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BRIEFLY: the holes in my life

Let's play a game called Here's What I Don't Have What So Fucking Ever! I'll go first!

1. bedbugs

2. a family

3. love

4. any hope of happiness

5. suspenders

6. visitors

7. a giant pet turtle

8. a wine cellar full of wine

9. emotions

10. a plan

11. a vagina

12. steak

13. remaining interest in this asinine activity

TLDR

Woke up to the sounds of Chrisaster Artist (Chrisaster for short) knocking dishes around in the kitchen while babbling to himself and slamming cupboard doors. It was 1:30AM or so and my movie, Dragonslayer was over, I'd probably fallen asleep in the first five minutes which is fine. I took off my hat, headphones and CPAP mask, moved the laptop off my lap, hauled myself to a sitting position, flexed my legs for a while to gain sufficient strength, heaved myself to a standing position, slipped on shoes and went next door to pee.

Chrisaster spotted me, made some kind of joke about fighting me. I told him it looks like he's busy fighting the kitchen. He cackled like a lunatic and agreed. I squirted and returned to bed, re-cocooned myself and managed to nod off again during a second episode of Comedians in Cars Getting Seinfelded.

Woke up around 4:30 AM to more smashing and babbling from the Most Disgusting Housemate on Earth (Chrisaster for short). He then camped out in the washroom singing songs about being a legend and so on. Chrisaster has a chrisasterous drug problem if I haven't mentioned.

Tried to sleep. Couldn't. Had chocolate-hazelnut breakfast instead of cereal because it was within reach.

Made Irish coffee. Grabbed my coat, hat, notebook, treat bag and walker and toddled out to the sidewalk. Sat in the very very barely present drizzle and sipped. No cat friends or dog friends came by. Got cold and passed on the morning walk. I'll try again later presumably.

Sat in the kitchen, joked with Eugenius and The Bro, and talked about ways we might be able to murder Chrisasterous Crap Head Parasite Weasel and get away with it while said weasel continued singing, babbling and slapping himself behind his closed door. B and E have bedrooms in his immediate vicinity so they were up all night. I only get driven to the brink of murderousness when he slinks and staggers into the kitchen for a few minutes or hours. We've devised many assassination plots but all are cost-prohibitive thus far. Our budget is roughly 45 cents. We're all on ODSP. Bro made us Ethiopian coffee. I covertly Irishized mine (with Irish whiskey BTW; not Baileys. I'm not crazy. That I know of).

The Bro made some progress getting my phone to work more properly. I had gone nuts deleting and disabling apps, trying to make it stop chirping at me for no reasons that I understood. I hate distraction; not just instinctively but because I know very well how distraction has destroyed minds and nations for the last thousand years and how it's still getting worse all the time. Bro seemed to lure my keyboardy widget back into occasional functionality.   

Well. This post couldn't be more boring if I tried. I hope you didn't read it.

Attempt #2

 ... at describing my morning! Not at taking my life! Ha ha ha ha ha! Did I scare you there! Well, don't be such a chicken shit next time!

Lucky (or unlucky?) for me, I am definitely a chicken shit once again so... Nothing news-worthy is going to happen around here.

Let me try to recall that morning: I washed some of the last few dishes from Turkey Fest. Most were done the night before. Took my meds. Went for my walk. Had a coffee which is VERY important!

Now that love is out of my life (had to put it on injury reserve) and I cannot afford a proper addiction to take it's place, I have had to promote coffee from the practice squad to first string. Desperate times call for desperate measures. I gave a generous portion of fishy niblets to Ginger (Kevin) Ferraro and a large milkbone to Moose. He had the Mama translator in tow that morning; not the Papa, and he gave her no choice. Just pulled her to me and drooled all over my coat while I fished out a biscuit. Then he wanted to eat the garlic bread with cheese that I was eating for breakfast but I did not relent. Mama finally dragged him away.

I thought about my family who are boycotting me, trying to force me to do what they think I should. Their ideas are incorrect. My fear is not that they won't relent. My fear is that I won't forgive them. I have dear friends and uncles and aunts who are too medically unstable and either that's why they don't see me anymore or that's the excuse. Maybe I'm just intolerable and don't know it! And then there's Aqualad who is just too busy for me and the Eloquent Potter who lives far off in the Big Smoke and has no car.

All the people I love are not available to me except online and I would rather die than go on pretend-living online. Fuck online. Fuck it.

[he says on his blog.] 

I am empty empty empty empty inside. I now understand why people have addictions I think. Everyone needs to need something. The delusion of identity I suppose. And when it's not people, it has to be things. I can't afford drugs or alcohol or gambling which all sound great. Sex is certainly out of the question.

Empty empty empty empty empty.

Planet Earth is blue and there's nothing I can do.

A failed attempt at describing my morning

Last night Eugenius cooked a turkey dinner for the four of us plus his mysterious quiet houseguest who is here on day 3 of the visit. It's against the rules but I don't care. Even though it means twice the filthy disgusting cigarette smoke that escapes his bedroom window and drifts in through mine; some of it... I still don't care.

Oh I fucking hate the smoke though. I'd say it's a matter of the purest insanity that cigarettes are legal but of course sanity has absolutely nothing to do with politics whatsoever. The bottom-feeding demon spawn which occupy 99% of the elected government make every decision based on the long-term will of their masters (including when they appear not to), including those deranged filthy near-human excrement masters who manufacture tobacco weapons at deliriously evil profit. How nice for them that most of us slaves are so pathetically distracted and deluded and ignorant as to cast votes for their wretched red and blue minions.

To think I was once enlightened enough to love the peoples of this society and to pity us all rather than to slip periodically into the most vile of contempt for we and our overwhelming lunacy.

Well, this isn't going as anticipated! I meant to brag about how delicious and juicy and tender the turkey was, except for the neck. He served me the fucking neck which I found unsettling and unenjoyable but the rest was exquisite and the carrots were perfect and the mashed potatoes were quite possibly the BEST I ever have had! They were deeply saturated in the turkey stock; boiled in the same pan, and generously dosed with garlic and like-boiled onions!

Friggin delicious.