…enter title here…

I have.

I’m almost certain that I have.

…lost that child-like wonder… that absolutely exquisite limbo… that comes with limbo. The moments in-between things. When one can be anyone, anything, in any town… anywhere. This complete freedom of not being responsible for yourself… pretending.

And everything… anything’s possible.

That giddy-ness, that complete molecular dissolve into surroundings. I can’t feel it anymore. There is something eery. I can sense some sort of slightly nagging absence of something inherently. …not something enough to be something.

The denial has become anxiety.

And, I hate to say this, but I think it may be the prescription stimulant. It allows me to communicate, to be direct, to actually pull things from my brain, to understand what I’m thinking… to not seem like a slow retard…

But to what affect?

A level of anxiety that presents itself in subtle ways. But a level of anxiety that’s not me, maybe. Because, maybe, I don’t like the entire genetic manipulation-esque function of the drug. Pill. Long-acting. Swallow. Ahh. Good.

Maybe speed should just be speed. Not acceptable in societal norms. Not made long-acting. Not for children.

Because maybe that dulls the senses. And maybe…

…it’s too good. It’s too comfortable a thing to know that a pill will make you okay. It’s just easier to take the thing that makes it possible for you to wake up in the morning and face the world.

AND MAYBE THAT SHOULDN’T BE OKAY.

Because, then, it’s harder to actually deal with anything that actually exists that’s bad.

If I’m shooting up (in my lovely, engorged vein) ice that has been procured by the guy in the car that I see everyday (night), and we have to be discrete and beware of cops (or whatever)… I mean, he is a drug dealer that delivers explicit and illegal substances to me.

…as routine as this will become in my two and a half year daily dance… it’s not routine enough that you don’t (somewhere, atleast, in the back of your comprehension of life) understand that

…the pills are nihilistic. My pills are nihilistic. That is my conclusion.

And nihilism is to bad as searching for bobby fischer is to good in kiko realm.

…bad metaphor.

But, beyond this… what can I possibly do about any of this? (as I no longer have anyone in my corner)… as I’m in a hotel room, in the mid-eastern most part of new mexico… driving away. From the immediate familiar to a familiar that (even after five years, maybe a bit raw… and will always be a bit trapping).

Somebody help me!

Wait, nobody cares.

I have to help myself.

Focus

So, this second… this very second… and only this second…

I am completely focused.

In this second, my potential focus has been realized. It is fading quickly… so I really have only so much time before the dullness shades in and I pass out. So I have to work quickly…

oh, and I’m drunk. FYI.

..heh… yeah…

But in recognizing this fact…

It really is no different.

…I mean, as before.

I take prescription speed. Legally prescribed by a doctor.

do my thing… then, i need to calm the extra buzzing.

…Alcohol sounds wonderful in this capacity.

So again, as before, I drink the wine that will balance the speed.

a la “this took a bit more planning”

and I reach this, basically the same, (though comparatively mundane) superlative place.

It’s the same.

I mean, it’s not. But it is.

I’ve learned and stretched time as much as I have. In a manner that I can function. All due to the cessation of the illicit, illegal form of speed that one acquires shadily.

So, time has stretched… but whatever. the focus has been shaded-out… and I’m over it. Or it’s over me.

the end.

 

Twitter

I don’t get it.

I don’t.

So, like… there’s (before the interweb-social-network-fuck) the concept and follow-through of creating a website for a your specific purpose. You’d have to learn HTML or have a crappy 2 dimensional website that gets lost in the mire or both. Or in the pre-latter years, a crudely functioning WYSIWYG-type interface. So, it’s easier. Whatever.

…still. One really needed to create said site. It was a whole new skill set to learn; to dedicate yourself to.

You have a ‘thing’… you want to create a website around said thing.

To jump or not to jump?

This used to be a question.

Not anymore.

Its just too easy now.

I’m not saying anything about anything. I mean, I have this blllll-ahhhh-g that’s monetarily free (sans domain name) on this widely used, weak blogging bullshit alternative to the sell-out ‘blogger’-blog (doggy-dogg… ha!) client. Like it’s okay that way.

I recognize my hypocrisy.

I’m just sayin’.

What the fuck is Twitter?

Alright. There’s creating a webpage… whatever. Then blogs/vlogs and/or social-networking arises… as does the nausea.

There’s MySpace…. for the obese tragic fourteen year old that hangs them self due to teasing from some supposed suburban boy, boy’s mother, neighbour, something… that she thought her boyfriend. He wrote really nice things, after all. And she was infatuated by words on a screen.

You know, instead of finding an exercise plan or, at the very least, eating disorder to soften the blow of existence.

“Way harsh, Ty”

Apologies. Really. I know, 14, 15… it’s hard… seriously…

…but virtual infatuation trumps actual disintegration in the land of denial and low self esteem…. apparently.

lazy. baby.

right here right now. now-now.

and more. and now and now and now.

Okay, and now: Facebook and MySpace is enough. Do we really need Twitter?

I mean, really?

Twitter is the electronic equivalent to the ADHD drugs (speed aka amphetamine salts… a younger, softer brother to the cracked ‘bennies’ used in the factory in the sixties… among other places… and among other analogues of amphetamine) that we readily dole out to our 6 year olds.

I mean, really?

Facebook… MySpace… kind of okay. But Twitter is every second… Twitter has people “follow” people and like-wise people “follow” you.

“I am a stalker…. Yay!”

Can no one just sit in silence for a second?

Again, being a non-meth-using-meth-addict (out of the woods for a staggering year and a half… I mean, if you can dig that)… I recognize the hypocrisy that runs through my veins.

Maybe I just don’t get it. But fuck it.

Like the short-attention-span drugs for developing brains are bad enough. Worse, maybe. But maybe not.

Because, maybe ‘human problem solving’ has reached a place where, although the aforementioned ADHD drugs are ‘prescribed’ by a ‘doctor’… through laconic desperation and the quick-fix of the American-Way the majority of parents actually recognize that the pills they administer their children are amphetamine; the Schedule II drug that they are.

And following this back-of-head recognition, they realize that they are making a choice. They realize that they can give their child speed or not.

I mean, this is all covered in a Myelin Sheath (some call it denial) of ‘medical prescription’.

But, I’d think, for the most part, there is a part of people that actually understand… because ‘medical prescription’ can only go so far as time stretches an epidemic of sorts.

Invidiously, it’s a drug. A controlled substance, at that. And invidiously you choose to or choose not to give it to your child… knowing exactly what it is. Whether it’s sanctioned by the FDA or DSM or APA or NSA…

And that’s the thing: one can update their status on Facebook. One can update their status on Facebook every hour, every minute, every second. One can be a Facebook WHORE! But you’re a whore in a larger sea of things that are going on.

People don’t have Twitter pages. They just have their crack-whore updates.

Again, I may not really ‘get’ Twitter… but it seems like crack.

…that homeless black people smoke out of pipes in the alleyways of New York in the eighties.

And So (because I can only understand things in stimulant drug metaphors):

A created website = Methamphetamine or one of it’s long-acting brethren

Facebook/MySpace = Adderall or Ritalin or the latest dirty speed pill for kids

Twitter = Crack; homeless, urine-smelling, rock-buying crack-addict-crack

But the thing is that, it’s too soon for the public to recognize this fact. Delineate. It’s all the same. It’s nihilism.

But just like the prescription speed epidemic… people will sense it in the back of their heads in a year or so and, only then, be responsible for their Twitter updates.

CRACK!