Tobacco is a cunt

First-days quit-rage NSFW.


Eat shit before you freak out at me for using that word in the title. It’s not click bait but I needed your impossible to obtain attention somehow and now I have it. I have read Inga Muscio’s wonderful book and have even gifted it to other significant women in my life but anyone who thinks pejoratives are going anywhere lives up inside their ass cave and the fact is that there is no other word that possesses such immediately striking vitriol, and since I am quitting smoking I am inclined to throw that magnificently powerful word at my former master, and really, that is the general thrust of my meaning when saying the word cunt… that the subject is an oppressor that pretends to be on your side. I am not referring to ladyparts and anyways don’t be sexist because you can call a man a cunt, it’s 2015…

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Suicide Silence- “You Only Live Once” and Lamb of God- “Desolation”. Two of the most beautiful songs I have ever heard.


how throwing a plastic disc through the air is changing my life

Featured imageSince the utter failure of my attempt at seeking help for mental health issues over the past two decades, I had resigned myself to a life of despair, and didn’t care much whether I lived or not. Due to a latent childhood trauma I have been unsuccessfully dealing with a diagnosis of “Bipolar 1, Severe with psychotic features and social phobia”, a mouthful, I know. Having healthy relationships and feeling accepted have both felt out of my reach for as long as I can remember, but that has been changing recently. I have now been free of suicidal impulses for over a month, where it used to be a day-long struggle, every day, and I am starting to gain a positive sense of self that I never believed possible before.

Some people will not be shocked to find out what is helping, as I have come to learn that what is working for me has worked for others with similar stories, but we don’t talk about it because of the stigma surrounding mental health issues such as addiction, escapism, social anxiety and the many others that can plague someone for life. I have been in and out of urgent care, psych wards, and dealt with county crisis workers, have seen many psychiatrists and psychologists but no treatment plan developed seemed to do anything for me. I tried counseling, meditation, and prescriptions… I self medicated with alcohol… but always I came back to a bleak feeling of hopelessness. However, what was a glint of hope a few months ago is slowly turning into a viable path forward, one that is actually starting to get at the root of my problems and guide me forward, and that path, oddly enough, is throwing a plastic disc through the air.

Last fall, at the bequest of some friends who I thought were too arty/intellectual for sports, I started playing a sport called disc golf(it’s golf but you throw a disc instead of clubbing a ball), and three major aspects of the game have somehow started to re-orient my psyche.

Firstly, the frequent communing with nature. This is something my life was missing. Before I would go on walks or bike rides, and during the walk or ride I would feel better, but instantly upon returning home my general anxiety would return. I exercise, always have, so I know that exercise itself is not a treatment. With disc golf it’s different. Rather than passing through or over nature on a walk, disc golf causes me to interact with it. Over the course of a season you see the changes in foliage, the swelling and receding of ponds, and the natural processes of life and death present in the woods. You breathe the dense forest air and in the fields bask in sun(or rain or snow!). Being that connected with nature has been something I have missed since living in the mountains and deserts of Mexico.

Second, social interactions are naturally focused and the community surrounding the sport are a more accepting group than I am used to. This is a major aid for someone with my level of social anxiety(and believe me it’s high!) because it takes the focus off of me so that instead of feeling as though I am standing helpless in front of some terrifying monster waiting to judge everything I do and say, I feel I am standing alongside friends all enjoying the simple yet profound pleasures life can bring. I still get highly self-conscious, and my performance suffers because of it, but the overall effect is that the course and the game give me a buffer zone that in and of itself provides reason for interaction and conversation, two things I will avoid like the plague if given the chance.

The third, and likely most important aspect is the… what I will call “zen” of the sport. Performing well requires being in touch with the whole of your body and also your surrounding environment, which is a state that modern Americans very rarely achieve anymore given the 21st century ability to sit on one’s ass all day and still feel as though something was accomplished. In order to deliver that disc in your hand out into the woods or over the field you must surrender not only to nature but to yourself as well, and it’s a very internal, primal part of the self that is being engaged in this moment. If you start doubting your body’s natural conviction you will know it right away. You can see it in the face of every thrower the second they release the disc, you can tell as you let go, without even looking at the disc, if you achieved the line and flight you envisioned, because your mind is thoughtless when you get it right, but riddles with dissonance when you have it wrong. And it has taught me not only how to be present inside and around myself, it has also taught me to let go, because you cannot control every gust of wind or downhill roll, these things happen and you must deal with them gracefully.

The practice at shutting off self-doubt is, I feel, the key factor in what I hope to be my slow yet final healing process within myself. I have even noticed my personal relationships improve from these experiences, and have found that a new voice has begun to emanate from me, that a new love of being and inner peace–acceptance of life and self–have started to crowd out the negativity and fear.

If you also struggle with social anxiety and depression I couldn’t recommend playing disc golf highly enough. It even sounds weird as I say it in my head because the activity itself seemed almost antithetical to my normal mode of being at first(that of a sad lonely depressed artist whom the world stands against), which to the chagrin of magic pill makers is maybe the very rub itself.



Round four with the overwhelmingly decrepit psychiatric practice has begun.  I say decrepit because from what I can tell, no real progress has been made since the 1970s, and I think that is a shame.  I have hardly moved from one room of the house to another without my copy of The Disowned Self in tow.  While the book does nothing for my temporal anxiety, it has already done much for my internal path to self-hood.  I am increasingly hesitant to divulge much in the way of personal details, as I have resolved to document the entire 33 year affair that is my life autobiographically.  There is too much potential for others to find respite, or more, in the stories I have to tell, not because I am the only one with such stories, but because I am willing to tell them honestly, with no regard for my own pride.  After all, what is there to be proud of when you have only just met yourself?

My crisis worker is a godsend, for that I am grateful, but dealing with the following diagnosis through the modern pill-pusher hustle they call mental health care is going to be a nightmare: Bipolar I disorder, severe with psychotic features and Social Phobia.

When my eyes befell that one word, psychotic, I lurched.  They save only the worst, spirit crushing medications for such diagnoses and I am afraid that my timidity will betray me as I helplessly nod at the next psychiatrist, meekly forcing out an “ok” as they give me dosage instructions.


the hiatus ends

So much has happened since I last posted here, and I don’t mean this to be an “I’m back” post in the sense that I think anyone was waiting, hitting refresh on their browser, for the next indecipherable load of bollocks I would dump into the webosphere, but I find myself now at a point in my journey worth transmitting, should another wanderer find use for it.  At the moment I cannot go into full detail, but let it suffice for me to say that the accounts of my life and and revelations therein espoused of which I will be documenting shall be more raw, more thoughtful and less narcissistic than was previously the norm here.

I will divulge one piece of the puzzle here for you now, which is that after some personal breakdowns or breakthroughs(or the one necessarily precedes the other), I have sought professional, medical and social therapy.  I am frightened of what is to come, and unsurprisingly, this has emboldened me to share with abandon what it is I feel may lie at the core of my dysfunction.  As always, you are encouraged to trust your own sensibilities where reading my blog is concerned.  If it is difficult to read, remember please that it was also quite difficult to write.  I have been places, done things, which the “average” person might find reprehensible or even disturbing and I do not wish to stir up any psychological traumas lying dormant within you for no good reason.  If you decide to spectate, you do so at your own personal risk.

With all of that said, I look forward to the months ahead.  Maybe we will help each other make sense of the senseless.


I no longer believe in any form of “god”, here’s why:

There are observable black holes all over the galaxy.  Some of them are frightfully near us, most of them far enough away to ignore, for nowbillionyears.  Black holes are caused by a star, like our sun, going supernova.  Know what else happens when a star goes supernova?  Shit-tons of the most basic components of the universe, and possibly the components for life, are flung out into space, sometimes directly at Earth.  It’s been documented that our planet has seen its share of bombardment, so I’m wondering:

What if early humans witnessed a neighboring galaxy meet its end?

I’m wondering this because I am suddenly obsessed with discovering the origin of the “Son of God” story and its various accessories.  I’ve already discovered via this: (warning, clips are long, if you already have a grip on things you can skip ’em)

and this:

that the origin -don’t forget this is part of a sentence that started before the video clips- of the stories regarding the death of the Son of God and his subsequent rebirth was based on the fact that from certain latitudes, our sun literally disappeared for: three days(still does).  From this comes human sacrifice to pay the superstition premium (insurance) that the sun would come back again and not leave them all there to die.  I also learned that in a human’s life time we do not retain a single atom we were born with.  Our atomic structure is in a state of flux.  That is why we must eat, and eat well.  To ensure that we get the proper dosage of certain atoms we rely on plants that offer “fruit”, and vegetation that can offer its leaves but come back again; or in tough times, say, a drought, there are always other animals.

Now conjoin this knowledge with the knowledge that our sensory input and analysis instruments are WOEFULLY limited (depending on which way you look at life.  If it’s a trial of human hardiness, or Darwin’s wet dream(cue irony filter), then limiting sensory input would add to the variety of human expression; if you look at it from a creationist standpoint, the Garden of Eden concept is logically false because the “knowledge of good and evil” would imply all knowledge, while we can only ascertain tiny bits and fragments of genuine knowledge of our surroundings and origins, thereby rendering God obsolete in the equation because God cannot grant free will and limitations at the same time without being called a sadist.  It’s like granting a wheelchair to a paraplegic but insisting they keep the brakes on at all times.

All of this leads me to wonder if our ancestors, before written language (possibly any primitive documentation was destroyed over the millennia) told each other of the death of the “Son of God”, God being the bringer of light and life (the sun), the son being the smaller-looking star that went supernova.  The supernova would cause similar conditions to our own big bang and would spew anything from singular atoms to chunks of molten rock and hard rock out into the surrounding galaxies.  So let’s argue a chunk large enough were to smash into earth and possibly tilt us off our North-South axis(and also cause massive Tsunamis/floods).  In the upper hemisphere you would see the sun disappear until the earth’s East-West rotation brought the sun back into view. It happened to take three days.  That could have been the first time, the start of the fable.  The start of human sacrifice.  The start of honoring the heavens.  The birth of the Higher Power concept.

Of course, if I were there I wouldn’t have interpreted it any differently.  However, I am an atheist now.


Why You Should Take Mushrooms (especially if you are morally against them)

Wait a goddamned minute, you skittering scoundrel, before you get all excited and loose the lemmings that are your ignorant beliefs.  I want to be clear as Al Franken’s conscience when I say FIRST and FOREMOST that ANY drug you are not familiar with should be treated as a possible toxin.  However, I’ve only done mushrooms once, and I did not have visuals.  So it’s not like I’m some drug expert.  Quite the contrary, I’m terrified to the point of contentment in capping the whole affair at mushrooms and saying good-day to the more chaotic side of my consciousness.  I’m not a visual artist, and while a “trip” may be really neat, for me the benefit of Mushrooms is the high before the trip, and if you’re moderate about how much you take, you can simply have the best high of your life without any visuals at all.  That is exactly what I experienced, and I can truly say that, in the sense of feeling unified and at peace with where I fit in with this crazy ‘world’ we’re all trying to have identities and voices in… it was the best night of my entire mind’s life.

I will exclude org, food and nasal gasms from the contender’s list.

I do not need to know who you are, where you’re from, what you did in order to recommend a mushroom high.  Maybe you hate escapism?  My mushroom experience did not feel like an escape.  It felt like a road map that hugged me when I understood it.  It felt like constant positive reinforcement for learning.  It felt like I couldn’t have enough close friends or possibly stop doing good in my environment for anything.  It made good the only option, and there was nothing linguistic or ambiguous about it.  It was Nirvana.

So there you have it: I want everyone to experience Nirvana, and I don’t even have to start a cult about it.  Just try a small amount of mushrooms and report back to me.  I can’t wait to hear the wonderful experiences you had.

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