interaktor23

Blood is pouring out of everyone of my openings.  I have been vomiting, mainly, blood and, assumedly, stomach lining for about three hours now.  I have pissed a thick stream of blood twice now and when overwhelmed with a racking cough, blood. 

I won't tell people about this, I'll keep it to myself.  I have decided the lifestyle I lead and have to deal with the consequences of my actions like a man.  Even if I feel like my internal organs are liquefing and trying to escape from any opening they can.

I experienced a rare moment of weakness last night.  An intense desire to not spend the night alone, and an even more intense desire to have sex with someone, anyone.  My sexual appetites have become so malformed though, I feel the need to break the person down, I need an unhealthy amount of degradation before or during the sex lest I am not really entertained by it.  Unless I actually care for the girl, but my ability to care for a member of the opposite sex wanes as the days slip through my fingers.

Even the act of sex doesn't excite me like it used to, which was always subpar in comparison to my male friends.  I knew yesterday that I wanted the sensation of being desired more then the actual act of sex, and an orgasm would have been nice.  Everything in between the beginning and the very end of sex is boring and banal.  Especially during the summer; the thought of a hot sweaty body laying near by me is more then slightly repulsive.

I have to clean the house again, the constant struggle of cleanliness in a household of two single men always feels like a losing battle.  Every morning I wake up to find little piles of debris that him and I have scattered throughout our common areas. 

I am forcing myself to ingest some soup in the hopes that I can put a layer of something over the blood and coffee that currently reside in my stomach. 

Another bout of drug induced insomnia.  Too much speed to go to sleep and now the hour approaches fast that will have me whisked away towards an extension ladder and a bucket of paint.  We are to head out any moment now and I refuse to move until at least nine when I go take a shower that will take approximately one half hour, maybe more, probably less.

I ate some more speed a few moments ago, hoping that I can just ride the vibe and work the day and then crawl into my bed and die.  The idea of having to do any kind of taxing thought process makes me want to vomit a little.  Doing the fine minutia of the edges on this house makes my head reel.

But the hour is upon me and I still have yet to shower...

This is my first legitimate day off in weeks, how do I spend the first half?  Video games.  After I got my prerequisite 2 pots of coffee in me and a good shower (despite still having paint all over me) I scuttle outward into this beautiful day that Central New York is experiencing.  I go sit in on a Kung Fu class where a friend teaches.  I say "sit-in" in the looses form; my "sitting-in" on a class normally constitutes me disrupting class with my pacifist philosophy and being a tad combative in the flaws of learning a martial art without having a basis in philosophy.  But I want to get to that later on this entry.

I meditate for a few minutes at the class, makes me feel a thousand percent better (not hyperbole, literally 1000%, I have a meter.).  I try to find Twin to play Go with but he isn't answering his calls, so I return to the domicile... which is where you find me currently...well not currently cause, you know, you are reading this in the future, so we are actually in two different times and I will probably be in a different place by the time you are reading these words...whatever.  You get the point.

My first topic:

For those of you that actually know me, you have probably noticed a void in the journal, I have very tactfully remained silent in this journal about a problem I have been having for a while now; I remained quiet at first because too many characters that are involved in the problem read this and then it developed into a feeling of immaturity to drivel on the internet about something so trite.  What has changed?  Well because the problem can't keep her fucking mouth shut everyone I know knows something about the situation and because I feel good enough today to not care about being childish.


Spam boy is coming over to get me to go hang out with him so I have to wrap the post up in a bit of haste.

So, ever so quickly, back to today.  I am hanging out with this Kung Fu class; I make a joke about sparring with one of the guys and the teacher (Ben, "Sea Foam" hence forth.), Sea Foam starts laughing and then sobers up and says "could you even do that?"  He is speaking in regards of me being a pretty devote pacifist and the question actually touches my heart a little that he is worried about my moral code.  I think he also started to feel like an ass for egging his student into sparring with me. 

I start laughing and say "yea, of course I can spar, I loved to spar.  There is no problem in sparring with a guy, shit, if I was that much of a pacifist I couldn't even play video games, cause when I am playing an FPS (first person shooter) I know I am killing mother fuckers and that is ok."  He replies something about it being in the mind and I agree.  It is such an idiotic pleasure of mine to go to his class and preach my message of peace unbound. 

He teaches "real world" techniques; his whole fighting philosophy is a "you or me" philosophy and he imparts that upon each student, so I love rolling in, over weight, untrained, a smoker, either drunk or hung over, and start talking about: A) differing fighting styles that I am well read on (I have zero practical application for what I know, but I am book smart when it comes to Tai Chi, ninjitsu, jujistsu, Kendo, Iaito, tae kwon do, Two Sword (Musashi), Karate, Taoism, Confucianism, and a few others (I know a few other names but refuse to even try to take a stab at how to spell them, I know I misspelled a bunch of the names but don't feel the desire to look up the actual spelling) which names escape me.  B) Enlightenment, where I basically try to say it is more important to "become" then to know how to defend one's self.  Sea Foam is a militant black Muslim as well, so I do well to mention Gandhi and Martin Luther (subsequently, those two men fall just out of reach of the top four or five "All-Time Greatest Men" list, which are Jesus (number one with a bullet, He is basically his own list.), Buddha, and Socrates, the other two, with a gun to my head, would probably be Miyamoto Musashi ("The Book of Five Rings" amazing, read it!  It'll teach you how to fight and how to attain some kind of higher being.), and either Lao Tzu ("Tao Te Ching") or Epictetus ("The Handbook").) he always counters with Malcom X, so our argument always kind of devolves into a difference in opinion.  Where he sees pushing I see pulling, where I see pushing he sees pulling.  We get along famously though despite our differences in philosophy (he actually said the nicest thing to me the other day, it melted my heart to the point I didn't know how to respond.  Sea Foam: "I am really gonna miss you when you goto Florida, I feel like we, you know, like, we...get each other, despite all the differences." Me:"Hell yea, cause I am the shit!", I felt like such an asshole for handling the compliment so badly that later on that night I made it a point to apologize and thanks him vigorously.).

Whenever I am around him I can actually feel myself being the "mirror of equanimity" that I always say I am.  I can actually feel myself giving him a different opinion then he might have; I show him that not all white people are racist, not all Christians hate on Muslims, and that no matter what happens to me I still feel that violence begets violence.  I feel that him and I maintain a balance, we quite literally embody the yin and the yang. 

I have been having this feeling for weeks now.  This feeling that I am giving you back what you give to the world.  No moral judgment, no emotion, it is cold and emotionless; if you are being an asshole I will out asshole you, if you are being violent I am passive, if you are passive I am violent.  I said such to Vapid (which comes later in the story that I swear will get to) and it is when it really solidified in my mind. 

I also made a promise to Sea Foam that I would be back to at least observe a class.  I told him that I would be meditating during it which he says he likes.  So I plan on going to his class and meditating as opposed to going to church and feeling the bad vibe of the "Christians". 

We also got talking about meditation proper; I prattled off what I am able to with meditation (not to brag merely to edify (and a little bit bragging), I can mildly astroplain, mild telepathy, mild empathy, I can slip into a trance like nothing, I can see flashing colors, I can sense chi, can teach others to sense chi, can "lose" my body, I can block out the entire world, and at least two other things I can't remember the names to.  I say this to his class, they all kind of stare at me as I continue to say that everything I know is simply parlor tricks and that all I really want from meditation is to "shut the fuck up for ten minutes, fuck, for one minute".  Which is the truth. 

In a very rapid time I learned a bunch of very nifty tricks to do to myself, but that is all they are.  Tricks.  I want true enlightenment, not how to walk on water; I know (some how) that if I wanted to learn how to conquer the self and learn to beat death or walk on water or see the future, or any other bullshit parlor trick, I could teach myself, given the time and ability, but these are all transitory.  They are nothing in the light of pure being; so I don't cultivate these gifts anymore. 

I do plan on being back there next Saturday, I plan on being in my postures whilst they try to learn their bodies. 

Too hot.  Too much work.  Too much drinking.

Thinking about my ex's a lot more then normal.

Macs stole drugs for me from our job site.

Need to go play Go with the Twin.

Real update to follow...it'll be a fucked up entry but...it's what I do best, piss people off.

HAhaaaaa!

What do we have left once our relationships break down?  Friends, girlfriends, lovers, parents, siblings, co-workers, what-have-you, once the relationship dwindles, or fizzes out, or implodes (and they always do), what do we have left?  A handful of meaningless memories that over the course of time will be warped into some kind of idealized perfection or horror, is that all that we gain by engaging with other human?  You can keep it.

I am sitting on the couch for the last 5 hours trying to motivate myself to go finish this house I am working on, or clean my, oh-so-needy, apartment, or to go clean the paint-sprayer, or some kind of motivation.  I make a pot of coffee, chug it.  Fill up a water bottle, chug it.  Nothing.

I am not hung-over today, which is a pleasant change from the norm.  Yet I still feel like I was on the losing end of a fight with a tequila bottle.  Continuity seems to be the problem I am constantly confronted by.  Trying to piece together what I did from the previous night, or trying to remember if I ever remember remembering the information I just "learned", or getting assailed by vu ja de.  I feel like I am running in three parallel time lines at the same time.  Throw in, on top of that, that I am still not really able to tell the difference between real life and dreams that are realistic; I have literally been angry at my roommate for things he has done to me in dreams, so for the sake of peace I always have to ask if the slight was real or imagined.  And he is a nice enough guy that he always tells me the truth.

But these aren't new symptoms, these are just the more transitory of my problems.  If I asked a doctor about they would probably peg it that I am not resting well and that I am either border-line dehydrated or severely dehydrated constantly, I should probably chew valerian root and get some exercise...quacks.

I just feel like my chi is being sucked out of me.  I am probably on the downward side of the manic-depression valley; it would account for the all the drinking and the abrupt lack of desire to drink.  I think I hit the lowest point so it is back uphill again, in a good way.  "Grey skies are gonna clear up" kind of way.

I just don't do anything these days.  Leaving the house is a bother, people annoy me more then normal, large groups scare me, the sun constantly threatens to burn out my overly sensitive eyes, I feel like I am too broke to do anything, my "friendships" out here seem to be an encumbrance, I always say the wrong thing to people, blah blah blah.  Just more nails in my hermit coffin that I have been building for the last few years.

What else though?

I have been wrapped up lately in the idea of relationship and the end of them; I got thinking about this mainly because it has been one year since I left Newburgh.  I started day-dreaming about who doesn't even know I left yet, how some people responded to the news, how long before people noticed, friends I haven't spoken to, and all that jazz.  But in particular I was thinking of one of my closest friends, i.e. Matt H., and how I just utterly ghosted on him.  I told him nothing of my plans, shit I told him I would hang out with him the day after I was supposed to leave and felt no remorse for my brazen lie.

It got me wondering what the actual merit to the friendship was.  I mean all he is to me now is a memory, a construct that I have put together through perceptions that are definitely skewed.  It is not even with in my power to give an accurate description save for he was tall but not crazy tall, brown hair, and he was a good-looking guy.  I don't even know his eye color.  And now that all he is to me; random things I noticed, random things we did, moments, nothing substantial, nothing that I could convey at least.  I just have this ...sensation about him, it is similar to the feeling of walking into an air-conditioned shop when is is extremely hot out-side, just minus all the temperature differences.  It's almost a sensation like relief, but that makes no sense.

That's it though.  That is all Matt has been reduced to.  He is a conscious sentient being that has an entire back-story as well as more life to live, but with in the confines of my universe, he is just an idea.  I am not being judgmental, I am not saying that he is forgettable, or we never actually did anything, quite the opposite.  I love Matt and I use to have a blast hanging out with him, everything we did though is now just a story I tell people, it has no weight.  I could have just as easily had made Matt up like a child with an imaginary friend. 

Now our friendship died very naturally and there weren't harsh words spoken, or some kind of blow-out; we just drifted apart.  So I look back on him favorably, what about all the relationships I had that ended badly?  Do I have an accurate idea of the course of events, or have I been selectively editing out memories to highlight certain character flaws?  Have I been telling myself the same stories over and over again not to remember the past but to alter it?

This is a pretty bullshit thought, I am aware, books and movies cover this all the time (recommend "Memento" and "The I Inside"), does it invalidate the fear that I could have recreated my past relationships?  Should I actually feel guilty about something I did or have I remembered it all wrong? 

I think way too many people use their past to define their present and it so sad, it just feels like they are giving up before they even start.  I have heard too many people say things like "my dad was a drinker so I am too", "this girl broke my heart so I won't talk to that girl", "my mother didn't hug me enough so now I am cold to other people", etc.

I don't get how people can be self-aware of the events that led up to the person's flaw and be completely aware of the flaw and yet still feel helpless in the face of them.  Admitting there is a problem is the first step to recovery I thought, and yet people just cower behind their past. 

So: I have decided for the rest of July I will try to actively change my memories, it'll be a neat little thought experiment.