Thursday, March 18, 2010 2:48 AM

So, I just wrote a complaint to blogger.com on their FTP migration tool:

Reported by awbvious, Today (moments ago)

I no longer wish to use your service. I asked my friend who hosts me if
there was any reason I shouldn't change my DNS to let you guys host my
blog. He said there were. That is good enough for me. I may have been
one in twenty. But you have lost at least one in twenty.

Regardless, I started the FTP migration tool and when it got to the point
where it said change the DNS, that's when I contacted my friend. So, I
figure, oh well, I can stop the migration now, and at least make one last
post to let my "audience" know that I'm not using Blogger (and by extension
google) any more.

But no. I tried to publish and it thinks I want to use your Custom Domains
"stuff" (using euphemism here). I can't publish. So I tried to "cancel."
No cancel button. I tried to go "back" in the process, can't go back any
further and I still can't FTP in. You said until May 1, it is currently
March 18th. So, I tried to click on "manual migration" thinking that might
offer me a way to cancel. But no, instead it just says "congratulations"
and expects me to have changed my DNS. So, you need to restart my FTP
because that was really dirty of y'all to make it so I couldn't back out of
my migration. I really don't think you guys didn't test it enough to
realize that people wouldn't get out of it easily.

And stuff like this just confirms what my friend said, and why I am no
longer using blogger. Please do the right thing and re-enable my FTP (or
tell me how it can be done) so I can post my final blog message and direct
everyone to http://www.awbvious.com/thegreenroom.htm#recent it's old and
soon to be new home. Thank you.

awbvious
awbvious@awbvious.com

https://code.google.com/p/blogger-ftp-migration-tracker/issues/detail?id=289

Anyway, that's what I just posted.  HERE'S THE POST I WOULD HAVE (why am I shouting...)  The post I would have put on http://www.awbvious.com/blog.html :

Ah, tis a shame... But in the end, I had to go with the advice of a good friend--unless conspiracy theories are true, and this friend never contacted me--and not use your service any more. And by service, I mean your nice little blogging web application with it's wonderful interface... You won't allow FTP publishing anymore. Meaning I have to register my DNS with you guys. I of course ask my friend what I should do as I am in the lucky position of having a friend who is very wise in such matters in charge of such matters (and, might i add, at no cost to me, except the usual cost of friendship, which as we all know, is worth any inconvenience).

I asked him:

awbvious: yo, google/blogger wants me to migrate my blog from your server to theirs, as they are giving up FTP (http://blogger-ftp.blogspot.com/). Two questions. One, is there any reason I might not want to do this, and in fact use an alternative (like wordpress.org). Or two should I (you) add a CNAME to the DNS, with a subdomain (like blog.awbvious.com) http://www.google.com/support/blogger/bin/answer.py?answer=55373

awbvious: by the way wordpress.org's five minute install is complete bullshit. http://codex.wordpress.org/Installing_WordPress If /you/ can do it in five minutes, then I would very much appreciate it, and I would take care of it from there. Thanks.

HIM (aka jake) The answers are yes and no

awbvious: I will assume you mean that relatively. And that I should use an alternative. I'm curious as to your reasons though. Perhaps I should start a thread on G&Gs, but I'm afraid I'm already monopolizing the board. The least geeky (perhaps) person should not be starting the most post on geeks and gadgets--else it becomes a bit of a tech support forum. But, then again, I'm the only "writer" so it makes sense I post the most second to the admin (whoever that freak is--1835 posts!--aw, I have 1338 posts, if I had paid attention, I could have made 1337 my "leet" post).

Notice it is a very general response. Not very specific, easily, dare i say, fabricated? Ah, perhaps the fact that I have caught them led to tonight's debaucle, which was quite entertaining.

Let me lay the scene for you. I'm at work, trying to do work, but I have nothing pressing on me right now, so I am, of course, easily distracted. I write some emails that I can (kinda) consider work related, in that they have to do with writing, and my classes. I finish that and think, fuck, it is saint patrick's day, I should be "celebrating my heritage."

So, I call up my friend, who I have psuedonymed here as.... Hess. I call up Hess and I say, what's up. Note: I have known Hess less than three years, which makes him B.C. (Before Contract)... Wait the other way... A.D. (After Debaucle).

Anyway, he says not much, and I ask him what he's doing for st. patty's day. He says not much, cruise on by the pad... so, I did. I had no other good plans. My sis kinda asked me what I wanted to do for St. Patrick's day, and there was this other friend, but I'm not seeing her until Friday. So, basically, I had no one to hang out with, and he's a fucking cool guy. So, I call him up, turns out he's got family shit going on, serious family shit. Like, gotta be the good friend this is the time kind of shit. So, I tried to be.

He says, meet me later, I'm leaving (family shit, censored). I go to meet him later, I call to say I'm in the area, he says, meet at this bar. (Again, a less than three year relationship. I have been to this bar three times, in the last few months. And, one must consider, I've known Hess only through the bar I've also discovered only in the last three years. I have no connections to him B.C.--but let's not got too paranoid, people might get hurt unintentionally.)

So, I go to the bar, I stop the car and I write in my notebook a thought that had been jumbling around in my brain as I was singing along to the music in my car. What was it...

"Delusions are a need for faith. Rational mind takes it out of whatever part of mind is relegated to 'faith' in an atheist."

Let me explain. I live a double life. Every experience I have, I have on two levels. One, in which I am the subject of a reality show (if not the main attraction, part of). Or two, in which I am a normal guy, who's a bit bright, but socially inept, and has a delusion.

But how can we call it a delusion, when merely it is an imagination for possibilities? What I imagine is improbable, and thus I never act with it as the first reality, the one I must instinctively respond to. Instead, I think, okay, this is a real person talking to me, not one to play a role, his motives are as completely translucent as mine.

The fact is, and I said this in the car, after I left Hess' place: I would act the same regardless of the realities. I would still be courtious, friendly, caring, all that christian bullshit--and I use the term flippantly, which is the only way one should with such a weighty term. Bullshit, of course.

Like, maybe Hess really doesn't have the personal shit going on, maybe it's an act, maybe he's an actor, maybe he's a famous musician who was supposed to cameo, but then I ended up talking to him and a report started, and they made him part of the "cast." I don't fucking know. This, of course, brings me back to the faith part.

As you see, in my delusional world, which has it's own rules and physical limitations, it is a very solid world, for I think of how it could be done, and I don't think I'm too far off from what I've seen in media. In my delusional world, he's part of a system, a system that is smarter than me, as it has more people working on it, even if I'm a genius, the fact is, there are far more people who will collectively be smarter than me.

I will never be one step ahead of them, I can theorize and philosophize all I want, but, according to this fantasy world I have created, they will always be smarter and able to predict my deduction and observation skills. In this world where the people making money off of me are making so much money, they can afford to have a cadre of say... Tech people. They could have maybe 12 people devoted just to making sure I don't use the computer in any way to destroy their artifice.

They watch my every screen movement. Because even as I get as smart as I do about rootkits and all that jive, they are still smarter than me. They know shit that only the government knows, but they know even more, because they got money on their side. Yes, almighty dollar. That's what is about to bring me to what happened at the bar.

But wait, anyway, these internet people control everything i see in the computer. The other people control everything I read in the newspaper. Other people control what I see on TV (notes that Hess' TV wasn't working--too much work? Not enough people?). It's all compartmentalized and divison-of-labor and all that shit. It's a careful working machine. It controls all my inputs, it knows my outputs. It is better than big brother could ever be, because they are apparently "on my side." Whatever that means. And no, I don't know what that means.

I'll tell you the same thing I said in my car, after the bar, and before I returned to Hess' place. (After Hess' place I went home, because I was about to ask another 3-year B.C. chick to come over, but he was having aforementioned family issues.) Anyway, I said aloud, "yeah I know what it was with that guy, what he get..."

(I'm paraphrasing this, I do not remember my actual words.)

"Four figures? Five figures? He was smart, he pushed it to the edge, but didn't go over. He made you sweat. He danced around the idea of being part of a reality show, but didn't say the actual words. Because he knew that once he did, it would be like a swat team descending on the scene. Immediately dozens of people would rush into the area and 'secure' it. No one would be able to get in or out. But it would be okay, as everyone near by would probably be "on the team." A la, the police drama shows where they have the good guys swoop in on the person, but it's no big deal since everyone else in the bar is a cop?

"Anyway,--" And I'm totally paraphrasing this shit, I didn't say half of it, but the meaning was the same, "he was smart he didn't let the whole deal slip, because once he did, it would be all over for him, they would have him out of the area in seconds. Whisk. Gone. Never to be seen again. (By me.) As he will have been paid a very large amount of money to never speak about it again. Yes, a non-disclosure agreement. So, if you hear about this guy, and suddenly he 'can't talk about it' any more. You know why. It's because he made bank. And what if the swat team did descend? Would I flip out? What would I say? I'd say where's my mother fucking check!"

That last sentence, I definitely did say. I was sure to punctuate it with a statement that I put up with that kind of shit only if there is pay off for me. Because as far as artistic outlets are concerned... I got plenty. I got the internet, I got my music, I can reach as many people as I want to, the only limitation is my ability. But as far as money is concerned... Well, I'm strapped. I'm no good at money. I am an artist, not a money guy.

So, I'm willing to put up with a lot of shit if it will make me money in the long term. Otherwise, I'm just a fuck-up with a liberal arts degree (soon two of them) and a delusional spell and basically no hopes of making more than 5 figures a year my entire life. Let's be honest. But, should such crazy theories be true, and I am the object of attention, then yes, I will make a lot more money. I will likely see 6 figures. I am an idiot when it comes to money, but even I will be able to make some money off this once it "breaks."

That day when the facade comes down. And there's the big "reveal." But again, it is like faith, we never expect God to come down and show us he is here. Once God is gone, who do we believe in? Why not something wonderful, and a little scary, and it entertains my mind, and heck, it might even make me more biological viable (in relation to my genes surviving).

Okay, I am getting tired, and, as I said in the car once I got home, no matter what happened tonight, it's still the smart thing to go to sleep, and get up, and go to work tomorrow. Since I have nothing as definitive as a camera in my face, and until that happens, how can I dispute the existence of God?

Because look at this guy who talked to me at the bar. The one who may have made five figures tonight. The guy who I swore talked to me as a confidant in a grand and exuberant game. One in which we both almost instinctively knew the rules. And we talked in that way of guessing and second guessing each others moves like a game of chess, or some dialog from the tv show house (one of the few shows I'll admit watching--and yes in Reality #2, which is what I'm going to call it from now on, in #2 they are changing their scripts because they are fans of me watching them and being fans of them).

Anyway, this guy only started talking after I got to the bar. You see, like I said, I had talked to Hess after I got done with work. I took a little longer than usual because I went to Wendy's and has some meal and checked out some ... /probably/ jail bait. She could have been as old as 24 though. Honestly. I did not know, and I only looked at her. But she was fine.

Anyway, she might have recognized me and was attracted to my fame. Anyway.

I left work later than I told him. I got to around his house, and got some gas. I called him, "yo, I'm nearby, I'm at [cross-streets]." Him, "yo, check it out [family shit]." Me, "fuck, I guess I'll drive around or waste time for 45 minutes." Him, "naw come down to this [3-year-B.C.] bar." "Cool." (Already I was thinking he has family shit, if #1, I want to do whatever he wants, if #2, he's pretty fucking desperate to use that shit, I will play along.

Anyway, I get to the bar, after getting lost. I drove around the area a little bit, and saw the people crowded outside the bars for saint patrick's day. I was driving with my window down (and the recorder going, of course). I got to the bar, wrote down my idea about delusions=faith and then went inside. Actually, before I went inside, I waited at the doorway, and listened to the music.

As I said in the car (and yes, I do say a lot more things in the car than I care to admit usually, but hey, this is the last post of this board--after this I'm returning to thegreenroom. Besides this is all about "recovering from addiction"--that's the old mentality. The, hate myself, and I'm doing something wrong mentality. The, as long as my mom frowns on it, it must be wrong, mentality. Now I am of the, fuck, don't get me started on why mentality. I got carded. I mean, I got the I.D.--I'm in the system. I'm now known in certain places as being a smoker of certain substances for certain medicinal values.

I'm over fucking feeling like an "addict" just because I do something that makes me feel good, on a responsible basis.

Anyway, enough about that, it makes me angry.

"They got a war on drugs so the police can bother /me/?"

Anyway, I said in my car, this place better have good music... Or maybe I said that about Wendy's earlier in the day... And that I would have said in my office (again, no place is isolated from #2, and thus I'd take an opportunity out of ear-shot of anyone to acknowledge #2). Anyway, forget what I may have said in the car, I said when I was outside the bar, "modern music." Actually I muttered it. Because that's what I heard, and that means I probably wasn't going to have a good time. But hey.

I go in, and yes, there are women in bikini's. It is a bikini bar. I'd never been to one before this bar (again, only been at it 3 times). I've been to strip clubs, rare occasions, bachelor parties, rites of passage, that's pretty much it. But never a bikini bar, it was a trip then, and it was a trip tonight also.

Anyway, I walk in, and I immediately think, what do I want, I want to drink, where should I go? The bar. Should I stand between some people or should I get a nice cozy seat so I won't have to be all awkward and close to people? I'll get a seat. I go to the bar, and person, empty seat, person, empty seat, person, empty seat, person, empty seat, person, empty seat, empty seat, empty seat. So, of course, I go to the end of the bar where there is an empty seat offering me a buffer on both sides.

So I go there, and I sit down, not realizing there is a glass of green beer in front of me. Then I think, well, maybe this beer is for all the patrons, as kind of like "welcome, start drinkin'!" kind of thing. But I can't be sure. And there's this guy (person in "person, empty seat, empty seat, empty seat"). Well, normally I do not talk to people. We all know that. But I did not want to take someone's spot. Especially since it was near the door, and people smoked right there, as I have in the past. So, I said, innocently.

"Is someone sitting here?" He was kind of surprised. Fuck, he's talking to me? Reality #1 is he flirting with me? Reality #2 is he on to me, as I am part of the conspiracy machine? So, we have an awkward conversation. He tells me that there are people sitting there, but they "wouldn't mind."

So, I keep my seat, and order from the /very/ attractive bartenders. And, the guys from outside come in. They look like older guys. Could be hippy era. So, boom, I immediately wonder if they are FOM (Famous Old Musicians). As oppose to when I see, well, african american, some latino, but mostly african americans of any age, then I think boom, FOOCM (Famous Old Or Current Musician). Anyway. They seem amicable. I have a conversation with one that suggests he is a local, as does my conversation with the other.

The one with the other seemed very innocent to me. We were talking about the benefits of nipple versus skin. That is to say, we were commenting on the bikinis the girls were wearing. He was arguing that it would be better if they wore T-Shirts, no, tank tops, with no bra. The main point, no bra. So you would have nipple action. And then we got down to the primal level, and I had to agree toward the end, he was convincing me that while I was seeing more skin with the bikini girls ("I could see that on the beach" he correctly says) I wasn't seeing any nipple, and that would have waaaaay more excited me. He said like nearly see-through. I was like, where you can see all the contours. Then I believe we both started salivating.

Anyway, that was that, he went to the bathroom. I had another shot, then decided I wanted to smoke a cigar. No, wait, I wanted to hit on some girls. I asked the bartender "hey, there's only two chicks here that are near my age, do you know if either of them are attached?" She, coyly, and in a way that was quite fetching in a revealing bikini "no, but maybe you should ask them." So, again, as I was drinking and thus a bit out of my social anxiety zone (which just makes things easier for Reality #2), I went up to the chicks and said...

"Are you alone?" (No response.) "Are you with somebody?" (I'm realizing this is coming off awkward, totally should have warmed into this.) "What?" "I mean, are you single? Either of you?" (The girl I'm not talking to looks vacantly.) "No, we're not single, either of us." And with that I thanked them very much and walked dejectedly toward the outer area where people smoke cigarettes (and perhaps other things--as per one of my previous experiences there). (Note, I haven't known any so friendly to herb B.C. bars... No, wait, there was the... I almost said what the name of the bar was, shame on me, but it was in San Diego.) Anyway.

I went out to that area also because as I was writing faith=delusions I saw a hot chick out there. But she might have been pushed out as she wasn't "in on it" and it was all #2. Oh yes, I have these thoughts ALL the time, I live constantly in these two realities, it never goes away. Even when I'm alone. The only thing that changes is my acceptance and feelings toward it.

Anyway, I go out there. No hot chick. But I sit down, and the guy who talked to me about nipples versus skin comes out. And I ask him if he smokes. He didn't, I don't think, and was partly involved in getting a frankfurter or some kind of thing (they were giving them away free outside the bar in this little alcove). Anyway, we talked, and as we did, there were two guys, both blond, one kinda looked like Rick Ashley or the guy from some cheesy kung-fu straight to video film that I must have seen when I was high. (Haven't actually seen the Rick Ashley, if that's his name, video yet.)

They were kinda minding their own business, or maybe they were watching me and nipple guy. But I didn't notice them. Suddenly, a guy outside the alcove (there's a kind of wire fence that is partly see through) starts calling Steve or Kevin or whatever bland motherfucking name that guy had. Anyway, Rick Ashley seems to recognize that name, and he gets pulled by his friend, kind of brusquely to the door to the outside of the alcove. He looks a bit stunned, I'm not exactly sure what is going on, and this guy keeps calling him, and they all leave.

After that, nipple guy says. And I swear to fucking god or anyone you want me to, this is what I think he says:

"What? Didn't they have enough extras?"

I'm pretty damn sure he said that. He might have said something something something extras. All I know for sure was the word "extras." Definitely heard the word extras. And I definitely saw the guy behind the bratwurst dispensing table give a look of panic and look directly and expectantly at me. And then back at the guy. And then, suddenly, they left into the bar.

Okay. I say. (Internally.) That's kind of weird. Shit like that happens all the time, I over hear someone say something that suggests I'm part of a reality show (there was the guy on Main who looked crazy and said to another guy who was enjoying my music "don't let on, if he heard you sing, he'd know who you were"--there was the kids outside the health food store "i wonder what it would be like if I was the star of a reality show"--shit like that). So, I dismiss it. But I still say aloud, "he did say 'extras.' "

Think nothing of it, and smoke more of my Black and Mild.

Suddenly a guy comes through the door. Looks like Elvis Costello meets Billy Joel meets someone Middle Eastern. No clue whatsoever he could be, if he was FuhCuhMuh, A famous contemporary musician. Anyway. (And yes, I should title this post "Anyway.")

Anyway, this guy is a fucking trip. He is beyond any guy I've ever known who might have been in "the game." This guy was using it to the fucking max. He was clearly good at acting, whether that was his profession or not, reminded me of when I was on Hollywood Blvd and someone who looked like Al Pacino asked me who discovered America (I said he looked like Al Pacino, he thanked me for the compliment).

This guy was fucking insane. But smart. But insanely smart. The only way the conversation could make any sense is if we were both talking obliquely about a reality show. Or at least some kind of vast conspiracy involving surveillance. It was strange, he even had props. He took some money, and he lit it on fire, and then he pretended to "smoke" it. Playing along, I asked him for a hit, and said it was some good shit.

I'm telling you: a trip. I can't remember all the conversation. But it was like talking to a KGB agent of 50 years. The guy was all about, "yeah, well, 'they' don't want it to escalate, or want me to do what I want to do, because you know what would happen, I mean, they could pay me enough, but I don't care about the money, see, I burn it up, I don't play by their rules, so they will need to get rid of me, it's all a big... ... Hey man, see, I'm a democrat, fuck republicans. Naw man, I'm a republican..." Suddenly his stuff which all very abstract seemed to have some kind of artifice to it kind of degraded.

But I was determined to keep him on this two level conversation. The kind I was reading about in Invisible Man. It was, indeed, just like the conversation in (what was it, chapter 4?) which the old vet talks to anonymous narrator and white trustee. He tells them that it's all a game, and that the white trustee wants to believe what he wants, and the narrator wants to believe what he wants, but the reality is x y and z. And it's very compelling but all draped in metaphors and hisotorical allusions.

I mean, for christ sake, we started talking about the damn crusades. Somehow it got into a whole muslim versus judeo-christian (or anglo saxon) or something jive. And how the game, as he was referring to it, goes that deep. I was finally lost. I couldn't understand how his ethnicity, unless he was telling me that his ethnicity was part of make-up, and he wasn't that ethnicity at all... I just didn't understand, so I let him talk.

A few people came and tried to distract us. And he even said to the couple who sat down near by "like them, they're in on it, but they're just like the rest of us, we're not rich bro..." And then he went into money things. But he definitely acted like they were part of the conspiracy, and they looked guilty... If they were or not, that's beside the point.

People tried to distract us, a guy came by rolling a jay, and you can bet I would have asked to hit it, but he must have realized I was caught up in this conversation with Elvis Joel Abdul. He vaporized. This conversation was a trip. A fucking trip, and there is only /one/ possible explanation, besides #2. Namely, that he was delusional as well.

And when I got home, and looked to see what kind of corned beef goodness my mother had left for me in the kitchen it struck me. He was muslim! Or muslim looking. He was paranoid about the Homeland Security Whatever the Fuck coming after HIS ass. He probably thought I was some spook. And my mind was a little at ease.

But still.

#2 is always there.

And with that, I think I will end "awbvious (recovering from addiction)" the rest of this blog will be found on:

http://awbvious.com/thegreenroom.htm#recent

Or just check the home page, there should be a link. Anyway, y'all should be able to read this whether #1 or #2, my last words (for the evening, chill, I'll be there tomorrow--I just probably won't be there with blogger and google who might have had the ability to overthrow the might of #2 if they thought it was "evil"--heh... See how easy all this shit is?

Much love for everyone.

Thursday, March 18, 2010 2:51 AM

Monday, March 22, 2010 4:05 AM

Why else would I be under surveillance?  I often try to think my way out of my delusions, by looking for alternatives.  I thought just now, what if I was under surveillance because "people" thought I was a "person of interest."  Why?  I do not commit any major crimes, nor have plans to.  I do not seem threatening in the least...

Or am I?  After all, I have a delusion that I am the center of all the attention, and this delusion is connected to a certain company and certain people.  Perhaps, just perhaps, they freaked out because I said I had a delusion.  Perhaps that is why I am under surveillance (assuming I was, which I am almost certainly not).  Because they think I'm a potential threat, because I'm /that far gone./  I could try to explain to them it is like a religion, and benign, and it doesn't hurt anyone...

But they might think it means I might snap at any time.  And then I might go after someone, say, who makes a whopping amount of money, and can thus, for their own personal safety, employ lots of people to make sure a potential lunatic doesn't hurt them.  It makes sense.  Can't really blame them, if I had a whopping amount of money, and I knew someone was, let's say, unusually preoccupied with me...  Well, I would check them out.  I would see if they have any violence in their past.

For if there was, if there is reason to suspect, even slightly, there might be danger...  Then, yes, I'd probably even pay to watch them indefinitely.  BUT, I am not a danger, I have no history of violence, I have only one drug habit that everyone knows about (and it's weed!), and in every stressful situation I've been in, I've cowered or ran.  There is absolutely no question, if they have been watching me for /that/ long, that I am a non-violent person.  There is no violence in my history.  I was never victimized systematically.  There are none of the red flags to suggest that I could do anything but, well, embarass myself and maybe others.

So, if that was the reason for surveillance, I'd like to think they are smart enough to realize this...  Of course...  Let's say there's some very important person, and they are afraid of you, so they spend lots of money to watch your every move.  Let's say they never do anything dangerous or make them seem "worth" watching (i.e. you're not running a reality tv show).  Then maybe the people watching you portrayed you as something different, something dangerous.  Thereby encouraging the client to spend more money watching, and thus making you seem way fucking worse in reality (whatever that is).

The client will want to see evidence.  Could they manufacture a scene where I am hurting someone?  Or ranting that I will hurt people?  Sure.  Would it be very convincing, probably not.  And hopefully the client (or my audience--should anyone portray me as anything but non-violent) would know.

Anyway, I've been going through some shit.  All I can hold on to is a feeling I got, with someone, that was very scary.  It was very primal.  And it could be mistaken.  But it can't be ignored.  I have told my mother and sister about it, and, to be safe, my friend Hess--because he doesn't know the person--unless he's into the whole conspiracy, in which case, he can look into the person for me.  But anyway, I have covered my bases that only a really irrational person would harm me, as that person would be the only suspect I have ever met since my Psychopathic Girl Friend of 5 years...

Or I could be in love.  Either way.  (Note.  Flippancy!)

Monday, March 22, 2010 4:21 AM

Tuesday, March 23, 2010 1:15 AM

Tuesday, March 23, 2010 1:15 AM

So, I am waiting for my friend to respond.  He may not want to talk me to when I am like this.  I was like this with everyone after I met her.  She "awakened" something.  It was more than a little frightening, and maybe unreal.

[23:40] [my friend]...
[00:51] awbvious: are we here?
[00:51] awbvious: help me deal with these two male mosquito flies in my room.
[00:51] awbvious: There was a third, but i swatted it and it went somewhere...
[00:52] awbvious: I tried turning on the light outside and turning off the light inside... Waited at least 20 minutes ruminating on whether the girl i met had aspergers or we both did.......
[00:52] awbvious: I come back, there's fucking three of these giant behemoth insect things on my wall.
[00:53] awbvious: i don't want to kill anything. but it will be a pain to transport them out of my room.
[00:53] awbvious: Unless they are visual illusions. or robots. or hallucinations. They are annoying the fuck out of me.
[00:54] awbvious: (Feels very persecuted.) And narcissistic.
[00:55] awbvious: notes, if you invent a device which can easily transport bugs that come into your domicile, to the outdoors. Thus avoiding any killing. You'd make a fortune.
[00:56] awbvious: needless to say i'm also tripping.
[00:56] awbvious: but i'm feeling good... imagines you are eating something.
[00:56] awbvious: (thus proving i don't have autism.)
[00:57] awbvious: okay, if you don't get back to me, in oh... Wait, it is almost 1 AM. He will be finishing his program with his wife. If I'm going to pretend I think outside of my own perspective, i should at least be good at it.
[00:58] awbvious: oh, and yes, I did maybe meet a psychopath who reveal itself only three days ago.
[00:59] awbvious: (Had to call my mommy, and then have her tell me to go home. Now i'm analyzing everything because that's all we did the whole time we were together. Too much analyzing though, one analyzes, is not good.
[00:59] awbvious: End parenthesis.
[01:01] awbvious: yeah, so i may be in love or i may be in fear for my life. all i know is i had a fucking weird trip (yes, I was a bit high when it happened--I only smoked weed with her since i had a hangover from the drinking which i did, needlessly to say, to excess)
[01:01] awbvious: You can also not read any of this, it is just thoughts that will go nowhere.
[01:02] awbvious: (Waits for show to end and you to finish chatting with your wife and then coming to your computer.)
[01:03] awbvious: Okay, I'm putting this on my blog at 1:15 (desperate for audience).
[01:05] awbvious: (damn, can't do that because i'd be telling the world something that i don't know... well, i wouldn't out anyone unless i feared for myself, and this woman gave me predator vibes... All i know for sure are two things. A) She's extremely intelligent. B) She's a great actress. C) At some level at some point she must have lied to me when she cried, and then smiled and i told her she shouldn't do that.
[01:07] awbvious: Then i must think all of our compatibility is an act, and that I am being singled out for some reason for exploitation of some kind, a la my ex-girlfriend 5 years ago, who took advantage of the fact that I had horrible skills at judging people by appearance (and maybe smell?) that they are dangerous people.
[01:09] awbvious: I.e. the whole thing was a bunch of lies, everything about her, that made her appealing (for whatever reason) could have been manufactured to play to all of my desires. The only thing, i told my mother, that would really make me feel alright, was if I had lots of resources, and I could do a thurough, thurough background check on her. Everything she said to me... Okay, I would say to her first, come clean to me about everything, and then I will make my judgments.
[01:11] awbvious: Hmm, I think that is what I am going to do. Wait for her to come clean to me. And, it stands to reason, if I must let her determine the pace, I can't email her right now my question. I must wait until she emails me. So, to ease my conscious (i was going to type conscience, but funny how that slips) I'm going to check my email for an email from her. Oh... But it may manipulate me so... She could give me a truth she conceives, but until I got, essentially, third hand proof, I wouldn't know what it said.
[01:12] awbvious: And the fact was, I asked her very plainly if she read my blog, or she said it, i was already drunk by then. I of course immediately asked if it would be okay to write about her in my blog. She said she would be very interested.
[01:14] awbvious: The fact is. If she didn't want me to write in my blog about her, I wouldn't, if she sent me any communication to say "no do not tell people anything about us in any way shape or form". But I have nothing to suggest that. She said she would be interested in what I wrote about her. So, that is all I need, I do not need to make judgements as to what is best for her, and damned if i think writing ever hurt anyone when it has no agenda besides rationalization. (Provided rationalization ends with "good" not "evil"--should they, of course, exist.)

Tuesday, March 23, 2010 1:17 AM

Tuesday, March 23, 2010 1:19 AM

Rationalizing is a high.  Distilling things to their most essential, it is addictive to a creative and curious brain.

Fact, the creative brain is useful to the machine we call our genes no?  Genes are a machine, we are merely extensions of them.

So, what do Genes "want?"  To reproduce!  To continue!  Why, because that is what "want" does, it causes things to happen even though nothing seems to bring them to happen.

Anyway, our genes want us to keep procreating, so we do.  we do.  But wait.

What does the program want us to do?  It wants us to evolve!  So it will not die.  It will adapt.  So, we must make ourselves as best as possible to adaptation.

So, that's what we do, we've adapted to the point when our Damn, i haven't checked my email.  I should not be afraid of her.

She has done nothing to scare me.  I will not take whatever she writes me, and then harm myself or others.  I can thus read my email...  I will try.

The woman was like ...

My email is down.  I am trying to rationally determine what is going on.  If I am part of a "game" then I am being cut off from her, because they fear what she has to say.  Thus, if it is option two, it is really unsportsmanlike to not let me open my email.

There it goes.

Nothing.

Okay.  She has not tried to contact me, or she cannot contact me.

The only reason I would not be able to contact her was because I was blocked by "them."  If so, I have to ask myself is "it" (that which I can not control) worth believing in a benevolent god?

The fact was, I might not even be finding a person with a place anywhere on the autism scale.  She could have been playing off me.  The fact was, I would always keep talking, and she would just ask me things like "why" or ...  Pretty much that was it.  I would then go about all the rationalizing I do in my brain.  "I can't do this, I must do that.  So I can finish this, and give this person five-hundred percentile affection."

Anyway, I was saying just about everything, she just repeated stuff about herself that all magically coincided with things about me.

It was, as I was telling my mother, "too good to be true."

Or rather, "if it seems too good, it probably is."

Just like, it seems too good that I'm the object of a reality show that would thus make me lots of money and perpetrate my genes?  Yeah, probably like that.

Anyway, we were talking about genes (shut up, boy, sing while you slave--I try not to get bored).  Ah yes, so you want to keep the program going on and on and on.  But the program will work so well, it will create a brain.  A brain that can even invade the program and change it.  So, this brain, became technological.  It thought about

Fuck, one of the male mosquitos have moved.

Fuck, now...

Oh, anyway, it all involves faith, and how this is faith, and it's all substitution.

Tuesday, March 23, 2010 1:34 AM

Tuesday, March 23, 2010 1:36 AM

[01:34] awbvious: Yay
[01:34] awbvious: I will stop blogging.
[01:34] [him]: heh
[01:34] [him]: let me go turn off my video game, then
[01:35] awbvious: ah.
[01:35] awbvious: how equally appropriate.
[01:35] awbvious: so, you don't need to read all that.
[01:35] awbvious: basically i met the most intelligent person I think I've ever met, and I freaked out.

[01:36] [him]: i dunno
[01:36] [him]: you are forgetting you have met me
[01:37] awbvious: Aaaah, yes.
[01:37] [him]: also, unrelatedly, did you acquire that second link?
[01:37] awbvious: well, clearly I mean within the time... Um, yes i did.
[01:37] [him]: so anyway
[01:37] [him]: there is boring drama behind it, but basically it is a superior version of the first
[01:37] [him]: have you worked out a plan to eliminate this person?
[01:38] awbvious: Hmm. yes, i have decided if she is definitely trying to hide something. Then I will do my best to expose it to the world.
[01:38] awbvious: Once I have done that, she is defused.
[01:38] awbvious: maybe she killed someone.
[01:38] [him]: and then revenge!
[01:38] [him]: or cake
[01:38] awbvious: maybe she was just abused.
[01:38] [him]: heh.
[01:38] [him]: *handwaves*
[01:38] awbvious: Not revenge, just peace of mind.
[01:38] [him]: both are good
[01:39] awbvious: indeed.
[01:39] awbvious: okay, hold on, i'm REALLY going to finish blogging, then we'll open that link.

[01:39] [him]: heh

Tuesday, March 23, 2010 1:41 AM

Wednesday, March 24, 2010 3:47 AM

So.  My vacation is going well.  I am spending much time with Hess, as much as he'll deal with (must not think of self as a burden).  The fact is it is good to be social, I need the practice.  I flipped him out though, when i gave him the story.  Why him?  Because I told him, he is A.D.  (But not in so many words.)

Oh that debaucle.  I must go to windows update.  and get security essentials whateverthefuck it is called.  My firefox is misbehaving and certain programs won't go away as they should.

I do miss writing in colors though.  I've always said, take advantage of your medium.  To everyone who talks to me.

"aspergers!" I said, when I saw /that guy/ from /that channel/ "he's got it, as do I possibly, at least I got that impression after my encounter"--then he said something mildly disparaging to make things humorous--"no like bill gates."  For doesn't he make you want to have aspergers?

Is that what you have?  Or think you have?

I told him simply, no, just bad people skills.

Or, rather, I've thought about it, and already dealt with it.  (I forgot to mention accepted.)

It was strange, walking toward the /place/ and there was a picture of tony clifton.  I said tony clifton.  She might have said it would have been great to see him.  I said, I would be..."  Oh, damn, would somebody roll the tape for me?

fuck, i have a pustule inside my nostril.  it is blog humor.

Ooo, i like this color.  I was struck by how much people are obsessed with appearance when I watched television with Hess--and tried to watch what he wanted.  Succeeded, but ran commentary the whole time.  Damn this pustule.  Hmm, maybe I should be like faulkner wanted to be and use color coding to signify a person, naw, too constraining.

it's been fun, but I must disfigure myself.

Wednesday, March 24, 2010 3:58 AM

Friday, March 26, 2010 1:42 AM

I have decided something that has been bugging me for a long time.  If there was any kind of conspiracy against/for me, be it legal, or government, or private, or art.  Art can still exist with accountability.  I want my mother to know.  I want her to know if (and only if, as of the time of this writing) they are using means that are subconscious.  That is to say, they are in any way possibly taking my free will, because I can not, say, hear what is going on.  For example, I might be communicated to with a device (like the one that I /might/ have found before in my ear).  I am tempted to take it off my shelf and inspect it, but it could be changed by now.  I simply know there was something in my ear, that may have been wax.  Doesn't matter.  The fact is, the only way hidden subconscious directions can be given (as far as I know) is on some radio frequency.  Now, that radio frequency could be a digital frequency.  Namely the frequency by which the device that is, say, in my ear (for there may be one in there right now, and of course, there is no reasonable way for me to find out) determines to emit the vocal commands that effect me, should be detectable.  If a reality show had nothing to hide, it would allow law enforcement to make sure there was always someone on the look-out for subconscious manipulation.  For that, my friends, is against the fucking constitution.  We should all have free will.  We should all have life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.  So, someone should be on the lookout for electronic signals of some sort.  I can only imagine sounds on frequencies undectable to the human ear.  But if there is accountability, then the reality show would have someone to make sure there are no frequencies outside of the human ear that can't be explained by, say, wifi connections or sometihng...  Of course, a wifi connection could connect to a device that was implanted, either in the ear, or just in everything I am around.  My computer speakers, my car speakers, anything that makes noise.  Then those devices could emit the subconscious (god i am getting tired) sound waves that hit the ear and then go into our brains and think they are actually either a) our own thoughts or b) those of god.  For c) that they are someone else's is extremely unlikely.  No one would honestly think c) no one is going to imagine that.  I didn't.  Until 4 years ago, when I went through exactly the same thing I went through today.  Exactly.  I was having a dialogue with someone in my head.  I wasn't sure if it was myself, and no, I don't know if this was a dialogue with myself either.  I don't know who helped me to the conclusions, but they are ones I really think I believe in.  Namely, that there is always accountability.  I can't say for sure what the punishments (if any) should be.  But that no matter how much one wants to make art, they have to let others in on it.  And art is the only excuse I would accept for doing anything on a subconcious level.  For monetary gain alone, it is pretty dispicable.  But for art, I can understand someone trying to tap into a subconscious level.  They may be tempted.  They may, say, give me all the notes right before they came in a song, so I would sing it better.  Or have me sing more often.  Maybe all they do is increase the strength of whatever I am already thinking.  Maybe the manipulation is chemical and not auditory.  I just think chemical manipulation would be extremely difficult to pull of for that long.  Ah, but today has only given me belief in the fact that something bad happened 4 years ago, not that anything has happened since then.  I don't know about the whole delusions, whether they are delusions, any of that stuff.  I do know that today as I did 4 years ago, I thought I was being manipulated without my knowing in anyway I could have forsaw.  That manipulation scared me to the point where I thought, say, the worst would happen.  And thus, I did.  I am, almost completely sure, that the manipulation caused me to ...  No, I don't know why it happened.  Why I thought the worst had happened, I have a theory (but again, Occam's Razor is denying almost all my theories).  My theory (and yes, I do think this is my theory) is that I was so feeling out of control, that I, well, I thought I was in the hands of someone "evil"--for if there is an evil, there is no doubt what I thought happened to me, was evil.  Again, I thought I was being hurt on a physical level in very sensitive (both emotionally and physically) areas and I thought it was malicious.  That means that yes, at one point, since the contract, I have thought I was hurt.  Did I think I was being hurt tonight?  No.  In fact, my conclusion is that almost certainly whoever did it 4 years ago (if they did it, again) is not doing it again now, or at least is not doing it without accountability this time.  This time, I really got the feeling there was someone there to ask questions to always make sure I didn't feel like I was being hurt.  Before, I was asked questions, and they were intellectually curious questions, but they never really dealt with was I being hurt.  This is the first time I feel I've been questioned and the questions are, have I been hurt.  Now, I might have been asking these questions of myself.  Do I think I am crazy if I think I can imagine a monologue to be a dialogue?  No.  For lots of people think they "talk to god" and I'm only thinking I'm "talking to science."  Because it has a rational explaination.  The great thing about the one revelation I did have, that there is indeed accountability, is it works whether I am atheist or not (something I haven't been sure of in this recent bout of internal interogation).  If there is a god, then god would want there to be accountability--at least the god that I believe could exist, as best as I can define him this momment.  And if there isn't a god, then we must rely on society.  And society would ...  It's been 5 minutes (I know that means nothing to you).  Anyway, if there is a god.  Hmm, I am now wondering if I am being manipulated to write.  I only know I feel a lot of manipulation lately.  Ever since that woman.  She precipitated all this, and has me hyper aware, and making me decide what's the most I want to be manipulated.  I want to be manipulated in the way that someone does things that are nice because I like them.  That's for sure.  I don't like being manipulated if I don't know the person's motives.  But, anyway, I don't know if I would say STOP RIGHT NOW, you are manipulating me.  I would say BE ACCOUNTABLE.   Who to?  My mother?  The president of the united states?  Law enforcement?  At what level of law enforcement?  Because, the fact is, I do believe in the law being wrong sometimes (like, in, oh, I don't know, marijuana).  But mostly I stand by it.  If the law was to know every bit about me so that they could know every bit about them...  Fine.  I have talked (in my head) about the deepest secrets I can think of.  In all cases, I have decided they are nothing to be worried about as far as law enforcement is concerned.  So, they should know.  But who in law enforcement?   The county sheriff?  Is he good enough to decide.  No.  There is one thing, and it would go no matter who was using the subconscious methods, the president should know.  If it was CIA telling me something subconsciously, and they thought, for national security, they mustn't tell the president.  He's a big boy, and, very luckily, real smart this time around.  So, yes, I would say, you could tell either my mother or the president.  And telling the president might be a better option.  For either case, though, I would probably insist that you make as much information as you have possible for him or her to decide.  My mother, is smart enough, that if you gave her as much as information as she wanted, whatever she wanted, she would make the right decision.  You could always try to convince her, I try to convince her on stuff ALL the time--like the marijuana thing.  But essentially, if you tell her everything she wants to know, and if she wanted to know every damn detail of your operation short of the actual identies of those involved...  You should tell her.  And the same thing goes for the president.  So, there are your options, if you want to give the big reveal.  You'd be smart to tell my mother or the president first--and tell them that they can ask whatever they want, and you will have to give them that information as best as you can (again, except for people's identities).  So, big reveal happens, everyone is smiling, yay, you're famous.  (Though, if anything, today makes me think that I am not famous, but merely a victim that is only now getting the attention he deserves.)  (Tough to accept, but hey.)  So, everyone says I'm famous, musicians have been rooting for me this whole time, you'll even give me some money (not all of it at once, just a good faith gesture).  Unless you also tell me that you've given complete transparency to my mother, so that she could pull the kill switch (for I do not trust that I will pull it--I will say it again, I have yet to pull it, I have yet to say--and don't know if I'll ever say--that I would want to be a part of grand art project).  She should have the kill switch power, to say, this has gone far enough, and to be really able to say this is bad or good, she needs to know all the details that have to, in any way, subvert my free will.  (Or the president.  But I think any conspiracy, law enforcement or television company, would probably want to go through my mom--but hey, if the president's got the time to go over it, and make his decision--because whether or not people get to use subconscious control on a person is extremely import--then he should.)  There's got to be accountability.  Maybe the best accountability would be a symposium of scientists, 100 greatest scientists that you could gather, and people agreed that they were the best scientists for the job (no religious people, I don't trust them, except for my mother), and they decided I would be convinced what science says on the matter.  As far as what God says on the matter--from everything I've seen and heard my entire life...  My mother would know that.  For I love my mother, very, very, very much.  She has always known I was different, but she raised me the best she could despite it, she did it by being a reflection of christ, and promoting christ and christ's teachings.  And I still believe that Jesus knew his shit, he might not have been the son of man (right now, my agnosticism is increasing only in that there's a masterplan, which means a god, which means a single god, almost certainly), but he's always said good shit as far as I can tell, and all the stories of what he did are all wonderful.  And I am so blessed to have been taught that, so I can rely on it, even in times of uncertainty.  When I do not know if there is a god, I can always say, if there isn't should I still do what Jesus says?  And the answer is yes.  (Oh, and no, I've never thought myself god, or jesus, at the most /maybe/ a prophet, not one that should be worshiped and believed no matter what I say--sorry.)  (And yes, from what I've heard of Jesus, he really believed he was son of god--and I think anyone who's really smart and determines good always wins, might even come to the conclusion that they are being told that by god.)  Oh yeah, I've had crisises of faith today.  I have had probably as many as ten minutes actually believing there's a god.  That's a record for as long as I remember.  For as long as I've ever considered myself an atheist, that's for sure.  So, today was therapeutic, but a little scary.  And maybe I shouldn't tell you about it, because it may lose my friends.  And I don't want to lose any friends.  I was very fortunate to have Hess around me all today, as I truly believe he is a good person--smart, like that girl--but not bad.  He doesn't seem bad.  If Hess, however, is behind this, and he descovers that subconscious is bad, and he says he won't be a part of it ever again, that is, make sure it isn't done as best as he can without, say, ruining any role he might have, then cool.  All that matters is the person(s) using subconscious methods (if they are) realize that you are taking away free will, and it is wrong.  And it must stop.  And you must be accountable.  But not necessarily punished, and definitely, by no means, should any of this art be destroyed.  Maybe the person who was responsible (assuming culpability is only for that one person, accountability is definitely not on one person, well, if accountability means that no one else knows... I can't define accountability without saying at the same time I think I can make judgment as to punishment) didn't want to make art, maybe they did, but as far as I'm concerned, art was made.  And as an artist, I would like as many people as possible to eventually find out.  If ever subconscious methods were used on me, or anyone, it needs to come to light.  How, when, who, all that shit, I do not know.  Heh, my friend is IMing me saying I am "treacherously blogging"--he is right.  I must respond to him.  Because no matter what I think today.  I know I want friends.

Friday, March 26, 2010 2:31 AM

Friday, March 26, 2010 5:04 AM

Anyway, one of the questions that keep popping up in the imaginary interogation where the defendent is trying to prove that he's not to blame, as that is what it feels like, two people talking to me, whenever he gets to talk, they get to talk.  Seems very fair.  They have tipped their hand, which i assume is fine.  Anyway, all bullshit, I'm tripping.  And do I think that's bad?  No, I'm not hurting anyone.  I'm just processing some shit.  That's what good about herb.  I can kind of focus on this, and not let the rest of life's bullshit affect me.  I could use alcohol to do that, but I would possibly turn violent.  Instead I am having a green revelation. (yes i am a Get Fuzzy fan).  Yeah, this trippin' I did today on this shit, it's all been processing, that's what I got to do, use my analytic skills to cure of something that has indeed only started with this girl.

Oh fuck, i was in a conversation with Stephen.

Okay, quickly.  If I am being surveilled by any government or law enforcement agency that also, for whatever reason, used subconscious methods to maybe catch the perpetrator of the 4 years ago incident.  They need to tell the president.  It would make me feel much, much better if I could get to shake his hand.  And only after I get to say this one sentence: "by shaking my hand, you realize you are saying that have access to all the methods of the operation that has taken place?"  For he can...

Okay, now he's eyeing me, because he knows I'm online.

If it is not government or law enfocement, you only need to tell my mother, not the president.  She needs to have complete access to all the methods and whatnot.  Yep, accountability is a bitch, one way or the other, you always need to tell someone.

Friday, March 26, 2010 5:13 AM

Friday, March 26, 2010 5:59 AM

There is a need to define accountability.  Accountability means there is no secret that is worth hiding between two people if both people are involved.  If there is a secret you want to keep to yourself, that involved no harm being done, then alright.  But if there is harm, of any kind, I believe it should be known to at least more than the two people (or one person, as the case may be) involved.  In almost every case, though, there is going to be about two people.  In accountability, there is always at least one person, other than the person with the secret or motive or whatever that harms someone else (i.e. it may be harming themselves to hide that their, say, dead father molested them, but if that person is still alive, then I think he is still in the equation, and thus, the molestation could not be kept to you and him).  It is a basic fact, that unless it is a one-person activity, then there always needs to be another person observing without a motive.  There always needs to be oversight.  My mother, perfect example of oversight, I can trust that her motives will not involve exploiting me.  So, I will make myself accountable to her.  I would also suggest other people to be accountable to her if they interrupt my pursuit of happiness.  (Life and liberty are two other things.)  If they take away my liberty, well, i would say the only liberty worth prosecuting is the taking of free will--for other than two weeks after my four years ago incident where I was in psychiatric care, I did not feel like a prisoner.  And those two weeks seemed to genuinely be in my best interest.  And my mother would probably agree, were she to know all the facts.  My mother doesn't need access to them without her asking for them, but you should make it pretty clear everything that involves any subconscious manipulation.  Eh.  I would really only be happy with all manipulation (without personal info).  But subcoscious manipulation is my definite "she must know" category.  Just as it is for the president.  The subconscious manipulation (if it occurred) is the only thing that warrants a swift decision of termination of conduct status quo).  All the details of that need to be available--if you are governmental agencies you really should convince the president into listening in on frequencies /of known interests of national security/.  It's up to Obama whether that means he wants to know of everyone who is thus being surveilled.  (I should hope that the president knows of every person that is being surveilled.  No.  I don't say he should be briefed on it every fucking morning.  I'm saying the president should know the identities of all the targets.  He might think to ask to look at the case involving me (were there such a case) but I'd like to think he could get that information as soon as he'd want.  And, thus, if it doesn't seem unreasonable, I would like him to know about it, in my case, as I am perhaps more than just paranoid.  What's the dollar amount "you" ask?  Um...

Let me put it this way, if your in any branch of law enforcement (including the CIA), and you

If I was part of any conspiracy that was not large enough that it could tell the president and have him honestly believe them.  Then, you're pretty much stuck with telling my mother.  You have to convince my mother.  You'll have to tell her everything, because you can't tell the president, and she will then decide your fate.  And mine, for I trust her more than my own brain.  For my brain has hurt me in the past.  It has created a lot of good art.  But ultimately it is not the best defense in surviving my genes.  For that, my mother is, and I will continue to use that resource as long as I can.  For I have had her in my life for 31 years, and I know she has never hurt me in those entire 31 years.  31 years!  It's probably a record, but I'm guessing some other good people have managed it.  She's never really hurt me that entire time.  There have been some misunderstanding, and truths that were revealed later than I thought they should have been--but they have been truths I would have always said should be open (again, accountability--back then it was a matter of what to do that would be best for creating a happy home, now it is what is best for my well being), at this stage in my life, I think having something like this "hidden" is only a problem if that "hiding" is what caused the attack.  For if it is, then I have no way of knowing if it will come again, so you'd have to be on high alert.  Actually, you couldn't be, because--I'm thinking my mom is writing this, not me, but I agree with her--I could have a moment where I think I can talk, and I won't be able to.  I will want to be able to scream, because I think I'm being hurt, but I'm not, but I'll think I won't be able to scream, and then I will hurt myself again.  National security, let me think I'll hurt myself again.  Entertainment or art?  Art is harder to justify.  For I sincerely believe that art can be made without hurting anyone, and it is hard to say there is much artistic value in things that come from hurting someone.  But, one can not know they are hurting someone.  For example, I would not have thought I was hurting myself if I agreed to this the whole time.  What if I am now realizing that I am being hurt, or rather, that the fact I was definitely hurt (intentionally or unintentionally) is making me worry needlessly that I'll be hurt again?  I can't be sure of that.  I can't be sure that I'm being hurt or not, just from the fact that I went through what I was sure was hurt.  But if that hurt could happen again--which it wouldn't be able to, if mom knew about it.  Yeah, I don't have to worry if you tell mom, she just needs to know I was hurt once.  She can make the decision of whether that one time of getting hurt (intentionally or unintentionally) is reason enough to cancel the whole shebang.  But the point is, I'm not going to use the "safe word."  I'm not going to say "let's stop this, it has gone too far, I don't feel good today, or yesterday, or say, since saturday" because I might get over that, and think, hey, this is great art.  No.  I am not going to use the "safe word" of "stop."  I haven't said it yet, and I don't know if I ever would.  My mother.  Though.  She would hear my arguments, over and over, and probably come up to a decision long before (but I learned back when I was 11, I believe, when I wanted to get fast food instead of going straight home from school, that I could present a more compelling argument, and she would in fact change her mind--but it's been pretty hard to think of other times since then) I ended with my arguments.  I could give her everything I've thought these last couple days and have her decide then.  The fact is, I'm pretty sure when I wake up in the morning, I'm still going to say this to my mother as soon as she wakes up, that, yes, mom, if I was a part of any conspiracy, be it law or art or entertainment or commerce or just some sick-mad-fantasy of some guy who found a great person to experiment on, because he wouldn't do it on himself...  Whatever the conspiracy, if there is conspiracy, that I'd want her to know about it.  All of it.  Except the personal info of people and anything else they can really convince her that she doesn't need to know (as long as it has nothing to do with my manipulation--I'm pretty sure if it has to do with manipulating my behavior instead of just watching it--she needs to know).  So, provided I am strong enough to bring this up, for I might not, it took me a long time to open up to her at all--in fact, it took me calling the cops on myself.  Hmm...  I wonder.  Maybe I have been under investigation (mildly) since they took me in to the med ward.  They go "he's not psychotic, he shouldn't hear voices."  "What do you think doctor?"  "Maybe he was being told them on some kind of frequency."  The cops go, hmm, and look into it.  But they find nothing.  So, they kind of let the case go cold.  Then (that girl) happens.  And after that the case is interesting again.  Maybe because of who that girl is.  Or she looked into it.  Maybe she read my entire blog and went, hey, this is actually kind of possible, and here's an easy way to test it.  And then she goes out with me, and uses the subconscious methods to seduce...  No, more likely I think she used the subconscious methods on me the next day.  But I do not remember them.  I am just assuming.  That person could have been the perpetrator before, or it could have been someone out to find the perpetrator.  Whatever the case this person had evidence to say, hey, listen to what this guy's been saying, he could have really been abused by subconscious manipulation 4 years ago--and probably not in any way related to a tv show.  It was just convenient for the predator.  The predator probably goes around, trying various victims, seeing how they respond to subconcious manipulation.  He's just jaunting along, maybe he works for a reality show, since he'll find more interesting prey.  He finds me.  Perfect, he'll convince me that I'm (again he or she convinces me that I'm) part of a reality show, fits his ego nicely, and a great con artist would play to a person's ego.  So, subconscious manipulation for an undecernable amount of time (or I just don't want to bother thinking about it right now) happened once, this girl realizes it the second time by doing it the second time (because I don't count my CFA--though I might be able to).  Anyway, my mom, from what I told her, probably rethought the whole "something bad happened" thing.  She's always thought something bad happened.  I knew that I had gotten hurt, but I did not know it was bad.  Now that I know the way I got hurt was by taking my free will and that it might happen again, I know it is bad.  But only if my free will was taken.  I am pretty sure it was, because I tried to scream out 4 years ago.  Just as I tried to tonight.  I thought I was being interrogated and I wanted to say something to show adamantly I believed it.  But I was also, I perceived, being told to not say it, so it was only with great straining that I said it (and I believed it, whatever I said).  The only thing it showed me was that both tonight and 4 years ago, I believed I couldn't speak out when I wanted to.  If it is wrong that I shouldn't have been able to speak out.  If it is harm.  If it is evil.  (And yes, not only did I think I believed in god for at least 5 or 10 minutes, I've never disbelieved anything I've realized of late.)  For yes, if I am to believe the conclusions I have gotten today and tonight, then I have also concluded that, well, there is a god.  I don't know what form or what powers or much else.  Just that I do believe.

I am being told I am low on system memory.  Maybe they want me to sleep.  I will try for them.

Friday, March 26, 2010 6:53 AM

Saturday, March 27, 2010 11:10 PM

I am having a major trip.  Not sure if it is good or bad.  I know only that I have experienced a trip so strong one other time in my life.  It could be that I got some "bad weed."  Mom says there is such a thing.  She probably says as far as potency is concerned, I think that is bullshit.  I didn't get "super good" herb that time, or this time.  I got something that really caused a different trip than I was used to.  I'm used to trips where I feel relaxed by the end of them.  They didn't take very long.  They didn't, say, last for days like this one has.  I may have been given this drug by this person.  I may have been slipped acid--something I would never intentionally do.  Unless, of course, it was to prove what acid could do to a smart brain.  If, ultimately, I can still be a champion of marijuana (because I really, really, really do think it helps me, as I've known it B.C.--no not british columbia, before the contract) then I am happy.  If it is a different drug I am on, then I can champion the regulation of it.  Enforcement, etc.  So, yes, it may actually turn out that (if it is just super potent weed) I will want there to be limits on what is accessible.  Or, rather, that there be THC levels indicated on the bags of marijuana when given to you.  That would be regulation enough, actually.  As long as someone was checking to make sure those THC levels were correct (but this definitely does not mean "spend more money to convince people that marijuana is bad").   The fact is, putting THC levels (and yes, I do believe I am "channeling" Jack Herrer, like I channel musicians when I sing...  hmm, that could be the subconscious message I get, totally unexcusable) on weed (apparently the writer of this topic no longer is interested in this conversation--for I do believe there was a writer in my brain who came up with a script other than one I would have come up, that's the trip, in a nutshell, I think there is someone else inside my brain, it is very scary, but...  Okay, maybe this is a good trip...  or maybe I want to think that according to "their" or "my" script...  I will only know once I am out of the trip.  Then I will make my decision).

Saturday, March 27, 2010 11:20 PM

Saturday, March 27, 2010 11:46 PM

Okay, I have given myself one day to decide how I want the reveal to occur.  I have decided that accountability lies first with my mom, and if my mom was to be a part of a conspiracy /this/ big, she'd want an aouthority of her own.  So, this may be her idea.  It could be my idea.  Could be the idea of someone who is trying to plead their case for why they hurt me.  Yeah, they've already lost on the fact that they hurt me.  Twice.  The second time, if used to find out about the first time, and to stop it from ever happening again, is okay.  And, I'd probably want the world to know about it, so they will be aware it happens.  But, if the president doesn't want the world to know it happens, then we shouldn't let the world know.  (As, no matter how I look at it, if something was done to me by someone else to trigger these two episodes, the president should know about it, it is that dangerous.)  Anyway, I keep thinking "who do I want to have the source code?"  Namely, the operations of surveillance and, perhaps, manipulation.  The company involved in surveillance would not want to give away trade secrets.  Far enough.  So, I will keep it to three people.

My mom.  Bill Gates.  The President.  These three people should have the source code, unless you are CIA.  Only organization, okay, maybe Homeland Security, if "you" are either of these, then you only need to give the source code to the President.  The entire operation.  Any piece of information he might want.  It should be at his disposal.  He, of course, would look at what laws were broken, and whether they should have been or not.  The other person would be Bill Gates, he is very very very smart, and he gives freely of his money (selfishness is a sign of "badness"--won't say evil--I'll just say that giving a little of your wealth to keep you in good opinion of the world may make sense, but not the amount he has given).  He may be somewhat autistic, so he may understand me better.  I think I know the guy, since I have studied his art for, I don't even know how long.  (Just avoided abusing the Ten Commandments.)  So, now we come to number three, my mother.  She is not smart in ways that the President is or Bill Gates is, but she knows about loving me, and how not to hurt me.  And she's been so good at it for so many years, I have to rely on her.

I think my mother, today, was telling me if I wanted to do a "reveal" I would have to do it "my way."  And I said I needed a day to decide.  So, if by the end of this time, I should feel different, I will let you know.  I think it was sometime in the afternoon I told her I wanted a day to decide.  She was scared about this.  She asked me if I would be disappointed.  I said I didn't know.  As the reveal could be, yes, that I have never been the object of a reality show.  This could be, say, doctors who are deciding what is the right way of letting me know that I was abused in this way once, and may be abused that way again.

Okay, that scenario.  Well.  Mom would, again, need to know everything.  Mom, I would hope, would double check the doctor's story--in case he's "in on it."  She should consult the best of science.  Then make her decision.  Yes, it would be great if she could take a survey of the world.  A "should it be revealed in a day, yes/no" and "should my mom be there when it happens, yes/no".  But that's part of the grand delusion.  The one that comes from being egotistical--which I am--but at least not selfish (because, should this all be a "good" conspiracy, I will use my money to spread "good" as well).  If I am nobody.  Which I must accept.  And am trying to.  Everyone tells you "you are somebody" though.  If I wanted to go looking through some instant message logs I would give you the quote by Marilyn Savant.

Anyway, I thought I was part of a script.  A really, really, really good one.  One I couldn't have thought of on my own.  (Which appears to be unegotistical, but still, egotistical that I would be special enough to warrant this "special script.")

It is very, very effective on extremely rational people like myself who get delusions.  So, yes, I feel a little special in that I am that good of an artist, that I can spread the word about delusions, and smart people, and how they need not fear they are "passing" in life, and thus fear that they will be "found out" and lose all their friends.  Odds are, I will gain more friends by having gone through this script.  Which will certainly make it seem like a good trip.

By the way, I feel I was being scripted by Bill Gates, Barrack Obama, and my mom.  Pretty important people.  Maybe just my mom had a part in it?  That's cool.  Maybe I'm not famous?  That's cool too.  Maybe I'll be castigated and abandoned by society and no one will want to be my friend?  That's not cool.  Do I think that will happen if I let everyone know I deluded myself because I was too smart?  That someone (or someones, I still think it was a script written by a number of people, namely professionals in mental health) ...  What?  Ah, the interrogation stops again.  I think these are not my thoughts.  They are too smart, and probably written by a number of people.  Does that scare me?  No.  For I know there are others who are smart besides myself.  Like my mom.

Man, this is a major trip.

Sunday, March 28, 2010 0:06 AM

Sunday, March 28, 2010 1:51 AM

What would I want my mom to do, to at least let me know that she is in on it?  I just need a good faith gesture.  Not all my money.  Not even, say, sitting around the TV with my family and the president and Bill Gates shake hands, thus signifying that they have the source code.  (Though, that would be a damn good faith gesture.)  I don't know what the good faith gesture would be.  I just need one.  Will I know it when I see it?  I hope so.

Sunday, March 28, 2010 1:53 AM

Sunday, March 28, 2010 2:00 AM

This is simply a test to see that my FTP is working and that this is really getting to the world (I'm going to compare filesizes).

Sunday, March 28, 2010 2:01 AM

Monday, March 29, 2010 8:56 AM

I absolutely must share something with you.  But it must be binary.  Black and white text.  I hope you don't mind.  For in it.  You may find God.

Fuck, I wanted to paste it into here, but if I do, I lose the meta-data, and I want to give Bill Gates his props, but I don't want to put that shit in /my/ meta data.  Come on, a little artistic cred, am I write?  I will nonetheless say it here:

<html>

<head>
<meta http-equiv=Content-Type content="text/html; charset=windows-1252">
<meta name=Generator content="Microsoft Word 10 (filtered)">
<title>Someone I love so much just… seemed very happy</title>

<style>
<!--
/* Style Definitions */
p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal
{margin:0in;
margin-bottom:.0001pt;
font-size:12.0pt;
font-family:"Times New Roman";}
@page Section1
{size:8.5in 11.0in;
margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in;}
div.Section1
{page:Section1;}
-->
</style>

</head>

<body lang=EN-US>

<div class=Section1>

<p class=MsoNormal><span style='color:#333333'>&nbsp;</span></p>

</div>

</body>

</html>

I am now, of course, going to um, less incriminate myself and buy his product.  Thanks for the code (which I could have gotten once I bought your product, so thanks also for the borrow, I'm richer now, I can pay the relatively small cost!).  Well, after I paste this code, of course.  (And again, I gave him his props, how I came to this code, then, is again, entirely a matter of opinion:)

Okay, replace all "<p class=MsoNormal>" with "<p>"--thank you again product I will soon be purchasing but am in no way saying I am currently using.

Luckily, while I am relatively rich enough to buy said product, I am also relatively poor enough to deal with bankruptcy.  (Makes me a bit dangerous, yes, but clearly Good...  Right??????????????????????????????????????????

Monday, March 29, 2010 9:15 AM

Monday, March 29, 2010 9:17 AM

I forgot to mention, before I go and share this with the world (mind you, for no apparent profit--apparent even to me), I should first purchase said product.  But, of course, said product is no longer for sale.  So I am reduced to buying newest version of said product.  But I will do so, as a good faith gesture that will hopefully allow them to ignore my previous transgression (since, of course, new product will require the removal of old product, and not in a way I can retrieve, and they will ultimately get the same amount of money, adjusted for inflation as they would have for when I first used the product...  I think...  But not really thinking that hard).

Monday, March 29, 2010 9:20 AM

Monday, March 29, 2010 9:20 AM

FUCK, in order to keep with the mindset of Bill Gates, whose art I have shamefully (not at all shamefully, at least conciously) borrowed from.  I must adjust for inflation, I am smart enough to determine when I first started using this version of said product (pre updates, which thanks, but hey, you didn't bother then...  Notes, you always do for your OS--take what you need, exactly.).  And donate the rest of the money to the Gates Foundation (fuck Microsoft, they are not the same as the artist, they are merely a canvas).  Ooo, actually, can I be sure Gates will defend me?  Gates won't care about me!  Dumb ass.  Or else they'd have found your ass out a long time ago.  Do you really think they care about a few god damn dollars?  (Ooo, must be Satan, he made me use the term "god damn".)  (Hey, it's not in vain if you joke about it afterwards...  Right??????????????????????????????????????

Monday, March 29, 2010 9:23 AM

Wednesday, March 31, 2010 7:01 PM

Under the bridge downtown...  Is where I drew some blood...

You ever have a crazy trip?  I have.  Twice.  Once, it ended in me hurting myself...  No it didn't end there...  But there was hurting of myself.  This time, not so sure.  No actual pain has been felt.

In both cases, I thought there was someone inside my brain.  With my knowledge of science, I knew there were ways to get into one's brain undetected.

I am not sure "the scriptmaster" but I am pretty sure it is me.  And I'm damn good.

Anyway, conclusion: For those are all I care about, I've come to so many lately, I must expound.  Whatever was "fucking with" me, was very computer like (or was a human immitating a computer very well).  In either case, the fact that I came to the conclusion that there was a computer involved basically, oh, makes the computer fail the turing test.  Well, not if it is a human immitating.  In which case, it will only prove a second corollary (in that it took a second) "we are smarting than computers."  Oh, and of course, the main conclusion "my mother is smarter than me."

Basically, I felt like I was playing chess with Deep Blue.  A sophisticated program that could forsee steps very quickly.  It would, of course, have to get massive human scriptwriting to do it.  You'd have to get people skilled at such things...  Well, maybe not, not with the new hypothesis.

Namely, brain areas are being triggered.  Does weed do this?  Maybe.  I won't say anything about that yet.  But I was being triggered in a lot of places when I started realizing the many ways the brain can manipulate itself (or another's).  One, is excellent script writers.  They can lead the brain into areas that will expound in a certain direction.  i.e. a very simple message like "think about god" could start one in that area of the brain.  But anyway, the fact is, another very good idea (in that it is likely) is brain manipulation happened in an unscripted way.

Namely, I felt a trigger in my brain.

My father came by, I did not like it.  He was giving me a "hard time."  Making it seem like it was my fault for my mother's exhaustion and that I should feel bad about it.  That was /certainly/ the conclusion I got from it.  I hate that.  He doesn't even know he's fucking doing it.  It's why I must reduce contact with him in my current emotional state.  I only hope he understands (he knows that I am...  going through some issues) why I need distance from someone with too many negative (but very, very old) connections.  Actually, not even "too many" I don't want any.  I only know I felt really, really, really uncomfortable right now.  He was probably not trying to, but it buzzkilled pretty bad.

Damn, I think I'm going to have to, um...  Wrap it up.  The way is this.  You give the brain, say, signals.  Probably on the scalp would be best.  Otherwise, if you are good at accupuncture, you could do it that way.  You give a signal to, think about god, for there is a god region in our brain.  You give it a signal to question things, as there are questioning areas in the brain.  See, I still think neural pathways are more important than neural regions, but it works either way.  Somehow, a signal is being sent to some region or pathway that says "be paranoid."  Weed does that sometimes.  It's one of its "side effects"--but it is probably good for doing clever deduction in any process.

Anyway, I think, 4 years ago, I got a signal to feel pain.  A lot of pain.  The signal was intensified as much as possible, so the pain region went into overdrive and I went through the most pain of my life.  I may have accessed this area.  On my own.  It is true.  But so could someone else.  I don't think I can do it as much as I felt 4 years ago.  Because I felt a lot of "twinges" here and there during this, what, two weeks since my mind's been blown?

But no pain.  No pain, I would yell to my mind "you want to really see how painful it was, hurt my arm, not there, and do it as hard as you can, I will let you know when it is even close."  But I wouldn't do it to my arm.  I wouldn't feel the pain, the pain I felt that night 4 years ago, that may have precipitated a lot of what came after.

If someone manipulates your pain region, it goes to think, they can manipulate your thoughts.  I do feel like these last two weeks have been manipulation.  But it could have been self-manipulation, which is a mind fuck, but not necessarily bad.  But four years ago, something manipulated me in ways I don't think I could even imagine.  I felt so much pain.  So much pain.  And, remember, an inability to speak out or tell anyone how I was feeling.

It was a double manipulation.  Pain and don't speak.  Can accupuncture do this?  I am not sure, I could do some research, but the fact is, it all depends on the fact that I was attacked by someone other than myself.  And occam's razor points its shiny little edge at me.  I probably did it to myself.  Unless, of course, these last two weeks were, say, an experiment by an investigator.  Or, not even two weeks, maybe just two days, two very recent days.

The investigator determined that I was weak willed.  I am.  I will admit it.  When I trust someone, I am.  My mother, I am weak willed against, for sure.  But the perpitrator/investigator could never manipulate my thoughts of my mother against me, for I know too well what should want in almost any situation.  And it would only lead to getting the perpitrator/investigator caught.

There is science to explain this.  I know there is.  Before, there wasn't.  There was superstition, like Voodoo dolls.  Now people are looking more seriously at Eastern Medicine.  And that means accupuncture.  Read up on that shit, then judge me.  There are advances in technology, that make it so you don't need accupuncture.

Example, they can make sound go wherever they want to nowadays, right?  With the right technology, you can send an audio signal directly to wherever you point.  So, you could speak directly to anyone you want to.  And, it goes to reason, you could do it on any frequency you want.

So, what frequency would you use?  Well, it depends on if you are lucky enough to have a secondary device that is, say, in the person's ear.  If it is in the person's ear (without them knowing of course, and yes, when someone is sleeping, I do think it is possible to sneak in and put a tiny device next to that person's eardrum, cover it first in wax, of course, and put some kind of glue to attach to the ear drum), you can send ANY frequency, even frequencies like cell phone ones or wifi ones, lots of shit no one would think to look for.

Ah, but they could look for them.  If they got as close as possible to a person who may be getting messages he does not want, they can use a scanner, and it can pick up all the signals in the area.  So...

"When you're absolutely not high any more I want to give you your abilify, fair?"  "Fair."  "Okay."  She goes to her room and closes the door to no doubt lie on her bed and try to relax knowing her son is going through a major trip.

Or journey.

Look, even if I'm wrong about all the conspiracy shit I think about, isn't it actually kind of good that I do?  Think about it, if I get enough of an audience, then people who do reality tv shows will start having accountability for their actions.  They would people, dis-interested third parties, who listen for frequencies around the person.  That could be as simple as putting their own device in the ear of the person, if they're really that paranoid that someone will try to subconciously manipulate them.  (Note, Obama, you might want to let the secret service put a device in your ear so they can scan for frequencies around your most sensitive area, namely, your ear.)

I may be entirely wrong about a lot of this.  A lot of it is contradictory, after all.  But some of it might apply to someone, so I'm going to defend the right to smoke pot and think about it.  Bill Gates, get an ear thing.  Puff Daddy, get an ear thing.  Everybody who uses personal security...  Get an ear thing.  It will detect frequencies, it will determine as many as possible to be explainable as clear non-threats.  I.e. unless you are the secret service or any high-up law enforcement group, you're not going to be able to get every frequency and what's it for.  If you are law enforcement though, you can check for cell phones.  You would know who they belonged to, and you can be sure that someone unknown is not sending what looks like a cell phone message out.

That's really why I think law enforcement should be involved in the oversight of reality shows.  But not just any shmuck with a gun or a badge.  Someone who can get them information a private company could not.  Such as, the phone numbers of cell phones around a person, and matching them to a watch list.  Or, broadband connections, you could know which computers are sending messages, and, in general, what they were.

Fuck, dinner's here.

Anyway, a private company can do the computers thing.  They can't however do the cell phone thing.  But, if they do regular physicals on their reality stars, to make sure there are no implants of any kind by someone who is possibly shady (do you trust all beverly hills doctors).  They can be relatively safe if they just listen for frequencies around the person.  And then decode them as best they can without having law enforcement's help.  But if they did have law enforcement's help, they'd be a lot better at it.  Just something you rich, paranoid billionares should think about.

Wednesday, March 31, 2010 7:42 PM

Wednesday, March 31, 2010 8:01 PM

So, that wasn't too painful.  So, now what...  Oh, right, what made it seem like a computer?  It seemed there were a set of rules involved.  It was like a screenwriter with a computer, actually.  Someone very techie.  The computer would make sure that the person sending the questions or whatever, would not send anything that would be revealing of the person questioning (or interogating, depending on your point of view).  And one of the ways is to not say that it is a computer involved in the questioner's "script."  I believe there was, for I said to my mother say back to me "we are smarter than computers" and she did, but it didn't sound convincing, so I asked her to say it again.  It sounded convincing.  Her tone kept changing, like that of an actress reading the questions, be that a human or a non-human actress (my assumption is that it was a non-human actress).  She told me today though, "she couldn't exactly understand what I was saying."  Suggesting computer interference.  Computers, everwhere, wonderful, mysterious, computers.  A computer is used in some way in this manipulation of my reality, is what I think.  But it could all just be convenient timing and my own exceptional scriptwriting abilities.  But again, one of my conclusions is that I am not the smartest person in the world.  Currently that seems to belong to my mother, in my eyes.  But I do like to think myself as second (though that is damn egotistical, I know).  And well, I could come up with a great script to explain computer's being involved.  So, really, computers might not be, but they clearly aren't smarter than some humans.

Wednesday, March 31, 2010 8:08 PM

Tuesday, April 6, 2010 0:40 AM

Excuse me while I eats my ice cream.

Let me lay down some words

so you can heards

what i have gots to tell you

it's a cold wild world don't no one tell you different

or rather, go ahead and let them, you know better

it's also a warm easy universe, don't you forget it

in the dimension of touch a pleasure is known

and rhyme and rhythm go out like blown

or flown or drone for i do, yes i do

milk goes so great with ice cream

rocky road with whipped cream

ah delicious

i think i should do my own manga... no anime!

well, it wouldn't be anime, it would really just be badly drawn cat, ooo. i have flash now. anyway, i need to do some homework.

Tuesday, April 6, 2010 0:49 AM

Tuesday, April 6, 2010 2:28 AM

Do not let me forget to update my homework. i mean upload. i mean attach. I mean, fuck, I didn't even do as much as I wanted. Tomorrow I must work. But when I am done with school, I can concentrate on work. Or after work i will concentrate on school. One way or the other.

I really wanted to see the speaker for my grad program tonight. But my mother said I had to come straight home. I smoked some dispensory stuff. Feel damn good.

Time is a slippin'. I am a trippin'. And I feel alright. I miss my double space, but that's the way of the world... Or is it?! Why not allow the double space? It is so civilized after all.

I also changed the default color to white.  For I am white.  Like light.  But not right.  Definitely left.  Behind and off center.  And happy to be. 

And know that doesn't mean I think of that in skin color.  Oh no.  I am of inconsequential racial heritage (more than half irish for the curious).  I'm saying white being the opposite of dark.  I'm talking photons.  More photons.  Those are good. Anyway I did as much of my homework as I could considering all the other computer shit I've had to do since I've formatted three days ago, and I will be formatting another c drive tomorrow.

Tuesday, April 6, 2010 3:29 AM

Thursday, April 8, 2010 2:54 AM

I gave some girl my website address, so I'll have to section things off, as they will likely scare her away.  (By girl, of course, I mean knock-out crazy beautiful woman.)

Thursday, April 8, 2010 2:55 AM

Friday, April 9, 2010 0:04 AM

Ah...  Nicotine gum.

Must I always start with a damn food object?

I just sang very quietly out doors for the first time ever.  Not aware how many could hear me, not in the cacoon that is my car.

I got the impression that someone was thinking my performance was a reflection of all my ideologies...  Pretty much.

Nicotine isn't food.  And it's pretty good.  I got two pieces of 2 mg going right now.

And there is no sound, but that of the clickity clack that is my keyboard.

Sorry, took a minute to myself.  Bet you didn't notice it.  Anyway, fuck.  What was I going to say.

I wonder if it had to do with school.  Or maybe work.  They both have clickity clack.

I was thinking of school though, right before that sendbackspacemispelling now, malfunctioning, call mainenainance heh.

Okay, enough of that.

I need to think beyond myself, and my primal need to fly.  I do fly.  But not round fully rooted trees.

I ended it, kind of, with Ball of Confusion by the Temptations.  Damn, my jaw is getting a workout with this gum.  Must let it sit a while in the mouth.

I just went into auto mode.  And my cat didn't like it.  He wouldn't come to me.

Waits for cat psychic powers to persuade the cat to enter my room, on his own accord, of course.

Offers him psychic kibble.

These thoughts are not my own.  I know that when I am high.

I hurt no one.  I just want to write and sing and do art.  I'm a fucking hippie.  Who's really into black music.  Go fig.

But not just any, of course, but classic soul of the 60s, man, that shit is

Fun to sing to.

Hey, people, you want to know what I am typing right now?

Well, it's a legal copy, so i might as well tell you i'm in dreamweaver (oh my god, my panties are showing) 8.  So, if you openned this document in this, (can't remember if it is coder or designer, designer I'm sure) mode, almost all the defaults going, you could see the document as I was seeing it, when I was writing it.  Like a letter...  Almost...  Kinda.......

Oh, I remember now, why I needed my camera.  I wanted to take a picture of the drawing I made in my sketch book when I met meghan daum, I was very impressed.  Damn, I forgot to read her column today.

Notes: The paper is /out there/ and it is safe in here.  And the camera is even more out there. (oh god, no panties now.)

It is quiet though, besides the clickity of my keyboard.

Still, it's the thought that counts, and any tiny bit of publicity is nice.  Besides I gave her my three best pictures.  I can even tell you why they were.

Oh, and 8.3, by the way.

They just don't want to show it (after all, I did install the updates).

1) (none of these have names, hence her, very newspaper ...

Stephan has IMed, he is human, takes priority.

Friday, April 9, 2010 0:22 AM

Tuesday, April 27, 2010 11:21 PM

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okay here it is

tohsu

Which is just random letters.  Now for the time stamp, and I can get some food!

Tuesday, April 27, 2010 11:31 PM

Friday, May 7, 2010 4:12 AM

What about this color?  What to say? Should I be saying it in my memoir?  My memoir is shit.  I could keep writing in it, but where, to what end, etc.  I must ignore these thoughts.  I just want to talk about something outside of my memoir, well, at least not i don't know, I just lost any thought.

Anyway, you were saying?

Anyway, you were saying?

I've remade my heat-gun vaporizer!  Yes, a cheapest-to-buy heat gun at [major hardware store], a lamp dimmer switch, a "cheater" plug, and a bunch of other shit i didn't end up using.  For the bowl, I have a glass bowl that fits on a glass stem, glass to glass.  Then I have a hookah tube that I bought on [major etailer], along with ... o fuck it.  i'm just going to say the name of the places.  Home Depot.  Amazon.  The glass stuff, I got that at a random head shop. And on Amazon I bought the jar, it's probably 48 ounces, though I could have sworn it said 60 ounces--but that could have been for the whole set--all three had cork tops of course.

4:20!  Woot.  Fuck...  I have been awake too long.  Goodnight.

Friday, May 7, 2010 4:25 AM

Saturday, May 8, 2010 9:35 PM

I think I should do more writing in the memoir... no, wait, i'm singing... no wait, there's only so much time for everything.  The abilify has made me fat, i have gained 10 pounds.  Oh dear, I have an email, I must see if I have received.  Mm, seems it may be a bit stringent to read.  i will try.

okay, now i gotta respond.

Saturday, May 8, 2010 9:45 PM

Saturday, May 8, 2010 10:01 PM

Fair enough.

I got at least one, maybe two emails. I didn't respond because I wasn't sure yet what to think. Not that I am any more sure now.

I live in reality 99% of the day, for every time I think I am not in reality, it is quick, like a moment. Then it passes, a thought occurs to me, as part of the game I play, as part of my hobby, as part of my addiction, as part of my ennui. I don't know.

Where does ones ruminations, wonders, and imaginations, turn into psychosis, and delusions, and even "magical thinking"--as my first psychiatrist pointed it out. It's just something about me, because I think it is plausible to happen to someone, if not me, someone else of immense talent. The appeal is there, the question is who has the resources, would they gamble on such a thing of questionable morality? With reality shows being the way they are, I'd have to say, yes. Should they, or did they, pick me? I always have to pause when I think of that. Probability says no, Occam's Razor says no, science says... I'm not sure what science says, am I to think of my potential as being so limited? That I would not be a target of something I could see easily happening to many less talented than myself--or at least my own perception?

And it is on this that it delves into fiction. It is going against probability and fact. Fact, regardless of whatever I think, I am sure there are a lot more who think otherwise. (I'm glad you don't mind the being stoned, for I am.) I am glad you don't hate me, but you fear me, and I feel that from others as well. It is the burden I get for letting out these little thoughts that just pass quickly, but tantalize so. It's my own imaginary world, where everyone is a character, whether they like it or not, whether I like it or not.

Clearly, you've read my blog, so, I am flattered. And have great admiration for you. Let me say that I am going to post this email (my part only), as I think it interesting.

--name2

Saturday, May 8, 2010 10:01 PM

Sunday, May 9, 2010 0:50 AM

This isn't the first time I've written that I was going to share something in email online, but i am curious as to how it is received.  I probably shouldn't say anything, in fact, I won't.  I won't say any more about the subject, not until, well, shit.  I already openned the subject here...  I didn't get any "I didn't like that" vibe...  Which is good.  Hmm, I wonder what I should do for the next chapter of my memoir...

Focus.  You are eating too much.  I know, i've gone from 6'1" 175 lbs to 182 lbs.  It may have something to do with the increased Abilify dosage.  It could be because Satan made food so tasty.  Its one of my few freedoms, I can eat until I stuff myself, middle class opulence.  food is no longer status enough for me.  Now, if i lived alone, I wouldn't have these crackers, so I would be quite thin.  BUT NO.  I live at home.  So I just increase in size.

I should live alone just so I can lose some g-- damn weight.  (Should I curse if I am going through a crisis of faith?  I think I won't, to be safe.)  Unless I have a girlfriend who is ridiculously beautiful but doesn't care what I look like, and in fact encourages me to be slothful and fat, I don't think I'll be 185 for very long--or that I'll get any heavier.  For, you see, I need to use my laziness to my advantage.  And that means not having food at the house. No temptation.  I don't do well with temptation.

That's it, I'm telling my mother to stop buying foods I like, except cereal.  Either that, or I have to swear to myself to eat nothing but cereal.  Okay, that's the deal. Whenever I get munchies, I eat cereal.  For this is ridiculous.  I just keep eating and eating.  There is a limit, however, one can have of cereal, if it is all I am willing to give myself, then it will be all that I will eat, when I am home and corpulent.  Besides, eating cereal means being in the kitchen, that reduces the amount of times I will be there, right there.

Okay, I think I'll celebrate my new cereal diet with a bowl of cereal.

Sunday, May 9, 2010 1:09 AM

Wednesday, May 12, 2010 9:43 PM

In life, when all else fails, write.  If writing fails...  Then, I don't know, become an accountant.

Me?  I'm a writer.  I have been for many years, I am proud of being a writer.  But I would never go so far as to say it was easy.

Oh sure, something like this, this is easy.  This is just my thoughts, but they aren't good, pretty thoughts, I mean, they aren't fancy or special.  They are simply thoughts, whatever I happen to have at the time.  Right now, my thoughts are rather bland.  But here you are, privvy to them.

I hide nothing.  Well, almost nothing. There are two things I have told people about that I am not proud of, and while they have gotten me a few jokes at my expense, they have never been deemed that bad, or anything I should hide...  I don't know, I'm not completely confessional feeling today.

I just went to a mass/funeral for a priest.  His name was...  Well, his name doesn't matter.  He was a good soul, a kind old man, funny, had great jokes, had sermons you actually wanted to listen to.  But he was 91, he was bound to die, and, indeed, likely while I was still living at home.  I had seen him for maybe 2 years however.

Heh, it was funny.  After the funeral, I talked to some recent catholic converts.  One of them actually likes me, I mean, she is interested in me.  If only I felt the same.  I double check to make sure I am not merely dismissing her because she is interested me--and yes, I do not put that past me. 

My, this heatgun vaporizer is acting quite nicely.  I can't quite hold the tube in my mouth and type though.  But I have it on a low dimmer switch setting right now, and it is vaporizing without burning very very nicely.

Wednesday, May 12, 2010 9:54 PM