Black Tar Heroin Is My Fallback Plan

So, three years on and, not much has changed for me. Those things that have changed seem to be for worse. Is two more years going to be enough to turn it around? Or is it just enough rope to hang myself into a quicker backslide. The worst part, the one that really gets me, is I just plain forget sometimes. Bad Spirit Sea lies ahead.

I’m arguing with myself over what I mean when I tell myself that I can’t “waste” the time I have left.

I’m leaving behind a trail of half-finished books, which is something I’ve never had a problem with before. It all ties in to finishing this stage and moving on to the next.

It’s been awhile. Two weeks home for a funeral, second time in a row. The third is supposed to be a marriage, and then never again till the homecoming. Seems literary in its neatness. They where a time for mourning, carousing and reflection. I, once again without fail, embarrassed myself, but I seem to be getting better at not doing so and not doing it as badly. Honesty is always going to bite me in the ass though.

I’ve come back with a clearer mind now, even if it is a little darker behind and ahead of me. Can I change? It seems something not capable in my person to knock myself out of grooves that are heading in a bad direction, but the only challenges I have trouble meeting are the ones that I must move toward. They almost inevitably defeat me.

I actually teared up a little bit about the election after getting drunk. It’s dumb, but I’m still riding pretty high on what has come to be. The best line of post-election euphoria: “I Know Hope”

I cut my hand again today. This time it’s on the top of my left index finger, running from the nail through the first joint. My hands scar very easily. “My hands are like etchings of concertina wire teeth exhaust burns and broken windows. Shiny pink patches that show up when I tan.” They are easily more scarred than anyone else I knows hands. This new one should be good, it runs deep and relatively long, it gets right into the meat.

God has seen fit to deal me a bitter hand and reintroduce me to Diplomacy which has to date cost me something in the neighborhood of 11 hours of lost sleep. That number is expected to grow linearly. I don’t know why I find this game so attractive, but I do. I suppose it might have something to do with the very deep personal interaction that goes on, or the deep satisfaction of a successful stab, but whatever it is it’s got me hooked in a way only really good books sometimes do.

Biology is already the most boring thing ever and makes me not never want to go to school ever again.

…but at least they have decent squirrels. With chocolate fur and tufty ears and all.