myself get all stuck on for a moment there. 🙂
While the text is gone, I have to sift through the images and adjust descriptions. I nearly want to delete half of them, but for whatever reason, they were in the images section, and I didn’t want to remove them. They’ll run out eventually. 🙂