Today was one of those days that I got home and I could barely bear to bend over and untie my shoes. I was just hoping it would get better from there. It has. Another pint of Jenni's Brambleberry Crisp and now listening to Nujabes and writing down words. How did I end up as a pizza maker? It's really kind of bizarre. I made some great pizzas today and I made some not so great pizzas today. Sometimes it feels like I am fighting the dough a little bit and the ingredients. I looked to my co-workers who are much better than me. I shouldn't compare myself to them but I yearn to learn from them. I am at a somewhat weird part of my pizza progression. On the other hand, I don't necessarily feel that I am wasting my time making pizzas but I can't help but feel like there is a higher calling for me. Doesn't everyone feel like there is a higher calling for them...?
I don't need to kill myself either. I find it absurd that people throw around the advice to kill oneself on the internet. The time may come when it is time to kill myself but it's not now. I actually think I am on the cusp of having a not so bad life which could continue to grow. What am I missing? This social anxiety piece is really big. I think I have had it since middle school. I think it's why I was drawn to video games and poker. I think it's why I did so many substances at least in part. But, it's been stronger here than in the past. I let my hand tremor get to me. Although it is a weird thing to have a hand tremor (Lithium and Abilify).
What are your guys thoughts on some great tv shows?
Stroggoz reminded me of Rome in the GoT thread which I absolutely love. I pointed out that Deadwood is another show like that. My brother told me to watch some show called Marvelous Ms. Maisie or something like that he said it's better than GoT or he told me to watch One Punch Man. I was watching Handmaid's Tale but man some episodes are so bleak for the full 50+ min. I am trying to unwind and maybe laugh or get enthralled.
"Unfathomable loneliness and sadness crept through him: he saw his life down the solemn vista of a forest aisle, and he knew he would always be the sad one: caged in that little round of skull, imprisoned in that beating and most secret heart, his life must always walk down lonely passages. Lost. He understood that men were forever strangers to one another, that no one ever comes really to know anyone, that imprisoned in the dark womb of our mother, we come to life without having seen her face, that we are given to her arms a stranger, and that, caught in that insoluble prison of being, we escape it never, no matter what arms may clasp us, what mouth may kiss us, what heart may warm us. Never, never, never, never, never.?"
In psychotherapy this is one of the most fundamental questions. What are someone's true wishes in this world? Then it is the individual's responsibility to act on these wishes. That's why it is important to be accurate with one's wishes. We are free to choose (to some extent). We are the sum of our actions.
What do I want?
I figure I would do this as an experiment and an exercise. I am just all in my head before a psychotherapy appointment and rather than sit here and do nothing I'll maybe get some of this stuff out of my head and it will be worthwhile.
There are a lot of interrelated things in my life. A big one is always the job. I don't hate it. I get a good feeling sometimes. It's not a bad place to be BUT it's not going to get me out of my parent's house. I do not wish to work more hours or scale up in the capitalist world. It's like I am almost forced to find something in the public or non-profit sector. Living at home effects dating (so does making more money). I would like to date but it's almost like the state of my life dating is more annoyance than fun. I would like to go out and have more fun. Spend time with people. I wish to get better at painting and the electric guitar. I think these are all pretty doable things. But, it really goes back to that work piece. I have no desire whatsoever to climb higher in capitalism but I am currently a bit fucked in regards to finances... Fucked is a strong word. I eek it out like I have said on here before. I will stay at my parent's place and perhaps continue to be incel. It feels like I have to go back to school for something or maybe more importantly work for someone that ends in .org. There are no ultimate rescuers here. This is all on me. I have to figure this out but I hope I get help and inspiration along the way.
I have the freedom to buy an electric guitar. Guess what? I just bought an electric guitar and sick headphones. Am I responsible for that choice?
The book I am currently reading ("Existential Psychotherapy") makes the argument that we are responsible for our life predicament and we are responsible for changing. We must be if we want to see any semblance of growth.
Sartre says we are a sum of our actions. Which is true but what is the originator of our actions?
Yalom says that if we are structural determinists we need activists not therapists and nothing can change on a personal level until the structures are changed. Therapy or really any form of individual improvement is hopeless.
I suppose I believe in or I want to believe in that we truly have this freedom. I am not convinced we do. I almost want to convince myself that we do because I think it would be better for me. I think most "successful" people or let's define it as people with financial freedom that are earning that financial freedom through something they more or less like to do from my experiences across the board strongly believe in this principle of responsibility. I want to use the example of Kanye West believing so strongly in responsibility that he believes that slavery was a choice. I mean technically it was. The slaves could attempt to run away or kill themselves. That is like radical responsibility. It completely disregards the structures in place. But, I think about the prospects of a slave making it to a safe place in the North and myself making it to a safe place in France. Which is kind of an absurd comparison. I am in a safe place now yet I feel like a slave. Not in the sense of enslaved Africans in the 1700-1800s. That is not a fair comparison but I do feel like a slave to Capitalism and many of the current structures in place. That mixed with my upbringing and so many facets of my life have shaped who I am. I don't know if it is fair to say that I have 100% responsibility in my life predicament and responsibility to grow personally. I don't know enough about neuroscience and actually I don't think anyone does to truly answer these questions. Maybe they do and I am just ignorant. But, I think another aspect of this is that it is perhaps better to believe we have 100% responsibility. So, why not just believe it? Well, there are things I can't un-see. There is certainly determinism in this dimension but I truly believe we have some aspects of freedom as well. How much? I don't know. But, I continue to go to therapy and I do see undeniable improvement in certain areas. I just want to believe that my actions have gotten me here and it is my actions that will get me out. That almost seems too positive but again positivity seems like a trait of people that have better quality of lives. But, there is a strong activist aspect of me as well but I don't think I can give that area my all until I work on some personal things with a therapist. I suppose it's not hypocritical to be compatibilist. Most active philosophers today believe in compatibilism. It's just crazy that our thoughts and our "Interpreter" (part of the brain that interprets the world around us) are so unreliable. We are on some crazy runaway train on speculative tracks and trails. There is so much we don't know about the brain, consciousness, existence. We exist, we are conscious, we think and we don't know much about why or how. Well, thoughts is getting more understood but the other two who the fuck knows.
I want to read Hofstadter's chef d'oeuvre. So, I just bought it and then see if I have the motivation to read it when it comes.
MOTIVATION
What is the basis for motivation?????????????? INSPIRATION?????????????????
That is the million dollar question that I also feel is mostly determined yet has some aspects of freedom.
I had a dream last night and it gave me an idea for a painting. I currently have 3 paintings in process but the thing about oil paints is that one has to let them dry in specific parts before proceeding and I usually put the paint on pretty thick so it takes a week+ for certain areas to dry. Part of the dream was Kanye West collaborated with an unknown but very talented painter and it was like an African-scape at night with very vivid stars and a jaguar sitting with very vivid eyes. I am not good enough to paint that but I might try. They asked me to collaborate on it but it was so good that I couldn't find an area that I wanted to put some brush strokes. Then my instinct was to graffiti it but I liked it too much. I didn't want to sully it. It was such a pure painting. I wish I could re-create it. What I am attempting to re-create is another dream or the same dream in which I was visited by a ghost-like, alien-like, spirit-like entity. It is ambiguous exactly what it was. If anything it was like my version of a neo-Spectre. It was a pinkish magenta with eyes like fire that changed in intensity. I just had the thought that it could be me or some aspect of me or it could be my Spectre or a ghost or an alien or (a) God or who knows?
I would still be painting but I ran out of turpentine. Nothing kills creativity like having to go out to the store and consume. Like blogging in the fashion that I do is some form of adequate substitute for creative expression...
I love that gif but I don't want to wear it out.
I think Pyramids by Frank Ocean (and John Mayer) is a good example of expression. I wish I could write songs and sing like Frank Ocean. I wish I could play the guitar like John Mayer. I am probably closest to writing songs well but I don't really have the melodies or the vision in my head it's more so just poetry and I don't particularly have the penchant for poetry. I write it in spurts usually when manic. I will never have a great voice. I will never play the guitar like John Mayer. I think I could get pretty decent at the guitar except for a lack of talent and lack of wanting to do so (in reality). I have done some music production. It is fun but then I will never create a Waters of Nazareth by Justice on Garage Band so that makes me feel like shit. I don't even know why that is the case. It's not entirely the case. I made a few songs and at least one good song on my sister's computer who used to be a musician with a small studio. It made for a great afternoon. I would not have rather been any where else on the planet at that time. It was an end-in-itself. It is only afterwards, later on, that I compare and contrast. Ugly business comparing and contrasting can be.
I think one of the reasons I like Pyramids is that it reminds me of a one night stand that was particularly memorable. If I could just have that beauty, that spontaneity, that sensualness, that joy in my life. I think I have a piece of that when I paint. I also have a piece of peace. One of my favorite things about a one night stand is when after she leaves and her scent lingers on the pillow and sheets. But, I think my favorite might be that initial eye contact, the initial flirtations, the initial kiss, a wet vagina, the initial penetration, and then obviously everything leading to the tiny death of orgasm. The afterglow. It just all seems like a small reprieve from the human predicament.
Right now, it feels like "Oh God, what am I going to do for about 12-13 hours before I can get some sleep." That is pretty awful.... I better go get some turpentine...... I am not living as if I am going to die or maybe I am. I don't know. Fuck it. I am going to get some turpentine and I am going to shower and brush my teeth in case the person who works there is an attractive woman.
I've realized only recently that posting on here is a form of acting out for me. I am a bit lost on the interwebz these days. It just seems like there isn't much for me here anymore. I would post in a private journal which I do but it feels like a lot of the issues are relatable to some % of people that might read this.
I'm listening to Club Soda by Thomas Bangalter. I like music. I like stories. I have gotten back into Cinema. I have watched some good ones but It feels like that high is dwindling. I only wanted to watch Salo or Gaspar Noe's new one Climax. I have somewhat fucked up tastes I know. It is tough to say which I like more: Film or Literature. It is tough to match a 1,000 page masterpiece like Anna Karenina or Infinite Jest. But, a story like Inception or Irreversible backed by a Hans Zimmer or Thomas Bangalter soundtrack it may be close. Really, different experiences.
How many of you have therapist experiences? I was going to put up a poll but now I don't feel like it. I would be more interested to see comments in the comment section. What are your experiences with therapists? Did they give you hope? Did you experience positive change? I am reading a book by Irvin Yalom and he mentions that being the purpose of the therapist: to offer hope and to perhaps ignite change. I would have to say in the past most of my therapists have inspired hope or ignited change in some form or another. But, life is strange. At one point a suggestion to go to Refuge Recovery almost seemed life changing (and perhaps it was) where as now that suggestion would be like an ant sneezing. I will say I had one therapist that just didn't seem to understand me at all. She was still helpful but compared to my current therapist she was kind shit. My current therapist is just like a weirdo psychiatry/psychotherapy nerd but it works.
I don't think it would be one of my blogs if I didn't talk about my beard or my hair or whatever. I just trimmed my beard. I was going to grow it out but it just doesn't feel right. I am growing out my hair but we will see where that goes. I can't unsee this. Jared Leto's hair and beard combo is pretty perfect. Sometimes I feel like if I can achieve that my life would be better than it currently is. Pretty silly I know but there is some truth to that though too. Fuck, what am I talking about? I feel better having trimmed my beard. Certainly, I would feel better with a smart haircut. Just something to get by that looks complementary to my face shape and I don't have to fuss over it too much. Nothing too much. I hang out with broke people. I already feel silly wearing my $800 Zegna Sport jacket even if the weather calls for it (wind/rain).
Everyone is trying so hard to get ahead. Most of us want to fuck the swollen pussy of the hot bitch in heat. It seems like there are so many rules and stipulations for that among the human race. Jordan Peterson says something like the males choose the "appointed" male and that male gets all the swollen vaginas. Or, the vaginas get swollen in response to him. From my observations it is tough to say that is a completely inaccurate commentary. So, we are all scrambling around for that. Is this the way it is because of capitalism? Was all of this inevitable? Well, yes, I suppose it was inevitable. Is another system possible? We do have frontal lobes. While we may be similar to chimps or even dogs we are not chimps or dogs. I refuse to play the capitalist game. I do what I must to eat food and then plot in the darkness on how to overcome such a shitty position. Are these just the ramblings of a resentful InCel? To be honest, I am not even faring that well at my current job which is like a "noob" job. I mean most of the people that I work with we are fuck ups in some form or another. The work can be actually very stressful and we are getting paid nothing. Barely, a living wage. Baaarrreeellly. I mean people talk about $15/hr as a living wage. I guess I am not at 40 hours but I also live with my parents and don't have full normie expenses. The thing is I don't really have any idea how I would scale up. I don't want to scale up. I am just stuck. I am a stagnant, scared animal. I come home from work, eat a bunch of junk food, watch a movie, and hope I sleep. I am on like 6 medications, maybe more. Much of the time I just don't see a way out. My only solace is the beauty in the world. But, that seems to only get me so far.
I'm growing quite tired. I think what I need is another near death experience. I live quite well after near death experiences.
Not that anyone realized I was gone. I just want to write out some experiences.
Health Insurance:
So, I recently found out that my health insurance doesn't cover any of my "Behavioral Health" costs at my current hospital. But, my PCP is still covered under their "Medical Care." So, the woman basically said "Your doctors will not agree with our agreement so fuck them (and fuck you)." Now, I either have to pay an exorbitant amount of money for the care I am currently receiving or switch to some LLC Pysch + Therapy combo. It's not all on the health insurance though. I re-examined the bills I was getting and they were horseshit. Double billing me. One of the charges was $440 for 1 hour but they billed me 1 hour of psychotherapy at $180 and 1 hour of psychiatry at $260. The doctor verified my meds and then we had a therapy session. It's all bullshit. Now, I have to get things straightened out with the doctors and the billing and I have to get things straightened out with my employer and their health insurance and I am going to have to make some wagers. I guess all parties have to negotiate or someone is going to get taken advantage of. It just feels like the person getting taken advantage of is me. In situations like this I want to strike out against everyone. I want to quit my Doctors, I want to quit my job, I want to quit capitalistic society. That is looking pretty bleak. Capitalism is the root cause of all my problems. I have been reading the Tao Te Ching by Lao Tzu. I wish to discuss it further which means I don't have the Tao. I don't understand how I can be content with my lot in life. It's like capitalism causes sickness. Capitalism takes advantage of sickness. It's an absolute monster.
Taxes:
I have heard people feel patriotic when doing taxes. Fuck that! Mine aren't all that difficult except for TurboTax's shitty health insurance software. I had to re-do that 3 times. Fuck Countries! Fuck Parties! ni aux patries ni aux parties. It's all coercion. The shit system that we are supporting is depressing. Will nothing happen due to our depressed resignation???
That might be one of the most important questions to ask.
I made more than I made last year but my medical bills mixed with my increased cost of medical insurance I may or may not be doing better. I may be better off getting a job that doesn't offer insurance so I can get back on Obamacare. One rule about Obamacare is that if your employer offers insurance you HAVE to take it. Meaning I went from good Obamacare insurance to really shitty Mr. Jeff Bezos insurance. "Behavioral Health." Get the fuck out of here. Capitalism caused my bipolar and my alcoholism and still does. It's a miracle I don't still drink or do drugs. Donald Trump is anti-Tao. I don't really want to go after anybody I just want to go after something... Capitalism. I'm in the jungles right now. I'm still learning. I always seem to be still learning.
Ugh, too much to talk about.
I will go read "Capitalist Realism" by Mark Fisher and then take a walk in Nature.
Everyone is asking me, "Do you feel better?" .................................................
Of course I don't feel better. I hate being Bi-polar, it's awesome!
I had less than 3 hours of sleep for 6 days and I had never felt better. There is a nagging tiredness or a nagging restlessness that can emerge but then I have just learned to escalate the stimulation and see where that goes. There were 2 hour car karaoke sessions. I lost my voice. A 2 hour interpretive dance session that was like the most fun I've had since drinking 4 Red Bull + Vodka and popping molly at a killer rave. I started creating art again. I love that zone. I cleaned my golf clubs. I fixed my lacrosse stick. I put on the greatest display of pizza prowess in my life on the busiest day of the week. On every pizza I attempted to throw it as close to the ceiling as I could with out touching it. My mom said that was stupid. (She was giving me a ride home because I was in no shape to drive unless it was in a rally race for my life). I told her I am practicing to THROW THE PIZZA THROUGH THE CEILING!!!
This was motivation:
This was me. I identified with this. Except I was performing my forms of art and they were mostly ephemeral. I remember getting an omelette and french fries at a really nice French restaurant downtown. I sketched a bunch of pro-Gilet jaunes art on the table cloth with the french fry as the stylus and the ketchup as the paint. The table cloth was disposable paper. I am not that much of an asshole.
Then there is the comedown. Like "NOOOOOOOOO, This can't be happening!!! I don't wanna leave yet!!!" Like when I was a kid playing with the train station at the library. You know what my mom bribed me with? McDonald's Cheeseburger Happy Meal. That's fucked up. And, people are asking me if I feel better. "Relative to what?" "No, being manic is awesome"
The thing is this manic episode was pretty awesome overall. I didn't go down to the 7th level of Hell. I didn't experience infinite. I wasn't casted out to some other multiverse alone in a space shuttle with no way of getting back to Earth or at least somewhere inhabitable with something at least somewhat humanoid. There have been racing thoughts coming in so fast that the only way to deal with that was hellish primal screaming. Then they would hit me with a bunch of shots and drugs. Who knows how much time had past. I was carrying a virus that would end humanity. U.S.A. and Chinese hackers were in a constant battle in my brain. I thought the showers were gas chambers. I thought the shampoo was poison. I had to solve the code or else the world would end. To my mind I was in a torture and death camp.
Contrast this to my last episode and maybe I am just feeling a little tired at times or a bit out of touch with reality. The thing about that is that if I just embrace the loss of reality everything will be ok. I've been through this before. I know Spotify is not really trying to communicate with me and if they are cool they just did anyway.
But, now I am back in the drudgery of life. Who the fuck wouldn't want to be euphoric for a week or two? The hangover was not nearly as bad as some of my drug hangovers in the past. When I am manic I am a guy that creates concerts in the forests of Vexin, FR and all the marketing/design/etc. and makes all the women smile and laugh (not all... there are certainly some missteps with being very honest and manic but in my mind they all smiled and laughed). Now, I'm just some schlub with a bit of a belly because I eat too much, living in my parents' spare room, typically, occasionally writing about politics on a dwindling poker website. Nice identity. It is like I enjoyed my recent episode so much I just strive to go back there. Fuck Rojava. Fuck Food Not Bombs. Fuck Local Farms. Bring me THE ENTERTAINMENT, THE SIMULATION, SASHA GREY VIRTUAL REALITY. Speaking on the ladder my sexual desire was fucking ridiculous but it didn't bring me suffering. I literally thought I was in love with Mexie which I am in love with Mexie but not romantically, yet. She was the muse of this most recent outburst of productivity but I don't really like the word productivity when detailing art, philosophy, history, geography, political science, psychology, sociology, anthropology, biology, complex sciences, ecology, et al.
It seems like in these manic episodes if I can grasp on to some form of Beauty it fuels my experience. I need it like those people in the Inception needed their items. In a past manic episode I thought I was in love with another women with her name starting with the letter M and the thing is I really was in love with her but I was in love with the idea of her. Another time it was Rihanna. Another time it was Kate Upton. Another time it was a woman let's call her K. She looked like a Queen from Africa. She was a Doctor. K was for Kharisma. Great smile, funny, smart. I used to call her Queen Bee. It's like as long as they are guiding me I am not going to lose my way. This could be a dangerous way of thinking and M even told me so when we were waiting in the Psych Ward waiting room. But, then the mania kind of takes over and I am in love with this women, and I am in love with this women and I am in love with this women just for having sexy, engaging eyes and a great smile.
So, I have sort of lost my way at this point. It feels like I had some breakthroughs over the last 2 weeks of mania or so but I really could have just been some crazed cat in some shiny ball chasing Odyssey.
Oh well, I am kind of excited. During my mania I was pouring through some of my cookbooks (La Cucina The Regional Cooking Of Italy) and found some recipes that could have the magic.
Booyakasha - used to express triumph, normally if trying to appear "gangsta" ...
So, I remember listening to a lot of Caribou's new album at the time and Little Dragon when I was placed in an office for rehab at the L.M.N.C. (Large Multi-National Corporation) that I sold my labor to in return for a (slave) wage. They gave me an absent corner office of one of the Top Dawgs that had cancer and was going to die. It was nice but I felt uncomfortable. My job was to audit every facet of the plant and write safety reports for 8 hours a day. I eventually let an IT guy use the office who resented me for being my father's son. I found an unused desk in a somewhat decrepit section of the cubicle area surrounded by cold concrete, a stack of forgotten chairs and a paper shredder that people would constantly use and interrupt me. I don't know which was worse. Eventually, after days and days and days of scraping the ice off of my car and going in to this dismal situation I realized this wasn't for me. None of it. Don't get me wrong, I continued to show up so they would continue to pay me my Long-Term Disability but I would vomit a little bit every time we received a new message from our handsome but decidedly undead C.E.O. The messages so obvious and banal to inspire us so he could make $20 million bonuses.
This is the part of the blog where I was going to brag about making prophetic predictions at a dinner with upper management that asked my opinions of the state of things out East at the time that would have saved the company $20+ million dollars (not necessarily expected value but how it actually turned out). Oh, I just did brag about making prophetic predictions at a dinner with upper management that asked my opinions of the state of things out East at the time that would have saved the company $20+ million dollars (not necessarily expected value but how it actually turned out).
It was on my mind because I suggested they stop selling product to a large integrated steel mill on the East coast of the U.S.A. that to this particular emotionally detached observer was doomed and forever doomed. They continued doing business with them until the mill shut down permanently and the L.M.N.C. I worked for ended up getting burned for $15 million in unpaid consignment. It was a terribly sad story. It bankrupted all the local businesses and a lot of people were out of work in an already depressed part of the country.
It comes to mind because that mill in East Coast, U.S.A. was 1 large blast furnace and 1 large caster. Techint in Venezuela was 6 casters which means it was likely 1 or 2 large blast furnaces and a handful of electric arc furnaces or 1 or 2 large electric arc furnaces. Chavez burned the L.M.N.C. I worked for for a likely $50+ million in unpaid consignment. That is just one company not to mention the effect it would have on local economy. In the world I live in if someone welches on bets to the wrong people they start sending large, trained men to start breaking fingers and escalate the violence as deemed necessary. Now, we can discuss whether that is right or wrong but the fact is that it is effective. Maybe it was my upbringing in poker and life that welching on bets is not acceptable. I think there was a crazy ambulance/ER bill when I was mentally ill that I never paid due to being broke and I told a predatory gym to get fucked. I think that is the grey area. What is predatory and what is not? Many people will look to exploit as much as they can get away with. Maybe every human being to an extent.
What is my point? I am not sure. I am just thinking. The U.S.A. and the wealthy elite are similar to bookies and gangsters who have access to large men well versed in violence. They also have access to clever demons well versed in "Public Relations" and Manufacturing Consent. So, if someone isn't behaving how they want them to behave they discreetly break some fingers and see what happens. It may turn into a meeting with a baseball bat. Eventually they drop the Atomic Bomb but not literally an Atomic Bomb because that is mutually assured destruction these days. They are much more devious.
I went to the Dentist yesterday. It always weirds me out because everyone in there is a tall, blonde, beautiful woman. I get along with the hygienist and she does a good job so I keep going but it's just weird. The Queen Bee Blondie Dentist comes in at the end and expects me to be more excited about my teeth being clean. She probably won a Miss America pageant at some point in her life and has a smile so perfect it is difficult to look at similarly to the sun. Her and her husband who is a Medical Doctor and her male clone came to the pizza shop once and were rather difficult and demanding. Then in the appointment she just wanted to talk about craft beer and her children and I was just like you got the wrong guy. As if I could just find some new, interesting craft beers and have a couple after work to relax and receive transcendental love from my angelic children and everything would be ok. The American Dream. I shouldn't judge though. I don't truly know her and it's not her fault.
So, where does this leave me? I was reflecting back on those days with the L.M.N.C. I am so happy to be out of that situation. But, I am still a wage slave chained to one of the richest and most powerful Masters on the Planet Earth. I still need to eat food, maintain my Automobile including consistently feeding it Petrol Gasoline, dole out money to various forms of insurance, and struggle to pay medical bills. There are so many social injustices across the world that it is hard to know where to even begin. I once spent much of a weekend with an AA Elder in the forests of Northern PA camping. He wasn't a caricature AA Elder in that he wasn't a "Big Book Thumper." He would host a weekly reading group of The Perennial Psychology of the Bhagavad Gita. Anyways, when we were saying our goodbyes he got really serious and intense for a moment and looked me dead in the eyes and said, "Rich, if i have one suggestion for you it is this: Shine a light on your corner before attempting to shine a light on the world." He was also a big proponent of not seeking the non-physical in the material world but rather chinking away the icy shell covering of our true "selves" through authenticity, honesty, genuineness and allowing self-esteem to blossom organically.
My therapist said I should in part take on the spirit of an unconditioned child. ¡¡¡L'esprit de l'enfant sauvage!!!
My dad says I should continue going to work and earning a paycheck.
A friend and I went to a massive festival in Argentina and saw LCD Soundsystem. We got so unbelievably high. He would always try and get me Blazard. Blazard is term I coined in college as a mix between blazed and the phenomena of Blazars in the universe (aren't I so clever). Anyways, he would always try and get me blazard and fuck with me. At the concert he started freaking out that the security guards saw us and were coming to get us. I was adamant that this was all bullshit and I am trying to enjoy the concert and we'll be ok. Then I notice that there were security guards looking directly at us and headed our way. My friend threw the lit joint as far as he could as discreetly as possible. They walked right by us examining us and then moved along. It added to the high. The concert was phenomenal.
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