Today's day was tough. But the music made it better.. As always..

Spent my morning walking around catching Pokemon then came home. Was going to do some cleaning but just vegged out in bed with the tv off. I ended up doing some writing and I was about to start reading but then I dozed off.

I love lazy Sundays.

I find it's really only the more heavy-duty, old-school benzos (Thorazine and Seroquel in too-high doses) but mood stabilizers and milder benzos don't seem to have that effect at all, in terms of the dulling effect. (There also seems to be this myth that one can only be wildly creative if you're miserable and off-the-rails, but that's not true at all) Based on what I've observed from schizophrenic and bipolar friends in the past. Really it's all a matter of finding a very good doctor who specializes in your particular affliction and actually cares.

Edit: also, meds are often the only thing that can actually prevent violent rages and manic upswings; this is extremely important because most bipolar suicides--for instance--occur while they're in a manic state rather than in a depressed state, as commonly assumed. An ex of mine had rages until he began taking a low dose of Thorazine and also Klonopin 2x/daily-- nothing else, not therapy, not mindfulness or anything helped other than that. But people are stubborn.

Today:

It began horribly (I was baited and dragged into what was perhaps the worst argument I've had in years) but ended wonderfully thanks to having been kindly sent a digital copy of my favorite obscure 1993 mail-order-only Feature Films For Families (famous for "several government and phone company lawsuits concerning deceptive practices and illegal telemarketing") classic, Rigoletto. Which I'll now watch (I have a tray filled with pepperoncinis and gouda cheese prepared) while bundled in my faux fur coat which I've been using as a housecoat lately due to having misplaced my robe. I believe I may even have an ancient bottle of Arrogant Bastard Ale--in leiu of the usual plum sake--somewhere in the fridge too, which seems to be the only drinkable thing that most supermarkets around here carry.

And now it's storming outside!!!! (I've never understood how others don't seem to find storms or rain even remotely exciting; I'm enthralled by them every single time. LIGHTNING!!! Thunder! WATER falling from the SKY!!!)

Yeah everyone's situation is slightly different so this makes sense.

Best summation so far. :)

So the ride home was interesting today. I'm riding my bike out of the Burger King parking lot and I see this homeless dude with a cardboard sign. When I'm about to pass him I see that his face is like a week from being put on a Faces of Meth poster, just covered in bright red sores and he's skinny as ****. Then he asks me in a thick Southern accent if I can spare a cigarette, so I stop and give him one. Then he's like, "Thank god it's not a menthol," and I tell him I can't stand menthols, and his response was, and I quote, "Every nigger in the god damn world smokes menthols." For about a tenth of a second I toy with the idea of saying something, but I'm not about to get into an argument with some redneck, homeless, tweaker piece of white trash in the middle of a parking lot.

What ****ing world does this guy live in that he thinks it's smart to just assume that every white person he sees hates black people? I mean, I know this is the South, but this is not rural Alabama. There's racism around here, but this was some other ****. WTF.

I've heard worse labels...... :laughing:

When you're on day 12 of no sleeping and casually enjoying a paycheck's worth of meth, teetering around in your trailer and you peek through the curtains to see if the world is still standing only to see a black neighbor smoke a menthol, it probably has some kind of effect on your world view.

You should have taken your cigarette back.