RAT SHIT BAT SHIT DIRTY OLD CUNT SIXTY-NINE ASSHOLES TIED IN A KNOT HOORAY LIZARD PISS FUCK

The last few days I've been hearing a woman cry. Like a sorrowful weeping. It's fucking psyching me out. I mean, voices are one thing. You know, I'm more or less used to it by now. But crying, that's entirely something else. I also learned today that in about a month my ISP is going to start posting out copyright infringement notices, which is fucking retarded. I'm not worried in the least since, after it's all over, I have the insanity plea to use. The only reason I download music is so I can blast it into my cranium; it rattles around in there and allows me to ignore my hallucinations.

I also bruised my pinkie finger joint.

I don't even know how that could happen. For fuck's sake man.

I did get Borderlands 2, so there's that. The first Brolands is in my top five vidya of all time. It's just too bad that I find zero joy in things these days. Even my favourite activities and favourite food have been unable to free me from my downer week.

On Hell's Kitchen he just called the women's team 'Hell's Bitches' and I lol'd.

My little finger hurts so bad it's actually impeding my typing, even though I only use it to hit the shift key. What the balls.

I have been thinking about mortality a little. It doesn't bother me very much that we are here for so few years. What does bother me are the social constructs we've built up in order to shuffle us from young to old with as little effort as possible. Any job which isn't directly related to human survival (food being the most obvious example) is almost entirely pointless. Entertainment would be important, but again, that's not all that necessary. Any and all finance jobs are useless; they're created based on imaginary numbers inside a computer, which in turn are built upon other random, arbitrary numbers in another computer. My mother does something with numbers for the government, and she routinely shuffles around millions from one imaginary place to another. I can't fathom how pointless it all is.

But that's me just being melodramatic. I am in a good mood, more or less. I'm almost done rewatching the first series of Homeland so I can hurry up and watch the second (it bothers me when a new series starts and I haven't recently watched its forbears). I got Brolands, I'm almost done with pre-production on my second novel, and my meds are at least soothing me slightly. I am not sleeping very well, but the insomnia is better, to the point where falling asleep isn't such a massive hassle. I still can't stay asleep, so I've taken up watching the Jersey Shore. I would totally sex Jwoww, just saying. I mean we'd have to be some of the last humans on earth, but out of all the Jersey Shore sloppy sluts, she's the least dramatic.

I've also been thinking a lot about how my present predicament isn't so much my fault, but rather a direct result of my shitty adolescent years. My genetic suppliers split when I was twelve, right before my developmental years. When I was the custodial of my male genetic supplier, I would laden with such topics as "you're going to hell," "the world will end before you graduate university," "your sister(s) is a bitch," "your mum is a whore," and so on. I'd also wake up in the night to hear him praying to his fake magical space wizard to kill him and take him to heaven.

I could go on for hours how fucked up that is. I mainly shut all that off during my schooling years by having slutty girlfriends and drinking a lot of alcohol. In university I did the same, but I also had a few run-ins with the drugs. I realise now most of that was directly resultant from the fact that I had no paternal guidance. Plus I am the youngest of four, so I can get away with basically anything. After university I more or less shut down altogether, which leads right into my current befuddlement.

Natalia Kills is a good singer. Dark pop is fucking brilliant, unless it's Lady Gaga,

Now Fairyland is on. I fucking love Fairyland.

I've also come to discover why I am so reluctant to experience new media (media which is new to me, not new media in terms of academia): I literally go into a panic attack. I had to stop watching Damages because it was too stressful to watch. The twists were that intense. I've been watching the same dozen or so films, reading the same series of books for years now. I've read Girl With a Dragon Tattoo series three times in the last ten months. I read the Wheel of Time series three times, and Honor Harrington series probably double that. I find great comfort in knowing how things will turn out, and I relate with the content so well that it feels very safe. Reading a new book is so unsettling and distressful that I don't even bother. I have about twenty novels on my shelf, along with at least that many non-fiction works (a biography of Peter the Great among them), but I can't pull myself to start them. I'm halfway through Snow Crash for the tenth time, and yet I can't get more than a hundred pages into The Diamond Age, even though it's at least as good. It's just too fucking stressful. The same goes with meeting new people, going new places, and leaving the house in general. I feel safe here, so even if I might feel safe somewhere else, why bother?

It's extraordinarily difficult to explain this to anyone who has not experienced something exactly like this before. You think you can relate, but you really, really cannot. It's not like a broken arm or situational depression after breaking up with an SO. It's far more intense than that, and it permeates through your entire being.

But what the fuck do I know, I'm crazy.

My finger hurts too much to keep writing. Fuck off.