burnt out ash 420 man

Last nite, we elected to attempt exacerbation of VADIS without Viagra. It wasn't nearly as intense as the real thing, the nite before -- yet Bumble Bee Girl has me worried: the constant fantasies, which in their own right aren't necessarily harmful; instead it's the intent to act them out. I want her to desist until after we've been thru all our therapy. I do not want her to ruin our few remaining friendships.

Yesterday, we attended the Layout, where I pigged down 2 donuts, not realizing that they wouldn't serve lunch until 2:00. We went to the bank afterwards for grocery money, then picked up a couple movies at Creative Leisure. We had leftover No-Bake for supper, then the worst, most dreaded cleaning chore for both of us: Ula-tek's cage. Afterwards, we watched the 2nd movie, which I fell asleep in the middle of: 4 Seroquel the nite before, minus Abilify, equalled a semi-sleepless nite: up at 4:20, plan on returning to bed again in a bit.

If I am going to awaken late nite/early morning this way, I should find something more constructive than Ho or No.

Rabbitfuck: "Fantasy, fantasy, fantasy...

...he's probably in there now, having his nervous breakdown & writing to VADIS about it."

Which really hurt, an imaginary relationship which really alienated me from all my friends. I became a pariah; what other reason for writing suicide notes to GADIS? The UC faculty loved me; I was brilliant; the students hated me; I was a reject.

Now, I've found my one true love -- compounded by my Risperdal; even with Viagra orgasm is difficult. So we entertain fantasies. Trish wants to act some of them out, but the last time that happened, it mind-warped both of us. So was the orgasm worth it? Yes, it reduced her jealousy somewhat; no, it simply gave her reasons to do something ultimately destructive.

I don't know. I'm caught in the middle.

Other than that, Sunday had no real difference from other Sundays. I woke up in the middle of the night again, hence took a nap when Trish did, then watched Britney for the zillionth time. After supper we watched porno vids until we were prepared to make out.

I'm hoping to get off Risperdal, due to the side-effects: OD (orgasm death). We'll know on the 7th.

I accidentally missed an Abilify Sunday morning. For this reason, I slept until 7:30 this morning, in spite of a 4:20 potty stop. (Actually, it was wetty.)

return of Kimothy Leery

So yesterday, Trish took ill. She left for work as usual on the Invisible Taxi, then 15 minutes later Bridget gave her a ride home. I suggested a nap, then fixed a couple chili dogs for myself & a plain hot dog for my beautiful Bumble Bee Girl.

Then the arguing began: we'd had some real atomic sex a couple nites ago, predicated upon some kinky sexual fantasies. She suggested I preferred the Philip K. Fantasy to her. I said no, it's bi-bi, Kim; has been that way for awhile now.

However, when I carried the garbage out in the harsh winter landscape of 6" snow, who should appear but Kimothy? Leery of a Killer (a couple had escaped prison), augmented by blindness, I knew Savage Dread, & didn't wait for her to meet me, just went indoors -- only to argue some more.

I was really too distraught to work on "Silence", so I surfed Ho or No. Found some interesting hos. I finally fixed some macaroni & cheese for supper, then watched Battlestar Galactica, the original mini-series.

Fell asleep partway thru, but then, haven only taken 3 Seroquels, wound up waking up at 3:13, finally got up at 3:54. Tonite I take 4 again; mellow this schiz back to reality.

Up all nite again on Ho or No, I nonetheless found anyone to chat with. The addition of marriage? you wanna? to my keywords has wreaked havoc on my fantasy life, Philip K. or otherwise.

sickness will surely take the Mindstorm...

...where Mindstorms can't usually go: Trish & I have both been hit hard by hypersexuality, which so far has led to bizarre fantasies, no acting out. Trish has reluctantly agreed to the Philip K. Fantasy to be allowed on my account, but not hers. Meanwhile, the D. Fantasy looms again: mimsy borograves of orgasmic pleasure on her part. Flirtation on her part. Not to ever leave her for another -- how did all this come to be in the mind of a Catholic boy? It'll vanish as soon as the meds kick in...

...which reminds me: I finally slept well last nite: up until 6:30.

So I fixed Trish breakfast, we had our coffee, then she left -- & came back home: right before work, she had an embarrassing accident. The taxi lady called, she got there on time, then came home with Bridget, who she accidentally gave her $10 to, not her $1. Bridget admitted it, & will pay her back.

Once home, I advised the Bumble Bee Girl to take a nap. I'll fix lunch shortly, then maybe spend the afternoon watching Battlestar Galactica.

the evil bitch monster of sci-fi

I missed the LAC meeting yesterday -- forgot that this is a short month. Instead I stayed home & read some more of Mark's novel. It was a re-make/re-model of chunk #1. I ate a sandwich & a bowl of soup for lunch.

Then I had TA with Carma-dharma (no relation to George). We trucked down to Wally World, to buy 40 buckadingdongs worth of food. We then perambulated to Pizza Hut, where Carma & I had a salad bar.

Earlier that day, a nasty Critter caused me to complain to ye Olde Critter Cap-n. No redeeming merit. She loathed absolutely everything about the story -- then aburt took her side this morning! Frak "unbelievable characters" & "unbelievable science". I told aburt to give her what she deserved. Evil bitch-monster of death. Willow in silhouette, tongue-nipple teasing. Kennedy: hot.

Trish came out of the dishroom to inform us that she was getting off early; sickness had infected her.

& we both like the Double-D Fantasy. Is encouraging her a sign that I'm manic?

So when we came home, I fixed pork stir fry (sort of). She had to relax, so we watched Clone Wars on Home Ox Boffo, then she went to bed early.

I joined Trish a few hours later, after the Fantastic Foursome. I yearned the Fantastic Threesome, so with Savage Dread I exacerbated VADIS.

I woke up at 4:00 this morning, only to discover that the Internet had been switched off, so instead of surfing Cyberia, I rewrote "Silence". I returned to bed around 6:00, went back to sleep at 6:30, & got out of bed at 8:00.

The snowjob outside is frightening.

Philip D. Fantasy

I finally had the chance to catch up on my sleep last nite: 3 Seroquel; I'm now allowed up to 4 -- the most sedative antipsychotic known to man; it shoots up to a center in my head, & then I'm better off than dead.

Haven't done much but sit around surfing Hot or Not (Ho or No?) looking for buxom babes. Mixed state, probably. Karen walked in on a chat session with Precious, just when she asked if she could come visit.

Then yesterday Trish had an appointment with Dr. Debbie at the Clinic. Such marvelous Soft Machines! I fixed chicken thighs, & then in the evening there was Viagra & D. Fantasy, even a small hint of K. Fantasy. Double-D; there's another.

I love my Bumble Bee Girl.

insomnia, be the death of me

insomnia, be the death of me

So I'm on Seroquel, & I actually "slept in" until 4:45 this morning. I plan to go back to bed once I've written this note, try to evade the chat room people: perhaps it was hypomanic of me to solicit so many beautiful women, especially because I'm only a 6, but (I guess but I just don't know) that I've got too many women searching for a "soulmate" after me, as well as the usual assortment of con artists & webcams. Bubbles is getting to be extremely hilarious; I keep sending her ridiculous notes; but I'm beginning to think maybe she caught on that I don't want to see her webcam.

Trish & I are experimenting more with each other sexually, though I don't want the B. Fantasy to become as destructive as the K. Fantasy, & certainly never, ever as destructive as the Vast Active Destructive Fantasy, VADIS. She raped my mind, the phallic androgyne.

We watched part 2 of Return of the King last night.

There's a faint odor of gas coming from the basement. I'll have Northwest Energy come over & take a look at it after breakfast. I don't want to scare Trish.

I plan to work on Mark's outline today & get to the next chunk of 10K tomorrow. I really should sign up to do more fantasy DRs. No new crits of "Silence" at this time. Burned into life by the acid fire of mania, it needs to be cooled in the well of eternity to become beyond beauty & lack of it.

Then Noc-Lar starts. I can hardly wait.

can't sleep, bed's on fire

The last few days have been really rough: total insomnia, waking up -- well, today it was 2:30 AM; other times as early as 1:30.

I've been trying to relax for now. These are Trish's days off, mine too. We're going out for lunch at PJ's with Ed & Denise around noon.

The temperature reached the 50s yesterday.

Trish & I used the Philip B. Fantasy last night, & it was real atomic. The K. Fantasy destroyed my mind as bad as the Vast Active Destructive Intelligence System.

Seroquel, be the sleep of me...

...'cause it shoots up to a center in my head & then I'm better off than dead & I guess that I just don't know, but... even with the Seroquel Doc Larocque phoned in a couple days ago, I'm still suffering from chronic insomnia. I wanted to try an antipsychotic rather than a benzodiazepene (which I think Seroquel is both), as insulting that bilberry guy is a sign that Rootboy's gone gonzo.

I finished my MPC, on-time, like an acid rocket-man. Crits have started to come in. So far, it's all constructive criticism.

Wednesday: here ends the manic episode that drove me to hell, I couldn't sleep, but in the heat of anger led me to create & crit a story in a couple weeks. If only I could get some sleep...

2 things, starting this morning: 1) insomnia is a side-effect of Abilify; take it when Trish gets up (8:00) rather than 5:00 AM, when I do; & 2) take the Seroquel an hour before bedtime.

Trish is having real problems with anxiety & schizophrenia. I had to call down to the Electric City earlier this morning, to see about a med change for Trish, too.

Yesterday was a bad day for her. She had 3 buses, & Say Bra -- though she apologized later -- almost kept her from seeing her psychologist. Car-girl & I did have time to make it out to Wally World for a new coffee maker; intuitively obvious, but she had to get Fred to show her how to use it.

Since Trish felt so bad yesterday, I paid for a pizza, with her employee discount. They sent us meat lover's -- & I paid the drive an extra buckadingdong -- so tonite Trish will bring home a veggie lover's, gratis.

I have a few items to pick up at Albertson's, & Fred has promised to come by so we can jam. I need to switch to a different hemisphere, anyway.

Valantasis' Day

Once, many years ago, when Trish & I first lived together -- before her illness kicked in like an interstellar overdrive -- she fixed a special breakfast in honor of the occassion. I responded, "It's not X-mas", think that I hurt her feelings. This Valentein's day, I'm sure that, with the help of Viagra, we can entertain each other with something that transcends Philip K. Fantasy, though it means not-inviting Jeffer Auss over once more. Wish he'd get a girlfriend.

So when I checked my email this morning, I did, indeed, get the MPC. However, I had problems redeeming it: "that title doesn't exist in the queue". Since Ted wanted his name removed from the project, I had to fill out the title-change form. It must not have kicked in yet. I sent aburt a note about it. I should be hearing in awhile. I just wanted him to know about the dread mutant killer glaucoma. On top of my mental illness (fuck Scientology), it's functioned as a 2nd illness.

Yesterday, I did a couple more crits; went on the phone with Doc Larocque's nurse. There are 2 possibilities: 1) kick the dosage of the temazepam up (still getting up at 5:00) or 2) replace it with Seroquel (might be an option after I blew up at Bill Berry: psychotic symptoms). We'll have to see how the condition developes, but I may opt for the Seroquel. (The history of Scientology is the same as the history of Naziism. There's no such thing as a Thetan. Soundth like thomeone with a lithp trying to thay "Satan", anyway.)

Gotta get back in touch with the guy who wrote _Inimicus_. The MPC doesn't even kick in until next week, then I have to allow some time for the crits to dribble in, so I have a 2-week reading period before even thinking about doing the re-make/re-model of "Silence", where the Ladytron gets laid by a guy with an atomic bong.

It's still quite cold out. We're leaving the basement door open at night now, & sometimes the heater down there puts out enough heat to (somewhat) keep the upstairs warm.

I'll try to make it to the store today. Soup kitchen first. The food is better than the preachers down there. I fell for Fundamentalist loony while in the Invisible High, won't make that mistake again.

So if I'm not doing a DR, I'll probably just do chat rooms all day & play with the keyboard some. I still need to put the left & right hands together on "Crystal Ship".

MP3 Award

I haven't had much spare time to write in my blog lately. Typewriter torment, it harries me still -- after getting pissed off at Ted for fraking up the ending of the then-titled "Movement & Repose", I threw myself into revising the story utterly. I did think he wouldn't mind me changing the story back to the way it was, so I kept what I could of his ending, but moved it into the middle.

He sent me a note about not-wanting to be known as an author of "erotica/scifi", & demanded that his name be taken off the story. I don't want to be a romance author, & though to sell my work, I have to do more of what Ted does -- follow formulas -- I don't like to follow formulas.

Besides, I do my best writing hypomanic, & with the elevated mood, I always write more about sex. I may be in that state now, in which case I want to do as much writing as possible, before the night closes in.

I've suffered from insomnia for a couple days, which really slowed up my critiquing. When it started I woke up at 4:30, then the next night at 3:12. Last night, I finally slept until 5:12. I'm going to frak Scientology & call my psychiatrist about it. L. Ron Hubbard can cram his vitamins up his ass.

It's been bitter cold for the last couple days. The weather is supposed to start moderating again soon, though.

Trish filed her taxes at H&R Block yesterday. She'd started Friday, but I'd been needed to fill out some forms.

When I came home I worked some more on my crits. Jeremy Bender, no relation to Otis, gave Trish a ride home: taxi's busted. I had sketti-o's & an orange for lunch; Trish wanted hot dogs for supper, along with some canned potatoes.

Our coffeemaker busted yesterday. Trish found one at Fat Albertson's, but it was too expensive, so we're waiting to see what Wally World has in store for us. Car-girl & I will go out there Thursday to pick one up, along with some groceries.

We also donated 50 buckadingdongs to the MPP. It'll be matched by some anonymous philanthropist, $3.5 million. This should help fuel the War on the Drug Czar. Unfortunately, he has the taxpayer's money to spread his lies with.

Dem legalize marijuana!

marital spat

Trish & I had another fight yesterday. After we cleaned Ula-tek's cage, ate at Feed My Sheep, & picked up some groceries, she went down in the basement with her book while I stayed up here to do some more crits. I'm about 1/2-way thru my MPP. I finished 2, then went downstairs to relax & watch Trish's Britney Spears DVD with her.

She's now talking of selling her car & giving up driving. This is a great relief; driving is what wrecked Arn -- that, & that it won't be well-recived, so I'm best off working on the more commercial Noc-Lar. (No sex, Ted.)

As soon as I arrived, she had her money all spent: she wants to call a plumber to "fix" the toilet as "you have to hold the handle down, for it to flush". I told her this would be a waste of money, we started an argument, & I walked away in silence.

She followed me upstairs. I had her call Karen. I think the issue(s) have been resolved, at least until the next time she wants to waste her money.

Now I'm worried there's something wrong with the new drivers for my Rectilinears. They sometimes have a raspy quality to them. If it's the amp -- I thought maybe the homemade speakers were also doing it -- I'm screwed. If it's simply the driver, that's a cheap repair.

I woke up at 4:30, with a dream that Trish was having an affair. Acid aftershock. Kimothy Leery. Orgasm-death destroying our relationship. Internet dreams. Bi-bi love.

light my fire

So yesterday we had a little cooking accident: I'd used some vegetable oil to fix generic Chicken Helper. Trish came into the kitchen to "help", saw that the frying pan was tilted -- the burner's been busted that way for awhile -- so she grabbed the pan & yanked on it. The liquid -- milk, hot water, & sauce mix -- spilled over. Enough vegetable oil still existed to start a small grease fire. I realized what had happened, & that the fire would go out in a bit; the pan didn't have that much oil in it. She got all "paranoid" & reached for the fire extinguisher. I asked her to wait, that the fire would go out when the oil burned up.

It did indeed do this, but it turned us both into Cranky Bear, & it took awhile for both of us to calm down.

I didn't even feel like doing a crit that evening. I'd spent all my free time in the afternoon yesterday critiquing some guy's fantasy novel in the 2nd chance bin at Critters. I'm trying for an MPC if I can, in order to have "Silence" critiqued as fast as possible. That morning, I got a note from aburt on how to remove Ted's name from the story -- we've had a falling out over his attempts to apply formulas taken from Romance For Dummies to hard science fiction, & specifically to my putting the sex scene back into the story. It isn't porn, anyway. There are the words "breasts," "bra," "penetration", & "sperm coffin" (which is what they call condoms in the future). I don't think Stan Schmidt will mind, as long as it's required by the plot, & 1) if Critters think it goes, it goes, & 2) the worst problem with Ted's ending is that everyone hated it, so it goes, irregardless of what sells at Harlequin Romance. I don't want my name associated with formula romance stories, although I also feel that Ted shouldn't be mad at me over artistic differences. wako loves westerns, Gunsmoke, Bonanza, that doesn't stand in the way of our friendship.

The point is that the Abilify is in my blood & the blood is in my head & I'm better off than dead. I've experience a real creative surge in the last couple of weeks & want to take advantage of it while it lasts. The version of "Silence" I sent out to Critters was rushed, I didn't fix the punctuation, which I'm sure will garner a lot of nit-picks, though I did do the one thing every single Critter asked: ditch the ending.

I'll spend some time this afternoon writing crits. I'm 3 down, 7 to go, although I like to keep going, in case one's too short.

BTW, I'm using a trick Ted suggested to read the stories: copy-&-paste them into my old (ancient) version of MS-Word, & replacing all the ^p's with spaces, & then every 5 spaces with ^p^t. This way, I can blow the thing up to the usual gonzo typefaces I need in order to read.

Ted is a great guy. He's just a bad writer. I don't want to bust a friendship up over this, but I guess we won't be able to collaborate anymore.

Silence

Ted wants his name removed from "Silence," (old title, "Movement & Repose") the collaborative short story we've been working on for so long. I didn't find out until yesterday around lunchtime, when I checked my email before shutting the machine off. I let Trish go to her H&R Block appointment by herself, so I could do an MPC for Critters, in order to have the story read in a week, rather than 3-4 weeks. While writing a review, Karen rang the doorbell; I'd been needed at the tax place; we had to reschedule for Monday.

Checked my email, bang!, there's a note from Ted, complaining he "doesn't want to write erotica/sci-fi" & recalling that he'd objected to the sex scene in "Trinities," which had been fun to write: I'd done it while sailing the darkened seas in a great big submarine.

Fortunately, TA with Car-girl wasn't far away. I ate a can of chili, then we went to Wally World, where I put 30 buckadingdongs onto the food stamp card -- they gave us $69 this month, not $15. Then we went to Pizza Hut, where I talked about my asperations of creativity & exasperating Ted -- the main problem is, I don't want my name on anything with a formula taken out of a book called Romance for Dummies. (Yes, there actually is such a book.) It took long enough for SF to become appreciated, studied by such scholars as John G. Cawelti (whom I worked for), romance is looked down at even worse than fantasy & science fiction (also the title of a magazine that I no longer waste my postage on as whatever they're publishing, it's not fantasy & science fiction). Even as romance, Ted's draft was a total failure. I contacted every Critter who'd read the story, & every single one of them said, "Put it back the way it was". If Ted would've submitted his draft as it was, I would've wanted my name removed, plus I could guarantee that absolutely no one would buy the thing.

So Car-girl got us home a little late, as she had to go to the bank to get money to pay for her salad bar. I'd had one too, with Trish's discount it came to only a couple buckadingdongs.

We had steak for supper. We'd taken the meat out of the freezer without knowing exactly what it was. Before I opened the freezer bag, I thought it was pork, was prepared to bread it, & had to throw away an egg & bread crumbs. Trish insisted on having it "well done".

All we did yesterday evening was sit around & watch Trish's old Britney Spears & Battlestar Galactica DVDs.

I fell asleep fast, in part because I took 3 temazepam, but also in part because I'd only taken 2 the nite before, & had awakened at 4:42 that morning.

I do plan to continue with the "MP3", as Trish calls it. I have yet to hear from Andrew Burt on taking Ted's name off the story. I think Ted's being stupid. Since the Abilify has been kicking in, I'm back to writing at genius levels, & feel that he needs the publishing credential. He also needs to learn how to write without consulting all these "books on writing". If "Trinities" failed, it may very well have been him dragging it down.

In fact, if I get a lot of complaints about having the girl get the other guy, I'll violate another romance "rule" & make my heroine into a married woman having an affair. I can't seem to get it thru Ted's head that we're writing for Analog, not Harlequin Romance. Sex isn't a taboo there, & it's necessary for the plot in my opinion, & even if it isn't, Ted's ending was all fraked up & no one liked it.

I have the Abilify to carry on -- the haldol sapped all my energy, killed my creativity. Now, with each passing moment, I experience vast, evolving idea complexes elaborating themselves within my consciousness. The atomic bong remains in the story, in spite of Ted's objections -- though it will be removed if Critters respond to it the way that they did to Ted's. I don't see universal damnation, though. I'm expecting a mixed response. There are still people out there who reject sex. There are also lots of people who buy it.

If Ted doesn't contact me in a couple days, I'll send him an email saying that I don't want to frak up a friendship over artistic differences. It's cool if an editor at Bantam is interested in his book, but I don't see myself collaborating with him again.

Silence

I worked hard on "Silence" yesterday, which is what I'm now calling "Movement & Repose". For the last couple weeks, I've been dedicating every moment of my free time to the story. I did chat with some Philippine chick for about 10 minutes. She gave me her phone number. Why do all these Asian girls always do this?

So I completed the story, converted it into a text file, & emailed it. This morning -- I woke up before 5:00, in spite of the 3 temazepam -- I sent it to Ted, along with an elaborate discussion of what I've changed & why. I hope he doesn't object, but it's my name on the story, too, & I wouldn't realistically want his ending on the thing.

I plan to do a crit this morning, as Car-girl & I do TA this afternoon. I want to take the food stamp card out to Wally World & stock up on groceries. We still have more than 50 buckadingdongs.

Trish will do her taxes this morning. Wondering how much she's going to get has been driving her crazy to an early grave. I'll be so glad when that's over with. I have to get her up early, to do the dread grease trap, so until tomorrow it's just some other time.

I love my Bumble Bee Girl

Well, could it be because I'm a sweet Pookie Bear? Trish claims the nickname derives from Heavy Metal. I'm a Heavy Metal Addict. So is she. In the days when Perky Pam still put spikes full of haldol in our veins, when we were rushing on our run, we'd always come home from the Layout & watch Heavy Metal. Listen for it in the So Beautiful & So Dangerous segment: snorting Plutonian nyborg, Zeke & Edsel murmur the word as they lay down the lines of powder.

Even in spite of my -- & her -- mental illnesses (& fuck Scientology), I love her, not the Kimothy she's now Leery of. We're both Leery of. I hope that if I just sign "busy" often enough, she'll go away. Most of the time, when K. Fantasy rings the doorbell while Trish is at work, I really am busy. I'm writing.

I'm also slowly going blind. I want to make the myths before the night closes in.

Nothing really exciting happened yesterday, save in my mind, save for rewriting the tachyon-critters story, especially adding a new ending. Boy gets girl where the beat goes on. Just cutting & pasting for the moment, may want to return it to Ted for help on the particle physics, but I do want to keep say what goes into the final draft.

Bondage to this thing has kept me working on the thing, trying to put all the words down before the hypomania goes away. As usual during such an episode, I sleep less: woke up at 4:42 this morning, even though I deliberately drank a can of Diet Cherry Max so I wouldn't sleep in the chair.

Today, the psi-schizophrenia cross-linkage will be cut. Perhaps I'll save it for another story.

Nobodaddy's last name

I saw Joe yesterday, after making French toast out of cinammon bread for breakfast. The dishwasher at Pizza Hut has been repaired, & it looks like we'll be getting a new one at home, too: on the way back to the water cooler, I grabbed Karen & she decided to buy one for us in Great Falls the next time Leo takes down the pickup.

The appointment went fairly well. We both agreed that I no longer need the Layout, & that there are reasons to be Leery of Kimothy. Viagra & a hit of envelope could easily cure all that.

Then I came home, am still working on the re-make/re-model of "Movement & Repose" with the romance removed. At this point, I'm replacing it with raw sex, though I'm sure that some of the feminists on the list will claim that it looks like it was written by a man.

The rest of the day proceeded fairly smoothly. I fixed chili-mac for supper, then Trish did some housecleaning. She's got a lot more energy for that lately. I think that the Lamictal is kicking in on her bipolar, but screaming "shut up!" at the voices in the dish room could be a symptom of schizophrenia.

We watched Terminator, but I fell asleep in my chair. Temazepam can make you drowsy during the day; I think the 3 I had the day before kicked in that evening, so last nite I only took 2. I woke up briefly around 3:00, had to tell Trish not to be a bed hog, then around 5:00 & finally got out of bed around 20 after.

God & Linda's been having so many problems with an old b/f who reacted violently to some meth. Her emails help put my own problems into perspective. Then again, I've roomed at the Hotel Gonzo long enough to reassure Linda that her friend will be all right.

Super Blow

Well, shiver me timbers & blow me woody! That Super Bowl game last nite either really sucked or really blew, depending on your perspective.

Trish had wanted to go to Church yesterday -- any church is fine with me, as long as it's not the Church of Scientology -- but we didn't have time to prepare properly.

The TV blinked out again yesterday, when Trish was searching (a little too early) for the pre-game show. Since we have another one down in the basement, I hesitate to buy a new one for upstairs until plasma TVs come down in price. The main problem with the home theater in the basement is that it's a built-together box, whose speakers suck. We'll try to build some better ones. I'm thinking Pioneer full-range drivers with a super-tweeter in front.

So we got 69 buckadingdongs for food stamps this month. Trish & I went to Albertson's around 2:30 to pick up some milk, orange juice, yogurt, peanuts in the shell, & Diet Cherry Max. The bill came to a little under $12, so when Car-girl & I do TA on Thursday we'll take the card out to Wally World.

Wanting a taco treat, we went to El Taco Loco, where inflation has jacked the price of Crazy Tacos sky-high.

Then the Blow Blew, especially Prince; his guitar-playing was atonal & arhythmic. Wako saved me from extensive exposure to it, mostly by describing his videotape & CD collection.

We surfed into the Fantastic 4 on HBO, which kept us watching until bedtime: take 2 people romantic: I took Trish there for our anniversary.

3 temazepam last nite had me sleeping in until 5:52 this morning, so I'll return to 2 for a couple days, & see if my insomnia worsens once more.

I see Joe at 11:00, but probably won't eat at the Perky Pam Layout. "Einstein Sex-Play Hyper-Light" is more important than Cheri's cooking. Besides, I have the culinary treat, tuna noodle casserole, in the fridge, & can reheat it faster than farting around (I had beans on my Crazy Taco) the Layout all afternoon.

Saturday (forever/futuristic) afternoon

I spent the morning yesterday with Trish. She wanted to clean Ula-tek's cage before we went to the soup kitchen. She brought home a bunch of really sweet pastries, then obsessed with guilt over it. She's off Depakote, she eats less, but she simply makes poor choices.

We had stale pizza. Again. When Domino's delivers, it's hot & fresh; when Pizza Hut donates, it's leftovers from the buffet which have gone stale & on top of that, rewarmed.

In the afternoon, I got to do my own thing. Trish went down in the basement to read, while I stayed upstairs to send some email asking what's to do about the sex-play & received a non-helpful answer & haven't heard from Alissa yet.

Trish played free cell on the computer for awhile, while we listened to the new/old Rectilinears. The sound is real atomic.

We reheated some tuna noodle casserole in the microwave, then proceded to a Buffy marathon. I napped thru disc #1 of the 2nd season, & then took a Viagra. In spite of which, the Risperdal keeps me from having an orgasm.

I want a new drug.

a new day yesterday

Wow, I had a busy day yesterday. Woke up at 5:00, like usual, no matter how many Scientology-fucking temazepam I take. I had to wake Trish up "early", 'cause I had an appointment with Dr. Boes to follow up on the misadventure 2 weeks ago when Dr. Boze sent me to Great Falls on the ambulance.

My retina's fine. Detached retina being one of the best disproofs of intelligent design, which the Bozo King at Feed My Sheep keeps babbling about -- we only had cold cereal for breakfast; Trish snacked on toast at 11:00 while I held off, then inhaled my food.

Car-girl was supposed to meet Trish at 1:00, but she changed it to 3:00, so we were stuck with yet another playing of the Britney Spears in Las Vegas thing. Then, we had to go to the bank, but Car-girl had to pick up another client, who had to pick up some new glasses. The 3 of them went to the brand-new Wally World, while I stayed home & checked my email. I'd received a forward from Ted of Jon Kohl's critique of "Movement & Repose", so I wrote a reply. By the time I'd finished that, I had little time to work on the project.

I fixed b-b-q pork for supper. Trish & I mostly listened to the new/old Rectilinears all evening. It's not in surround sound, but they sound incredibly clear, & a love seat is a good place to Snuggle (Uppagus, him too).

I have about an hour left before Trish gets up. I'll try to set the morning on fire with words, though my typing is not at a blazing speed. I feel creative, but not manic. Perhaps the Scientology-fucking Abilify is kicking in. I want to take advantage of it while it lasts.

Einstein Sex-Play Hyper-Light

Yesterday after Trish left for work, I spent until 2:30 (+ or - a few minutes) working on my mutation of "Movement & Repose" into "Einstein Sex-Play Hyper-Light". I think that I may still be a little manic, but if I am, it's hypomania, not the more severe paranoia that caused me to write an angry email to this Bill Berry character over a nit-pick.

The words flowed smoothly & well. Although Ted made some invaluable contributions in terms of character & particle physics, the romance elements had to be eliminated -- 2 stories, running in tandem, one of which does not collapse without the science. The remake is thorough, & includes removing Juanita's obsession with religion & creating a new ending, then on to more & more rewrites. I want it to be near-perfect the next time it goes thru Critters. Then I'll do an MPC in order to have it on Stan's desk as soon as possible.

I did get another email from Jon Kohl yesterday, but Ted said not to listen to him, he got kicked out of some other workshop Ted's in. In the new draft, psi allows Juanita contact with the aliens, but I claimed it's cross-linked to schizophrenia, using the bio-origins of shamanism as a starting point. He claimed he'd "done a lot of research on psi, & it's not linked to schizophrenia". Nor, for that matter, if I remember correctly, did he believe that there are genes that control for it. However, since there's no scientific proof psi even exists, I see no problem here.

About 8:00 something, Dion called. We had a long conversation about his interest in SF & the writing I'm doing. He also said any time would be good for us to visit, but we do have to work it out around Rosemary's schedule & our March 7 appointment with Doc Larocque.

I see Boes today. Everything seems to be fine, but the Great Falls trip, there & back again, was pointless & merely stuck me with an $1,100 ambulance bill.

At least the meds are kicking in. When I became Kimothy Leery, which set it off, I mellowed out quickly.

That woman is dangerous. I think she's a Vadisystem.

February makes you shiver

Brr, it's cold outside. The high for today is supposed to be 5, with dangerous wind-chills of 20 below. I do have an appointment with Joe today, but I'm going to cancel.

It's not just the cold weather. As long as I'm manic, it's the best time to write, before the inevitable melancholy sets in. The problem is to avoid being Cranky Bear. I blew up at that one Critter simply over a nit, & this is a warning sign. I can't do it to Ted, no matter how badly I think he wrecked "Movement & Repose".

I'm also cancelling with Car-girl. Typewriter fever, it harries me still -- we already went out to Pizza Hut once this week, anything further would be redundant, & I'd rather stay at home & work on "Einstein Sex-Play Hyper-Light". The suggestions made by Critters have left me with a lot to do in the way of re-making/re-modeling, & the Ladytron gets fraked in the intro -- which will probably either draw the reader completely into the story or make her skip to the next story -- yeah, women can really get carried away calling something "sexist" just 'cause there's sex in it.

I spent a decent amount of time on the story yesterday, but took a break to eat at the soup kitchen, where I had to put up with a sermon on Calvinism. One nutty religion shouldn't be criticizing another.

After lunch, I picked up some shrimp for Trish's supper. I wasted a bit of time on HOT or NOT, but am largely giving up on that. After supper, Trish hauled out the Buffster, which she hasn't watched for ages.

I woke up around 5:00, with an in-box full of email. Ted gave me a 411 about some Critter, but most of his points seem valid.

My eye appointment is tomorrow. If it's still so damn cold, I may have to have Car-girl take me to Invisible Optometric. Or else Medicaid transport. Beardsley sure fraked me over.