mad drunk genius

I used to have all sorts of problems. Now there's just the one.

Tag: sleep

Supernatural proverbs born of sleep deprivation and infinite wisdom

I saw a ghost rise up in him and shout, “Blest be the fools!” and from then on we prospered.

Decency is dead. Indecency, asleep. Apathy reigns with a loose grip. I am indifferent to it all, I suppose.

Give me my sword and my shield and let me ride out into battle! I’ll kill all the infidels and barbarians and dark-skinned people and be back in time for supper.

There’s a light in front of my eyes, spotty and shaking, like my vision is peeling back and I’m near glimpsing reality. And it’s beautiful and it burns like nothing I’ve ever seen before. Tears fill my eyes and 

It was too much. Too much to know or comprehend. Too much to even care about, I think. 

There’s the light again. There was reality brilliant and perfect right there, an arm’s length away. There’s heaven or enlightenment or a sign I ought to close my eyes and go to sleep.

I saw an infinitely large sphere once. From the outside. I had a fever and I dreamed it into reality. And I was in the fourth dimension of space looking down at the infinitely large sphere and I was afraid, as afraid as I’ve ever been in my life.

I see two girls kissing and another underneath them. And it’s pretty. Curvy and feminine and totally platonic in a sexual kind of way.

The nakedness of woman is the work of God, and I consider myself quite industrious.

The economies of scale dictate a large phallus be presented to the heads of state at a time when everyone can be awake to bear witness to the Invisible Hand stroking it off and sending emissions of productivity everywhere. Praise be Adam Smith. Amen.

Her head hurts. She has a headache and that’s why she’s not interested. I wonder if she’s sick and just allergic to me being horny.

If I were more empathetic, would I be less pathetic?

He’s just stalling now. Can’t get it up so it’s my fault somehow.

As we live our lives, there is a near infinite branch of possibilities stretching out before us that continually shrinks and shrinks and shrinks until finally there’s just our last breath and nothing else to do. 

I’d like to be a firefighter or a scientist or a minister. I’d like to administrate other people. I’d like

Or maybe there’s just one path the whole time and we can’t quite see it until we’re there.

My stomach is empty, head, too. I’m full of nothing but want, so call me an idiot and let me go home to bed. I need sleep and prosperity.

Fading quickly

I’m so tired. Why, I’m practically falling asleep upright. Or am I dying? Am I the dead?

If this is death, I can’t say it’s that bad. Definitely not something to look forward to, but okay.

We are the dead. Conscious corpses shuffling about. Not really alive, just weary.

Or maybe that’s life. Routine and mundane and willful neglect of the everyday divine. Maybe death is when you become unconscious of all this and just lie down to rot. Or get hit by a car, or blown to pieces. Or torn limb from limb by a pack of wild dogs.

I wonder.

Now, let’s say this is life and we are living it. But in a way that’s only slightly better than being dead. What then? Shuffle on and appreciate life for what it is? Or reach higher for things beyond the mundane?

Nah, I’m too tired. I think I’ll go to sleep.

Got no sleep, didn’t wake up

If that seems like it doesn’t make sense, it doesn’t. But what happened was I had a real case of insomnia and despite my best efforts, couldn’t go to sleep all night. I went to sleep in a chair about 8 am, and then slept until about 11:15, missing church.

And the week seems so empty without church, for some reason. It’d be nice if there was something intensely spiritual I was missing, but that’s not what it is.

Part of it is that it’s like a counter, kind of. It’s the one thing I do once a week, and let’s me know “there’s another week of my life passed”. My days and nights are screwed up as it is, but my ability to know time is passing remains intact as long as I go to church on Sundays.

The other part I guess is being with other people and getting to experience that social phenomenon where everyone is happy to be in the same place and seeing you. A lot of it is psychological, and I think that’s why almost all churches or like-minded gatherings can provide something beneficial in that way.

You can’t get the spiritual benefit from just going through the motions, however. That takes conviction and genuine belief. You can get that most anywhere, too, but unless the beliefs are true, I suppose the spiritual benefits are just psychological, too. Some people will hold that they’re all psychological. Maybe they’re right, but better to be psychologically satisfied with an illusion than unhappy with reality.

Today was different

I woke up early, earlier than usual that is, and decided today I was going to do something with my life, you know, go out and make something of myself. Be industrious but stay away from anything resembling the industry.

So in that regard, I guess I did well and all, but for the other, not so much, I don’t think. Maybe I shouldn’t be so tough on myself. I got out of bed, I got outside. I moved about and saw the world, even if it was only my corner of it.

Not so bad, I don’t think. Not so bad.

Forgetfulness and Memory

Here I sleep.

I don’t remember writing that, but there it is, so I must have. A forgotten event, if it was ever remembered at all. An unrecorded trick of my mind. I don’t even know that it happened, but it must have because it’s there.

As a child I was often afraid of many things, most of them religiously centered. The concept of eternity, really trying to wrap my mind around an eternal existence, still makes me wake up in a cold sweat sometimes. As a kid it was even worse. But I also thought about such things as “What if the entire universe began a moment ago and everything I remember and everything that has happened is an illusion?”

The unfortunate thing about such a question, especially for a child, is that it’s impossible to disprove. Really, it is. There’s absolutely no way of knowing such a things is false, and children need certainty. You just have to say, “That’s not true, it just isn’t.”

Lately the same kind of questions have been creeping back into mind, although not exactly religiously based. If you go back to my very first entry, the conversation with the devil, all it really is is dealing with that question of how much of reality is based on what I know about it. I’m a practical man so I know that reality exists as it is, but in practice I also know my ability to remember things determines a lot of what makes my reality for me.

*re-reads past sentence a few times*

Anyway, I keep remembering things that I know never happened. I keep remembering things I’m not sure happened or not. I’ve lied to others and myself so many times, the lies feel more real than the truth.

A good example is the “crowded hall” story. At my old high school the halls were very narrow and the student population quite overcrowded. At intersections, there would traffic jams and everything would just get stuck all of a sudden, until aggressive young men got fed up with it and began shoving themselves through. One day I was stuck in one of these such jams and had a massive hard on, a holdover from my morning wood, maybe. In front of me was a very attractive girl in a skirt, making it even worse. All of a sudden, the people behind us start shoving, trying to get through and I get pushed up against the girl. Apparently she felt something because she turned to try to see what it was and of course she saw me behind her, just grinning. Apparently she understood why I was enjoying myself because she got this disgusted look on her face and turned back around, but there was nothing she could do. For the next fifteen seconds or so, we were pressed up against one another, then the jam broke up and we went our separate ways.

See that, that is a total lie. Complete and utter fabrication. It never happened, it wasn’t even a fantasy I had. But the traffic jams did happen in the halls and it became a funny story to tell. It was what people expected of me, and I gave it to them. But I’ve told it so much, it seems clear to me. It’s as real as any memory I have.

And then there are all of the other events I have absolutely no recollection of. But they’re real. They happened. As far as it matters to me, they didn’t, but they did. Maybe I get to experience deja vu every once in a while because of them, but they’ve utterly disappeared from existence.

So what about that fake story? Other people think it’s true, sometimes so do I. If enough people imagine a memory to be true, shouldn’t that make it so?