Take Advice From Fools

Robot Brain

Don’t listen to anything I say. I go on like I got this sage wisdom. Nobody is talking to me today. I’m afraid I messed life up with my daughter. I woke this morning thinking I texted my daughter a little about the music we both like. That was Tuesday! Today is Friday! I was texting her non stop crazy shit for days. She wasn’t answering. I imagined she was responding and we were having a conversation. This morning I texted, Good morning, (heart emoji) like any other morning. She said, I love you, heart emoji) It was her first reply since Tuesday.

Since I started telling everyone about SuperUnknown and Chris Cornell killing himself at my age. I am thinking there is some incredible coincidence. No! Millions of people listen to that album. I was fucking delusional!

It wasn’t only her, it was her mom, she sent a text, saying don’t text after 10 pm go back and read what you wrote. She telling I am not trying to help myself. I didn’t argue but my doctors been telling me for years I am going to get progressively worse. I”m taking my meds, I’m keeping my appts. I was even sleeping and eating on a fairly strict schedule. I asked for a therapist months ago and after a long time I finally said to my case manager, what the heck is going on with the therapist??? Now I have one.

Then my mom thinks it’s cause I drink. It’s true but I”m not drinking all the time. She is getting back to her place in an hour… I want to ask her if she thinks I was drinking Thanksgiving weekend? I was with her 24/7, I don’t keep booze stashed in the house. What was I doing? Talking to her non stop and sleeping for an hour or two and talking to her. She can see all I have is water and Pepsi?

I want to ask, was I drinking that day I spent crying in Panera? No… The day I did the crazy 6 hour meditation and wouldn’t stop raving about it? No.. I can’t meditate for more than 30 seconds if I have a beer. I was drinking this week but I stopped When I ran out wed/thur am… I know it makes it worse but mania causes euphoria and lack of judgement and the delusions certainly don’t help!

Everyone else on my phone! Fr—- M—-, I was pissed at her and I wanted her to come over and have sex. I know she wouldn’t I just wanted to get back at her for lying to me. I know that would piss her off but I exlained it to her. She didn’t remember she explained it to me years ago. When we first met, I told her we couldn’t ever have sex and then we did a few year ago one day and that was when she disappeared. She siad she forgot all about that. I hope we are done talking.

I don’t care about any of that shit. I don’t know how much my daughter knew about me before but she didn’t know I was this crazy! I tried to explain today, but felt like I was making it worse and I was. I am going to wait until tonight and say, “goodnight, I love you! She is 16 I don’t want to scare her!

This is Where The Party Ends

“… Out from the kitchen to the bedroom to the hallway
Your friend apologizes, he could see it my way
He let the contents of the bottle do the thinking
Can’t shake the devil’s hand and say you’re only kidding”

“Your Racist Friend” They Might Be Giants

Time to hit the brakes. I don’t know what the fuck I’ve been doing. These stories aren’t funny. All weekend I’m saying, delete freakin’ Bumble! I wake up Monday and I already have a new message. “How was your weekend?”, “Great! You?, “Fantastic! I just hiked my first 4,000 footer!”, “Wow! I would love to listen to you tell me all about it.”, “You would have to send your number to do that.”, I sent my number. A couple hours later she sent her’s back with her real name.

What the fuck am I doing? Monday the woman I met last week was already coming over to soak my bed again after she gets out of work. I like her. Why am I trying to find someone else? I delete the people I was matched with on the app but I couldn’t delete the app. But no more swiping, that’s a step in the right direction. Fuck it! I texted my friend, “Sorry to uninvite you [some lame excuse].

Last week I asked my case manager what the hold up was with getting a new therapist. I guess I fell through the cracks. I am on the list again. Tuesday I texted her to ask if Seacoast was running any online support groups. She said she would look into it. I thought there must be some kind of shit. I googled and found something. I made an account but didn’t want to schedule the zoom because it isn’t for a couple weeks and who knows if I will remember.

My brain is still running. Now I’m wondering if there are dating sites for people with mental illnesses? That sounds just crazy enough to work. Yes, but they all look like scams. Okay, good. But there are “social networks” for people with disabilities. Whatever… Now I have something to do. A lot of those looked like scams but I joined one that looked like facebook for people with disabilities including mental illnesses. I made a fake account to see if there was anyone on there. Nope. There was a chat area with nobody in it.

This other site kept coming up that looked like a scam but for some reason, I kept looking at it. It had only popped up in one random search. I googled to see if it was a scam, nothing came up. But I don’t know? Again, I put in my email and little info and got a page that said they need 5 buck from paypal or my phone number to verify me. Seriously? Why am I doing this? I sent my number. After a couple hours, nothing, see? I knew it was a scam.

About 5pm my phone rang with a Canadian number. I almost didn’t pick it up, but something clicked. I answered and it’s some old broad calling about the website. She said she created it and she verifies everyone to keep out scammers. I’ll get an email giving me access, Make sure I check out the chatroom at 8pm, they have a dj playing music and they have a lot of fun… ??? Okay, now I can look at the site. It’s well made, there are no people in my area but they have a chatroom and a radio station with the DJ schedule. There is a picture of the woman who called me and the story behind why she started the site. I think I will check it out later.

I didn’t feel like cooking and walked to the store for some food, might as well pick up a 12 pack for the chat. WHAT? Too late now…

I got into the chat and there is only one person there, I said hello, he said hi. I asked if anyone goes in there. He said pretty soon. Okay, not too much going on. Then a few people popped in and the first guy said, “Hey, L—-, we got a new guy” It’s her! The 75 year old woman who called me later. She says she is so glad I made it and introduced me to everyone and got me involved in the conversation.

After an hour, I got a buzz, tunes are playing, these people are fun! They really were though. I feel like I was 20 again. I told them I haven’t done this since the 90’s, same music and everything. Extra fuel for my mania…. Oh yeah, I was the life of the party. She didn’t seem to mind. When she went to bed around 11pm she said she hoped I liked it and would come back again. Oh yeah!

I didn’t realize until the next morning. I was hearing their voices while I was talking to them. I wasn’t on Zoom, it was text only on my desktop. But I was talking and I could hear them. A couple guys stayed on after she left but nobody was talking. I asked one guy, “What do you like?”, “I don’t know”, “What do you mean you don’t know? You must like something.”, “I really like trains”, “Cool, what do you like about trains?”, “I don’t know”, “You must know, that is pretty specific thing to like.” He starts telling me. It’s pretty cool, Now we’re talking, I tell him what I like about trains. I tell him when we were kids the freight train had to slow down when it passed through our town and we would run alongside and hop it for a ride to Boston for the day. That lasted a while but then it was just me and the first guy. He is quiet again. I should have said good night. I didn’t. I said I know why I am coming back, what keeps you coming? I don’t know? You don’t know!

I thought I went to bed but I remember I stayed up on my tablet, and checked mental health dating in the app store. Luckily I had the faculties to know they were scams. But the weird thing is I checked sober dating apps. I’m shitfaced and I’m going to join a sober dating app? Makes sense. I almost did it too. They were based on 12 steps though. Good night.

Morning comes and I’m depressed. What the fuck am I doing? Yeah it was fun for a few hours but now I’m shit. A real piece of shit. But I was hoping I could do it again tonight. Sober this time though… Yeah right. This is not a good idea at all. Winter is coming and I’m home alone all the time? Hit the brakes!

Still in bed, kicking my own ass, crying. All the good stuff. My phone chimes, it’s fucking Bumble! What the fuck. I haven’t been on my phone. It’s a first message. A woman took the time to write, “Why would anyone want to go out with a guy who is already planning on saying or doing something that would cause her to throw her coffee in his face? You can do better…” Okay… She couldn’t see my whole profile is one big joke? The whole point is to show I’m not taking the app seriously. But she could have just swiped left… She had to tap that out on her phone?

I typed, “Was that a rhetorical question?”. I deleted the app!

Then I got on my computer and deleted all the stupid shit from yesterday…. Except for the chat. Instead I sent the owner an email saying,

Hi L—-, Thank you so much for going through the trouble of adding me. I got over excited and disrupted the chat. I think I may have put people off and made them feel less free to talk. I’m not sure I should come back.Thank you,

Why did I do that?

That was a few hours ago and I sat down to type this out and cook my “Power Brain Stew” ,which set off the smoke alarm but I think I saved it in time. I was doing great. I did all the prep, set the timer twice for each step, threw the lentils in and forgot to set the timer. Sitting here typing and listening to a meeting and can’t figure out why it smells funny in here. Oh shit! Just in time. The alarm in my apartment went off for a bit but I opened the windows. I was seconds away from setting off the alarm for the entire building! WTF.

I just got an email now, from L—–,

No you were delightful…You should not feel this way. I think both A— and myself really enjoyed speaking with you. I was actually waiting for you tonight. A— is on tomorrow 7 to 9…do come..People get quiet sometimes because we are in with the same people every night…It happens ..not to worry about that..Glad you sent me a message.Hope to see you.

I don’t know what to do. She isn’t trying to make any money off me. She said she gets like 90 bucks a month from people who send the $5. I saw her story on YouTube. She goes to church, she doesn’t drink. She was in a car accident and homebound for 10 years so she started the website.

So I wasn’t imagining it was fun just because I was drunk.

I’m so stupid.


Unplugged, disconnected, resurrected, deconstruct me, it’s you who fucked me, with your body and mind, it’s your soul I can’t find. Finish the job, don’t leave it undone, your pleasure’s my pain, do you do it for fun?

It was because my brain was defective and needed correction. You didn’t know I was avoiding detection from cops and killers, men with weapons and this insurrection, trying to wipe me out, deny my birthright.

You didn’t know it was my family I was trying to save.

Men floating in space want to destroy the human race and the voice says,”Don’t say, save face, they’ll put you away for the rest of you life. Can you imagine being locked up, three meals a day? They’ll electrify your brain, try to make you think their way.”

I kept my mouth shut for as long as I could until I broke and I caved and I ratted myself out.

You were there with me, heard what I had to say. My final mistake of many. I scared you away.

Dearly Beloved

Robot Brain

“I sat with my anger long enough until she told me her real name was grief.” C.S. Lewis

The other night when they were setting the topics I wasn’t going to say anything but the first two topics were basic “Read The Fucking Manual” questions. I thought seriously? We are going to spend an hour talking about how to fill out a worksheet about the pros and cons of using? So I spoke up and they added recurring grief to the list. I don’t think it was out of line. What do people do after a funeral? They go to somebody’s house and get shitfaced and cry.

They spent most of the meeting on it but nobody hit the nail on the head. All I can remember now is the one guy who had to chime in with, “You have to learn to deal with your emotions sometimes, ‘Life on Life’s Terms.” Thanks genius. How ’bout I come over there and slap the dick out of your mouth? I don’t have to come to meetings anymore. Your slogan solved all my problems. Can I put that on a bumper sticker? Or did you fucking copyright it?

I hate that shit. That’s why I don’t go to these meetings. They make huge assumptions and project their life onto mine. Oh, this guy is older and he’s new here. He must have just crawled out of the bottle after 30 years of drinking and has no idea how to live life.

If the fucking guy had paid attention, he would have heard that I had dealt with it for years and thought I was over it and I haven’t been suppressing it, that’s why I didn’t understand why the pain came back just as strong after more than 5 years.

But luckily yesterday, it happened again. “Right place at the right time.” I was in a great mood until I left the stove on high and burnt the lentils. Fuck! Whatever. Perfect opportunity to walk over to the store and get a big greasy breakfast sandwich. Awesome! Sausage, egg and cheese on a raisin bagel. Decision made. Eggs florentine? That’s new. (Spinach again? weird) Looks like I’m getting two. Do I want a coffee? Sure, why not? I got to the register and I’ve seen woman a few times but I don’t usually go there in the morning. “How are you doing?” Great! How are you? “Fantastic! Coffee is on me today” Thank you. Crisis averted.

I don’t know why I wake up so early in the morning there is never anything to do. Do I really want to listen to another one of those meetings? It would kill an hour and a half. The worst thing is I don’t like it and log off. I looked up the schedule and one had started 20 minutes earlier. There is no law about logging in late. “Click”

What is the topic? Grief! Who is about to start talking? Regular Joe Sixpack looking guy. But I start laughing my ass off when he opens his mouth and the stereotypical hollywood gay guy voice comes out. Oh my god! He’s queer as a three dollar bill. I didn’t even notice the rainbow scarf around his neck. I’m not gay bashing, it was just the incongruity. He was my favorite person at the meeting. He spoke to my problem directly like he knew I was coming. He talked about grieving over the loss of a relationship and it’s cyclical and he’s working with his therapist and all that is normal. Exactly what I was going through.

When he finished talking I didn’t want to go on microphone so I texted in the chat. “Thank you so much, J—, I asked this question in a meeting a few nights ago but you gave me the perfect answer today.” He answered, “I’m so glad, ‘heart emoji'”, I said, “heart emoji.” But then they put up that fucking quote. How have I never heard that quote before? I know C.S. Lewis. Apparently it’s very popular. But, What the fuck?

How did I deal with my grief yesterday, Mr. AA Guru? Did I get drunk? No. I had myself a good cry and texted N—, “Good morning, powerful person” and I didn’t bring it up with her because she’s got her own shit going on and I’m not her responsibility anymore. The hardest part, the pure pain, was over a couple days ago, so there was just a little more crying. Then I moved on to another issue I’ve been working on which is changing my reactions to assholes like you. Why am I still pissed off 3 days later? You don’t remember it. You don’t know you’re a fucking moron. I’m making it my problem and stressing myself out.

What emotion am I dealing with today? Anger. How am dealing with it? By getting fucked up? No. I’m writing about it like I have done my whole life. I’m sick of these people thinking I suddenly came to some realization. I’ve been dealing with this shit my entire life. I’ve been reading about it since I learned to read. I had no idea why. Back then it was, “manic-depressive”, I saw it written a million times. Didn’t know what it meant.

Oh yeah, grief. I got sent to a LADC once. That dude was a freak. I don’t remember how it came up but I told him it was the anniversary of my mother-in-law’s death and I had asked my ex-wife how she was doing. He got pissed off and yelled at me, “STOP PLAYING GOD! You’re not responsible for her feelings! If she is still grieving after so long she belongs in therapy” (Umm… Yeah, she is in therapy, thank you. so am I, asshole.) Then he went on for the rest of the hour while I sat there wondering what I could say not to set him off next time.

I’m serious, Tuesday mornings I would spend an hour with my real therapist trying to come up with strategies to deal with the crazy LADC guy I had to meet in the afternoon. The first meeting I had with him he lied to me and said I was committed to him for the full 20 weeks because I had made an appointment and showed up. What? I called the people in charge of the program and they said, “I don’t know why he would say that.” (He lied)

He was a big Tea Party guy and almost every week he would say something about “Big Government.” I’m thinking, dude, I’m on disability, big government is paying you to sit here and bitch to me about big government. The only reason you are rich (besides being born into it) is your whole practice is based on referrals from the court system. Big Government. This guy would not stand for any disagreement. I found that when he argued about my diagnosis. He was wrong but I let him go. Big fucking copy of the DSM sitting there on the table, look it up.

I didn’t bring it up but for some reason he spent the whole second meeting talking about the 2nd amendment and the right to bear arms, blah blah, he ended, “are we to the point where they are kicking down doors and taking our guns?…. Not yet.” Fucking guy knows I’m schizo and the reason I’m in his office is indirectly related to a suicide attempt. Why is he trying to convince me I need a gun? I’m at home looking online to see how much they cost and shit and my girlfriend had to talk me down. That’s another thing. He would make racist comments. Good thing I didn’t mention my girlfriend is black. I was stressed, I had know idea what was safe to say around this guy.

One meeting he spent the hour talking about god. He started out about AA and higher power and telling me it doesn’t have to be god, it could be, “Group Of Drunks” or, “Good Orderly Direction”, I’m thinking, why does it have to be the acronym G.O.D.? Then he went on to tell me how to pray, when to pray, how many times a day to pray… The whole fucking hour. I just sat there. The most he ever talked about alcohol or drugs was about half our meetings he would start by asking what the speaker had to say at the AA meeting Friday night. I would start to tell him and he would interrupt after a few sentences and tell me how long the speaker had been sober, why they asked him to speak, he probably relapsed a lot…. (Like he was at the meeting right next to me. Whatever, I’ll let him tell it ) then onto whatever was on his mind that week. I knew how much he saved each month by refinancing his house. He spent an hour bitching about calling tech support. Dismissing the whole country of India. Like, when was the last time he learned a 2nd language just to get a job? Any of this was better than him trying to focus on mental illness because he had some bizarre ideas.

Finally I had my case manager go in with me to ask him to stick to substance abuse issues and leave the mental health to my doctor and therapist. I was going to do the talking but at the last minute I changed my mind. Good thing I did because she didn’t even finish the first sentence before he flipped out and yelled at us to get out of his office and on and on and good luck finding another LADC to accept me. (I had one the next week) we were walking out and he’s still yelling. “God has held my hand for 14 years!…” I did the math and figured out he spent 12 years treating people for alcohol abuse while he was a practicing alcoholic. Nice.

I asked the next LADC not to tell me god could cure my mental illness. She asked me why I said it and I told her about him. She said that was certainly unprofessional.

I wrote a complaint the board of mental health. I called first and the woman said I would have to write to the board of LADC if I wanted to make a separate complaint. I told her I didn’t care about that I just didn’t think he should be practicing mental health treatment on my cat, never mind a person.

My case manager and therapist had to go testify and then a few months later I had to go testify. I was in a room with about 8 other people and they said one of them was the head of the department in charge of LADC’s. Things were getting pretty serious. I was told specifically I had to write a separate letter of complaint to get her involved, I did not write a separate letter. I was nervous because they put a recording device on the table and started asking me questions. But first they told me they were very impressed with my writing skills. They went through the letter with me and asked if there was anything else. I started talking and remembering a ton of stuff I didn’t even write about. The letter I sent them was 3 fucking pages!

A while ago I googled to see if this asshole was still in business. I saw his obituary! He died young at 60. No cause of death listed. I was thinking probably liver cancer but secretly I hoped he had a heart attack because I caused him to lose his license.

See. I have to learn to let things go. I’m working on it.

Yesterday the woman from the meditation group texted me through whatsapp to make sure I knew the schedule of their meetings. I logged on last night and figured it out. There were three meditation groups based on this particular yoga practice and they all had a big framed picture of the same woman and they would show a clip of her speaking. They talked a little about who she was and she started the practice in 1974, blah, blah…. OMG! This is a cult! They are trying to indoctrinate me! They worship her. I’m serious, they started the meditation, “Mother, Please forgive us…” The woman in the picture is who they called Mother. I bailed out of there!

A little while later she texted me saying, I hope our talk didn’t disturb you. I said, No, it wasn’t you. I have another issue. She said something. I was going to just leave it but I was bored and so much strange shit has been happening, I had to push it. I eased into it but of course I knew she would be into synchronicity. I told her a little and she said, You’re spirit is guiding you! But when I told her the coincidence wasn’t her meditation group but that she was a LADC. She lost interest and ghosted me. I told her directly I wasn’t trying to use her as a counselor. I just thought the whole thing was weird. Meditation practices go back thousands of years. How did all these people started worshiping a woman from 1974? I’m not drinking the Kool-Aid.

My new meditation buddies have another meeting at noon today. I really hope I get the see that guy roll out of bed. He is my new role model. I’m trying to get back in time. I have to leave hear at 11 but maybe a few minutes earlier.

Questionable Behavior

I was originally going to write a post about whether I am depressed or despondent. Technically I believe I am despondent. I did a quick search and they seem interchangeable. I still feel more despondent. (hopeless) \

I have been thinking about this a lot and I said fuck it all! My main concern since this last spring has been my mental health treatment. I developed a severe form of the side effect akathesia from 20 years of antipsychotics. I told my doctor and my case manager multiple times I was skipping doses every other day because I could not take care of myself and it was making me suicidal. My doctor tried the standard protocol, which did not work at all. After that, on July 15th he called me and said, “Your medications are making you worse, It is called the paradoxical effect.. It means..” I interrupted him and said, You mean my whole life had been one big fucking side effect?” He stopped me and asked it I want therapy. I thought, how the hell is therapy going to stop this terrible side effect? I told him, “I don’t know…” He told me to make an appointment in two weeks. I thought, What is going to happen in two weeks? He didn’t make any med changes after what he said.. I need a month to think about this. Maybe I just need some therapy to think about the last 20 years of meds making me worse.

Approximately 2 weeks later I texted my case manager and said, “Jim gave up on me, said, fuck off, find a therapist.” She said, “Seriously?” I said, “Paraphrasing” and repeated what he said. She asked what I wanted to do? New doctor? Therapist? I didn’t think a new doctor would do anything. They all work together and have drinks I imagine. I told my therapist and she said she would put in a referral. I saw her in person and I was ranting but I was asking a serious question, “Can he ethically continue to prescribe a medication he knows is making me worse? I kept repeating the question. She remained silent. That is her way of not lying to me. I changed my mind and told her I wanted to switch doctors. She asked me to talk to him one more time. I met one more time with him and told her again I want to change doctors. She didn’t respond. still don’t know why I was putting all this time and effort and stress and anxiety into forcing myself into taking a medication my doctor said was making me worse and was making me suicidal. I accidentally found magnesium which helped the side effects but not for long. I told him about it and said I think I can tolerate enough doses of the Latuda to safely taper off. He immediately told me he wanted me to double it. I told him truthfully, I am on the lowest dose I have ever been and the only thing that has gotten worse is the akathesia. He started saying he thought I would be “safer” and “More protected” at double the dose. These sounded like threats from my doctor to put me in the hospital and force me to take a medication that is making me suicidal. I agreed to increase the dose.

There is much more to this story but I don’t want to make it public. I want to call a lawyer… Should I? If my doctor wants to keep me “safe”? Why would he continue to prescribe me a med I told him is making me suicidal? I’m not lying to him. I have looked into my state’s mental health lawyers but they want all you personal information and your story before you have a case. They also say you should informally discuss it with your doctor beforehand. I thought I already did that. My best choice which I am against is a cheesy personal injury lawyer. The statute of limitations on psychiatrist malpractice is 3 years in my state. All of this is withing the time frame. There are also special circumstances which exceed the statute of limitations. I think I may fall into that category. I was never hospitalized until after I started these antipsychotics. My doctor also said to me, would you be surprised if I told you I “guessed” you had psychosis during our first appointment. He put me on powerful mind altering super addictive drugs on a guess? Would you call a lawyer?

I may call the sleazy lawyer tomorrow. It may be the only way to be forced injections or indefinite hospitalization in the future.

This is only half the story. Last year I already figured out the “Paradoxical reaction” I just didn’t know it had a name. Every time I quit a medication. I felt better.


What the hell is going on around here? That is a rhetorical question. I can explain. I’ve had a Twitter account since 2009. I mostly follow small accounts of people I think are funny but also some well known comedians or comedy writers. In the past few years with so much political upheaval, the funny people first went to political jokes and then stopped trying to be funny and went straight up political. A lot of the smaller accounts stopped posting altogether. My timeline was getting depressing. I started another account in February. I was having a lot of mental health issues and my mindset was negative thoughts. I decided I would only post positive messages and follow people with positive messages and repost positivity. I’m not exactly inspirational but you get the idea. I follow about 300 people and have maybe 100 following me.

Soon after I started the account I got a DM from someone. The only person to do it. I never send messages to people. My account gives no indication of my gender and their account gave no indication of their gender. Their posts were similar to mine. I figured it was a guy because they were asking me kind of personal questions. Maybe they thought I was a woman because of what I wrote. I couldn’t guess who was behind the account. It is a small locked account. They liked a lot of my posts but also a lot of other people’s posts. We had a short back and forth and I found a good point to not reply. Then my akathesia started and I really couldn’t do much on the internet because I could not concentrate or sit down for more than a few minutes. So Twitter fit well with that. My posts are short and concise and I could scroll a little and repost. But I was not very active.

I August when I started feeling better and spending more time online I was awake one night in the twilight zone. I remembered the message and reread the conversation. On impulse I wrote, “What the hell were you expecting of me?” I got a reply soon after. It was a long message, I don’t remember what it said but they seemed upset by my question. I responded, “I love you”. They came back, “That was way back in February , why are you answering now and why did you think I expected something from you?” I told them why I started the account and they told me they started their account for the same reason. Then asked, “Second, why did you tell me you love me.” I said, “To spread some positivity.” They said it made them happy and I was doing a good job. We messaged back and forth sporadically and I figured out it was a woman when she told me she had her heart broken by a man recently. It didn’t matter to me but it was another person to talk to and she is interesting.

Last week she started sending me long ass messages one after the other. I knew she was into spirituality and mysticism, but started to get pretty far out there. I began to wonder but I thought a lot of people believe in some crazy shit but that doesnt mean they are crazy. She started hinting around she was in the process of a business deal that would make her millions but no specifics. At the same time she said she was moving to a smaller apartment and needed a roomate. I wondered where the million dollar idea went but I kept my mouth shut.

Monday she went off about her car got impounded for parking tickets and she couldn’t afford to get it back and other money problems but some people helped her. Okay, She’s not a millionaire, she doesn’t own a mansion and a yacht. Still interesting conversation. Then out of the blue she asked if I wanted to see some lingerie pics she had taken recently or if she was daring maybe some of the nudes? What? Sure, send whatever you are comfortable. She sent me picture after picture, each more revealing and it turned into some straight up rated X. This girl was smoking! I figured I was getting catfished but she wasn’t trying to get anything out of me so I went along and complimented her a bit. She said, “You are one lucky man, I get $100 for each of those, I’m about to make $600 in a few, pays my rent.” I said you just gave me a thousand worth, I guess I am pretty lucky. I didn’t know what to think. I’ve seen plenty of pics of nude women so they don’t do a lot for me. We both went to bed.

Last night, Tuesday, I got home around 10pm and checked to see if there were any more messages. We talked as if she never sent the pics. I’m not sure how we got on the subject I think she mentioned things about anxiety and negative thought patterns and trying to keep track of her moods. As I was reading it at a random time the three dots showed up indicating she was typing at the same time I was typing, I got it out first saying careful about keeping track of every little detail, for months I was taking noted on my pocket calendar and driving myself crazy flipping through trying to figure out what happened when, what was important or not, what the hell all my shorthand stood for, half of it made no sense. She sent her message at the same time, it was long as fuck, talking about she is using Excel spreadsheets to keep track of synchronicities and noticing a pattern and her life is affected by something bigger than this Universe and all kinds of crazy shit.

I thought it again for the hundredth time in my life! What the fuck? She is schizo too! How the hell do they find me. I gave no indication of any mental illness in my postings. My bio says, “I am you from another dimension” and my pinned tweet is, “Get in your spaceship and explore your universe”. The most I said and reposted were jokes about anxiety I thought were funny. One of my posts was, “Kats>Klonopin”, so what? Everyone has anxiety. I’m telling you I attract Schizophrenics. I don’t advertise, they seek me out.

We talked about some of that and she got on the subject of having her heart broken and 3 years of shit and he chose another woman. Whatever, I tried to say something helpful, then she said, “I never even held him in my arms, he was never mine to have. It’s all in my head.” I’m thinking she made this guy up? I asked her a few questions, okay, he was real, she was in love but he chose another woman. We talked for hours and it was getting a little depressing, me thinking about my own failed relationships. I said, “Hey”, “What?”, “Do you have any chocolate at your place?”, “No, I wish”, I guess I won’t tell you about the chocolate I just found in my freezer.” Good, I change the subject and she stopped talking the guy and we went on about the food we were eating, Nothing serious, getting really late like 4am, she asked if she was an ancient goddess which one would she be? I said, Aphrodite. She got excited and said that is me! Those are the tattoos I have covering my body. Her symbols. She gave me 2.5 points for that, we had a joke she had me on a scoring system for each time I made her laugh or got an answer correct.

She said something about dying, I told her she would live forever in my mind. “Wow, where did that come from?”. “4am bullshit.” (true), “I guess we can chalk it up to that”, “No, actually you are indelible”. I said a lot of shit last night. I can be impressive but this girl is way out of my league. I am like Cyrano hiding in the bushes feeding the appealing guy lines.

5am. She told me I had an hour to get 1.5 points. Ha ha. No pressure. Then she started sexting me. I was not expecting that. I went along. Sexting is exciting the first time but after that it gets boring if it’s not going to lead to the real thing quickly. I have no illusions about her hopping on a bus to New Hampshire from NYC and falling in love with my old, ugly ass. I wasn’t really taking it seriously because I have no idea who she is on the internet. But then I found out she was real. She sent a close up picture of her, umm… “using” something she had been holding in one of the original set of pictures she sent the night before. Okay, I’m interested. 6am, she told me I scored 10 points in the hour. We have achieved the Rapture. We both went to bed. I haven’t checked if she messaged me again. I can’t figure out how I find these people but I like it. Synchronicity?

Love’s Labour’s Lost

Robot Brain

“I’m on the outside, I’m looking in
I can see through you, see your true colors
‘Cause inside you’re ugly, you’re ugly like me
I can see through you, see to the real you”

“Outside” Staind

I texted a link to this song to my ex-wife, N____, Saturday morning. “This had me ugly crying”, It’s not like it was, “our song” or anything. I’m sure she has heard it before but I don’t know if she likes it or what. It stemmed from the text conversation we had Friday afternoon, after/during my outdoor, public panic attack.

“I’m having a meltdown” I know it’s not fair. She isn’t responsible for me after all these years apart. “What’s going on”, I told her about my freaking out after the simple job of changing the tire on my bike ended with me overfilling the tire with air at the store next door and it exploded. It’s pretty funny, but now I am still without my bike and summer is coming to a close. The bike expands my travel range 20 fold. The worst was the loud bang made like ten people at the store turn and look. I threw my hands in the air to say, “Yes, it was me” and picked up the tire to leave.

“Take a shower, it will calm you down”, “I’m in bed slowing down my breathing, my arms and hand are numb, It’s okay, I just fucked up, it was stupid.” “oh, good.” “The worst part was walking past all these people crying and hyperventilating.” “That’s okay, I’ve seen you like that before and I still love you, fuck them!” “Ha ha, Thanks.” “Listen to music, it helps me relive things.” “I haven’t been able to listen to my music, never know if it will bring up good memories or bad.” “That’s what I like about it, I’ve been listening to Pearl Jam, Ten, it came out 30 years ago today.”

Oh my fucking God! 30 fucking years. What happened? “I can’t do it, I can’t listen to anything with lyrics, I get too emotional.” “okay.” “I got Chillhop streaming on youtube no words just beats.” “….”, “How have you been doing lately?” “Pretty good, just today.” “You seemed pretty manic last week.” (I can see through you, See to the real you) “Just anxiety.” (I lied)

Saturday, I woke up and said, “Fuck this,” I hit the power button on the radio/docking unit that holds my iPod classic for the first time in months. Jesus Christ, how old is this thing? 2005? Still fucking works… No bluetooth, no wi-fi, plugs into the wall, charges the iPod but 4 D cell batteries if you want to go “wireless”. Ha ha, What the fuck?

It was okay, I don’t remember the songs that came on first. They brought back memories, but of course, they are my songs, I chose them. Then it came,

“Just last night I was reminded of just how bad
It had gotten and just how SICK I had become
But it could change with this relationship
De-de range we’ve all been through some shit…”

You know the rest. Fuck, The Violent Femmes… My first “true love” put it on my turntable the first night she spent at my house. It was new to me, I didn’t know how popular it would become. I liked it. I remember after it finished, I said, “Wow, these chicks are pretty good.” Ha ha, pretty funny. I didn’t really need to hear that, but not too bad. I think the Black Eyed Peas after. Something I downloaded the whole album cause it didn’t have any meaning to me and it was upbeat and funny. Good break. A song I got from my daughter, “Come on Over” Royal Blood. Good… First song she learned when she got really good at playing the bass. She was so excited the day she got the Big Muff distortion pedal so she could sound like him. She recorded herself playing and sent it to me through the phone. She is good. I recognized the song within the first few notes. She had it down.

Then I started thinking, this was probably a mistake. Every song I heard was hitting me harder. Then Staind came on and I hit “POWER” off when it finished. I was a wreck. I don’t know why. I mean, I like the song, I’ve heard it a million times… It never meant anything special to me. I texted the link to N_____, a while later she got back, “I can’t listen”, “Sorry”, “I can’t remember it, I just don’t want to feel sad today.” Okay, it didn’t mean anything to her either. I just wanted to give her an example of why I can’t listen anymore. Why was I so overwhelmed.

I figured it out. It wasn’t the song. It was what I was doing all last week and still thinking about. I was still planning on going to that party with the meetup group. “STICK TO THE PLAN”. I don’t understand. That wasn’t the plan. The plan wasn’t to blow up my own spot! Meet new people to go out and get shitfaced? Put it all on my credit card? The credit card is buy groceries at the end of the month if I need. Or something small I can pay off immediately. Going out drinking is not an emergency expenditure. And it would certainly overrun my budget by a large amount. I don’t skimp on partying!

The party plan was over anyway but I was still hanging onto it. Friday night I was changing my mind then I got an email from the woman I was texting about getting a ride to the bar. Okay? I’ve been downgraded to email? And it was an email sent through the website. I guess? The last I heard from her was Thursday, Her, “Great, I will text you Saturday and let you know.” The email said, “Sorry, I am going to the beach in the morning, post on the site saying you are looking for a ride.” Umm… Wasn’t that what I did Thursday? Isn’t that why she gave me her number and said, text me? I replied, “Thanks for trying Karen!” Whatever, some bullshit.

Saturday I was still hanging on the PLAN that wasn’t the plan. I was still thinking of ways to follow through. Even taking an Uber and possibly ending up wasted and stranded at Hampton Beach. Or worse, waking up a week later. “Where the fuck am I?” “How did I get here?” “Good, still got my wallet and keys, phone.” “How do I get home?”. I made up my mind after some serious debate. What debate? How was there even a question? Of course I’m not going anywhere. I’m not leaving the house this weekend!

My depression had hit just in time. It made the decision for me. I still thought I should be polite for some reason. I don’t know why? Karen wasn’t. The last I heard of the main guy, Ivan, was Tuesday when he posted, Remember, if you can’t make it be sure to let us know so someone else can take your spot. He was the first to mention carpooling to the general space. I never heard from him when I floated the idea. Maybe it was a good idea I changed my mind. I went to the website and posted, “Sorry can’t make it, really would have like to meet you all.” (I think I lied.) Doesn’t matter, a few hours later I got another email from the website, “Karen C. has cancelled tonight’s event.” That was it. No explanation. She cancelled? Still no word from Ivan, the guy who runs the group. Would he be in charge of cancelling? She is just a co-organizer. I guess that was fortuitous. Fuck that shit. I’m supposed to let them know ahead of time but they cancelled on 15 people at the last minute. I’m done.

I was lucky. After all my machinating, providence saved me again. I stayed inside for the rest of the weekend. Anxiety ate me alive. None of my techniques alleviated. Sunday I fired up the google machine and typed in “CBT for cognitive distortions” I’m no stranger to the concept. But fucked up’ed’ly, None of my therapists had ever worked on it with me. My last therapist handed me a printout early in one of our sessions about 5 years ago. It listed the cognitive distortions but said nothing about what to do. I told her, yes, I do all of that. I have a shitload of anxiety. She never mentioned it again. 5 years. Every time I talked about anxiety she said the same bullshit. “Just stay in the moment.” What the fuck? What if the moment absolutely sucks so much you will do anything to get out of it? My favorite was, look around the room and count 3 things that are yellow. Okay, That will help. My anxiety is going to triple cause there is nothing yellow in the room. Whatever, she was nice enough to talk to and I’ve had worse therapists.

(Got sidetracked) I found the “Three column layout.” I realized I have already been doing that in my head. One person said it helps him if he actually writes it out. I’ll try anything now. I got a blank page and divided it into three columns. I wrote my worst thought on the left. The middle was for cognitive distortions. I wrote, “Ha ha, all of them, no, seriously… End of the world, I’m evil, Worst person in the world, I ALWAYS do this! etc…” On the right I wrote out the logical thought. It was pretty lengthy but it made sense even if I didn’t believe it. It helped! A little… I went back and read it each time I started ruminating and it stopped. While I was doing it I thought, this will never help. Now I’m wondering why nobody ever mention this to me. Its not like an obscure technique. It was all the results that showed up on Google. It’s been used for years.

The plan in ,”STICK TO THE PLAN”, Is focus on my daughter, focus on my family, and don’t fucking blow up my spot! If I blow up my spot the plan goes out the window. If any of you reading my posts sees me making other plans, could you do me a favor? Please leave a comment saying, “STICK TO THE PLAN!” Thanks.

Right on Schedule

It’s the rhythm of the words and
the reason of the rhyme
lit up, split up, getting ahead of time
luck, an artificial construct
like freedom and religion and astrology
biology, overgrown libidos in worn out
tuxedos and premature fecundity
will we ever find what’s under me?
will we find me? what drives me
and ties me and binds me to
spiritual symbolism and superstition
my life’s in repetition
thank GOD, indecent and obsolete
my life’s in repetition
thank GOD, indolent and incomplete
my life’s in repetition
thank GOD
I’m in remission

No You-Turns

Last weekend I was trying to do some serious self-sabotage. Friday I was thinking about how I told myself I wasn’t going to waste this summer by isolating. I thought I was doing a good job. Every nice weather day I left the apartment for extended periods of time. Even during my hyper-anxiety stretch. Somehow I made myself do it. I have been seeing my daughter regularly, which is most important. I’ve been communicating through text with the important people in my life mostly every day. I’ve been trying to express positive sentiments even when all my thoughts are negative.

I realized most of the time I’ve been spending outside, I’ve still been isolating. I’ve been going to the beach where there are tons of people but I just cruise by on my bike. I never see anyone for more than ten seconds and then they are out of my life. As if they were ever in it? All the hours I spent riding this summer may as well have been spent watching virtual tours of Hampton Beach on YouTube filmed by someone with a GoPro camera. Okay, maybe while pedaling a stationary bike for the exercise. And a sunlamp? You get the idea. I’ve been spinning my wheels.

This wasn’t a sudden epiphany. I already knew about a week ago. A couple of really nice days I made myself stop in the center of the main beach and sit on a bench long enough to sip down one of my 16 ounce bottles of water. I watched a game of beach volleyball. Those people were really professional for a casual activity. I think because I was looking so happy a few people walking by made some friendly comments and I replied. I’m pretty friendly. But that was the most of my interaction with strangers in the wild for a long time.

Back to Friday… It was about 6pm and I was boiling over! Again I’m home alone on the internet. My fucked up brain is still on the clock. I only went out during the day and had to do my morning routine and leave the house at a certain time so I would be back by a certain time. Whatever those arbitrary times may be. So I could get back home and do what? Exactly? It was still daylight for hours; there is no law I can’t go out after dark. Why did I need to be home? To google my symptoms and side effects? Doom scroll Twitter? The people I follow on WordPress settle down by noon Eastern Standard Time. I have to get off the fucking internet sometime!

Oh yeah, last Friday. I tried using the internet to get off the internet. I cranked up the Google machine and typed in “Things to do near me” All that came up was Yelp and Tripadvisor etc… Now places have to pay to be sponsored to get reviews. The same bullshit restaurants came up in every search. I’ve never been to them because I’ve never wanted to go to them. I forget how I found a few things that were actually close to me. My town sucks anyway but… One of them was the old Dog Track. They turned it into a Casino. It is only a mile from me, I could walk there in 15 minutes. I read some reviews. They had a few slot machines, watered down drinks and really pushed he off track betting. Then, why am I even thinking about this? I don’t gamble. I don’t even spend 1 dollar on the lottery.

I thought a good idea popped into my head. The Hampton Beach Casino Ballroom. It is a forum that holds about 2000 people. They mostly feature once famous, now washed up bands from the 80’s. I didn’t give a shit. I’ll go see Whitesnake, Tesla, Cinderella? I don’t give a fuck. I never liked any of them but the crowd would be my age. Let’s have a look at their website. Nobody! Friday night in peak season and nobody is on the schedule. The next best thing was Kenny Wayne Shepherd on Saturday. A day late and a dollar short! Sounds like a real country music name anyway. I YouTube’d him and he’s actually guitar driven blues/rock. Nothing to write home about but I guess? 50 bucks for a standing room only ticket way in the back. Never mind. I did stumble on something fortunate. Frank Turner is coming there October 10th and I will be making an effort to be there! 30$ a ticket and he is much more talented. I played him over the phone for my remote drinking buddy, Julie a few years ago when I was seriously in the weeds. She said, “He’s the Irish Bob Dylan!” He’s actually English and is described as acoustic punk rock. I think that fits.

Next I got karaoke in my head. I searched karaoke bars. Again, sponsored links to places I would never go. Still I looked a little further into them. (Backstory) In the past 20 years Hampton Beach has slowly changed from a collection of small dive restaurant/bars and dive hotels into a long stretch of huge condominium complexes and extra large bars. A lot of those old bars “conveniently burned to the ground and instead of rebuilding in the same spots that were rather profitable, they sold the land to the corporations and moved off the beach. Still nice places.

I said what the fuck, I gotta go somewhere. I’ll go to one of these big bars with live music or karaoke. I don’t know why I had that in my head. I have never gotten up to sing one song at karaoke. But I’ll watch people make asses out of themselves. Then I found you can’t just walk into one of these bars. You have to make an account at an online reservation service to book a table. What? I have to get out of the house more often,I guess. “Yes, I’d like a table for one, Here’s my credit card number.”

Okay, I called bullshit. I looked up places I knew in my town. There is Master McGrath’s next door to me. I haven’t been in there for five years since I went on my one month manic fueled I’ll buy drinks for everyone with my credit card! That place is fucked up. I didn’t even like it. It’s named after an Irish racing Greyhound. (The dog track) And it is a real Irish place. The owner gets shitfaced and plays Irish ballad on the tin whistle? Nobody goes there because the dumbass hard core locals scare off new customers. One Friday I went in around 6pm and there were two girls from out of town and they thought it was nice old style classic pub. Asking the bartender when the best times were. I left and came back at 9 when he said the best time. The two girls were still sitting there and they were surrounded by 4 drunk freaks. Putting their hands on them, rubbing their shoulders, stroking their hair. The girls were looking over to me save them but what was I going to do? Soon they left and so did I. Do you think they will ever come back again.

The best time I had there was when I took the place over. For some reason they had a crowd but they were quiet and depressed and listening to some dreary Irish music. I looked to the side and they had a state of the art jukebox with an internet connection. I handed the bartender a twenty and asked for a handful of singles. I funneled them into the slot and typed in the songs I would listen to at home. OMG! What a difference. The whole place brightened up. They are all talking, laughing, having a great time. Whenever a new song came on another person would perk up… “Who played this? I love this song!” It was always me. I made a lot of quick friends that night. It was the 2nd to last time I went in there. The last time is a longer story.

Back to Friday. McGraths’s had some entertainment. Karaoke with “DJ Dan”. I laughed. He’s been around the area longer than I have. He thinks he is a celebrity. I think he is another kind of asshole. I could only imagine 5 old guys requesting Irish folk songs and everyone singing along. Next! The only place left was “The Chop Shop” A biker bar I have never entered. What the hell? They are only 2 miles away. They have a website. Live bands every Friday and Saturday! Okay! What’s on tap tonight? A J.Geils’ tribute band? Seriously? I think I remember one song from when I was a kid. “Must have got lost” I don’t know? The picture of the band was hilarious. 5 guys older than me in sequined suits. I guess they weren’t a tribute to the young J.Geil?

That place was out of the question anyway. What am I going to do there? I would be the only guy not dressed head to toe in leather. It’s so funny because the only thing I can think of is Rob Halford of Judas Priest singing “Hell Bent for Leather.” and him in an interview saying how did anyone not figure out I am gay all these years. I’m a walking stereotype, have they not listened to any of the lyrics? I’m laughing now. You know the place is a sausage hang. The only broad there will be a few biker girlfriends. Then the rest would be wanna be bikers who thought buying a Harley would get them laid.

Then I figured it out. The thing all these places had in common was they served alcohol. I didn’t want to hang out with bikers or listen to middle aged drunks sing karaoke. I wanted to get shitfaced! I put a stop to my search. I was lucky I couldn’t find a suitable spot.

Saturday it poured rain as promised. At night I got the bright idea I would check out POF cause I gotta meet a woman. But that would not have been a good idea. I was leaning towards my old habits and I would need some beer and time to talk and I would still be living on the internet. So that went in the trash. I haven’t been on there since last, I think, November? For shits and giggles I did a forgot password with my email and signed in. Jesus H. Still all the same women from years ago. They don’t even bother to change their pictures. They all say they are looking for a serious relationship. It’s a fucking joke. They would probably think the same of me but I’m not looking for a serious relationship and the longest I can stand that place is for a week at a time. My account had been “hidden” but I permanently deleted it. Now what?

Sunday I woke up and remembered http://meetup.com No, it’s not a hook up site. It’s groups and activities for almost anything you could be interested in. I was signed up six years ago but the only thing I was interested in was being drunk. I signed up again and they give you a million different subjects and I clicked half a million just in case. They sign for a bunch of groups I will never join but I’m trying. I kept doing the search thing and one thing kept popping up but the group said it was miles away. I didn’t realize the event was at the beach. And, stupid me, I already knew about it. Every Wednesday, Hampton Beach has a live band outdoors and then a huge fireworks show. I love live music and I love fireworks. What the fuck have I been doing all summer? I checked the weather and it is going to be 85 degrees and no rain. You bet I will be there.

The next group they kept showing me was “Unaccompanied Single Adults”. Hey, that sounds like me. But it said Manchester, which is 30 miles away from me. But I caught it Monday morning. Their event is in Hampton Beach at the Ashworth Hotel. Saturday night. 70’s Dance party, come shake your booty with us 🙂 I don’t dance but it is the only event close to me. I clicked on it. It said 13 attending and 2 available spots. I didn’t understand why it was so limited and figured I would wait until later in the week to decide. I changed my mind and clicked I will attend. I can always back out later, right? I got interested and started stalking who was going. It’s 12 women and 3 guys. I’m one of the guys! And the organizer, Ivan even wrote in the description, “HEY, WHERE ARE THE GUYS AT?” They show everyone’s pic and age and town. Everyone looked normal. More normal than me. They are just a few people who are looking for the same thing I am. Something to do but they don’t know what to do.

They give you a lot of info on the people. The first thing I noticed was the people who are attending joined the site in the past week and it was the first thing they were doing. Then, this dude Ivan, just created this group a week ago and this is the first event! He’s a freaking genius! He’s got 12 single women around the same age, with the same interests ready to drive for miles to dance the night away! He specifically asked for more guys. I’m a guy. I’m there!

It turns out I was lucky I clicked, “attending” Monday morning because there are no more spots left. Now they send me emails when someone comments on the site. One woman said she had to cancel and an hour later this Indian dude filled in. Still at max capacity and still 3 to 1 woman to man ratio! That’s why I don’t gamble. I have better luck in real life!

I’m waffling because it is at a bar and I don’t dance. I can’t just walk in and sit down and drink. Which is a definite possibility. I’ve got all week to get prepared. But at this point I’m thinking summer is over and I have to do something in real life. Next week is Labor Day. The beach will be shutting down soon. I can’t waste the whole summer.

Not So Fast!

Robot Brain

Every morning when I wake up I have to reprogram my brain to manage what I will be listening to for the rest of the day. I do it by listening to music. It replaces the voice I hear. I used to turn my iPod on as soon as I woke up. It works but the problem is the songs are too familiar. I’ve been listening to the same shit for years. I may end up with the same snippet of a lyric running over and over in my ears. It’s too intrusive. I like slow tempo chillout streams on YouTube. It doesn’t really matter which one. All the songs are similar. I won’t really hear a particular one all day. My brain will remember the beat and usually make up it’s own soft melody. It is fairly unobtrusive.

Recently I remembered something I found a few years ago. I searched 60 bpm (beats per minute) music, which is my resting heart rate. (That’s not too esoteric, is it?) I was surprised a million choices came up. The only one I could listen to was “Elemental healing sounds.” There is also some of the 528hz and Alpha waves. I’m not really into that crap but this is just piano set to 60 bpm. An hour is about all I need to do the trick. Listening while I read some blogs and write my own is quite relaxing. Sometimes it can last 24 hours. Yesterday I fell asleep for an hour in the afternoon (which never happens) and when I woke up, the noise was loud and rapid fire. It wouldn’t stop. Anxiety went sky high. I’m not sure what I did to calm down but it did involve eating a bowl of chili. I guess?

The active noise cancelling on the earbuds I bought only works when no music is playing. Couldn’t I just wear earplugs? It makes sense. If I’m listening to music loud enough to to block outside noise, how would I know the difference? It’s no big deal. I only spent 40 buck at Walmart for them. Before I bought them I read a few independent reviews and they all said don’t waste your money on more expensive brands. The sound quality is good but they keep popping out of my ears. Even though I tried all three sizes of silicone inserts. I still like them. I’m not using them for sports. I got them so I can walk around the house and not be attached to a device.

My daughter is picking me up to bring me to lunch in a few hours. Since she started driving she thinks that is the best. I like it. I don’t get to see her as long I normally would. I thought I would see less of her when she got her license. She is always driving somewhere. I remember all I wanted to do was drive. I was never home. I’m still excited and happy for her. She is out there getting it done. It does make me a little sad but I am glad I spent as much time with her as I could when she was growing up. I’m looking forward to lunch! Late last night she texted me to confirm. 🙂 Ha! I didn’t ask her where we are going. I want to be surprised. It doesn’t matter. I just want to see her. I’m kind of hoping for 5 Guy’s again. I could go for a nice greasy double cheeseburger. I haven’t eaten meat for a for a few weeks.

Nice! Now I have my head on straight. I lied. It takes me a lot longer than one hour to get ready for a new day. I hope everyone else has a good one. Try to do something good for yourself.