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Icarus's blog: "Hurts to watch."

created on 09/21/2009  |  http://fubar.com/hurts-to-watch/b309843

On my palms breathing through my knees
trying too hard to like it.
Scraping every tip of every part on the jagged gravel.
Learning to ignore the taste of these deeds


Everywhere my youth explodes.
Ether and essence combine
weaving a double helix
cataclysmic as time erodes.

Guarding my sunshine place
my prescription isn't filled
as the last dust of dawn.
Obscured by a filanderer's faith.

Today you're my favorite whore
tomorrow my prophet
yesterday my saint,
my figment, displayed and portrayed in perfect form.

I'd drink you from the sink
I'd take you in the bedroom
I'd polish you in my dreams
I'd push you down the syringe

if it meant for just one second
that this was real.
bargaining, denial, depression
you were right to fear this lesson.

Cut the line
drown upstream of the surging masses
fade disappear succumb.
Live with that bludgeoning decline of time.

Maybe then.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Maybe then.

 

 

Where the hell are my 3/4th shirts?
and where the hell is the love?

Y'know that thing between your legs.

think its about time someone said it
said something about somewhere about that time.
That time it all came down on me
and probably broke something that time

that time

that time

don't you ever get tired of the people you fuck?

Not just the fun way.
But that way that gets people sick.
Gets people poor.
Gets people hurt.

Always.

In my favorite vein.
Up my favorite arm.
Down my favorite spiral.
Up my favorite dose.

Shakes are there.
Blurs there.
Light's there.

Out out down and missing.
Killed in action.
Grasped in timeless.
Grossed in endless.

Marked.
Sullied.
Discarded in my vanity.

Like everything else in the fire.

 

You ever just have a great opening line for a poem and then some dipshit calls you to tell you all about the latest installment to a game franchise that no respectable ludologist has liked or respected in 10 years?

yeah. That happened. More on my crazy ass rants later.

---------------------------------

 

Alright.
I just got (stole) 100th window. I'm pretty sure most of you know Massive Attack from the House theme song.

... and Danny the Dog OST (Unleashed)

I'm kinda into triphop and ambient. So I'm a little surprised and disappointed with myself in not having downloaded and listened sooner.

Today the christian dropped a bombshell. And the moment the christian announced that she was dating the christian eunuch was the very same moment she said she was done with him. And I noticed that she really seemed to want my opinion and approval on what she was doing. Going even so far as to call herself a terrible person.

I know one of two things about that- one she needs my input and perspective more than she knows for a myriad of social needs.
Or she'll fucking marry him because... she has a martyr complex and the second that twat starts crying she'll abandon how she really feels about him to spare his feelings and coddle him.

I've watched her do it before.
Then we went over me... because I always state "its kinda hard for me to comprehend this because my emotional register and rational process is one HUGE step to the side from most".

Blah blah blah psychoanalyzing- that means something, but I'm too busy on another tangent.

Alright

so...


I've been drinking and smoking tonight. Lil off-wired. I didn't get to do what I wanted because someone called me about FFXIII and that franchise is still dead to me. I just wanted to disappear in a fantasy, and drink, and make a delicious dinner. Any sensory distraction, if you please. I can't do that having someone confirm how awful I suspected something is. I'm not smug when people tell me I'm right. I'm annoyed.
Why didn't you listen to me the first time I said it?

I'm self medicating. I start and abandon projects (symptomatic of depression, on oh so many levels). I'm in pain. I still go to work. The character Dr. House is now a voice in my head.

... man that says so much. An imaginary genius diagnostician telling me there's something wrong with me, who incidentally has psychotic breaks, a chronic pain condition and is miserable.

so the psychosis is back?
... probably not. If anything the psychosis was just vivid daydreams induced by boredom like usual.
The audio visual hallucinations are out
the nightmares are minimal
The tremors are out too. Could be the alcohol.

I'm still an amoral disassociative ass.

Is that a problem?

 

 

 

 

 

 


I'm not so convinced it is. I work. I pay my bills. I prepare my meals. I even date.

I feel like I should be sadder.

I feel like I'm missing something, that if I were fully aware chemically I'd probably feel it.

Now its just kinda forcing itself because I know it SHOULD be there. Like a fart that just won't quite go.

I dunno. I'm gonna feed my dog. Have another drink and plan June later.

 

Why did I feel like that was the last time I'd ever see that haughty stomp?
Those moderately priced pumps and frilly earth tones.
Contemporary bob.
That one day she wore her glasses.
That one day...

Why does it become more vague with each step?
Why are the words fading and the colors slipping?
Why do the tips of my fingers ache at the slight
delicate
pull

I know this feeling.
I know this dense emptiness in my chest.

Knowing

No more small talk
no more blather and advice
no glance
no tension
no gentle pitterpat echoing in my body.

No greater responsibility.
No greater good.

No more suave smile on a crutch.
No duct tape anectdotes.

She's gone.

They didn't even consult me.
Didn't even ask if I'd like to hold up the walls as the world caved in.

She didn't say goodbye.

 

What's your sad story?

I'm bored with mine.

Today I made ... Koshian Aoume?

spell check..

Basically its sweet bean paste made into
sweet bean dumplings.

I improvised on several key components, but I can say that I've got the flavor pretty close to the internals of those delightful japanese tea cakes >>

they weren't kidding though

you really need to take the skins off before even seriously considering making this stuff.

Also

...WAAAAAAAAAAAAY too much sugar in these things.

Hell if I didn't suspect that sugar was a structural component I'd probably make savory fillings. They're seriously like bean no-bake cookies.

..
....


and then I decided to make savory fillings.

But this time I'm gonna try with chickpeas.

also
cranberry/jalapeno brined pickled onions.

Why the hell not?

Basically what we're looking at here is a 10:10:1 ratio of beans, flour, rice flour and about ... :5 sugar.

... why can't that sugar be flavor components?

I'm more inclined toward savory anyway, might explain all the dark dusky sharp flavors I enjoy.

Except in my hard alchohol... oh wait...

So I'm thinking

chickpea dumplings
I bet I could even fry em instead of steam em.

When they come out of the steamer they're maleable, storeable and ready to eat.

Problem is its like 4 different cooking processes because you have to cook the beans
mash the beans
jar the beans (ever tried to knead boiled beans into flour?)
handle the batter like a baked good

...which also means I could probably bake them. But god knows those things would come out like that crazy ration-bean-bread they made in the civil war
hard tack
that was the stuff.

High protein makes for a very gooey very sticky very tough batter.

No I'm thinking crazy pancakes/fry bread
and dumplings.

You could probably fill em

you could probably put cheese in em

you could probably live off em

you're practically biting into red beans and rice.

... especially if I use MORE rice flour.

In the meantime

apparently

I'm depressed.

Could have something to do with being single and busy and tired.

Could be a chicken before the egg thing too.

Find me a whore. Its never wrong to "just want sex" if you draw up a contract that clearly explains that.

 

Like glass against porcelain.
Serenade against cantada
orange on lemon.
vagrant against lonely.
Estrogen in stereo.
Marksman in midnight.
Vacancy in emptiness.
Duality in singularity.
Apex in zenith.
Cross in counter.
Red is blue.
Center is outer.
Forbidden is given.
Sensation is.

You ever notice there's no adult equivalent of sudden infant death syndrome

but there probably should be?

Food for thought.

I'm eating... 3 hours late, and I'm eating my bachelor's surprise (seasoned sardines and rice). It seriously cooks with about 2 seconds of involvement.

Why?

Why why ... therein the why...

I think my father just disowned me.

I fear many things in my life
things like "my condition is ruining my life and severing my ties with my loved ones".

True for today at least.

My dad opens my garage door (scares the ever living hell out of me because no call, no notice and ... uh I'm afraid of people).
I jokingly say "I'm calling the cops- I've asked that you not do that."

He stomps up to me with a box in his arms and flings it in my face

most people say this in hyperbole

as a turn of phrase

I had a cardboard box full of matter and therefor mass slammed into my face.

Not my vicinity

not my personal space

not within arm's reach.

Painfully thrust into the frontal region of my eyes, nose and upper jaw.

"It isn't all about you- y'know."

My father is red faced. Spittle is flying from the edges of his mouth, as I step back to see if my face is cut.

...

"what the fuck is all this?"

"I wouldn't have even had to have done this if you hadn't picked up your shit like we asked you to!"

... ... ... I know for a fact that the contents of the box presented so unceremoniously to me

was shit I told my parents to "throw away".

Not drive it to where I dwell, and pile it in with the half-occupied garage, half occupied living room and fully occupied guest-room
and contribute to the ever growing towers of misfit artifacts.

I didn't even address these facts as I thought more immdiately about that crack about the world revolving around me.
I almost stomped on his hood so I could yell at him more closely as he began pulling out of my driveway.

Now where did
THIS
crazy fuckery start?

before I get into where this crazy fuckery went.

Mother's day, a day of running around a day of wigging out, a day of preperation and breakdown.

I got there late (not the latest)
I left around the last.

I put my head down after lunch and tried to pretend I wasn't in a room full of people and that my stomach didn't hurt.

And I left stating "I'm not cleaning up because the last 6 things we've done, I was the only cousin/nephew/grandson

doing anything."

I felt pretty comfortable doing so too, because if I fucking hear about it, why didn't anyone else?

So I took off, made plans to watch a movie this afternoon and provided the full theatre schedule to my parents and ... played video games.

It was the only thing I could start that I could comfortably STOP at the moment they summoned.

I tried to evacuate my bowels in anticipation of running around the rest of the night, wasn't able to vommit and didn't feel that I could for a couple hours, so I was fairly comfortable with going to the movies.

They call, they're screwing around running errands for my grandmothers (don't ever volunteer, it is the errands of the damned).

And they ask about show times again
and I provide
and they ask me to pick up my granny's prescription at Dillons (there are 6 dillons here I was assuming the one closest to me. And wasn't even aware they HAD a Rx center.)

3:50

movie starts 4:15.

...

I can't even get across town in that amount of time without speeding.

Much less go into a parking lot, park, walk, find the drug counter, stand in line, pick up a prescription, get back in my car, take the Rx wherever the fuck it needs to go, AND get to the movies in the timeframe.

I state "I can't do that."

This

is apparently why I get a box shoved in my face, yelled at, and talked down to like some ungrateful child.

Next up we have the fact that my father wants me to pay $2200 for a new A/C unit in a house I will reap no profit from once it is sold.

...
He wants me to pay for a NEW A/C for an A/C that should've been replaced in the 90's.

For a house that
I am not selling.
He is selling.

this goes back to this weird indian giver ... open handed offer, fingers crossed history we've had.

A have asking a have not for payment, guilt, or favor.

I really appreciate it.

He tells me my college was a gift,
tells me to "not worry about rent, just save up and make your next move"
and the first time an expense comes up

...

Every fucking time.

And I have to make the point that he can't have me live here as a tax dodge and expect me to pay for everything.
Hell, I'm technically not even living here.
I technically have no residence.

Why would I pay for something that will not be mine?

I'm basically renting temperature comfort.

Now that may sound ungrateful

but really someone planning to make 30-40,000 $ on this house's sale, and you're not offering a fraction of it to me

I'll tell you what

why don't I just empty my bank account for all the money I've been saving the last year (3 years if you can't the 2 I was unemployable) never eating out, driving a duct tape SHIT HEAP, and just hand it straight over

especially after you encouraged me not to, and encouraged me to save up so I can MAKE A BETTER LIVING FOR MYSELF

Yeah...


Great idea.


Bankrupting me sure will get me out of this house SOONER with all that $0 I have to make a move.

So I'm pissed about this already because it came up yesterday, and I can't help but suspect its part of the problem today..

"house's take upkeep" ... yeah, and so do cars that you take in without my permission that get fucked up that no one will recoup and cost me $1700 that I DID NOT HAVE. This is actually YOUR property, you stand to have any gain in investing in it.

Oh

and I'm worried that since my dad's never had depression or a chronic pain problem (and as he's said himself) thinks I'm just pretending, or that my problems can just...
go away.

So I'm pissed about that too. And scared to death of it.

And it came crashing down on my head.

By the time I was screaming cusswords and calling bullshit, and even pointing out the impossibility of me picking up an Rx in the timeframe provided, he says "well we could've made the 4:45" which
"you didn't say JACK SHIT about that, you just made an executive decision, unecessarily drove across town and thought I WOULDN'T do it, I would've, I just said I COULDN'T in the time frame we discussed, and you made up your own damn mind about changing that as well, without talking to me!"

He tried to call bullshit

and then I really lost it.

I start jumping up and throwing rude gestures and screaming at the top of my lungs- my mother who's so afraid I'll be burned as a witch or that I'll
hurt someone
or that
I'll hurt myself.
has stepped out of the car and attempted to console me.

I'm still jumping and screaming.

"When have I NOT done what you asked me, when have I NOT done as I was told, when have I NOT helped out? I'm doing this shit EVERY FUCKING WEEKEND with you people- you think I LIKE leaving my house to get sick, you think I LIKE being afraid while I spend time with you, you think I LIKE my life? I'm fucking MISERABLE I fucking HATE MY LIFE, I am in a constant state of depression and unmanaged PAIN, and I do ALL this shit for YOU- I do everything I CAN, I'm sorry YOU don't think its ENOUGH"

... I saw my father's face when I said these things, because I had run back up to the car to scream at him

he was on the verge of tears

I honestly think he just realized that he had just told someone that is in constant anxiety, fear, pain, discomfort and misery

that he was selfish.

I wasn't done.
Because I am selfish.
I don't like eating out.
I don't like going out to movies
or other people's houses
or cafes
or go shopping
or go outside of my house

it is so selfish of me to have a biological fear response to that

and worry that in public I will shit my pants
go into a seizure induced by adrenaline or pass out from pain
and throw up all over those nice strangers that already hate me

I am so sorry that every time I leave the house
I'm worried someone's going to start hitting me
and I won't know who, and I won't know why.
Hitting me, or on worse days stabbing me.

I am so sorry that I am broken, and I am afraid, and that I need time to prepare, that I need special treatment, that I struggle to go to work, to buy food, and to walk my dog.

I am so sorry that I like some people enough to ask that they ENDURE this aspect of my hubris if they honestly want me to spend any time with them.

And I am sorry that there are some people I am willing to endure for, what little of it that I can.

Asking me to go on an errand, or to "hang out" is like asking a normal person to jump into a swarming river of highly poisonous and agitated spiders. Let me get my spider-proof suit on first.

I am sorry that my condition is an all consuming aspect of my life, and requires my full consideration and attention.

"Fuck you
fuck both of you"

I believe was my response to that as my mother pleading reached out to hold me.

Then I punched my sideview mirror so hard I felt it give.
I found out hours later that it did.
Hours of spasmatic interrupted breathing and a complete unwillingness to move.

 

Well... I just put my head down on the table at dinner and scared the hell out of my parents.

I finished eating and within 3 minutes I had one hand on my stomach and one hand on the table pressed as hard as I could, and ... I remember trying to push my head THROUGH the table.

Every muscle in my body tightened, especially over my kidneys, in my abdomen, neck and shoulders.

and I honestly felt like my stomach would fall out of my skin if I stood up, if I didn't throw up solid organs first.

...

I'm gonna go lay down now.
The whole ride back I felt like telling my dad to drive faster or I'd ruin his interior.
Possibly with a unique cocktail of blood acid and food.

And yeah... at least once every other day for 20 minutes to 4 hours.
If you had to ask.

 

It would be this-

first follow your rolled buckwheat recipe like you normally would

let it cool for 30 minutes (because the recipe usually calls for y'know... boiling water and dried buckwheat)

chiffonade about 11 leaves of spinach, I keep the stems and cube them.
This goes stupid fast with scissors.

crush two roma tomatoes, dime sized pieces or smaller.

crush about 2 cups of mushrooms (if they're crisp and fresh and the internals are dry you can seriously squish them between your fingers to about the size of a good mince)

2 tbs of goat's milk
2 heavy pinches of sea salt
1/2 tbs of black pepper
1/2 tbs of balsalmic vinegar
a heavy squeeze of lime juice (you mediterranean twats would insist on using lemon)
2-4 tbs of olive oil (I like my taboule to taste like... well something other than olive oil so I go light)
2 tbs of nut paste (I used almond, because I had it and I like it, cashew pecan or peanut would be swell, I bet hummus would work too)
uuuh...
that's about it

thyme and oregano are some of the rudimentary spices for this salad so smoke em if you got em

I contemplated adding this outstanding cumin I have...

and my paprika

and a cubed avocado

and chicken breast

or lump crab

When the salad is room temperature add the vegetables spices and the dressing, combine with your hands

... artichoke hearts and olives would be good too

one clove of shredded garlic would be nice too

or some shredded aged cheese.

I guess my real point here is

you want a salad for dinner?

you want to premake a bowl of culinary velcro?
Have taboule onhand.

You're a dressing, a protein, and some vegetables away from dinner.

I was gonna have it with tuna steak tomorrow. I have in the past... but I do have a few tins of crab meat taunting me.

Feta is more than welcome in these parts.
I bet its even good with a lightly marinated skirt steak.

happy hunting.

 

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