a long, strange trip --- & home, in a far away land

It's been awhile since I wrote in this blog, not simply cuz I've been on a trip, but cuz blogger was busted until now. It kept giving me an error message, but when I tested it this morning, I was able to save a test of one sentence, so hopefully all my work -- & memories -- won't be lost. Hi, Lucy, that's why you haven't heard from me recently.

We arrived at Pizza Hut on time, & Trish had to finish her silverware. While she did that, Karen went & picked up Elena, our other member. Soon we were moving down the highway at incredible velocity toward Electric City, where we ate at Arby's. I had a medium, went back for curly fries; Trish dumped hers when I went to the bathroom, as she'd ordered a large & the fries overwhelmed her.

We came at last to the town where Trish previously tarried with the mental health system, so far removed from Nevada & reality. Karen did some crazy night-time driving, then we made it to the Red Lion, the Spiritual Sulfur which slays the Green Lion, one step removed from perfection. Stone Immaculate. But when we tried to check into the convention center, they told us the conference had overbooked the rooms, & some of us were in different motels. Ours was close by, but Elena's wasn't, & Karen had to ask for directions 3 times.

I fell straight asleep, but Trish barely slept at all, so by the time we had our continental breakfast (including wonderful waffles) we missed the Unabomber's brother.

We met & exchanged email addresses with a couple social workers at lunch, both days. Neither has written back yet; mostly, I needed them to shamelessly spam my book. "Burnout in the Dog-Yummy Factory", the chapter about childhood schizophrenia, is terribly evocative of the illness, & if you're interested, order The Mind-Warp Era (under pen name W.C. Leadbeater) from Amazon.com.

I'll never forget the girl in the black see-thru shirt & crimson bra at supper, after we ate with Hope. She's doing fine, save with her sleep & her weight.

When we reached Invisible City, Trish & I ate at El Taco Loco. The next day, she had to work, & Paradox returned "Astronomy Domine" to me, with comments. I resolved to do a rewrite, but Kimothy showed up, & she was wearing a green shirt. I spent an hour babbling with her in sign language, then she left. She did say the word, "kitty", but I think from now on, I'll have to ask her not to come in when Trish is gone. The next day, I did do a fair amount on "Astronomy Domine", & have the new opening to flesh out, & a new minor character. I want to work it up from 3.5K to 5K.

This morning Smelly Bear died. We buried him in dumpster heaven, then went to the Layout, where Cheri was cooking hamburger soup. I think I'll stick with the soup kitchen, even though I was tempted to argue with the preacher over "intelligent design". There's a lot of stupid design, too. Anyway, we paid the house insurance, & I plugged in, turned on, & booted up. Finished my blog entry with 1/2 hour to spare. Let's hope it works, this time.

testing, one, 2, 3...

This is only a test...

a long, strange trip

God & this trip didn't go thru the first time around. On top of which, Kimothy interrupted me, & would have to sit around for an hour talking in sign language -- she did say "kitty" out loud -- but though she's interesting & "different", I'd rather have started the re-make/re-model of "Astronomy Domine". It came back in the mail yesterday, with a note to the effect that the opening is weak.

So Wednesday Karen picked me up about 10 til 3, after I'd listened to Trish's Britney thing & spent some time on the web. When we came to Pizza Hut I stayed while Trish did her silverware & Karen picked up Elena. Trish brought along an order of cinna-stix, but Karen wouldn't let us eat the icing in the van.

When we arrived at Great Falls, we ate at Arby's. I had a medium sandwich; Trish had a large; I went back for curly fries, still hungry; Trish dumped her fries while we I was in the bathroom.

Then, when we finally arrived in Helena, it was after dark, so Karen got lost trying to find the Red Lion, the spiritual sulfur which unites with the Green Lion & comes down in Phoenix Enthralled. Once we found the place, we discovered that we'd been split up to a couple different nearby motels, & got lost trying to find Elena's place. We had to ask for directions 2 or 3 times. Finally, it was nite-nite, & I crashed.

Too much. We missed the Una-bomber's brother, eating waffles & cereal at the motel's continental breakfast. We ran into Hope, but after lunch -- where I met a social worker named Pam (the non-perky one) -- Trish wanted to go back to our motel to fix her dentures. She napped a bit, while I watched TV. She said she hadn't slept at all, as the bed was too hard.

We ate with Hope, again (& also at lunch), which was served up buffet style. I skipped the turkey, as I already had some ham.

The next morning, we had an opportunity to sleep in, as the conference didn't start until 10. We checked out of the motel after breakfast, then attended a couple more panels, up until lunch, where we met Linde. She actually agrees with me about the value of psychedelics (Farber) & didn't babble about dual diagnosis.

We skipped the door prizes, so Trish could talk to Gene Haire about the way Iron Claw House is run. The return trip was uneventful. We ate at El Taco Loco.

Saturday began typically, though Trish insisted on not-driving. After she came home, she napped awhile, while I played the keyboard. She actually likes my playing. After supper, she did some housecleaning, while I went in the basement with the Immaculate Collection. We watched our tape of Battlestar Galactica -- Trish likes to hide at nite -- & then watched Ace Ventura on Encore. I hope she slept well last nite. We don't need snow as a further stressor.

a long, strange trip

Wednesday afternoon, after Lisa dropped me off from the Layout, as well as the camera, I plugged in Trish's latest Britney-thingy & let it play. I watched it for awhile, then just listened while I surfed cyberspace. I mostly just looked at hotornot.com, but after the last couple of fiascos, intend to avoid it now, as much as possible.

When Britney finished, I waited for Karen out on the porch. Elena joined us for the trip, & we arrived at Pizza Hut just when Trish was almost finished. When we arrived at Great Falls, we stopped at Arby's. I had a medium, a glass of water, then went back for some curly fries.

We finally made it to Helena, after dark. Karen got lost trying to find the Red Lion, the Spiritual Sulphur which brings the change. We drove back & forth over the same piece of turf multiple times, Karen did some scary driving, then we found the place.

But there were so many people registered that some of us were transferred to different motels. Trish & I, as well as Karen, were at the Mountain Valley Inn, while Elena stayed somewhere else. We drove around quite awhile, had to stop & ask directions at least twice, then dropped her off & returned to our motel.

As soon as we were there, I took 3 Scientology-fucking temazapam (& where were the people with shares in the drug companies at this symposium?) & immediately crashed.

Trish slept poorly, & we weren't ready to go at 9:00, so we missed the Unabomber's brother's speech, though Karen told me it smacked of Biggie the Blanket. We finally made it to the Inn's continental breakfast, then walked over. At lunch we met a deluxe & delightful social worker, Pamela, who expressed some interest in my book. She gave us her email address & sometime soon I may send her the info on the book, The Mind-Warp Era, (Trish's title), under the pen name W.C. Leadbeater, about the adventures of a cosmicomic cartoon character as he fends off various evils that threaten the Invisible landscape.

(To be continued...)

When autumn comes rolling around...

...we'll be lucky to get out of town, Fireman's Friends or otherwise. Yes, today is a real atomic day. Trish & I will be heading out to the State Conference on Mental Illness, a symposium for scientists & analysts, for the various consumers themselves, & a place where we ridicule Scientology & I Ron Steele (an amateur at Critters who made about 5 typos in his bio; it's hard to take someone like that seriously -- he wrote, "FYI, there's some very important work being done [words missing] who don't have shares in the drug companies to make these drugs illegal, due to their fraudulent nature. There won't be neuraleptics in the 26th Century. Hopefully". So I asked this bozo not to read any more of my writing; I return again & again to the subject of mental illness. So screw Scientology & Narcoholics Numinous; I'll take my "pills".)

Once Trish is up for breakfast & we've had our coffee, hers hot, mine iced, (the freezer isn't freezing the ice cubes solid again), we'll call Lisa at the Layout to see if she's buying our visi-cam. If she has the buckadingdongs on her, I'll go to a Bryan-less Layout (he finally had his hernia & skin operation) to pick up the cash. That way we can build up our Trips account & at the same time have enough left over for Toastie Bear. If Lisa doesn't want it, Say Bra might.

After lunch, I'll do some work on "Relayer". I'm trying to add the alien as a POV character, but am worried that I've already got enough of them. Maybe Adam needs to go. Yeah, even if the band Inner Cymbalism is in the story, adding an Eve would be too blatant. "Sophie" & "Soft Machine" also sound too much like each other.

Yesterday I had a real (manic?) burst of creativity in Pizza Hut. Car-girl had a dentist appointment, so she picked me up as soon as I ate at the Soup Kitchen -- BLTs & mushroom soup -- so I tried explaining Kuhn (duh. everybody's read it.) & then she didn't understand my reference to Sulloway's Freud: Biologist of the Mind (when actually I am a Jung American). Mostly, she didn't understand my referencing it to Haeckel, as she's never had to study evolutionary biology & remains steadfastly a Creationist. (Trish asked about the same subject in bed last night & I had to try to explain that there's no way you can "prove" Creation, as as soon as you posit a Creator the way is opened up to ask, "Who created the Creator?")

Car-girl eventually had to go, so, since it was a nice day, I volunteered to walk home with my beautiful Bumble Bee Girl. I sat there & sloshed down one pitcher after another of Diet Pepsi; I'd had an iced double-shot latte when Car-girl drove us home from the bank in the morning -- I mean, talk about being wired! So, all of a sudden, while I waited for Trish to finish lunch, I had the Mindstorm that, since clinical trials of psychedelic drugs have now resumed (in spite of things like the DEA's raids of medical marijuana patients), it might be time to revive Simon Farber, the hero of my MA Thesis. Originally intended as a 4-part story, the MA version was only intended to be the first segment. Most of the original material has been lost, but it's been burned into my memory cells by a thousand atomic submarines. It'd make a great motion picture 'cause of the special effects, along with an all-Doors soundtrack: the title of the story is Pheonix Enthralled, part I is The Celebration of the Lizard, part II Alive, She Cried, part III Lions in the Street & Roaming, & part IV The Crystal Ship.

Then, when we arrived at our residence, Trish & I relaxed awhile, before she took her shower. I was too burned out to play my keyboard, so we just kind of sat around until supper -- leftover pork -- & then Trish & I cleaned the hamster's cage & packed.

Karen Kalled about 7:30, told us to pack light, & asked when Trish would get off work. Hopefully, by 3:00; we'll be lucky to get out of town.

In bed we discussed the bit-cuh some, but I'm really glad I dumped her. Trish also had some concerns over "the Universe"/Creation, & I tried my best to answer her questions. We talked a long time before either one of us fell asleep. Once she's up, I'll be fixing toasted Frog. She likes that.

...& freedom tastes of reality

...& Reality was my next-door neighbor during the Mind-Warp Era, which you can read about in the book of the same title, pen-name W.C. Leadbeater. Try Amazon.com.

But the reason I'm talking about freedom is that I dumped someone who was becoming a royal pain in the ass. That's this woman, Monica, whom I met at hotornot.com. It's just pics of people with little blurbs about themselves, & if you want to actually meet someone, one or the other, or both, parties have to be Star members. So I clicked on her pic 'cause she didn't sound like she'd be after a relationship; it's stated plainly in my details that I have a beautiful Bumble Bee Girl. Things started out well enough, with an exchange about her keywords -- but alas, I noticed "dominance" & "submission" among them. I'm not doing any of that stuff unless I wake up & find myself transformed into Biggie the Blanket. I've seen what his Karen Relationship did to him, & even though Monica is interested in silk & chains instead of whiplash, girl-child, in the dark, I want a woman who respects me, not ties me down, & that's what I have in Trish.

But I started talking about my writing with her, hoping she'd find it interesting; instead, she complained that I spent an "inordinate amount of time doing it", when in reality, I only put in about 3 hours a day, when Trish is gone. I was mostly just stressing 'cause of ASIM & their rude editors. They sent back a story with a whole page of insults, from some bozo who doesn't understand science -- or literature, for that matter. & even where his criticisms were legitimate, he employed sarcasm & ridicule. Then again, they're an amateur publication, so they can be expected to act like a bunch of amateurs.

After I emailed Monica about the rude bastards at ASIM, she really started in on me. I suppose that's "dominance". I informed her that, unless she apologized, I'd delete her.

Immediately following Layout time (& a spike into my vein) I deleted her, as soon as Lisa left with the digital camera. The device is real atomic, but we have no use for it & now we can buy Toastie Bear.

Being without the dumb slut is like having my divorce from reality permanently aborted: thanks to Perky Pam & her spike into the vein (when the haldol is in my blood & the blood is in my head), I can think clearly now (not to mention having the Abilify to do so), & what I think is that strangers who want to insult you are to be automatically deleted. I may flirt a little with slimchicks & an occassional heavyset one, but I'm certainly not going to spend any time obsessing over some dipshit who doesn't understand my creativity.

Good riddance.

But I'm still making friends from all over the world on the Internet. I've met this Chinese girl (boy-chick?) who's a post-doctoral fellow in pharmacy in Florida, who also wants to teach Tai Chi. I dragged her away from cooking supper for awhile, & we had a good chat, but she terminated it with, "don't you have TV to watch?", I guess 'cause at one point I told her Trish & I watch TV most of the times when she's online. However, Trish has developed a new cleaning schedule, in which she does one hour a night, which frees me up to chat with the girly-girl(/boy-chick). I felt a little hurt that it sounded sort of like I had been asked to go away, but I think I can trust her, nonetheless. I do think, though, that she's looking for a relationship. I'd like to introduce her to Jerome, but he's an expert on India, not China.

The only other thing that I did yesterday was to work on the relayer sequence of "Relayer". If the story's to be titled that, it really becomes necessary to have her be more than a convenient mouthpiece for exposition. Stan likes stories told from an alien POV, anyway, as long as they're sufficiently alien.

Trish awakens soon. Time to publish & make pancakes. Or French toast. I'll have to ask her which one she wants when the alarm goes off.

stupid bit-cuh, anyway

For the last few days, I've been trading messages with a young woman on hotornot. Things started out OK, but I mentioned I was a breast fetishist in re. her B&D & she responded, "Well, I guess you are a man". I replied with, "there are ass men & leg men", & the end began then, & though she's beautiful, she's not my friend. Nor will she ever will be. She complained that she didn't appreciate something she considered "humorous" being taken as criticism. I suppose if we were in a relationship, I'd have to laugh at all her jokes, in fear I might offend. There's no way I'd get into a relationship with her; B&D is a Not.

Then the other day, after I mentioned my writing, she complained that I do "an inordinate amount of time sending pieces & parts of [myself] to publishers & accumulating rejection slips" . This really pissed me off. I'm supposed to give up the only thing that makes my life meaningful for some dominatrix who's a bit-cuh? I think I'll stay with Trish; I know I'll never be chained down & humiliated.

So I sent this woman a note, saying that she'd hurt my feelings. She responded with another snotty remark, so when I got home from the Layout, I deleted her. I'll never have to deal with the bit-cuh again -- unless she's followed the link to this site, but I never read my comments, anyway; this is mostly for my own private use in chronicling the continuing adventures of Rootboy.

This morning, Perky Pam put a spike into my vein, for the 2nd to the last time. It's only 1/4 shot, but it was sufficient to strengthen my resolve to eliminate this slut. I went downstairs, to see Lisa-Lisa & Blue Oyster Cult Jam. Nobodaddy was there, save for Mary, but I decided to stay, anyway: the bit-cuh had me too upset to go home & "devote an inordinate amount of time to [my] writing". Instead I waited around. Brawny's in (the) Fargo (of the Invisible landscape) for surgery on his hernia & skin; Ryan walked there, & Sam & Wayne showed up, as well as John, the new guy who can't play piano. So Trish called from work. About that time, Tradio was on the radio, & I asked Lisa if she knew their phone number. At that point, she expressed interest in our visi-cam. After chicken stir-fry lunch, she gave Mary a ride to Adam's, then picked up the camera.

This might finally give us some cash to buy Toastie Bear.

another manic shot day

Today is shot day, the 2nd to the last The haldol has been in my blood (& the blood is in my head) for years now -- do I have the Abilify to cope without it? & fuck Scientology. I'll be calling over to the Layout around Perky Pam's projected arrival time (9:00-ish) & see if I can wait long enough to let Trish drive the batmobile to work. It reassures her that she can do it when she calls home & talks about the drivers & the cooks.

Yesterday was sort of a down, low-key day for me. The editor of ASIM wrote back, saying that he "no longer cares" about QA. Although I realize that exploding at an editor is "counter-productive", it wouldn't have happened if he kept his editorial staff in line. There's no point in sending back a story with a page of insults, especially if you want that author to continue to write for you.

Then I had to cope with a piece of email from some dipshit I met on hotornot.com, who claims I "spend inordinate amounts of time sending pieces & parts of myself to publishers & stressing over rejection letters or acceptance letters". This is bullshit. I told her this morning that writing is one of the few things that adds meaning to my life, & that if she actually feels this way, we can't be friends.

I did have a good conversation with Bill Wimsatt, though. He told me enough about bacterial evolution to start a story (if I can figure out characters & a plot) & he cited a journal article for me about the split brain, called "One Brain -- Two Minds", by Michael Gazzaniga. This should be sufficient to disprove ASIM's claim that a brain-hemisphere transplant should lead to "two minds in one skull (which can talk to each other!)" as being "truly atrociously bad science". I certainly have no idea where they came up with the claim that I've "read way too much Robert Anton Wilson". In any case, it was good to talk to him again, & I was off the phone in time for my sweet Bumble Bee Girl to call home from work.

Then I checked my email & found that the biker chick on ICQ chat was online. We talked for a real long time. We have drugs & alcohol in common. I told her that I've quit everything, but wouldn't mind going back to pot. About the point where we got to it improving sex her daughter had to use the computer.

I had a TV dinner for lunch, then put on the first Austin Powers movie. By the time it wrapped up, Trish called home, during the deleted scenes at the end of the tape. However, when she called, she was upset over the other cars in the parking lot. She made it home without an accident, anyway.

We relaxed for a bit, then, when Trish took her shower, I played Blue Sunday over & over with different rhythms & sounds. I think that when I try again today, I'll slow the rhythms down some more. The song is really too ponderous to be played rapidly, anyway.

We had sketti-o's for supper, which was one of Trish's ideas. We also had frozen carrots & garlic toast.

I talked with my Chinese friend while Trish did some housework. She's a post-doctoral fellow in pharmacy & practices -- & even wants to teach -- Tai Chi. She respects my writing, unlike the bit-cuh who's sending in those unfriendly remarks.

We started Never Been Kissed when Taco John called. He said Mother is in about the same condition, & that no one's heard from David since he contacted Jerome. He'll probably won't even attend the funeral, 'cause of his warped wife. She's the one driving him crazy to an early grave, with all her herbs.

It's been awhile since I worked on "Relayer". If the 1/4 shot doesn't interfere, I'll do some more of the alien POV this afternoon.

Andromeda Spaceways' UFO crashes near Invisible City

This morning, Robbie Matthews, editor in chief of Andromeda Spaceways, an amateur magazine in Australia, exposed himself for the amateur he truly is. 2 or 3 months ago, I sent him "Quantum Amplifier", & heard nothing back from him for several weeks. I'd sent him a note expressing my displeasure over one of his reader's remarks about "Fragile Eggshell Mind", so he deliberately stalled the submissions process. When I asked if I'd been blacklisted, he advised me to "tone down the paranoia" (that's a job for Risperdal & Abilify, & is not my responsibility), that he was simply "behind".

That was 2 months ago. Yesterday, I finally wrote & asked him to either start the reading process or I'd withdraw my story. This morning, he replied, saying, "Fine. Take it. I no longer care.". This is good, as publishers who take ridiculously long times with stories are to be shunned, as are editors who send back whole pages of insults when they don't like a story. Andromeda Spaceways is a cheap-ass, stupid, dipshit magazine with ignorant editors. Hell, you can tell they're an amateur market: no professional one would act this way, & besides, even though they ultimately rejected it, all the pro magazines had comments on it. Some Rebeboed Bozo King at the magazine has a real arrogant attitude, & I'll tell every writer I meet not to submit there, as they're a strictly AMATEUR market.

& so it goes. (I am really Curt Vague-&-Nuts. I wrote Venus on the 1/2-shell, but lost all the buckadingdongs in the lawsuit.)

give us this day our daily Lead

So how am I connected with W.C. Leadbeater? He's sort of a Vonnegutsy comic book fan in my self-published novel, The Mind-Warp Era (available at amazon.com). Since the character's life, as he lives thru diverse Mindstorm moments, roughly parallels my own life, the question becomes, have I changed into Lead, in reverse alchemy? No. Lead is a projection, an autonomous complex which split off from my mind the day in my mother's old house I first holed up in the upstairs with a typewriter to write an epic. Lead is distinct, separate. He will become more separate, once I return to work on the rewrite, mainstreaming/mainlining Mindstorm.

Strange days have found me, & they won't go away until the mind-warp is complete. I tarry there a little longer, & then there will be a return to the mundane -- & the transmundane. Diverse ideas of God operate in my SF, as well as the material world. Whole universe as a backdrop? Hell, yes, I'll go for it -- as soon as I remove some more of the SF elements from my book. Work on it comes in spurts, between short stories.

Like Ulysses, it will be remembered.

random enumerations

Yesterday, Trish & I went to the Perky Pam Layout. As usual, there's nothing to do there, except to visit with other refugees from the Hotel Gonzo. Normally, I can't afford to waste the time: I want to do as much writing as possible before the night closes in.

So we arrived about 10:00, after the county health nurse checked my blood pressure. We played a game of War, which I lost, then watched Trish play Solitaire before we went onto the computers -- I still don't see why Cheri is so opposed to the Internet. The only intelligent conversation I get out of the Layout is Car-girl, & even then, I can't talk about evolution with her, or she'll start quoting scripture.

Cheri fixed pork chops, mashed potatoes, & stuffing -- we'd taken some pork out of the freezer for last night, but put b-b-q sauce on it, so we had the same meal twice in one day. Sort of.

Trish had a doctor appointment at 2:00, so all we did was sit around listening to old CDs. When we called the Invisible taxi they said that they hadn't received a note from Medicaid transport, so I called. They said it'd been confirmed, then phoned the cab.

Once we were at the clinic, we had to wait an hour to see Dr. Lakovich. She's taking on all of Dr. Huffman's patients, since he left town. She looked at Trish's left ear, the one in which she's prone to chronic ear infections, & prescribed some penicillin.

We ran into Robert (Emily's husband) on the way out. He told us Keith finally paid for Dish TV so he could see TV-Land.

When we came home Trish took her shower, while I played my keyboard. I'm trying to learn rhythm better, by leaving the auto-play chords thing running while I play. I'm still struggling to keep up with the machine, even though I've slowed it down (Blue Sunday is a slow song, anyway), or sometimes I play too fast.

Trish played her new Britney Spears thing while we waited for supper. By the time the meat was cooked, the show was over (I put it in about 1/2-way thru). We went channel-surfing until bedtime, after watching some movie on the Skiffy channel. We made sure to tape Battlestar Galactica, which seems to be replacing Buffy. Actually, Trish has been a lot less obsessive about her favorite TV shows lately, & I think we owe all that to the Scientology-fucking Lamictal she's on.

My own med adjustment seems to be working well, but I don't know if I have the Abilify to finish "Relayer" without Perky Pam sticking a spike into my veins Monday morning. I'm going to miss the haldol, in spite of the side-effects (which is why it had to be withdrawn, anyway).

This morning, I found a note in my inbox from my new double-match on hotornot.com. She sounds cool, so I turned her on to this blog. I also looked at her site. She's pretty, but I'm not sure what to make of her interest in B&D: silk & chains. I wonder if that also includes shiny, shiny boots of leather. She says she's heard of the Velvet Underground, but apparently Ahasn't heard Venus in Furs. One of my own pages, a collaboration with Timothy Leary (he did the funeral & the freezing; I did the re-make/re-model & added the identical twin Ladytrons) is on the Velvet Underground Webring, Andy Morlock's Dead.

give us this day our daily blog

Today's daily blog, as usual, is a recap of what I did yesterday. I woke up "late", around 6:30, after a fitful sleep, waking up every hour or so, so last night, I tried the higher dose of Scientology-fucking temazapam I'm on.

Trish slept in until 9:00, while I responded to an uh-oh! at ICQ chat. I spent the next 2 hours talking to a biker chick who works as a CNA & practices witchcraft. I finally got offline, in order to phone in some 'scripts to Western Drug.

Trish did some light cleaning, then wanted to watch one of her Britney Spears DVDs. We ate lunch at the Soup Kitchen, then watched Britney Spears & Heavy Metal, up until Car-girl arrived for our TA -- at 2:00; her husband had the day off.

We went out to PJ's for a pop, then I picked up $30 of groceries; Trish & I went to the bank with Car-girl together, pre-pop. The conversation didn't dwell on "Relayer", lesbian sex aside, not to mention dope & peyote, but instead focussed on how I've been spending so much time on Internet chat rooms. I find myself, rather than writing when Trish is at work, wanting to surf for women fantasy friends.

Maybe it's just 'cause the Scientology-fucking Abilify hasn't hit yet. I really felt it the first few days I was on it; this is my 2nd month, & I started on the higher dose today. I'm now on 10 mg.s, & took the last 2 5 mg. pills this morning, rather than wait until tomorrow. I can feel the haldol wearing out of my system, & although I'm still getting a 1/4 shot Monday, it might take awhile for the Abilify to build up, so I don't want to do a lot of bad writing before the Abilify is in my blood & the blood is in my head. I just hope instead I'll be able to do some work tomorrow, when Trish is at work.

So after Car-girl & I picked up some groceries, I came home to find the house empty. Trish had gone somewhere, so I left the door open -- it was a warm day -- & started to put away our pork & chicken. Trish walked thru the door a few minutes later, & my leaving it open really freaked her out.

For supper, we had mac-&-cheese & some carrots. I need to buy milk & frozen veggies again, soon. After supper we watched Trish's new Britney Spears Live in Las Vegas, then shot the orgasm death. It's starting to get more atomic, with the haldol wearing out of my system.

We went channel-surfing afterwards, & then to bed.

my little China Grrl

Before I get to the China Grrl, I really suppose that I should relate what transpired yesterday. The morning was nice, with extra pancakes & one of my bizarre mixes of CDs on my changer. Trish left about 10:45; Becky from work gave her a ride.

Then I got on the computer. It'd been my plan to work some more on "Relayer", but instead, after I started out to check my email, went on hotornot.com & looked for people to double-match with. Someone with a star is now on my list, & she's a dominatrix: silk & chains. I got a message out of her a couple days ago, then nothing. I wrote her a 2nd message; still no luck.

I finally started to rework my short story, & reached the scene told from the alien's point of view, but decided that I really need to rethink the passage & do more in the way of showing the reader, perhaps by expanding the flashback.

Trish got a ride home from Becky (I believe), sat in the comfy chair eating veggies for awhile, then took her shower. While she was in there I played my keyboard some. I'm trying to use her time there as part of a daily discipline; whiplash, girl-child, in the dark.

So I didn't feel like making mac-&-cheese for last night's supper, so I proposed going out to El Taco Loco. I had a wheat shell, which is a real crazy taco, & Trish had a chicken enchilada & fries.

Then I met my little China Grrl on the web once more. The other night I decided to get on chat rooms to pass the time, & looked up "Joey Wong". I turned up a pharmacy student at the University of Florida who wanted to "cooperate" with me, but didn't make it clear if she was simply after a marriage of convenience, to get a green card (which wouldn't work 'cause I'm married); cyber-sex (which exasperates Trish & exacerbates VADIS); or even moving to China -- a country I'd much like to visit, but am not sure I'd want to stay there, mostly 'cause of my disability & the difficulties I'd have finding treatment.

What worries me is that I'm spending more & more time on the internet chat rooms & devoting less & less time to my writing. At this point, though, I don't want the story ready to be sent to Critters (& ultimately hopefully resubbed to Analog) until after my dose of Abilify has been in place for a week.

Monday is shot day, & it's only 1/4 shot, but it's enough to continue to have side effects. This includes sexual ones, so even though I'm feeling more desire, the delayed/complete lack of ejaculation is still bothersome, & then Trish asks, "Is it me?". No. It's 'cause the haldol is in my blood.

So today we're going to the Perky Pam Layout for lunch. Trish wants to pick up her Britney Spears thing at Creative Leisure, & I'm doing TA with Car-girl at 1:00. I want to pick up a bunch of groceries for the coming week, then go somewhere for a soda & discuss my story & my addiction to the internet. I hope no one tries to bust me & Trish up the way Hope's relationship got busted up. I still remember the scared little depressed girl sleeping on an air-mattress in the living room, watching TV all night, feeling suicidal & I've been there, too.

Hope springs eternal. We see her at the convention in Helena. I just wish we could get the family to realize Dave & Karen have mental illnesses. It was him selling her computer that really first made me feel something was awry. Hope is still mad about that & I don't blame her. John's attitude (it's a phase he's going thru) & Jerome's rationalizing her paranoia both have me feeling there's no hope for my brother & sister-in-law. Fuck Scientology, anyhow; we've got to get them off this herbal crap.

So that's where it stands. I've been spending a lot of time looking for fantasy girlfriends, even though Trish is my dream, my wish, my fantasy; truly, madly, deeply. Maybe the Abilify will kick in & cure me. Or maybe it's a "phase". Yeah, right, John. Anyway, talk to you all who've been following this thing tomorrow.

sentimental dental trip (good Carma)

Yesterday I returned to Dentist the Mentalist, to have a crown put on the molar he did the root canal on. I don't remember when he did the rootboy thing; that's what blogs are for -- if I want to know, I can just go back & look.

So we set the alarm for 6:00 for Trish's Synthroid. then an hour later, for the rest of her stuff. I fixed breakfast of pancakes, then sent her back to bed, to nap before work -- she has an ear infection & what may turn out to be the beginning of a cold; she needs her rest.

Car-girl drove up around 8:00, though it took a few minutes from when she called for her to arrive, cold minutes, spent out on the porch. Then we were Reuben Down the Highway at incredible super-speed; fear & loathing in the Car-mobile. She brought her convertible, with the top up, since her other car wasn't suitable for highway travel.

Then the roads turned bad sometime before we hit Harlem. Car-girl almost turned back. We stopped at Harlem to use the bathroom & buy a soda. After the bridge at Dodson, the roads all cleared up, & we were really Reuben Down the Highway, & like a rocket-man, got there on time.

The procedure itself only took about an hour. It involved a lot of drilling/grinding, followed by gluing. We got back on the road around 11:00, & I got the super burrito combo in Harlem, which was like, 5 buckadingdongs for a burrito, some tots, & a 20 oz. drink.

When we were back in Invisible City Car-girl let me off at the corner, & pointed out that I'd spilled some food on my like-new parka. I'd chosen the burrito as I thought it'd make the least mess in her car; she liked the idea & thanked me.

I wrote a lengthy letter to Dion when I got home, mostly to explain why I was sending him an earlier draft of "Relayer" (I screwed up with the printer) & why Janeway turned into a lesbian. & a pot head, too, for that matter. I'm really starting to like this OpenOffice program, after finally figuring out how to insert page numbers. What I like is that it tries to finish words for you, & once you've used a word a few times, it'll guess at that. Like, the first 2 times I used my wife's name, I had to spell it out; then I wrote T-r-i & it finished, -s-h.

Trish got a ride home from one of the drivers, who didn't charge her. She didn't call first, as she thought I'd still be in Malta, so suddenly the door opened, while I was listening to my CD changer.

She napped a little while, then took a shower & did some dishes. Charlene Upstairs wants her to do small chores every day, rather than wait until the weekend. Promise -- no TV until chores were done, so I went online & looked for women named "Joey Wong" in China. I turned up someone doing post-doctoral research (she claims) at the University of Florida, who's looking for a green card. I think she's looking for a marriage of convenience so she can stay in the country. There was all this cryptic BS about how she could find Chinese people to "trade" with me, & how the 2 of us could "cooperate", but I never could get her to define her terms. Since she's only on at nights (she claims), I may never hear from her again, but am not sure I really want to, without knowing what she actually wants.

We went to bed around 9:00, as usual. I woke up this morning around 6:30. I feel rested. Today, I think I'll work on "Relayer", but I'm not resubbing it to Critters until after I'm on the higher dose of Scientology-fucking Abilify & the immensely Scientology-fucking haldol, even though I'm only getting 1/4 shot. The reason is that I think my writing is starting to look schizophrenic again.

good Carma for the dentist day

Today is dentist day; another trip to Malta, this time for a crown for a root-canal the dentist did a couple months ago. I woke up at 5:00 (Car-girl wants to leave around 8:00), but then, I'd gone to bed plenty early, 'cause of Trish's ear infection, which this morning has vanished, but she "still wants to see the doctor". I'm waiting for her to get out of bed for her breakfast, then she'll return to nap until 9:00.

Yesterday was a very productive day for me. I wasted very little time in chat rooms (though someone into B&D wrote me a message); mostly, I worked on the rewrite of "Relayer" & finished the new intro & some of the "bridge" scene, which I'd flirted with doing in the last draft, the one that I did anyway, even though I'd sent the wrong story through Critters.

Theresa gave Trish a ride to work yesterday, then Fred came over in the afternoon, to jam on our keyboard & his guitar. He broght along a file, to try to fix the back door. It closes a little bit easier now.

Fred gave Trish a ride home, after about 3 false alarms on other people calling me.

Trish & I ate our veggies from the Pizza Hut salad bar, then she took a shower. We had Chef Boy-r-dee for supper, as well as garlic toast. We're running low on food. I found a steak in the freezer downstairs, but don't know what we'll have Wednesday night. (Macaroni & cheese?)

After supper, Trish wanted to go to bed early. Since I'd been getting sick of the CDs in the changer, I put in 5 new ones, including the Roger Waters version of the Wall, which I listened to carefully, instead of as background music. Then I turned the TV on. Trish decided she felt hungry, so we split a can of pineapple, then watched the Cosby Show on Nick-at-Nite until she returned to bed, still early. I took 3 Scientology-fucking temazapam last night, & slept soundly until 5:00. That's still 8 hours.

I'm not going to shift my standard dosage to 3 just yet. Most of the time, I take 2, & plan on continuing at this dose, unless the insomnia really hits me hard again.

snow showers bring?

Certainly not Mayflowers or pilgrims. Snow showers mostly bring a need for Trish to find a ride to work, so if Car-girl can't do it, she has to pay Christy or Theresa to do it, & a couple more buckadingdongs in the afternoon, for one of the drivers: it's raining now, slated to turn colder, snow overnight; up to 2 inches & my style's getting schizophrenic again; I really need that extra dose of Scientology-fucking Abilify. We'll know later this morning if Car-girl can give Trish a ride; for now, she's sleeping off her ear infection. I noticed yesterday that as long as she had something to do -- laundry, dishes -- she didn't say anything; once she was sitting still it began hurting again.

So yesterday, after Trish & I ate our breakfast of pancakes & sat around drinking our Scooby-dew & she left for work, I ran over to the store & picked up 5 cans of the pineapple that's on sale, 10 for $10. Trish loves her pineapple, as long as it's chunky & not crushed. Then I watched part #2 of the boxed set of Return of the King. I didn't feel like writing; wasted some time on Hot or Not & trying to find a chat partner on ICQ, then actually did sit down with my short story. I think that there are still too many elements derivative of Star Trek. The opening scene has the character in "the ship's lounge", for example. Never mind that she's smoking a Rasta cigar with Andy Roach & Joe Clip, it sounds Trekkie. Sure, I've converted the thing into a barrel-shaped, rotating vessel with a warp-field generator on the front of the craft, but even then, "warp" may prove too Trekkie of a term. I wanted something that would stand out from the "hyperspace" of the alien drive, but then, "drive" might possibly prove Trekkie, also. Bottom line is, something in that intro has got to go -- while at the same time effectively hooking the reader into the story. Although something controversial like legal marijuana may be an effective way of drawing some readers into the story -- & turning off others -- I'm not really sure that the entire opening scene can't be dropped. That leaves me with the original opening, but that may involve too much in the way of introducing characters too quickly. What I started to do yesterday, & stopped 'cause Trish was due home, was to rework the bridge scene & replace it with a tele-conference conducted on the ship's computers. This makes more sense, anyway. I'll do some more work on this before Car-girl comes (she promised me a late TA); if she doesn't want to work today, I'll do what I can with the story.

So Trish arrived home on time, & her parking was near-perfect. She went back & redid it, but it was better the first time. We ate an early supper of chicken thighs, including mashed potatoes, which she made (she's better at following the recipe on the box than I am) & frozen vegetables. We took the chicken out too early, though, & had to nuke it. I watched a little TV, then Trish went to bed early, 'cause of her ear infection. I ended up falling asleep in the chair for an hour, & fell asleep again in bed, rapidly, after taking 2 Scientology-fucking sleeping pills. Got up to rain & cold. I hope work will go well with Trish today.

I almost forgot to say: we called Trish's mom & step-mom yesterday. Ruth wanted to talk to me, but didn't have time; Rosemary mostly told me to stay away from haldol -- I hope my mother-in-law hasn't been Scientology-fucked -- & that she doubts the MPP's ballot initiative will pass, which I told her, it's running slightly ahead in the polls, but of course the drug czar will come in at the last minute, & waste a bunch of the taxpayer's money illegally campaigning against it.

suddenly Sunday

Today is Sunday, another work day for Trish, & another day we do not worship in the temple of the Dyer; he dips what he dips in water. I woke up sometime before 6:00 again, got out of bed without waking Trish, then made some coffee & put the stereo on way down low -- we left it on last night 'cause Trish likes to fall asleep to music. She turned me into Cranky Bear, though, when I was almost asleep & she woke me up over an "ear infection". I realize she has chronic problems with them, but there's nothing that can be done until Monday, & it's just another thing for her to have anxiety about.

So yesterday she drove to work. We have very few days left this month when she'll be able to drive, as Karen doesn't want her driving on the snow until she's a better driver. In November, we're cancelling our car insurance, moving the car out back, & having Fred take in the battery.

After she left I goofed off more than I really accomplished anything, though what I did accomplish was good. Mostly, I just checked out the Hot or Not website, which is getting to be a real addiction for me & I don't see what I hope to accomplish there. Eventually, I did look at my story, & although most of it I simply edited, I began to draft a scene from the alien's point of view. Stan likes those, anyway. Now comes the part where the dialogue is not conducted on the "bridge", but on the ship-net. The main problem with the story, & something I'm really trying to write out, is that it began as a Star Trek: Voyager screenplay. I need to select options to make it more Analog-y. I dare not send it to Asimov's, gay characters aside, as I dread the way everything comes back with a form letter. It also won't sell to F&SF, as whatever it is that they print, it's not fantasy & science fiction. I'll have to return to work on it today, though before I do, I have to run over to Albertson's & pick up some fruit. We really need to get to the dollar store to buy their huge cans, but alas, Trish hasn't mastered going to the mall yet.

She called home around 3:00. The first thing that she said was that Bridget was causing her some problems. I told her to save it for when she got home. She did a fair job on parking, as she didn't really have to do a lot of repositioning; she merely watched me do a lot of hand-waving.

She changed clothes, before an early supper of leftover nacho bake casserole. After supper she did some housecleaning in the kitchen, as part of her new strategy implemented to free up her days off.

She finished reading the last draft that I did of "Relayer", & agrees that we should send it to Dion. Her main problem lay with the beginning. She felt the officer who was sailing a U-boat ran into the t-tubes too soon. Maybe that element needs to be written out. An exploratory ship can't be that large.

So between 5:00 & 6:00 Ted called. I'd called & left a message on his answering machine the day before. Mostly, I wanted to know if he still gets stories back from Analog with forms. My rejection was personalized, but it looked identical to the one on "Astronomy Domine", so I became afraid that he's simply got a pre-written letter on his computer where he simply types in the author's name. Since Ted doesn't get these, I guess that it actually does mean that my story is above-average. We also talked about his dogs, his work, his various pirated programs, & his other writing. He does a lot of collaborations with a romance author. She has an agent, who's asked to look at the first 20,000 words of their novel. So we also talked about me finding an agent. The problem is, my novel is so different from anything that's been written or published before that no one wants to help sell it. Certainly the superficial science fiction elements need to be written out. I'll get back to work on that once I finish "Relayer".

Trish will be waking up soon, so I should probably turn the computer off. I hope she doesn't complain too much about her ear ache, or that she can't drive to work. She may want to walk today. Starting tomorrow, it's supposed to cool off & turn into a mix of rain & snow. Car-girl might be able to give her a ride Monday, but Tuesday we have our dentist trip. I guess she'll just have to pay the drivers. We've stashed $10 in one dollar bills for that purpose.

I'm looking forward to working on "Relayer" today. Ted gave me some good ideas, & I'm also thinking up a lot of them on my own. I can't wait to see how my writing looks on the full dose of Abilify. FUCK SCIENTOLOGY!

Soft Machine feeling for a point of intersection

Yesterday Trish & I went to Pizza Hut for lunch, & she drove. After she got up in the morning, she took a shower. Days off we have cereal for breakfast, so I finished the toasty-o's while she opened the Rice Krispies we bought in Great Falls the last time that we were there. Around 9:30 we went to Waste Fargo to cash our mid-month checks from Karen. We picked up my Scientology-fucking Risperdal at the drugstore on the way home.

Trish drove around 10 to 11. When we arrived, no one else was there, so Trish got her parking spot. We stayed until 1:00, drinking Diet Pepsi, until the cars cleaned out. She had a little bit of trouble parking. She wants to park too far out into the street, 'cause she's afraid of hitting the curb.

After we returned, we went over to Albertson's, to pick up some toilet paper, flour shells, pads, & milk. We had a snack of quesadillos for supper, then I switched off the TV for an hour, so Trish could read "Relayer". Her impression is that it's still too much of a Star Trek story. I'll try to fix that today, & when I have the rewrite done, resub it to Critters, with a note saying that I need to make it Analog-y.

I called Fred while Trish read, & talked about Star Trek. I had difficulty remembering who the producer was.

Trish wanted sex last night, in spite of the fact that she was spotting. She doesn't normally let me have sex during her period, so she must've been pretty horney. I had to resort to the Kim fantasy to become aroused. It's like, I still have enough haldol in my blood (& the blood is in my head) to cause me to have problems with impotence. I suppose that, if this is the only way I can please Trish, & I don't tell her about it, it's OK, but I'm afraid of acting out. I'm hopeful that things will change in a couple more months, once I'm completely switched over to Abilify. I certainly love my Bumble Bee Girl, it's just that the fantasy is so exciting -- mostly 'cause the grass is always greener on the other side of the fence; if I were to divorce Trish & marry Kim -- a nightmare Trish had a couple weeks ago -- I'd get bored with Kim fast enough. I just hope she doesn't make one of her unscheduled stops this afternoon. We want to tell her to phone first, but her deafness makes this a problem. Perky Pam suggested writing a note, & it's in the filing cabinet. I'm not going to let some deaf, dumb & blonde girl ruin our marriage.

Pizza Treat: no Fearless Tacs today

Yesterday, Trish had an appointment with Charlene Upstairs, so we headed on over to the Perky Pam Layout about 9:30. When we arrived, we played War; a quick game that I won. Then Trish played solitaire, up until her appointment time. Once she left, I played Pyramid & Free Cell on the old computer. We had Indian tacos & cinnamon rolls for lunch, a rather doughy meal.

Car-girl was there, & said she was finishing a paper that day, so I told her that I'd sacrifice my TA so that she could finish it. & then we had to split to waste some time: Trish had an appointment with Voc Rehab at 2:00, so she watched the first part of her Aerosmith DVD, while I squeaked clean in the bathtub. When we got there, the councellor said that it's a grey area; that Voc Rehab is there to find a job for you, not to keep it, but she'd have to inquire.

We finally left, around time for Trish's TA, which Car-girl called & cancelled, saying she was sick. Well, it's not a Blanket-man sickness, but it was enough to make Trish paranoid. She took a nap, so that she wouldn't be Cranky Bear, & I got on the phone. The woman at Voc Rehab had told us that we could get rides thru Medicaid. First, I tried Medicaid transport; they denied it; then, I called Medicaid, & 411 gave us a wrong number. Medicaid told us there's a program called Essentials for Employment, that would be able to help Trish with her cab rides (possibly), so we have to call back during office hours.

Trish & I didn't really feel like supper until 7:00, when we had the leftover spaghetti. In the meantime, she worked on dishes & cleaning. I'd started the laundry, a super load, & Trish dryed it.

She read "Relayer" until bedtime. I'm not certain how much of her criticism will be useful, but since I'm not sending the story back out in its current form -- I'm rewriting & Crittering it -- I want to send the story to Dion.

Trish particularly liked the lesbian characters; I suppose that this is because of Willow (from Buffy). They got in there perfectly by accident. When I took the story out of screenplay format, I substituted the crew of the Darwin, the ship in Arn. Since one draft of Arn was done while manic, I put a lot of lesbian sex into it (hypersexuality symptom), so after I threw that version in the trash, the next had a token lesbian in it. This story adds a partner.

I slept fairly soundly, once Trish finished exasperating VADIS. I only took 2 temazapam, which is good: I don't want to get hooked on them.

Today is the day Trish is driving us out to Pizza Hut for lunch. We have to cash our checks from Karen first, then she wants to leave around 1/4 til, in order to avoid the cars in the parking lot. She also wants us to wait until the parking lot is cleared out, before leaving, so Kristy will have to serve us both plenty of pop. I probably will need 3 temazapam tonight. I just hope, & pray to an Unknown god, that everything will be safe, with Trish's driving. I'm also hoping/praying that we'll find her a way to get out to work during the winter.

Other than that, this is just a typical day off. I slept in until 6:00, but probably won't be able to begin work anew on "Relayer" this morning, as the alarm rings in 15 minutes.

I love my Bumble Bee Girl.

Lucy in the Sky w/ Diamod rings

Yesterday morning, Trish was prepared to take the car to work, then saw a few flurries & became worried that she'd be caught in a snow storm, so she called Theresa for a ride. Theresa is the short one, who I've only met once or twice.

I stayed home to write. I started over with a retype of "Relayer", which changed a lot of scenes; the style, if nothing else. I reached the point where the bridge crew is all assembled to deal with the alien, but realized I couldn't present the tech-talk well, without it degenerating into an "As you know, Bob". In the draft I sent Stan, it's on the part of the omniscient narrator. I'm going to have to see what Critters makes of the story. I'm also concerned that if I can't present the Eccles & Popper stuff, the "psychon" will rapidly degenerate into the Star Trek particle of the day, & the story, having originated as a Voyager screenplay, still bears too much the stigma of Star Trek.

I eventually stopped writing, to check my email. Amidst the spam I found a note from Lucy, saying that she is getting married Friday. I know you read this blog, Lucy, so congratulations from the Bumble Bee Bear.

Trish walked home yesterday, & I felt very sorry that she couldn't find a ride home. When she arrived, I fixed some spaghetti immediately, as she'd had no lunch; nothing to eat since her breakfast of pancakes.

She went into the shower once she finished eating, & I sat down to practice the keyboard. I've been playing the chords to Amazing Grace in the left hand, in all available voices on the keyboard. I particularly like the chord change, Dm7, G7. It goes to C after that, but I think perhaps I should go to E-G-C instead of C-E-G, so it'll go up, instead of down.

We cleaned Smelly Bear's cage, & Trish did some other house work before Jeffer Auss came over. I must say, my friend disappointed me. All he did was bring a movie over, then leave as soon as it ended. I wanted him to at least stick around & chat some. If I didn't need his soldering gun I'd probably back off from him.

We watched a little bit of Blues Brothers 2000 before having our bedtime pineapple. Trish wanted to mess around some; she was wearing her black underwear, but all it turned out to be was fondling. I still have too much haldol in my system to not-become impotent at bad times. If this persists after the haldol is no longer in my blood, I can always get a hold of some Viagra.

Trish sees Charlene Upstairs today, so our morning will be at the Layout. Car-girl & I do TA at 1:00, but she's taking Trish to Boys-&-Girls Club at 3:00, so I'll have those 2 hours to work on "Relayer".

Tomorrow Trish wants to drive me to work for a 25% off pizza luncheon buffet. I'm looking forward to it. The weather is supposed to be warm for a couple days, or at least not as cold as it has been, so I'm hoping she'll be able to drive to work some more for a few more days this month. We're turning off the insurance in the winter & reactivating it in the spring.

We also need to sell our camera so we can buy Toastie Bear. David really wasn't thinking when he bought the damn thing.

rejection

I got my shot at the Perky Pam Layout yesterday morning; Tuesday rather than Monday; Perky Pam took Columbo Day off. I talked with Karen a bit about the mighty Insect Slayer; she does get her Britney, but not until Monday. At least it'll make her happy. I'm more concerned with Toasty Bear, as we need to sleep warmly in the winter. It was supposed to have snowed this morning, but I don't think it did; I just think it's bitter cold. Trish may get Theresa to drive her to work.

So after Pam put a spike into my veins, full of Scientology-fucking neuraleptics (& piss on I Ron Steele), I hung aroud the Layout. Mostly, I played Freecell, & picked a difficult game, so it took me awhile to solve it. I talked with Cheri for a little bit, about Battlestar Galactica & wako; his budget restraints & how he wants a flat screen TV, in spite of claiming he can't afford $20 a month for satellite, in order to get TVLand.

I came home after a meal of chicken cacciatori, to find 2 pieces of spam & Analog's rejection of "Relayer". I felt down; I had been really hoping it'd break me into print there. I'm planning to re-make/re-model the thing, starting today, by putting it into 2 different Windows, then exposing it to typewriter torment; whiplash, girl-child, in the dark.

I came home & sat around, waiting for Car-girl. The way the driving situation is working, Brian will be doing it one day a week, 'cause Car-girl can't. Anyway, we went to Pizza Hut for Diet Pepsi & Car-girl's salad bar, then she dropped me off at the eye doctor's office & swung back around to pick up Trish. I think today she might have to find a ride with a driver, as Car-girl has conflicting clients. Christy gave Car-girl her salad free, & my pop, which didn't significantly drive up my pressures at the eye doctor's office, though I don't get new frames, unless I also pay 100 buckadingdongs for the lens.

When I returned home, I told Trish the sad news, & showed her the slip. It was a personal slip, with no comments. I felt depressed, & didn't feel like cooking that evening, so we ate out at Crazy Tacos.

When we came home, Trish started her daily cleaning project, this time the bathroom, while I watched disk one of Return of the King. It was real atomic. When Trish finally finished, we watched Good Times (which I'd never seen before) on Keith's favorite channel, then switched to the 70s show. We ate our pineapple & Trish exasperated the Vast Active Destructive Intelligent Systems in bed, which was real atomic.

Once Trish is at work this morning, I plan to rewrite "Relayer", then run it thru Critters. I think one problem is that it began as a Star Trek: Voyager screenplay, & even with the lesbian spaceship captain & the vast, revolving spaceship, there's still too many Trekky cliches in the story. Like for example, the little scanners that they use, in spite of the explanation, are still too obviously tricorders. Also, I think that the style is too wooden, especially in some of the dialogue. I'm sure lesbian characters & religious overtones are not sufficient for Stan to have rejected the story like that. I'm also wondering if he had problems with the scientific side of the story, which was actually drawn from philosophy, albeit an area of philosophy that intrudes on both science & religion. Doing a 2-window re-make, assuming that I can figure out how to do it, then a return trip thru Critters might be the way to go. So far, I've been able to stay in the group 'cause of my participation ratio, but if my vision doesn't worsen, I may be able to stay in the group once it's down to 100 or less, by doing weekly email crits in the afternoon, when my vision is at it's best.

It may take awhile, if I opt for the retype, but it may prove worth it. Of course, the Abilify will change my writing, I'm certain it'll FUCK SCIENTOLOGY, but so far, it seems to be moving in the direction of improvement, even though this blog post showed a certain amount of schizophrenic loose associations.

shot day: one of the last

Today is shot day, not by default (that's Monday), but 'cause Perky Pam took the day off, it being Columbo Day, & here I was, without any. Hell, I haven't smoked dem God-made herb since December 03. This was right before one of my numerous eye surgeries (11 so far), & when I was collaborating with Ted the first time, on "Trinities". We still haven't sold the story, but it conceivably could be turned into a novel.

After breakfast, Trish went out to start her car. However, the windows were frosted over, so she decided she needed a ride. I told her to call Pizza Hut, rather than Friendly Fred's Taxi, so she got on the phone to Say Bra & wound up with Kristy coming at the last minute.

I worked on the Enterzone chapter of Mind-Warp until lunch, but it was difficult material to work with. I'm trying to shift the story away from science fiction & some of the more blatant comic book parodies, so I worked on framing a couple of those.

I ate lunch at Feed My Sheep, where, fortunately, there was no preacher that day. I went to the store afterwards for some spaghetti -- we're having it tonight -- & some yogurt & generic orange soda. I met Trish's old friend from McRonald's, Lenika, on the way over to the store. She's working in the motel where all the people building Wal-Mart are staying, now.

When I came home, I worked on Mindstorm some more, & basically, for the next few days, rewrite the Reality chapter, & after that, it's all downhill, until the end. Next chapter that needs a fair amount of rewriting is the Hitman S. Hunter one, & mostly, it being Hunter, he needs to be doing more drugs; an orgy of drugs. I really wish I could've done a complete draft of the story on U-boat, but fear arrest: I've been writing so many emails to Congress about medical marijuana, that I'm afraid I have my name on a list somewhere, & I'm sure writing emails extremely critical of the Bush administration to a girlfriend in China doesn't help, either.

Trish called home from work around 3:05, & sounded pretty down. She said that she was getting mixed messages. It having warmed up since the morning, it was OK for her to walk home, & for me to sit on the porch, so I listened to some old CDs while I waited. I really got to replace the midrange in the old Rectilinears. That's my next speaker-building project.

So Trish came home with a couple trays of vegetables, for both of us. She said that she'd had a panic attack at work. She was worried about getting home in the winter; that her boss said that she could get a ride to, but not from. I talked with her awhile longer, & it turned out that the drivers could give her rides, if she waited around long enough, & she could either work longer -- she's afraid of losing her SSI; that's unrealistic -- or else sit around & sip soda until someone could drive her.

I played my keyboard, while Trish showered. I worked on playing the chord structure for Amazing Grace in the left hand, in a dozen different voices, until Trish came out of the shower, with her softy hair falling down to her shoulders & past, a little flat, 'cause it was wet.

I fixed some chicken for supper, while Trish worked on Shout-ing out a stain & gathering together the whites. After she started a load of laundry, I had her fix the mashed potatoes, as she's better at it than I am, although we needed to add some additional milk, as they turned out lumpy.

After supper, we went down in the basement, to do laundry, while Trish watched her older Britney Spears DVD. Although I think that her music is OK, I'm not really enamored of her, but put up with it, to please Trish. She called Karen about the ride situation, but I think it's mostly covered; she just has to talk to Darla.

A little before we came back upstairs, Keith rang the phone. He lamented not being able to get TVLand in Chester, not being able to afford Dish TV, & then launched into how many 100-disc changers he has. I finally asked to speak with Bonnie; Trish talked with her too; & we finally ate our pears (from the Dollar Store in the mall).

Trish & I snuggled in bed, along with all her bears. I didn't fall asleep right away, I'd only taken 2 temazapam, so I tried to talk with her about Mind-Warp & her problems, too, but she started to have anxiety over her anxiety medicine, asking me if I think she should switch from Klonopin to Xanax. (Which does not ruin lives, skinny dog to the contrary.) I finally had to tell her that I didn't want to hear another word out of her about her medication. We both fell into an uneasy silence, which she finally broke, by asking me, "Can I ask you something?", so I asked, "Is it about medicine?", & when she answered, "Yes," I said, "No". I finally fell asleep, woke up at 3:00 AM, went back to sleep, & slept until 6:00. Today I walk to the Perky Pam Layout. I want to be ready.

manic Sunday

Yesterday I woke up a little early, again, blogged for awhile, then fixed the delicious & nutritious breakfast of pancakes that the Bumble Bee Girl appreciates so much.

Since it was below freezing when I woke up & checked weather.com, I asked Trish if she knew how to work the defroster. Her learning disability has made driving difficult for her, on top of which, she has a blind spot on her left, due to her Marfan syndrome. When we got out to the car, we found the button, but it wouldn't heat, so Trish called Karen, who said, "Run it for 15 minutes, but it wastes a lot of gas".

After Trish left for work, I played around with that stupid Hot or Not page some more. I confessed to Lucy in an email yesterday that I thought I was depressed. I now think it's anxiety as I seem instead to be manic, or at least so the hypersexuality would suggest.

I finally turned the thing off, & had lunch: leftover chicken & a couple slices of toast. After lunch, I worked on "Requiem for a Black Angel", but the ending still seems to lack finality. However, I went to the next chapter, about Enterzone, & had little to do there, beyond editing. This is the most sexual chapter yet, what with Lead's wanting to experiment with a 3-some (which never materializes), & the Lewd Outfit Ball, based on a biennial orgy they actually used to hold at the U of C, one of the final trappings of the SVNA. I'm unsure whether I'll go back to these chapters today, or move on to something different. What new material I'm adding seems strong, & I owe this to Abilify, so FUCK SCIENTOLOGY!

When Trish drove home, she still had problems parking, though by the time it was over, it was perfect. We sat around & ate veggies from the salad bar, while watching reruns of the A-Team on TVLand. Trish did her housecleaning after supper. She also took out some time to work on her blog.

We made mad love before bedtime, but a call from Fred interrupted us. We let the machine get it. I took 3 sleeping pills, 'cause we were going to bed early, & I didn't want to wake up too early. I slept until a little before 6:00, which is about right for me.

Hot or Not? (time-wasting)

After Bridget left with Trish for work yesterday, I waited for her call, then read Science News Online and Scifiweekly.com. My interest in science transcends my interest in science fiction. SF is simply a good way to speculate, albeit with characters and a plot. Yes, plot, unfortunately: the New Wave, 60s science fiction, has long since been abandoned, for genre norms. At least I should be able to introduce Farber & Two Ways to Analog, in whatever form.

At lunchtime, I went over to Feed My Sheep, then out to the grocery store, for ingredients to my nacho bake. It's a recipe that I got off the back of a macaroni-&-cheese dinner. I spent $16 + change, & nearly exhausted our food stamp card.

Then I got online & wasted a lot of my time looking at photos of girls on hotornot.com. I'm not sure why I do this. It's a waste of time, & the few women with whom I've made contact, have been con artists, save for Katrina, who commited suicide.

When I finally got to "Requiem for a Black Angel", the "new" chapter 10 of Mind-Warp, I mostly just edited the thing. This made me realize what needs to be done, before I move on to some material that's closer to final draft status. The main problem with the story as-is, is that I'm dealing with combining 2 strata, one in which Nikki is Lead's girlfriend, & the other in which he's still obsessed with Sophie. Beyond that, the scene with the monad needs to be fleshed out.

I finished the draft about the time Trish called home from work, at 3:00. She's been having problems dealing with Saturdays. One of the bosses told her to just keep doing dishes until 3:00, do the silverware, & then go home, in spite of which, according to Trish, Bridget doesn't want her to leave. I hope that she's not so concerned with seeing her Sweet Pookie Bear that it's interfering with her job.

Trish got a ride home, with Becky. She then ran over to Albertson's to pick up some things, including a couple of bottles of Gatorade that were on special. She skipped lunch for a Power Bar that she bought on her shopping trip. She took her shower around 4:30.

Since my vision's so bad, I wanted her in the kitchen with me when I cooked. This led to a big argument about what to do with the hamburger grease. I said putting it in a spaghetti drainer & pouring hot water over it shouldn't cause the pipes to become clogged; she disagreed; we both turned into Cranky Bear, until a phone call to Denise settled it: pour it into a coffee can & throw it outside.

I started the hamburger & macaroni while Trish was still in the shower. When she got out we started to mix up the ingredients, & assemble them in a casserole dish. I used the big red metal one, instead of the glass one, at Trish's suggestion, spraying it with the Albertson's version of Perky Pam.

While it cooked Trish ran over to the buckadingdong store for dish soap. It was ready when she finally returned. We had plenty of leftovers, & put some in the freezer.

After I took my bath, Trish did a little cleaning. Charlene has her on a new program where she cleans for 1/2 an hour every day. This will free up her days off for fun things.

We finally watched Battlestar Galactica, but I hadn't left the tape running long enough (it was 2 hours, not one), which really disappointed us. After that we watched an episode of the A-Team on TVLand & went to bed.

I woke up around 5:20 this morning. I'd also woke up around 2:30. I had a dream that Trish had re-set the alarm clock, & that she took her pill, then went back to bed. Eventually, I slept some more. When I got up early, Trish was still awake, & wanted to cuddle, but I told her that I couldn't sleep any longer.

I checked my email, erased a lot of spam, & mostly just had a Critters weekly ping, & a note from the Dazed Poetry Webring saying that they were moving to a different site. As for the weekly ping, I noted that there'd been one review of TC. Ted never forwarded it to me, so it must've been from someone who thought that it was horror. I'm looking forward to hearing from the SF crowd on it, 'cause I think it's real Analog-y. However, I want Ted to do his own draft before sending it to me. Perhaps it's good that Ted screwed up, because I want to finish Mindstorm before returning to work on genre materials. With my vision failing, I may have to rely on collaborations to finish some of my projects.

I also wrote to Joey this morning, to give her a little political background to my paranoia. I'm glad that the Foley scandal hit when it did, as if we put the Dems in Congress, it'll hobble Bush until the election.

Becky & Bridget

Yesterday, I slept fairly well, having taken 3 sleeping pills the night before, as Trish wanted to go to bed early. Trish had a real terrible time getting out of bed, & slept in until 8:30, then wanted to take a nap after breakfast. She finally took a shower, then did some cleaning. We went shopping after the soup kitchen, & bought milk, yogurt, fruit & frozen vegetables on the foodstamp card. Trish bought a supermarket tabloid with some of her spending cash.

In the afternoon, I picked up my Depakote & Cosopt. The eyedrops were out of refills; Boes hadn't faxed back yet; Safely finally phoned in the prescription. Trish did some cleaning; her therapist has her on a new schedule that will have her cleaning 1/2 hour every day, so she can have her days off free. We had chicken for supper; 3 pieces, with one left over for my lunch, tomorrow. Trish cooked the potatoes.

After supper, we went downstairs, to do the laundry, while Trish watched Britney Spears. One thing I did was call Ted & spend a long time talking to him about my/our writing; the other was finally just watch TV upstairs by myself, as the Britney Spears was really starting to get to me. I love Trish, but we don't always have the same taste in music.

The dishwasher went wonky while we were watching That 70s Show, kept running & running & running & wouldn't cycle, so Trish stayed up until it finished. I fell asleep in my chair, fell right asleep in bed, then woke up at 3:00, but then slept until 6:30.

It's raining today, so Trish was terribly worried about finding a ride. She was going to ask Fred, who's already said he's "not a taxi"; we're both getting bad vibes off Instant Carma, so I finally had her call Becky. Bridget picked her up at 10:30, & she'll be home at 3:00. I'll be going to lunch shortly, & will pick up some ingredients for a nacho cheese bake recipe with what's left on the food stamp card. I look forward to working on my novel chapter once I'm thru with lunch & shopping, though I had some anxiety trying to read my email: my vision seems to be worsening. I hope & pray that I'll be able to finish a few of my important projects, maybe with Ted's help.

old day yesterday

...but it's a new day now. According to the deluxe & delightful Trish, the old day at night produced some violent thunderstorms, but it didn't fry my computer, like it did last time.

The old day involved a lot of running around, to different appointments. Trish slept in until 8:30 yesterday -- she's doing the same thing now -- & had a breakfast of Albertson's Toasted Oats, as did I, a couple hours earlier. She sat around & drank her coffee, diluted with decaf, until I had my appointment with Joe.

That went OK. Mostly, it helped with the anger at Car-girl, for not driving Ms. Trish. She has PTSD from her car wreck. Also, Joe said that paying Brian to teach Trish to drive is a good option. Actually, she does know how to drive, it's just a matter of overcoming her anxiety. We ate least have to teach her how to get out to the mall, the Kame-Apart, & the incomplete Wally World.

When I got out of Joe's office, we had to go to Subway for a real atomic submarine sandwich with Karen. We needed to fill out our applications for the State Conference on Mental Health, where professional psychiatrists laugh at Scientologists. Even though they're no laughing matter; they come into courts armed with expensive attorneys & try to take medications off the market. They're ignorant pigs, & the whole lot can go fuck themselves, including Ron Steele, an aspiring Elron who can't spell.

Then Trish had her appointment with Charlene Upstairs, while I waited in the outer office. I changed the radio station 'cause it was all Kentuckified & Southern. The college station had a Neil Diamond marathon, followed by some of the stuff that's typical for them.

Since Trish had her eye appointment at 3:10, we went to El Taco Loco, drank some more soda, & talked about what Charlene had said. Mostly, I think she left Trish more confused than when Karen talked to her, but we did agree on a date night, which we'd been sort of doing at Crazy Taco's in the first place; take 2 people romantic...

So we went over to the optometrist's office, where Trish picked out some new frames, then on to the bank, to take out some spending cash.

When we came home, Car-girl had left a message on the answering machine, about Boys & Girls Club, but it was too late, & we're both kind of pissed at her, anyway, so Trish decided to ignore it.

We had quiet time up until supper, when I fixed mac-&-cheese, the real stuff, with the cheese in the pouch, though Trish had to complain about my portion size. At least Abilify is weight-neutral.

We wound up going down in the basement to do laundry, while I waited for Ted to call back. I reached his wife, but wanted to tell him, yeah, go ahead & do an urgent manuscript replacement. He'd accidentally stuck H on the story type, so if he doesn't change that, we're going to receive a lot of reviews we can't use, & will need to resub it, anyway.

We watched Heavy Metal while the machine did its work, then some of Trish's Britney Spears stuff; the old DVD, a recording of an old TV special.

After we got in bed, I got a hard-on & Trish started playing with it. We talked about Kimothy Leery some, just a fantasy (& no Plastic dilettante), but very little stuff came out, mostly 'cause the haldol's still in my blood & the blood is in my head. Haldol causes sexual side-effects, so I'm waiting for it to wear out of my system, before I even think about Viagra. I think it's an encouraging sign that I was able to get off last night, even though the fantasy recedes into something to be avoided. Pam gives me one more 1/2 shot on Tuesday (she's taking Columbo Day off & I wish I had some), then 1/4 shot twice more, & then I'll be totally Abilificated in a very Scientology-fucking way, & let's laugh at Elron.

The only other project, beyond "Movement & Repose", that I want to do with Ted is to finish "Ghost & the Machine". John labelled it a "fantasy" because he believes transferring a mind from carbon to silicon is impossible, but... a story about an android that has no magic in it? John just proves once again that he doesn't know what he's talking about. At this point -- & apparently he doesn't believe I'm worse off than Jerome -- it's a matter of prioritizing my writing, to finish the stuff I really care about in order of importance, as I'm almost completely unable to read now & writing is only possible with huge fonts, on top of which, I have to crane my neck to use my trifocals on the screen. I wish my little brother wasn't such a damn know-it-all. He's never seen me since I've had this retinal problem. Maybe I'll send him email after my next eye appointment, which is on Tuesday.

Carma dharma

Car-girl has really hurt my wife bad, all over her "near fatal car accident". Tuesday, when I did TA with her, she complained that "Trish almost hit a white car". I know I can't see, but Trish couldn't see it, either. Besides, if she wants to complain, she should've done it at the time it happened, rather than waiting until the next week & expressing it to me, then go on to proclaim Trish a "dangerous driver" -- which she's not -- & start screaming over her car wreck, saying I couldn't understand. Of course I understand. I understand that Car-girl is a coward & a hypocrite -- when Trish & I were driving with her, she hit a car, then expects me to be sympathetic when she backs out of a commitment that she voluntarily made. Which she also tried to say Trish had demanded it of her, when that's just not true.

There may be good news, though. We went to the Layout Downstairs, after I'd confessed to Trish that Car-girl was backing out on her, & Brian said that he might be able to do it, especially if we paid him, but he'd have to talk to Karen Upstairs first.

She's taking us out for a sandwich this noon, so we can talk to her then. I also want to discuss what to do about selling that piece of junk/digital camera Dave gave us for a wedding camera; it's totally useless & I don't want to look at it any more.

I have to see Joe Upstairs today myself, with the Iron Claw House being closed, so Trish'll have to wait in the lobby until we're done. Once we're done with lunch, Trish has an emergency appointment she made with Charlene Upstairs, about Car-girl & her driving. Then at 3:00 she has an eye appointment, & is eligeble for new frames.

After Iron Claw House closed yesterday -- we had the Mary Surprise (tater tot casserole) -- I stopped in at El Taco Loco for a large pop. I sat around by the door, the place I proposed to Trish (take 2 people romantic), & sucked down a couple of the things. When I reached home, I found the Dudes in my mailbox. I immediately put the discs in the machine & sat around waiting for Trish, while Dave Szabo modulated his electric guitar. When she finally returned home, it happened a lot faster than I expected: Theresa had given her a ride.

After supper, we cleaned Smelly Bear's cage, then I went channel-surfing until Trish decided that she wanted to see The Parent Trap (re-make/re-model) on Starz, so we wound up going to bed at 10:00.

I still woke up around 5:30, with a monster hard-on from needing to piss. I don't see why this happens. I'm not drinking any water after dinner, save for a glass or 2 to swallow my pills. If it keeps happening, I'll take 3, instead of 2, for a night or so.

I'm still mad at Car-girl, & want to keep some distance from her for awhile. Tuesday next week, I have an eye appointment at 2:40, so I'm using that as an excuse. I don't see what Car-girl is getting so paranoid over. If she's going to get so scared of driving with Trish, shouldn't we be scared of driving with her? She's the one who hit a car. Trish mostly needs help with parking lots & knows how to drive. She just needs to get her confidence back up. I hope that she can do that. If we could get to the Clinic by ourselves, it'd be a lot more convenient. Followed by the mall, Kame-Apart, & the new (& unfinished) Wally-world. Trisha helped her do this, she knows how, she just needs to fight her fear. Car-girl is succumbing to her own fears, so for now, bi-bi, miss American pie. I'll see you when I'm not angry anymore.

Instant Carma's going to get you

Yesterday, during our TA time -- which followed some really good writing time for me -- on the way to Pizza Hut, Car-girl announced that she couldn't be Trish's driving instructor; that she had a "near-fatal car accident" & thought Trish's driving is "dangerous" & doesn't want back in the car with her. She says I "don't understand; can't understand" because I've never had a near-fatal car accident. True, but I did nearly lose my life to a pill OD, which I took on an impulse, so she's not the only person who came close to death. I really feel she isn't giving Trish a fair chance. Also, Trish will be heartbroken, crushed, & possibly angry when she finds out. When I tried to explain to Car-girl that one of Trish's co-workers labelled her driving "overly cautious" she asked if I'd seen how she'd turned wide & "nearly hit that white car", which is, I was in the backseat with my usual near-blindness, but if it frightened Car-girl , she should've said something when it happened, not waiting 1/2 a week to tell Trish's husband that something had gone wrong. The point is that she didn't hit the car, & maybe all this means is that Trish should work on her turning more.

I'm mad at Car-girl. I think she's letting her fears master her, the same way Trish's fear masters her. I've driven with worse drivers. I've driven with 3-wheeler Keeler & a lotof people who were thoroughly descoobied on Narcohol, & I survived. I don't think Car-girl has any business complaining to me about Trish's driving, but I do hope Trish will find someone who can help her improve her driving, so she won't be afraid of going up to the hospital & the K-Mart anymore.

The news cast a lurid pallor over the rest of the day, even including my time with Jeffer Auss, who came over & fixed the final rear speaker for us. The L-pad has levelled out the frequency response in the rear, so that the piezo tweeters no longer sound shrill. Also, with the 6-db pad removed, I think that the efficiency of the things has improved.

Besides that, I had a good day writing. I killed Nekbael, & made it seem like a hallucination. Now I have to go rescue her from Hell. After that, the vorkling Finny changes into Claude & moves to Enterzone. Now I have to rework the novel from the beginning, as I like the direction I'm currently taking -- make the character more aware that he's hallucinating. It's not my hallucinations (except for some interesting parallels), but it's more realistically like how it feels to hallucinate.

The other arts -- music & painting -- have been put very low on my list of priorities. I have a piece of scar tissue on the macula of my left eye, left over from an old retina surgery, & run the risk of total blindness if it's removed. I'm blind in the other eye, & am running 20/200 in the eye that I do see out of, so I'm writing while I still can, & want to finish my work in order of greatest importance, before the night closes in. This means I often won't play the keyboard or paint on the front porch. Fairly soon, we're going to have to move the paints back downstairs, when winter hits; it does paint no good to be frozen.

Perhaps my vision is why "Phoenix Without Ashes" (a tribute to the real Hog) seems muddy to me. I've come up with this scheme to overpaint it with tempera & then use spray varnish, like I had been. Problem is, it's framed, & I don't want to ruin the frame.

At least I can jam with Fred once a week or so. I may simply set aside the time between Trish's departure & phone call in the morning to play the keyboard. Even though I have some faith in my wife that transcends bad Carma, I still worry.

I hope Trish finds someone else to drive with her. Car-girl is just over-doing the "near-fatal accident" routine, IMO. All we are saying is, "Give Trish a chance".

insecurity under all that Bumble Bee Beauty

Last night, before the recap of Battlestar Galactica began, Trish had a long talk with me, about her insecurity. She's doing well on the outside; inside she wants to hide, especially at night: she goes to bed early, for fear that she won't sleep enough. She sleeps until 8:00 (usually), sometimes 7:30. That's the case today; she has to call Voc Rehab about making an appointment to see about a voucher for cab rides to Pizza Hut in the winter.

She also nearly had a car wreck, driving home from work yesterday. Apparently, she ran a yellow light, & some Drugster Truck Drivin' Man in a reefer hauler tried to cut in front of her. She stopped 1/2-way thru the intersection; he stopped; let her go.

Other than that, it was a normal day yesterday. I fixed pancakes, like usual, then began work on my novel, once Trish left. She's been trying something different: rather than waiting until 3:00 to have lunch, she leaves a bit early & has a salad bar.

I think that this may be the reason why she's been wanting to rush home from work. She also wamts to see me -- which is good; I know it means she loves me -- & bad; I sometimes need time to torment my typewriter. Or it torments me. Whatever. I am a driven man, & great & terrible things, both, live within my mind.

I decided to go ahead & at least use parts of #10, just for the sake of not retyping them from memory, so I went ahead & inserted the file into "Requiem for a Black Angel", then found I had too much erasing to do before lunch, so I went over to Feed My Sheep for lunch. A piece of b-b-q chicken, a salad, some veggies, a bowl of bean soup, & a dessert (which I probably should start to skip). I may lose weight now that I'm off haldol, in spite of which, FUCK SCIENTOLOGY!

So I came home, & started on the erasing. I'm trying for a less ambiguous & schizophrenic look, substituting instead something where the character is almost aware that he's hallucinating. The problem I faced -- & which made me quit for the day -- is that some of this belongs in #9 (the original), so I'm either going to have to do some copying-&-pasting, or else explain why the redundancy exists. In any case, I'll have to start over once I reach the end, as in general, I'm trying to shift the story away from the SF/comic book idea that the Dream Police live anywhere but inside the character's head. Then there is the matter of adding a happy ending. I have my work cut out for me today, after Trish walks to work. I want me & Car-girl to pick her up during TA time. I'm also sacrificing my Thursday appointment, so Trish can do a little more driving -- & Car-girl has to remember that Trish can drive & isn't dangerous; she just needs help with parking. The copz initialized savage dread in her when she bumped into that van. I want it to go away.

Once I'd finished scrolling thru the chapter & eliminating Love & Death (that story wasn't even a shadow of God & Sisyphus), I watched our Peter Gabriel video, as I'd heard it in the store after lunch, where I'd picked up a few items.

Trish arrived home safely, apart from the scare by the diesel, & parked her car adequately OK, but not completely OK. She's still having trouble judging distances.

After supper, we turned the TV on, to the Skiffy Channel, to see about our space opera. I channel-surfed a bit, then while we watched Stargate Trish stopped paying attention to the show & opened up about her insecurity. She wants more medicine, but she's already on a lot of medicine, & has to learn that you can't always reach for salvation in a pill bottle. She needs to give the stuff she's on a little more time to work, & to talk her problems out with her therapist.

At bedtime we snuggled, along with the 4 teddy bears she says "protect" us. However, it became really hot, so I turned off the pilot light. Trish got a little paranoid about it, but finally acquiesced. Now it's Kool, but it's not Super-Kool. I can cope with a sweater. I'll turn it back on once the weather cools down again. The dreams last night took me to ideas for foreplay with Trish. I hope the ED is due to haldol. If not, I can get a 'script for Viagra. Then I can really shoot the orgasm-death.

I wish Robbie Matthews would finally put QA thru the queue at ASIM. He's been deliberately delaying it, since I blew up at him. I wasn't blowing up at him, I was blowing up at a reader who used insults, sarcasm, & ridicule to reject the story, besides being totally ignorant about science.

Crazy Tacos in the evening

Yesterday things went pretty much like normal for a Sunday. Trish got up around 7:30, & I fixed pancakes. The original idea there was to give her a large breakfast to last until 3:00, but now she's eating salad bars as an early lunch.

Trish drove to work yesterday, so she called around 1/4 till, while I'd highlighted a passage in Mindstorm that needed to be cut. I'm trying to make the writing more realistic & use psychological causation, instead of near-future pseudo-scientific causation. For lunch, I used up the leftover beans from our chicken dinner Thursday night & put them on toast. I checked my email, & found a "Critters misses you" note, so I went thru a lot of eye-strain reading some guy's Ch. 1 to the 2nd volume in a trilogy. I want to stay in the group, but my vision is so bad that it's hard to do crits. Fearless Taco doesn't understand this. He thinks my vision is as good as Jerome's. Hell, I'm legally blind. John just likes to be an authority on everything, including the Biggolith & his skinny dog.

After I finished the crit, I went out onto the porch -- cooler there; we've turned on the pilot light -- & talked with wako thru the wire, up until 2:00, when I signed off, to wait for Trish's call. She had pretty much finished at 2:00, but elected to stick around until almost 2:30. The green pickup had taken her parking spot, so she parked in front of the church.

For supper, we went over to El Taco Loco, even though neither of us had Crazy Tacos. I had an En-cha-Treat-o & Trish a chicken enchilado, then we split an order of nachos.

Down in the basement, Trish did some whites & some coloreds, both of them small loads. We took the telephone down with us, & Donna called during the Buffy-fest.

When we'd finished the laundry, we shot the orgasm-death. I still had problems with ED, even though the haldol has been cut in 1/2. Dr. Nolan says that, if I need it, he'll phone in a 'script for Viagra, but I want to make sure it's the haldol, first.

The Doors + Screwy Bear

Trish drove to work a little early yesterday, so she could have a salad bar for lunch. Although she insists lettuce sticks to her dentures, she eats vegetables & macaroni salad with eggs & sunflower seeds on top. This on top of our traditional breakfast of pancakes. She called about 10 to 10:00, to let me know she was safe.

Yesterday I worked on Mindstorm before lunch, & shifted the scene where Leadbeater first steals the monad to the Ch. where he first meets Otis Bender. I'm planning on having Kaos kill Nekbael in a whole new chapter. I owe all this to Abilify, so FUCK SCIENTOLOGY!

After lunch at the Soup Kitchen, I went to Home Barkus & picked up some duct tape for Trish's foot, then a diet Pepsi at McLean's.

Fred came over around 1/4 after 1:00 -- shortly after Kim showed up, no doubt hoping to score & vorkle. I said, "wait for friend. Later," so she took off.

Then Fred arrived. He tried to screw in the screws that the Home Barkus had sold me for the door to the basement -- the appliance guys had noticed that some of the screws were missing, when they moved in the washing machine. Unfortunately, the holes were too loose, so he went off to buy some new ones. The ones at the bottom ran into concrete, so he screwed them in at an angle & said that he'd bring over a file the next time he was here. Then I played Amazing Grace on the keyboard, over & over, trying to memorize the melody.

After Fred left, I waited for Trish. She called around 3:00, but took a long time to arrive here -- she'd set her bags down underneath the phone at work, & was afraid that they'd been stolen.

She took her shower shortly afterward, then played Penguins for awhile. We started to cook the steak around 5:20.

Guess who shows up when we're eating? Kim. I told her, "Busy. Eat. Later", so after supper, before the Buffy marathon began, I typed a letter to her, explaining that we want her to call first, rather than just ringing the doorbell.

Joe called back sometime around the first episode of Buffy last night. He kept trying to tell me there's all this amazing technology out there for the blind, but I'm not certain if I'm going to follow up on it, beyond mentioning it to the eye doctor. We also talked about David a little bit. The issue of his sanity didn't really come up, beyond my maintaining that the government wiretaps will certainly catch up to them. I don't want Dave's number because he screams at me, & especially, his wife hates us because of our "experimental addictive antidepressants". Joe talked to Trish a little bit, & then we returned to the 6th season of Buffy.

I nodded off some during the Buffy-fest. I think it might have been the temazapam from the night before -- but I slept until the alarm went off at 6:30 today. Perhaps the Abilify is kicking in.