Tag Archives: Blogging

Public Apology to dragos1229

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Some time ago, around mid July , I was perusing the blogs and I came across a blog:  thestoryline.co.uk

The blogger had posed a question to  readers asking why he thought his blog had been banned several times.

I did a very cursory look at the content, less than 5 minutes and wrote to the blog authors contact page privately to tell him what I thought:

”Firstly, You don’t have the balls to let readers leave a comment. That’s fucked up. So I guess that makes you somewhat of a stalker.thst you get to comment on others blogs but not let anyone comment on your own. Secondly the content of your blog sucks. For example,  you wrote about the night you spent with a hooker and another high-end escort you brought home to your folks. Big deal. Do you know how many “I fucked a hooker blogs” are out there that say that, but are actually in interesting read? Thirdly, it is clear as day that you are misogynistic. So what, all us women should be clamoring to read your words wielding shit about us neatly hidden (or not) behind saccharine pleasantries. So we should be grateful you let the hooker stay with you overnight instead of paying her and letting her go home.  She was probably counting the minutes to get the hell away from you. If you’re such a great fucking guy why the need for a whore? Get a relationship. Real men don’t need to pay. So yeah, unless you want to bunch of blokes reading your blog, try little harder. Had your vitriol towards women a little better, or just openly admit you fucking hate women. Just because you have a fat wallet and a fat cock doesn’t make you Ernest Hemingway.

It was only after I sent it I realized I shouldn’t have.   Often times we don’t think about how words impact others.  Normally,  I do.  Normally I am careful with people’s feelings, I am very empathic.  The multitude of personal and relationship issues I had been going through made me lose my own basic courtesy.  The deaths of two parents 3 months apart, losing my son to a year long treatment center, a slow steady disintegration of my diet of my present relationship with daily verbal abuse were among the stressors.

There is still no excuse to displace aggression on another.  There is no excuse treat anyone with disrespect, either publicly or privately.   I would like to extend a public apology to him for my words.   Also to the blogging community at large.   It marked a personal low for me. I feel ashamed of my actions and wish I could go back in time and have simply said nothing.

Dragos1229, I am very sorry for my actions.  None of what I said had any basis in truth, it was more representative of grief and my own mental state.

 


Rorschach Test

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What do you see in the ink blot?

The Rorschach test is a projective psychological test in which subjects’ perceptions of inkblots are recorded and then analyzed using psychological interpretation.

I remember when the test was given to me at 19.   I was in the psych hospital for a suicide attempt.  I felt hopeless and empty  had been for a long time.

At first, I thought about screwing with the tester, albeit briefly, then changed my mind because I was suffering immensely.

He informed me,”I am going to hold up a card and you will just tell me the first thing that comes to mind. Okay?”

Sure.

card goes up with black ink image only

“Ink blot.

Okay, I forgot to mention that you can say anything except for inkblot.”

Flashes card

bat

card

butterfly

card

“butterfly with goat head

card

“weird looking bug with skull face

card

Moth with fangs

card w/ black + red ink image

death

2nd card black/red

death

3rd card  black/red

death

multi-colored card

“well of you want me to look at it as a whole, I see a giant head, but within the upper right corner there is a a goat head with horns, over here in the bottom left there is this sort of devil creature, at the very top I see a baby’s face.”

Tester takes copious notes while I speak then packs up his cards. Day or so later,  I get slapped on Prozac and diagnosed with depression.   Wasn’t that apparent from the suicide attempt?  I’m kind of glad I didn’t screw with the tester.  I could have ended up on massive amounts of Thorazine drooling and shuffling around like the other  blokes aimlessly wandering about that smelled of piss and cigarettes.

My roommate’s depression was so severe that it didn’t respond to medication so they had to strap her down and take her to the basement for ECT aka Shock therapy.  I think she had bilateral (both sides of her brain) zapped to induce the seizure.   She came back looking like Sigourney Weaver had sucked her brain out with a straw and there was nothing left.  She had that 1000 yard stare, empty eyes that penetrate straight through you.

She never did remember me for a few days after she got cooked, despite having known me for nearly a month.  I was always jealous though because ECT patients got to have coffee and Dunkin Donuts after the switch was thrown.

So if you eat your donut and drink your coffee and enjoy it  but don’t remember you do, did it really count?     It’s almost like they never got their coffee and donuts.

What do I see in the blot doctor?  Big Pharma profiting from human suffering.

 

 

 

 

 

 


I’m a Napalm Bomb

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I’ve always had a temper.  The earliest memory I have was from childhood.  My step-sister was a year older than I and we were sent upstairs to our bedroom for some infraction or other.

First, my sister got smacked.  Pants down, bare-bottom, that was fairly typical for the time.   I don’t really recall how many she got.  Hard to focus when you’re on deck. Going last always ups the anxiety factor.

Then came my turn.   Same way.   Except I was angry.  This shouldn’t be happening, I thought. What could 7 and 8 year olds do exactly to warrant the hand, the belt, the flip flop or whatever the hell else was handy.  But I was going to get it.   So I had no choice.  It dawned on me though I couldn’t stop it from happening, but I could control HOW it happened….

As I was getting whaled on, I looked up and said, “that didn’t even hurt, why don’t you hit me harder.”  Oh hell no, did I just say that? My sister told me to shut up.

Of course that changed the tempo a bit and things moved faster and I got hit harder.  Then I said it again! I could see the veins popping in the sides of their neck, they were so furious.  I braced for it and then they finally quit.

After it was all said and done I felt vindicated.  I sat on my sore butt and remember thinking that although  my ass was red with handprints all over, I had been victorious because they didn’t make me cry.

************

I’ve grown older but apparently none the wiser.  These days it seems like most of my anger still comes out with fury and vitriol.   Especially so if the source of my irritation and anger is constant and unrelenting and out of my control.  Probably the latter which bothers me the most.

The noisy kid on a long flight that whines the whole way that I just want to bitch slap but would never.   The guy humming in line behind me to “Air Supply” so it gets stuck in my head.    The teen vaping weed in his car with his windows rolled down in front of me so his plume ends up inside my car so I smell like “Blue Dream”  for the rest of my day.

Oh and then there’s the road rage.    There was the time in downtown Boston where some dude cut me off.    He rolled down his window and called me a bitch.   So  I pulled along side his car I said “if you’re so tough why don’t you get out of your fucking car, and say that to my face you pussy.”  Yep, this has happened several times over the years.   I did get out of my car once.   Guy freaked when I knocked on his window.  Tough guy, just drove off when the light changed.

Then there’s this certain someone.   This person who has been making my life bloody hell for 6 long years.  I get so mad my blood boils just thinking about them.  I find myself thinking, “I’d like to keep them in a locker inside of a storage unit until they can behave.”   Oh if only it was legal and moral.

When I’m that angry,  I seem to see only red, think only red.  My focus becomes myopic.   At times I fail to care about  repercussions in that particular moment.  Depends on how angry I am.  Which has lead me over the years into some high risk behaviors.

I know in my heart I should probably talk to my new shrink about my anger issues.  I have never mentioned it before, might be important.    There’s only so much you can squeeze into a 50 minute session and your life is a 3 ring shit-show.

Two roads diverged in the wood; Bottle of Grape Vodka  vs.  hours of therapy….. 

 

 

 


Sofa King Successful

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Night after night I sit in front of my wide screen TV and binge watch Destination America shows.  Shows like “A Haunting “ and “Kindred Spirits.”  

It’s always some family that has some books start to fly around their house.  Their kids are waking up getting mauled by unseen forces.  Ethereal voices floating through the hall ways of the home.  Doors slamming shut and  what not.

The family always seem to have a “friend” who they call and ask them to bring over the tape recorder, “you know the one you use for the EVP recordings?”

WTF? Seriously. None of my friends have tape recorders and definitely don’t record the spirit world in their spare time.

Inevitably, this friend has another friend who is a ”psychic medium” and comes over to do a reading of the home.  And after the reading they always tell the family there is a “dark entity”.

This is where shit really goes crazy.  As if any family wound have ever stayed with books flying about and kids getting mauled by unseen forces and ethereal voices? Now, you have actual disembodied demon type messages on the EVP threatening to possess the kids and shit.   Thing is I can’t tell whether the word said “I’ll possess him” or “”Let’s get tacos”.  The bastards really are reaching.

So in comes the sage smudge sticks and the weird shaman dude wearing 1970’s vintage bohemian clothes to do a cleansing.

Kid gets possessed, priest is called, kid gets freed, but the entity still lingers and the family have to move out anyways.

The fucked up part is I watch this crap  til 3-4 in the morning full well knowing I need to get up at 7 am.   I still can’t seem to can’t get my shit together and always end up oversleeping.  Could it be that the donkey-like shadow at the end of the episode they actually caught on the thermal camera was so riveting I couldn’t pull away?   Or is it that I’m self-sabotaging to set myself up for failure the next day to reinforce a long-held belief system that I suck?

See all the therapy is paying off after all.  Because now I have insight as to why I’m still functioning at such a low level.

I’m not so fucking successful.   You can take the girl away from the losers, but can you take the belief system that she is a loser out of the girl?


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