Pit of Evil

Facebook. It is pure evil.

I try to avoid these things, and have done for a long time. Not because I am snooty, and aloof (although I certainly am), but because I know me, and me is terrible, terrible at getting anything done when I am aware of such things, and they keep winking at me, with their messages and updates and ‘your friend has put on a new pair of socks’ notifications.
I am bad enough with blogs when I am online, checking the feeds every half an hour to see if anyone has posted or commented.
Facebook brings whole new realms of timewasting pointlessness. Now I can keep track of people who I havent even bothered talking to for 10 years. I am somehow titillated by the minutae of a total strangers existence.
Is it simply because I am feeling lazy and fuzzy this week, or am I just a layabout, plain and simple?

I managed to stay off myspace, although largely through my horror at the aesthetics of the place. I couldnt spend more than 5 minutes there without flipping into some hellish trauma over the 1995 web stylings and flashing pink wallpapers. No no no no. Make it stop.

Facebook is for grownups. People who take timewasting, and pointless chit chat and call it ‘networking’. Now we have a valid excuse for arsing around online all day. We are facilitating business liasons.

Anyone for facebook chess?

the divine mockery of words

Its quite a moon. I am a little lost in it. Not in a bad way, although the line between good and bad is a little blurry on nights like these… things just, are…

This is what I am drinking to keep the ghosts away:

Its the key ingredients of the Darkarita!

Viz:

The Darkarita

• A jigger of Sauza Tequila Blanco
• A small jigger (pony) of Cointreau
• A splash of Blue Curacao (for the darkness you know, plus drinking blue stuff makes me smirk)
• A healthy squoosh of fresh lime (about a third of a small lime but go with your tastebuds)
• A smidgen of lemon juice (just a brief squeeze)
• half teaspoon of palm sugar
• Coarse ground salt

Chuck everything but the salt in a blender, with ice, blast the hell out of it.
Rub lime juice around the rim of the glass, grind the glass into a saucer of salt so the rim is coated. Pour tasty goodness into glass. Sit back and be endarkened.

So now you know the secrets of my success. Ignore. Avoid. Hide in the cellar until they go away. Scraping fingers at handle, whispers, curses.
Its a waiting game. Its only when you’re relatively sane that you know that they do go away, eventually, and you just have to let it play out. The ghost dance in your head. Some of you will understand what I’m talking about, some of you won’t. It doesn’t matter. The divine mockery of words…

No one leaves magic mountain

[audio:inbetweendays.mp3]
(The Cure: Inbetween days)

I have literally no idea what is going on in my mind right now.

Its almost amusing, how blasé I seem to have become about, well, everything.
I spent so many years simply surviving, lurching from one horrible phase to the next, that this ever-increasing not-miserable period has imbued in me a sense of ‘what the fuck’…I’ve been in the shit, and I survived, and yes it smells bad, but I can survive it. Why bother emerging from the shit simply to spend your life dodging shitpools?

Alright, so I am not terribly eloquent today. I don’t care…I aint here to impress you lot with my highbrow repartee.
Here have some Dylan Thomas, should keep you quiet…

Do not go gentle into that good night,

Old age should burn and rave at close of day;

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,

Because their words had forked no lightning they

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright

Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,

Rage, rage against the dying of the light…

(Do not go gentle into that good night by Dylan Thomas)

[audio:feelinggood.mp3]
(Muse: Feeling Good)

And I think you all know where I’m coming from now…

What do you mean ‘haven’t got a frickin’ clue mate?’ I bare my soul, and you just sit there picking your fingernails? Heathens.

Ok. Look. What am I saying? I am having a hard time concentrating. Its been a busy week at work, I seem to keep accumulating more and more side projects because I am hyperfocused and hyperactive at work, so get at least 5 times as much done as would be expected of me.
Its also a dark moon weekend. This messes me up quite a lot. Normally a dark moon will make me quite emotional and prone to melancholy, but throw in hyperactivity and it seems to blend up into a big jazzy frothy intense brain blowout confusion smoothy.

I need to calm down. I am making coffee.
Those two don’t seem to go together do they?

I have no control over myself at times like these. Its when I most understand what manic-ness must feel like. I do whatever I feel like, I lose all caution and could care less about consequences.

Fortunately these moods last only a short time. I’m sure this one will have dissapated by the morning, or possibly the start of the week, it being a dark moon.

I have coffee. I have no idea what I was going to write about when I started this post. Thats awful. Another casualty of manic me. My short term memory, never the best in the first place, falls apart completely.
Strangely, I feel tired as well. Tired and manic. Is that normal? I can’t even remember if that is normal or not now. I can’t remember anything, ahhhh, who am I? Whats going on?

Fuck it. I’m giving in…

I might edit this when I come round.

At magic mountain
Nothing changes
Everything stays the same
Cross my heart
And hope to live
All the time
With a little fever…
(Magic Mountain:Blonde Redhead)

Experiments and Observations on Different Kinds of Air

This post was originally a comment, from the last post, in reply to a comment from PA, and it might not make any sense in parts, but I figure, why waste a load of words on a comment, when I can recycle it as a post and save myself some bother? Energy efficient that is… Go with it. You know you want to. 

The newest computer can merely compound, at speed, the oldest problem in the relations between human beings, and in the end the communicator will be confronted with the old problem, of what to say and how to say it. – Edward R. Murrow

I did a template change in lieu of actually writing anything.
I feel bad for not writing, but then, I wonder why? In case I lose the two or three people who occasionally check my blog? Kind of pointless really. Its not why I started a blog, but theres always that pressure isn’t there? To entertain…It kind of spoils it for me. And I have lost a sense of that community with some of my favourite bloggers going quiet, or just plain vanishing. Everyone seems quiet recently.
And of course I am busy with work, so can’t afford to spend a whole day spilling my guts onto a page. Or rather, preparing to spill my guts, and then spending an hour actually translating the spillage into words

And., there’s the depressive guilt that always comes when you’re actually feeling okay, and not really that depressed. I feel like I shouldn’t write about good things because it will just piss off everyone I know in the whole world because everyone I know is manically depressed, bipolar, suicidal, or otherwise generally hacked off with life.

Pole to Polar has blogged recently about the whole Top Trumps of madness scenario (does Top Trumps work as a metaphor over the pond? Not sure) so I won’t linger too much on that. The ‘I am madder than thou’ one upmanship. I feel faintly embarassed at feeling relatively ok. But I shouldn’t, because I’ve struggled to get to a state of stability for so long, and I’ve sacrificed so much to get here.
Speaking of Pole to Polar, they blogrolled me a while back, but never ever answer any of my comments or acknowledge my presence in their electronic world. I find it a bit spooky. I get paranoid. Am I just saying really stupid stuff and being ignored? Theyre not a huge responder to comments like some bloggers, but I’ve seen a fair few responses to other people, but never to me. Maybe they’re scared of responding to me? Maybe I am looking at it the wrong way…maybe they think I am weird and don;’t respond in case it encourages me But then why blogroll me?
Oh, I don’t know. These are the tiny tiny details that slightly worry mentalists even when they’re reasonably stable. I don’t wake up in the night screaming ‘why won’t they talk to me!’ but you know…it nags doesn’t it…

It brings me neatly onto another topic that has been nibbling at my cortex recently…the whole blog thing…now I can really only see the point of blogging if you get comments, and you respond to comments, and you can actually have a meaningful debate between intelligent people. Just blogging, and getting nothing back, to me, is a bit pointless. Yes ok, it gets the thoughts out, but I am looking always to growth and progression, and I know full well that listening only to myself and my own points of view is limiting and will only lead to me thinking a load of utter mad nonsense. We all need other voices to drag us (kicking and screaming) back to ground zero, the centre of our mentalist wanderings. We, especially need dialogue because we are all prone to those madcap Pirsig-like blinkered voyages into proving the world is round using only the power of our minds.
You (PA, still talking to you yes) have a fair amount of commenters, and respond well, and therefore get some discussion going, when you’re not blogging about stuff that people don’t know what to say to of course. You have been blogging for a good while now, you blog, well, a lot, and have built up a number of readers, some from the medical sector, some from the mentalist sector, some from the kinky lesbian freak sector etc.
Thats basically what it takes to get a goodly amount of commenters. That and doing a lot of commenting yourself.
And I think being female is good, as its reasonably rare for guys to bother commenting on other guys blogs. Don’t know why…I do it, but it is quite rare.

I am losing the thread…
Erm. Anyway. I want more discussion on my blog. But I don’t blog enough, I have no way of attracting enough intelligent people here, and it all seems a waste of time. And the people I like are the very people who just explode and then disappear. Regularly. Its a pain.
Ok. Fuck it. I just posted in the comments section. At least that way I won’t attract any more readers! You have to be really fucking dedicated to check the comments section of a 2 week old post! Well, check the latest comments list anyway. Which I do at all the blogs I read, but I don’t know how many people do.
you see, I’d love to ask a load of questions about how people blog, and how they read, but I’d get maybe two answers, so it would just be depressing. Maybe I should just do guest blogs on a more popular and hip blog. Steal an audience…
Minx? Dame? You need a blogger?

The more elaborate our means of communication, the less we communicate – Joseph Priestley