"Violet, you're turning Violet, Violet!"

     I realize the following text provided may make me appear to be slightly creepy, or full-blown creepy depending on your conservatism, but since when have I cared about what people think?

     I broke up with Sheila.  I didnt miss her so much as I missed her daughter.  She is eight-years-old and one of the most beautiful children I have ever laid my eyes upon.  Her name is Violet, has a thin frame, brown hair, a roundish face, a wearer of simple clothes with knee-high socks often if skirt-ed.  My fondness of her only increased when she decided to drool on my shirt whilst half-asleep watching Finding Nemo.

     Sheila, Violet and I went to the mall one day and I asked Violet,

     "Would you like a stuffed animal?"  As I pointed to the Build-A-Bear store.  We went in and she chose a bunny that she filled with their cotton-pulsing machine.

     "Can I get bunny a pretty dress?"  Violet asked me and matched her big brown eyes with my own.  It was at this time, this split-second of self-realization in myself that something surged like a flood of water to spill out from a well and puddle the dirt around me, making my surroundings muddy and soft like I could walk no further then to steep deep inside the Earth.  And that's what this was all about:  Why I was put on Earth?  To do good?  No.  To share my life with someone who may be my soul-mate?  I don't believe in soul-mates.  To be a father?  Yes.

     "Sure."  I said with a tone I almost had to hide from Sheila.  I didn't want Sheila to know how deeply affected I was by her daughter as it most certainly would have put me on odd grounds given I was fucking Violet's mom and Im supposed to be involved only with Sheila — not have this irresistible paternal connection with Violet.  Sometimes I often wondered which relationship I was in.  Was I with Sheila as my girlfriend or was I paternally enamored in being a dad for Violet?

     I can't ever understand dead-beat dad's who have kids and aren't ever involved in their lives.  I just find it morally repugnant, and this is coming from someone in whom has very few morals to begin with.  Should my paternal urge be linked to my sense of morality?  Im not sure.  In the case of Violet I find no morality involved beyond raising a child to be a happy, fulfilled self-actualizing human being.  In the case of Violet, ... Well, it's very simple for me:

     I miss her and her bunny.



Meow Meow Pussy-Kat

     Too many girls!!!  My love-life has recently exploded and I cannot continue bouncing around with three girls and managing their texts and calls without one or another noticing.  Luckily, this additional girl in my life, which now made it three, makes my choice very easy unto who I want and who to be faithful to.  Who is this girl?


     Kat and I met on POF, we had lunch on Monday and I completely fell for her the moment I set my eyes the little thing.

    To my delight, Kat is short, and I looooooove short girls.  She wore a creamy, slightly red shirt with a heart necklace and a red skirt that came just above her knee.  She smelled like kiwi and papaya, her laugh is infectious and when she stands in the Sun she looks like an angel.

     After we had lunch we perused the Boston area talking and mingling with the booth-stand shops to which I bought her a feather-boa, to her girly pleasure.  After a convocation of about an hour or two, Kat and I took the train to her place where we met her dog and roommate.  After some confabulation about something or another — topics all nugatory —  I leaned in for a kiss, and she did not resist.  Oh heavens!  Her lips were as soft as clouds.  Bliss that I may be so lucky to one day be called her boyfriend — I may very well just be the luckiest boy on Earth!

I broke up with Sheila yesterday.  I don't want to talk about it.

     I've had it with Maggie.  She has no sense of humor, misinterprets me constantly, calls me an "idiot", I can't say the most remotely right thing to her and talking with her half the time is just one big bullshit hassle.  On top of that she throws away a friendship of over a year.  What a fucking joke.

" ... Good boy"

     This entry is dedicated to blue_aardvark .  You want smut, you got it.

     It was Saturday night and I had been sipping menage a trois red wine, smoking, meditating on the couch bemused by the figure that is Rose, just opposite my couch, looking at each-other; our phones, each-other, our phones, each-other, puff-puff, take a sip.  We had just made out as we always do.  She wore a tight red shirt and black jeans; heavy on the mascara.  She was in her perfect form tonight, and part of that form was being a bitch.

     "So now that you're fucking this Sheila chick ... are you like, gonna be a dad?"  Rose asked, with a hint of annoyance in her voice.  I had come to have her annoyance grow upon me as its happened so many times it's like the seasons of the Earth — we cant go to long without the sky falling snowflakes.  I merely accept it at this point, but at this point there was a shift in our sexual centrifugal force.  We were both now cheating on our significant others.

     "Maybe I want to be a dad ..."  I replied, very tipsy, very high.  Rose scoffed.

     "Well thats fucking lame.  Have fun taking care of another man's child."  Rose was treating me in a diminutive fashion, with her annoyance and perturbance at about level eight out of ten — a real bitch — but you know what?  I didn't care.  I was hazy.  I. Was.  Hazy.  Filled with thoughts of my own, away from Rose.  I suspected Rose's sour attitude was from jealousy, but who knows?  Rose continued, "Maybe you can buy the kid a dress or pay for her college."  I dont know what sparked in me, but a line from Lost in Translation came to mind that was just perfect for this scene of our own,

     "Isn't there someone at home there to lavish you with attention?"  I said with an attitude.  Rose got up.  Rose went into my room looking pissed.  I followed her as I was worried this bitch was going to swipe some of my drugs, or possibly break something, poke holes in my condoms — who knows.  Rose was upset.

     I entered my room and to my surprise she was just laying on my bed smoking my vellocet.  Her body stiff, she stared at the wall.

     "Hey Mark"  Rose began.  "Remember when you told Paul you would've loved to go down on me more than any other girl ever."

     "Ya, you weren't suppose to hear that."  I replied.  And with that, Rose unzipped her jeans and pulled them off, took another puff and said,

     "Come here."  My heart raced.  Finally!  Finally!  Finally!  Fucking FINALLY!


     I knew this was a power-trip from Rose, but I didnt care.  I walked over to the edge of the bed and eyed her lacey pink panties and on my knees I began kissing in-between her thighs.

     "Pull off my socks" Rose ordered, and I obliged.  As I did so, she crept her red-painted toes up to my lips and invited me to suck on them, which I did abidingly.  I licked in-between her toes and sucked all five of em', her feet smelling perfect — clean, feminine.

      I removed her panties and eyed a smooth-shaven pussy.  It was a work of art.  Minimal stubble, ripe clit, a light birth-mark on the right side near where her pussy meet her thigh and a perfect pink fleshy color for her insides.  I wasted no time.  I pushed up her thighs so I could reach down to her anal cavity, felt her clean butthole with my tongue and licked all the way up to her clit where I teased — didnt get to rowdy with it yet, I still had other area's to work.  And with a couple of strokes of my tongue on both sides of her labia I finally plunged my tongue inside of her warm, fresh pussy.  It tasted a bit like that familiar copper hint, and for the next five minutes my tongue went on a deep-pussy exploration mission.

     Eventually I got to the clit and massaged it clean as Rose pulled on my hair and moaned.  I wanted to make her cum more than anyone else I had ever been with, and with each passing moment I felt it was going to happen.  She was pulling on my hair hard, I almost wanted to tell her to stop because it began to hurt ... but ... well, I accepted the pain as she accepted the pleasure.  And finally she erupted, clinching her thighs together with my head being squeezed.  I couldnt breath as she was cumming, but rather I did my job with both her hands pulling my head in her as she had her paroxysm of pleasure, twitched some, and fell beside herself in a sort of daze as she relinquished her hands from my head and labored her breathing heavily.  A small amount of her natural woman-lube-juice had stained my sheets.  I went to kiss her.

     "Ew"  Rose laughed.  "Your mouth smells like my pussy."  I didnt say anything but kissed her again.  She went to pull up her panties and finally she said to end the whole experience, " ... Good boy."


Oh, oh Sheila

     Sheila had put eight-year-old Violet to bed after she had been sleeping and drooling on my Spring-time, pastel colored themed flannel shirt.  Violet had slumped first to her mommy in sleepy daze, and soon unconsciously made herself comfortable on my shoulder; still in her bright pink cotton shirt to compliment a polka-dotted pink and white dress with knee-high striped socks, she barely awoke from the jostle her mommy had hoisted her up to her shoulder.  Sheila came back from putting Violet to bed and said to me,

     "You just earned yourself some major brownie-points", referring to allowing Violet to drool on me.  Great.  I didnt know I was being scored.  I still didn't know how I felt about Sheila.  I like her, but it often comes after the fact that she tends to stroke my ego a bit.  She has told me, "I love intellectual guys like you.  Its so sexy", "Your mind is incredible" or "I dont know how you keep the girls off you"; all fine compliments, and I had returned them with, "Nice hair" as a pink stripe ran down her dullish-blonde hair.  Sheila is a bit chubby — but not so chubby that it was disconcerting — has freckles, green eyes and a pretty smile.

     I sat on the couch watching TV as Sheila lay on the couch on her side with her head on my lap, her mouth a mere 3 inches from my penis. 'Please dont get a boner, please dont get a boner' I thought as I didnt want to instigate any sexual relations yet knowing that I was quite unsure if I even if I wanted a relationship with her.  All I knew was that one day I wanted to be a dad, but like this?  With her and Violet?  Oh great!  And within a few minutes Sheila giggled and said,

     "Feels like you got excited, huh?"  I got a boner.  I am only male!  "Want me to do something about it?"  Sheila asked.  And folks, as apprehensive as I may have been about Sheila and I, I am not gay.

     "Sure."  I said with a tinge of nervousness  She unbuckled my pants, and I helped her as I lowered them.  My cock was already pre-cumming as it released itself kind of like a spring from being held by my boxers.  Sheila kissed the tip of my penis and giggled,

     "Spongebob boxers?  Hahah."

     "Yup.  I have three of em'."  I replied.

     Regardless of the methods and styles of how a woman performs a blowjob, when it comes down to it, there are only two types of blowjobs:

     a)  Unenthusiastic.  Honestly, if a girl is going down on me and she is just going through the motions and doesn't appear to be enjoying herself, I just want her to stop.  It perturbs me to believe that she is doing it only because she feels like she "has to", which shouldnt ever be the case.

     b)  Enthusiastic  Every guy's favorite!  If she moans, wonderful!  If she asks, "You like that?  Mmmm ..."  or declares "Your cock tastes so good."  Even better.

     In one fell swoop after lightly kissing and licking the front tip of my penis, Sheila took me inside her mouth all the way down to the back of her throat and I moaned.  She held it there, raised a bit and swished her tongue in circles around my penis as she still held it delicately in her mouth.  She continued for ten minutes.

     What can I tell you about the rest of the night?  I could type it, but it would be all smut.  We eventually had sex, my making too much noise at one point slamming her up against the wall as I raised her thick thighs as they wrapped around me.  Sheila had to stop and say,

     "Mark!  Mark ...  Too loud ... too loud ...  Lets go to my room."

     One thing I cannot forget about the night was that in her room as I was penetrating her there was a picture of her daughter on the dresser that I looked at, and this brought on a bout of emotional confusion like 'What am I doing?'  Do I honestly want to be with Sheila?  Does this mean I have to be a dad?' Sheila is already acting like we're in a relationship and seems keen on me getting to know her daughter well, and, ... I dont know.  Am I thinking too hard about this?

A Tale of Two


     "Hey Rose ... "  I greeted her.

     "Hey."  Rose arrived at my apartment Friday night, with a tinge of frustration in her voice.

     "Im fine.  Where's your ____ ?"  I went into my room to get my bowl and lighter.  Rose seemed on an apparent mission to do her business with me:  getting high and making out, and while I couldnt understand what was wrong with her, and though I would have liked to know, the important matter was that she arrived.  Her socks were striped and went knee-high as she almost wore this girdle like shirt that pushed up her pillowy breasts.

     "Be careful ..." I caution as she inhaled, "I added JWH."  Rose didnt care, and with that, her limbs fell softly by her side and eye-lids drooped as I sat on the couch with the TV on, maybe making it not so apparent what we were here for.  Maybe she wanted to talk first, or watch a movie or play Tekken 6. I tried making small talk, all over her answers responding with a quick 'nope' or 'yup' or shrugs.  I didnt want to make it seem like she was there only as a sex object, and technically she wasn't, but did she care?


     Rose immediately sat on the couch, and wrapped herself around me.  I soon immediately took control, laid on top of her, grabbed her arms and forced holding them down on the couch so she couldnt escape; it was exactly what she and I liked, and kissed passionately like a preamble to a porn.

     "You seem a bit friskier today."  I interrupted our love making, and by "friskier" I meant "more aggressive", like she was there only to make out and ready for business.

     "Well I missed you."  She replied.

     "You never miss me."  Something was up with Rose.  "Whats going on, Rose?"

     "Nothing!  I cant miss you?"  And with that, I let it be.  We made out for about half an hour, and after much boob grabbing and dry-humping, Rose, like always, got up and left and went home to her boyfriend.


     "Your daughter?!"  I asked surprised.  Sheila took me to her place after we had met for the first time at the mall after grabbing some coffee.  I wasnt impressed with Sheila.  She could stand to lose a couple of pounds, had this strange ghetto accent and a tucked in chin that I didnt find too appealing.  That isn't to say I didnt enjoy her company, in fact, I made it clear that I met her on the basis of friendship, and thats where it seemed to be staying.

     Sheila lives with her sister and has a daughter, "Violet" sleeping somewhere in one of the rooms.  I met Sheila's sister briefly after she was muddling in the kitchen, then went to sleep.

     "Ya, she's eight.  She's been having trouble sleeping lately ... Dont know if she's gonna bug us."  Bug us?  Was I staying there for long?  I wasn't exactly comfortable.  I dont date or even have friends, usually, with chicks who have kids and I wasn't exactly fascinated in exploring a deeper connection with Sheila, but she sat me on the couch, and before you know it we were watching Finding Nemo.

     "Okay, well, I should probably be going."  I said after about an hour sitting on the couch in her slightly messy living room, clothes flung haphazardly, toys displaced, books .... unshelved.  Just move along, Mark!  Sheila and I got up, she stood close to me .. 'Oh God ... She's into me ...' I thought.  And with complete confidence on her face and voice she asked,

     "Ill see you some other time?"

     "Uh, ya, I can definitely see you.  You seem pretty cool."  And I did think she was okay, but I said it in a tone where I just wanted to stay friends.  Was this in her plan.


Sheila leaned up, kissed me, my being slightly surprised, pulled away, kissed me again, ... and then oh yes ... here came the tongue; she gave me the sloppiest french I have ever had from a girl, spit nearly drooling out of our mouths and she continued for about fifteen seconds before finally stopping.

     "Alright, .... well ... I know you dont like night driving."  She laughed as it was one of our previous topics.  "Goodnight."  And with that I left ... With spit on my chin.


A Springs Invite

     Dr. Jack Belken is a stolid man.   I sat in his office, eating his mint he had placed invitingly on his desk whilst my head wandered around the room eye-ing the knick-knacks and books he chose to represent his legitimacy.  I am not impressed by academia, but I respect it.

     "Your labs at Womens & Infants Hospital showed you have a spike in a hormone which may indicate hyperthyroidism which can lead to some psychiatric problems.  I'd like you to get labs else-where.  Ill print the slip."  Dr. Belkin said.  I'm pretty sure my thyroid is fine.  I looked it up and I dont really have any other symptoms or signs of hyperthyroidism; heck, maybe I would even enjoy it given its weight-reduction properties.  We'll see.

     Rose, Rose, Rose; my continued affair — broiling under the prospect of facing another Summer here in New England, I am not pleased at the seasons for matching me with Rose at this time.  Summer makes me want to die, but Rose makes me want to live and be naughty and intractable in the face of all things good and decent.

     Rose and I kissed at my car after a rendezvous at the mall, as we had done on numerous occasions months ago, and to my pleasing she had been willing like a fox at play.

     "When can I see you next?"  I asked.  She stood there with a freshly kissed faced, soiled by another man's love for her.  Rose and Josh has had been having difficulty with her relationship with Josh ever since she had moved in with in just a couple months ago.  As usual, she had not gone into specifics, but I was never the one to make a wise of something I knew nothing about other then our blatant disobedience towards the sanctity of a relationship.

     "Friday is fine.  Josh is working the evening shift."  And with that my heart soared like a hawk, as some old wise-Indian had taught me.  It was at the time where I knew where the center of the Earth was.

     Therapy has not been fruitful.  I was hoping for a more Freudian psychoanalytic-type deal while she views it more as general counseling, not including my existential feelings on matters of life or death, relationships or goals.  I need to try new ways to fuck with her..  Im growing bored, and I grow bored easily.  

Rose and the Arcade

      I arrived at Paul's door-step.

     "Paul, I need drugs"  I demanded.

     "I thought you werent doing drugs anymore ...."  Paul responded.

     "They're for Rose.  I need to get her high."  I responded.

     "I only have ____ "

     "Give it!"  Rose wouldn't do any hard drugs anyway, so vellocet was perfect.

     Rose, Rose, Rose!  I was delighted by the prospect of seeing Rose again, as I invited her to the arcade with me, with which she replied via text, "Sounds lame, but fine"  Perfect!

     I picked Rose up, and to my surprise she had dolled up a bit; caking up around her lips, shadowing her eyes, making pretty of her cheeks — those round-ish chipmunk cheeks — Oh!  Great heavens that she should smile and form the apple of her round-ish face, red with blush.  Rose and I smoked in my car for about ten minutes before heading inside the arcade.  The idea was to get as high as possible before we ventured into the arcade, and with my supplemental concoction of ginseng, S-adenosylmethionine and wellbutrin, my high became an invigorating, slightly paranoid affair.  Rose, however, was always one to relax and mellow out, dazed and sweet-tempered, I felt that she was in my palm.

     "So waccha been doing lately?"  I asked Rose.

     "Im moving on campus next semester."  Rose replied.

     "What happened to your apartment?"

     "I moved out, Mark.  I thought I told you?  I moved in with Josh and some other kid ..."

     "Oh.."  I replied.  "You like it?"  Rose shrugged.

     "Made me think, is all."  I stopped questioning there, knowing Rose did not like to go into details as far as her relationship with Josh with me.


      We entered the arcade,  and for the next hour we had a blast!

     "Holy shit, Im so fucking high .... "  Rose said as she smoked too much.  We both felt as if the entire populace of rotten kids, teens and their mothers knew we were high, and in the way we were behaving perhaps some of them caught on.  I kept getting confused about my spatial relationships and couldnt coordinate where I was in the larger perspective of the confusing, loud children-infested arcade.  Mean-while, Rose was becoming flustered, "Too many lights and sounds!  Guys dont fucking give up!"

     We played air-hockey.

     "This isnt fair!"  I yelled as Rose was beating me.  "Your boobs are distracting me!"  Rose then took the time to put on her sexy face and push both of her beautiful breasts up, maximizing her cleavage.  Welp!  I lost.

     Next was whack-a-mole!

     "Whack it, Rose!"  I ordered.  She was awful.

     "I cant concentrate!"  Rose replied flustered.  And each-time she whacked her boobs went boing-boing-boing.

      "Rose, you're terrible at this ...."

     "Shut up!"  She smiled and tried to hit me with her cushion-mallet.

     The best part of the night?  We acted completely in-sync of being in a relationship; boyfriend and girlfriend, there wasn't any doubt from any of the children, teens, parents that were there that we were not a couple.  It was the best night I had that I could remember in a long time.


     I drove Rose back to her car after we left.  She was in a good mood, changing my radio stations in the car to garbage music and singing along.  We parked to say good-bye.

     "So!  Did you have fun?"  I asked.

     "Ya, ya ... It was nice being the air-hockey queen, I guess."  Rose replied.  We sat there talking for a good ten minutes in the best conversation I have had in a while; mostly about her — Rose loves talking about herself.

     "Maybe we can do it again some other time .... "  Oh, boy .... and here it comes ... "I missed you."  I revealed.  And I did miss her.  I miss her a lot since I last seen her.  I hated that just two months prior we had fizzled out into a dud, wet-firework when we were previously an explosion of a red-willow blast up in the sky, falling slowly submerging the land before it in a crimson desire — puppy-love at its finest.

     "I have to go, Mark."  She replied.  I became sad she didnt reciprocate my own feelings of being apart from each-other, but in a twist, the way she always does, in a confusing ballet of perhaps her uncertainty, the wrecklessness with which she handles her love-affairs, she bent over and kissed me square on the cheek.  I lit up.  My gut had that familiar butterfly flapping gleefully and the portion of my cheek that was graced with her sweet, red lips warmed and tingled like a localized ecstacy — "and a vision that was planted in my brain, still remains" that of us lying on Paul's blanketed-floor, making out, cuddling in a sweet sonata of "Love in the Morning."

Dinner at Denny's

     I was invited to Denny's for lunch yesterday by Paul, to which I was mildly apprehensive.  I said "Fine" given the evenings I normally spend are riddled with a sort of ADHD — like a motor that drives me, if I have nothing to do I go a little frenetic.

     Paul's following text message:  "Oh and rachel rose and her bf will be there too"  I didnt sign up for this!  I became mortified at the prospect of sitting with this group knowing ...


a) Rachel who is really into me, and I not her

b) Rose, my affections in whom run dear to me in-spite of our wonderfully fulfilling arguments about how she should be with me, and how she is dating an ogre

c) Josh, Rose's boyfriend, to which Rose cheated on for me and in whom I want to rip his fucking head off

d) Paul and Ed, two gays who want to suck my dick

     I was already seated.  Rose arrived with her boyfriend.  There she was.  Rose.  Ah, my darling Rose.  Peppermint mouth, tight-jeaned, squishy boobs, and yes, my dear friends, she put her hair up exposing her radiant nape of the neck for which I turn into a rabid vampire.  Rose, Rose, Rose!

     And ... DAFUQ  ...  Rose';s boyfriend, Josh, promptly and knowingly arrived, as I expected, but yet I still could not help feel surprised at how fucking ugly this kid is.  A chin strap beard, a stupid chain latched from his belt-buckle to his wallet, red-hair, chubby, grubby, flubby grotesque beast of a human being — I instantly wanted to murder this kid.

     I hate Josh ... So. Much.

     Im a fiercely jealous man.  Whether it be my own girlfriends or other girls I am not with, nor can be with, I become furious at any proposition that doesnt include me.  I suppose thats part of why my past 3 "lovers" have been either married or had boyfriends.  When I want something, I want it. Give. It To. Me.  I have no respect for the sanctity of a relationship nor whatever feelings they may have for each-other.

     The dinner went as expected.  I was quiet, my arms crossed most of the time.  A scene in "Lost in Translation" following Bob's extra-marital excursion with the bar-hall singer and the day after pretty much summed up the attitude between Rose and I.  We barely spoke, but glanced at each-other a lot.

     "What are you having, dear"?  The waitress asked.

     "A fruit salad."  I replied.   Paul had to chime in,

     "You go to Denny's for a fruit salad, huh ...."

     "Im on a diet"  I replied.. A boisterous, uproar of laughter followed from the group.  And then Josh had to chime in,

     "Dude!  You cant be serious.  What're you, like, 170 pounds!?"  I wanted to say, 'I had my tongue down your girlfriends throat and she loved it', but what came out was,

     "Nerp."  Thats right, 'nerp'  And gave my annoyed face.

     By the end of the meal I lightened up a bit, and became a rather uneventful gathering of young adults in whom I feel mediocre about, at best, like the banana's in a box of Runts candy, and proceeded with the check,

     "So Mark, how was the fruit salad?"  Josh asked.  It was at that very particular point when I had to make the most of my bull-headed will-power to restrain myself and not lunge over the table and rip Josh's head off.  Rather, I spoke in a calm soothing voice, looked at Rose, then looked at Josh and replied softly,

     "The fruit salad was delicious."  

SHO #2

  • Education & Career Problems

     Some people have relationships, other lesser-species have religion, some people have vanity and some people have their children.
     I have considered the alternate of lifestyle in a career.  I have a degree in psychology, but am doing nothing with it.  Why?  I have schizo-affective disorder and cannot function, at least at a higher level, in your world.  I have resigned myself; like Nixon, I have wire-tapped my senses into the spectrum of your society and said "No, thanks."  Can you believe that?  Your world is too ridiculous to live in.  Some doctors will examine my world-view, how I think and then label me as appropriated by certain nomenclature.

     There is one thing I live for:  Learning.  I love learning.  There's really nothing like learning about some crazy type of deep-sea fish that feeds off of hyperthermal vents at the bottom of the ocean, or learning about how to Sun works, exploring literary or psychological concepts, or philosophically challenging myself to embrace an encumbrance.  I feel good learning.  I feel happy Im progressing and find the world enchanting, almost, with some dew-drops on the corrola of my flowers I am easy to smile when professors have bad days.

     And not to make a polemic out of this as my IQ is very. very average; some people's apathy towards the sciences and literature, or whatever it is they could ever possible want to learn more about life is just appalling.  The human being will more closely place stock in the validity of their culture and seek their immediate sensory input of how others feel first, and make a decision upon it only there-after some normative value has already been assigned, then put value in its science.  To me, there is more spirituality and meaning in the science of dog shit than religion, TV or the eight-hour work day.

     Having said that, Im going back to school in Fall, for nothing more than to advance my brain.  I dont plan to get a new degree; perhaps I should, but that will come—but rather after I have settled back into college life I will at least temporarily be released from my personal crux, and that is:  I am ultimately useless.  Im having this dream Im walking knee-deep in a swamp, with a cane, trudging through with a melted marshmallow consistency, wondering why I am not casting a shadow.

     So what have I accomplished in learning this Self-Help entry?  A long-term goal to go back to school in order to find something greater than you and I, and that sounds very, very familiar.


Self-help Organizer

 I have very little to say in here worth saying.  Would Sam Beckette have a LJ account?  Would Nobokov perverse over little beauties here?  No!  So Im really just changing this to a self-help progress organizer.  As you know, I love progress.

     First off lets start with the most overdone, trivial goal:

  •    Diet.  Meaning Im going one one.  Im 6'2"-ish and 184 lbs.  Ive been lingering at 175 for a few months and it has just steadily risen.  I hate fat people and this is a little gross.  My goal will be 145-150'ish.  I was 145 two years ago when heavilly abusing drugs, so lets see if we can get there sober.

   Ill limit myself to 800'ish calories a day.

     Hopefully most of the vitamins I eat will come directly from food and not from multivatins, though Ill be taking one.  This is a problem that I think I may have in that I try to get nutrition by multivatins when I know personally that I feel much better by eating well-round healthy meals.

  •    No more antipsychotic medications.

   Thats right, folks!  I gave up Abilify 3 days ago, so Im just going to go fucking nuts and log-in here, rant and rave about nothing and let the more eccentric-stylings of Mark take there natural progress.

  •     No recreational drugs

    This would have been very hard for me a few months ago.  I love drugs.  I have a love affair with dextromethorphan and show my beautiful grin on cocaine, but times have changed and Ive realize my body is much less able to handle the stressors of drugs as opposed to five years ago.  Ive cut drugs out from my life a few months ago and I feel im in a good place to resist now.

  •    And for today . Get a hair-cut

    *Cries hysterically*  They always do an awful job!  AWFUL!  And then I wait for far to long to get another because they suck so bad at their job.

     There are two more bullet points that regard my career and education and what my relationship to people is like, but Im sick of typing so that will be next time on my progress report.