I just had the most wicked dream. I am debating trying to do it justice by writing it out but there is no way. I'll free associate.
I was in the movie theaters with my family. It was a massive movie theatre. Shit started to go weird and everybody started to like clap and move there legs but I did nothing. I was like dissociative. Almost catatonic. Almost like I had sleep paralysis. My sister asked if I was ok. I felt better than ok. I remember having the thought all these stupid ass sheep passively entranced by this entertainment but they are still beautiful though. I went to the restroom. It turned into this chamber of winds. I had no control. The wind took me wherever it wanted. I greeted neutral archetypal characters. Neutral in that they were somewhat scary but had redeeming qualities. There was like a seahorse made out of wood with ivy and sapphire jewelry. I can't remember. Some of them had an archetypal hell'ish aspect to them but did not mean me any harm. There was a long bridge over seemingly nothingness but there were these fir trees that lined the pathway. It was at this point I realized I could do whatever I wanted and started harvesting the fir trees. I fell off the bridge and was led to a party. It turned out to be some sort of giving party. People were proud of me for breaking through. I gave away all of my fir tree harvest. It turns out that it was valued highly and everyone started giving me gifts and love. Then I "woke up" and was with my family. Everyone was happy. Then some random thing flashed like a still life of red and green vegetables mostly bell peppers like a "Fin" type of situation. Then I "woke up" and worried that I was in sleep paralysis. I could move though but I couldn't go back to sleep. It felt like I had been through a mania but stronger. So, I got up. I passed my cat Sebastian who was on death row today. We thought we might have to put him down but turns out he seems to be ok. I kiss him on the head and petted him and we had a nice moment. Then I got on my computer and watched this YouTube video about half way through then decided to write this out.
I just had a dream where all I can remember was my teeth were falling out and looked like corn kernels and I was lost at sea. I passed Justin Timberlake and someone else and I was looking for something but I couldn't find it.
Any psychoanalysts and/or dream interpreters out there?
I want to talk about gardening. It is a treasure. It has been something that is keeping me together through these somewhat aimless times. We only got 5 tomatoes from the tomato plant. The tomato plant developed some sort of fungus. It could just be that it wasn't getting enough sun. We have a wooded backyard so that blocks the early morning sun and the house blocks the sun later in the day. It maybe stupid to try and grow any vegetables in the garden. We have some beans growing that are doing ok. It yielded some beans for dinner tonight and they were the best green beans I've ever had. The thyme is absolutely flourishing, the parsley is doing well, and the basil is also doing well. The bay leaf tree was doing outstanding but we found out that all the water drained to that area and was fucking it up. We had to dig it out and harvest all the surviving bay leaves which was actually quite a lot. So, we are hindered a bit in what we can grow. Ideally, anything that likes half sun and we have to put it where it gets the right amount of water. I'll have to give my sister a call and see how her garden is doing. She went H*A*M* this year planting a shit ton of stuff. But her garden will actually be getting full sun and the water should be more consistent. I would love to move somewhere with a decent plot of land in full sun. I would grow tomatoes, onions, celery, carrots, bell peppers, jalapeño peppers, habanero peppers, perhaps potatoes, sweet potatoes. I don't know I guess it would depend on the climate.
I don't even know if I would want to live out in Wyoming. I know I wouldn't want to be paying rent in Manhattan either even if there is a lot to do. Where I am at now is ok. Even though it won't exist in 100 years. For now it is ok.
I haven't heard this in a while. Anthem for late capitalism via Mark Fisher RIP:
*Burial's dog dies* My mum was just like, ‘make a tune, cheer up, stay up late, make a cup of tea’. And I rang her mobile twenty minutes later and I’d made that ‘Archangel’ tune, and I was like, ‘I’ve made the tune, the tune you told me to make.’
- Burial
"Leave House" by Caribou just came up on my Spotify radio. I wish.
I was thinking about painting something. I decided to gesso another canvas. I am going to paint that seahorse that came to me in my dream the other night. Besides that I don't know what to paint.
I just made some tea and had far too much orange chocolate. It reminds me of the ole' UK. My Aunt B would stock up on orange chocolate because she heard I liked it. They moved to the Lake District which is some of the most beautiful parts of the world I've ever seen. They had a cottage up in the hills. The neighbor had 2 border collies which I fell in love with. It has always been a dream to own some land, some sheep and a border collie.
"Wealth and poverty don't lie in a person's estate, but in their souls." –Antisthenes
To live like Diogenes is the good life for Diogenes. I don't think I have the gumption to live like that. I would rather be Diogenes than some Buddhist monk but it's not in my nature to live like that. I am not that disagreeable. In what way is asking for money not humiliating? And yes, my chances of hitting the bottle go up by quite a lot. Homelessness is a horrible situation and a clear step downwards. I live a pretty simple life now but to be with out my bed, coffee, Macbook Pro, Kindle, etc. would be difficult let alone shelter, food, and water.
Is Diogenes more successful than all of us?
A case could be made for it. It would probably feel pretty good to pee on a lot of posters here. I mean all I was doing and am doing is putting forth my positions. Rating "success" on top-x % of earners is silly. There are virtually no philosophers or psychological research that will support that. People getting butthurt should re-evaluate their lives. Read some philsophy or take the Yale Coursera course on well-being. You were raised on marketing messages and a rotten society. Most of you will never even get to that upper class step. Look around. Be happy. $50k is plenty of money in most parts of the world. $70k is even better. I will say one thing about making money in poker is there is no corporate uniform. You don't have to scale up all your stuff. People will question "success" but true liberation is not caring. I feel silly all of the money I threw away at clubs and strip clubs just to live up to some ideal. I actually think it's wise for a gambler to make sure to signal correctly if they are trying to fit into this fucked up world. I'd rather live in Malta and wear flowery linen shorts, eat linguine and clam, and go on 2 hour walks. For the $50k/yr guy it's not that difficult either. Exercise, have a non-embarrassing car, live in a decent apartment, don't be a dickhead. You may not be attracting models, doctors, whatever but there are plenty of teachers, nurses, marketing bullshitters, whatever. Bourgeois life! Material shit matters in a material life. So, you guys technically aren't wrong. If you want a "successful" middle class life you are going to need middle class stuff and work a middle class job. That seems to be easy for some. But, not for me. I'd rather be the boss or a bum and I don't have the capabilities of being a boss nor would I actually want to be a boss so it's bum life for me. So, I have to find the best bum life for me.
I've got a tan. Only a boss or a bum has a tan. It's not like I even try I am just at the beach everyday going for long contemplative walks. Like, what am I going to do be some middle manager somewhere? HAH. Fucking gross. Well, if I play my cards right in 10 years I'm looking at middle management. Get the fuck out of here. Bunch of puffed up bullshit puffing up the ultimate puffmeister puffington (CEO). La concha de tu madre. It did feel good being a boss in Buenos Aires. Not going to lie. But that was a certain epoch in my 20s that I will never get back. I have to mix the wisdom of Diogenes, Patrul Rinpoche, Jon Jandai, and myself to find the way. The problem with being a professional poker player is you have to play poker a lot of the time. The problem with most jobs is that you have to be at the job for a lot of time. Then there is getting ready in the morning and the commute. The commute home and trying to shake yourself free from the undeadness of it all. There is no rest only recovery for the next portion of work. I am never going to work if I don't have to and the key is finding something useful that one is more or less acclimated to. It's certainly better than drinking bad red wine on a park bench somewhere in the rain. Oh, that drunk would be such a bad drunk. Probably, can never get enough. When I'm drinking I need about 40 units of red wine to get me to that place I want to be. Who's going to buy me 8 bottles of wine? No, that's a large step downward. Bless Diogenes for being Diogenes but RiKD has to be RiKD.
Which I am still more or less aimless. Those dreams I had tell me everything I need to know. I want to give. I need to understand that I am a sum of my actions. I can't change my feelings but I can modify my behaviors. It is really difficult but we can do better. Changing jobs is scary. If I had an inheritance to live off of like Schopenhauer or a small pension to live off of like Nietzsche I would be perfectly happy. If I could have one conversation with Schopenhauer I would ask him why he values asceticism in his writing but then would go out to nice restaurants and concert/theater shows every day. I too value the ascetic life but don't see myself ever actually going through with it. If I lived in Frankfurt and my inheritance would cover it I would certainly eat out for lunch and dinner every day. I don't have an inheritance or a pension though so wage slavery here I come. I am also not Schopenhauer or Nietzsche. I must find my own way.
I never dream about a middle class lifestyle. I don't wish it to be true. Maybe it is some fantasy that I would be a boring accountant driving a 2017 Toyota Corolla. I could express my authenticity with a dulcet 1 bedroom apartment in a nice part of town. Watching the golf on weekends. That sounds horrible. I would rather die painting.
It is difficult to write with the TV on bombarding me with sounds. The TV allows us to forget that we are going to die. The TV passively makes us forget that we are alive.
It's not acceptable to wear 2nd hand clothes if you are in the middle class. How silly. Where people judge the content of a soul by the soul of a shoe. But that is more so a carry down trait of the upper class. Christian Louboutins and Aldo equivalents.
You know where I found people to be quite happy? A little pocket of Northwest Indiana. They were masons making $80-90k/yr but living like the middle class or even the working class. They weren't trying to be Chicago. The problem arises when it's the other way around. Middle class trying to live like the upper class. But, we are programmed to be that way. I think it's one of the only ways to be motivated is you get a taste for the upper class and feel it is a need rather than a want. It's weird to have a 2008 red Honda Civic and be drinking Veuve Clicquot every night.
I don't mind guns really but bullets are expensive. What are we practicing for? Is it really THAT much fun to shoot targets?
I suppose the transcendence in spraying a target beautifully with an AK is just as beautiful as anything else.
Now, I am being reminded that I am an animal and have to urinate. Damn, I am reminded that I am an animal and that I will die. Diogenes used to masturbate in public. When confronted he replied something like "if only I could rub my belly to alleviate hunger." I am not brave enough to be Diogenes. I'm not brave. 2 kids and a swimming pool. I'm not brave (Frank Ocean). What a life. 2 kids and a swimming pool. The water's blue swallow the pill (Frank Ocean). The journey for truth is not an easy one. However, it is the journey that I am on.
I was anxious about going to this online AA meeting last night so I popped a Xanax. That in itself seems contradictory but I am anxious and have panic attacks at AA meetings. I think it could be due to the fact that I feel like an imposter there. Not that I haven't been sober because I have but I don't really agree with the Big Book in a number of rather important ways. I don't have a Higher Power. I don't pray. But the book itself says the only requirement for membership is a desire not to drink which I have a desire not to drink. On this topic I think the politically correct thing to say is that I have alcoholism/addiction and I am in recovery. But I don't really care if someone calls me a drug addict. Recovered alcoholic is a bit flattering but no I don't think that I am recovered. It's in remission but could come back anytime.
If I could just write one beautiful aphorism I would be set for like 15 sec.
Just a song for you all. I really like it. That's what goes on around here. I post music. I write stuff. I might include a lasagna recipe.
I did so little today. Besides taking a walk and eating I basically just lied in bed reading Cioran and napped. It was so perfect in a way. Now, I am writing so I don't kill myself. But as Cioran says a fear of the future is really just a fear of not having a good way to kill yourself. As long as I have a good way of killing myself I shouldn't be afraid of the future. I've got an out. That is comforting. How come we focus so much on death and not birth? The vast infinite nothingness preceding birth is never on anyone's mind. I didn't mind being a flash within a flash of consciousness in utero. I suppose I mind now. Compelled to write these black letters in the white space. So, what's so scary about consciousness turning off? Forever? I enjoy taking naps. What if I just never awoke? Could that be better than all of this?
I wish to be camping. Building a fire. Seeing the stars. Catching a breeze. Someplace away from here. Away from this confinement. Changing the channel to something good.
The first time I listened to this song I was manic as all hell and I couldn't stop crying. Tears just streaming down my face in bliss. God damn I miss hypomania and early mania. Life is full of joy and purpose.
I feel how I feel. Now, I'm listening to Trentemoller. I only listen to Trentemoller when I'm depressed. I took the trash out today though. That felt good.
But anyways, see how we repress death? I was talking about taking a nap I never awake from and then I started chattering about other stuff. I mean if that's what suicide truly can be it's not that big of a deal. That's not a bad deal. Except it's permanent. Feelings are impermanent. Cioran says something like killing yourself is always killing yourself too late. But we live on. Who knows why? I like coffee in the morning. I like sun rays. It could always be better tomorrow. And if it's not I can always kill myself. I am happy with that.
I realize being depressed is mostly just being incredibly selfish and self-centered. I can't help it.
Do I write a suicide note or not? I don't know I'll have to read that book Loco linked. I don't particularly want to make a lot of people sad.
On the bright side, there is no bright side. At least I'm not drinking, yet. At least I'm not smoking, yet. There's Xanax in the cabinet. Take about 4 of those I'd probably be feeling ok. Although I don't really like Xanax. It definitely calms me down and relaxes me and sometimes even brings with it a nice euphoria but I'm not myself. I can't remember anything. Red wine is such a better drug along with good marijuana. But I have to face these depressions head fucking on sober. It's enjoyable to just indulge in it all. Just fucking sit in it for a little while or all day long.
I know I wrote a little while ago if we get distorted by depression or are just living in illusion in euthymia. I think in a way we can see things more clearly in depression. Although I don't think I'm even that depressed right now. I know I have friends there is just no way I am going to reach out and call them. So, I write on here to no one. Would it make more sense to find an appropriate journaling community? Probably.
Now, I'm listening to copious amounts of Moderat. Another go to depression artist. At least I'm not listening to the most depressing NIN songs, yet.
Not much I can do really. Just keep getting out for my walks, talk to my psychiatrist/therapist on Monday, and don't kill myself.
Fucking endure myself. All day. Every day. Fucking horrible man. At least I am growing some jalapeños in an AeroGarden. It will get full sun (artificial light). There is no where here that gets full light it's upsetting. Unless I started throwing stuff out by the mailbox. I'm sure those fuckers down at the Homeowner's Association would appreciate that. Fuckers.
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PoorUser United States. Jul 12 2020 15:21. Posts 7471
you're not writing to no one on here. i wonder if there are good journaling communities too. i looked for something similar a while back but found finding a good community was pretty hard.
i was home at my parents house this week. my dad grows cucumbers, tomatoes and rhubarb. it seemed pretty nice. i think it's a hobby i'll pick up too. their house is close to northampton, i always meant to ask - you've been out there a few times right? what brought you out there?
Awwww, yes. The house is sparse and quiet. It is impossible to write with distractions. I think this is my time. When everyone is sleeping but me.
I have no plans. This existence torments me. The only comfort is Cioran and naps and "blackening" the white space (Cioran). I have found myself listening to Moderat once again. I don't think that I am that depressed though. It's more of an existential crisis of the highest level. Is it DER ANGST oder DIE ANGST? Ich denke DER ANGST aber ich weisse nicht. DER ANGST! What did I do when I was a little kid? I don't know. I didn't really have angst as a child. In high school I would take vicodin, drink vodka and watch Puroreso. Anyways, today I listen to minimal German electronic music and write stuff.
Man, to go back to that first time I mixed vicodin and vodka and passed out watching Puroreso. Magic city. But, it's impossible. Drinking and drugs at this point only lead to the utmost of misery.
Tomorrow should be interesting. I have my first appointment with a new Doctor/therapist. I need it. I don't know whether to open with my suicidal ideations, my paralysis irt work, I suppose those are the two most pressing issues.
I don't even want hope. I don't know what I want. Cioran calls pregnant women "corpse bearers" ROFL. I won't tell my sister that one. I don't know what I want. I don't know what I expect. There are times when life is a little more breezey. The torment never ends. It's just more. Sometimes it feels that I am unfit to be a human being. Someone should just bring me around the back and put a bullet in my head because I am too much of a coward to do it myself. Although stealing some of my dad's fine red and having one last bottle before taking handfuls of Xanax pills sounds like a decent way to go. One of my true loves in this life red wine. Spend my last night with her. Before I lose consciousness for the last time.
Rid me of this existence. Of this torment.
How do you all do it? How do you all manage? Manage it all?
Wage slave away for your slave wages. Hope you found something good.
I want to get out of this but I don't want to get out of this. I just want to be a miserable, selfish piece of shit.
There is nothing to be observed in this fucking house. It's the same God Damned house since before Covid-19.
I accept my feelings. If someone tells me to buck up I will snatch their soul and defecate on it. That's what this all is isn't it? Enhancing our "soul." I don't believe in a soul. Do I believe in an "essence"? I believe I am well liked in my family and small circles of friends. I have a certain essence that can be smelled from a close distance. Some times two smells are complimentary. Like bergamot and citrus. Sometimes they are not complimentary. "Modern Man in Search of a Soul" by Carl G. Jung. There is no fucking soul. There is a light in the eyes. My eye light tints are all fucked up. I don't even notice roses. I paid no attention to a gorgeous sunset tonight. My heart is bursting at the seams to be passionate about something but there is nothing there. It's just bare existence. Awful bare existence. These songs coming through the headphones are the only thing keeping a pulse going.
Am I just devoid of any spiritual life? I don't even know what spirituality means anymore. Most of the spiritual "masters" are full of shit. You know what's spiritual for me? Growing herbs and vegetables, cooking, making bread. I wish to make my own t-shirts. Actually, I would like to make unisex clothing. I used to want to design these elaborate dresses. That's too much. We should nicks that from existence. Comfortable clothing. Jeans, pants, shirts, henleys, button ups. I don't even have a suit. So, fuck suits and fuck dresses. I have plenty of clothes and they never go out of style.
I suppose it comes down to how can I be useful? I don't know. At least that's where I should start.
I used to have a Patrick Bateman morning routine. It was pretty ridiculous. I'm glad I am at least not there. Although I was hitting the weights pretty hard at the time. Weights and philosophy was enough to sustain me. That was an interesting portion of my life. Would I be depressed if I was deadlifting some heavy ass weight? Maybe not. That was a fun period of my life though. I was just living off of poker savings. I was living like Ronnie Coleman and then using the high and the neurotropic effect of the training sessions to devour Dostoevsky, Kant, Nietzsche, Sartre. I have read a lot of good stuff during this whole Covid thing as well. It might all be for null as I still don't know how to live this life. Cioran talks about knowing how to live life at 20 and then validating it into one's 60s. I disagree with that. I wasn't nearly as knowledgable at 20 as I am today. Although I was just enjoying myself in college. I was never angsty in college. I was surrounded by too many friends and I spent my time pretty well. I remember when I started making money at 200 NL and could throw my weight around in the bars a little bit. It felt powerful. I wasn't ever really that angsty when I was playing poker. I mean there were times that I hated poker and I didn't play poker all that much except for when I did. My life was great at 20.
Where can we locate the "soul"? What is the "soul"?
Can the spiritual life save me? What is the spiritual life?
I will still be a man who was born into existence who is destined to die and has to figure out a way to live the in between. I was born into it you see. I did nothing. I was born and existed unbeknownst to me. Now, I'm 36. I see the reality. It's not looking great. No hope. It's toil, tribulations, and torment here on out.
I had a pretty solid night of sleep, woke up had a small breakfast, a regular bowel movement, finished a book and I feel pretty good. No tellin' how long that feeling will last. There is a lot of day left! How to pass the wretched time?
I remember times when I was busying about wondering where all the time went. A robot trained to extract capital. Now, I am just counting down the minutes until my doctor/therapist appointment. What will I do the next minute... and the next? Starting a new book might be too much. A nap is out of the question. That's all I do these days. Read books and take naps. That is my existence and then when everyone goes to sleep I come on here and chatter. I am like a literate rat. Scampering down at night to get his food and otherwise unseen. Although I am up writing in broad daylight today. The TV isn't going. I feel safe. If the TV is going you will rarely find me downstairs. Just the mere rays of it disintegrate my brain. The sounds distract me from anything meaningful. Yes, you could definitely say I am anti-TV.
"How do you all do it? How do you all manage? Manage it all? "
I work, I play, I read, I watch, I'm occuping my mind.
How do buddhist monks meditating all day don't turn insane? you cannot come to a conclusion during the search for meaning of life
On July 13 2020 20:53 dnagardi wrote:
"How do you all do it? How do you all manage? Manage it all? "
I work, I play, I read, I watch, I'm occuping my mind.
How do buddhist monks meditating all day don't turn insane? you cannot come to a conclusion during the search for meaning of life
You are undead. What I will be marching into shortly. I am glad that you have illusions of occupying your mind. It is all recovery for auto-exploitation.
There is no meaning of life and any search while certainly can be occupying is inevitably false.
So, I had my first session with my new doctor/therapist. It went ok. She told me to stop reading pessimistic philosophy and try something different. Said to contact her if my suicidal ideations get worse. Obviously, a job is good if one needs to get some money coming in. Well, not good but needed. She was being a good therapist and telling me that it will be something to do and not a bad way to socialize with people. It was basically that simple. Only 25 min. I am paying for an hour. I don't know how I feel about that. But I didn't have anything else to talk about.
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So, now it's back to the job search. My long lost love.
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I think I am coming out of this depression thanks to spending a lot of time walking in bright sun and doing things for other people. I am still obsessed with myself hence these blog posts but I feel less obsessed with myself. Willing to offer my soul to get sucked up by capitalism for a small payment in return. That's a bad deal. Is that what actually happens? No, I think I get to keep some semblance of my soul. Maybe. Enough to watch Netflix and overeat crackers and hummus until it's time to fall asleep and do it all over again.
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I walked 6.5 miles today in 90+ degree heat. I can feel it. My feet hurt. I'm dehydrated. I have a headache. It just seemed like the thing to do. I walked past a cemetery. I don't know why I just love cemeteries. They predict my future. It's like going to see a fortune teller whose fortune telling is 100% correct. I need all the practice I can get. I wish to die well and to die at the right time. I wish to live well now and into the future. I was going to tell my new doctor/therapist that a well planned out suicide is actually securing a good future. A well planned out suicide alleviates fear of the future because one knows there is a carefully planned clean way out. I didn't say that though because I thought that would be too much for a first visit. I should have said it though. If I can't be honest with my doctor/therapist who the hell can I be honest with. LP... lol.
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United States. Jul 07 2020 10:16. Posts 9043
