All of you. All your fear. I lie, inasmuch as I don’t know the truth. Inasmuch as everything I say is some dialogue of script I’ve written moments before, seconds before, split microframes of life before speaking it. And I mean it. At the time. But it all fades. Truth is ephemeral. It’s a whisper misheard and repeated with mutations and twisted with prerogatives and turned into hateful resentment. I’m drinking now, and I’m posting publicly. Now, I know this...
I feel that this has given me the most incredible and wonderful thing that I have ever been given, and also, the worst. […] I’ve had my whole soul undermined by it — on the one hand. On the other hand, in one sense, my experience has been about finding joy. It was Memorial Day weekend. The day before, maybe. End of May. Sunday? She was taking the kids to visit with her parents in Rochester. As they went outside...
No new MAOI dosage, no more late-night milk-spilling slapstick, and no better feelings. To be fair to the meds, the past month has been a stressful one. The wife thinks I have Asperger Syndrome. (Henceforth “AS” for brevity and to avoid the “ass-burger” images.) It fits my career, lifestyle, and personality, and I’ve suspected it myself. Unfortunately, if it’s AS and not “just” depression and anxiety, the behavior that causes us so much domestic strife is not so much a...
I refilled my Provigil and Clonazepam (AKA Klonopin) scripts today over lunch. After a trip to Subway, pulling into the office lot, shutting off the car, I shook two Provigil tablets into my hand and went inside, then slugged them down with a shot of Pepsi Max. I felt better that afternoon than I have in a long while. My boss (the bestest one on Earth) had been looking for me in the interim, and when I asked, he had...
Every night I come home with the faint and irrational hope that something will be different, better, changed, fixed. Where did I go so goddamned wrong? How did it get to this point? This isn’t worthy of an entry. I’m just talking to myself. The blog has been delinked from my fazigu.org homepage. Only visitors to tijuanabibles.org seemed to have found their way here. I talked to her about the situation tonight. I don’t know why. I know all there...
Last Friday, like every Friday, we ate out. Summer hours are over at work, so I got home something after 5PM. I ordered pizza within a half-hour or so after arriving. We ate at about 6:30. Apparently, that is too late. I’ll spare you the details, but it was too late, and I fucked up by waiting instead of ordering ahead. So, this week, I tried my damndest to get the dinner on time. But, lo! I had forgotten I...
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