rested a little. cleaned the floor, washing the laundry, put stuff in bags

I was so tired and in so much pain, but I took a brief nap. It was not enough of a nap, but when I woke up, I was able to do just a few minimal things, slowly, a little at a time. I threw away the garbage that was piled up all over the floor. I haven’t cleaned up for weeks because I’m working too many hours, and when you see piles of garbage everywhere, that’s a sign that I’m always at work and too tired to do anything at home.

I cleaned that up, and I made a bag of stuff that I’m keeping, which is just an assortment of random objects that are not organized or sorted in any way at all, so, for instance, it contains a notepad, a bag with embroidery thread in it, and some bags of snacks, along with dozens of other random things. I now have a few neat looking boxes, bags, and sections or areas that are distinct from each other. The boxes are just two small boxes with some papers in them, and Jacob was sleeping in one of the boxes for a while. I have Jacob’s cat food still out. I have a bag of stuff used for cleaning, so it’s got shampoo, laundry detergent, and Comet cleanser that I used in the bathtub.

The laundry is drying right now. I took the sheets and the borrowed blanket off the bed, but that’s okay because I have my own sleeping bag on there now. I did a lot of this with a traumatized grimace on my face, but then gradually became numb to it and did it slowly without expression. I am not necessarily moving out tonight, but maybe Thursday. I just have it organized so it’s ready to go.

For a while I chanted to myself, in my head, something that might sound extremely alarming or frightening to anyone who didn’t understand me and didn’t understand what this meant, so I will explain it. I was chanting, ‘There is no hope of a better life. There is no hope of a better life,’ over and over again.

What this means: For these two decades I have constantly, always, felt this hope that I was going to soon be doing something different in the future, and the future was this disconnected abstraction where everything would be perfect, even though everything is hell right now in the present. It’s like I would walk through some magic doorway into the future where suddenly, everything changes overnight. I would suddenly be healthy, wealthy, employed at a good job, in love with someone, having children, eating a healthy diet, buying a house and land, and having infinite free time for all of my hobbies and interests and projects.

I’m trying to remember the word for this – it’s like ‘disconnected’ or something, but that’s not quite it. Oh no – I flopped the pillow around when I was dusting the crumbs of dirt off it. It’s a borrowed pillow which is most definitely NOT on the bed and NOT being used, because it has an unknown substance in it which is so hyperallergenic that it causes me to sneeze nonstop over and over again dozens of times until I almost vomit. I removed it from the bed and threw it on the floor. It was sitting in the closet for an extremely long time before I borrowed it and I have no idea what kind of dust or mold is in it, but whatever it is, it is an absolute evil. That is why I am now resting my head on a pile of laundry when I sleep instead of a pillow. I just sneezed right now and maybe I will have to open the window.

Anyway, so my future was disjunct, or something, from the present. It was a false hope all along which caused me to tolerate the
intolerable, to keep going when it would have been best to quit and try something different.

But I’ve been saying, I can’t fight this war anymore. It’s a war. It’s a war against time, a war against the seasons, a war against the winter and the eternal cold and eternal darkness which returns over and over again, always too soon, always before I have finished what I want to do. I can’t fight this battle. I am fighting electronic mind control. I am fighting a zap which occurs every few seconds whenever I try to focus my mind and think deeply about something. Because of this, I cannot solve the simplest, most obvious life problems that have perfectly simple solutions. I am giving up – there is no hope of a better life.

Somehow, saying it made me focus in another direction, thinking to myself that there was an exception to that statement – there is hope of a better life, but in another location, not here. Whenever I would say, ‘there is no hope of a better life,’ I could feel myself fighting against that statement because it was logically untrue – I could feel that I was lying. I could feel that there is a better life elsewhere; however, it cannot be said, because to say it causes some kind of tension or anxiety – it is an unnatural focus that forces my brain to do something in the wrong direction. I have to focus on the negative – there is no hope here, and not emphasize that there is something positive somewhere. I haven’t tried it yet, so I don’t know yet whether or not there is something positive elsewhere.

But I do know, from twenty years of trying, that there is no hope here in this town. This town will not suddenly change into an easygoing, peaceful hippie town where people play music and dance in the streets and eat organic food. There are a tiny number of cool people here, but the overwhelming majority are total assholes and douchebags, and they are drawn to this town because this college is designed to serve the needs and desires of assholes and douchebags, and the college spirit is the spirit of assholes and douchebags. The essence of this town is essence of douchebag. It will never change. The tiny minority of non-assholes are nearly impossible to sort out from all the assholes.

The climate isn’t going to change, either. The summer will always be too short. When the winter falls, it will be dark and cold for the major portion of the year, during which time I will be hopeless, malfunctioning, depressed, in pain, and unable to do anything productive. That won’t change. There is no hope of climate change here.

So maybe I won’t leave tonight, but at least I got ready to leave. It’s more organized and closer to being ready to go. I should probably open a window though to let in some fresh air after I flopped the evil pillow around on the floor. I forgot how bad it was.

The thing I hate most is stuffing Jacob into his kitty carrier. I hate it and he hates it. He will have to ride in a car to get there to the tent. It’s not far though. When I took him in the car long distance to WV I let him roam free in the car. But if I take a taxi he will be in the carrier. I only have to go across town for a ride that lasts a couple of minutes, and then I have to carry him to the tent in the darkness of the night. He is very heavy – this is hard to do.

It will happen. I am going south, where I know it is warm. That is the only thing I know. I know it really is warm in the south. That is a fact, not a guess, not a theory, not a hypothesis, not merely a false hope. It is a guarantee. It’s hot in the south. I won’t be cold for most of the year, and when it gets cold, it’s only cooler, not intolerable.

The thing is, I love the cold – if only I didn’t have to be productive and fight an enormous uphill battle against a dozen behemoths and evil forces holding me back. If I didn’t have to live a productive, profitable life, then it would be fine to live someplace where the winters were cold. But I cannot function, I cannot do anything in all that time. If I could live a natural life and hibernate in the winter, with my little family and my little community of primitive peasants, or wild roaming hunter gatherer nomads, then the winter would be fine.

One Response to “rested a little. cleaned the floor, washing the laundry, put stuff in bags”

  1. Anonymous Says:

    ” ‘There is no hope of a better life. There is no hope of a better life,’ over and over again.”

    Hope springs eternal in the human breast; Man never Is, but always To be blest: The soul, uneasy and confin’d from home, Rests and expatiates in a life to come. -Alexander Pope, An Essay on Man, Epistle I, 1733.

    I just watched a chipmunk skip across my front yard like a rock on a pond, the ripples are all in my mind because the grass is wet.

    “What this means: For these two decades…”

    35 years ago I entered this valley like an electron shot into a new orbital. I remember the mind games they played with the freshman, they sat us down in a circle and had us whisper in our neighbors ear.
    They made us feel inferior because the story became distorted when a score of adolescents misinterpreted what a stranger whispered in their ear.

    I lived other places and was forced to come back to PEDO_STATE!

    ALBQ was a nest of gay vipers around a nuclear arsenal.
    HBG is a warm and fuzzy liars den of thieves.

    Now I have KATTENS going thru hormonal changes.

    They want that Chipmunk and they want it now!

    Never mind the feral Tom in the woods!


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