It wasn’t a good week last week.
I had an escort and 3 binges at strip clubs in NJ.
I don’t like escorts and I don’t like strip clubs.
I don’t like drinking to get drunk.
I thought I was somewhat mentally ready for this,
but I guess not. This is super depressing. I can’t
believe I turned out to become like this. Depression
isn’t an excuse for such bad behavior, but what it’s
not like I’m happy with myself. I thought I was stronger
than this. I know I don’t need like that much sex.
Like maybe a little to survive, if that, but no way like this.
This is a psych-trip that has spiraled downward. It’s not
easy to admit a weakness, beyond the surface level. If
I am lusting for sex and shit, I need to become more
determined to seek the righteous path. I can’t go down
like this. I admit I was really scared, b/c I thought that
this is it, time has run out, I won’t get back on the right track.
And in a way, it’s true, time has run out, and I am not doing
well. How many setbacks can a person take? With this
type of disease, the shame and embarrassment are actually
compounding the chances of relapse. I need to become
revitalized and transcend this BS. Time is like an enemy
when the recovery starts. The start is very hard, and makes
one feel the impossibility of the task. As the days pass, the
worst is over, the emotions come back under control. The fear
and anxiety abate, and it’s time to be vigilant. So how come
it happens? b/c I forget; like a hurricane’s inertia. Warnings
of impeding doom will not help, but only a strong desire for
righteousness will suffice. In the moment urge and compulsion
are strong, so quick and overwhelming, like a big wave that
crashes over me. Only a superior desire for good things, like
Hawaiian song, can shield my spirit. The outlook is not good
and weakness sets in and that physical weakness causes
mental weakness. I guess just don’t give up the fight.

why does goodness, being good, not appeal so much? i need
detail? what’s good? good is good, but what’s good? not
moving the lawn, not cooking, not washing, or cleaning, not
meditating, not this or that. not painting. what’s good?! i can’t
find this strand! i need that i believe. how can I fight the urge to
just cave in and disappear forever into the darkness? it must be
like a computer program thread or something, the simplicity of just
sitting and drinking in a dark place and looking at girls dancing
must be numbing my pain away. of course it is! how can i find a
mind that wants to destroy this habit? how can i be so dumb to
think that there is love there? lust is there. what is that? it’s
pleasure no? pleasure-pain, yin-yang. how much longer?
don’t be scared. why not? i am. i know, i know it’s destroying me.

One thing, I never think about all the bad times at the clubs right
before I’m ready to go, just about the chance to be really
satisfied. This is perverted right? Anyway, that tells me my
intelligence is being hijacked by my hormones. It happens every
time. This tells me I’m in over my head too.

Success can be liberating or it can be penetrating.
By this I mean put one in shackles.
Like for instance, another painting done could be either.
Another reality would be success right?
How can I transfer all my things from one to another?
And where is the time? I lost the car? Painting is absurd.
Painting in suburbia. I watch this movie, “Labor Day” on TV.
I can’t imagine how all there is and all I do. How it’s doing?
Going to Florida? Gone to Mayur’s. This space; more with less.
Beyond all that, I don’t know the state of mind is more confusing
than…like how can I feel a moment of reasonable peace now?
Where did it come from and why?

If only the real wasn’t so oppressive. I don’t know if this is coming
from luck or what, but it seems too late to convince myself.
Things just have this heavy quality. Donald Judd is smart
like that, doesn’t try to outwit this fact, but uses that too his advantage.
Of course we want light to be interesting! I don’t know why other ppl
think Judd’s work is good, but for me it reminds me of painting. If not for
that, I’m not too sure what I would find so appealing. If not to think of
the object from the painter’s vantage. Too find beauty is a cube or something,
not really sure if that’s so interesting to me.

A victory without a defeat is like sport
but in life what is pain cannot be accomplished
however saddening this occurs
i go nowhere in my dreary mess head
only four-and-one-half percent alcohol
got me passed a day then another day
now i can’t find any purpose
restarts false van on bedford ave
how it happened i became so far
out of reach
now my teeth and my knee
but if all else fails just sink back
into the sand where i came from
———————————————————————
not a time for the right word
and i guess that this crime has been
word has sinned like that
no matter! superfluous role calling
benefits the finger joints. Jeans.
Oh the moon, why all the meds favor u?
sun is weaker since cannot melt the flesh
watching the Elder Brueghel skull’s
birthday cap death flashing lights like
a digital clock glowing red ember…
pie chart rags enough to choke
gun hiding under lamp shade
leather won’t melt but i can’t breathe
i can’t breathe. that’s not him but
society doing work. for the promises
of tomorrow i oblige your wish. i must.

Each life makes its own immitation of immortality. -Stephen King

So hard to write, my thoughts are so confused.
Madness. Hatred. Lust I guess. My thoughts
they sprawl like concrete in America. Heavy
and fast. I was going to say what would I
do if it wasn’t for money? Art-wise that is.
How this culture of doom. Won’t let me be.
The town, the neighborhood. Not my home.
Never could be. The people here. Build
your houses. Say “Hey you doin’?” Talk like
that. And loud b/c they can’t hear themselves
anymore (It’s a loud place). Never enough
respect for this crew. I have been repeating
these ideas for over a decade. Any person
with any intelligence would have left a habitat
like this already, unless you are an animal
trapped in a zoo. It seems I exaggerate, but
that depends on the time of day. The hour or
minute. It is a nightmare. Girls. They are
vicious creatures. Maybe this place more so.
Maybe they have too much testosterone in
their macaroni. The children of these places
should be culled. The teenage boom is. Proud
little dipshits. Parents made the batter. I repeat
too often. Better to keep this post on top. It’s a
vicious cycle. Intolerance tested? I can continue
into some of my conspiracy, more like an evolution
of the Greater NYC Area. This always makes me
sad, divide and conquer. That leaves what? Just
black, maybe Prussian blue. Eggplant red. Channel
surf like I am immortal.

“The pleasure of remembering had been taken from me,
because there was no longer anyone to remember with.
It felt like losing your co-rememberer meant losing the memory itself,
as if the things we’d done were less real and important
than they had been hours before.”― John Green, The Fault in Our Stars

It is not a relationship of love but truth.

Does mind follow matter unlike the saying goes? I think so. Look at drugs.
They can change your mind. Psychiatric drugs are mind-altering. One must
obey the rules of chemistry to a degree. My old man, he takes stuff and acts
out. Have the meds screwed up an already screwed up dude? For sure. Take
Remeron for example. Wait, I’m wrong perhaps. He puts himself into stressful
situations and the body reacts accordingly. Usually in a stressful situation you
need to quickly determine the course of action. He constantly puts himself into
this stressed position though. I’m trying to figure out something and can’t.
The body should respond to stress adequately. The rise and fall of chemicals
is natural. If a person is stressed too often, then the mechanism may
get wacky. This drug Remeron seems weird.
Like if a person gets a stress-load the normal thing would be a rise, then
a fall. But this drug might allow a rise, but prevent the fall?
This is my father:
He won’t give peace a chance. He believes peace is for only after-death.
He’s a drama-freak and stupid enough to deny this honestly.
Now the stress hormone is on the rise, but it cannot fall back
down to it’s natural low level. So the body is locked into a high-stress state,
and the mind must follow. So sad for me. My thoughts hardly making sense. The
modern world does not allow for drugs that relax. These backfire often. Like
alcohol. You must allow the drug to work. If I tell you this is a anti-depression
drug, you must be willing to want that. If you don’t then the drug will fail. This
then goes against my hypothesis that mind follows matter, but maybe it’s a
little of both. Many people like to be depressed or alike, rather than being
elated and full of zest. Some people want to be bitter. Some want to be
salty or sour. My father he wants to be tragic. He likes all the tastes I suppose.
He needs a drug that will allow him to be tragic, not happy. He has given that up.

————————————————————————————————————————————————
So then it would seem that more depression. The first few weeks on an
anti-mess med like a SSRI would be worse or equal than at the start?
I don’t understand the natural flow. Follow me along. Give same to same,
then wait for a change. And it would help out those with anxiety? No mas.

To refresh. My feeble attempt states more serotonin is good for depression,
but bad for anxiety. I think this theory is weak for sure, but it’s a start.

Increase serotonin in the synapse, or perhaps down-regulate
excitatory receptors like 5-HT2x which are believed to be associated
with anxiety.
—————————————————————————————————————————————

I have noticed this thing when I sit at the laptop located in the
dining room. I feel compelled to get up all the time. It usually
happens when I just about to solve a problem, the anticipation
of solving a problem. I immediately get up and walk into the kitchen
or elsewhere. I don’t know why, but it’s consistently happening.
Is this related to dopamine. Too much or too little? They say
dopamine is released in anticipation of reward.

I just lost two sections of writing :(

One was about ADHD and how in theory more dopamine
prevents a “surge” of the same stuff. This spike causes
hyperactivity or short attention.

Two was about SSRI and how they operate. My theory goes.
If the reuptake is blocked via SSRI the auto-receptor will
cease releasing more serotonin into the synapse. The existing
overflow of serotonin will eventually dissipate. The question is
how long does it remain in the synapse? That makes me wonder,
does the auto-receptor detect only the amount or both amount and
length of time in the synapse. Probably the former. So once it detects
and adjusts it’s work is done. So what happens in the synaptic serotonin
diminishes quickly? The neuron is no longer releasing the same stuff.
A period of lack occurs. Unless the auto-receptor also detects the lack
of serotonin, thus it would restart production and release. I don’t
think that’s how it works, just detects excess. So I assume in some
time interval it will resume production of serotonin. If the reuptake is
still blocked, which it probably is, the cycle repeats. I don’t see how
this process down-regulates the monitoring auto-receptor. Unless the
suspension of activity is short and synaptic serotonin is long-lasting.
Or the negative-feedback is more constant during the overload period -
which might be prolonged or not. If the feedback is frequent and regular
and the overload period is long, then I could believe the auto-receptor
would become desensitized over time. Otherwise I can’t believe this
works out too well.

I guess that NRI’s like Atomoxetine work the same theory, but for
norepinephrine.