Hooking and crooking myself through each day now, relying on finely tuned senses, scrambling for a dollar here and there. Realizing...maybe I can do this, subsisting on $3.00 or less per day. A push here, a scramble there, and whoa- I have more money than yesterday, creating cash, not exactly a Griffter...no cons going on. Just using my head.
Thinking about "What am I here for?" No shame for me in not knowing by now, since I've been in a Reality Coma for the last 32 years, virtually all of my adult life. A long time ago I thought that I was here to make people happy, but then I realized I mostly made people miserable. Then I thought I was here to make as much love as possible. But then I realized I was only having as much sex as possible. Then I thought that I was just "passing through" leaving no impression on anyone or thing. Now I know that is poppycock! Currently my purpose in life is to extend this episode of sanity into next week! What am I afraid of? I am terrified IT will return. IT came back last wednesday and lasted 2 and 1/2 days. It was awful.
Wearing: Forest green Tee, same ole Khaki cotton slacks, boots.
Listening to: Madonna's Hollywood.
Gave my Template a new look. I kinda like it. I took the Archives out but now I've put them back.
I just joined up with Blogsnob which publishes one line ads for random member blogs. It's a neat way to go blogging, one to another.
:: Tom 9:59 AM [+] ::
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:: Monday, June 23, 2003 ::
Wearing: Khaki cotton trousers, forest green knit shirt with thin yellow and white stripes, new hiking boots.
Listening to: The Sounds of Silence in the Library: Hum of the AC, low level chatter of students in the corridor outside, occaisional cough shattering the still.
Maybe you don't understand...maybe I haven't made it plain. I AM FINALLY SANE! After thiry years of being slave to a gut wrenching anti-psychotic, years of trying any number of new drugs which were approved by the FDA, only to be sent reeling into horrifying states of madness, eight years of amphetamines which steadied my pulse at risky rate of 92 BPM, after all of that I have surfaced very cautiously in the midst of what all of you have agreed upon as Reality! No, I didn't come out of this psychedelic coma unscathed. I'm a little less than eight cylinders but I'm working very hard on that one and hope to have it firing soon. Iam amazed by the forest that I see, yet I'm having a little trouble with the individual trees.