Sitting in front of the computer for the last 20 minutes,
Rehearsing and then rejecting posts.
I do not want to be a broken record
Or a collection of memes and one-liners.
Is there a purpose to my life, a meaning for my suffering?
Will anyone remember me, when I am gone?
Like a well-oiled scratch,
I pick at this virtual scab,
Hoping it distracts me from the persistent sores
Up and down my body...
I do not want to brag, I do not want to puff myself up.
I would hope that what I share is worth some joy
To someone - to lift them from their despair.
Yet, I post about sadness and morbidity,
And the dark clouds upon my brain,
Fostered by "recovery meetings", again and again?
I hear the praise from my supervisor
After returning to tutoring,
And I hear the deafening silence...
Makes me think I'm pressed flat
Into a shallow math man,
Like how they cast me as the Count,
At a Christmas party, way long ago.
Could it help? Would it help?
If I was more vocal
About what I like and dislike
All about me, in this mixed-up world?
Should I rattle my saber and shake my fist
And take some sides, just to try to fit in?
another pause, wondering where I'm going...
another sigh, wondering where I've been...
Do I even pick up all my broken pieces,
When I suspect I'll just fall of the wall, again?

"Jet Trash"

I am a friend of convenience,
An associate easily tossed to the side,
Like that "used piece of jet trash"
Because you fear no repercussions,
For I am also nothing but smoke, in your eyes.
...or am I Carlos?
(some bits lifted out of "Frank's Wild Years", song by Tom Waits)

Pondering stuff, maybe summed up as "reality versus expectations"...?

watching another thread unravel,
as people treat these screens as walls -
throwing gelatinous napalm to see what sticks?

I am not pure and I am detached...
So easy to start a war
With words wanton and unwise.

Having worked in an inbound call center,
I can attest that phones are not much better...

Off on a divergent tangent,
Making assumptions on physique or speech
That lead some minds to debasing slurs -
Another simple screen, yes -
That's got deadly hidden roots
In simplifying the complex.

After a few setbacks and criticisms, I have felt a bit threatened.
I called the insurance company on Friday to set up a payment plan to catch up my insurance; and was told that the partial payment would reactivate it - this did not happen and I had to call back multiple times over the next 4 days before I was told of the official policy: “Suspended until paid in full” I ran out of meds, which quickly led to a fairly severe mixed episode. (I was able to get the meds refilled, and I now feel some return to normalcy...)
I took my trench coat in for some repairs; and it was returned with missing buttons and missing zipper teeth for the inner liner, making the liner unattachable. I tried to argue for some customer service or recompensation for those damages, but to no avail.
I once again was reminded that my budget can easily fall apart, if I do not keep a tight rein on it; and yet I fret over the lack of fridge and freezer space that I have available to me, at the new housing... which, in turn, stresses me out immensely about not being able to pay rent on time (and possibly being asked to move out)
I have not tried yo make it out to any Christmas festivities. Part of me wants to, while part of feels immense shame at not being able to give more of myself or my time.
“Yadda yadda yadda” ... you might be saying, “same old squeals, change the record”... I feel kind of traumatized by my current circumstances. I still do not think that I have a good social support network built up around me (partly because I do not put a lot of effort into interjecting myself into your lives - a weird “respect for privacy”, as it were?)
(A couple of rejections, and I think, “it does not make sense to stay in that scenario”...)

I am not making great progress towards most of the traditional American measures of success... (loving partner, family, household and vehicles my own, rewarding and satisfying career, ample retirement funds, excellent health)
Most days, I’m like, “whatever...”; but there are some days where the poverty, insecurity, and isolation this can cause tear apart my mind.
I think some would say, “focus on the positive! Be more happy! Attract the things you want! Make time and energy for what really matters!”
It’s really tough to present a happy face, though, when envy starts to sink in, when I start to want some mythical dream life that’s been paraded in front of me, all of my life, through our media. ...Or to project an appreciation of what I have been given when the engineer in me thinks he can sees ways to improve upon it.
Not sure how much of that makes sense, because I’m not trying to write a novel on it.

I'm exhausted from "trying to keep it together".
I'm panicking from not being able to meet my expenses this month... So much so, that I'm posting about jumping off bridges (scroll back in my wall, and you'll find the post), and "begging for help in passive-aggressive approaches". So much so, that the vital bills are lapsing, putting me even worse off with other expenses (the medical insurance saga)
So, I try to keep this off facebook, because i have weird projections on my part of how people will say "Oh no, not again!" ...or seeing the same responses from the same people; and thinking, "why do you keep saying that!?" ....worse of all, seeing no responses; and just getting more and more frustrated and angry.
It's like I'm screaming inside, "God, help me, please!!" and yet trying to project a happy face to be polite... or being honest about my situation and getting blank stares and confused reactions.
i'm probably blabbering like a rabid dog to y'all, now.... and I feel that most everyone has made no attempts to reach out, to suggest they could be helpful.
Honestly, just driving me battier and battier...
And it paints everyone claiming to be available and willing to help as hypocrites, if you ask me. (but then i have to keep remembering that i'm not at front doorstep, begging for pennies - because that's what it feels like to get through to anyone, anymore...
So, that is my rant, I guess. I feel helpless, I ask for help, and I get nothing. (and my mind turns ever darker...)

To add insult to injury...
Jack Brown Cleaners jacked up my trench coat’s winter liner, in the process of patching it. I am now missing both sleeve inner liner buttons, and the zipper popped out two teeth.
I know the coat is old (Christmas ‘92 gift from my mom)...
I tried to point all this out to the staff, but they were saying that i’d have to take it up with the manager, when she got back from lunch.
“Thanks for such lovely customer service.”
(Is it worth a yelp? I do not know... at least, it’s worth a phone call later...)

Pushing back against this impulse
To dive off an over-pass
Into a highway’s late-night traffic -
That way, the cars would be going fast,
And maybe, just maybe,
I’d leave my mark upon Texas...
“If you see something, Say something”
Just broadcast over the bus intercom...
(Perhaps you should call 9-1-1)
I push back against that thought,
Predicting too much harm caused to all...
Yet, so many doors are closing, locking -
And a frenzy is upon me, Dark and heavy...
Another thought -
Just now, while roboting my way
Through another painful appointment:
“Why not return to ASH?
At least, it’s 3 hots and a cot;
While my world crumbles away
And the ashes of my life
Become dust on the wind...”
A wind is blowing,
But it is not born by angel’s wings -
No angel is here to save me,
No miracles await me..

So, I see all those posts
About removing toxic people,
Beyond “your white picket fences”...
...and I wonder to myself,
“How’s my chemistry?
Am I a noble gas,
Or a caustic halide?”
Then, I see this other dialogue,
Claiming I need to be open
About all my life’s troubles,
‘Lest I slip into suicide’s silence...
...and now,
My faltering, fractured mind,
Can’t make sense of January,
And all the duplicity
Amuck in society.
I wonder if I speak
From an abandoned soapbox,
“Because we want to be entertained,
And not taken to task
To help those in need!”
Like the Beatles, but parody:
“I am Scrooge, You are Scrooge,
We are not together...”
Taking hostages,
Hoping for a quick fix -
Branded a lunatic
And scorned and avoided,
Like all the mentally sick.
Waxing in weird ways
And laying it on thick...
Drowning in a sea of anxiety,
Thinking, “what’s the use, anyway?”
And getting ever more morbid,
Hoping Death might me whisk away
From all this pain and turmoil,
So that I no longer need to
Be aware of the deafening silence.
Oh, I am going out to meet and greet?
“Let me put on my happy face...”

courtesy of my dad's joke files:
-----
When four of Santa's elves got sick, the trainee elves did not produce toys as fast as the regular ones, and Santa began to feel the Christmas pressure.
Then, Mrs. Claus told Santa her Mother was coming to visit, which stressed Santa even more.
He went to harness the reindeer, he found that three of them were about to give birth and two others had jumped the fence and were out, Heaven knows where.
When he began to load the sleigh, one of the floorboards cracked, the toy bag fell to the ground and all the toys were scattered.
Frustrated, Santa went in the house for a glass of cider and a shot of rum.
In his frustration, he accidentally dropped the cider jug, and it broke into hundreds of little glass pieces all over the kitchen floor.
He went to get the broom and found the mice had eaten all the straw off the end of the broom.
Just then the doorbell rang, and an irritated Santa marched to the door, yanked it open, and there stood a little angel with a great big Christmas tree.
The angel said very cheerfully, 'Merry Christmas, Santa. Isn't this a lovely day? I have a beautiful tree for you. Where would you like me to stick it?'
And so began the tradition of the little angel on top of the Christmas tree.
Not a lot of people know this.

I see both a mania and a depression bubbling to the surface of my consciousness...
and I see the (possibly environmental) triggers, aggravated as hell, with no "easy solutions"...
...and rational Bean is screaming in terrified agony at how helpless he feels, at how much damage is building upon the horizon, at how "life is heading straight down the toilet, AGAIN..."
...and so, the suicidal thoughts start to crowd in, and so the desire to escape or run away pulls at me, and so the urge to drown out my sorrows in addictive behaviors around food, sex, gambling, and drugs come rushing in -- Just throwing distractions at my life, while my mind crumbles and caves in, which is really just expressing the mania..?
...the frantic racing to find some easy solution, the grasping at straws in the hopes that one will give me breathing room, again. Yet, as the neurons burn themselves to ashes - *SNaP* - and now the brain wants to turn away from the world, to rest and recover and try to regain strength. Unfortunately, it's still burning away, obsessing over the problems, even as I cower under the bed covers.
Looking for excuses, for explanations, for escapes - some sort of hope that it could all be fixed away. Looking for some sort of support, as my world crumbles away. But, there is no easy solution presenting, "No fucking manifestation of my desires"...
Hoping the switch doesn't flip, where, instead, I look for oblivion.

my brain hurts
my ankles hurt
i think they are over-extended

Stealing this from David Jackson:
HOW TO BE UNHAPPY - BY EMMET FOX
Sit down quietly where you are not likely to be disturbed. Relax the body - and begin to think about yourself. Every time your thought wander to something higher, bring it back gently but relentlessly.
Think about the past. Think over all the mistakes you have made, going right back to childhood. Think over all the opportunities you have missed and the time you have wasted. Especially think of all the occasions upon which you have been badly treated.
Think about your body and wonder if your age or your job or the climate isn't beginning to tell. See if you cannot discover a pain or an ache somewhere.
Think about finances and if they are going well now, insist that this is probably too good to last.
In any case, think about yourself, that is the main point, and if you will keep this up faithfully for fifteen or twenty minutes, there can be no doubt about the result.
"Seest thou a man wise in his own conceit? There is more hope of a fool than of him." (Proverbs 26:12)

I find my mind in a really dark place, this morning.
"It's like I have the Cacas Touch - everything I touch turns to shit. Honestly, I can't seem to "get it together", to actually succeed at life, for a change..."
...perhaps fueled by being isolated from my family, in the current times of need and times of joy. Seeing the family game night posted, this week, (with me absent) is like a rusty nail, pounded into my heart...
In some twisted concept of being helpful, my mind thinks, "Perhaps I could go somewhere, where they could end my life, painlessly and peacefully; and then harvest my organs to help those who could better use them." I'm reminded of the blank spot, when under anasthesia, during last year's colonoscopy...
"You could just send the cremated ashes and any proceeds generated to help work down my debt, and hopefully help out my family."
(There was a more sinister variety of this particular morbidity, earlier this year, when I wondered how easy it would be to track down a snuff film, in production, on "the dark web". Not that I'm aware of any connections I might have to that, but... similar sentiments of "just process my body, like a cow, and be done with it.)
-------------
I can not see the hope and joy, in my life, right now. It's not that it's not there - it's just that I'm in this ever-constricting tunnel vision that's focusing in on the pain and isolation and immobility and fucking oubliette that I'm walling myself into.
It's an intense anxiety that has me afraid to get out of bed - it took me half an hour of paralyzed crying there to muster the courage to write this... afraid to get out and do positive things, because I'm not certain that I won't instead do something incredibly stupid. "oh, sure. 512-472-HELP" ...but I'm so tired of "being processed by our mental health care system"...
I can not see the help being offered, if it's even there. ...and I try to step past the very real boundaries and limits that keep that help healthy, if those are there.
now, i'm just rambling and making excuses, and trying to "dull the blade"... I keep piling more poo upon the pile.
because i want to talk myself out of the pity pot I'm in? because I want to lash out, instead of trying to run away?
i don't know. i really don't know.
when i turn to face reality, I hate the grotesque mask of fantasy that peers back at me...

an ounce of prevention, right...?
...sure, eating healthy and exercising and reducing stress now help lay the foundations for reducing serious health complications down the road....
...but why does a "Healthy lifestyle" have to cost more than an unhealthy one?
...and why does healthcare have to cost so much to begin with?

Gods! I'm in a funk, this morning... "Ozymandius Syndrome", perhaps?
The ennui is thick, the pointlessness is all around. ...and the blame is getting thrown around like an abandoned doll caught up in a cat 5 hurricane....

It's like I'm not one of the main actors in anyone's movie, but my own...
just a character sketch brought in for comic reflief, or perhaps tragic effect...
Do I have any visible development, which others can easily see? ...or am I some strange "man of mystery"...?

I wonder if I got all twisted up
Because no one's taking the time
To help straighten me back out?
I miss the honors floor,
And swapping massages and hugs -
Some grungy P.A. spoke, saying "No more PDA's..."

What madness takes me,
In the middle of the night,
That casts strange profiles
Upon my friends, out of sight?
Why must I believe I am all alone
When - sooth! - I am simply, at home, cloistered?
Alas, the strange signs of deadened silence
Only make my flimsy shadows bolstered...

some collection of words that try to convey how disrupted the sleep is, how the joints are aching from lack of relaxation and the stress is ever building higher...
or another group claiming such bleak isolation, self-imposed perhaps...
or that choking feeling at the top of my throat - like food wants to come up, or mucus can't go down further - or maybe it's just words that got stuck
all these little complaints, all these little wishes - to be comforted, to be comfortable, to break out of this watery cell, to climb away from this dirty earthy mud-slinging.
ah, to be grateful! to realize there are loving friends and family out there (but they are not here, now)... to realize that I ate twice today... to realize that I can attempt sleep in shelter from the rain...
to be grateful that there is still some luxury, or else I would not be typing this rambling rant, listening to the Rolling Stones, and
yet,
i court death and regret

I hesitate to write,
On this cold, rainy day,
As I do not trust what...
Secrets I give away...
Perhaps, I do not trust all of you -
Unable to predict, how you use...
Where could I bury these seeds?
Where, while winter does not cease?
That they may be kept warm and safe
To blossom into grand debates...
A hint, as he likes speaking -
Alas, his heart is leaking...
Strange and bizarre, I want -
Hopes of astral travels,
But with such a long jaunt -
Will our minds unravel?
Now, I would be run out of town,
Derided as an insane clown
Lost in visions, from minds unbound...
And left to grieve, alone and down.
what strange magics are at work?
what laws do not bend?
What perplexes, now and then?

is it a prison sentence,
imposed by my laziness?
my body rebels,
and tries to slip away into sleep
at weird moments of the day...
my joints ache and shoot out
spasms of pain
the drudgery of trudging,
the horrible and inconsequential
feeling that nothing matters
...that i'm locked up in this,
this karmic cycle
where i can't see how to break out.

A door has come open;
Through which, distant spirits commune...
As reality’s fabric tears asunder
And “delusions” claw their way
Through the subconscious veil...
I am left babbling,
Grappling with outlandish claims
And bathed in the colour of space.

A compulsion to write
..or... speak, even converse..
all these strands wanting to connect -
the little neurons afraid to go it alone?
pfft.
my heart is aching
because my brother's heart failed him,
and the futility is intense,
trying to connect to Kansas
from deep in the heart of Texas
while sinking...
i thought i heard voices,
as i tried to sleep on Monday -
calling me to come to the other side,
to forsake this vile and bitter life.
Thinking of the Tibetan "Book of the Dead",
My mind casts up a story
How Death's first visitors
Will keep us here,
Locked in cycles of reincarnated suffering...
I could be silent, or
i could whisper within my family -
yet my mind is in turmoil,
screaming that "such solace is not enough...!"
crying in my bed,
and praying novenas each day -
all in the hope that my good brother,
for a few more years, is here to stay...
and, hopefully, both of us will find good comforts, soon -
for it's hard to torment each other,
or roast each other's follies over turkey dinners
if there is no turkey to be had,
or bissful dreams to enjoy
Perhaps its an ominous warning
That the stresses we create
Build up hearts and blood irate -
And, when least we expect it,
Something gives, something bursts
Oh, to chase those voices in my head,
To give up this coil,
and sleep deep in fertile soil.

Minds over-saturated with sickly sweet dime-store fantasies,
Fermenting into full flight from our bland realities...