Tuesday, 07 August 2012
Waking up today in hell. Was having a nice dream where I was drinking with some Spanish speaking guys on some dark hovel of an Astral plane, but I was happy there. I didn't want to wake up. I think the way I feel today is because I have to decide whether to call an eye specialist to set up an appointment. I don't want to because I already owe a hundred thousand dollars in medical and this is just gonna add more to it. I'm hoping that since he's a specialist, he'll want the money up front, which will decide as to whether I go or not, because I don't have any money for "up front." I don't want to call. I just want it to go away. I want to stay in my dark room for years until I die. I hate the sun and I'm sick of summer. I'm sick of doctors and hospitals and pro time check ups and worrying about my health. This is just a shit way to live. But instead of being scared, like I used to be, I'm getting more pissed off.
My fucking body - it's gonna fuck with me every day now. My back went out a few days ago so it appears my run of physical problems isn't over yet. It seems it's getting worse the closer I get to quitting work, like it wants to make sure my last days kissing up to the Man are more irritating and miserable then ever. Or maybe it's telling me I should leave work NOW. Damn I'm angry. Less than eight weeks to go. This is an arbitrary time I set up anyhow, so I can quit anytime I want. I'm so tempted. I'm only working now to get more ammo and a few more survival things. I realize that if I make it the eight more weeks, it'll be only three months until December after I quit work. Then I'll have fun preparing for the end, which better come or I'm gonna be even more pissed.
I once heard the expression, "Work is something that gets in lifes way." How true. You can never really get into anything because every time you turn around, it's time to go back to work. And then when you do start projects or whatever, there's always that feeling of an impending deadline because you know you'll have to stop what you're doing and go back to work. That's no way to lead a seriously creative life because it fucks with your concentration and your energy levels and moods are always fucked up from work. Maybe you wanted to write beautiful classical style music, but you end up in a dark angry metal band because you're so piseed off from work all the time. I'm just saying.
Butterflies and flowers have I none
Because of work my heart's undone
Stinking bastard motherfucking technological industrial money grubbing asshole world anyhow.
Time for pushups, tricep extensions and one arm dumbell presses...with my fucked up back. This should be fun...just another lesson in pain. Bring it on bitch.