poorly enchanted skeleton

whats with men eating so many eggs like cool hand luke as jesus and Gaston just singing his song about all the eggs he ate and eats? are they foxes are they snakes? are the eggs the swimmers embedding in the bodies of the fertile men, enriching them with the Things They Need To Grow?

I'm starting to rough up the surface of my new shiny website so paint will stick and we can get things going.

wednesday august 14 814am 2024

I don't know what to blog about. I am so incredibly lonely I am really proud of myself for not losing my mind, whatever that means. Maybe I have lost it. Maybe it's only apparant that I've lost it when I try to interact with others and instead of a narrow and coherent set of behaviors I am like a roaring chaos at the table trying to catch some of myself and funnel it through in the right forms so that the person can understand. When you have noone to talk to and nothing to interact with except The Nothingness you are apt to be a little weird by human standard. I'm just out of practice, guys. Please don't run away, guys.

But I don't want to just make a blog about how insecure i am and how bad at things. I started to think. I thought about bees. Before, when I started this, I talked about eggs and thought about eggs. Eggs and bees are good safe thoughts. Edith Massey, beautiful ballgowns, flowers, honey, omelettes, lots of good stuff with eggs and bees. Jesus on the cross, surrounded by eggs and bees. I love the springtime in the morning.

I guess I just always am thinking about so many things it's hard to know which one to talk about. This is why conversations are better, or something to focus on. This is why I blog in my movie reviews which are less about the movie than about me, but everything we do is about us, it's never not about us, because we are stuck as us, and all that mono whatever ism.

In over an hour from now I will have my second session with OCCUPATIONAL THERAPY. we are talking about SENSORY PROCESSING. My homework was to think of sounds that sound good to me. I don't understand the real parameters of this assignment and didn't have time to ask a lot of clarifying questions so I just tried to do my best and list a few things that are definitely true and not an exhaustive list and not an analysis of why I love these sounds or anything. I tried to think like if I could only have a few sounds for the rest of my life, I guess. Unfortunately the top sound was my dog man. People do not understand what I mean when I talk about how I feel around him which really surprises me because I thought it was called Being Extremely In Love Like Soulmates Or At Least Perfect Chemistry Like Pheromones Or Something and I thought everyone had experienced this before in their lives. Could be I'm just a bad explainer. But I was talking about sound. Now a sound just happened here: A large airplane is planing the air. It's very loud. There is a lot of rupture noise and roaring but you cannot see the plane because you are indoors or the sky is hanging a sheet up to hide it from view. It's still going. It goes for a long time, 20 seconds or more. And then another one starts. It is the airport. People are going places. They are paying money to have their bodies shipped around the globe. I hate the sound of airplanes. I hate what airplanes are and how much pollution they make and what a waste they are. Noone in airplanes is enjoying it. They are always miserable as hell. They don't want to talk to each other or look out the windows. They don't give a fuck about living in the future. I can't believe more people aren't killing themselves every day because they are so miserable. I think they must not know how miserable they are. Sociopathic world. Very unfortunate place for me to live. Not sounds i like.

i hear also car and truck doors outside. here comes another plane let's time it. . . one minute. Here comes another one. I had better put my earplugs back in. There are too many bad sounds. the speakers are hissing and the cord itself hisses and the computer hisses different tones depending on what it's thinking about. the window creaked in response to the plane sound. every sound i see in my vision, sort of. i was trying to explain this the other day but i don't know enough words in human language to explain, and also i think people are not interested, or they'll say "yeah yeah we all see and hear that way" to which i must ask; but how do you cope!? all of my senses are fused together into one sense. often i cannot tell if i am hearing or smelling or feeling something. if the temperature is too hto or too cold. my senses are primative. there are two axes: GOOD and BAD feeling and INTENSE and MILD feeling. something can be good and intense or good and mild. something can be bad and intense or mild. things can be near zero, which is very confusing and usually i just call it "boring" because it's not enough information in any direction to know what to do with. i study as much as i can how humans have researched and put their experience of life into frameworks. how do people think of how they think? what is feeling like for people? what do we know about the senses? nerves, bulbs, emotions. this is the kind of shit that a serial killer who wears women's clothes talks about in a hollywood movie or something. how generous of mother culture to script outsiders as dangerous. outsiders are not dangerous. they are simply outside. if the circle were expanded they could be inside. i digress, wow! i guess that's the point of this blog. to blog it out. and fart with my coffee in the morning.

the one sound i really like is environments that make sense. like, anyplace is an environment, just drop a box over it and say here's an environment. the box contains every sound you can hear from one locus. and. sorry, a plane is coming again. i hate the planes. you'd think my daddy was killed by a plane or something. i saw a hentai once where a guy had sex with a stewardess and when she came a jet flew overhead it was fucking stupid. cartoons are hilarious. i digress! EARPLUGS?? i hear the fat man wrestling with an extension ladder now. it's a fiberglas one. it sounds like shit. just get aluminum! GOD!!!!

SOUNDS I LIKE

the environment that makes sense. something that grew itself over time and self equalized. i do not want to engineer anything. everything was born perfect. all we had to do was not fuck it up. fit in. don't make machines.

i like to hear the sounds of my dog his chest and his heart and his breath and his metal collarbone and it's hard to say what is sound and what isn't especially when i am so free because i can let go of trying to categorize sensual input and just let it all be INTENSE and GOOD without sorting it into This is SOund and This is Sight and This is Smell because smell also feels and smell also sounds and smell also is seen. This is why I've been reading Lucretius who basically just fucked around and found out and tried to really understand sensual input and also how basic things work beause he wasn't satisfied with "gods made it that way". He fucking rules and I love him for it.

yeah that's it i only love the sound of real living things and of physics of the natural world like environments and stuff like that. i miss all that very much. the city is hell in every way and i am barely keeping it together, as they say. "keeping it together".

sat sept 7 1143AM 2024

it's so loud here. it's just so fucking loud. here in vancouver it is so loud. airplanes and fans. and all sorts of noise. turbulence. madness. chaos. for nothing. trying to compensate for poor design. why would i even want to fix this house. how could i even want to live here, in this shithole country. it really feels like the world is ending. the sky is grey and red with smoke from the fires. i am parched. i drink and drink but i am a husk. where is the water going. it's not even becoming tears. IF you're reading this go listen to KEANU NELSON (Mississippi Records). This place is over. My life is over, I think. The things I tried to fix only became worse. I'm in so much pain I can't really use my body. I haven't been able to get started on anything. I don't feel sorry for myself, I know it's bad to feel sorry for yourself, but I have been begging anyone to help me find the way forward. It's all a waste of time. These people just waste my time! Vocational Rehabilitation has ben "helping" me all year and we have got nothing done. I guess the biggest question I have at this poitn about killing myself is where to do it and how, which jerk do I want to find my body, where do I want my blood to stick. How could a person have any hope when their body is shutting down and if they died no one would notice for a week or more and only because bills are due. it's boring to read about this. it's boring to write about it. but let me tell you something i think about a lot!: When I try to express my suffering and ask other people "do you relate? how do you cope? do you know the way out?" they don't understand what I am telling to them. I keep making the mistake of posting on facebook in a late dx autism group and I talk about my experience of meltdown, burnout, etc. And I get replies describing problems that are not what I described, and what to do for those problems instead. It leads me to believe, yet again, that autism is not the thing. It is not What This Is. I cannot find anyone who shares my experience of how horrible everything is. Or how good, but I don't like to think about that, because it makes me cry to know I am alone in joy. To think I am alone in the ways i feel pain is also sad but it's also good because no one else has to feel it too. Sorry--I made myself start crying, just like I just said, thinking about how I am alone. People say these platitudes about everyone being alone but it isn't true at all. People have art they relate with and they have conversations together and they sit together and hold hands and are not lonely freaks with broken arms. I guess it doesn't even matter that I didn't do anything bad. "No one gets what they deserve" is another platitude I have heard. I don't know how to become a different kind of animal. All I have done my entire life is try to be a different kind of animal while enduring lots and lots of hardship because people are assholes and this entire physical environment is hostile to my physical person. I'm running out of ideas. My last ideas were to get epilepsy medicine. So I will hang in there and keep hoping for that I guess even though I've lost my muscoskeletal system and my hormones and everything on the way. I am so lonely it is physically agonizing. I feel scraped raw, inside and ousdie, on every level of me and of my feelings and my muscles and bones and my mouth and my eyes I"m just completely ground down and now sandstorm by darude is in my head because I'M A REAL FUCKING FUNNY GUY.

i wish my menstrual cycle worked again. everyone gets fucking mad at me for things I know to be true, like how my body works. i hate having to contend with people screaming at me in my head all the time. I hate how "nuts" that sounds but its just PTSD. i tell myself that if enough people acknowledge me instead of tell me that i'm insane or wrong or lying or whatever then i will be cured and feel calm and the screaming memories will be defeated by the reasonable presence of the logical present. Unfortunately I haven't been able to find these people who will affirm my experiences, so Kyle and Collin and all the doctors and everyone from my childhood, everyone, just keep screaming at me. All this to say that I know why my reproductive system has died: it's because no one loves me. Because I have not received any comforting chemicals from another person in years. I've had these "dry spells" before and thought it was all over but was very happy to learn that if i feel loved i feel just fine again. It is too bad I can't buy that. I wish I could buy that with 80 silver spoons and some forks too. I wish there was any way to be loved but there isn't for me. When you're not broken they just want to break you and when you are broken no one wants you except people who like to break broken things even more. The guy who really unloads the cartridge into the corpse, that's who. That was way too sexually graphic and not quite how I meant but you get it.

1.i am not capable of living life because I am too much sick and in pain (and doctors are not helping me to fix my sick and pain so that i can live)
2. the longer i am in this "very sick and painful" state the more damaged i become and the farther i am from an OK state (it will take enormous effort to get back)
3. i am in a society that doesn't give a flying fuck about women actually
4. i was raised to understand that i do not deserve to be alive and i need to work as hard as i can and give 150% of myself to anyone ever and even that will not make the air i breathe worth the waste
5. but i did a good job at the box office lastnight and a woman thanked me a lot and also a coworker baked me a little bit of cake that she baked with the pears i gave her so maybe that's ok. it's not really breaking even but it's not nothing, maybe. maybe a couple of people think of me fondly just for a minute. i don't know.

critics say to me that i've got to make my own goals and achieve them and live for them or whatever, dreams, blah blah. i do this but my choices are wrong. people say they are the wrong goals. i am not allowed to have these goals. i have tried very hard to be in touch with my feelings and know what would make me feel good in the long-term and these are the things that are my goals yet everyone tells me they are wrong. this is probalby because we live in a fucking horrible society with very bad goals and ideas. my goals are things like :

1. get my dad into a safe and healthy living situation so he can have less stress and experience some happiness
2. someone to love and build a future with (very hard goal because it is dependant on luck)
3. work hard at a job doing a good job helping people and making the world better in some way
4. be healthier in my body so i can do a better job at all the above (again dependant on luck, and the whims of doctors?)
5. help all my friends and have fun and help anyone i see who needs help that i can help.
6. get more education so i can do a better job on earth helping people and etc (this is ALMOST An acceptable goal to critics, because it focuses on personal achievement or something)

I don't undersatnd how these are bad goals. I don't know how anyone could look at these ideals and say they are bad. what kind of a fucked up sicko thinks these are bad ideas???? RICHARD SCARRY PROBABLY THINKS I AM CORRECT and Jesus probably does too. I cannot understand the sort of mind a perso must have to not have these kind of goals. Why would I not give something I own to someone who wants it if I don't really want it that much? I don't get it !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

i will not make art ever because i have been told everytime i did anything that could have been like art, whenever i expressed myself in some way, that i should not do that, and that it is harming others, that it is destructive to them, even if i was just singing to myself alone and they happened to pass by they felt they were harmed by me and i should not exist, i should not breathe, i should not dare to make a sound and that is why for all the growing-up years of my life i was as small as i could be and i ate nothing and didn't dare to breathe i didn't dare to say yes or no i tried to be an obelisk and people frowned and said i needed to eat so i would eat but only in front of them and only whatever they told me to do and i was sick i was so sick and so cold and i prayed and prayed and looked into the giant mirror into my eyes in the mirror into the holes in my eyes in the mirror and prayed for some sort of friend.

when a thing i thought was a friend appeared it told me that i should not make the sounds and i should only do what it told me to so i did and that was wrong, too, and it always left

but that's okay and i promise i will never make art again thankyou goodnight sorry