I had snidely posted something to the effect of if Scott Adams can ask the “simulation creators” to heal his achy hurty knees (FUCK YOU SHELLY. That’s where I got Shelly’s .. something Shack from!) and if they’re taking requests, everything hurts and my dick doesn’t work.
I almost nearly never ever get headaches.
I was on the phone telling Jeremy that I got a new watch and I keep ripping it off. I dont know why. It’s identical to the old one. It’s always in my way now.
My chest has hurt , I can’t keep my balance and I can’t drive anywhere like that.
I just want to go to the river or the beach, but my body says “nope, it’s bedtime again.”
I’m sober going on 14.5 months and none of it has even felt good. I have days where I feel like hot garbage, I may as well have been out all night long.
The neighbor dragged his loudspeakers outside and they’re the size of my car. He loves horrible high pitched shit like tubas and trumpets it sounds like two drunk walruses having loud sex on top of random marbles and nails sliding all over a blackboard.
It’s so awful it makes Mrs. Miller blubbering Yellow Submarine sound more talented than Lisa Gerard.
I like a place where there’s some signs of life.
But where is my Anacin…
Out of nowhere my right leg started coming unknotted last and it’s almost as if it was being torqued in the wrong direction or something.
Loud clicks and crunches and angry snaps.
I’m beating on the thing with a theragun and all this tension broke loose in my head and my everything.
I have my balance back, but I feel like I have all this space between my atoms. It’s like when Atripla was making me trip balls. Like then, my skin and muscles feel good. Like silly putty .
I’m looking at these pictures from Ramin Nazir, and I go hmm, I got banned almost immediately after setting one of those as my profile photo. I had no idea who he was at the time and hadn’t seen anything else from him.
I think back and wonder “why the hell was darkness to light a banned topic on Twitter? What the fuck is wrong with these people. Why do they hate darkness to light so much?” Doc. Why does he hate electricity so much? I only want to ask the important questions about life now.
I look up some more and I feel like I just ate a whole bag of magic mushrooms or I’m sitting in the produce section at Jewel Osco all over again.
Oh my gosh it’s so pretty.
“it’s like a koala just crapped a rainbow inside my brain!” where is that from..
I don’t want to read angry things on forums any more all of a sudden. We can scream “it’s none of your business what happens my bedroom,” but apparently it’s everyone’s business who you have in your kitchen now. Hell it’s national news.
It’s so ridiculous.
I never want to go back.
I don’t want to play with you anymore.
I want to put on some music.
The pain melts away.
After some time I realize I am eating with my left hand and using my left hand predominantly.
I get tired again and this time I lay down and rest my face on top of my right arm.
I had switched sides and started laying my head and face directly on it around the time I started getting ill. I’m not even noticing it. Just something’s different and now I hate my watch.
I have a flashback to a dream where I woke up and said “I’m in the other hemisphere of my mind!” upon waking. I bet I was.
I think we also have semi-bifurcated brains, and “they” think that’s a bunch of wasted space they can mine cryptocurrencies on , or even worse.
What if your brain bifurcates as an adaptive mechanism during magnetic disturbances?
I go to sleep and I have the best dream ever. I’m flying in full color. It’s 1978 or 1979 and I’m talking to a nurse in a brilliant white polyester uniform with immaculate navy blue stitching.
Her name is.. Irma or Elma or Ida or.. it keeps changing. I’ve been dyslexic in all of my dreams. I make typos all the time now. I never even made typos on ketamine before.
She has a clipboard, it’s an old xerox print with ragged blacker than black ink, it says across the top in big black capital letters “MKULTRA PATIENT” something something something.
I’m trying to write her name down.
I tell her “I don’t tell a lot of people this but I wasn’t alive yet in 1978. There’s something I can use to look for you when I get back home I want to see if you’re still alive and how you’re doing but.. I can’t.. read your .. name tag..”
I’m in some store talking to some goofy young men late teens early twenties at the most. And they look gayer than gay , but if they are, they’re not for each other. They’re just friends.
I’m running and skipping with somebody , and we’re running across broken green pieces of plastic PVC-like pipe. So many segments scattered on the ground…. I feel almost euphoric. But the pieces… the pieces … why the pieces …
I “heard some funky ass old school electronic music that would stay with me until I started running errands.
I dream that I have this cartoonishly massive erection, “oh well, hello there, I haven’t seen you since Trump was in office. Are we on speaking terms again?” I push it and it oozes all over the floor and wall.
I woke up giggling and I was in fact erect. I give it a couple yanks but I’m bored with it in about 3 seconds.
I say to my penis, “I don’t want to play with you anymore, either!”
Very funny , simulation creators.
I’m not even kidding , above the clouds, pain free, oriented , able to drive and get some damn groceries and rent money out.
I just want to go back to that place like a cocoon and chase it like it’s a first or new drug. I don’t like the one I’m in anymore.
Out of nowhere, Moby – Porcelain.
In my dreams I’m dying all the time. Then I wake it’s kaleidoscopic mind…
I’d heard it eighteen million times on the radio, but only today I go “oh THATS what that means.”
I wonder what the hell happened to either of us.