I’ve spent almost half an hour on line trying to find a picture from Beyond Re-animator. There are pictures available, just not what I was looking for. I was looking for a good picture of the mouse carrying away the warden’s penis (yeah; see the film if you haven’t) but not much is out there. Too bad. I wanted to post it up with the title ‘Free Range Dicks’ because it seems that’s what I’ve been running into lately. Just finally had to leave it because when you google anything with ‘penis’ in the search…well, you either know or can imagine what comes up. Literally.
It’s been tough for me. I’ve heard from two fellow bloggers that have got slammed out of the blue. My head has a hard time letting go of such things; it gets looped on replay along with more and more scathing actions imagined on my part. How I’d like 10 minutes alone in a room with that asshole! I may have RA, but I think I could inflict some serious damage before those 10 minutes were up.
Yep. Still in revenge mode.
Can’t be doing all that bad, though. I finally stopped burping so much. Only took – what – 6 days after my appointment to slow my system down? I’ll blame the appointment; I acknowledge I was WAY stressed out during it. Please, please, give me something for anxiety. I know I need it. Six days was a bit long.
I have things to do each day of the week, yet I feel more loosey-goosey about what’s gonna happen than if I had nothing scheduled. I just don’t know where I’m gonna jump next. Mania? Depression? Mixed? Who the fuck knows. It takes too much concentration for me to chill out; I can’t monitor my emotions right now. Headaches come and go. As do tears and genuine laughter. Things seem to blow in on the wind for me. I’ll be fine, then my mind will wander and suddenly I’ll be crying. I’ve had to bring myself back to the here and now more over the last week than I care to admit.
And still it goes on and on; the things I SHOULD have said. Since I didn’t before and it seems I need to, I’m gonna list them out here:
- To Ben: You are such an asshole. Your musical taste sucks and you have no idea what the fuck you’re talking about. Oh. And if you’re such a big fucking musician, where the fuck are all your recordings? I’VE got over a dozen albums for sale and ALL are selling.
- To A: You are an abuser. Of yourself, of medications, and probably of all the people in your life. Go fuck yourself. You are a stalker, a faker, and probably a rapist.
- To my sister: DIE MOTHER FUCKER, DIE!
- To my mother: You are SUCH a cunt. I have no other word for it. Cunt, cunt, cunt!
- To D, my oldest brother: Get some fucking help. You’re sick. In the fucking head. Stop being in love with me.
- To L: What the fuck are you doing talking to me? It’s not like we’re friends. Did your life just get so sucky that you needed to know how shitty I was doing to make yourself feel better?
- To J: I’m sorry you hurt and have problems, but your use of the word ‘but’ in your last message NEGATED EVERYTHING I FUCKING TOLD YOU. Um. Fuck off.
- To my uncle: I love you for what you did for me. I will be eternally grateful to you. But I am NOT a republican; stop sending me those damned messages.
- To my aunt: Stick your concern up your asshole and twist.
- To A again: Stay the fuck away from me and my friends. If I ever see you, you are in for a world of fucking pain.
- To my ex: Loser. I win.
- To the boss who fired me for demanding a real lunch break: I should have reported your ass. You are SO goddamn small.
- To the consultant who insulted me: Maybe if you hadn’t been such an asshole to everyone you wouldn’t have hung yourself. I cried NO tears when you died.
- To AJ: Your judgmental nature will eventually bring your karma down around your ears. Get ready for it, fucker.
Not exactly the thoughtful and considerate kind of space I want to be in.
BRRRRRR! Shake that shit off me. I think I’ve been watching too much sweet stuff and my mental diabetes is giving me problems. Maybe I should go back to some gore and horror.
Yes, yes I do. Smack those bitches upside their heads.
19.5 hours to go until I can get back in the swimming pool. Remind myself of water and of breath. Let it all wash off me.
I’ve got a fucking headache again.
Time to go and see George. Let his little duck beak nip away at my unhappiness and remind me things aren’t so bad. Don’t know why that works so well, but it does.
Today’s motto to strive for is: let it go. These free range dicks will eventually get what’s coming to them. I have to hang onto the idea, that somehow, somewhere, a Universal Justice system operates to even things out in the long run. Otherwise I’d go commando on your asses.
The sickness that’s spread from a bad comment is hard to get over. I’ve got it bubbling out all over me, and the smell is putrid and foul. Gimme some antiseptic to pour over my brain. I need First Aid.