I'll write a little now...a little later. in The grotesque metamorphosis of a Bi-Polar human into a Tri-polar monster.
- Oct. 26, 2017, 1:12 a.m.
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- Public
I saw my therapist today. We decided that I am going to start exercising and quit napping…I mean, those are mainly her ideas, but I kind of agree with them…I mean, I know exercising will be good for me, I’ve been meaning to do it for a long time anyway…I’m feeling super flabby and gross…disgusting even. I look at myself and I just see this fat, hairy lump…some disgusting mass of carbon…like a fart in human form.
I played disc golf today even though it was 100 degrees out.
And then I walked the dog.
And then I rode this shitty old bike I found…I rode that thing around for about ten minutes, but it was just too damn hot and the thing is stuck in first gear or something, it’s kind of a pain in the ass to ride.
So I came home and cracked open a tall boy.
I decided I’ll get drunk and then go for a bike ride tonight because riding bikes drunk is extremely fun.
One time, when I was living in SLC, I was super wasted drunk and I rode my bike into a bunch of newspaper stands and suddenly this cop was helping me up and he was like, “Bruh, I could give you a DUI right now” and I was like, “No you can’t, I’m on a bike, hahahahaha.” And he was like, “Yeah, bruh…I can still give you a DUI.” and so I walked my bike home and he followed me the whole way and it was snowing and I was like, “Man, fuck Utah…I should just cap this pig and steal his wallet and his gun.”
But I didn’t have a gun.
I probably wouldn’t have shot him even if I did because I’m not a violent person, I just like to daydream about being some hardcore gangster.
I used to sell drugs and I carried a gun then, but I never had to use it and I’m glad for that.
I liked doing illegal shit because it was fun, I didn’t want to hurt anybody.
I’m waiting for my friend, Brittany to come and pick me up because her Grandma just went to the hospital and is probably going to die, but she needs to buy some stuff for a costume for a Halloween party because Halloween doesn’t stop for Death and sometimes you’ve gotta party.
She asked me to go to the party but I’m not feeling human at all today and I look like shit and feel like shit and even though I showered I’m sure I’m still just filthy and sweaty and nasty and ugly and some sort of mutant freak who doesn’t know how to talk to people anyway.
I think tomorrow I’m going to go get contacts again.
I’ve been rocking these glasses for almost a year now…like ten months or something.
They’ve been a nice little thing to hide behind.
They’ve definitely been a shield to block off any advances from the ladies because they make my nose look too big and my eyes look too small.
But now I’m feeling like maybe I don’t want the glasses anymore.
Also, I miss wearing sunglasses.
Maybe I just want to look good again.
Maybe I should go to California Girls and go fuck some hookers.
I have the money…
hahaha, I probably wouldn’t even be able to get it up on my meds.
Plus, I don’t care enough.
I’m not into it.
meat bags.
I am lonely…I’m sick of being lonely.
Anyway…
…maybe I’ll write more later, I need to pop open this bottle of wine and have a glass before Brittany gets here…you know, because of anxiety and shit.
yeah…so…I love you, we’ll talk later.
-Dane
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