Thursday, May 21, 2015

that point when your brain just keeps chanting "you can cut that arm all night long"

sorry.

wow.

my brain is still awful, and it's not getting better.  just fucking terrible shit.

i did read the comment, and i'm so super sorry i made you worry/post that.  i am trying to be better, but i'm always horrible.

that isn't the sentence i thought it would be.  ok, doing this drunk was probably a mistake.  the last one was a super sober "time to eat dinner" thing.  this is me just whatevering.

this was nearly going to turn into another leftist screed.  but then i read the last one and stopped all that.

but seriously, if you're like "gay people are gross, so i'm just going to sit here and jack off to your lesbo-porn" maybe you need to cut that arm all night long.  i'll sit here and wait.  send me emails as it all drains out.  i'll send replies for your heirs to read.  we can do it together if you want.

ok, sorry.   again with the sorry.

i'm going on vacation tomorrow today.  so i'll be gone (not dead gone, just away from porn town gone) for a bit.

thanks everyone for being supportive for someone who just drags down that support all the time.  i hope therapy helps again.  like actual helps.  helps that make me not write 1am drunk posts about socialism and sadness.

i love you so so much.
;)

Tuesday, May 19, 2015

sorry.

i don't even remember what it was all about, i just remember it started with me feeling dumb because of anxiety.  so now it's gone, and if you left the comment, sorry but i didn't read that either, i just marked the email as read.  i just had to have the whole thing go away to stop the "you said something stupid" anxiety.

which is kind of always here, and i know it makes me super needy and whiny.  i hate that about me, too.  it sucks have a voice constantly telling me that i'm not good at anything, and that anything good that i do is just an accident, or that it's shit too, i'm just too dumb to realize it.  it double sucks when that voice is your voice, or at least similar enough to the voice you use when you sing along in the car.  out of key.

and i ramble a lot.  i think it's to try and redirect the conversation to stupid crap that doesn't mean anything so i don't have to feel stressed about it.

one issue is that i'm going on vacation, and that's always super stressful for me.  you know, like how it isn't for normal people who can look forward to doing something that's not the same day-to-day shit.

and now i'm sad because the japanese travel show i watch just showed a dead bird.  this show is from 1995 or something, sammy.  that bird was going to be dead by now anyway.  :(  it was a pretty green bird.  mejiro?

anyway, i took the time to schedule a therapy appointment, since not trying therapy clearly isn't working.  so, hopefully i'll be better in july.  because that's when you get an appointment now, i guess.  thanks, obama.  like a serious thanks, though, for helping people get health care so they can get therapy if they need it.


Sunday, May 17, 2015

The Exhibition: The Office

The Exhibition: The Office
sammy_808@live.com
http://sammytriesagain.blogspot.com/2015/05/the-exhibition-office.html

--

read "office" first

i'm so fast at writing now!

but really only like just right now!


sunday morning dream stories

i'm visiting my friend, who somehow now live at the top of a high rise that's mostly abandoned.  it's filled with animals, as she's just brought in six chickens to go with a bunch of cats and a pile of puppies.  i reach down to pet a pug puppy, and it just bites me on the finger and looks at me like, "sorry, i have to bite you now, because i'm super tough."

--

something about elevators not working in the parking garage.

--

i make it down to the mall at the bottom of the elevator (sure), and stumble upon a bakery/cafe.  it's super small, with not much room inside.  the first three times i try to go in, other people sneak past and fill the store while i'm opening the door.  the final time, i keep holding the door open, as the last group of people are just standing in the doorway talking to people on both sides.  i swing the door all the way back, and think about if it's possible to crush my head between the door and the wall.

but then the cafe clears, and i can go in and order.  the menu is on a bunch of cards scattered on the counter, and they have a tv menu, but it never changes to the menu screens, just like pictures of cakes and things.  the owner is at the counter, and she asks what i want, and then describes a delicious sounding cake.  "it's a pie," she insists, "and in the corners, it's like starburst candies."  that doesn't sound good now, but it totally does in dream world.  "it's $17.16"  wow, ok, that's kind of expensive, but it sounds good. "it's $7.16" ok, that's a better deal, i'll have that.  "no, you have to say it right."  there's this long script of how to order, where it's all, "after thinking things through, and considering all the options, the menu item i imply (i read it as insist, saw it was imply, decided that doesn't make sense, and continued again with insist) i have is that pie you just described."

"oh, that's special order.  we don't have any."  i'm beginning to hate this lady.

"then give me that sandwich, with the swiss."  i point to the tv, just as it flips off the page with the sandwiches.  she pushes a random sandwich thing that flips a bunch of cards to make one with swiss.  "no, no, the..." i start shuffling through the menu pages, trying to find the sandwich page, and when i do, there aren't just the six or whatever from the tv, it's like dozens.  and they all look super yummy, although i'm pretty sure my brain just invented fake-french words to use as ingredients.  the owner goes into the back, and i see they have soup too, and a cup of french onion soup sounds yummy, so i decide to get that, and "the swiss and mushroom sandwich" and a plain grilled cheese with three cheeses, so i can try out two of their breads.  but no one is there to take my order, and i turn around and the place is way bigger than before, and it's full of people who are angry at me that i'm taking so long, because they want to order too.

and that's when simulated social anxiety caused me to wake up from a nightmare about grilled cheese.

it's not your fault, grilled cheese.  i will love you forever. <3


Saturday, May 16, 2015

done.

not edited, and i think i missed a point i wanted, but the hard part is finished.

it should be up tomorrow.

thanks for being patient!

:)

saturday morning dream stories

i'm at work, but i'm grumpy because i haven't eaten lunch, and i brought a thing to microwave, but it claims it takes 9 minutes to heat up.  so instead of doing that, i'm being more grumpy.

--

suddenly "a coworker" (who doesn't exist in real life, so is just here for the dream, i guess) shows up.  she pulls down my pants and underwear, and pushes me down on the bed (dream world!).  i try to figure out what she's doing, and cover up, but she grabs my arms, stuffs them under my tummy, and pulls them out on the opposite side.  "stay like that."

she then sits between my legs, and does quick smacks with her hands on my ass.  i try to squirm away, but she grabs my ankles and pulls me back.  next she bends down and spreads my cheeks apart, and i can feel her scraping with a fingernail.  "look what i found," she says as she dives up next to me on the bed.  she holds out her finger, and there's a tiny bit of poop on it.  "looks like you didn't wipe enough.  what should we do with this?"  i grab a kleenex and wipe her finger as she laughs.  "i think maybe you should come by and i'll inspect you to see if you're clean."

she rolls around, and has my ass on her lap to spank it (there's a weird geometry thing here.  she was lying on my left side, but after setting it up is now on my right side).  afterwards, i'm crying, and slide back off of her, and i give her a kiss on her right thigh, in the fold just where it meets her hip.  she laughs and squeezes me in a big warm hug.

(this is where i woke up with my right leg trapped in the sheets, and my blanket curled up around my head.  but then i went back to sleep:)

--

we're at a vacation "spa"/"camp"/"such a place doesn't exist" thing.  it's underground and dark and dingy.  i'm super embarrassed, and worried, because we're not supposed to be dating since we work together (or something like that).  we're choosing our showers, because it's like a dorm bathroom or something.  the showers are even darker and dingier, and i don't understand how i'm supposed to get clean in them.  she chooses one, and points for me to take the one opposite it.  she steps into hers, and flashes me, making me flush bright red while she just giggles.

(i woke up again because i couldn't get over how everyone else was ignoring how dirty the place was.  i guess it was supposed to be a dungeon kind of place?  wtf, brain?)

--

i pull into a parking lot, and at first i think they're having a car wash thing, but i then notice that one of them has a black square instead of a bottom part of her bikini.  her friend turns, and she has a giant piece of black glass that she's using to hide behind, like a real-life censor bar.

(ditto waking up and wtf brain?)








Friday, May 15, 2015

update-y stuff

i'm going to try super hard to get "o1" finished and out this weekend.  i was going to write more tonight, but then i didn't, so that's how things work. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

but i want it to be done and released because i'm taking vacation time next weekend for labor day, and i'm flying to visit my friend in san francisco.

she was super pushy about getting me to visit, so i think it's going to be talking through her problems a lot.  i continue to think that she probably doesn't have any really major problems, although she does have a lazy husband.  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

i just realized that in my head, i've been calling the double-next chapter "The Exhibition: The NOUN: The DIFFERENT-NOUN THAT-FIRST-NOUN".  maybe "The Exhibition: The NOUN (DIFFERENT-NOUN THAT-FIRST-NOUN)"  "The Exhibition: NOUN 2"

noun is a weird word.  noun.  naaaaooooooowwwwwwwwwwwnnnnn.

now it just sounds like i'm some sort of weird lion.

noun* it just sounds like.

ok, rambled enough for today.  time to drink more and try to wake up tomorrow to fulfill this promise-post. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

i like shruggy emoji.

¯\_(ツ)_/¯


Wednesday, May 13, 2015

animal shows

should have a "don't worry, none of the baby animals die in this episode" warnings.  or like, a blank space where that would go, so you know that baby animals are going to die in this episode.

and you're just a jerk, king macaque.  "i'm the super monkey boss, and everyone has to do the 'you're scared of me' chattering teeth thing."

"even me?" asks tiny baby macaque who is like a quarter king monkey's size.

"everyone, otherwise i don't know that you're sufficiently submissive to me."

"like, you're four fucking times my size.  why are you even concerned about this?  i'm going to come over and be all disrespectful and you'd rip me to pieces.  like, buy some self esteem, jackass."

"i don't hear chattering!"

fuck you macaque.  you're a jerk, and i hope you die.

"warning: this episode contains animal death, but don't worry, he was a fucking jerk and got what he deserved."

"warning: this episode contains animal death, but we're following the baby tigers growing up, so, you know, om nom nom and all that."

that's ok too, but when you were taunting earlier that mommy bear is really shitty at being a mommy bear and maybe the baby bears are going to freeze to death in a tree?  nope.  i don't want to be jerked around like that.





Tuesday, May 12, 2015

why do i have so much disco?

in my mp3 saved shit.  like, this is all the disco.  i'm guessing these people were dead a decade before i was born.  but now we're doing

this big disco riff

about disco shit?  about being disco?

way to swing this shit here.


sorry


a lot sorry


i just relistened to stuff i bought years ago, and it's so...

70s?  is disco really what i mean?  like, weird boopy shit and then a shifty boop-boop-ty-boop aaaahhhhh boop-boop-ty-boop aaaaaaahhhhh boop-boop-ty-boop-aaaaaaahhhhh bing bang bong-a boop boop-ty-boop

ok, new


boop.   boop-a-tee-boop.  boop-a-tee-boop.

boop-a-teee-booops.  i can't no more.  sorry..


all so the boops.




















do people get annoyed at random daily posts?

like, "fucking sammy.  talking about shit to farm sympathy to her shitty behavior.  jerk."

because that's how it feels, so if you feel like that too, just do a comment with some random word.  post anonymously.  no animals.   like "brick" or "tortilla".  not "puppy" or "kinkajou".  thanks.

buy a book, google chrome.  kinkajou is totally a real word.  as is google.

what was my point today?

i completely forgot the point.  here's a few things i probably wanted the point to be:

i wanted to write today, but i didn't,  because i felt too tired.  waking up early sucks.

so i did some tumblr stuff instead.  that's easier and way way more mindless.

i did plan out some of o2 in the shower this morning.  i think i have the main details done, and a lot of the character motivation.  i need to get it down so i don't forget, but the themes are easy.

i hate writing "and then did the same to the MONKEY on the other side."  this technical shit is hard to make not suck.  "annie PIROUETTES sammy's left CARBOXYLIC until it PURPLES like a TENEMENT" those are all apparently real words, so i'm sorry if it doesn't make sense.  if anyone reads o1 and sees some obvious fix to this stuff, let me know.  i just write what makes sense, and then feel bad about how lame it sounds.


if you were here right now, and said the magic words of "i don't hate you, sammy," i'd probably give you an awkward hug

awkward because i don't hug much, and double awkward because getting hugged by naked people is kind of super weird.

sorry.

EDIT STARTS NOW:

politics.

i was going to warn everyone that i'll probably talk about politics tomorrow.  so.  you know, if you might be against my particular politics, maybe go fuck yourself and go away.  and if you are cool with my political shit, you can ignore if i'm too weird?  i'm pretty sure those are the only groups.  fuckers who should diaf, and people who we might disagree on details, but we probably agree on the big picture stuff.

so tomorrow.  probably a brambly politics thing.  you might be able to guess the details or triggers or whatever.  but, hey, you can see me be all dumb tomorrow.

poop.