back to normal?
Will I ever be NORML again, for that matter? I used to sail the darkened seas in a great big submarine: as Timothy Leary put it, "I'm a submarine Captain; I'm always torpedoed". Were it not so pricey, I'd be the next NJWeedman.com, my cigars rasta & not regular.
Whip it on me, Jim!
It was just like Mr. E said!
But, all psychobabble aside, I think I'm finally back to normal, or at least my sleep pattern is, or at least was, last nite: I didn't wake up until 6:30 this morning. I took 4 Seroquel when I went to bed, & for the first time since I started to take it -- in spite of having the most powerful sedative effect of all antipsychotics, it took this long to kick in.
Goody! Now it's time to convince Doc Larocque that I don't need 3 antipsychotic medications; to stop the Risperdal: it shoots up to a center in my head & destroys orgasms. I've been taking Viagra, free samples, but it's still frustratingly difficult to shoot 20 feet of jissem -- or even 20 inches. Or 2, for that matter. Then Trish starts to feel inadequate & says, "I'm lousy in bed". I've got to get off this stuff. Got to search for something new.
So yesterday was a pretty typical Friday, save that Trish called from work -- I actually wasn't on Hot or Not LiveChat! I must be returning to normal! She asked if she should work Monday, that since we're going down to the Fargo of the Invisible landscape to see the psychiatrist (fuck Scientology!), Say Bra needed to know if she could work the extra day.
So in the morning, I finished another chunk of Mark's novel, which is all right. Whether or not it'll ever sell is a different matter. The competition is so fierce, it's hard to get published, & the literary standards sometimes so different than Reality that, at least for me, with some academic lit-crit studies, that I have to compromise between genre norm & what I want to do. Critters has helped in regard to salability, but not necessarily quality.
Then, in the afternoon, I reworked "Silence". I'm still stinging from Georgia March's sarcastic review. aburt, too, missed the point: I wasn't trying to create a "military parody", I was trying to write a hard science fiction story about tachyon critters -- so her conclusion was to "drop the tachyons", & it's like, screw you, bitch, that's the central element of the story; go frak yourself. If anything needs to be removed, it's the love story running in the background, romance as Ted ruined it, lust as I've resurrected it.
Today, I plan to read the latest 10K chunk, after having a look at sciencenews.org. Once I've finished that, I'm returning to the top of my mss., in order to integrate the end with the beginning, then retype the whole thing.
After that, who knows? Last nite I got onto the chat rooms, weekends being a prime time for that. But once Trish finished cleaning the kitchen, she decided to score & vorkle. A blue pill crossed my lips, & there was tits & titillation.
& God saw that it was good. A little late in cumming, but good.
& it beats the Philip K. Fantasy.
Whip it on me, Jim!
It was just like Mr. E said!
But, all psychobabble aside, I think I'm finally back to normal, or at least my sleep pattern is, or at least was, last nite: I didn't wake up until 6:30 this morning. I took 4 Seroquel when I went to bed, & for the first time since I started to take it -- in spite of having the most powerful sedative effect of all antipsychotics, it took this long to kick in.
Goody! Now it's time to convince Doc Larocque that I don't need 3 antipsychotic medications; to stop the Risperdal: it shoots up to a center in my head & destroys orgasms. I've been taking Viagra, free samples, but it's still frustratingly difficult to shoot 20 feet of jissem -- or even 20 inches. Or 2, for that matter. Then Trish starts to feel inadequate & says, "I'm lousy in bed". I've got to get off this stuff. Got to search for something new.
So yesterday was a pretty typical Friday, save that Trish called from work -- I actually wasn't on Hot or Not LiveChat! I must be returning to normal! She asked if she should work Monday, that since we're going down to the Fargo of the Invisible landscape to see the psychiatrist (fuck Scientology!), Say Bra needed to know if she could work the extra day.
So in the morning, I finished another chunk of Mark's novel, which is all right. Whether or not it'll ever sell is a different matter. The competition is so fierce, it's hard to get published, & the literary standards sometimes so different than Reality that, at least for me, with some academic lit-crit studies, that I have to compromise between genre norm & what I want to do. Critters has helped in regard to salability, but not necessarily quality.
Then, in the afternoon, I reworked "Silence". I'm still stinging from Georgia March's sarcastic review. aburt, too, missed the point: I wasn't trying to create a "military parody", I was trying to write a hard science fiction story about tachyon critters -- so her conclusion was to "drop the tachyons", & it's like, screw you, bitch, that's the central element of the story; go frak yourself. If anything needs to be removed, it's the love story running in the background, romance as Ted ruined it, lust as I've resurrected it.
Today, I plan to read the latest 10K chunk, after having a look at sciencenews.org. Once I've finished that, I'm returning to the top of my mss., in order to integrate the end with the beginning, then retype the whole thing.
After that, who knows? Last nite I got onto the chat rooms, weekends being a prime time for that. But once Trish finished cleaning the kitchen, she decided to score & vorkle. A blue pill crossed my lips, & there was tits & titillation.
& God saw that it was good. A little late in cumming, but good.
& it beats the Philip K. Fantasy.
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