I have to watch this show NOW.

i have a theory.

how many children of the 80’s have memories of being gassed with nitrous oxide by that fucker, the dentist.

and maybe he even gave you one of these:

yeah, there’s my girl. that red one right there.

so to recap, a doctor gets you high, distracts you with random, fantastical images as he inflicts great pain and terror on you. and this was a condoned societal ritual.

it’s like they begged for a generation of stoners.

someone asked me today, when are you going to start working?

and i said, i don’t know. whenever i feel like it.

the idea of a job is unfathomable to me right now. i feel like i survived a shark tank. why would i jump back in?

but i’ve been working. like hell, i’ve been working.

one thing i do know. i won’t go back to a job until i stop being so angry.

it’s so curious to me, how the heavier my inner anger, the nicer i am outwardly. my anger actually makes me kind. somehow i become more civil.

like i said, i think that’s how mars energy works. you can either fuck or fight.

so while i’m sitting here glaring down my job sector, much of it out of spite, something outside of that storyline got more interesting.

sometimes when you chase a rabbit down the darkness of a hole, your legs pounding after it, your mind needling with electricity, there will be this moment where you’re suddenly slapped in the face with panic, realizing…did i remember the way so i can get back? it’s one of those massive “oh fuck” moments that makes your legs weak and your body tingle as it stops you in your tracks, like realizing you’ve lost your keys but only eight times worse. you’re scared to turn around and realize you don’t recognize the entire scene behind you.

yet there’s a part of you that thinks it knows something. there’s a voice inside you that says, maybe if you catch the rabbit, he’ll let you see what he is and write about him, and there’s something triumphant in that. sometimes in a prism of a slight moment, a person is presented with a choice that could change his life. and sometimes before he’s even aware, he’ll leave his way home at the hands of faith, and run after where he last saw himself disappear.

my real estate agent just sent me a listing showing that my downstairs neighbor is trying to rent out her place for $6300 a month. I think she smokes crack.