Tuesday, May 21, 2013

Tuesday

(Sir Alex Ferguson calls it quits.)

Yesterday, the Dragon Lady had an appointment.  So I prepared my own food.  I made spicy pork and French fries.  I washed the meal down with several glasses of Coke.  I'm becoming quite an accomplished cook.

Jim played Starcraft.  Then he completed some Korean homework with his mother.  They've been getting along much better.  I enjoy a peaceful apartment.  Strife sucks.

I watched a program called Oz.  It's a brutal prison drama.  The series is certainly riveting.  I wouldn't survive a day in the penal system.  I'm much too handsome and sweet-natured.  They'd pass me around for cigarettes and drug money.

I paid homage to the Christ God.  I said the Lord's Prayer on bended knees.  I've got a lot of problems.  My demons have demons.  But Jesus helps calm my feverish brain.  He's a celestial chill pill.

I went to bed.  I had a strange dream.  A woman carried my head in a glass jar.  She wandered around a sandy desert while my headless body followed her.  I really need to start drinking again.

I woke up at 6 a.m.  I read the paper.  Sir Alex Ferguson is no longer the manager for Manchester United.  His final game was a classic.  It ended in a 5-all draw.

I turned on Fox News.  A deadly tornado hit Oklahoma.  Many children were killed.  Life is short and brutal.  Spread your love because tomorrow a piano might fall on your head.

Anyway, I'll talk to you later.  God bless.

8 comments:

  1. More drunk dreams Smith? Your soul is in torment. Don't start drinking again, that won't help. best Jay

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    Replies
    1. I don't miss drinking.

      I miss smoking.

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    2. Have you read much about the link between smoking and neurotransmitters? I won't go into a lengthy explanation, because I blather on too long, eh? But smoking, especially the nicotine component, has a strong effect on brain chemistry. That's why the schizophrenics on my ward are so DRIVEN to smoke. It's a compulsion with them, because it temporarily settles down the chaotic jumble of skewiff thoughts in their minds.

      I'm not saying you're a schizo, Mr. Smith. My ex-wife, who was a cigarette and pot smoker, was a depressive, and she also got brain relief from the smoking (not just a high.) On of the problems with substances that stimulate your brain's chemistry is that your neurotransmitters get accustomed to the stimulation, and they don't revert to the same functioning when you go substance-free. It's why meth-heads never go back to being the same people they were before they got hooked. They're chemically crippled. Their dopamine (real substance, no pun intended) is never the same again. Once a person is hooked on meth, you might as well give them a gun so they can shoot themselves. They're fucked as a human being. Even faith in Christ can't help them, because faith is a thing of the conscious brain, and neurotransmitters are working in the background 24 hours a day. What they're working on is screaming "Feed me more of that exciting shit!"

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    3. I disagree. You're reducing people to their bare-bones bio-chemistry. Lots of people quit dope. My favorite bartender in America was a recovering meth addict. People have souls. And anything is possible with God.

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    4. I'm glad you know a success story. I have a jaded view of humanity, especially drug addicts, because I see the worst behavioural cases. They don't get admitted to a hospital psych ward unless they're way out of control. After we get them stabilized enough so they can folow directions, sleep at night, stop yelling and cursing, they get sent home or to other programs for substance abuse treatment. I see people at their lowest points. When they're better, they're outta here. It affects my thinking. It's why I like animals more than I like humans.

      And yeah, I do look at other humans as walking bags of biochemistry, incipient diseases and mental quirks. Myself too. I am coldly analytical. Mostly I don't give a rat's ass as long as people don't get in my face. I'm glad to help them if they want help, but if they don't, I shed no tears if they die. It's not that I hate people; I just regard us all as flawed.

      Much as you do, in terms of us all being imperfect in the eyes of the Lord. Only, my god is science, and science says we all die and our constituent molecules eventually return to the great web of life, where we become one with everything. Kind of a Buddhist concept, only I don't believe in souls. It gives me comfort to think that I am a member of a species of freakishly intelligent monkeys, but after my monkeyheart stops beating, I am just as snuffed out of existence as Bonzo the Chimp who was in that movie with Ronald Ray-gun. I don't WANT a soul that goes on forever. MonkeyBukko has been quite satisfied with this life. I can't see another one being even better. I'm thankful for what I have here.

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    5. It doesn't really matter what we want. We aren't that important. The truth is the truth. There's no stopping it.

      Peace.

      Delete
  2. Hey Smith. A woman with your head in a jar and your body just along for the ride. SOunds like marriage.

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    Replies
    1. It sounds a lot like my marriage. My head isn't the only thing she has in the jar.

      Peace.

      Delete

Thanks for stopping by. Smith.