Clearly? Leery? O'really?

Tales of doubt, vectors of Fury: Bongos!

--That's the way to be! Little Joe said, never once give it away.

So Kim stopped bi Saturday, seeming to want to resurrect me with her mouth.

I let her in for a few minutes. Nealy lost my quasi-immaterial soul; I take it that she'd been the one who knocked on the door when Ed came over with the sugar-free cookies.

Wasted a lot of time playing around with Tagged.com. Another of those myspace clones.

Trish came home around 3:30/4:00, wanted to go to the store, bought some juice & pop: Diet Mr. Fruity -- I'm sure Mr. Fruity has spread many lies, a lot like your various Vadisystems.

Got to use a lot of our money to buy a 5.1 receiver. The surround shorted out; we now have stereo only.

The Mighty Insect Slayer wanted to go to Church. Someone behind us made a comment, which I believe was intended for my wife: "She's retarded, & has the mind of a 2nd grader."

This almost created savage vorkling Fury: leader of a gay motorcycle gang.

We watched TV on our dying home theater, then I slept pretty much restfully; demons of the night, depart from me, & leave at the door.

I'm going to be painting Szabo's organ. He's sending it gutless, for me to do with it as I please May affix old electronics parts to it; paint the keys various complementary colors & harmonies.

Should be real atomic. Like a bong. Personally, I prefer waterpipes to joints.

return of the Invisible Gay Bra

The flirtation. The mild jesting. Matches in the pocket.

& then the Gay Bra was abandoned, in the face of the porno-vid: Control.

Eventual relief, in spite of the Viagra.

Got to search for something new.

Something to smoke, rather than regular cigars.

& so it goes. (Curt & Vonnegutsy.)

Week of Wonder

....even though my part in Blowfly's Rapp has been thoroughly disproved, Ali still has me tuned into the Drugster Truckdrivin' Man. (He's the head of the Ku Klux Klan.) He's been like a father to me, & he came to visit me in W-3: he's also like the only DJ you can hear after 3:00. Joan Baez.

What I've got going here is a scheme to get rich fast:

1) Send the Greatest of All Time my copy of A Sufi Saint of the 20th Century, or if I lost it something equivalent,

2) Write the lyrics of Pharaoh Sanders song Hum-Allah on the inside:

Prince of Peace
Won't you hear our pleas
Ring your bells of peace
Let loving never cease

Then write:

Don't heed false jihad. Islam is all about peace & love.

3) Find my letter from him: "To my brother W.C.: Service to others is the rent we pay for a room in the hereafter".

4) Sell the note on eBay for a million buckadingdongs.

& to you assholes in the Bureau of Homeland Security reading this because it has the word "Islam" in it, you can all go take a fucking walk.

Mr. 420 rises from the dead...

...& the sky wept blood; sweat & tears expressed on the part of the Machine...

OK, the last time I tried to use Blogger, I got a message about "switching to the new blogger." Mostly, it just meant reading, entering my info, more reading, more entering, &c, &c.

Much of Sunday, we spent at home, watching a lot of old music DVDs while Trish did a lot of chores. Meanwhile, in the medicine chest, I only had enough Abilify to last Saturday morning, so it'll have been 2 brecchies now, without it.

& if some crazy Scientologist argues with that, Fuck Scientology!

Since I have to see Joe today anyway, so I'll ask him what is happening without it. & give him Dylanesque...

After watching some really Ferry stuff the other day, I decided to simply give Joe, a really big Dylan fan, the original & reorder it.

I did sleep OK last night, save for wide awake time between 4:2o & 5:00. I then conked out until the phone went off. I dialed *69, & got some kind of long distance call: very long number, possibly Joey.

I retire now from my acid day dreams. Tomorrow, I return to Dawn. I want to be ready.

Invisible Banks & the 2-signature policy, + dishwasher problems (today)

So yesterday, following Trish's return from the Invisible Pizza Hut (her days seem to be improving), we walked over to the Iron Claw Credit Union, feet hurting in my hips (now that's a first, probably arthritis), only to find that they no longer have 2-signature accounts. We went ahead & signed the damn papers, but on the way out, told Trish we should choose a different bank. Then she became cranky, even as we ate at El Taco Loco. Generic chicken quesadilla, Spanish rice: we both had the same, + water (see how good the water tastes when it's mixed with Kool-Aid powder). Some type of Mr. Fruity or macho Indian, mostly just because of my "staring", even though I'd deliberately sat by the bathrooms, insisted on commenting on me being "sick".

I ignored him. Trish did some chores, we went over to Albertson's to pick up some air-fresheners, only to find we had refills, not PlugIns.

Listened to the College Station awhile, but then mis-dialed their request line, so I got some horny young woman who wanted a date. Did the same thing another time, she said, "You dialed the wrong number agan." Love will tear us apart, again & again & again, sort of how career-girl covers also do.

Slept in this morning, after waking up 2 times in the middle of the night. Trish fixed generic oatmeal, all by herself.

Coffee, a generic transition point between brecchie & lunch. We ate some canned sketti & meatballs, started a load of dishes. Almost as soon as Trish left, I fell asleep, woke up with the cycle not yet completed. I immediately moved it a bit; finally quit before I checked my email & did my usual slaying of spam.

The song is over.

Prowler & doctor, in that order (TV dinner for lunch)

Someone tried to break thru the door yesterday, while I bathed. Since I needed to see Dr.s No-land & Marino, I decided to take a bath once Trish left for work. Instead I fell asleep in the comfy chair, unti Denise called.

She wanted to know if I wanted some diabetic cookies; could I leave the door ajar so he could put them in the porch?

I said yes, got into the bathtub, & heard something from the porch. The inside door we keep locked all the time, to prevent this sort of thing from happening.

Then about 10 minutes after Ed arrived, bearing cookies.

Eventually, after a tamale & rice TV dinner, I called the copz. Guy kept looking at my recently begun painting of the Bumble Bee Girl, but also noted that nothing really had disappeared, not even our brand new vacuum cleaner. (Unleaded.) He decided that the attempted robbery was most likely to have been done to steal the stereo, the computer, all that stuff.

Then he hopped into his batmobile & was gone.

I had difficulties staying awake, up until... taxi grab! No trip along Dawn's Highway, instead we went down the other main highway.

No-man wasn't terribly concerned, though the student nurse practitioner, very pretty, seemed rather bouncy. She had slithy toves, don't they all have that at their age? Mostly, he did set up the sleep apnea test, then trued to tell me not to use the computer for a week -- these stotres I generate, they are my children. Even if the world's an abortion, they should not be. Dawn must be completed, then Insanity Can Be Fun, followed by Noc-Lar & Arn.

crisis for Trish (work)

Yesterday, when Trish came home from Pizza Hut, closing in on 3Death, she was very distraught. Apparently, she'd upset Jeremy & Brandy: the situation had been a conflict due to that everyone had turned into Cranky Bear that day. The oven (can't run a restaurant without one) had busted & a bunch of people had to come in at 4:30 to fix it. Jeremy & Brandy were both like, "Why do you always ask other people to do your job for you?"

Thing is, Trish did ask for Brandy to do her job; she yelled back, "Go home! Go home! Go home!"

So when Trish really did come home, I couldn't stop her from crying. She's extremely scared that she's going to get a warning over it. I finally got her to let me talk to Jackie in the City of Electric Light. Voice mail. Am trying to get her on Restorel (temazapam), would replace both trazedone & Klonopin. Much of this started when they tried reducing her Klonopin. I did tell Jackie that I couldn't get Trish to talk on the telephone. She eventually decided it was OK to talk to Charlene Upstairs, who calmed Trish down some, & told me, "You did the right thing by calling the nurses,"

Trish subsequently took a bath, while I played & replayed Blue Sunday. Then we turned the college station on, while we boiled our No-bake. (You can make No-bakes on the stove top now.)

Later on, we kalled Karen over it. Her take on it? We're not supposed to call Jackie, except when it's an emergency. Which it was. So there.

I spent a lot of time napping yesterday, as I'd barely slept last night. Edited a few scenes in Dawn, then waited for Trish's histrionic call.

Took 3 trazadone last night. Slept OK. Woke up at 2:00, 4:00, slept some more, then finally went on the Internet at 5:00. My usual time has been 6:00, before the roller-coaster chemical ride in my brain destabilized. Seroquel worked fine, up to the point where I gained 30 lb.s. Now I have to wait to see if my Abilify has made me diabetic. Again. (There's a taste in my mouth as desperation takes hold.)

Fred is supposed to come over at 11:00 today, to mail my $100 painting; I got the check Monday. If I didn''t accidentally delete the emai. Also want to see about getting a new color cartridge for my OfficeJet.

Thus spake Brain Ego: Here come the warm jets!

underslept, again, in spite of trazedone

But otherwise, it was a good day yesterday (but it's an old day now). I got my check in the morning, $100 for Martian Time-Slip. Which is not a fireplace. It is a church that is a cage for a gigantic prehistoric bird.

Then Trish had to go up to the Clinic for her blood work. That turned out to be another time. We still ate at the hospital cafeteria. I had a Polish sausage, sauerkraut, & mashed potatoes; Trish had Parmesan chicken & mashed potatoes.

We had to wait awhile for the cab. When we got home, Trish did a lot of cleaning. We had mac-&-cheese for supper.

About 6:30 I started Room Servicing, then about 7:30 took my Viagra. Trish was being sort of Cranky Bear at the time, so I had a slime-off, instead of a Slime-thing.

--Why else would they maket a tomict bookt about a hairy Yod-Soddoth if there was no such thing as a Savade Id?

ed & not defied bouncy-bouncy

It had been slated to happen: Ooga-Chugga Religion. Instead, after doing laundry & dishes all day, Trish turned into Cranky Bear. Some of it occurred because of the busted connector in the dishwasher. I tried to dissuade her from making an angry call to HRDC about it, today as yesterday was a Sunday. She hit the point at which, Viagra or otherwise, I would receive no thrill from it: it's hard to make out with someone who's angry with you.

She did promise something tonight, though.

When the check for Martian Time-Slip arrives, I want to pay to ship the painting with some of it, then pick up some new toner cartridges with it. Start color-copying small paintings, to abstract them, but needing to mix in more white: pastels don't use up as much ink as monochramatic ones do.

Although I woke up at 2:00 & 4:00 last night, I fell right back to sleep, finally got up at 6:30.

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

Saturday -- typical daze...

...without U-boat, that is.

& where the hell is Philip K. Fantasy when we need him now? Resting in the afterlife, still reminiscing, regretful about his speed days.

Other than that, it was a good day, apart from me waking up at 2:00, after only taking one trazedone. I hunkered down in the comfy chair, listening to music, & kept falling asleep during it. I finally woke up long enough to take a bath, which really woke me up. Went back to work on Dawn, who has forgiveness for the sins man foisted on her. (Born & raped 365 times a year.)

Sounds a little like schizophrenic wrighting again, doesn't it?

& no, schizophrenia is not multiple personalities.

& Scientology kills! So don't fall into that particular death-trap!

I did have time to continue Dawn while Trish was at work. Other than that, Fred came by to look at the leaking faucet/hose on the dishwasher. Thing's stuck on tight, still leaks. But not enough, I think, to really run up our water bill.

Went to sleep in the Captain's chair at evening, until Keith called from Chester. Upset over Bonnie. Didn't know what to tell him, so he finally let me off the phone.

Went to bed at 9:00. Took 2 trazadone. Worked well: although I woke up several times, I always fell back to sleep.

Got up at 7:00 (late, for me), then had problems downloading my email. Someone sent me a horribly long spam, with a terribly long file attachment. No one I knew, so I deleted the thing. Possibly a virus.

Now I hafta wake up the Bumble Bee Girl. Hopefully, there will be bouncy-bouncy tonight, together. (Yes, exasperating VADIS was my biggest mistake. Had I rejected the scion of a Dragon of the Ku Klux Klan, had I kept Jocellyn, a black girl who hated VADIS, Alfalfa High never would have felt the need to get me drunk following 4 hits of acid. Could've saved me mind, my Mindstorms. Now, I reject VADIS. Completely. An awful, hateful beyatch who might've loved me once, but chickened out, fearing the reaction of her Alfalfa High. Turned the Bozo King on me with the bottle of vodka. Purely malicious.)

Damn & I'm wrighting very schizophrenic/depressive now!

Ruthie & the Velvet CDs

Not to mention Owen & the Phish: yesterday morning, HRDC installed some winter kits on the a/c windows, some more CFTs, some insulation on the hot water pipes leading from the tank, & attempted to install a new water saver on the sink: problem is, it wouldn't fit, but when Trish wanted to do dishes last night, the faucet leaked; I think Owen forgot to install the gasket. I tried to tell Trish we could repair it ourselves, given a pliers, but she insisted only Fred could do it. So Fred is coming over later this morning to do it.

Then there was Ruthie. My Velvet Underground CDs caught her eye, so I offered to burn them for her.

--I'm from Missoula.

--I'll burn them for you. Give me your address.

--Thank you! the note on the envelope said.

We also discussed writing SF. She claimed she doesn't have the scientific acumen, but... ever hear of Asimov's &/or F&SF? She was also very interested on DoP, but still felt at a loss engaging tachyon critters.

Hope maybe to see her again at MisCon. Bill Warren, too, assuming he's not mad at me... for some reason, he hasn't been answering his email. Could it be from the Invisible Hog?

I napped a little when they left: trazadone working a little too well, so last night I took one, but did wake up at 2:00.

After I woke up a little, I went over to Western Drug, but Dominique said she couldn't chop up Trish's Klonopin without a note from Doc Larocque. I phoned down to Jackie after I returned from Albertson's. The trazadone made it very difficult to walk that far. Almost keeled over a couple times.

Rested some, started typewriter torment, then got a call from Jackie. Finished the scene I'd been working on, then walked over to the drugstore to have the pills chopped.

Trish came home, worried that she was going to lose her job, over not-being fast enough. If they were going to do that, they would've done that years ago.

Burritos for supper; quesadillas for bedtime snack. We watched Skiffy for awhile, but right in the middle of Bionic Woman Keith called, over Bonnie going to Missoula over no specific reason, & why does she oversleep the way she does?

Put in the tape to record Flash (savior of the Universe), then took a single trazadone.

When I got out of bed this morning, I had to relight the pilot on our floor heater. Hope it's not starting to bust. Owen had the grating off briefly, to see if it used filters. Don't want to tell Trish this; it'll make her paranoid -- but if it's busted, HRDC will buy a new one, or fix it for free.

& so it goes.

BTW, the new dose of Diovan really works: 130/75, on the average.

I slept. I did not dream. I overslept a little, as usually I'm up at 6:00. Will take 2 tonight. Looking forward to typewriter towment; Roxy's into BDSM, just something inserted to create some characterization & screw BJ Thrower. Worthless minor author, anyway. Even a minor author by SF standards. & "Beyond God & Sisyphus" is totally beyond Nina Kiriki Hoffman, no matter what she has to say about it.

You don't believe me? Click here.

night mpves like a gilded whore

No, not really. No hoes for me, black, white, red or yellow. Just a bunch of allusions, centered around the fact that I actually slept last night, 9-10 hours, if you count all the time in the comfy chair.

In the morning, Car-girl gave me a ride up to the Clinic to see the Invisible foot doctor. "Come back in a month. Everything looks fine."

We took the vacuum back to the Invisible Sears store, not wishing to handle a dangerous product: our new machine is 100% unleaded.

Burnt out as bad as a suburban man, I napped all day, with very little to eat. When Trish came home, she "took care of me", up to the point where we started to watch TV together, & then had a few minor Cranky Bear moments.

Later this morning, HRDC will be winterizing our house, so I plan to taket a batt, then rewrite TC in the afternoon.

I think the new edit of Mindstorm should be a priority after that. It's what we have the scanner for. I'm going to try to rework the new draft into the old, remade as comic book scripts.

As for Pluto, I like Venus in Furs. Psychedelic!

trazedone, bring me home...

Gone for a night & a day... a typical dawn on Pluto, a difficult writing project: awakened at 4:30 by weird chemicals inside the Mindstorm, which created typewriter torment. Then, Karen the Kaseworker drove up in the Magic Van, to begin the long drive to Electric City. Upon arrival, we went out to the Golden Corral, where I had pepperoni pizza, a huge salad, macaroni & cheese, & 1/2 slice of carrot cake. Stuffed.

When we got to the Hotel, I tried to call Eldritch Palmer,
no luck, as I went to bed around 9:00, still woke up at 4:30.

After her visit to the denturist, Trish had a hair appointment at the College of Beauty, dye job/haircut. After a continental breakfast, we got there at 9:30. I spent a couple hours staring at buxom babes with scissors in hand, then we had to leave with the trim-job unfinished; leave for our appointment in the Large Ent building. When we got back some tease/flirt asked if Trish is my daughter.

Daughter? Do I really look that old?

Back on trazedone. Did it work? Woke up at 2:00, took the other 2 pills in the middle of the night...

Anyway, I think I mangled my foot with all the running around. New, unleaded vacuum cleaner at Target; Car-girl & I are taking the Dirt Devil back today. Lunch at Wendy's before Trish got her teeth doctor, a bowl of chili for her; a breast fillet & unsalted fries for me (hypertension).

Got on the road home, back in time to get 2 buckadingong cheeseburgers at McRonald's, & even pick up the new prescription.

Watched Dylanesque & Guitar Pablo until bedtime. As noted above, another sleepless night.

I can't believe I ate the whole thing.

The City of Electric Light: tomorrow

Monday, Trish's last day off before the dire & dread 1/2-price day (& the dread grease trap Thursday), all we did (pretty much) was to sit around & watch DVDs. No point in watching TV. Super-dildo hasn't fixed the sound yet. At least we do have Skiffy.

I'd hate to lose all that bad media genre junk, & no, Chris "comic book" Cooper, I actually do have a degree, whereas your fantasy is Captain Trucker. I guess. But I just don't know.

Car-girl picked me up in the morning, about the time the bonus tracks started on Dylanesque. We went to the Invisible Wal-Mart for compact fluorescent tubes. Last 5 years. Costs 10 buckadingdongs for 6. Saves money.

Trish screwed 'em in. Work fine.

We had sketti-o's for lunch, following which I went out & bought some name-brand decaf, not the usual generic junk Albertson's we usually get.

When we both got hungry, we ordered a pizza. Pepperoni (Trish hates it) & green peppers on my 1/2; green peppers & onions for her.

Fell asleep in front of the tube last night. Woke up at 4:20. Am in the early stages of a cold.

Dawn must be resurrected from the dead! (Does she give BJ?)

Gay Bra

Night. Arousal. Desire. My one true love. Mad. Deep. Touch.

Touch?

Touch!

--That felt pretty good. I'll try not to be so cute.

Tall, thin women. Victoria's Secret.

Vast Active Destructive Intelligence System: spying on all bras, not just gay.

& gang-bangs (inverted) in the City of Night.

Loco Brain on lead-laden plastics

So you know the story? (Wako didn't, but a tank could drive down Broadway (there's a Broadway in every town, even the City of Night) before he knew there's a war on -- so you've heard Mattel, the toy recalls? Trish's new Dirt Devil Featherlite contains lead. Not just the nerdy little guy who turns into a man-thing with a beautiful mind, but the life-threatening chemicals & elements. Plastic. Black. Vacuum.

Owning a dangerous machine can be frightening. Trish is afraid to use the thing; anxiety compounded with dread: fear & loathing leads to trepidation & nausea. Trepidation & nausea lead to savage dread. Savage dread leads to the Dark Side. Beware the Dark Side of the Source!

Inspired by this same Savage Dread, sometime after we discovered the Truth I decided to tip off the news media. Wrote a short note to CNN.com, copied-&-pasted it into FoxNews & NBC. I thought that was Kool. Vacuum cleaner manufacturers have no business selling dangerous products.

Then Fearless Taco called. I decided to discuss the situation with him.

--But you see, Lead, lead in plastics is fairly common, & a warning should be sufficient.

Bullshit! Taco sounds like he's trying to be a corporate lawyer defending the worst sorts of corporate greed. & he doesn't even have a law degree. Not even from Bozo U.

The conversation with Ed went a little more smoothly. He acknowledged the problem -- like how many people actually read the warnings? Or wash their hands after using the vacuum? -- & he certainly agrees that the Bush administration is the abomination of desolation. (Not really. The X-ian myth here is history, not prophecy. Already happened. No rapture. God? But you see, Fearless Taco, my Catholic brother, a Maker can be explained by adding a Made Maker... infinite regress, to the absurd.

The rest of the conversation with Loco Brains went fairly well, excepting that he's an arrogant snob. We agreed that John-George might like the Star Wars art on the cover of F&SF. At least there are no busty Amazons.

Wait a second... Amazons are Kool. Just need to reduce the cup size down a couple notches. If/when the Hog ever gets drawn, Rebbecca Church will be portrayed as an androgynous alchemical symbol, & the author will remain anonymous. & numinous. Divine intervention, deus ex machina... Dawn must escape from Pluto somehow.

So that she can exist on Earth, daughter, sister, niece & aunt... but no mother.

& the mirror-scene frees you.

Dylanesque (the new adventures of the Ferry man)

Trish's final day of work for the week began a little later than usual for her, a later arising; my own, as usual, did not respond to Lunesta. Will be glad to return to trazadone.

Fixed Hungry Jack for breakfast. Then our usual 1/2 caf coffee; sitting in front of Hannah Montana & wishing there were pulsating spheres in Invisible City, North Dakota.

But I'd written some email to her dad about the lead vacuum cleaner. Then got a "mail delivery subsystem &c" out of the machine. Trish decided her dad didn't love her anymore (J.T.) & we called Ruth, who was appalled that Sears had sold us lead, especially when Lead's patent on God has expired as the culmination of a new chemical philosophy.

If the Invisible Daily doesn't want to do a story about how Sears is attempting to sell polluted vacuums, we'll get our buckadingdongs back. Might make me famous.

I do not enjoy fame or notoriety. Shorey lionized me, & it frightened me; drifting in & out of U-boat dreams. & then Muhammad Ali made a Panther out of me in the backlash from the Acid Letter. Alfalfa High, the place all my friends went after 3rd year, all also made of me a pariah: Frak Vadis, anyway.

But fame sells books, & mine are my children. Trish had her tubes tied; memes are all I have, & logoi. (Sometime I must ask the Thomas group about the two & the one.) I must somehow discover for them a means of propogation.

Ate lunch around 11:00, soup & sandwiches, then taxi-grab.

I once more experienced Dawn on Pluto. In the future, there will be many Dawns: Earth, Moon & Mars; Dawn in the Andromeda galaxy, far removed from Andromeda Spaceways, a crappy amateur magazine who insults contributors when they say something that's actually intelligent, their knowledge of science being limited to the "gee whiz, it's a rocketship" shit.

--Tower to spaceship! Tower to spaceship! You get down here right away!

--No! I won't!

--Then we're going to have to blast you!

(His power drill shocks 1,000,000 miles away.)

So shortly before Roxy (hot bod but such a military bitch) re-enters the scene, my creativity went into interstellar overdrive, at least up to the point where the headaches drove me away from the computer, & pretty much at scene-changing time.

Trish walked me over to the vid-store once the cab dropped her off, to pick up the new Ferry: Dylanesque. I was dizzy. Dizzy-dizzy; about to collapse at any instant. I walked like a car down Dawn's Highway.

We fixed fish sticks & crinkle fries for supper, then Trish cleaned the kitchen, after I talked with Fred. One more lawn job. Szabo wants to hear me on keyboards; asked Fred for help -- wasn't necessarily forthcoming, but taping a few songs shouldn't hurt, albeit I can only tape straight off the signal source.

Watched the Buffster kick ass for the rest of the night.

Then lay down beside her with Toastie Bear on 4. Woke up at 5:00. Still have headache. Will either chat or create a new Dawn.

there will always be Hope...

...in some vast afterlife void, there will be Hope.

...in realms of the human unconscious, there will be Hope.

...in Helena, there will be Hope, transcending spiritually whatever sects she's in.

...talked with her last night (phone card) while Trish finished drying her uniform & shirts. Good news: Cheri is retiring. This person has had an insidious influence on the Perky Pam Layout for over 10 years, a situation difficult to deal with while chewing CHEW-Z. & Eldritch Palmer is 120 miles away, in Electric City.

Yes, we have a new dryer. On sale at Sears. However, Trish also bought a cheap vacuum cleaner, & while reading the instruction manual discovered it contains (W.C.) Lead (Leadbeater), a poison for which their solution is "wash your hands".

I told her, "We're taking it back." No need for a dangerous machine, when a user-friendly one can be had for a few extra buckadingdongs.

I also had Trish buy a book of taxi tickets. Rain, rain, rain; getting high (well, I wish). Winter is unger-funging, as my mother used to say, & we had to crank Toastie Bear last night. Albeit it's supposed to warm up tomorrow & for the week, but one day to be spent in the City of Electric Light, trying to get a 'script for trazadone out of Doc Larocque. World's greatest non-sleeping pill sleeping pill. Woke up at 4:30 this morning, left bed around 5:00, didn't take my meds until 6:00, so I wouldn't get wired from the Abilify, which that idiot I Ron Steele is probably doing "some important legal work" to remove it from the market, as we all know the only way to treat the mentally ill is Hotels Gonzo where people are warehoused indefinitely, without even symptomatic treatment.

Stupid asshole. You meet a lot of strange people in Critters, & in his case, he can't even proofread for typos. Won't be around long. Probably gave up.

Now, if I could just insult Andromeda Spaceways for their note about my "truly atrociously bad science", coming from a Bozo who knows only what he can garner from comic books.

& where the hell was Bingle when we needed him last Saturday? Today, he'll no doubt be in Pizza Hut, fleeing the rain/snow.

ding-dong, Cheri's gone! (Trazadone be the death of me!)

Yes, that's right: the wicked witch of Invisible City is leaving the Perky Pam Layout, which has been Ruthless for ages.

Heard it this morning from Car-girl, waiting to give me a ride home from Dr. Boze. Kathee wanted me & Trish to pay in order to have our names on a plaque. Won't do it. She's maltreated the 2 of us too much, & other people worse, all the while allowing Colleen Noncorean to pull any kind of shit that she wants. At least things will be better in November.

Then I went in to see the great surgeon. Pressure's normal.

But the good news: I can go back to trazadone. Finally get the Scientology-fucking sleep that I need. Wednesday. In Electric City.

can't sleep...

...bed's on fire.

Don't touch me, I'm an insane science fiction author & gonzo journalist: Insanity Can Be Fun!

However, at this point, I'm simply trying to restore the original, before Scott Multi-Death got to it. Once I've completed "Dawn on Pluto" (guest starring Venus in Furs), I'm going to try for the Kingdom if I can: scan, edit, submit.

Soon.

Mostly, for now, I've got to get my sleep back: 2:00 AM today, & I thought I'd been getting better. Damn insurance company jacking me around changing my prescriptions.

So yesterday Trish had the day off to make her medical appointment. Lazy morning, coffee in the wake of oatmeal. With maple syrup. Ate lunch at the Soup Kitchen. Another sermon I disagreed with, but at least I don't have to put up with too many debates over evolution. Guy doesn't know anything about the subject, anyway. Intelligent design, yeah... so Saklas the Demiurge, the made Maker, created an evil world in his own image. That, too, is "design", but also raises the question of "Who made God?" Once you posit creators to explain complexity, then you need creators of creators, in an infinite regress.

After lunch, we headed out to Fat Albert's Sons for some eggs, sketti-o's (on sale) & some french fries. Trish showered, then we rode the Magic Car up to the Invisible Clinic for Trish's doctor appointment.

Took at least an hour. 2, maybe. Car-girl took us to the office to pick up our check, to the Iron Claw Credit Union for the rest, then up to Sears to pay for our new dryer.

We ate at El Taco Loco. Trish had a Crazy Taco & fries, while mine came with a burrito & rice.

After supper we parked in front of the TV, & called Bresnan again about Super-Dildo frakin' up our sound.

Then we went to bed. Where I shall soon return.

wasted day, unfinished Dawn...

...but yet Dawn has forgiveness for the sins men wrought on he.

Nice.

Anyway, I did little writing, little of anything creative yesterday, following a night when I awakened at 3:00 AM & the next at 4:00. Not even 4:20. (I could use a submarine right now.) I felt so tired, & the headache wouldn't go away; then I looked at Dawn: ermine furs; strike, dear mistress... it was as chaff.

I think I'm depressed. Either that or the meds are functioning too effectively & I'm enthymic again. In any case, Seroquel numbed me out, & I need to return once more to the burning of the Brain Stone: a new chemical philosophy, the celebration of the lizard. Phoenix enthralled.

It's because Lunesta doesn't work worth a damn. Now CCRx wants me back on Ambien, albeit a generic Ambien, another drug that doesn't work.

I'm getting sick & tired of taking sleeping meds that don't work & have the insurance only pay for those ones.

Wednesday we travel to Electric City, where I'll make my case for a simpler, more effective set of meds. Less is more, & the upper & lower, left & right...

Mirrors!

The court of the Crimson King.

Today is another day off for Trish, about her EKG. We're trying to get Medicaid to pay for the trip, as Car-girl's training is until 3:00. If nothing else, we'll be getting our new dryer this afternoon. One less thing for Trish to have anxiety about.

Blood pressure was normal last nite; high this morning. Want to have Dominique (sun a lay to say shun tone) research my stuff to see if any of the meds I take at bedtime could be amping up my circulatory system.

Though it'll probably hit the recycle bin, I'll write after I finish this blog. Vangie is a waste of time, just like:

Vast
Active
Destructive
Intelligence
Systems

feel sick & dirty, more dead than alive...

Right. Lunesta didn't do a goddamn thing for my insomnia. Woke up at 4:00. Yesterday it was 3:00. Yesterday I returned to bed, though -- today I wasted time on Vangie, though I did get an extra 1/2 hour lying down on Broadway: the Invisible Broadway; there is a Broadway in every town, & Lions lie down there.

No Slop Kitchen today.

Nor even really much in the way of writing; too burned out (both ends).

Blood pressure was NORML last nite, high in the morning -- have been wondering if this is thru Abilify. Starting tonite, I'll check BP at bedtime & before & after morning meds.

Mourning thru-out space-time, & a tachyon critter dies.

there's a taste in my mouth as Lunesta doesn't take hold

Yeah, not only did I have Lunesta thrust on me by A-B, now they want to substitute Ambien, in generic form, which they just tried to get me off.

Doc Larocque will probably have a fit.

We were all prepared to see her yesterday; clerical error: appointment isn't until the middle of next week.

So we mostly just put up with the guy at the Slop Kitchen & watched the telly all day.

Went to bed around 9:30. Woke up at 3:00. Left bed at 4:45, must return. Nothing to do but talk with obnoxious women in chat rooms.

The Day Before Today

Yeah, they showed that real sucky disaster flick last night, the "global warming creates new ice age" one that Biggie & the Skinny Dog both thought was so realistic. Karen's comment: "It's an uncontrolled experiment, & we're in it. We're in it." So, OK? It got the worst movie physics of all time on the Insultingly Stupid Movie Physics website, which is a good place to go if you want to laugh at Darth Vader. Which Cheri thought was a good movie, as she watches movies "for entertainment", not didactics (which is the whole point of Analog), but mostly, this particular nursing school dropout just really has no realistic scientific background, about as much as the bozo at Andromeda Spaceways who thought my science was "truly atrociously bad", as everything this clod knows undoubtedly comes out of the Marvelous Comix, & not any kind of degree.

But the disaster flick, we didn't watch it. Passed it by.

That was the evening, a time of atomic ooga-chugga. In the morning, for the most part, Trish & I drank our Scooby-Dew, wishing I had an OOBE-doobie (stopped years ago cuzza rising prices; I mean like a Z should cost 15 buckadingdongs, not 200 -- & where the hell was Biggie when we needed him last Saturday?), then we perambulated in the direction of El Taco Loco, where we had taco burgers & fries.

Trish wanted to mop the floor after lunch. She had wanted to mop it the day before, but I advised her to just relax. The woman is clearly depressed, but today we ride the magic van down to the City of Electric Light to see Doc Larocque. (What happened to the magic bus? Pulled out; not enough profit.)

I actually did some writing while Trish cleaned. The computer saves Dawn, though Lead's patent on her has expired. & it's anti-Tolkein writing. Tolkein worked to remove allegory. I suppose I could transform Dawn back into Juanita, but I'd rather make her... I have absolutely no idea what nationality this woman is.

I suppose she could like Roxy Music. I want to order Bryan Ferry's Dylanesque & burn it for Joe. With both ends. It's too late, the rush is on...

After I turned the computer off, we watched Part 4 of movie 2 of LOTR. It went on so long, we eventually broke for supper; after awhile, during the portions about music (my only friend), we just shut the thing down.

We watched a porno with the college station as background, while I took a Viagra in the middle of it. Trish shivered me timbers & blew me woody.

We had some applesauce (Albertson's store brand), then took our various legal drugz & crashed.

This afternoon Karen (non-Relationships) will be picking us up for our odyssey, albeit by land & not sea. & certainly not on Dawn's Highway; we have to pass the Iron Claws instead, though bypassing the Cat's Foot Hills.

We need to travel the day before as Trish needs her dentures fixed. We will spend the night, & possibly meet Eldritch Palmer, a writer of good Dick imitations. Do a lot of shopping, eat at a buffet.

Hopefully, I can get the Doc to shrink downward somewhat this drug salad I'm on. I'm taking a mood stabilizer, 2 very expensive atypical antipsychotics, a sleeping pill foisted on me by the insurance, a side effect pill, a blood pressure pill, & a bunch of eyedrops. If I ever sell a book, hot or otherwise, I may have to be switched to cheaper alternatives, perhaps even U-boat.

I wish I was born 1,000 years ago...

I wish I could sail the darkened seas in a great big submarine, going from this land here to that in a vorkler's suit & cap. (Yeah, & VADIS vorkled everyone but me, simply because I have loco brains.)