"...which was that I could know nothing and that the best that I could do was to hang myself--"
--Leo Tolstoy
Thursday, May 30, 2019
The Symptom of Sex
I bought the line that said, "If we're friends, having sex will bring us closer, on a different level."
Sex always manages to fuck shit up, perfectly good shit like a loving, open relationship where two people respect each other, and don't play games.
To fall in love with someone, who is your best friend, and your best lover--I've never met him.
Sex always manages to fuck shit up, perfectly good shit like a loving, open relationship where two people respect each other, and don't play games.
To fall in love with someone, who is your best friend, and your best lover--I've never met him.
So Silent Now
My phone is so silent now, like no one has ever cared about me, like no one ever will--but, ah, the thrill of a shrill ring or ding. Now I'm connected back to earth, I'm no longer floating away from society and from people. I have one small string pulling me in closer.
What happens when it snaps?
What happens when it snaps?
The Fellow
My doctor at Stanford Pain Management Clinic is unusually handsome, graduated from Harvard Medical School, has two degrees in Biomedical Engineering, and is now a fellow at Stanford.
I wonder what makes these people tick, did they have to work hard, harder than anyone else, or was the gift of intellect bestowed upon them like a crown on a king?
I'm always a little nervous when I see him. We are probably close in age. Does he see me as anything besides a hospital gown? Would that be improper?
I wonder what makes these people tick, did they have to work hard, harder than anyone else, or was the gift of intellect bestowed upon them like a crown on a king?
I'm always a little nervous when I see him. We are probably close in age. Does he see me as anything besides a hospital gown? Would that be improper?
Plumage, Part II
Some people will say that I must miss the sex, if anything.
With as many medications I'm on, I rarely even think about it. I remember earlier days when I was compulsive about it, but those were my twenties, and--sigh--I've gotten older. I'm no longer manic or hypomanic. While moving, I found a box of old business cards from the Agency. In the picture, I was lying down in lacy black panties. Who would think that at some point, that was me?
Who would have thought that girl would book the most shows, top of the gorgeous girl pile?
If I was fifty pounds lighter, I would probably go back to dancing, at least while I still could. Back in the days when I was hit on all night long. I didn't pay attention to the men, the men paid attention to me.
Maybe I use the weight gain, the fat, to hide behind. I've wondered about that. Men don't notice me now, and if they do, they don't say anything.
With as many medications I'm on, I rarely even think about it. I remember earlier days when I was compulsive about it, but those were my twenties, and--sigh--I've gotten older. I'm no longer manic or hypomanic. While moving, I found a box of old business cards from the Agency. In the picture, I was lying down in lacy black panties. Who would think that at some point, that was me?
Who would have thought that girl would book the most shows, top of the gorgeous girl pile?
If I was fifty pounds lighter, I would probably go back to dancing, at least while I still could. Back in the days when I was hit on all night long. I didn't pay attention to the men, the men paid attention to me.
Maybe I use the weight gain, the fat, to hide behind. I've wondered about that. Men don't notice me now, and if they do, they don't say anything.
Plumage
For the most part, I've managed to escape situations like this (i.e. waiting for some man to come back and re-establish communication). I avoid Tinder and Bumble, only occasionally flipping through it during school breaks.
The only way you can avoid someone disappointing you, is to avoid him all together.
People will remind me about love and how great it is, I see pictures of newborn babies on Facebook with happily married young couples, but I've been in love. At some point, which I'll never know, I might even had been pregnant. Love makes you crazy, and if you're crazy to begin with, the craziness blossoms into total insanity or madness. Obsessive thinking, anxiety, etc. As I tell my friends, I've been in love once, and I don't plan on repeating the experience.
I do pretty well at avoiding love. To be honest, love doesn't come and find us. We have to be at least somewhat open to the experience. My lab buddy in Microbiology this semester was very handsome, but also engaged. He was sweet too, often cleaning our portion of the lab all by himself. He let me look over his notes (and with the instructor approval), steal his answers if I missed a lab from going up to Stanford. He paid attention, and he did good work. He was also my age, a cop wanting to change occupations. I thought about offering him a beer in thanks of being my buddy all semester, but I never did. If I was younger, I probably would have.
I don't go out to bars any more, I've used the excuse that I'm gay on a few men.
Elijah reminded me that I don't like the stress, the worrying, the waiting, perhaps I'm too old but I don't see the benefit to all this colorful plumage.
The only way you can avoid someone disappointing you, is to avoid him all together.
People will remind me about love and how great it is, I see pictures of newborn babies on Facebook with happily married young couples, but I've been in love. At some point, which I'll never know, I might even had been pregnant. Love makes you crazy, and if you're crazy to begin with, the craziness blossoms into total insanity or madness. Obsessive thinking, anxiety, etc. As I tell my friends, I've been in love once, and I don't plan on repeating the experience.
I do pretty well at avoiding love. To be honest, love doesn't come and find us. We have to be at least somewhat open to the experience. My lab buddy in Microbiology this semester was very handsome, but also engaged. He was sweet too, often cleaning our portion of the lab all by himself. He let me look over his notes (and with the instructor approval), steal his answers if I missed a lab from going up to Stanford. He paid attention, and he did good work. He was also my age, a cop wanting to change occupations. I thought about offering him a beer in thanks of being my buddy all semester, but I never did. If I was younger, I probably would have.
I don't go out to bars any more, I've used the excuse that I'm gay on a few men.
Elijah reminded me that I don't like the stress, the worrying, the waiting, perhaps I'm too old but I don't see the benefit to all this colorful plumage.
To Be "Ghosted"
Millennials call it "ghosting," but back in my days, we just called it being ignored for some allotted amount of time that we could never comprehend.
"I hate being ignored," my friend Rosa told me once. It's a truism for all women. We hate it. We like talking, we like to think that talking helps, we talk to bond, we talk to alienate other people, we talk because someone, somewhere down the line, fathers of psychotherapy, taught us that talking helps. Talking heals. If you can't solve a problem, talk about it. Eventually, under some proverbial rock, we will talk ourselves into some solution.
Elijah is quite the talker, or he was. He would send me random txt-messages that said nothing except a detail of his day. He would leave me five to 10 (sometimes more) txt-messages on my phone for me when I woke up. Most of these messages, I didn't understand, but I like the idea that when someone can't sleep, he/she immediately thinks of me and wants to talk to me. Elijah isn't much of a sleeper. He is often await until past three am. He knows that after about nine pm, I'm drowsy from my meds, and, as he once told me, slurring my words.
He has a mean streak that reminds me of my mother. What he has over my mother is the fact that usually by the night, he has insight into his own behavior, and more or less apologizes.
Some things he just doesn't quite understand, a quality I blame on his youth (he's 23). When he sped away from the ranch gate that day, driving drunk, the women working the gate were so startled that they called the cops. I tried to explain to him that he scared me too, that I could see him in an accident, and he dismissed my concerns callously. Of course, Morpheus never learned the lesson of not to drive drunk, he's still doing it in his forties.
Biologically, younger people take more risks because their brains aren't fully formed yet.
I tried as best I could to get Elijah to pull over and let me drive (I asked if I could drive as we were leaving the restaurant), and he ignored my concerns. If Elijah would have crashed in those hills between the ranch gate and town, I would have forever blamed myself.
Being "ghosted," it's hard for me to comprehend why. He doesn't like opioids, so perhaps in turn he decided that he doesn't like me.
I've considered the option that he's just depressed over something (or perhaps over nothing) and doesn't want to talk. I've ignored my friends for months at a time when depressed, and I suppose it's possible for the same to happen to someone else. Maybe a taste of my own medicine.
"I hate being ignored," my friend Rosa told me once. It's a truism for all women. We hate it. We like talking, we like to think that talking helps, we talk to bond, we talk to alienate other people, we talk because someone, somewhere down the line, fathers of psychotherapy, taught us that talking helps. Talking heals. If you can't solve a problem, talk about it. Eventually, under some proverbial rock, we will talk ourselves into some solution.
Elijah is quite the talker, or he was. He would send me random txt-messages that said nothing except a detail of his day. He would leave me five to 10 (sometimes more) txt-messages on my phone for me when I woke up. Most of these messages, I didn't understand, but I like the idea that when someone can't sleep, he/she immediately thinks of me and wants to talk to me. Elijah isn't much of a sleeper. He is often await until past three am. He knows that after about nine pm, I'm drowsy from my meds, and, as he once told me, slurring my words.
He has a mean streak that reminds me of my mother. What he has over my mother is the fact that usually by the night, he has insight into his own behavior, and more or less apologizes.
Some things he just doesn't quite understand, a quality I blame on his youth (he's 23). When he sped away from the ranch gate that day, driving drunk, the women working the gate were so startled that they called the cops. I tried to explain to him that he scared me too, that I could see him in an accident, and he dismissed my concerns callously. Of course, Morpheus never learned the lesson of not to drive drunk, he's still doing it in his forties.
Biologically, younger people take more risks because their brains aren't fully formed yet.
I tried as best I could to get Elijah to pull over and let me drive (I asked if I could drive as we were leaving the restaurant), and he ignored my concerns. If Elijah would have crashed in those hills between the ranch gate and town, I would have forever blamed myself.
Being "ghosted," it's hard for me to comprehend why. He doesn't like opioids, so perhaps in turn he decided that he doesn't like me.
I've considered the option that he's just depressed over something (or perhaps over nothing) and doesn't want to talk. I've ignored my friends for months at a time when depressed, and I suppose it's possible for the same to happen to someone else. Maybe a taste of my own medicine.
Poetry and Wisdom
"Then I knew that not by wisdom do poets write poetry, but by a sort of genius and inspiration, they are like diviners or soothsayers who also say many fine things, but do not understand the meaning of them. The poets appeared to me to be much in the same cases; and I further observed that upon the strength of their poetry they believed themselves to be the wisest of men in other things in which they were not wise."
--Plato
--Plato
What We Deserve (Absolutely Nothing)
"Well, I wish we could have worked through it...I won't contact you again." (Me, yesterday)
"Good, I deserve it." (Elijah)
"What do you deserve?" (Me)
"Absolutely nothing." (Elijah)
"Good, I deserve it." (Elijah)
"What do you deserve?" (Me)
"Absolutely nothing." (Elijah)
Wednesday, May 29, 2019
The Dangers of People and the Dangers of Opioids (About Elijah) [UPDATED]
I don't know what makes people disappear from our lives. In Morpheus' case, he had a whole family he was trying to hide from me.
It's strange, but I usually find constantly answering my TXT-messages as a pain in the ass, especially if you're playing the game with someone on Tinder or Bumble. With Elijah, I never care. I was interested in the conversation, and I didn't want it to stop.
But it did. It did stop.
The last argument we got into before he left was when he accused me of being an opioid addict.
"I don't deserve to be criticized on something you just don't understand." (Me)
"You're right. You deserve a handful of hydrocodone and a little more fucking arrogance." (Elijah)
"If you want to be an asshole, be an asshole, but I don't deserve being treated this way." (Me)
"I told you my motive here three times. Whatever. Squander the beauty of life stuck on the couch." (Elijah)
The irony of all of this is the fact that Stanford Pain Management is highly motivated to titrate me down to the lowest dose of Tylenol #4 possible, perhaps ending the therapy when I get only a few pill every month for times when the pain is especially bad. Another possibility that has been brought up is putting me on the Butrans patch.
"Ay, if you can't handle honesty you won't be my friend for long." (Elijah)
"Your 'honesty' can be wrong, you know, You're not a doctor, I'm not your patient....If you insist on judging me for using pain meds when I'm in pain, well, then, I don't want to be your friend either." (me)
___
"I know drug using people." (Elijah)
"I don't need you passing judgment on me." (me)
"I'm not. And you keep lying to yourself." (Elijah)
___
It's strange, but I usually find constantly answering my TXT-messages as a pain in the ass, especially if you're playing the game with someone on Tinder or Bumble. With Elijah, I never care. I was interested in the conversation, and I didn't want it to stop.
But it did. It did stop.
The last argument we got into before he left was when he accused me of being an opioid addict.
"I don't deserve to be criticized on something you just don't understand." (Me)
"You're right. You deserve a handful of hydrocodone and a little more fucking arrogance." (Elijah)
"If you want to be an asshole, be an asshole, but I don't deserve being treated this way." (Me)
"I told you my motive here three times. Whatever. Squander the beauty of life stuck on the couch." (Elijah)
The irony of all of this is the fact that Stanford Pain Management is highly motivated to titrate me down to the lowest dose of Tylenol #4 possible, perhaps ending the therapy when I get only a few pill every month for times when the pain is especially bad. Another possibility that has been brought up is putting me on the Butrans patch.
"Ay, if you can't handle honesty you won't be my friend for long." (Elijah)
"Your 'honesty' can be wrong, you know, You're not a doctor, I'm not your patient....If you insist on judging me for using pain meds when I'm in pain, well, then, I don't want to be your friend either." (me)
___
"I know drug using people." (Elijah)
"I don't need you passing judgment on me." (me)
"I'm not. And you keep lying to yourself." (Elijah)
___
Elijah Part VIV
Earlier on, he told me he loved me, but not to get too excited because he loved a lot of people.
At the end of one phone call conversation, he say, "I love you."
I say the most natural rhythm back, "I love you too."
At the end of one phone call conversation, he say, "I love you."
I say the most natural rhythm back, "I love you too."
Tuesday, May 28, 2019
Common Themes
These past few weeks I've been in contact with Elijah has been very anxiety inducing. It reminded me why I never get into romantic relationships, the constant worry about "I'm a coming on too fast" or "Am I not coming at all?" What happens when we have sex? Will we ever seen each other again?
Elijah Part VIII
Elijah is too smart, his brain must work in extraordinary ways because he's constantly trying to escape it--him. When I was manic and drinking, I felt similarly. I wanted to hide, but alcohol made soothed the voices and the racing thoughts, and with just the right amount of vodka, and I could make it home (by walking) before throwing up.
He denies using drugs in that matter, but I want to tell him that he's just fine without all of that stuff.
I'm supposed to be a good influence on young Elijah, but I miss alcohol.
Once, I drove over to see him, and he took me to a rocky trail to the ocean. From there, we found a nice sandy place, secluded by the rocks. He takes his pants off, and I suck on him to the point that he almost comes. Then I stop. He tastes good. Mild and salty.
He's never seen me naked.
He denies using drugs in that matter, but I want to tell him that he's just fine without all of that stuff.
I'm supposed to be a good influence on young Elijah, but I miss alcohol.
Once, I drove over to see him, and he took me to a rocky trail to the ocean. From there, we found a nice sandy place, secluded by the rocks. He takes his pants off, and I suck on him to the point that he almost comes. Then I stop. He tastes good. Mild and salty.
He's never seen me naked.
Elijah Part VII
Because of his background in psychopharmacology, one of his main interests is drugs, for most of these conversations, I recognize the drug and know a little about them. He sent me a picture of his books.
Far and away, Elijah is one of the smartest people I know, and probably the smartest person I've ever met who's in his early twenties.
I believe our disease tells us things about ourselves that simply is not true. A brain like Elijah deserves to be a Stanford or UPenn (Wharton School of Business). Instead, he's stuck in a local community college. Maybe no one told him he could or maybe someone told him no.
Far and away, Elijah is one of the smartest people I know, and probably the smartest person I've ever met who's in his early twenties.
I believe our disease tells us things about ourselves that simply is not true. A brain like Elijah deserves to be a Stanford or UPenn (Wharton School of Business). Instead, he's stuck in a local community college. Maybe no one told him he could or maybe someone told him no.
Elijah Part VI
My mother, after my initial meeting with Elijah and his father, told me to tell young Elijah the benefits of stopping drinking and doing drugs and coming over to the other side, which is infinitely more boring like taking your medications at the same time, every night and/or every morning.Sleeping.
I was sitting in Elijah's Cadillac Escalade, and Elijah offered me nitrious, the kind you breathe in and for a few seconds, you're high, but then the high goes away,
We were supposed to park somewhere downtown to sit at a California-Mex restaurant that everyone swears is the best place to eat in town.
It was on a Saturday, my parents were getting ready to leave for Las Vegas, and I intended on having Elijah come over after they've left.
Elijah, on the other hand, was drinking at a bar downtown while waiting for me.
By the time, we found each other in the hectic early afternoon due to some car show or what not, he was already drunk.
We got our tables at the Cali-Mex restaurant and he was holding his head in his hand. He didn't order anything, so I sat alone eating my burrito, and then boxing it up of later dinners.
I asked him as we left the restaurant, if he was okay to drive. He assured me he was.
I waited for him outside the community gate, even though I had him cleared as a guest.
Something happened, and the arm of the gate came down on top of his SUV, he was so angry at the staff that zoomed out of there, recklessly.
I sent TXT- messages asking him to stop driving and that I would take him home. His response, "Fuck you. I'm going home."
I was sitting in Elijah's Cadillac Escalade, and Elijah offered me nitrious, the kind you breathe in and for a few seconds, you're high, but then the high goes away,
We were supposed to park somewhere downtown to sit at a California-Mex restaurant that everyone swears is the best place to eat in town.
It was on a Saturday, my parents were getting ready to leave for Las Vegas, and I intended on having Elijah come over after they've left.
Elijah, on the other hand, was drinking at a bar downtown while waiting for me.
By the time, we found each other in the hectic early afternoon due to some car show or what not, he was already drunk.
We got our tables at the Cali-Mex restaurant and he was holding his head in his hand. He didn't order anything, so I sat alone eating my burrito, and then boxing it up of later dinners.
I asked him as we left the restaurant, if he was okay to drive. He assured me he was.
I waited for him outside the community gate, even though I had him cleared as a guest.
Something happened, and the arm of the gate came down on top of his SUV, he was so angry at the staff that zoomed out of there, recklessly.
I sent TXT- messages asking him to stop driving and that I would take him home. His response, "Fuck you. I'm going home."
Monday, May 27, 2019
Elijah Part V
You hear this bing on your cell, and it happens again and again. After a little while, the sound becomes normal.
Then it stops.
But then there's silence--gone---you realize how much you deserve and desire for human contact. When you feel the cold ocean, and it slowly swallows you. Your frantic legs, the twisting and turning, and no one to pull you out. So, you're too tired to pattle, so you give up on that.
You can't find the ocean. You can't fight the something so large and powerful and dangerous. You care at his whims.
Then it stops.
But then there's silence--gone---you realize how much you deserve and desire for human contact. When you feel the cold ocean, and it slowly swallows you. Your frantic legs, the twisting and turning, and no one to pull you out. So, you're too tired to pattle, so you give up on that.
You can't find the ocean. You can't fight the something so large and powerful and dangerous. You care at his whims.
Elijah Part IV
While we were all sitting at a restaurant on a counter, Elijah's father was there, and then my parents and me.
The young man sit oppose of me. When Elijah took off his sunglasses, I was paralyzed by them. They're blue.
I wanted to drink with him, and then find some bar where we could dance.
"Let's go dancing!" Elijah offers. I decline. I have to take my meds at a certain time in the night every day.
I'm not twenty-three anymore. I can't just pour my pills down the toilet and hope for the rest. I remember those days when the whole world is prime for the picking. And now?
I haven't had sex in years, it will be three years in September.
The young man sit oppose of me. When Elijah took off his sunglasses, I was paralyzed by them. They're blue.
I wanted to drink with him, and then find some bar where we could dance.
"Let's go dancing!" Elijah offers. I decline. I have to take my meds at a certain time in the night every day.
I'm not twenty-three anymore. I can't just pour my pills down the toilet and hope for the rest. I remember those days when the whole world is prime for the picking. And now?
I haven't had sex in years, it will be three years in September.
Elijah Part III
Elijah studies psychopharmacology, which mean he knows a lot about drugs. As a lay person who's never graduate from college, much less gone on into medical school, I usually understand what he's talking about. The stuff I don't understand, I have to Google. I've never been in a relationship with someone who's younger than me, and I have to look up words.
He's the only man who has left messages on my phone (in the middle of night), reciting poetry.
He's the only man who has left messages on my phone (in the middle of night), reciting poetry.
Elijah Part I [UPDATED]
Elijah.
The man with schizoaffective disorder
When I first met him on the back patio, with all my parents and including Elijah's father.
Elijah's father, James, is raised partially by my father, who adopted me. Dad attempted to become James' father, but there were issues with the adoption.
Technically, that makes Elijah my nephew. As I told my mother, who thought I was joking, in Game of Thrones, that would be perfectly acceptable.
I guess when I found Elijah, I felt like I had found a soul mate, someone who knows all about the deepest parts of me.
He reminded me so much of me when I was his age (he's only 23). The reckless behavior, the drugs, I understand it. Alcohol was my main drug. I love it, even now, but I know that drinking is not good for my mental stability.
He's about my height, but much thinner than I am. He has a handsome face.
When I first met him, I just noticed how anxious he was, but after we left the ranch for a late lunch, after he got some alcohol in his system, he seemed much more gregarious.
At the end of the meal, I asked Elijah if he was on Facebook. He replied yes. A little while later, he said, "Don't forget."
Driving home from the restaurant, I added his name to Facebook. The next day he asked from my cell phone number,and after that, I maintained an ongoing conversations on a daily basis. We just talked and talked.
The man with schizoaffective disorder
When I first met him on the back patio, with all my parents and including Elijah's father.
Elijah's father, James, is raised partially by my father, who adopted me. Dad attempted to become James' father, but there were issues with the adoption.
Technically, that makes Elijah my nephew. As I told my mother, who thought I was joking, in Game of Thrones, that would be perfectly acceptable.
I guess when I found Elijah, I felt like I had found a soul mate, someone who knows all about the deepest parts of me.
He reminded me so much of me when I was his age (he's only 23). The reckless behavior, the drugs, I understand it. Alcohol was my main drug. I love it, even now, but I know that drinking is not good for my mental stability.
He's about my height, but much thinner than I am. He has a handsome face.
When I first met him, I just noticed how anxious he was, but after we left the ranch for a late lunch, after he got some alcohol in his system, he seemed much more gregarious.
At the end of the meal, I asked Elijah if he was on Facebook. He replied yes. A little while later, he said, "Don't forget."
Driving home from the restaurant, I added his name to Facebook. The next day he asked from my cell phone number,and after that, I maintained an ongoing conversations on a daily basis. We just talked and talked.
Elijah Part II
His semen tasted salty and warm.
I never took my clothes off, I didn't see the need to. I've refused sex because I hate looking myself in the mirror, much less let some practical stranger, Elijah, ogle at my fat thighs with cellulose. I have stretch marks on my arms and boobs. I'm a different person now. I don't get drunk and find some guy at the bar to go home with me.
But Elijah, he's in the mix of it, connections to about any drug available. (For the record, he doesn't deal with opioids--apparently has some prejudice against opiods, and has expressed to me multiple ptimes that I'm walking down a dangerous road, he put it, "slippery slope.") The fact that Stanford Pain Management sees me every two week for my Tylenol #4 prescription doesn't placate him nor easy his fears.
I never took my clothes off, I didn't see the need to. I've refused sex because I hate looking myself in the mirror, much less let some practical stranger, Elijah, ogle at my fat thighs with cellulose. I have stretch marks on my arms and boobs. I'm a different person now. I don't get drunk and find some guy at the bar to go home with me.
But Elijah, he's in the mix of it, connections to about any drug available. (For the record, he doesn't deal with opioids--apparently has some prejudice against opiods, and has expressed to me multiple ptimes that I'm walking down a dangerous road, he put it, "slippery slope.") The fact that Stanford Pain Management sees me every two week for my Tylenol #4 prescription doesn't placate him nor easy his fears.
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