I’m in a foul mood today & not really in the right frame of mind to do this. If I could let myself take a break from… whatever this is, today would be a day I would take it.
One of the reasons I’m a bit salty is that this has yet to take any real form or direction. It’s fine & good to me to just blither away about nothing, pretending I’m doing something useful by posting those links, & imagine that anyone gives a shit. I do watch the stats, so somebody is reading. I still don’t know if I’m actually producing anything that’s worth reading, informative or entertaining, or if I’m just mewling along, pitiful words from a pitiful man.
Another thing that’s put me sour is I had the Dream again. Ever since I’ve moved home & started dreaming again, I’ve had a familiar dream with different variations. For the longest time, I didn’t dream at all or, if I did, I never remembered it. Apparently, heavy pot use retards dreaming &, brother, I used to smoke a shit-ton of pot, as much as I could whenever I could.
I liked this set up. If I haven’t made it clear, I find reality almost crushingly disappointing. That’s part of the reason I like staying as stoned as possible. If I could do mushrooms everyday, for example, I wouldn’t even hesitate. Knowing what I know about dreams, frightening ones are boring & the good ones just make me melancholy when I rejoin reality.
Usually somewhere along the line, I’ve figured out how to shake myself out of nightmares & the vast majority are rather silly, like a zombie holocaust where the zombies are more annoying than deadly. Once I pick up that I’m in a dream – when something that logically, physically can’t happen – I’ll wake myself out of it. Same thing with “good” dreams, rare those are.
But the Dream is none of those. Again, the scenario may change but the feeling, the theme I guess, is always the same. I’m doing something I used to do & do well. I’m cooking or covering a baseball or game or just going to class. However, I’m doing whatever it is badly. Not only am I doing it badly, I’m doing it in such a way that infuriates the rest of the people I’m interacting with. They begin to hold me in contempt. They begin to hate me. They don’t want me around.
It’s the contempt that gets me. The idea that I’m more of a bother than a help, that people are just letting poor, pitiful Matt tag along because the sorry bastard is lost on his own. I’ve felt this way much my life because, quite frankly, it wasn’t too far away from how the people who raised me treated me. Whether this is reality or just how I perceive things for whatever reason, this has guided & molded my life.
This is why I’m single, never married & only had a handful of romantic relationships last longer than four weeks. That’s why my closest friends are those I only see once in a while. My brother will tell you I don’t trust people because I needed surgery as a baby to open my esophagus. There’s an official name for it, but I’m not looking it up right now. Anyhow, if that’s the reason or not, I don’t trust people & I sure as hell don’t trust anyone to be around them 24/7. I have no idea how people do that.
I like being useful. I don’t have to be a crucial cog, but I like being known as someone that can be depended on. I like when people like having me around. At the same time, I much prefer being by myself. I don’t have a problem being unmarried & not dating because I really, absolutely do not want to be in any sort of relationship. It may just be my anxiety talking, but I am fine with my current monk-like existence, spending time with no one but my mother, my varmints & the occasional extended family member. I really have no desire to go back to Athens or New Orleans or, even, Oregon to see my people. If I had regular access to the good smoke, this would be a perfect existence.
But I have those Dreams & they put me in a foul, unsavory mood. The Sleep came, & I embraced it because I do not want to be in this reality. I’m glad, if nothing else, I’m not having to hold down a 9-5 with this sort of mood. Oh, well.
Do I want to get into the news today? We’re on Day Six of Trump’s little temper tantrum over Dorian not hitting Alabama. Pathetic. Even worse, he’s somehow finagled the current acting head of NOAA, guy named Neil Jacobs (one of Trump’s many “acting heads” for way too many governmental entities) to disavow the National Weather Services bulletin that Alabama was never in danger from the hurricane. So, thanks to Trump, we can’t trust the government to tell us whenever the weather is about to pound the shit out of us. Good job, everyone.
This is funny. Apparently, the GOP isn’t getting the traction they thought they should from refering to Elizabeth Warren as “Pocahontas”. Of course, Warren’s claim that she had Native American ancestry was, to say the least, a stumble. She went on family history, sure sure. My family thought we had Choctaw blood but the same DNA test that told Warren she had a small amount told us we had none. And sure, her employers used her mistake to pump up their diversity claims. And, yes, the big dogs in the Cherokee Nation gave her a hard time for pulling it & she apologized.
But you know what, Republicans & especially Donald Trump? Using “Pocahontas” as a pejorative is still incredibly fucking racist. Furthermore, the average white person, much less Republican, doesn’t give a shit about the trials of Native Americans, modern & past, & calling your political adversary by probably the only Native American – & considering the shit the real woman caught from white folks – name you know just confirms what people think of you, i.e. you’re racist as shit. It’s like claiming black voters are staying on the “Democratic plantation”; whatever slick one you think you’re pulling, this ain’t it.
Finally, Twitter has been a flutter all day because Wide Receiver Antonio Brown apparently called Raiders General Manager a “cracker“. Of course, the plethora of right-wing nerds that infest Twitter are boohooing, just in tears & rending their garments, because “calling a white guy a ‘cracker’ is just the same as calling a black person the ‘n-word’.”
Which is of course bullshit because they never tell you which “n-word” they mean. Certainly we all know, but the fact that you don’t want to be seen as racist (while still being racist, natch) has to mean something. I’m not even going to get into the whole idea that “cracker” doesn’t carry the stigma of 400-plus years of chattel slavery & oppression, because that is goddamn obvious. If I remember right, anyway, it was white people who called other white people “cracker”, so cut the shit, fellow honkies.
Anyhow, that’s today. I’ve been reading a space sci-fi book called The Salvagers by John Michael Godier, & it’s pretty entertaining. Finally, a space book that isn’t a solely military wanking. He also hosts a fairly entertaining YouTube channel where he explores various questions & oddities concerning the cosmos & mankind’s place in it, clearly & coherently for the layman. Check it out, it’s very diverting.
And that’s that.