Year: 2016

Psychopaths of Face

 

 

 

 

Chapter 1

The assembly at the funeral was ready for the girl to sing to the mourners of a dead man. The dead man was her grandfather whom with the entire family had loved very much. She prepared a song to sing in which she could display her talents for entertaining. Her family was tight nit and were all attending for the most part and she began blessing the assembly with her voice with a tone of being somewhat detached and distant as she sang a country song that overall was very sweet and received well. The girl was only looked at as a girl because she was small in stature but in fact was a woman, but funny as it is both. After the burial she walked with certain adulation along with her cousins in the graveyard making chitchat about their dresses they had worn. She was in a blue dress and had a red ribbon tied around her waist and she had had golden blonde hair that had slight wavy curls in it. The day was beautiful with the open dark blue skies and glowing sun colored patches of clouds with reds and orange hues. They walked to their cars together then drove to a banquet room next to a church were a meal was prepared for everyone as the long event was coming to a close before life would move more into private and personal troubles that the reader will find out our next character is facing. As for her she finds herself at home lying on a couch in a dark room with the TV on. The night is very still and she has little interest in the movie that she is watching. She has been having trouble sleeping for the past weeks and it seems that she is lamenting a living soul. Her poor circumstance puts her beauty in question in her mind for she is does not have that much money for new clothes and isn’t able to afford traveling to new places anymore. She is stuck in a condition of turning wheels in her head thinking if only I had more money I could live in a warm and bohemian area. Was there a time for slavery to be so present in our minds, she thinks? Her day to day was like a distant need be happening not yet realized. There is no time for ice cream when her nature was so ingrained in her as such being born from a tree. She had suffered a traumatic brain injury in a car accident previously. She is only able to understand more that her injury had shifted her views perhaps. She goes on for days between work and her couch to occasional phone calls but is struggling with something of her former self, her child-ness she still holds onto.   Her adult life is primary set with living with her boyfriend she has been with for several years. She believes he is the one and likes to make him happy and stays with him through her intermittent will to want to get up and leave everything behind. She sometimes likes to act silly with people in a childish way saying ridiculous things about how the people in Hollywood are real nice people. She often sings her favorite song over and over for everyone to bring out her inner child connection with the cosmos and it’s will set things right. She just realized the gravity of time. She had just finished another shift at work and is happy to spend time with her boyfriend. The boyfriend is a very sensitive guy who seems to need her for a committed life as she does him. She does her best to assuage his fears that he is still important to her as she becomes mostly a roommate who just likes having a person around to share in the day to day. She lived and loved hard and found her way from the couch to the phone and then pass the day to day to designing a storybook for herself including wedding plans and a lifestyle in a real princess fashion. It is true girls just want to have fun, that is what her essence is all about, but that is madding. She drifts in and out of the hate for having her focus primarily on money, but that sad but true fact seems to be what she dwells on. “I bet there could be some get together of people of the same mind,” she thinks. “Why is it so hard to find a group of people who do want to do the day to day?” She looks for friends to want to spend time with her as she becomes more aware that she needs something more to do. Her job is only a means to pay rent and her social aspect is craving interactions with someone new. She needs something else to do. Her house has become a gloomy place with the burden of mold in the basement. Her relationship with her boyfriend is strained and they start to argue if they will still be a couple that lives together anymore. So there is nothing wrong about her other then just some personality issues that only seem to make her outgoing? So who will be understanding of the types who fear their lives. Set the stage and take the tickets. It all cost so much for personal gratification. So much of choice there is for what she cares to do. “Perhaps I could wait tables to get by if I don’t hate it completely,” she thinks. What was it that led her to doing social work for her job in the first place because now she decided she did not enjoy doing it so much, so young to be giving people bad news for a living. She is so determined she becomes a facet of time. Trying to have a clear mind and a good space to live in is the only way she will have a chance for her happiness. For it should be clear she is a art child needing to have time to express her beauty in what every form it need take. She is just able to get on better. Much better at finding things to do for there are always things to do. Something else something new, live more, love more. She is one that can handle it. There is so much that affords her in life the benefit of being young. She then finds her way to “summer camp” for two weeks but it happened to be the hospital and it was winter. Her energy and sleeplessness was all it took by chance to find him. The guy who it took too long for him to know his own nature found her beckoning to him. Under the circumstance they hit it off well and seem to be somewhat compatible though she was very approachable as it was anyways.   She may be better or worse off having met a guy like he. What could he offer as ways of advice to her because he was older and was supposed to in his mind find some wisdom to impart but that wasn’t necessary and she did not expect that of him. Mostly they just enjoyed having each other to talk to and became rather glad the other was with them. They share company for two weeks and then what else is there? The reader will simply need to know that this meeting was of by chance and from it what choices they will make having seen themselves the same for such a short period of time. She has met him in turmoil of medication error and will move on from her set back and carry on to get her will sorted out. It has always been about making oneself happy. She has always known that. If she could only know that he is not that different from her for only in the liberty of this country are their lives different, opinions aside it is true that love is dead, other than self-love most certainly. There is only that love for oneself and he is slower to realize that, and some people need a lot of time to be ready to care for others for being alone in the world is his dark truth and broken faith in humanity makes working for money the worst evil, the necessary evil of what we knows of society

 

 

 

Chapter 2

He was the best of us, he was the best its fair to say. He did some of everything and even played some basketball and skateboarded for crying out loud but that doesn’t seem to matter anymore. He is of somewhat athletic build of average size but has found it hard to do a game of basketball without feeling it strain on his body now that he has begins middle adulthood. He finishes playing some one-on-one basketball with and fellow who was around his dwellings and is winded trying to keep up the fight with a fifteen-year-old scrapper. He goes inside and pops the cap of a beer to relax, to bad for him he was left under that roof thinking to himself “oh no what about the finer things in life?” That was not for him. He finds his space shaping around him in his squalor and connections of what must be endless patience waiting for him to be that guy we all new he would supposedly be the big part of all and a butt of the joke hope for humanity. So how many last ditch efforts did the guy have you may ask? There were a lot of them I suppose. He can’t seem to get over the sounds that surround his living. The nut job of people he deals with makes it hard to get passed drinking and playing basketball. Always the sound of a basketball bouncing with some little brat talking to himself against his will to study and learn. He has heard a whisper in a brief moment of quiet but it has gone away, his fate was to be surrounded from noisy neighbors that he could not understand living there much longer as an option. He has been watching the same TV show for two years thinking it something other than a form of fantasy, which to him he is entirely wrong to do so. The best enjoyment he could find was a bottle of wine and watching a movie about surviving in a jungle against an alien predator as he eats a philly cheese steak sub then mixes a sip of wine in his mouth chews them together and forgets his lot in life if only for a short time. He was two aswell, his inner child has gone into the cosmos in search for help against this pain of society. His adult side is what makes sense of the higher and lower self. As adult he is simply responding to information as it is fragile like the inner child but is the part that survives in life to become most of the day-to-day living operator for him. An adult child is how he likes to view himself. The lower parts of self being more a child adult is simply concerned with gratification. The inner child is just as much of a part of the higher parts of his self only it is not forced or likely to remain as an intact part of the self as one loses contact with it’s cosmic nature as typical formation of being an adult in contemporary society makes it’s hard to stay. The cosmic nature is a creative force and a chief principle in ones connection with true happiness or so it may be thought. He says to himself “I’ve been dehumanized I know that now.” “There will be no more child’s play it seems the time is up.” For the past ten years he’s been wanting for scars to fade with no luck. To give up on things, but to have a personality of can do is entirely based on how he views his self in terms of looks and that is simple fact. His adult self has to hate how things have been nothing but prolonged misery of an existence. Living in squalor for what’s worst is his very time of privacy is up. The time is now to conquer the world while there is still time left. “I wouldn’t worry about it it’s just me trying hard,” he says to himself. A worry of actually being insane starts to concern him. His despair gets to him and his age makes it worse that there is nothing much more than boredom in everything. To just survive until he is not legally required taking medicine that makes him feel so discombobulated. It must be the injections he receives for his continued stay of commitment, why else would he feel so out of sorts? It’s as if his mind were a lighthouse encased in fog rendering the light unable to shine through to find any truth in his situation. They may take pity on him the few who talk or in anyway interact with him but none do. For what he is forced to do to get attention from others is the only thing he can by selling himself as an artist, philosopher, and musician is by no means easy. He reads some intellectual material he sometimes takes to the bar making himself stand out as the only one who chooses to read at such an occasion. He finds it much easier to read a comic book then to read philosophy at the bar for the limited need to focus on the topics. Most times when he’s at the bar he can’t seem to find anyone else like him. “There all just people trying to get away from their homes for a short while,” he thinks. That must be the commonality. “It’s personal but isn’t it always you know” he says to himself. “A way to remember that is, your own story that is whatever it means to you.” “So someone to put it to I guess.” “Don’t give me this unfinished story bullshit, I want to be in a better place.” To remember he was loved once but from whom. He need not know man preys on women at will when he wants. He finds self-reflection the only thing to do and has a hard time finding any way to be positive about being single. He would like so much to be able to have her in his life but just feels that he can’t sell her anything not even a story of a man. Insanity just insanity, good work but nothing but lonely misery. Stay of living so cold always cold for most of the year for him. He need be a person for Christ sake a person! The best that can be afforded to him with no social aspect to his life being it better to know what he does not like he must always ask in addressing his current circumstance. Truly one of his own kind and alone for that reason why? He can only do so much and it kills him that he must submit to what he’d be better suited for how he used to be, but now there is a daunting affirmation need to be fulfilled. It’s like constantly fighting off an infection for him. Collecting his thoughts seems to be his biggest past time. Rediscovering things and reliving some things, but why is there a purpose to be defeated undoing the meaning of things leaving them somehow not good. She is detached, he thinks of her as some sort of robot with some of her personality gone elsewhere. What is left is only textbook right answers that should pass off as interest. “You can’t make people like you” he thinks and does not know what to do about the friendship he’s tried to maintain with her.

 

 

 

 

Chapter 3

The universe works in mysterious ways. The time lines are merging as cyber empires and normalcy go. The work is done it is time to kick back and relax if only that were true. Getting on is the tattoo on his mind. A reality check is some small towns you never make your way out of, as the whole United States is only so big for the king of nothing. It seems what he wants and what he has doesn’t really agree with each other. It is time for him to find his nature and who is behind this, this prison type of life that is meaningless and why should it be dept slavery, love longing, and happiness suppression. The most important work in the world, defeat the snakes. Just talking and writing is a means to influence others. The whole despair thing as it happens to be only possessed by some will make people crazy. If not romantic than of a heroic nature all the same the art of living and the realm of despair have shown their faces to him in ways other than dreams. He didn’t know who to talk to and that a women needs to be approached and man supposed to prey. He is slow to understand women and now you know. This world tries to make both him and her less human as there cosmic nature is of no use on Earth. Cold, the first focus is always to how to stay warm. The king of nothing and the Cyber Empire have in some way connected. Turn on and shut off. The ability to manage states of unrest and undesirable circumstances is not easy. How is it one can be in the mood or motivated to live? It is a form of shopping, life long shopping it seems. I want this I want that sort of thing. How do friends and love interests play into reality? For him he is simply questioning the premise of life it’s self. If not in fulfilling relationships and no worldly success what can he do but question his life? His views and interactions between people seem to be hollow consolatory gestures. He thinks if woman are robots then it is the moon who is responsible for there programming. Then what of man? For surely there is a difference. He resigns to being his own resource a source called the hollow reservoir. He had been summoned to the woods and so he pools all his resources to assemble a pontoon boat. He works on building it for weeks in the driveway pounding nails in boards drilling holes and tying rope. How great it was for him to have enjoyed working so hard. His greatest achievement was convincing his two childhood friends to help haul it down to the river. He sets up camp and stitches up a tent out muslin canvas, branches, rope, and dental floss. He talks to trees and does the whole loony ordeal of marking his territory and of course is smoking tobacco. He wasn’t so hateful back then and could cry for the moon in his misery of running away from home. There is so much trash out there it is good to get away from it, so much for his going out at night, going nowhere at least he wasn’t so depressed back then but now writing this I see how depressing it actually was. This neighborhood is trying to remove him from this place it’s not healthy the way he tried to put roots down in it having committed his memories of the neighborhood in his large painting and having run all over the place at great lengths wondering along the river at varying distances and directions at time wadding his way in the river and even marching several miles into town all because it seems heaven had in the past mated with earth causing some men who feel lost and to be confused as to were they should be. The pang of the insanity hits him again. Driving and alcohol and some sort of task, anything really is the only thing he knows to do. He operates as a hateful man in his alone time if he is lucky to feel content for any length of time at all. The attention span for other people’s art is all determined completely by the vibe. The amount of time that can be spent making recording music and feeling creative are primarily available to him in the morning when he wakes up. He has moments where it is almost as if he is with a friend when he creates as he talks through the process out loud like a painter who pretends to have an audience. So eventually he fills as many roles for himself as possible as his own lover, taskmaster, driver, and reluctant friend. He has been leaving the house whenever he could whether or not he had his own car or money. It was his hometown bar he started to find a sort of sanctuary for him. He finally was happy I guess you could say, but then one night he found picking himself off the ground of the parking lot with police finding him there after a valiant fight with strangers witch ultimately lead him to being choked in a head lock to the point were he could not breath but fortunately the grip was loosened as he was taping the ground in shock before he would lose consciousness. They all ran once the police showed up and another trip in the ambulance once again in his life this time to get him treatment to see if he sustained any neck injuries. He receives a disorderly conduct charge and then finds his way through a long time of punishment for it. The length of time has made little say in his life as of most currently. Some of the same feelings of happiness and contentment are illusive for him most his commitment time. A vacation to not have to work with semi cold beer will have to do for him either that or the alternative of just doing jail time. Organize is simply waste management. A corrupt file, the darkness of space, and lose ends need that need be corrected. Living arrangements and career trajectory, but how to get on with some self-esteem issues that need be addressed with the only consolation being books and masturbation if at all. Getting off prescription drugs and living with the best treatment that one can find. Seeing a future is hard but living in the day is possible. A companion for the evening is in want. It all seems like habits to start only to eventually stop. There is a future you must know or is the past all there is. Obvious set backs and trauma he has to sort through. He sure could use a better antidepressant but then realizes that is not the real solution. The evil that reoccurs in his life is troubling and I guess understanding ones self does have its limits it seems. Psychological profiles are the way to file everyone neatly, everyone’s dirty little secrets they live with for their claim to life. Does one even think about redeeming themselves? I’m sure for feeling good is better than feeling bad, but then how does good operate? It simply wants us to know the error of our ways I suppose and evil does not care about having a conscious. The past is filled with the struggles sometimes siblings have their way of manifesting themselves as tormentors. The other tormentor being a mother who demands respect and show of love takes strange displays of a controlling nature and often makes for a bad family time, and if to many tormentors get together they become monsters amplifying each others need to subjugate thinking themselves as perfectly normal in doing so.   To have a life and not be a psycho or just watching the same recycled shows over and over how many times. The little things in life that build up to be troublesome to the psyche as it were are at the most devastating when it is only the blame that lands on oneself. My obsession is what, not feeling alone. I have been driven into seclusion to tell you the reader that when he had everything figured out then someone had to but hands on him then eyes too. I also think it would drive anyone insane to have their brain picked so much, the folly of an intellectual, but to the avail of what need be written for so those who are made to think their evil when their not get there say. For simply writing became an interest and option, much like his art not a common calling for most for it is the desperate and depraved it appeals to and a gift to hear the white voice. For all we know technology is what allows people to be happy in the most part, but there is more to the unseen to be made seen. I have little interest in science but more in the human capacity to know suffering, embarrassment, and pain. So logically the magic of art is to be the purer solution to true understanding a fuller picture of living other than what science and technology can offer. Those who retain a strong human connection to feeling oppressed may find ways to communicate this if some art is made about it. It is man that is magic. A simple cause and effect of his time spent and accumulated worth along with it. Life takes away some of his humanity for I suppose feeling, and by preference feeling good is the only meaning of life, but at what cost especially to others, the more susceptible people. He has discovered a lot of bad and pain and if I need say he has lost his humanity but it hasn’t been that long for him to know what is still ahead. Yes his life is not pleasant he seems to find ways of feeling that in the extreme. The drug respirdol shuts down his ability to utilize his brain but my brain is under the affect of that same drug so it is known now that he is my own struggling soul that happens to be very upset with society in what they will do to people by way of things such as forced medication. Find out how to get it repealed you might ask because I’m not even playing with a full deck and this story of mine is about serving this time for little reason at all. Six months is too long to have to take shots but this writer’s troubled soul need be spoken of but it’s hard and I need to find a way to tell the story with addressing the pain but enough for now of my resentments it is they who are committing crimes. A therapist has a set of eyes on me so no need to be overly concerned.

 

 

Chapter 4

He knows that depression is not real anymore there is only the life he has. It is that knowledge that there is a lot of bad in this world. One must separate themselves from as much bad as possible for too much bad is detrimental to good health. He has been surrounded by it causing him despair for simply feeling trapped and stagnant. To move more and make progress is the best though he knows its not easy to get help.  He must find his will and know that being persuasive is a benefit but concept he loathes. How many forms of persuasion are there? The truth of the matter is people hate helping others and this is a help yourself world. There are times that the balance can be turned to yearn for living again past learning, but life is a life long learning process trying to fight of the infection of samsara. The house he spends his prison sentences in has become his mother as if he’s living in her belly again. Really it is the coffee maker that is his home and wherever he goes with it will be his home. It is the art child that partly responsible for this.   Her ability to suggest and persuade is her milk and honey and she pays an awful price for it. Getting there always getting there but is there ever a time where one simply arrives?  Probably not for her at any great length of time in this world. The first instinct for a person of good spirit in this universe is to get out, but what ever this universe is it does not want people getting out. Each and every day people live in jail and would be lucky to have their life ended from the body. It takes about eighty years or so then what; try not to be reincarnated again to a life of slavery. It is said that there are dark forces that use people who then are the cause for a lot of misery to the masses for them to carry out there quest for power. Again he thinks he must be alone but can’t be at peace yet for the quest to have is on his mind rather than accept living in want. All the unfinished business of life but why is it that women hate him so. Even men have large reservations with trusting him for maybe seeing that he has no faith in humanity if only he could prove otherwise would he have a chance at being liked by others. It seems the inner child has brought back news from the cosmos. He wonders if he can understand what answers it will give. How even was he to trust the child to help if it was darker now in perspective cosmic knowledge for it has gone away only to bring back a message saying, “you are doing holy work and that cancer shall not touch you.” He finds the cosmic nature troubling as he has a hard time believing in himself and is not sure what exactly what the cancer was suppose to be. He now seems less able to grasp onto much direction for his time. He sits in a chair outside smoking and for some reason it no longer seems to be giving him any solace for passing the time. “I guess the time to enjoy smoking has past,” he says but most likely he will finish his pack all the same. “Only coffee for me maybe.” What fantasy is there for him to cling to.  For everyday there is a need for something that he may rest his mind upon. Waiting to come into his greatness is all he is doing. The lonely vacation or jail time what ever it is, but surely some sort of prolonged agony of his life. Spring is the season now and finally the sun has given more warmth to the house where he stays. He still is in the habit of wearing sweatshirts and jackets and sleeping with a wool blanket for it is still cold at times. He sees his face every day in the mirror and looks at what ever his reflection tells him. Is there too much sharing of personal pain in what he shows, my guess is yes. This guy is not one to say he is ready to go get them with a can do self esteem march on life just yet, but he is wasting into what is afforded to him his lonely guitar and paint brushes and even those he has a hard time finding fulfilling. Having no social interactions and having low self esteem make most things a kind of drudgery for he is supposed to perhaps be excited to move into some apartment as if it will be good for him. His will to love people when he has not much love for himself is stifled obviously to the point were he will even resent being apart of occasions he will have to attend. Perhaps there are some other adjustments that can give a life back to a man that has lost so much over the years. In the meantime it seems whatever cigarettes and coffee can offer him. Not much to live for is there for him. Suspended between gratification and progress the great balance that has been lost on him. Hard to understand but it is his private hell he must navigate alone to a point of resolving these issues. How the time of several years has prepped him to complete just a little more for there are still some more months to go. To be brought to the sidelines in life is what became of the troubled years finding a way around it however challenging for how things need to be done and settling for the low points is unacceptable anymore.  No more set backs! He doesn’t seem to care about other people much for how could he. The one thing that seems to be playing on his mind is the woman on the TV. He notices how nicely she fills into her outfits and seems to wonder more about wanting time to see her, but the silliness of seeing her that seems to lift his spirits that a man could like a women on the TV,  but it’s like she speaks a secret to him. Life again proves to be funny that way. There was his chemistry teacher that made an impression on him. He knew from the first day of class that she was a rare one and that he was lucky enough to deal with a good human being for that is in his experience seems to be an exception. When they talked she seemed to drift into a dream state as if she was longing for some private fantasy and she new that he preferred for eye contact to be that of looking to the side of the person for he dislikes people looking at him straight in the eye. This made her very appealing and approachable for him how she would notice and understand him without starring at him. This was one of the few people he had enjoyed in a long time. Well there are habits that become the man. What happened to the man he used to be? I think he is just on his way back to that person he left behind who had more enthusiasm towards forward progress. Without playing with a full deck how is he supposed to achieve greatness? The rigid framework of a mental illness is what thankfully for some can see as bullshit. A job for some extra money would do a lot of good once that threshold for it is built up again. One month is a long time and three is even longer. He remembers standing in a jail cell; here he was staring out the doors hanging his arms out the openings. Constantly wanting to see other humans and trying to engage them. There was someone at a center desk some of the time and a person who would walk through the circular jail cell room. The night spent there was short enough and there was a breakfast of French toast with some orange juice given to him in his cell. The woman who was working that night wanted to tell him he was going to need thousands of dollars for the trouble he has been found in. A simple yellow light turn light that he drove on perhaps to late, but did anyways not noticing there was a police car behind him gets himself cuffed and put into jail for the night. He submits to a breathalyzer test and blows a .08 the exact lowest point of illegal levels of intoxication.

 

Chapter 5

The king of nothing, what a mystery for people to try to view themselves in such a way, for this must be some person who doesn’t seem to fully understand their self. Having nothing and being able to live that way or to say making his living from nothing is hard to grasp. What can he do with wire, pliers, newspapers, and glue? A recording of time with nothing but what he can create in small moments of bliss and anguish by assembling order out of chaos. It is just stuff and just something to do until enough of it is done to be something. The idea of enjoyment is very private for him. It is something good enough to do to commit time to what else? The whole thing need be redeemed somehow that together these separate pieces of effort be called a collection of work from a human being. He thinks back to when he worked at a target store. How phony the operations were there. I bet some people could make it there but he was working two jobs at the time when he was eighteen and then one day they let him go in some passive aggressive way because the trial period of work was over and they did not want him anymore. He had started work from a young age then came a time that he has found his way out of it. A need to understand a work history with large gaps is his problem. I guess he just never found a job that was a good fit for him to work for a long periods of time. His goal some day is to have an art portfolio and eventually hold down a job. To have a bachelors degree and work maybe is the best plan then just degree hunting further. The empoyment gaps in part can be explained partially as time focused on art projects. Understanding is important. What does it all mean? A lot of it is between the refrigerator and toilet. Maybe everything isn’t funny but there is art and the artist somewhere between the vicinity of the truth and the farm. The home has taken on a personality and uses his mother as a sick computer file that makes her into a demonic robot because her soul has been tainted. It scares him to see this side of evil as the house has a bad energy that makes those who live in it crazy. Remember everything is wrong there is a corrupt file that has infected the program of mother. A force that has gone the way of will to subjugate another and will to have control over another is this perverted computer mind that is tormented and can not ever seem to get things resolved to being good for conflict is what it seems to favor. He is his mother’s absolute plaything and this is what hell means and is like. While he is in the house he is miserable unfortunately this is what he has fallen upon. As I’m writing this I can’t explain how life beset itself in such an awful way to feel pain so deeply for him. For a well to do family there is no going back to the house you grew up in to live with a parent it is not healthy to do so. Living sick is what I can tell you of him but he knows what not for. “Why am I made to feel so much pain,” he thinks. Life just took him for a ride and dropped him off at his mothers with nothing but trauma. I mean Jesus Christ you think he would have at least had sex or had a good girl friend nope nah that would mean life gave a shit that he was living. Ok well at least you would think he has friends right? Wrong again. Building a life from a pile of shit, all hatred for at the age of 29 that much pain of being hospitalized 5 times, drugged, never loved, no wealth or friends you tell me is that fair.

 

 

Chapter 6

The Earth has become a corrupt program that is a jailhouse. Heaven had done something wrong in allowing this place. If I write about a person who knows this what hope does that make for the author of the universe to write a better story. It seems that everything is evil, this whole life at best was about knowing the error of our ways but what is it that he’s done to have to live like this? “All that life has taught me is that I’m not good enough to deserve to be happy but why,” he thinks. “All those friends you never get the pleasure of meeting.” “I wonder if I will have to be killed by someday if I were a snake.” He thinks back to when he found a snake in his boat. “What is it that made me do it?” he says wondering. “Some fear of having to handle it I suppose.” “I don’t know what to say about it, but then what is it about the snake that it in my memory causes such fear?” “They seem to look and move like some sort of hallucination that is why their frightening.” “I don’t mean to pick on misquotes next but some things about life just doesn’t make sense.” “I want to believe there is good but life just seems to be rain and snakes.” “I looked it in the eye and it did not see me as a friend.” “We talked and I think we both knew what was going to happen.” “It wanted to be found and it wanted me to kill it.”   “I have eaten part of the apple and killed the snake and live my days out on Earth trying to believe in a father in Heaven.” “Make the most out of it and try to be self-sufficient is the knowledge I was given.” “I want to make it work with what I got because ultimately that’s all I can do,” he says. The rest must be racial memory. It’s like saying some animals are not good. There must be a price for knowledge of good and evil. The snake has a cosmic nature and influence to it and was somehow brought into creation. He often wonders when he walks down to the river where the next snake will be that took the other’s place. My tree of several that came before it was in to his house where he lives. The ones that came before it didn’t make it, quite a bit of them. This avocado tree is different it was planted by seed and by chance grew and has been moved into it’s bigger planter by the window in the new room of the house. I think he enjoys the tree as it affords him to care for another thing. A lover of things that can be more than things but living things that is apart of this world as well. The trees are all blooming now at least the ones that are alive. Some rain and the greening of the trees that in the past made more of an impression on him. This seems to happen every year but some trees fall or stand dead but the vines don’t seem to care if it grows on something living or dead but seems to favor the living. The day was cold and he was transpiring to the point of karate with trees. Who was it going to be this time? It was number 6 the Jesus tree that was the one who bore his dark secrets in his shadow. If at times they have written of him he is a god or the devil he also was a dead Adam who has eaten some of the apple but knows his mother not. To feel oneself die while living causes new worlds to open up full of mountains and dragons were there is a dark fortress. This dark world be it somehow a place that invites a certain kind of artist to merge with but this soul is at odds with things. He then calls on the dark one with traveling skull carriers that in his dance, theatrics, and fire afforded an audience with him. A simple message he was given with the glowing red smoke in his chamber from the medicine man saying “I want you to be a man,” and then as part of magic reluctantly he began sleeping like a snake while awake” for a prolonged spell. He felt as if he hasn’t slept in over a year with his mind on constant defense and attack he was battling against some hard-core witchcraft for around thirty days before the worst of it was over. Some taste of dread can be recalled when unearthly parasitic organisms caused pain to his body making it impossible to rest. Fighting against sickos has been some of the worst experiences he has ever had the un-pleasure of knowing.

 

 

Chapter 7

A bat has attached itself on the exterior of the new addition of the house. It is this house now that has bats and a skeleton under the garage. He begins to see life in two ways work and play. He is afforded this way to be an artist and get paid regardless to work as a citizen of the United States of America who is mentally disabled. So then how’s that worked out for him? It has been the only ticket to moving out of the house and seeking a job that would be one of those things people would say as a career rather then just something to get by. Having an intellect of art in all its forms takes skill in truly blending reality with fantasy with truth. Bored and somewhat of a sloth he has nothing to lose except that he does. It will get better for him but things take time he is just really sensitive to time and needs to find someone to defend beside himself. He would be the perfect boyfriend for someone because he is a strong person and someone could see that he is a good person and they could defend each other in life. It is time that he finds his space brothers. A house in space and full of stuff that is how he saw the future he finds himself in now. It was either working with monsters in his room that he was locked into or people using other people’s fantasies much like virtual realities to pass the time. The ability to know these couple people was of mixed emotions and it is strange the type of work they do and this writer knows not what he should presume of them. Some sort of halfway house in space for people that have addictions and dependency issues is part of the impression in its lesser form as it may appear. “Not a whole lot to live for is there?” he thinks. He is somewhat disheveled and knows that his mood and self-talk have been things he needs to work on. Animals have some impression on him as do women and he meets the ones that come across his path and short conversations may be had then something else to focus on. Living in the moment is all he can do. It became his inability to rest well that he has lost that side of life he is just constantly on edge. There then comes the moments of gaining progress in being independent. Then there is a work he pays money to do which seems pretty absurd about college. That is the highest point in life he has reached and is so close to another college degree. It’s the constant looking forward to the next moment that makes for misery, but is the hope he gets a life that can be better. There is some more time he has to do in the squalor of his mother’s house and the best he can do is drink coffee in the morning alone on weekdays and work when he can push himself to make art.   Life affords him a lot of time for self-reflection. Others have noted the constant complaining of his life at this time. He knows he is a good person but has a hard time seeing good in anyone else. Just being stuck with art is tough. It could be worse but his depression keeps sinking to new lows. He can’t believe it is normal for him to feel this bad for so long. Last happy memory for him was painting and drinking beer and also using his mind to try to understand the universe better while reading a certain book. There is so much we don’t know that actually makes up our reality besides the choices we get to make along the way. If his biology can be brought to a better feel good level then that has to be his focus. It becomes scary that being happy seems like an illusion to him, but he has faith that he will feel better when he leaves this house and the neighborhood that has defeated him and drove him into despair. Soon he may have his own place and do stuff for himself but he is just so time sensitive and can’t see to many positive things in life. As much as he understands about what’s important in life is good sleep and stress and anxiety management. He remembers while he was in the hospital. The fact that he had one time in the day to take an adivan for a short period of time while he didn’t always take it he then would start to take it after breakfast each day until they would not give him the pill anymore. He would much rather still have the adivan to have then having cigarettes.

 

 

Chapter 8

Why was he the best of us you ask? He was the only one who tried to be a force not entirely of this world. He loved getting high and getting inspired that seemed to be what he was meant to do. His art as it begins to express it’s self more isn’t commercial but deeply personal. The privilege to make art is entirely based on effort put forth. To be able to be a guide for others is now his life’s calling. To have the means of hard work and experience finally allow him a sense of peace is what he deserves. To have a job that one enjoys seems to be what life is all about. What is it that life does to stop him? His own sadness about something perhaps his dark experience not changing enough for once one lives in despair to long it becomes a handicap. The need to remember that he has a life outside of his mother’s house and for eight years of taking happiness suppressing drugs is the problem. Having no serotonin to use to feel a shred of self worth has been horrific treatment. To solve for a person who can get manic at times it is then ok to permanently say he needs to feel like shit instead, is that suppose to be right? I get feeling down temporally some times about things but to feel that way for long periods of time is devastating to soul. I can’t seem to believe getting manic at times warrants this awful treatment. The only difference from the hospital and his mother’s home is that he has internet privileges and is able to smoke cigarettes. It is important in life to control your feelings. It is just cigarettes, beer, and fast food companies that want him to be a loyal consumer it seems. The world doesn’t appreciate him as being anything else. Control your feelings and buy things, how to live for that. I would think for him he can only do those things for so long. Life is interesting when you become able to feel emotions genuinely and splurge on things sometimes. A guy just needs some love sometimes rather than just making everyone else feel good all the time. All his efforts in sharing his music and art on the internet has been just a personal project it really hasn’t gone anywhere. His 2d and 3d art is all he can do with his time when he feels good enough to do it. Other then that it has been trying to stay warm in his mother’s house for the basement is cold all year round. He so far has been at his mother’s house for two years and has completely ran out of things to do for himself there. He has smoking breaks and journaling and watching downloaded shows. He is looking forward to a higher quality life around the corner. One were he gets a sense of independence and progress on goals. He remembered the intense focus he had last time he moved out of the house to be a student again. He made several lists and was on the internet searching for apartments and gathering transcripts making phone calls using all his means available to afford rent and groceries. Then really pushing himself at school getting good grades all while living in apartments that where far too loud for him to rest well. Then one day it was the straw that broke the camels back and he just wasn’t able to stay well adjusted anymore. He was traveling quite a bit going to New York, San Francisco, Yosemite Park, Los Angelis, and Idaho. Then his escapades driving away at night got worse   It is also worth noting that he tried his darndest to meet some girls he was interested in with nothing but wasted effort to show for it. Those two years went fast with all the work he was doing in school and drinking in his spare time. His past two years has moved incredibly slow because I guess you could say that he liked being busy more and taking care of himself much better then not being independent because he enjoyed grocery shopping and cooking and cleaning and relaxing at his own place. It starts to happen to him in October when the weather cools that he begins to have troubles with things. He now needs to have plans put into place that he can handle those things. No more can he deal with certain family members around those times. I don’t know about living in a van at a walmart parking lot but some backup plan would be nice. I don’t think that will be something he would consider because the stupid rule of not being able to have a savings more then two thousand dollars means that would do no good. The ability for him to budget and have money to save would be good. Access to school loans may do a lot of good, but he will have 2 months living in his apartment before school starts and a road trip so that makes things real hard to start out with finding any money to use. Four hundred fifty dollars he’ll have and he might need one thousand two hundred and thirty and hope he doesn’t need more for last month’s rent but who knows. Life is giving him another shot. To have his own space to operate in and to study and relax and focus more on goals will be nice to have again. The most important thing is to never live back at his mom’s if at all possible. To get a job and start to have a savings is now his obsession in life. What kind of work can he do with a bachelor’s degree there has got to be something? The hospital and banking and college industries are huge but he would rather work at a liquor store or something. He is torn on the subject of having a saving because he never really ever built one up before. The best thing he’s done is pay off his credit card once. Maybe just living extremely cheap until all his desired schooling is over may be best for complete focus on a career. 2018 have a bachelors and start a masters degree in 2019 for two years and prove he’s worked in the art mediums.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 9

Calling people up and going for walks, beer, tobacco, and guitar practice with some effort on art and to chill the fuck out for he is so anxious all the time about his interactions with people. He calls her hoping not to be foolish but in a loving way of wanting a friend. She is nice enough to text back that she is at work and is sorry she can’t talk. She had said that he can always text her and he should focus on how nice it is to have that chance to be in communication with her. The king of nothing is in ways happy but would like to be a person who can call on others to set up his work. A list of materials needed and a space to create full time would be amazing. So many sidetracks from actually doing the work. The production of work could double or triple maybe as things get arranged. How do you deal with life is every ones task. The artist who can live in his own place by his benefits then take on more work as the threshold is built up for it. A production of work for parts of the day with several projects to work between and the assembly processes more familiar. It would be awesome to be a productive artist other then the little time he does such works. Art is expensive to make and takes a methodical mind to ever get anywhere with it. His playing ability on the guitar has been improved as he can practice little songs he puts together then sings them on guitar while recording video. What has been funny about life for him is that he finds some of the most fulfilling experiences are when he dreams. There is no doubt some forces that connect with his mind to make him feel good give him some mercy to guide him though the mystery behind dreams for him that is the only sign that there is good somewhere out there. How life has always been and what he wants gives him a shred of hope that there are still options for him. He will be moving into the best part of his life that is still ahead of him. He like anyone else will have to learn how to have a good time with himself. It has always been about making oneself happy that isn’t easy but is the driving force in life, and what does one give up on pursuit of happiness you might ask. It is the things that prevent one from attaining happiness. To love yourself is to do anything for yourself to feel better. A plan is in motion and the sheets need to be cleaned. The beard is only a distraction much like most things in life. The true aim is to be in control of ones own happiness with some pretending if need be at times. One thing remains for him that he try again to fix what has been a broken part of himself. That be all that need be said about it at the moment is that he is going to do something for himself to try to feel better. Until then the basics of phone calls and follow through. His first apartment set up was a family pain like how he drove three hours to look around the Moorhead looking for apartments. He had to borrow his dad’s car and make a list from signs for open apartments. Then rent a u-haul and drive there with family. The whole trip with interactions with his brother whom has always pissed him off was no different that day. Moving is not that fun but the idea of being moved out is supposed to lift the spirits. His up coming move is his sixth apartment he will be moved into. The days that were worst was after his breakdown at college the complete breaking of the spirit while he pushed through summer school to get his associates degree he then lived at home for four years and lived like a mother’s boy who was just running away from having any responsibility. Reading over fifteen books and playing over fifteen video games if not more than those amounts he also worked a total of three different jobs during those years and was a regular jogger. Let’s just say he must of handled it fairly well due to his younger age.  I would have to presume for now spending time seems much worse, and if he is now to old to settle for that hermit living and the dead end jobs. Now the calling of affirmation of life that has been heard by seeing himself in her the one who was like him at twenty three all emotionally stressed out that the mind needed to be burdened with reality. The mind was young before and could privately take care of it’s self, but now he feels the need to fit in more and be integrated into society. I would say of him that he is not an alcoholic but one who would much rather drink in his off time most certainly. Spending time is tricky finding the art that one can find as a form of truth to prolong young age to confident man who has date money. So the parties that he had been apart or heard of the way to be a young man. Gasoline and fire and ninja turtles to the neighborhood being parked full to whatever beer could offer. He can give up cigarettes but not beer for to long and the childish need to be pacified never ends. A chance for someone to drink on a Sunday how strange for living is cursed to need pacification to not be burdened with the blank space. For what work has this writer done but to give the reader a real honest perspective of a soul that has had a commodity of misery. He has had a good eighteen years and then a rocky eleven years after that. The balance between child and adult is the difference between art and science, king of nothing and cyber empires, cosmic nature and mother nature, and not quite half a life being more bad then good. The house has overwhelmed him and life defeated him he wakes in the morning with everything abandoning him leaving him forsook of a peaceful mind. He is left with one safe area and that is his bed that he had put a magical triangle around. The rest of the house is taken over by restless spirits that like to torment his mind. For his best work has to be from sleep and going out of body to see the spirit world and long behold there is a spirit in this house who is female and most think the house belongs to her, wanting some one to make feel as miserable as she must be. Other than that there are guy pals who fear him because they are taught to for some reason probably how everything looks on paper claiming him a time bomb and bound to end up in the hospital. It has always been the house that has driven him insane and the way he gets fed up with people. Emotional distress is one thing but evil and cruelty is a completely different monster of the world.

 

Chapter 10

It just seems to be getting worse as I write about his story. Each thing about him leads to a troubling truth about lies he believes. I will always be a writer of truth, but perhaps writing of the soul has me concerned if it will ever be at piece for it wails in hidden pain prolonged for too long he needs to seek peace. The time is short. He has made a lot of time pass. He is a normal person who likes to have peace. It’s good that he has another shot at peace from this house. When he first had an apartment to himself it was clear he could take care of himself. His dad was always pressuring him to make money while he was in school and so he started making some money as a delivery driver. His grades weren’t great that year but he tried to enjoy using his space to be a comfortable place to live. He at that time was still obsessed about pot and gave up a lot to that pursuit. His hair was grown out long and he would do his own haircuts. He was reasonably happy and doing reasonably well over all. His next year in college was different he moved into a house with a roommate. He lasted as long as he could with the way of things but could not handle the fact that his roommate had a girlfriend stay at the place so much it drove him mad. He then thought that he should go to the clinic and ask for help with his anxiety. He then got a prescription for Zoloft and he now had adopted a dog that he wasn’t probably fit to have. He was doing so many things painting, 3d art, drinking, smoking, and even driving all the way to Minneapolis, and St. Paul and on his way he stopped to tape up art at gas stations then in school hallways and began dressing himself real poorly. Then the great escape from Moorhead took place he went to paint studio class and sat down with someone else’s painting and tossed some cleaning powder on it then made some paint marks on it and left all while he had been counting fifteen minutes in his head while he had his truck parked in the back of the loading area then preceded on a plan to drive to Duluth. He had awoke that day with a plan to rent a hotel room in Duluth and see a girl who he had called up after seeing recently. He needed wine and condoms. He got the condoms then drove then to a liquor store god knows were. He at this point thought he was Jesus and that he should not have to wait in line and said he was going to walk out of the liquor store. He punched an old man who wanted to stop him then the cops were called. He then was brought to his brother’s house and this time thought it was the ending of the world and missiles were being fired into enemy countries. He had no inhibitions and didn’t know right from wrong. At a high point in conversation he began talking about the universe and said, “Good is good” and felt that he was uttering a tremendous truth. He went out side and through a stick in the air and was convinced it disappeared. He then had the idea to take a shovel and strike the dogs neck with the thought that he would be killing it. His brother now got him into the car and drove him to the hospital and all the while he was trying to remember license plate numbers on his way there. He remembered everything but was in a state of drug-induced psychosis. There was more details that have been left out but he was not mentally controlling his emotions if he had the thought or the impression he would act on it instantly and was extremely impulsive and suggestible. This all would end up being an extremely embarrassing experience that he would reflect on nightly as he lay in bed after he became stabilized for months to come. In the telling of his stories he seems to build up enough energy to the point he breaks down then needs to rebuild. The severity of his mental illness is largely denied for he gets emotional at times then runs out of options. All the hope there is he can find meaning in his life and have some self-esteem. What about the few times he believed he had teleported in his car driving at night some how covering distances he can’t remember driving. What about feeling that he had someone trying to make love to him who was invisible. What about all the times he has cried about his own life so will the universe or God give him something to live for at all times, or does he have to settle for anxious loneliness more than he can bear? It’s like being on a plane most the time waiting to arrive at the destination for him just like anyone else that can admit that. It is better to love life by not taking medication truly that is his only excuse. The story has gone on for five months and one more to go still. This writer is one of the most helpful things for him to understand his mind. The mind this writer has is just as troubled as the soul it describes. The intellect and soul have to work together with any anonymous beings to afford a better quality life. I have been scrambling to find out the nature of his soul but to know my mind is what is entirely embarrassing to not have been as strong as the soul who endures so much now it is the mind of mine that is suffering. It seems I have some regrets for the innocents my mind possesses. I was to slow to get the big picture when I should of known I would be secluded in this house and worse in this bed for all the signs were there. I might of made it past one winter here but I thought the art interest would sustain me but it can’t. I should have had a stash of weed for these low occasions I could have tried to have had that available but lost contact with any weed dealers making for this to be some real hard time. I have let down my life by not understanding the way of the world and my true nature. I have been physically active plenty over the years and emotional and spiritually, but my mental and social skills have been slow to work for my happiness. I’m not sure that I’m supposed to have all of life figured out but smarts is all about taking advantage of what you have. Living this way has been horrible. What am I going to do about it? I can tell you his nature was he was a pothead. Does he need to reinvent himself or is that his mental and social solution. The pros are there but it’s illegal and that is the main source of the paranoia. Drinking and smoking weed have made him happy and that is where he left off before this whole mental illness thing that mainly stems from coming from a poor family. It comes down to work and play and mostly I have been doing jail time so that’s neither. He is fine. I need to get my life balanced between work and play so now it is I and now it is we intellect and soul.

 

Chapter 11

The anxiousness before a move is starting to present itself. Seven days tell he can move a bed into a new apartment. Sort out all his belongings and start into his way of budgeting money. He goes around the house for hours marching around saying all the things he’ll need to do. Organizing his things and chain smoking cigarettes. Thinking he should leave most traces of his time there behind him. Leaving some artwork mostly as he cannot move most of the projects he has. As he goes out to smoke so frequently there is a couple crows that have been doing calls for the past couple days like his friends maybe communicating good bye. Making time for his friend he is got to get that over with for his wedding then look for some part time work. He might be only be prepared to sleep at his apartment with a bed but plans to pack some clothes and pots and pans and dishes and silverware. My intellect is going crazy with anxiousness to get moved out and things put in place. All that smoking has given me a nicotine buzz. It is late afternoon I did the best I could to calm down and get into resting mode. All this energy has been lying dormant and I’ve been doing my best it seems to suppress it. The mind is hard to find peace and I wonder what that actually is. I am so happy my plans are starting to take shape that seems to be my biggest concern,  but to be wise and calm and bide my time like this has taken a great lot of patience. We have to make things work, my intellect and soul that we take care of this life of ours. Everything that seems to be in a state of blah can be transcended in some sort of fashion. It seems like waiting for a vacation like everyone else that is what spring break taught me in high school my favorite experience I’ve had. It was a lot of planning and preparation then an enjoyable adventure that was earned from the work of being a senior in high school when my friend and I road tripped to Florida for a week. Having a partner to plan things with and organize is very important. Some of the shit we got away with back then was amazing and with all the puking aside I don’t regret it. Both my friend and I had made it to our reserved campsite at St. Joseph Park on the bay side of Florida. We decided to smoke some of our weed we brought and had bought I think for sixty-five dollars, some of the best weed I’ve ever had. We smoked the whole blunt and ran a bunch around on the beach and talked to a tree and were having a blast. wwe ate a hamburger potato carrot and onion tinfoil dinner and before night fall I was puking in the woods and only on rare occasions have I ever got sick from just smoking weed and this was one of those times and I had to be dragged back into the van to sleep that night. On another note he got his first kiss with a girl at a dance club. She initiated it and had beer on her breath but she was attractive and it just felt weird but he had a good time. Yes it like being old thinking about the past and how it had some good in it. As for her she was into partying as well. She played softball and would drink and smoke weed in high school and that would lead her to promiscuous behavior. She felt that it was some of being young and dumb getting into those situations. She would admit she has binged drank and thought that at times it could be a problem. It was after high school she became committed to her boyfriend and eventually wanted to go to school in California she didn’t stay there long but had a lot of fun with the women’s soft ball team. After college she got in a rut somehow with some sort of lifestyle concerns. She became impressionable about certain celebrities and expressing herself. She believed in hidden messages that existed in music, movies, and TV. So she had the energy build up and all it takes is being around people to notice and her parents started to intervene and the fight was never taken out of her like it was in some way for him. I mean a fight to get through the crap. I have to do it too. Just the Cyber Empire that is the Internet to redeem time spent, but only for the socially inept one to get a shot. Is that the modern age of having an identity posting pictures and videos. For the longest time he had not thought much of Internet relativity mostly just used for some none promotional use. This was the days before the smart phone and the most popular thing among his peer group was gaining a friend count on Facebook but that is so stupid and he never felt at ease about the fakeness of it, but the way of the world is to advertise of promote one’s self. Gaining views or likes and having followers is complete rubbish but it is what’s available for people to do. It is almost like an art trying to cater to what people want to see in others by doing it yourself setting the example. Set the stage and take the tickets so to speak. It all cost so much but it’s free at the same time. A lot of people get to decide what reality is and that is what they choose to see and use the Internet as. It is a Cyber Empire and a platform for people to spray their message or narcissism or how else can one think their better then everybody else. Mostly a computer is meant to communicate information, but what can a human need to communicate using the Internet that they can’t do in person or on the phone? It makes us all look at screens to try to feel somehow accepted and liked. It’s as if reality exists mostly on the screens and talking lovingly in person is the illusion. Why is it necessary to whore ones self on the Internet. It must be the preferred way of information sharing today. I can’t actually meet a girl in real life but I can if I’m lucky communicate to one for online messaging. What is there to say and what is the point I share music and art images and sometimes rants about my personal opinions.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 12

I’m afraid some nights evil surrounds him, and he has that restless feeling that his body’s nervous system goes crazy. The best he can do to calm down is to lie on his belly and try not to squirm. It almost like there is some chanting or mumbling of a voice in the night inaudible but at short times very real. All this because he use to drink gin and get drunk then would communicate with the fairy world. He could live at home back then when he would buy Hendricks gin with pistachios and go about his leisure. This is the only alcoholic drink he got close to blacking out on. Some times he would drink too much lay in bed drunk then puke to the side of the bed. His history with alcohol has been troubling as he sometimes drinks to oblivion and seems to try to destroy himself. Beer mostly has became his drink of choice and he had found some wine he use to like to drink a lot but the spiritual side of it makes him clumsy and a fool. He feels good at his own place when there’s a pack of beer in the fridge and a bottle of wine handy with a kitchen stocked with food. He has made fifteen months with out drinking as probably some of the longest time since he was of age. He wants to prove he has a life to certain women he now has the privilege to communicate with. He is not use to having friends for quite a long time now and does not know why he has solitude so much. It is the times of solitude that he can grow in his thinking then show others that he is evolving himself. He had done a lot of little things in life so far and needs to understand that he has to remove himself from bad situations and that for him is clearly his mother and his brother. Life becomes finding people who are either with him or not in such barbaric terms. He can’t let dangerous people set him off. They will worsen his life. He was drunk around his mother and brother too much.