I’ve thought it before about the clarity and sometimes when I’m in about here as I am right now when I’m talking to myself on this. I know what I’m saying or rather I know what I’m thinking and I’m thinking these words and even paying attention to when I make my right little finger go for the backspace button because I got a letter wrong,

Or when it pressed Enter just then to make a paragraph like I’m going to make it do again after I press comma,

I can see things and focus and know what I’m doing even though all I’m doing is talking about what I’m doing but I am totally paying attention to that.

And that’s what I think clarity is and if I got diagnoses and shit and went on proper medication I think I’d see things with this kind of one track focus don’t get sidetracked view of things and as much as it might be useful in the grown up world, I don’t want it.

When you pay attention like I assume it is, all the dragons go away, all the playgrounds, all the swings, all the side track side paths of weird adventures go away or become closed.

and I can’t imagine riding a ride that went from a to b.

I don’t like that I can’t pay attention and I get all weird and it makes me cry a lot sometimes and I wish I could just focus.

but if doing that is what I think it is then hence why I’m scared of such a thing.

Imagine me if I just talked sensible all the time?!!!!!???

I get scared because I think I’m broken but I’m terrified of being fixed.

There’s been a brain thing going on recently and dreams involved and what am I?

A friend once told me they were looking for the new Buddah in all the wrong places.

I’ve been told things about me and the way I talk and

I have dreams about being on the cross but it’s all so long ago it doesn’t even pain me in the memory any more.

I feel like I wont die again but how many times have I before?

I don’t think I am whatever I think I am yet and maybe one more incarnation and generation and then I can finally explode.

Good or bad that’s up to the who knows.

I’d really like it if I didn’t have to come back again. I am so tired and please let this be my last.

But at times I do so feel so beautiful and even though I’m using other eyes not my own, and I can see the reflections into eternity,

I’m worried I’m missing something and have one more go around to go.

There is a thing about stuff I forget to talk about or tell myself sometimes and it’s that, even though I say stuff and tell people things, I sometimes most times forget it applies to me

A shit load of groovy people dig me. They really do. Like totally awesome people think I’m cool.

You can buffet these things and pass them on or however we deal with it but the truth of me talking to me now on my own diary thing is that from since I was I kid to now at almost sixty years of age, I’m pretty fucking ace.

I might be as weird as shit and not even begin to understand myself but all these groovy people dig me and I’m even accepting it these days without being scared.

I’m a total weird and a bellend and everything but I’m also dead ace.

Remember you’re supposed to be saving the last for yourself, now go to bed.

The thing about the booze/high when it’s right is that’s it’s almost my only Focus time. When I can actually focus on one thought path and follow it without taking any (ish) of the sidetracks offered.

I don’t know if I wish I could do this in normal life but it would be interesting to swap now and again.

I know the booze isn’t good for me, the weed totally is despite any outcomes.

But the two of them together sometimes like now I have more focus than I’ve ever had anywhere.

I do need to cut down on the booze but I need to find the same thing in me that I have then but without it.

It’s hard sometimes not to think that nobody gives a shit about you.

You work on a project for months and months, it cost you money and time and especially, specific brain power. It is so difficult to be in that mind place where I trust myself to write drunken stoner type stuff to other people without normal me editing or or some shit I don’t know but I fucking trust myself not to be too silly but if I am it’s only a bit too silly not TOO silly. Like how Python and people can milk a joke and flog it long after it’s dead but still know when to not do just one more.

or something

point being. I made about 30 of these buggers and I didn’t expect a huge launch obviously because I’m me but then, I also have 500 “friends” on Facebook and maybe a hundred or 70 liked the page and so I assumed they were interested.

First day’s post when I thought I’d be taking a photo of me posting loads, but there were 4 and one was a letter to Sandy I forgot to post last week and another was her one from this that I knew she wouldn’t do so I did it for her.

My launch was 2 actual douglasadamsandthecookie envelopes.

TWO. Out of all my friends and family who claim to support me and dig me and like my Art and so on and so forth.

How many fuckers were actually there for my launch?

2

And both (awesome people that they are) are not even in my closest circle of people I know.

I know we all have our own lives and stuff goes on but yeah, cheers for not coming to my fucking scary brave new project launch you fucking cunts.

I made the appointment so it’s my fault and everything but I have to do a grown up tomorrow and get my eyes tested and it’s going to be ace to have glasses that I can see again and they stay on my head at gigs,

but I also have to get my eyes tested and talk to Grown Ups and make decisions and hope my payment card works and how much is it going to cost me anyway and it’s a fucking mind churn of shit I don’t need.

I just want a new pair of specs.

I was supposed to be keeping a diary of my bad eating to make me pay attention to stuff but keep forgetting so will attempt to put it here onwards.

Day before Yesterday

4 (pieces of bread) tuna sandwiches

Yesterday

4 tuna sandwiches
6 egg sandwiches

Today

4 crisp butties
booze

06/07/21

6 egg butties

07/07/21

Another day I didn’t commit suicide and murder myself so hurrah and move on to the next one.

It’s fucking hard work not having the option to be dead and I don’t really now if it gets any easier and I hate it’s a fight I have to fight but mostly I’m glad I win.

A thing joe said tonight that I didn’t let on too much because it was his turn of taliking.

I have not labels for my brain.

I can’t put ADHD on my cv lie PhD or MsC or any of them.

I can’t even say I’m bipolar or put myself on the spectrum or any of it.

And i truly do (weeping as I type) want a label and join in with the gang and be able to explain shit with people listening to me because they think I know shit because I am this that or the other.

I fucking hurts so much not having a label because they seem to make people pay more attention.

But then, of course, I don’t want one because I don’t need labels to describe me and I would hate to be put into a category so I’ll put up with the pain of not having the thing I don’t want anyway.