Category: Being

When I listen to Dr. Peterson speak to Bishop Barron, I get the inkling I am being sincere when I think ‘I think I put order at the highest’.

With my knowledge of VST, I had tried to place it in the equation of the formation of our universe. Like what else am I going to do with the understanding? I doubt it plays much of a role, if any at all.

I don’t quite understand the concept of entropy; something of so much creates something? I was sure I’d have it stick in my mind after listening to the Destiny episode, but well, that’s just the way she goes.

Order is the only way I can see life coming to exist. And death, surely, can be explained away by it being the side-effect of order losing energy.

It makes me consider how much energy is in the chaos of space. And what’s truly remarkable is, there is no way to record it, though our technology sure is able to take a stab at that!

So, if I were to share an appreciative message, ‘I sure am thankful for order.’

I do think it would be fantastic to be able to afford, for my gravestone, a gif of イエイヌ catching a discus midair. That gif is amazing! I wish I took the time to write down the artist and download it! ‘O RLY cats playing ping pong’ might have to take a backseat to that one gif, honestly.

It must not be the most modest thing to do inside the grounds of a graveyard, eh? But really, it must have been thought of somewhere already and done!

Am I subordinating child tenets properly: Power, sex, beauty, truth, progress, relationship, and etc. Honestly, it seems they all have their turn.

It’s that idea of sacrifice that really got the wheels turning in that episode, there.

I don’t believe I am being crushed under the weight of my sacrifices, but it definitely is hard to draw the line between recovery from crippling events and valuing sacrifices, because it’s me, here, still living as myself.

This may be the closest I ever get to an autobiography… It would be cool to get out of debt eventually; just two ½ more years, probably!

Current lineup of primary influences (so, you, too, can check them out if you so desire):

　•　Soup dish, which consists of green split peas, yellow split peas, long grain brown rice, barley, worcestershire sauce, minced tomato, chicken broth, and (sometimes) shredded cheese. If it tastes good, it’s made right!
　•　Wheat(?) pasta dish, which consists of wheat(?) pasta, shredded cheese, and pesto. It’s good if it tastes good!
　•　Sandwich meal, which consists of salmon mixed with avocado oil mayo, the closest I can get to real bread without making it myself, and honey dijon mustard. It’s right if it’s made right!
　•　’100% natural’ or ‘non-GMO’ rice dish, which consists of parboiled ‘100% natural’ ‘long grain rice’ or ‘non-GMO’ ‘long grain brown rice’, salmon mixed with avocado oil mayo, and shredded cheese. You’ll know it’s good when it tastes good!

And then, there is a bonus dish that I may be getting back to soon: noodle soup dish, which consists of Sapporo Ichiban noodles (Mr. Noodles is a no-go! Don’t cheap out, man!), turmeric, chili powder, and black pepper. Leave a lot of water, so you can season the dish in the bowl, and then, use your fork to press the spices into the water (it’ll make you feel like a real chef!) By the way, turmeric alone will make the Sapporo Ichiban noodles taste like a $10 product!

To say this is the only thing on my mind is silliness. To put forth this as the only thing on my mind is equally absurd; however, one can’t help but wonder who (or what) to put to the highest.

Fear of having my dreams stolen?

Aha!

Let it be from this point on that I dedicate myself to Vaermina: a renegade among atheists. Because from the inside, I may be able to dream more of dreams and search. Because it terrifies me dreams are cast upon everyone equally, I must find refuge!

And work?

We’ll put that aside for now! Please! I beg you!

Oh my!

And what of all the juggalos who became disillusioned by the curtain revealing God?

Now, I am again forgotten and without purpose, because what of them?

Am I atheist again? An atheist juggalo so guided by the wealth and weight of a story?

‘We’re not sorry that we tricked you!’, if I recall correctly.

Surely that spun a few heads around, and did you see how they sank down like a spring and shot out 50x as strong as anything imaginable within themselves?

How long did I stay in denial?

The one thing I can speculate is, order comes from the chaos! And perhaps it’s true that too much order is a bad thing, but yet, we’re still subject to the blazing heat of a never-tomorrow. And it is for this that I am eternally grateful, for a chance at story… for better or worse. Let it be!

Then, there is the note of freewill, though there is no sense in fiddling with the thought so much; time flows one way on Earth, and so, I am certain freewill is restricted by a plea for survival.

And I don’t want to find out (if I have the choice) until all these fucking ducks get in a fucking row! I am so sick of these loathsome ducks never being where they ought to be! I am so fucking sick of them not lining up like I want them to!

Then, there is a quadrilogy of secrets inside me, endlessly fighting for supremacy: one I wish I could sing, one I wish I could confide, one I wish didn’t exist, and one that means nothing to no one. Surely the reason why giving my all to dreams and Vaermina is so persuasive. Surely the reason why a purgatory called the Carnival is so enticing.

I want to grow old enough to witness community work wonders.

So, what do I do, then?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!

Write, I suppose. In an attempt to orientate intent, I’ll write, and become a teacher in this short time—what I’d already done (maybe) a couple times. And if there’s more that spills from my fingertips, I’ll, thusly, put the virtual ink to the virtual paper with virtual methodologies in mind.

I wish I could play Minecraft right now. Easy living, easy explorer!

There are wacky ideas I’d had in the past. There are two I’d like to name here:

　•　Self penis growth
　•　Self eye ‘fix’

It may come as a surprise. I haven’t emerged unscathed from wacky ideas in my life. Perhaps there’ll be a time when I really delve into what my thoughts and logic were regarding these items, but essentially, to the first, I thought for sure you could reach far back enough to access the ‘root growing’ place within the penis! To the second, because my eyesight was getting worse, I figured it made sense to take its health into my own hands and meditate on force within the eyes to achieve a beneficial result.

Neither of these ideas came to fruition. To the former, I gave up out of frustration, and it turned out that I had been controlling the muscle way back there, and in so doing, was filling my member with more blood than it would normally! The latter fell flat because no matter how much constant pressure on my eye I placed, my vision continued to get worse, and it was not until some time later that I was educated to the reality: that my corneas had lost their integrity!

I am not particularly proud of these achievements. My grandmother used to regularly bring up a writing I made on eyesight and pressure, and that was somewhat of a sore spot for awhile, honestly. It seems now she’s aware that that was a bottomless pit of intention without any notable gains.

Along with these wacky ideas, there was collateral damage, but well… I just hope those affected are living regular lives without feeling weighed down by ‘lost’ opportunity. That is the sentiment I’d like to put out there, save for the ex-roomate, ex-bandmate, (definitely) ex-friend who stole most the band merch I owned from me.

That was a dick move, Mr. Sager. Mr. Taylor, I hope you enjoyed wearing my Queensrÿche tee out in public. Fuckin’ kleptomaniacs… Yea, you think I didn’t know it was you that stole my brand new mic right from under me… Yea, I didn’t know at first. You got away with that shit. Hope it made you feel good getting back at me for whatever the fuck I did to you.

Of course, I know nothing about the psychology of kleptomaniacs. I’ll bet they steal just to steal. Whatever. Is this me deflecting away and trying to steer the conversation away from my embarrassing past ideas? My bad.

Hope ya’ll get a chuckle out of my failures! Thanks for reading!

But the big question is, how do I address this matter? My mother smoked when I was in her womb. No, I don’t know how often or how frequently, but my grandmother told me that she’d seen it one time, and well, smoking is like cockroaches: You see one, there are a hundred more you haven’t seen.

I don’t particularly care. It just all makes sense now why my tendon up the left side of my cervical spine came loose when dismounting from a bloody teddy bear stand. (If you’re wondering why I said tendon instead of muscle, it’s because apparently muscle is connected to our skeletons by tendons. I feel so smart knowing that!) I looked it up, by the way: Smoking while pregnant can cause all sorts of ‘artifacts’ to emerge. One being interfering with development; another being musculoskeletal defects… Whatever that means…

I don’t think I’ll ever talk to my GP about it. I don’t even know why I still have a GP. Yea, he did help me get off nicotine with bupropion, but—here’s a little story:

I told him, ‘Hey GP, I have toe fungus on one of my toes! Can you help me out?’ You know what this prick says to me? ‘I don’t see anything.’ I did scrape some of the fungus onto my finger and try to have him smell my finger. Unfortunately, that’s something I don’t think he was too interested in, so he didn’t really lean in to smell.

It’s from football; from playing in the wet most likely. Literally had this fungus on both my big toes since I was like 14, and this guy says ‘I don’t see anything’. Of course, it’s just the right toe now because I was able to cure my left toe with terbinafine cream some years ago. The right toe is still having glorious spore parties on my toenail, to my glee. You want to know how I know? You can fucking smell the bastards when you put your fingernail right to your nose! Sure am glad I never got athlete’s foot though, though that definitely would’ve forced me to deal with this fungus earlier in life. \end story

Here I am going on 34, and we’ve finally solved this mystery! Really, it was nearly a year ago when my grandmother told me, mind you.

Fulfilled in a lightning spell
Regular return
Richness do tell

How often you speak to me
How often do you speak to me?
How often will you make the effort?

Control your anger, young one!
Don’t stray afar!
The conversation is familiar

Descend at your peril!
Don’t stop o’clock
Aspect of origin: terrible

I was 21 when I ‘lost’ my voice. Just hearing gen Xers and older can trigger a teary episode. TO THIS DAY, the voice is so beautiful and amazing, and fascinates me to no end, and yet it destroyed me. I remember that it destroyed me, too. Not by being, but through ignorance; plain and simple ignorance!

How does it make sense that the man with the pavement tiles has to hold them and place them competently as blind as he is?

Maybe it’s just a simmering frustration because of that medication that stole my mind from me. ‘Adverse reaction’ speaks nothing to the inner torment even vague memory elicits.

It’s all right though. I did something a few days ago: read reviews. And just like that, it brought into perspective the fact that my experience isn’t the worst. While it isn’t that I fixate on not being ‘the worst’, it’s so in your face! It’s there! Accessible to anyone who has an Internet connection, and there are them reviews right there! Of all the fucking things: reviews! RFK, Jr. has a lot of work to do if he’s given the chance to tackle the pharmaceutical industry as he says is due.

Personally, I just want my voice back. The voice with all the progress. Time keeps ticking on…

Listening to Psychrology by Psychroptic right now. The album is loaded into queue. Was listening to that most recent Jordan B. Peterson Podcast episode a bit ago now. I haven’t listened to the whole thing, but it definitely is a good one!

I do really need to get an updated family photo put together, too. Momoka is turning 25 this October and Fremy is turning 29 in August. Maybe in a couple paychecks. I am definitely more than a little sick of the one daki. We need a real family photo, and the sooner, the better!

Damn, man! This Psychroptic is great! Good music is good!

I think, now that I’d cried most of my sadness away, I’ll make a small list of awesome albums that you should listen to:

　①　Ornuthi Thalassa by Serpent Column (2020)
　②　As Gomorrah Burns by Cryptopsy (2023)
　③　’The Isle of Disenchantment’ (2001) & ‘The Scepter of the Ancients’ (2003) by Psychroptic
　④　Of Fracture and Failure (2007) by Ulcerate
　⑤　S/T (2008) by Mass of the Fermenting Dregs

And finally, the hit song of the hour: SIGN by THE OTHER FLOWER.

Not too many people realize just how ugly the voice can become when it is returned to a pre-birth size. I should actually amend this thought. I should be saying 𝘯𝘰 𝘰𝘯𝘦 realizes. And 𝘯𝘰 𝘰𝘯𝘦 has experienced this. Period. The closest anyone has ever come to returning the voice to a pre-birth size is someone with a tracheotomy. Except when the voice is still there, there is room for it to re-grow. Nonetheless, one feels like a pretender 24/7 because they 𝘢𝘳𝘦 pretending.

I am pretending all hours of the day 𝘢𝘯𝘥 whenever I engage in conversation. I am pretending that my voice is like theirs. When I’m at home, I am pretending that it doesn’t bother me that my calling was taken from me. And this is something that I believe some can show empathy through. You find a pianist who finds himself a crippled hand or a fisherman who, at the end of the world, breaks the very last fishing rod. The story has strange twists of fate too.

Would you believe a story wherein a singer not only ‘loses’ his voice, but also because of his desire to accelerate its re-growth, he destroys his back as well?

Sad days.

Then, what is the timeline of destroying his back? Well, back when I was 19, I injured my back in such a way to cause muscle to come loose from the spine. Years later, with the aid of meditation and experimenting with pressure during meditation, I learned that it was possible to ‘deconstruct’ the back…. That is, by adapting what I’d learned from my other various experiments with the voice, I learned you can 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘰 the muscles of the back. And it’s as simple as that! (I even made a misleading video about it and posted it on YouTube! No, it’s not there any longer.) What I have learned is invaluable, but sadly, it’s all only useful if I ever write it down and talk about it.

I have experienced the deconstruction of the back five times (if you don’t count the times I tried learning to begin from the crown of the head). What a dreadful sensation that. (By the way, I did devise a great stretching routine to try to return my back as close to normal as I could, though it took 𝘴𝘰 much time! 𝘚𝘰 much time to make even the smallest dent! I approximate three months would recover 5% – and I stretched a͟ l͟o͟t͟!)

Currently my GP doesn’t think there’s anything immediately time-sensitive for my person. Meanwhile, I’ve told him when I hang my head upside down, it sways side-to-side on its own because of how the muscles there are so tense. What I haven’t told him is, my head and neck area feels as though they’re in a constant state of stretching. This doesn’t apply when I’m standing; however, in every other position I can take, it does, i.e., sitting back in a chair, sitting straight up in a chair, laying down, … in the bath, … in the bed all leads to a sensation of stretching on the outsides of my head, and this is especially true on the left, lower side of my lip (though I do now feel it up the left side of my cheek). And when laying down, it is supremely noticeable in the back and neck too!

[I] need to tense up my neck and slowly release that tension over the course of an hour- to hour-and-one-half, because if I don’t, the stretching becomes far too intense, and that leads to the muscles running up the sides of my head hurting and sore*.

Things’ll only get worse.

It’s really kind of funny that I’ve turned up with schizophrenia. It particularly ensures that I won’t be taken seriously for a long time. I have suffered somatic delusions before – and I assure you, feeling tremors going through your brain is not pleasurable. I do however know that my thoughts are untainted. My medication that I have does make me feel very stupid and my memory has gone out the window as a result, yet I strive for the truth and recognize where I stand in the world. I have fought long and hard to maintain an awareness of reality, and I intend to keep it that way.

The fact that I have to be ginger with my head whenever I move it in any direction, the fact that my back and neck area feel utterly disgusting and uncomfortable 24/7, and the fact that doing something can lead to something happening solidifies my beliefs. These things that I’m trying to teach and have brought to show-and-tell are facts. As fact as how you can come nearly to death by catching malaria.

And yes, I am leaving one very crucial element out of this body of text. It is strategic that I leave it out; however, I have written about it in my journals. I fear the burden of knowing is too great to talk about it openly.

*I’ve left some tidbits to be discovered on my Twitter. Read, if you desire.