One week. in The grotesque metamorphosis of a Bi-Polar human into a Tri-polar monster.

I made it an entire week without having a drink, but then today I jammed with my buddy and now I’m drinking.
waaah waaaah.

I never said I was going to quit forever.

It feels great to be jamming, for real, it feels incredible. My fingers are getting calloused.

It’s weird…I used to have a diary on OD, and I used to always write about current affairs, and topics that were trending…I liked my Diary to have a finger on the social pulse…and it seems like right now would be the perfect time for me to be weighing in with my opinions about all sorts of shit.

But the truth of the matter is that I don’t think my opinion actually matters to a lot of what’s going on in the world, because I don’t actually believe that a lot of what’s going on in the world actually matters very much.

That’s not to say that suffering isn’t real and I’m not saying it’s not terrible.
I’m not saying injustice and inequality are anything but wrong.
I am anti-racism and bigotry.

I just…I’m trying to find a meaning to life and I can’t find one, and I don’t think LIFE actually matters all that much. I don’t think pain actually matters all that much. I don’t think happiness matters very much.

I know that whatever doesn’t kill you makes you stronger…and then you die anyway.

Now, with all of that being said, I also don’t think anyone needs to just lay back and accept whatever happens to them with a shrug like, “I guess I’m just getting fucked and I have to be okay with that.” That’s not what I’m saying.

This earth is The Brutal Majestic Kingdom and you need to fight if you’re going to lay your head down here.

Fight for your own survival, fight to manipulate the world around you, fight to change, fight to come together.

Just know that none of it matters outside of THE NOW.

That’s why people spouting out their opinions is just kind of trite to me.

I feel like it’s pretty obvious right now what’s right and what’s wrong.

…anyway, I just felt like I should probably explain why I only write about my life and my trivial little bullshit problems instead of world problems.

Besides, I’m not nearly stable enough to begin pretending like I can fix the worlds problems…I am 32 and I live with my parents and my prized possessions are my Ninja Turtle collection and my car…and my car is only a prized possession because it costs more than anything I’ve ever purchased before.

I guess I like my guitars too.

Oh, and my shoes.

Do you know I haven’t worn a shoe with laces in over ten years?

I don’t do laces.
It all started with a pair of Velcro shoes when I was 21, and then it turned into nothing but boat shoes and slippers for a while…and then I slowly started to find dress shoes, dance shoes, casual shoes…all without laces. There’s an entire world of shoes without laces and it’s all mine.
Who the fuck has time for laces?

“Mama…just kill the man…“

Sometimes, when I’m writing in this thing I feel less lonely. I feel for a moment like what I am writing is important and that maybe someone cares to read it and it’s going to last forever and people are going to dissect it and think “what an interesting fellow”.
But that’s not going to happen.

One of the fucked up things about being Bi-polar is the delusions of grandeur.

“Mama…I don’t want to die…I sometimes wish I’d never been born at all.”

I wish I had so many friends.
I wish I lived with Alec and Cassie again.

That was the best roomate situation in the entire world.
We just worked.

I loved that creepy old house in Salt Lake City.
One night our heat went out and we all had to huddle in the living room around the fire place, all three of us and the dog and the cat, trying to watch netflix and stay warm from the fire and the body heat…no one slept well that night, it was around 0 degrees that night, one of the coldest.

Eff.

Memories…

Sometimes I forget that even though I’ve lived a really hard and fucked up life, I’ve also had a lot of really good times.
I’ve met a lot of good people.
I’ve had great friends that have become my family.

My actual family is fucked…but that’s okay.

I will never have a family of my own…and that’s okay.

I will never have a wife.
I will never own a house.
I will never be rich.
I will never be a working artist.

…and that’s all okay.

None of this matters.

I’m out of my depression, by the way…I’m not depressed right now.

A lot of people think that spiritual awakenings lead to this beautiful water-color life.
Nah, it’s a lot scarier and weirder and harder than that.
Being Zen is difficult in a material world.

yeah.

I don’t know if I’m Zen.
I don’t know what I am.
It doesn’t matter.

I love you.

• Dane