One of the posts that just somehow “vanished” from Blogger, was a few years ago and it involved me living out in some corn field in the middle of nowhere. 

“They” had some kind of “radar” dish, but not exactly, and they were scanning through the corn searching for someone or something and were all terrified.

After awhile it became apparent that “they” were looking for someone or something else .. not us …

Dreams stacked on dreams stacked on dreams, I found another blogger who writes about SOME of the same things I do , and something jogged in my memory about something with spatial / hemispheric orientation and being tested for that in one of those “I don’t fucking know what I did or why I’m here” times as a kid.

I aced all of that stuff and tested 12th grade everything since elementary school yet was a straight F student. 

Whenever I was asked what my home room was, I’d answer “132.”

“Isn’t that.. the .. in school suspension room?”


At some point I had to stop reading. Maybe that’s why HIV-eMind and Twatter summarily toss everyone out to the curb for saying anything other than what the “hive” is “permitted.” One person is an anecdote, two people are an anamoly, there or four or five or 32,000,000 of us is a conspiracy, alright?

PTSD engaged, a roller coaster of nightmares all night, but all things in reverse.

I come home to an emptied/cleared out hotel room, all my stuff gone, I can’t reach anyone at the front desk , or security or housekeeping to ask “what the fuck-” and where am I, and what is my check out date and .. oh no, not this again.

I find a little white note taped to the cabinets with a note saying your stuffs fine, call this number …

If you really want some head candy, watch the video for the deep dish remix of Stevie Nicks – Dreams. That isn’t a dream, that is a mother fucking nightmare.

Flashbacks of Chicago back in the day… you know all this silliness about “monkeypox” and “18 person orgies” making national news? sigh, 18 people isn’t an orgy, that’s barely a cookout. But I remember being a polite young man who wasn’t really comfortable with wherever I ended up one night and I did not particularly care to take my pants off and join the monkeypox pile. 

I just realized that this apartment was in the same building where Wayne lived and passed away. His was the .. left hand orientation and this other place I met Anthony was the reverse right hand orientation and that really jogged something.

This other guy, Anthony was much the same and we looked at each other uncomfortably in silence and he said “fuck these guys, come home with me.”

*Klaus voice* I vill not live in the pod, I vill not smoke the bad batch of bathtub crank, I vill not take off my pants. I vill not chase the bugs. You and I vill be so happy together, I vill enjoy your meat and make Baby Bill Gates clyyy, mwa ha ha.

Ah to be 21 again. I wish I’d stayed.

But I was developing a littttttttttttttle bit of a – okay, a reallllllly big “problem.”

Dr Werntz was fond of grumbling, “don’t tell me about your clean time. I already know you’re sober because you show up for appointments. when I lose my patients to that shit, they stop coming, they stop calling. They have better things to do! Now I don’t know what the hell those things ARE. I don’t think they do, either!”

Based old crank.

So last night I dreamt about us again and started giggling at the absurdity of being banned from mainstream social media, and not being really warmly received on Gab when I whine “I don’t want to make white babies I like gay interracial sex!”

You spend awhile in the most absolutely degenerate fucking dregs of 4chan or you tough it out on Gab anyway, and maybe you’re back on mainstream social media again but now you’ve picked up some new eloquence like “happy merchant” and “consoooom”, stuff that pisses them off even more than what you were exiled for. 

It’s like this never ending cycle where you just come back , foaming at the mouth and hating these fucking companies and everyone behind this shit ten thousand times more militant and defeated than the year before.. with a MORE “OFFENSIVE” vocabulary , god help us all, is that even … at what point do they split so many hairs , and at what point do we invent creative and heretofore unprecedented forms of cursing or making Jannies cry , that the whole fucking simulation melts down… ? /dry sarcasm

I’m not deflecting responsibility here but, *waves hand at society* YOU did that.

I’m not even allowed into the fucking sandbox to help fuck your shit up.

Although I suppose that I would like to, if I were allowed to do so.

I’ll spare hours of torment and details but I capped the dream off with having one of my tattoos lasered off / removed. 

The guy would only do one at a time , one appointment at a time, and I was really bummed. “I want all of them off of me, now.”

Then I realized that my “tattoo” was on the wrong arm as I looked down at it.

It’s on my right side. In my dream , it was on my left side and he removed that.

I went , “oh shit, I’m in the other hemisphere of my mind!!!!!!” 

Immediately woke up. 


Nope nope nope, joder eso, I ain’t going back to sleep tonight.

So sharks have bifurcated brains , right? they don’t sleep. they just operate on one half for awhile and then zap out over to the other half while they let other side ”sleep” or go dormant or whatever. much like doctor foley’s old roommate, that dude could go for like 25-30 days … you just stay awake forever that way…