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

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?)

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)_/¯

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.

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.

fucking fuck.

i went to two grocery stores this weekend, and both times "pop-tarts" were on my list.  both times, i returned home without pop-tarts.  is raspberry a new flavor, or am i just dumb?  i'm leaning to "dumb," but i don't remember ever seeing them before.

i was also going to write today, but got distracted looking at shoes and dresses online with my friend.  so.

i don't know why this part is so so long.  it's all bondage description, i guess.  so if you like boring details on things that it would be great if i could draw, are you in for a fun time!

if not, the next part is a lot of dialogue and moral judgement.  which is also fun. :-/

just had a craving for a pop-tart, and remembered i'd fucked that up again, and wanted to share.  sorry!

this is me telling you how lame i am, and then towards the end, trying to convince you i'm not lame.

let's get "pinned tap you were going to talk about not drunk, you dumb bitch" done first.

1. do people read "you suck" the comic?  please do.  it is well written and well done, and all the characters are realistic, and you would be a better you if you did.  i thought a lot about reblogging that on my tumblr.  then i decided that i post lots of porn, and josh makes money selling porn stuff to people, so maybe he'd not mind that this creepy weirdo reblogged him.
1. or, you know, not, because that's ok, too.
2. see, he has mental issues too, and i read what he writes, and feel so sad, because i get those same feelings all the time.
3. but he's dealing with his alcoholism way better than i am.
1. glug glug glug!
4. anyway.  read that.  it's good.  i'm telling you how good it is with me telling you this right now about the good it is.
1. this specific comic.  izzy points to her feet to signify she's walking instead of flying.  she's wearing clothes.  she tries her best with "feezon za guand!"  i repeated that so many times because it's totally perfect.  i want to give izzy a hug.
2. what was point 2?
3. i wrote more today.  this is working out to be a longer story than i thought.  it's almost all just boring "bondage description" shit.  i think people like that stuff, because it's more "this is tied up like that".  but honestly, it's a lot of how sammy is tied up.  i like it less and less as i write more and more.
1. but once i write the main part, there's not really any way to stop the follow-on stuff.
2. the story writes itself in my dreams and half-waking dreams.  i could probably try to change things, but if my brain pushes things one way, how would i counter act that?
4. i'm pretty sure there were four points, but i forgot 2, and now i'm sitting here thinking that part 4 involved birds in some way.  like you can make birds do something. 

if you see this, congratulations, as i'm probably deleting it as nonsense tomorrow.

sorry for being weird.

please shoot me in the face

if i ever use the phrase, "to the fuckmoon and back."

who wants a stupid dream story that doesn't make much sense?

too bad.

--

i'm going out to a bar.  there aren't many people inside, but i make my way up to the bartender, and although i know what i want, i don't know the names of anything.  "i saw you had this drink?  it's all pink and fizzy, and i think it has vodka?  maybe cranberries?"  so it's a vodka and cranberry juice with like sprite or something.

"oh, yes, i know what you mean," and he types on the cash register.

"and do you have like fries?" i point to a sign that has cheese and bacon fries on it.  more typing.  i hand him my credit card, and this confuses him.  he goes through the list of cards that are being held for tabs, and then has to find my card, even though i just gave it to him.  he rings it up, i get my card back, and my receipt, which shows he charged my like $40 for "strawberry fizz special" and "super stuffed potato blasts" or similar nonsense.

"here's your water cup," the bartender says as he gestures to the soda machine.  i walk over to that, and try to find the water option.  i find it, clearly labeled as the alternate option for "hershey's chocolate sauce {ONLY AVAILABLE WITH VANILLA CUP}"  apparently in dream world, if you have a water cup, you get water, but if you have the "vanilla cup," it shoots out chocolate.  because why not.

also no, because i clearly sat down with a cup of ginger ale.

so i sit at a table and try to hide my obviously-not-water cup from the bartender, who seems to be doing stuff.  there are two people talking at different tables, and i kind of half listen to them while i watch tv.  which is on like tcm, because that's what you show at dream bars.  time passes, and i realize that i've watched an entire movie.  then the other two people start to worry, because the tv switches to a trivia thing, and they don't know the answers.  i say a few, and they're all really confused, because they don't know them.  "this is all about the movie they just showed."

"huh?"  then it switches, and i realize this is all about the movie they showed before that movie, and now i've been sitting in a bar for two movies worth of time.  i look for the bartender, but he's gone.  eventually he comes out from where ever, but now he's drunk, and just sits on the floor crying.

"i'm probably not getting my cheese fries."

--

so i leave, i guess, because i'm suddenly driving, and pulling into the driveway of someone i don't actually know, but i'm supposed to meet a friend here, and the person who owns the house is a friend of her friend.  but there are no other cars in the driveway, so i just back out again, and drive around the corner to try and get something to drink.  i find a convenience store, but it's weird because i know in my head that the driveway and house are on the mainland, but the store is in hawaii.

i park, and go inside.  there is nothing inside except two pop machines and a crowd of people at the counter.  i look at the machines, and while i'm trying to decide between the two, i glance outside to see two guys looking at me while they mess with my bike.

yep.  i have a bicycle now.  just go with it.  also i didn't lock my bike up, because when i went inside, it was a car and i didn't think people would be able to lift it up.

i walk towards the door, they panic and try to take off with my bike, and i run after, nearly grabbing on to the back of the bike.  i shout ahead, and some big guy slams the guy on my bike, and it falls over.  i run up, hop on my bike, and race away.

back to the house.  there are now three new cars in the driveway, so i should be ok now.  for some reason, i open up a door, and ride my bike inside.  i'm all sneaky, waiting for rooms to clear, and then biking through, not at all making "whumpa whumpa whumpa" sounds as i cross rugs and tiles.  eventually i'm lined up for the front door, and when i see the last person turn around, i shoot for it, making it through.

however, going through the door causes the door bell to ring, and i can hear people coming to check.  i run away (bike's gone now, i'm guessing because even in dream land, you can't bike to a door, open the door, go through, and close the door while still being on a bike), and hide behind some bushes.  i reach up to see if i'm hidden, and that's when i wake up.


--

my best guess is that this was a "hey, let's pretend some social situations!" and it just went horribly wrong in my brain.
:(

i didn't take a day off

i should have.

i can feel the depression pushing back.  i kind of wish i was brave enough to just tell a psychiatrist that i want adhd drugs because i think they'd make me more better at things, and that i think being more better would help me not feel like an awful piece of shit all the time.

i kind of wish i was brave enough to go back and talk to a psychiatrist.

so writing is on hold again until i can get time and enough brain happiness to continue.  sorry.

i nearly deleted everything for o1 because i had this thought that Annie is too nice.  "she's kind of a bitch"

"yes, but she's also come to terms with how she feels about sammy."

"but...bitch?"

"she can grow as a person.  we can all learn to be better about what we do, and what we are."

"biiiiiittttcccccchhhhhhhhhhhhhh?"

"that's not a word."

"you're a bitch"

"i'm accepting your angry words and telling you that they do not hurt me anymore, because i have transcended your shame based society."

"also you're fat and ugly, and you have no real friends."

turns out mi is kind of a bitch.

hi. i'm drunk. are you drunk? i'm a lot drunk.

and i should be at work tomorrow.  but it's like 4am right now.  i woke up yesterday at 6am.  dear brain, why are you such a jerk?

so i may just call in tomorrow, "cough cough.  i am sick.  i don't think i can make it in today.  cough cough."

translation:  "cough cough"  humans make this sound, so i'm imitating it to make you think i have the sick.
translation: "i am sick" in the brain.  my brain is so full of corrupt, gross shit, you don't even want to know"
translation: "i don't think i can make it in today." that fucking bitch has ducked out for weeks.  i want a day to sit on my couch and watch shitty daytime tv.  i know we have a schedule, i know we have vendors to vet.  i want to sit down and watch shitty daytime tv while my brain tries to cope with keeping my eyes focused correctly on a single point."
translation: "cough cough" fuck you.  fuck her.  fuck everybody.  i want a day off. :(

changed my mind, i think

it'll be "o1", "o2", "k1", "k2" all of which could probably just be "kind of a long rambly story, parts 1-4.

"o1" is nearly done with the first write, and the things I was going to put into "k1" are now in "o2".  then "k1" is new stuff i came up with this morning when i woke up three hours earlier than my alarm and tried to go back to sleep.  then "k2" is the same "k2" it was yesterday that still needs to be planned better than "that stuff happens".

you probably don't care about secret code names for all the parts.  i just feel like my brain isn't as horribly cluttered as usual, and i want to cram as much progress as i can before it all crumbles apart again.

write write write

i wrote some of "o" today.  it helps that this morning during my "stupid loud jerk truck woke me up at 9, but i'm not getting out of bed until noon" nap/snooze, i finally sorted out the missing bits of "k".  now that i know where that one's going, i could fix the bits of my "o" notes that didn't work right, and start writing it for real.  i suspect "k" may need to be two parts, as there's just too much stuff to get out in one part.  so, "o", "k1", "k2".  then i think "d", which isn't a kinky part, and then i need to sort out how i want the story to progress.

things

1. i've had two people send me feedback on literotica in the past day.  i haven't updated there since november.  what's going on over there?
2. do you ever order clothes from amazon, and you assume they're not going to fit, and you're just going to cry and throw them away?  but then they show up, and they're super soft, and you wash them, and try them on, and they totally fit great, and you end up crying anyway because you assumed you'd be disappointed, and now you're not, but you had this cry scheduled so it's coming out?  um.  yeah.  me neither.
3. remember those pink/chocolate/white cookies that were like layers with frosting inside?  what are those called, and i should look in the cookie lane for those, right?
4. does anyone know if grocery store garlic bread is worth buying?  i kind of want garlic bread, but i'm super lazy.  not like the frozen kind, either.  the safeway nearby has loafs sitting out that are all garlic-ed up.  are those any good?
5. this is less panicky me.  i still end up crying a lot, and i worry about junk food more than is probably healthy.  go me.

still hungry.

but now i want a specific ham and swiss thing i remember.  i could do pastrami, too.

"sammy, just buy that shit and make a damn sandwich!"

ok, yeah, but my fridge is full of like 9 months of rotting food.  "gross" yeah.  thanks for pointing out that my everyday is just a pile of mold and decay.  that's not something i've known for months.  i know how to deal with it (throw out everything you own, and burn anything left with bleach).  but then i have to put it all into bags, and drag those bags down to the trash chute, and push them through.  all while not breathing in the horrible trash smell.

this is super hard when you have a horrible brain.  "why don't we keep that?  it might still be good."  no, brain.  we bought that pizza in january.  it's not still good.  why do you keep talking about it when i try to fix things?  why are you such an absolute jerk?

i'm hungry

or maybe just fake hungry.  i want bread, but like crusty hot fresh baked bread.  with butter.  so i can pull it apart, and spread butter on it, and it drips butter drops everywhere and i don't even care because it's hot and sweet and delicious.

that's....that's far more sexual sounding than i planned.  i am literally just talking about tasty bread.

maybe like dinner rolls or something?

or with cheese!  a pile of gooey cheese spread over hot bread.

i think what i'm saying is that i want a grilled cheese.

not-panic days are easier to deal with, but i still have weird thoughts.

today has been a bad day

me: "let's do stuff!"
mental illness: "whatever, i'll get you eventually, go do stuff, no one even cares." goes back to reading magazine.
me: "yay!"
work: "um, sammy?  we're going to need you to present some stuff tomorrow.  we knew this last week, but instead of telling you, we thought it was best to just ignore it until 24 hours before we want that done.  so, if you could just get that ready, that'd be great."
me: "fuck"
mi, putting down magazine: "well, if we're going to do that, why don't we think about how great it would be to just cut your thigh up a little bit.  you know, to let off some steam.  get everybody in the mood to write boring presentations.  just a little thigh music."
me&mi: "i should probably just kill myself"

how mental illness is just a fucking asshole.

me: "let's watch stuffs!"
my youtube video: "hi! i could play, but instead i'm going to auto pause because this is how youtube works now.  sometimes we play a playlist all the way, sometimes we just show a few videos then stop.  just how we're doing things now!"
mental illness: "you know, if you cut your arms open, you could probably make that video play without clicking.  just a few slices.  you know.  air out that blood.  exercise it a bit."
me: "what?"
mi: "DEATH!"

so yeah.  sorry.  this is the constant fuzz i fight with everyday.  sorry.

let's talk about animals!

1. apparently such a horror as "social spider" exists.  imagine a regular spider, but now they cooperate to feed each other and build super size webs.  i'm seriously sorry that you and i can no longer ever sleep again, because we'll be consumed by demons with eight legs.
2. albatrosses form same sex relationships.  like over there ---->>>.  i've been to kaena point, which the pbs show told me is where they live.  the road is all washed out and gone, but you can walk there if you're me, 50 pounds and 5 years younger.  but something something no dude albatrosses, so they try girl-girl relationships, and it sometimes works ok.  i love you, gay birds.  keep being cool.
1. i guess they're laysan albatrosses.  laysan.
1. i would still run macnear over with a bus.
3. dogs love everyone so much, i can't imagine a person who doesn't love dogs.
1. "oh.  this is weird.  not what i'm used to.  ok!  let's go!"
2. "oh.  this is even more weird.  i don't quite fit.  ok! let's go!"
3. "oh.  this doesn't work in any way at all.  whatever.  ok! let's go!"
1. dogs are great.
1. typo of "gods are great" is probably a lie.

OMG

i was rereading the first bits of the exhibition story.

and there's a "there"/"their" typo.

i am so embarrassed.

:(

"wow, annie's a bitch"

"there's more dialogue than i thought"

"i should probably do a tom cameo, since i totally forgot about him."


but whatever, because i fucked up "their".


ok.  sorry.  i'm done writing.  i'm clearly not up to the task, so i'm just going to light myself on fire and burn and regret not using the right word there.


"wright word they're".


seriously, brain?  this is what we're going to do?  we're going to make fun of the typos i make writing this post?  you do realize why i'm slowly murdering you with vodka, right?

"because you hate..."

because i hate you.  yes.  i hate you so much i can't even put words together most days.

"that might be..."

shut


your

fucking

face


dickface
:-|

red panda

little fuzzy bear
i want to give you some hugs
you are just so cute.

my internet is broked

so i may be quieter and not read email much this week.

i hate it.

like, my only friend is the internet.  having it not work right is horrible.  :(

i love you, internet.  please never leave me.

it'd cost like $3500

i saw a thing about travel, and it was a big trip, and i started thinking about what the biggest trip would be.

"other side of the world.  duh."

but that has a special name.  antipodes.  and it turns out that hawaii is apparently kind of special, because we fall directly on africa in that measure.

so, scrolling down.  Ghazi, Botswana.  ok.  so, is Botswana a cool place?  "According to Transparency International, Botswana is the least corrupt country in Africa and ranks close to Portugal and South Korea.[18]"  huh.  so you're telling me that there's a place i could go, find the exact opposite place on the planet from my apartment, and it's not super corrupt?  what?

ok, let's look closer, because this can't be true.  "The High Court in Johannesburg has described Botswana as a "pariah state not synchronized with the majority of African countries that have either abandoned or are refusing to implement the death penalty". "  ok, but to be fair, oklahoma jus tdecided that smothering people with nitrogen is totes ok, because they "got people to kill, and they got to get killed" (paraphrase).

so yeah.  a not-awful place i could go for super trivial reasons.  and they speak english.  what

do they have cool things to look at?

apparently ghazi is where they raise cattle.  ok.  so wear boots when i try to find my anti-apartment. got it.

travel advisory: USA: "Batswana living in the USA and those traveling to the US are urged to be more cautious in their travels to some areas within the US as safety is of a major concern."  lolololololololol! no matter what, Botswana.  you and i are friends now.  forever friends. <3

ok, here's the important part:  animals i could potentially see if i went there.  like, literally all of the 'animals that don't live here' animals.  they don't have tigers or bears, but that is all the other animals.  also gemsbok.  you're playing antelopes now, ok?

so $3500 + how ever much it costs to go see animals.  you should advertise more, Botswana.  "hey, we have all the cool animals, and we're not run by horrible dictators.  we're super cool."





also i wrote the notes for "office".  assuming my brain doesn't crap out for six months again, it'll be out in less than six months.

:)

that moment

when you choose the "z" word to end your big story, and then think "ha ha, such lighthearted nonsense!" and then your brain collates stuff together and you go "oh.  yeah.  that.  plus that other shit.  fuck.  that's just fucking awful.  christ.  i hope no one kills themselves."

RELAX! I"M ONLY AT "O" AT THE BEST!

WORST!

EITHER!

IT"S STILL DEPRESSING WHEN I GET ThERE!

SORRY!

The Exhibition: Illness

The Exhibition: Illness
sammy_808@live.com
http://sammytriesagain.blogspot.com/2015/04/the-exhibition-illness.html

read "illness" first

secret stuff!

i want nachos

"sammy, you said you'd get off your lazy ass and finish the next part!"

yes, i did.  i spell checked, allowed "cabby" to be correct, i guess.  said, "no, i'll fucking die before i let you convert 'hoodie' to anything else," and then deleted the bit about jalapenos, because i decided it wasn't relevant.

but i need to do the read through, the "wait, does that make sense?" bit, and i know there are like three points i want to change and add some extra dialogue.  but i have to have the mood to do that.  it's really close now, but i want it to not suck.  and, trust me, when you have this all-consuming feeling that everything you do sucks, that's super hard.  sorry.

anyway

nachos.

like a lot want nachos.  i should probably keep a stockpile of doritos and shredded cheese, so i an knock out 2am fake nachos whenever i get the urge.  maybe extra salsa and queso.  because everything should have good salsa and queso.  i think maybe i just want chips and cheese and spicy.

sorry.

next part written.

i'll try to edit tomorrow, and then it'll be up and i can try to not spend six months dragging out the next-next part.  i think i have the ideas for the next two parts done.  they're not outlined, but it'll be back to more bondage/sex oriented stuff for those two parts.  i think one may even be an actual exhibition again.  woo.

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.

sun-maid dried halves peaches

1. smell like farts.
1. but kind of taste ok.
2. what the fuck kind of grammar is that?
1. "what did you buy?"
1. "dried peaches!"
2. nope.  the sun-maid demands you call them dried halves.  "peaches"
1. since 1912.
3. why not "dried half peaches"?  "dried peach halves"?  "dried peaches, if you need to know the geometry, you're probably an asshole"?
1. because all must bow the maid of the sun.

panic attack.

who wants to play a fun game?

which of these options did i have a nightmare about this weekend?

1. creepy tall monster legs outside my office door at work.
2. having an apple watch.
3. accidentally stabbing myself in the neck while sitting on the couch, forcing me to slowly starve and die there because i'm paralyzed.
4. a spooky haunted house that suddenly appears on the second floor of a different building.
5. a dumpster designated for cardboard recycling.
6. being chased while attempting to find a fire hose.
7. falling.
8. meeting an ex in an elevator.
9. trying to stab someone who's attacking me, but the knife doesn't do anything.
10. looking down from my lanai at the street below, only to see someone staring up at me with a super creepy smile.

i think the lesson i've learned is, "even if you're grumpy that you woke up at 7:30 on a day off, don't try to go back to sleep.  that's where horror lives."

so. apparently:

if you ask google "where can i go to pet a red panda" the first result is "wellington zoo."

really?

i have to fly to new zealand to pet a red panda?

technically, it's a "close encounter" with a red panda.  you get some food, they open doors, the panda comes to visit you.

i'm assuming you can pet them.  any place that's like, "oh, this super cute bundle of supercute is going to come up to you and eat the food in your lap.  don't touch it." is probably like selling drugs or something, because that's just evil.

it also seems to get booked up super far in advance.  which, duh.  red pandas are cute, sammy.

anyway, hypothetically:

if you know of a not new zealand place to pet red pandas, please let me know. partially because i have never heard of "jetstar" before, and i kind of prefer to book flights with companies that won't crash me into the ocean.

post

crazy crazy crazy.

hate my life.

more crazy, followed by additional crazy.

probably should stop drinking so so much.

different crazy, on a completely different topic.

sad realization about my life, and the haze i've lived it through.

tear-soaked comment about how sad i am about homeless people.  because seriously, the fact that we have homeless people today is a fucking atrocity, and if i could, i'd murder people with money to make that not the case.

um....random communist-bent diatribe in support of the homeless?


sorry.


a lot of sorries.

which isn't a word, apparently.


sorry.

today i learned

that "vindaloo" is hindi for "fuck you right in your stupid mouth."

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.

wrote some.

maybe half of act two?

it's four acts.

i'm trying, everyone.  i'm pushing out at that voice in my head telling me my words are stupid.  i know they're stupid, that's why i reread it before i post it.

i'm sorry i'm so lazy and dumb.  i keep wanting to get better, but then i get more fat and more drunk, and that's hard to cope with.

sorry.

love,
sammy

snacks

me: "hey, tummy, let's have a snack!"
tummy: "um?  ok?  i'm kind of doing fine here."
m: "snacks!"
t: "remember that sushi?  i mean, ok.  grocery store sushi.  whatever.  i'm still working on that, so i'm pretty much all cool here."
m: "SNACKS!"
t: "and, you know, not to judge, but you've been kind of a jerk to me when you're getting dressed.  i mean, i'm just here, doing what your telling me to do.  not really my fault, i don't think."
m: "SSSSSSNNNNNNAAAAAACCCCKKKKKXZCXXXXXXXX!"
t: "really, i think maybe we just need to calm down a bit, and discuss this a bit more than you really seem interested in.  let's set up some common goals, and we can see if can find a path that accomplishes that."
m: "SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!"
t: "ok, you know what?  let's go poop.  it's poop time now.  fuck you, you're a jerk, so now i'm triggering the poop switch.  enjoy your toilet time, jerk."

sorry.

sorry.

i usually remember "sammy, you posted crazy shit last night! make it go away!"

i didn't this time, so if i offended you, i'm sorry.  i just have this brain to deal with everyday.  usually i know when i post something dumb, and can pull it out before too many people see.


...

prince kuhio day is this week.

i hope to finish up "illness" when i have that day off.

fingers crossed!

all the time

me walking to my car after getting groceries: "why does the front of my car look so weird? did i hit something? i've never noticed it looks like that."

as i get closer: "holy shit, that's not my car, that's a different car! where's my car? how did they steal my car so quickly?"

my car, sitting closer to me than that other car, but is blocked by a van: "calm the fuck down, i'm right here.  geez."

maybe it's just me

i go to look at something on my phone, and i wiggle at it, and it's just black, and i push buttons, and it's still all black, so i try to reboot it, and it pops up the "i'm dead, because you let me run out of power."

and i feel so bad about that.  like, i got this phone kind of recently, and the battery is so much better than my last phone, so i can go like a day or two without plugging it in.

but when i see that sad no power screen, i feel like i've let it down.  i love you, tiny rectangle of answers when i have stupid questions!  i'm sorry to let you run out of power, and i'll try better tomorrow!  please get better!

frozen fever.

frozen.

frozen fever.

yes.

all of this.

UPDATE!

you can buy chicken nuggets (for a limited time) at the price of 25¢ per nugget, in sets of ten.

i understand that the price is significantly less on the mainland.

i want chicken nuggets

i don't know

Being A Nude Cam Model

'They Made it Into a Joke': A Q&A With a Brain-Injured Dominatrix

just, be nice to people, i guess.

so i finished a project at work.

a big one.  like.  the biggest project ever to be projected onto someone to do.

this is a good thing.  i can relax somewhat compared to the last year.  six months.  whatever.

so i'm totally taking off time next week.  to get my car looked at.  and my brain, if we can schedule that close.  i'm not sure on that last thing.

i'm sorry i'm so crap all the time.  i'm sorry i apologize for me being me.  i'm sorry that everyone can't live the life they dream of all the time.

i'm sorry i'm the worst communist ever, and that i'm not always helping you do better things and achieve more.

i'm sorry i feel so awful about how shitty i feel everyday.

i know dealing with my crazy can't be easy.  i know you probably just want me to write more porn.  i want to write more porn.  my brain is nearly three stories ahead of what i can put down.  this is like getting your dessert before your appetizer.  i get that.  sorry.

i want you all to know that even when you comment with like, "pshaw, sammy.  just do you, ok?"

i know that's just code for "ok, that's fine.  but if you could tame your crazy more, that'd probably be best for everyone."

and yes, i know that.

i have half a bottle of (probably a few years old) antidepressants.  i often look at them and think about taking some.  they fucked up my sex drive super hard.  but i could coast through life a lot more.  things weren't so harsh to deal with.

so i see them, and think about how much i could maybe do better.

sorry about this all.  i wish i could just push this all into a box.

and burn that box.

sorry.

that's the label on this post, i guess.

like this:

i woke up today, a bit earlier than usual for a sunday, watched some junk on the internet, read a bit, then decided to get clean and go have lunch.  "i'll figure out what after a shower."

so i showered, dressed, and sat down on my couch with my laptop.  "hmmm...burgers?"

"no, that doesn't sound good today."

"sushi?"

"do i need any groceries?  it's right by the store."

"no, i went yesterday."

"let's see what yelp suggests."

followed by an hour of browsing yelp.  then i looked at something else.  "no!  i have to figure out what to do for lunch, because there's lots to do, and none of that can happen until after lunch!"  so then i spent another hour looking at yelp, looking at individual neighborhoods, and changing price ranges, and trying to find a place.  "how about that? i've only been once, but it was pretty good."

doesn't open until 4, and it's only 3:15 now, so that's way too far in the future.  "ok, how about that place?"  closes at 4, and now it's 3:20, and i can't get there in time and eat before they're going to be closed, and i don't want to make them wait for me to finish.

and then i had a panic attack and had to drink some water and put the laptop down until i stopped hearing my heart in my ears.

"that's all stupid shit to be worried about, sammy"

yes.  i know.  this is what makes it so difficult.  i'm not freaking out over breaking a leg or something.  i'm freaking out about not knowing what i want for lunch, and progressively freaking out more and more as that feeling continues.

i eventually went to get a sandwich.  that's how this plays out.  stupid turkey between some stupid bread.


it was tasty.  i shouldn't be mean to the sandwich because it took me hours to find it.


and i guess i didn't have to panic delete everything on my blog?  Mr. Christopher says there's a thing where they're not actually going to shut it all down?

why did the first thing need an email, and this is just a forum post somewhere?  doesn't this deserve an email too?

:-/

just in case it isn't blindingly clear to everyone

1. i have severe mental illness.  i should be going to therapy, but i'm so overworked at work that i don't have the time to take off to go to see a therapist.
1. because therapists have to work normal hours too, because we're not so horrible to make them deal with crazy people when they should be with their families.
2. and no, i can't just take time off from work.  because i have to have money for food, duh.
2. i promise i'll go to therapy in the next six months.  i think i can schedule things out so that that all works.  i really hate where i'm at right now, and it's a bad place.
1. partially because there are really only two options at this point:
1. i kill myself in a probably messy manner, and ignore everything after that.
2. i keep drinking and eating badly until my heart just decides to stab my brain with fat cells.
3. i drink too much, because you can't just buy xanax at the store, but you can buy vodka, and for a short, fleeting moment, vodka can replicate the results of xanax, if you don't mind puking the next morning.
1. if you drink propel water in the morning, you get to taste the super sweet not-sugar they use when you puke it up.
1. it's kind of the best way to puke, if you're going to puke.
1. but you probably shouldn't puke if you can, because that's kind of gross.
1. and not a lot of fun to do, anyway.
2. "oh!  this puke tastes like fake grapes! Yummy!"
4. i do have more stories i'd like to tell.  i want to put them in order and send them out.  i can't.  see point 1 if you're confused why this is the case.
1. it's this whole thing of wanting to write, and then doing so, and then hating everything i've written, and then there's a battle of trying to rewrite the bad things, and write new not-bad things, and then just giving up and deleting everything except for the notes, and going back three weeks later.
2. over and over and over again.
3. do you want spoilers?
1. the next part is essential to the over-arching love story i bolted on after i wrote the first part.
2. but it's zero sex, and kind of feels super contrived at points
3. so i'm not sure people will like or care about it
4. so i have to make sure it works, right?
5. because if it doesn't, then no one will want to read the next-next part, which does have sex.
1. right?
2. checking....
3. ok, no, not actual sex, but that's totally got the kink going on, so maybe it's ok?
4. crap.  i hit backspace and fucked up the numbers.  how do i fix this?  return?
5. nope.
6. fuck
7. 
   
8. shit.
9. 
   
10. go backwards, you jerks!
11. pretend this is now 4.4.  
1. but why does this matter?  i don't really know any of you.  i'd be sad if Mr. Christopher or Mr. Veterinarian or Key (title unknown) didn't like it, but most of the other hundreds of people who show up in my "blog view count" thingy i don't know.
1. so maybe i shouldn't care? and just do my own thing?
2. but maybe you do care?  and you're just as concerned as me?
3. and don't forget the Jesse who comments, who's Jesse as in Jesse from Sammy's Blog.
4. Pikachu.
1. why are you talking about pokemon, sammy?
1. because sometimes i find pokemon pictures on tumblr and i forget that i'm old and gross and not like 12 again.
2. and because i edited this post, so for this point to be at all relevant, i have to add something else.
1. deal with it.
12. but getting to the point, if i'm writing for me, why does anyone else's opinion matter?  it shouldn't, because i really just want to say what makes me happy.  because if i can't be happy with my own thoughts, what's going to happen to me?
13. point 1.  point 4.1.
14. so
4. i want to write more stories.
5. i'm really sorry i'm so fucked up.  i wish i were better at pulling my brain together and dealing with things like everyone else.  i wish i didn't immediately see the worst things that could ever happen if i do what i think is best.
1. when you can only see horrors for all of your actions, it's hard to choose an action to take.
2. i'm sorry if you sent me a message, and i saw it while so super super drunk, and then i responded with absolute nonsense.  i've been better at not responding drunk recently, but this past week has been hard.
3. i wish i had a secret backup story i could pull out so people would be happy.
1. i don't.
2. sorry.
6. i know some people will say nice things in the comments.  that's great, but you don't really need to.  pretty much any comment is fine for me.  i know that "did you know that orangutans are threatened by habitat loss brought on by the deforestation caused by palm oil farming?" is functionally the same as "i don't hate you, sammy.  i know you'll get better and write cool stuff again."
1. but seriously, i'm so sad about the orangutans, but i can't call girl scouts "fucking monsters" because their cookies use palm oil.
1. especially when i'm buying like 9 boxes.
1. and because you shouldn't swear at little kids, because then it's all "you're the jerk" and you try to explain about the orangutans, but no one really wants to listen, and seriously, this is probably a bit advanced for even the parents you're shouting at.
1. so.
1. :(
2. and thanks.  i'm trying my best, and i know i'm failing right now, but maybe next week, next month, next year, i'll sort shit out, and get into a better place, and we can all just perv out together.
1. that'd probably be weird.
2. we could just all apologize a bit, and then go have pizza or something.
1. or, you know.  pizza.
1. mandatory pizza.
1. for everyone.
1. everywhere.
1. PIZZA
2. now i kind of want pizza.

• numbered
• or bulleted lists
• are kind of
• cool
• useful
• fun to write.
• sorry.
• :(

just in case:

i made a new blog which will hopefully be clean in the purge.

http://sammyiscrazysorry.blogspot.com/2015/02/hey.html

hopefully i've sanitized this enough that google won't burn it all down.  if google does burn it all down, send me a message, and i'll try to see if sending you the thing i got from google makes sense to you.

i have no clue how to make a sammy808.atom file make sense.  it's like text, but all i seem to find is comments, and not my stuff?  if you want the google thing, you probably want the image links i can't have anymore.  are they there?  who knows?  not me, anyway.

so, hey, great job google/blogger. you got me to make three blogs to talk about how fucked up i am.  congratulations?

anyone else get that "last days of the world" apocalypse feeling, where you kind of don't care what you say or do, because this is all going up in flames tomorrow?

well

not tomorrow.

march 23, i guess, because google has no sense of style.

"He is a dreamer; let us leave him: pass."

i mean, it's right fucking there.  "let's close shit up in march, when should we do it?"

"we could do an allegory to julius-"

"MARCH 23! THAT IS BEST DATE EVER!"

"ok, march 23.  let's do that."


so...

what should we talk about, knowing that less than thirty days from now, all this will be wiped out forever.  condemned to the dust?

"are you out of vodka, sammy?"

yes.  totally out of vodka.  no gin, no vodka, no jack.  is jack a valid liquor?  i have no whiskey now, not even the jack daniels.  i like this taste in my tea.  i should buy more of the jack daniels to put into tea to drink whilst pretending i'm totally not the alcoholic i was a few months ago.

SPOILER!

i'm totally the same alocoholic.  i'm just better at not posting drunken rants.

"oh, but what's this you're doing?"

whatever.  fuck you.  like, seriously.  take something, and go fuck yourself with it, in whichever hole is appropriate.  like i ever cared about you.  you're just some jerks on the internet, trying to coax me into sending me nudes.  i'm gross now, dumbasses.  i'm all fat and i don't shave much, and it's all just gross on top of gross.  want nudes?  want to puke?

ok, that's a bit harsh.  i should not treat the end of the world quite so harshly.  i mean, it's not like people are going to die or anything.  we're just going to have blogs that are read by no one, and no one will ever care about people named sammy.

which, honestly, is probably the best thing.  i'm a bad person, and i do dumb things.  i'm not someone you should look up to.  i'm the warning you should have seen in high school:

"Here we see a decadent woman.  She's lost her sense of control.  Now, all she can think about is her own carnal desires."

whatever.

i saw a thing today that was like, "the horrors of communist lesbian bondage."

my thought: "OMG: HOW CAN I GET THAT?"

i mean, you're going to tie me up, force me to be super friendly with cool chicks, and then, when we're done, we're going to topple the patriarchal bourgeoisie so we can eat waffles and mac&cheese forever?

how...

how is this not a thing i can do right now?

i am so glad i found some xanax from last time i had a prescription.

my heart no longer feels like it's going to shoot out of me, and my brain is delightfully less concerned with everything.

i hate having panic attacks all the time.

:(

seven left.  i need to go talk to a doctor soon.

"You cannot modify more than 50 entries at once."

oh come on, you stupid thing.  first you're all "In the coming weeks, we'll no longer allow blogs that contain sexually explicit or graphic nude images or video. We'll still allow nudity presented in artistic, educational, documentary, or scientific contexts, or  where there are other substantial benefits to the public from not taking  action on the content."

so instead of eating dinner, i'm looking through old posts to find which ones have images and video that aren't ok now, and then setting them to draft so you don't delete everything like you did last time.

but i can't change more than 50 at once?  then why even have an option to see 100 posts at a time, blogger?  why is that a possibility if i can't actually do anything?

i think i have everything set to draft mode now, so hopefully i won't have my second blog deleted.  i also had to take down Mr. Sador's art that i've been using as a title thing.  however, i don't know how to change the title text, so it's hidden in the background color.  crap.

i'm guessing my videos are ok, since they're all youtube embeds.  is youtube legal, blogger?

if anyone sees something that looks like i should probably get rid of it, put a comment on it, and i'll fix it that way.

i can't quite figure out if fiction is now illegal too.  i'm going to assume it's ok, as long as there aren't images.  that's what hte email says.  still, everyone should probably remember my tumblr, just in case this all disappears.  i don't want to switch to there completely, because i really don't like the tumblr editor thingy.


so yeah.  thanks for taking an already shitty monday, and making it even shittier, blogger.
:(

so, hey. things.

i have a tumblr.  not that one.  a secret private one for just me.  and i follow a lot of people.  and sometimes i look at it, and wonder why i follow some of the people i do.  so i look at their stuff.  and it's all a lot of sad, depressing things.

i'm sorry you feel that way, tumblr person.  i will never unfollow you, because i'm there with you, trying my best to keep the crazy thoughts in my brain from killing me.

sorry i'm crazy.

drunk jerk sammy was right that i should apologize again.  she's a bitch on a lot of other things.

yes, i went to the emergency room.  yes, it was because i did something stupid.  no, i did not try to kill myself.  and yes, i don't want to talk about it ever again.  i was fine, i could drive myself there, and i apologized to everyone for making them deal with me and my stupid shit.

i am apparently healthy.  i lost five pounds since last time i went to the doctor, and according to the tests i had to do, my liver is "normal" and not "wtf are you doing?"  so drinking tea is a good thing if you have a serious problem with social anxiety and use vodka to deal with that.  even if you sometimes pour vodka into your tea.  you're mostly drinking tea, so it's better than just a bunch of vodka.  yay.

i plan to take the trash out tomorrow.  or organize the trash.  i think i need to do a bag or two each week.  that should keep me out of the bad zone.

i have like 200 things in my tumblr queue now.  i want to try to keep things in it, so there's a stream of things there.  not like my reblogging is important.  it isn't.  i'm just looking at junk and saying, "hey, i like that, too bad my brain is junk."

too bad my brain is junk.

i almost wrote some today.  very nearly got writing accomplished.  i'm afraid it can only happen on three day weekends now.  like that is the only way to destress enough to put my thoughts together.  that's shitty.  i need to work on how much i hate my life.


did you read Mr. Sador's "The Right Track"?  that's the latest, so you should go back and read the other parts.  i've been enjoying that this past week or two.

i have other stories i need to read eventually.  i am bad at this entire aspect of my life.

also responding to people.  is it too late to respond if your brain fucked up for a month between receiving and responding to the message?  please let me know.  i feel like i should respond, but i don't want to look like a jerk.


sorry i'm not as good as i wish i could be.  sorry i have to hide a lot of the time to keep myself me.  sorry i have to apologize for the me i have to be.

sorry.

dear tomorrow sammy,

when you wake up, you're going to have a super gross mouth.  you're going to be all, "wtf, this is like i ate a swamp."  no, sammy, you didn't eat a swamp.

what you did was leave late-night drunk sammy with nothing but calbee nori-shio chips.  so i ate them.  not all of them.  a bunch of them.

so that's why you have gross mouth.  i ate a bunch of delicious chips.  fuck you.


also, you probably should do a "sorry i'm crazy" post, and tell people about how you had to go to the emergency room.  that's a fun story you probably don't want to share.  dummy.

at least you're not dying so fast.  so that's something, jerk.

but yeah, tell everyone about the tumblr queue you're going to try to not fuck up this time.  and the stories you could probably write if you didn't do dumb shit all night long.  and how you're "totally going to keep my apartmnet clean".  the bathroom trash is on the floor again.  good job lasting like less than a week.  keep this up, and you totally won't have 22 bags of trash to take out next time you have to have someone look at your apartment.

ok, time to go to sleep, and wake up tomorrow and feel bad about how much you need to explain because i wrote this now.

i probably should love you more than i do, but i don't, and we probably should go to therapy to work on this.

dumbass.

because i've had the sads all week long. sorry.

because maybe some people don't know they're wrong?

i've decided what i want to be when i grow up.

i want to be the person who pets red pandas all day, so they know that they're the cutest animals in the world.

i hate having to can

when it's clear that i can't.

:(

hey

usual lies go here.


but the main point for today.

how do people deal with the horrors of modern life?  i mean, i see lots of people online who are sad and broken and unhappy with everything.  like me.  and the literally 99 other people i've seen online who say the same things.  this isn't right.  why aren't things less sucky?

and like homeless people.  "again with the homeless people, sammy."  yess.  again with them.  why do we have homeless people?  why do we not just all agree that we shouldn't have homeless people?  why don't we just find some houses, and put the people in the house?  "that'd just encourage people to be homeless, sammy."  what?  like, seriously what?

people are going to be all, "oh, did you hear about legless joe?  he got a brand new free house, so i'm just going to chop off my legs and quit my job to be one of them lucky homeless people"?  who's going to do that?  people aren't going to quit their job to be homeless just to get a job.

unless, obviously, their job sucks, and the standard path to buying a house is so arduous that they don't think that's ever going to happen.  so.  you know.  maybe that should be something to work on as well, right?

so, again, if you're a republican, you should go fuck yourself, and then stop following me, in that order.

but honestly, how do people justify that shit?  "i don't want anyone to get better, because if they're doing badly, then they deserve it?"  what is that?  who wants people to do badly?  shouldn't we all want everyone to be happy and healthy and shit?

"you're stupid, sammy, who's going to pay for that?"  duh, jackass.  rich fuckers.  do you own more than one car?  then you could probably help someone not starve to fucking death on the damn street.  how many cars can you drive at once?  is it one?  yeah.  that's what i thought.

sorry for being grumpy and weird, but when you see this shit like every fucking day, you can't not want to help.  and knowing that i want to help, and i know that i'm only capable of that because the universe is too fucking dumb to see how much worthless garbage i am, makes me so super angry at everything.

sorry again.  i just.  me.  this.  all that.  random gestures you can't see where i point at things you also can't see.

why?

:(

ok. yeah. that's something i remember

that feeling when you wake up to power tools outside fucking up everything, and check your phone, and it's not even 8 yet.

so woo woo dreamy half sleep.

and then panic attacks.  all day.  constant panic attacks making it nearly impossible to pull my brain together to do anything.  so that's fun.  shaky hands and trying heavy breaths to see if that calms things down but knowing it isn't going to.

at least my apartment is "clean."  not regular clean.  just not like there's vomit everywhere or shit like that.

i really hope i can keep myself together to keep it this way.

having a kind of clean apartment is weird.

like, i go to the bathroom, and it's not a disgusting mess.  i go to my bedroom, and there's like space to walk around and shit.  it's like being in someone else's house.

so today i got an email from my boss that was like, "what's up with this asshole?"  so i went to talk to him, and i told him, "oh yeah, he sent that email to me yesterday, but like i don't have time to drop everything i'm doing to magically solve all of his problems."

"i mean, duh, right?  who plans ahead so well that they're like 'i need this next week because reasons'?  that's clearly not a poop-it-out-in-a-day thing."

"plus, this is the same dick who was all 'tell me if i'm doing this right' last year, and when i asked 'like, tell me what you're doing?' he ignored me."

"ok, fine.  cc me on the email you send back, and be like, 'whatever, not going to happen, jerk-face'"

i mean, not really.  those aren't at all the words, but that was totally the vibe i got from it.  and seriously.  if you need something enough to put all sorts of "this is vital" and "URGENT!!!!!!!" in your email, maybe you need to plan more than like three days ahead.



i'm trying to do a post every day this week.  not really sure why, it just seems like the right thing to do.  hopefully this "clean apartment," "chatty kathy" feeling will stick around and i'll be able to respond to all my messages.

hrm. this isn't a good feeling either.

so i've been cleaning my apartment, because my landlord wants to do an inspection thing.  it's been like three years since the last one, but i guess "we need to do one." suddenly.  now.

which means i've learned that i have lots of trash, and under that trash is gross stuff.  ick.  i should clean up more.

but, because i took out a bunch of trash, and vacuumed a bit, and cleaned up some, my apartment isn't an oppressive mess.  which makes me feel better.  not good, right, just not as awful horrible as always.

and then today i got a lot of junk sorted out at work.  just boom boom boom done done done woo woo woo.  except when i looked at the clock, it was almost an hour past when i usually go home, and my brain kept telling me all sorts of other things i could do, and how cool it would be to do those things too.

so, i think when i go back to the brain doctor, i need to ask about manic episodes as well.  i guess it's good to see that my brain can come up with new ways to be crazy.

go me.

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?

promises i'll likely break

that one dream story.  i'm just going to give up tomorrow and post it.  i know it's not good.  but i've sat on it for like a month, and it's not going to magically get better.

that new dream story that came up last night.  just fucking do it, and get it out.  sure, no one is going to get or care about the ear wax part.  that's weird, sammy.  you're weird.  but if you do it, it's at least done and over.

the rest of everything:  i'm in a bad place right now.  i know that.  i do appreciate people being supportive, but a lot of times that support isn't helpful.  that sounds crazy.  i'm so sorry about this.  i just don't know how to make my emotions make sense to other people when they do something.  i know i have dumb emotions that do stupid things.  i know that that doesn't make sense to people.  i'm just trying the best i can.

if you sent me a message recently, i'm going to try to get to it tomorrow.  animal planet does this puppy bowl thing, and i am far less triggered when i have puppies to watch.  they are cute and stumbley and cute.  i wish i could be cute and cute.

so, again, sorry for being dumb.  i think i can pull together enough sanity for a bit.  sorry that my brain isn't great.  i wish i could be someone who was confident and posted everyday with shit.

sorry i suck.

thanks for sticking with me.

i can't even

here's the reference, if you don't get it.

so like this past week i've had like ten people tell me how cool i am.

no.

stop that.

listen:  i almost deleted this and my tumblr, and my everything i could think of, on wednesday.  i was pretty sure i was going to figure out which kitchen knife was sharp enough, and end it.

which, yeah, ok.  that's fucked up, and i should go to therapy.

i know that.  if you've told your boss you need three days off to talk to therapists, let me know how that worked for you.  because i know i need therapy.  duh.  i'm suicidal pretty much all the time.

"but, sammy, we love you and your stories!"

stop it.  seriously.  you don't help when you say things like this.  i know it's dumb, and it sounds stupid to normal people.  i can't deal with positive feedback.  stop it.  my brain is kind of constantly pumping out goads to tell me that i should kill myself because i'm stupid and useless.

having people respond and be "i love you sammy!" makes me even more depressed, because i have to live in the world i actually live in, and my apartment is full of trash, and i think everyone is mocking me.

so

ok.

i have like nine messages i need to respond to with "please, no, sorry, i'm a fuckup.  sorry!"

can i ask this, instead?

if you want to be supportive, or like, "i like your shit.  it's not terrible shit.  decent enough shit, i guess".

tell me a fact about an animal.

i don't care what it is, or which animal.  like, i look at cat videos, or tiger videos, or alpaca videos, and i really calm down.  otter videos!

that fucker doesn't care that i kind of want to eat an asshole while it's shitting.  it just wants to eat yummy food and do what it thinks is right, and doesn't want to be a jerk about it.

that would be so easy.  fucking animals and their "sorry, didn't make civilization because even if it makes disease less likely, it's kind of a pain in the ass."


i'm really super sorry.  i wish i could put up a good position so people could enjoy me, but that doesn't work.  i'm not blaming you at all, so don't get worried about that.  i know this is me being a jerk about other people.  i'm bad at this.

sorry again.

i will try to respond to messages.  i'm just.  here.  there.  not being able to.  this.

<me.  gesturing at everything everywhere.>

this?

sorry.

(a lot.  sorry)

"Because only squares eat square pizza, and only fags eat dicks, so your both."

point 1) i've had square pizza, and although it's usually breadier than the triangle-arc style, i never felt weird about it.

point 2) i'm pretty sure girls eat dicks too, otherwise getting a blowjob would be some sort of magic that people wouldn't know about.  "did you know you could come if someone sucks on it?  how does that even happen."

point 3) your.  sigh.  even if this guy is like 12, he should know homophones.  please, everyone, make sure people know about homophones.

also have this, which i just don't even.

have i told this new story?

read this first.

i'm visiting my friend again, who's now on the west coast, so it's all new and exciting to visit a new place.  but hawaii to mainland flights are scheduled at "impossible o'clock," so i get in at like 5am.

since she's super smart and loves sleep, she sends her husband to pick me up.  but at some point, he needs something from the glove box.

i legitimately can't remember what it was.  phone charger?  maybe?

whatever it was, it doesn't matter, because sitting next to the car book thing is my knife.

again.

it's super dirty, and the one rubber "stabby grip" that was always loose is gone, but when you've known a knife like i have, you'd recognize it anywhere.

"Yeah, that's it," he says as he grabs whatever it was and then the box is closed and i'm sitting there half stunned fighting jetlag as we drive home.


i kind of want to send her a note and ask that she take my knife out and drop it in the ocean.  give it to the whales to sort out.  whales are smart, right?  they'll do the right thing.

updates on thingsn

1. did you know if you lazy press keys to make your browser autocorrect to "sammytriesagain", you might end up just pressing s enough times to spell ss, which is apparently a nazi thing.  oops.  please don't think i'm a nazi, google.
2. did you know if you stop drinking when you've been drinking to treat the crazy that kind of consumes your brain when it isn't doing other things, then your brain kind of just channels that crazy into horrible anxiety about everything?
1. so i maybe ignored your email if you sent me one, because i can't deal with conversations right now.
2. and if you posted comments that i read, didn't understand, and then panicked about, i also probably couldn't deal with that either, so i just ignored them instead of trying to respond to all the comments.
3. or if you follow my tumblr, you'll notice that it all kind of stopped about wednesday, because that was when my sanity broke a bit, and i woke up in the middle of a conversation with imaginary people.
3. speaking of imaginary people, i have a new random story to finish.  i had a dream thing, and then because alarms are made by the devil, my alarm went off before it could finish, leaving me in the purgatory that is the world outside of your dreams.  i've plastered over the main plot hole with pizza, because that's how i cope right now.
4. pizza is awesome.
1. so that's why i reblog pizza porn when i see it.
2. and why i follow a pizza porn blog.
3. and i keep wondering what the most efficient money/pizza frozen thing is.
1. those shitty totinos party pizzas that aren't enough for one person?
2. pizza rolls, which at least attack with flaming guts when you try to eat them.
3. french bread pizzas, which seem like they're trying to be fancier than they are
4. hot pockets?  they're kind of gross, but also kind of a calzone.
5. are the pizza bagels you buy as good as making them yourself?
1. note that my fridge is kind of a horrorshow of mold.  i need to gather enough sanity to clean it out, i think.
5. i will try to pull myself together this long weekend to respond and be social and pretend i'm human inside.  i hope everyone here understands that i'm not, and i have to struggle to do normal things.  i know i'm not that great of a writer, so i'm grateful for people for doing that understanding.
1. butt.
2. not butt.
3. really.  putting together a "what's wrong with me" thing is super painful.  i guess imagine having to tell someone you're sick, but like you have to stab your arm in five places so your boss knows your arm doesn't work.  or you keep coughing, but you have to have a lung removed and sent through a scanner for it to count.  that's how i feel most days.  like my brain is going to object to stupid shit just because it can.  at least at work now i just have to claim i'm sick and not prove things.  i'm "whatever the word is where it means you're not being oppressed by those who run the means of production for their own personal enrichment at the expense of all other concerns."  i want to say proletariat, but i don't work in a factory, so that seems wrong.  i am a bad communist.
4. like, that's probably not even communism bad.
5. sorry.
1. super sorry.
6. did you know getting automatic numbers is bad for things?
7. because you then come up with reasons to make more.
1. more is cool.
2. more is better.
3. people like things that come in threes.
4. you can avoid complicates mental health issues by diverting the topic along a tangential sub point.
1. like this one about puppies and how cute they are
5. and avoid the trouble you might expect from that divergence.
6. six.
7. seven.
8. ate.
9. nine.
10. but, really
1. there's a new shit story from a dream that's going up this weekend.
1. it's half written
2. it's not been done in my usual
1. notes
2. first copy
3. rewrite copy
4. reread for sanity
5. post
3. style.
4. it's the
1. write a copy.
2. make sure the copy isn't just the word "poop" a bunch of times.
5. version.
2. it's not really that bad, i could probably make it better if i could focus why my brain chose her and that topic and that location.
3. new thought?
1. i have two exhibition parts planned still.  
1. "illness" has been dragging out for four months or so.  
2. i know how it goes down because i have the notes sheet.
3. it still doesn't have any sex, but i really think it sorts out a lot of the social aspects of the story.
1. "office" is the next next, and i have it half planned right now
1. with the second half fake planned in my head.
4. i don't know how to finish this story, so it may just drag on forever.
1. it's not a "happily ever after, the end" thing
2. or a "you see how they fuck shit up, and it closes just before it all comes tumbling down."
3. how does macbeth...romeo and...caesar...
1. do they all end with everyone stabbed and dead?
2. fuck.
1. i'll need to write something new, then
1. i guess.
2. poop.
1. probably not poop.
11. ok.
1. i'm tired.
1. so it's sleep time.
2. good night.
3. sleep tight.
4. bedbugs are jerks.
1. stab them in their face.
2. bye.
12. blog.
1. a post.

i wish i knew how to have real human conversations.

instead of just freezing up and avoiding all the time.

it'd probably make me seem like less of a freak and more of a normal person.

oh well, time to avoid some more conversations and not go on a date.  yay!  go me!

i think i'm sick or getting sick

i've been shivery and either too cold or too hot all day.  my tummy is all grumpy, and i threw up lunch.

i think if i feel like this tomorrow morning, i'm just going to call in sick and go eat soup.  grumble.

i guess then i'd have time to sit down and actually write the next chapter instead of outlining a new one.  like i did for a bit this evening before i got distracted and stopped.

that moment

where you wake up (like really, or the similar youtbe thing)

and just shiver forever, because it's a cold weather thing i guess.

and then curse that shitty cold weather we had for more than a week.


some of us don't wear clothes to bed, the weather.  try not to  be such a dick, ok?

i am tired of crying

today i've been crying.  a lot.  for stupid reasons.

i saw a video with a puppy and a kitten being friends.

tears.

i looked up something on wikipedia and ended up reading about space missions to mars.

tears.

i tried to figure out if i could go to the arbys in the navy exchange in pearl harbor even though i'm not in the military, i just want the arbys that i can't get since they closed at ala moana.

tears.


these are stupid reasons for crying.  i don't want to read "the rover stopped working 904 days into the mission, 901 longer than expected" and then start bawling.  it's stupid and wasteful.  yes, i know i personify my computers more than i should.  i know i called my old phone, a "stupid useless old dried up cunt."  i know i called my new phone "sexy master ass-bot".  to be honest, though, my new phone is so super much better than that stupid useless old dried-up cunt.

but like, i didn't sleep with space rovers.  or a puppy and kitten.  or arbys.  i regret like two of those.

i think i'm just random sad in weird ways.   which totally sucks.

a bunch.

and here we go.  no tears now, not when it's for sammy.

you're such a jerk, brain.

new year, new post, same old crazy

hey.

i wonder if anyone else feels like they've just stepped onto a stage in some sort of bar or club or restaurant or someplace like that, but seriously i've never really been to a place with a stage, so i'm making things up. when they write a blog post.  ok.  so i fucked that joke up.  i'm off to a great start at this.

i have a bunch of things i want to say, and although i've been coping well this past week, it's always easier to wait until the weekend when i can drink and let myself be free to do so.  because that joke i fucked up.  right?  you get what i'm going with?

ok, thing 1:  i did more doctor stuffs, and the doctor sent me an email with the instructions "avoid alcohol, eat healthy, exercise more."  so, i'm lying here in bed, kind of drunk, and i have a sleeve of poptarts that i'm totally going to eat in a few minutes.  you're not the boss of me, doctor jerkface.

thing 2:  i need to go back to therapy.  this leads to point 3, so

point 3:  going on vacation for the holidays was super healthy.  ish.  things that were good: three year olds are kind of 50/50 jerks and super cute.  she punched me in the face, and was sent to the corner, prompting her to cry and scream.  she was told she had to apologize to me, and so she fell to the floor to cry and scream some more.  "do you want to watch your animal show?"  "yes."  ANIMAL SHOW TIME.  "i'm sorry i punched you."

and then your heart melts and you just want to give huggy squeezes to that tiny jerk.  it's this kind of moment that makes me regret my "maybe let's not have kids, ok?" plan.  not that i have partners for a kid plan anyway, but whatever.  little kids are cute when you don't have to clean up after them.

things that were less good:  "yeah, so if he doesn't shape up, i think i'm just going to divorce him.  she'll live with me, since i'm more capable than him.  i figure i'll just find a sex friend and that'll replace him."  not what i was expecting.  is he a kind of lazy unemployed dude?  yes.  does he not shower as much as i think people should shower?  yes, but he totally did that before they married too.  do i feel super weird when she's not there and it's just the two of us, and we have to try and pretend we're friends independently, when we both know we're not?  duh.  still, i don't htink them getting divorced is the best strategy (which is, obviously, him not being dumb and getting a job and being productive and shit).  "couldn't you be the sex friend, sammy?"  ew.  ick.  no.  she's like my sister, you creepo.  "sammy, you're totally on the elsanna ship, and they're sisters."  but not like my sister.

it's like i shoot ice into the hearts of everyone around me, and i'm afraid i'd do that to people i care about if we had a relationship.  does that make sense?

things that were unexpected: "so...yeah, i think i might see about going back to therapy.  i've kind of felt depressed recently."  "oh?  really?  you think?  which part of 'i'm a grumpy muffin about everything that doesn't involve puppies' tipped you off?"  i guess i put off depressed vibes in real life too.

"should we call your people now and set up an appointment for you?"  "uh...no...i'll do it when i get home."  "are you sure?  we could do it now, we're not doing anything else."  "yeah, it's ok."  "ok, but let me know when you've done it, so i can stop reminding you."  i'm...i'm really not used to having someone point out my mental issues, kindly assure me that they're on my side, and then try to get me to sign up with a therapist while they can watch and help.  this is weird to me.  i still haven't made the appointment, but she keeps reminding me, and isn't going to stop until i do it.

honestly, i've been so long without friends who are helpful and interested in helping me not be crazy, that having someone come out and do that is weird.  i wish i could fix my social anxiety enough to make this a common occurrence.


but really, who calls someone a "grumpy muffin"?  really.  that was what she called me.  "grumpy muffin."

thing 5:  you maybe didn't see it, but Key, or the collective known as Key, or the blog with stories you should totally be reading because it's great (if confusing, but still great) did an Eroticas Rehabilitas where she reads stories and fixes how things went wrong at the end.  for me, of the Exhibition stories.  the that me, that's the fiction me.  except not to fix things, because i'm trying really hard to make exhibition not the same lame "and then the cage was welded shut forevers.  FOREVERS!"

first, the erotica rehabilitas stories are brilliant, and if you're here, you should go read them.  unless you wrote them.  then, just, like....bask, i guess.

second, i forgot, but it was probably self deprecating.  i try not to be a jerk about things, which is why i'm so awesome, right?

stuff 5:  i really want to get the last known part written this weekend.  i think i have a clear gap of almost-sanity available to write it, and even though it's kind of zero sex, and the conflict is pretty lame, i want to get it done, and see what my brain comes up with to follow it.

yes, there's that story.

and that one, but you never fleshed it out.  "ON A FARM" isn't an outline, sammy.  that's three fucking words.  put some effort into it.


thanks for reading all this nonsense.  i'm going to try and see if 2015 can be a better year than 2014.  and i'm going to try to write more if i can.  i just want to be better than i feel i am.