CLICK HERE IF YOU ARE A HIPSTER OLDBIE
Posted 04 November 2019 - 07:05 AM
What's uo bro! Yeah I don't think therapy is a bad deal for people looking to work through their thoughts. I accidentally went to a therapist while looking to get legally treated for it. A nice older lady. She asked me why I was there and after explaining it rather alot like I just did here she told me that yeah I probably needed to seek a psychiatrist.
Well back then they wanted to give me a wreckless from the get go. Which I didn't want to settle before because it was bullshit. I couldn't afford an attorney at the time so I talked to a paralegal, she was awesome had my case set. But then the county switched my lawyers a week or two before court without telling me.
I ended up with this younger, prissy fuckin moron that was too busy flirting with the judge and the prosecutor to be concerned about my case. She started telling me in the courtroom I should settle for a dwi because I was fucked. I asked her if she even read up through my case or looked through my files id given the other lawyer. When she said, "no". I lost my shit in the courtroom.
I asked her whose fucking lawyer she was supposed to be. Then she said to cool it or i could be held in contempt to which I said, "BY MY OWN FUCKING LAWYER!?!?"
Then the judge asked me to come to the podium and for my medical file. He looked through it and offered me the wreckless again so I just took it.
It was only 3 months probation, community service, and some fines. To me that wasn't the point, I was tired of them fucking with me.
Posted 04 November 2019 - 09:56 AM
The company id been working for had been working me for a year and a half. Id maybe gotten a few months off, maybe 4 collectively. Working 18-24 hour shifts atleast once a week and not getting paid for it. I was very strung out and frustrated. A few months ago there was a period of time where I ran into the cops a minimum of six times in about a 3 week span. My uncle died, my ex left me because she hated my job and the way I self medicated, even my fucking dog died.
On the way to work I got pulled over in a little shithole parish in a work truck. Almost the same exact shit. Cop said I looked intoxicated, I wasn't. Looked through my bag without asking or shit and found a little bottle of moonshine. I make it for my dad when im home sometimes, i don't even drink the shit and was going to gift it to a coworker who wanted to try it.
So he takes me in and tells me if I blow 0 then he'll let me be which I knew was a fucking lie. I blew 0.
He asks me if I have anything in my system and to be honest because he's going to get a warrant if I refuse a urinary anyways. I tell him Im manic AF and self medicate with weed when im home, but I hadn't smoked since before leaving home which was atleast 6-8 hours.
He asks me to take a urinary which I tell him to fuck himself and he goes to get one.
Kept coming back with papers for me to sign "court documents" I told him I wasn't stupid every time and im fairly certain atleast one was an admission of guilt. Says he has a warrant, it's chicken scratched so I can't read it and not notarized, never saw anyone come or go from the jail with anything so I think he foraged it.
I can't resist anymore at this point without incriminating myself so I signed it.
They find marijuana, opiates, and cocaine in my blood.
The first two I did do. The last one, no. I normally hate that shit all it does is make the mania im self medicating in the first place to get rid of worse.
So I stand up, tell them that atleast one of them is a falso positive. That that's a bullshit drugtest that if anyone ran my blood or piss again would show isn't viable so GOOD LUCK with that shit.
He and the nurse look at each other (remember this) the nurse all flustered says...i..I just took it.
I say it's bullshit again and they keep me in a cell till the morning.
Next day or day after I get a return to work drug test that says im clean.
Go back to work for two weeks.
Near where im working in Fourchon, Louisiana there's a straight road with a concrete barrier at the end of it.
One night we go drinking and I always let my captain drive my car because im so paranoid. On the way back he comes up on said barrier, unlit at the end of the road.
I leave the next night to go get us dinner and on the way back I realized I passed my turn. It's been raining and is dark. I immediately hit my brakes trying to stop, speed limit is 45. Tires lock and I skid through the gravel into the barrier fucking the front of my car up.
I get out and some guy in a truck comes up behind me and asks if im ok.
Says that's some fucked up shit and that his wife came up on the same barrier not ten minutes ago. Offers to pull me off of it.
I can see it isn't damaged, can still drive my car and ive got liability insurance. So I thank him and drive it about 1/4 mile to my boat yard. My arm is all tore up because of the impact so I tend to it myself and go to bed because I gotta work in the morning and I didn't want to think about it anymore.
Im woken at 1 am, its the motherfucking harbor police and state trooper.
First they accuse me of being under the influence. I say no they give me a sobriety test, luckily just the eye part because if i had to walk id have failed it because I have an anxiety attack whenever I have to deal with the police.
Decide im sober so they accuse me of speeding. I tell them no, i wasn't even in a fucking hurry.
THE BARRIER HAS NO LIGHT
I yelled this atleast five different times which they were at no point concerned about
Tell me id better not be lying because they have speed cameras everywhere. I tell them to go check their fucking cameras. I'll wait.
They decided I wasn't speeding either but because i didn't call them on myself for hitting and not damaging a fucking inanimate road hazard while I had liability I was hiding something.
They hand me a ticket that says, "hit & run, not wearing a seatbelt, and wreckless operation of a motor vehicle."
I start yelling shit incomprehensibly and asking them how in the fuck I ran if they found my ass in three hours a couple hundred feet away and how in the fuck they know if I was wearing a seatbelt and how in the fuck is running into a solid piece of concrete in the middle of the fucking road in the dead of night is wreckless operation.
Start yelling something else about me being fucked.
They said, "i don't know why you're so upset you're not going to jail."
To which I ask, "FOR WHAT!?!?"
then i point at the car, "thats a $50,000 car! IM FUCKED!"
they offer me paramedic care and I tell them fuck no.
Then leave. I walk back to the boat and my captain looks at me all sad and tells me that someone called the company man who is an 80 year old sociopathic piece of shit. That im fired and he wants me off the boat immediately.
I was actually kind of relieved and said, "good, fuck him".
Couple months later and squad car lights later. One was a stop for following too closely on my way home from all that shit in a rental car so the cops drug dog could sniff my stuff. Another was in my dad's pickup for driving on the edge of a lane in a road construction area, cops actually felt bad when they saw me having an anxiety attack that time. Another was during my fucking uncle's funeral when I split from the funeral procession on the way out.
I ended up getting a letter from Louisiana about my case. I thought i was going to see the prosecutor but they stuck me on a bullshit first offenders probation program.
She was really cool but the deal was horrible, she actually told me the DWI was better. I told her what I told you, about my hypomania, that I smoked to manage it.
She's going through my file and tells me they're not even charging me on a urinary but a bloodtest and only on marijuana.
I tell her well then they don't have a case. I wasn't on it and the halflife is much longer, they have to prove I was on it and they can't.
She bluffs me and wishes me good luck but that there's a 99% certainty I won't win in court. Also shows me a legal description saying because id told the officer i hadn't slept in two days that's technically a dwi.
I tell her I was also told by another officer that being fucking insane counts as a DWI. Taking your medicine counts as a fucking DWI. So I just can't win can I?
So I got this letter at home about a week ago and it looks like she cut the fines in half. Cut the mandatory minimum for probation. I just have to pay them 4-6k to get off of it and do 100 hours community service and maybe in Louisiana IDK. Also random drug screens.
I'm talking to a lawyer before I decide. Even if I lose atleast I stood up for myself. Sick of this shit.
So that's why I decided. You motherfuckers won't leave me alone, you wanna see the devil then I'm gonna let that manic motherfucker out.
Posted 04 November 2019 - 10:28 AM
You're right I like this guy. Little clepto'. My dad's an alcoholic and an idiot so I did the same thing, I wasn't formerly educated and didn't have much to draw from but an inquisitive nature so I just started learning from people, everything. Most of it started here. Didn't want to be wrong or speak out of turn so I kept looking things up and gathering more information. Now or atleast for the past 8 years or so I just get these urges to know certain things or see something I want to know more about.
It's the same way with boxing. I taught myself orthodox and south paw. How to switch. Balance doing it on a constantly moving vessel. Watched Muhammed ali and learned the rope-a-dope. An ex coworker, mma fighter turned trainer shared this video of Dempsey using front legged grounding and channelling his weight to hit harder.
I saw it and was said, "MINE!"
Learned it on both legs. Just recently I figured out a way to shove off that front leg, shift it to the back to switch stances.
It's funny, I'll be working out. Trying to center myself, like meditation. And every so often an ex fighter will watch me and be like, "that's good, do this, this works better."
One is keeping my feet closer together than a conventional boxer so I can switch stances. Old dude taught me.
I asked, "won't that fuck with my balance?"
He said, "nah, you'll figure it out." And I did!
Also that stream of consciousness writing style. It's "flight of thought". Over time I got better and better at conveying thought so it's less like a frantic misspelled, manic prose and more like a conscious stream of ideas or expression.
Posted 04 November 2019 - 12:16 PM
My cousin is a bail-bondsman and he had a connection with those shroom chocolates.
I would always have this plan for what I was going to do with it. A movie or game I wanted to watch, a state of mind I wanted to be in.
Shit don't work that way and an hour into it I'd be in the fetal position having an existential crisis thinking about the measure of everything and my place in a massive, infinitely complex, uncaring universe.
Gonna say after the fourth time I'd had enough of it for awhile.
Might try again sometime IDK
If im hypomanic usually I've got tolerance enough to withstand it. First time I took LSD I tripped for atleast 18 hours. Chugged orange juice in a gas station wearing shades at 2 in the morning and rode through the city watching streaming lights not unlike rust cohle in true detective.
Posted 06 November 2019 - 03:13 AM
Do you write otherwise? I think you should, you're good at at it and have plenty to write about. I was glued to my screen. Even if it doesn't lead to anything. the local college has this professor who is trying to be like a gritty bukowski guy who goes on shapiro/peterson-inspired rants with heavy misogynist overtones, and even that fucker is published.
I'd recommend on the road. Some heartbreakingly dumb people have decided it's bad because it represents the views of guy from the fucking 50s (yet Hemingway etc remains hella dope or whatever other terminology some white upper middle class suburban-to-urban migrator-gentrifier has stolen and then used to slayyy kerouac in like a Medium article or something). tbh it's not even nearly as bad as I'd expect of a guy from the 50s, a guy decades older than like fucking Rush Limbaugh or whatever other piece of shit. Dude was in a mixed relationship before it was integrated or even legal in all 50 states. all other criticism of it is fine
I read it a few years ago, might have posted about it here. it's interesting how closely it resembles the saltw writing style that was popular here for a while and influenced by like bonzy, chef, hundley, faust
and yeah I'm not excited to try them again, even though I think there was something wrong with these in particular. Strong strand to begin with but parts were looking a little blue to my memory, but I had never eaten whole dried shrooms before so I didn't think anything of it. started out great, for about an hour. I want to write about it but it's hard, dumbly starts to fade as I try to put it to words or focus too hard on it. My girlfriend had taken some from the same purchase the weekend prior and had a more of standard 'bad' trip, and not even that bad since she had a sitter in me, but still broke my heart. she started to briefly cry at one point and it was completely raw, like a child crying. adults don't cry that way, not even the 'best cry' guy. that I'm just writing because I don't want to talk to my therapist about it, and if I bring it up she's going to want to go through a tangent that I don't want to pay to sit through. another nice, older woman. but yeah, nothing like the stories I'd been listening to for months, where basically you experience the world with wonder like a child and then have some epiphanies that may or may not make sense. that's what I wanted.
Posted 06 November 2019 - 10:48 PM
Mmmmhhhhmmmmm I might get so twisted I'll think I'm a bear and try to fuck a tree but I'm not emotionally empathizing with someone that's reliving being diddled by their uncle when they were five.
There's a specific point in my first trip I decided that one. Ended up catatonically pondering about the nature of altruism at a house party where I knew no one, it was my first time, and they were all on LSD too.
I was walking around overhearing conversations from people, perfectly, every word and several conversations at once.
In every one of them I caught on that everyone was abstractly talking about the drug or strangely confessing shit they normally wouldn't wanna talk about. Thought about the CIA in the 60's(?) using it as a truth serum and for psychological experimentation. Then started wondering if the drug itself was kind of self promoting in order to spread. Like it was an ethereal sentience, like a virus trying to reproduce through the subconsciousness of it's hosts.
Then while I was trying to decide whether this was a legitimate possibility or more likely that I'd lost my ability to tell reality from my imagination and with that my ability to rationalize some random girl was talking about giving birth over a bathtub and I started visualizing it in gross detail like that "miracle of life" documentary but through first hand experience.
Said, "im fucking done."
Left and in that moment I decided fuck psychedelics and people they don't mix.
Posted 06 November 2019 - 11:27 PM
But sometimes my flight of thought will have clever ideas or stories and I'll write them down. Intense dreams too.
Had one about following Seinfeld through a post apocalyptic new york. And another one about Patrick Swayze like, some "meet joe black" meets "attack of the bodysnatchers".
Alot of humor in everything.
My ex convinced me to start writing. I never thought anyone would give a shit to read it but after reading it myself when done with it I have been to alot of places, do something people don't really get to experience for a living and I do have a captivating way of articulating things.
So now I just collect them.
Write about things ive experienced first hand too. Like a biographical record of thoughts.
I wrote one about this time I was going through some hard shit and trying to figure out my condition because I'd just found out and in being told that it made me question alot of experiences in my life and what parts of me were me or which were symptomatic of this thing and I just got sick of the bullshit. I sat a gun on the table and was looking at it contemplating some dark shit but even then while I was going through it there was a kind of fucked up humor about it. Then a methhead showed up at my front door out of nowhere like god was directly fucking with me. Like in a backhanded gesture of goodwill the universe sent a fucking junked out skeezer to ask me if id seen the man on her phone in the very few moments I considered suicide. Like a, "So you wanna kill yourself, kid? Talk to my maria of methamphetamine first. My guardian angel of the geek rock. Providence is a bitch, AHAHAHA!"
Once I was in a mood, went on a Bethesda Facebook article asking where the next fallout should take place and started talking about fallout: New Orleans
Mutated nutra rats, ghouls being used on a reconstructed plantation as slave labor, flooded new Orleans, coonass marsh people turned psychotic through isolation
It got over 10k likes and a bunch of shares
It's a thing I just spontaneously do anyways and get a riot out of it. I'm really good at speaking stream of consciously, using emphasis or just the way I speak when im manic, I have this kind of harmless male bravado, ridiculously childish sense of humor, and way of speaking rapidly and intellectually. A girl I talk with every so often says I sound like huckleberry finn which is pretty spot on so it's kind of funny in itself.
Posted 06 November 2019 - 11:33 PM
Once I started ad libbing things I was gonna do when I get to finally go home.
"When I get off here I'm gonna buy over $5000 in goldshlogger and slam it until my fucking face is covered in gold flakes and then black out in the nearest ditch mumbling the incomprehensible just like Edgar Allen Poe."
There's a few more I kept doing it
Even the way I act, I walk with this swagger it's like a fuckin alter ego.
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