haha! i'm garbage!

first up: wow.  good job, me, not pulling out edit notes when you told me you were going to do that!  great, that one person has been like, "uh, sammy, probably a mistake?"

so, hey:

all you

want to edit?  mostly it's "that's not a word, sammy" and "who is this 'captain jerkbutt' character?" and "jfc, is this supposed to have text, or am i just supposed to accept [this comment in square brackets] junk."  this is a serious request for people who can read and note obvious errors quickly.

i can do this too, but i take drugs now, and although they make it so i can re-read things, they also make it super frustrating to wait for a calm me to arrive and reread.

so, hey, anyone interested?

second: whoops, i guess i need to add porn to chapter 3, because my outline just fucked up and put in a bunch of socialist organizing.

this isn't an editable thing, just a warning that it's going to be way left-er than you might expect.

conform or fuck off.  i seriously don't give a fuck which you do.

third: this might end up being less sexy.  when i follow the intentions and drives out, they don't end up quite as sexy as i would like.

i mean, there's lots of predictive "whoa!  this is going to get super HHHOOOTTT!!!"

but, maybe not?

is that a problem?  if i bill myself as a pornographer, but instead deliver manifestos, does that detract from my pornography?

or do i just allow that people who can't accept egalitarian porn are really just assholes?

super early on this, but

i may be moving.  to someplace else.  maybe.  with a different job.  possibly.

so that might make me even worse about posting.  or writing.  or all of this, really.  since.  "new job."

potentially.

just wanted to say something about it, because i'm kind of freaking out a bit at the idea.

and, because i'm wonderful, i outlined a new story i won't write for three years, because i'm awful at completing things.

allegedly.

i've been having a panic attack since 9am this morning.

i do not like that.

i wrote some of the new part last night.  i wanted to write more tonight, but i can't.

it is already longer than other parts, and i haven't even gotten to the main story point.  i continues to have very little sex or kinky stuff.

sorry.

omg i am dying

there won't be any stories up in the near future.  it is fucking a billion degrees, and doing anything more than "sweating to death" is too much effort.  you said the trades would be back last week, kanoe.  there were no trades.  today you're like, "whoops!  honolulu didn't have a record, but the other islands did!"  make the sky suck less, kanoe.

i'm also thinking (once it cools down and i can catch up some) that i should start making story "traps."  the idea is that once i have the outline finished, i schedule that as a blog post for a year in the future.  then, if i slack off and don't write the story in that year, the outline just goes up and i admit that i'm bad at this.  i think that provides a bit more incentive to actually sit my butt down and write some.

which i would have today during the hours of nothing to do that i spent dying from the heat.  i'm going to blame the heat for why this morning's dream stories were all horror when i intentionally went back to snooze expecting sexy-fun dreams.

and i was dumb on friday night and logged in to a dating site i haven't used in years, and immediately got a message that i've been ignoring.  i should really have a pre-written "i'm sorry that i'm terrible at being a human being" note to send when that happens.

that was fun.

it's always great to have tears running down your face in the movie theater.

even more so when you have to suppress a sob because you know it'll  be loud and obvious if you don't.  then a quick walk back to my car and a drive home, firmly holding together a frown to keep everything in.

then some regret that you got the medium soda, because theater medium is huge, even if it's still too small for being $5.75, because now you super have to pee when you get home.

finally, there's the point where you realize you need to wipe now, because a new sob is coming, and you probably shouldn't bawl on the toilet.

crawl into bed, hug body pillow, stuff kleenex at face, cry for ten minutes straight.


i guess what i'm saying is that if you can (it's not in a really wide release, and never will), you should go see "when marnie was there."

wow it's super late, how drunk are you, sammy?

not enough?  or not normal drunk?  turns out if i don't take sleepy pills, i don't get sufficiently sleepy.

which means i'm in that weird place between "not drunk enough to be incoherent" and "too panicked to say anything".

"somewhere in that zone"

part of it is that i have a day off tomorrow, because hawaii is great, and we had a king, and he did a bunch of stuff, and so now i get a thursday off.

not friday though.  so back to work for a totally productive day on friday.  hawaii doesn't slide holidays around.


since i'm so wonderful at writing stuff, and totally not waiting a year to write things i've planned out, i'm thinking about doing a new story.

but like, not really porn.

just romance, i guess.  also maybe horror.  i have a weird brain, and nothing can ever be not not wonderful if not also tragic.

the idea would be to actually plan an entire story from start to finish, and then start writing, instead of my random incremental stuff.  i have not done much of that planning at all, so i'll have to put some effort into not being stupid about this.

so, you know, we'll all see how it goes.  maybe i write more, and people read it and like it.

maybe i don't.

i really just wanted the first frame, where elsa is doing a shruggy pose, but google image search only had this, which has words.  and is also a gif, so it's way more positive and empowering than i was hoping for.  mostly just that one shrug, ok?

that fun game again, just without fake entries.

• completely empty world.  there's no one else anywhere.
• go to a museum, but end up in a weird sex exhibit.  i was in a room, and there were images on the walls, and sound effects to make it seem like i was there.  so the example i remember best, i could see people tied up and hanging from above, and the sound effects were ropes swishing against the walls.  if you "clicked" on an image, you'd move that direction in the scene, or the walls would change to make it look like that, but it felt like you fell into the new room.
• me trying to find that exhibit in a different museum dream (i woke up a bit).  i found it, but it wasn't the same, and the entrance (which i blocked off with a "closed" sign) showed that it was dedicated to lincoln.  because dream reasons, i guess.
• final part of the museum trilogy:  somebody found two gold coins, so they started digging, and found a bunch of dinosaur bones.
• i know there was another scary one here.
• a big party where i have lots of friends, and we're all sitting around talking, and it's lots of fun, until i realize that this is a dream, and none of it is real, and i'm going to wake up and have a lonely day.  all the dream friends are sad too when i say i have to leave, but they understand and we all get into a car to drive me home.  i wake up when i get distracted because we're driving on a highway that isn't a highway in real life, and when you look down between the sides, you can see an underground highway that totally doesn't exist in real life.

today was a shitty day

mostly because i had a giant panic attack at work, and even my boss was like, "hey, it's ok, don't worry so much."  so.  i guess he now knows that i'm kind of gone crazy.

also, did you know that the maps on craigslist just completely ignore the ala wai canal?  i mean, sure, you don't have to put roads that don't exist, but you can't just pretend that what's clearly water is land.  see?

and no, i'm not looking to buy a mannequin.  i noticed it earlier, and just searched around in "arts and crafts" until i found a result that had the map i wanted to show.  those kid mannequins are creepy, right?

finally, none of these thoughts are related at all.  i just sometimes have thoughts and have to share, but don't have a good place to share them.  so they end up here.

sorry.

dear old dude at the checkout lane,

yeah, i saw how you tried to use your papa john's club card as your grocery club card.  that told me you eat shitty pizza made by that jack ass's company.  that told me a lot about you right there.

"you must like that tea.  is it any good?"  wow.  you're like sherlock fucking holmes here.  i'm buying six bottles of tea.  what made you think that i like it?  is it the six of them sitting there, all together, with me buying it?

and no, it's shitty tea.  that's why i buy it.  because if i'm going to drink something, and drink six of them, i'm going to get something that sucks.  because that's super smart.

"yeah" is what i said.  "meh.  i'm trying to drink tea now instead of vodka so i am less likely to wake up in a puddle of bloody vomit someday.  not that i'm super into not dying, just that if you wake up in a puddle of bloody vomit, you're probably going to have to clean it up, and that's going to suck.  so yeah.  i'm buying six bottles of tea now, because that seems healthier to me" is what i meant.

i thought we had some sort of rule that you're not allowed to talk to people in the checkout lane about what they're buying.  so that means if someone's buying a bunch of toilet paper, you don't say something like, "oh, planning on taking a shit today?"  or if someone's buying the stereotypical condoms and long vegetables, they can just look embarrassed quietly without any weird conversations.

i saw what you were buying guy.  there was nothing for that cheese to go with.  were you planning on working on your night cheese, old dude?

like....all this shit, right?

i hate holidays.

when i was little, it wasn't so bad.  i'd make impossible stupid lists of shit that i wanted for christmas, i'd get a tenth of that, some clothes, some books, and some candy or something, and it'd all work out ok, because when you're a kid, candy and a doll can make any day the best day ever.

then, slowly, it kind of all seemed to rot.  i could hear my parents talking, so i made my list shorter, and filtered out things that seemed too expensive.  i tried to ask for things that didn't just look cool, but that seemed like they'd be fun to play with (so no more rock tumbler, because it turns out you can't just glue them to string and make a necklace).

[i maybe have told this story, but whatever, it's the time of year everyone listens to stupid shit songs they've heard since they were 4.  i get to repeat occasionally if i want to.]

when i was in middle school, i think, we had gotten to the end of christmas, and had our regular ham for lunch, and my grandparents were going to go home.  bachan was getting her purse and everything ready, and it hit me.   she'd gotten one gift.  i had this pile of junk that i thought was important, and she had a tiny bottle of perfume.

christ.  i wish i knew what it was.  she always put on the same scent when she thought she was going out to someplace fancy.  like a movie.  or dinner at a restaurant.  like, shit that you and i would be like, "well, i guess maybe i should put on pants to go there."  she'd break out the makeup and perfume, and i can kind of force my brain to pretend it can smell it, but i know it's not right.  and now i'm crying again.

but i had a pile of shit, and she was happy with one thing and some ham.  all i could think was, "what the fuck is wrong with me that i would think this is fair?"

and now, i'm all grown up and shit.  bachan isn't here anymore, and she'd probably tell me i was dumb for saying stuff like this now.  or she'd be distracted like she was for the last few years.  fuckgin.  why can't i free associate stuff like this when i have a therapist to talk to?

but i'm skipping the family get together this year.  i've claimed "i've got stuff to do for work," and "my boss is a jerk," but that's not true.  that's not at all true.  the real reason is that i'm uncomfrotable with them.  there's the usual social anxiety that probably isn't how you're supposed to feel around your family.  then there's the like...success guilt?

is that a thing?

i mean, if i were to go home and see them, and eat ham and do all the stuff, i'd be sitting there knowing that i make more money than everyone else there.  combined.  how can i possibly make it right and make sure they're not going home with one thing?  i already don't visit much, so when i do, i get fruits and books, and "oh, sammy, you like this, right?" things.  so that on top of, "here, sammy, have this!"

i'm sure you're all like, "damnit, sammy, they're your family.  they're not going to be counting items and summing receipts."  i don't care.  i can do it.  fuck "can."  "automatically do it because my brain is a fucking asshole who can't keep out of shit."  this is worse, i think.  i can come up with far more scenarios in which i annoy people than they can possibly reassure me about.

ok, i'm losing ttrack of the thread here.  holidays.  i'm breaking from the usual stress, and that's a new level of guilt-stress.

and i'm doing new years with my friend i went to visit for thanksgiving.  she was doing well, but then economy and jobs and now i guess her husband is unemployed?  so.  i guess i'll be playing legos with her 2-year old.  at least her demands are simple.  "daniel tiger!"  "LET IT GO!"

sigh.  why can't everyone just be like, "let's watch daniel tiger and then frozen songs on loop for three hours?"  i wouldn't be the crazy mess i am, i bet.  i'd be in a nice relationship, where we'd both get home from work, look at each other, and just be like, "Chocolate!"

and i guess this song is actually by wham?  i've only heard that one and another two jpop covers, so i never knew before now.

"you're drifting again, sammy"

ok, let's close up this rambley mess.  i'm unhappy.  the world sucks, and people murder and steal from other people all the time, for no other reason than they can't accept that everyone deserves the same treatment and life.  there's nothing i can do about this.  there's also nothing i can do about the fact that i'm terrified of everyone i meet, because my stupid brain can't ever forget anything that happens, and i assume other people remember those stupid embarassing things i say and do all the time.  i don't think this will ever get better, and i'm afraid it'll just grow until i get to the point where i can't cope with the echoing madness of long forgotten events and slice myself open in the tub.

so...

um...

i hope you have happy holidays?  i'll probably be back for a drunken christmas eve thing, and then not again until after the new year.  sorry.

sorry for everything.

sorry for not writing faster than i do.

sorry for being weird over email.

sorry for being weird in general.

i know you probably don't hate me, because you wouldn't be here reading this if you did.

i'm sorry that i'm sorry about that.

my local museum is cooler than your local museum.

because my local museum is having a show titled "modern love: 20th century japanese erotic art".  that picture is totally one from their webpage.

it looks like it opens this weekend, and runs until mid-march, so i have lots of time to stop by.  that also gives me lots of time to spread when i decide to visit out, so i don't have to worry about someone seeing me there and being all, "hey, aren't you sammy from the internet?"