The Depression Monster is kicking my ass. I’m doing surprisingly well, despite. Well, in that I’m too numb for it to touch my spirit. The buffer has always existed, but it’s only recently occurred why. I’m delighted by this new insight. I’ve decided to accept it without analyzing it (to death.) My understanding is enough. How rare. But I don’t dare linger here. The brain zaps from Prozac withdrawal are happening every few moments, now. It feels a lot like being excessively high on cannabis. It’s almost out of me forever. Yay.
I’m glad I went on the marijuana tour last year, or this would probably freak me out. (Okay, definitely.) I was awed by the amount of weed I was able to consume without consequences during the tour. I watched the younger tourists consume far more simultaneously, also without repercussion. It had the intended effect of eliminating rote fears. Something about cannabis works the same way Prozac does on my brain. Does this mean I’m going to replace Prozac with pot? Nope. 😂 Fuck drugs.
While I had no compunction with legally consuming in the past, I’ve grown since. People who were off my radar then are now present in my world, and their influence is intense. I could legally smoke a joint in front of both Michelle Obama and Lisa Bloom (my imaginary personal life coaches) without feeling like I was hovering over a pit of doom. I couldn’t do it in front of Stevie Nicks, though. I can’t even do it knowing Stevie Nicks exists. So here we are. Post pot life. I’m glad I experimented, but fuck feeling like I’m hovering over a pit of doom just to get high.
It’s not even ironic. Stevie Nicks specifically said to avoid cocaine, bourbon, and weed because she used the hell out of them, and it almost killed her. She added Klonopin to the list of never do’s, too, stating it was the worst of them. Through watching her documentary DVD’s and the interviews on YouTube, I learned of this dark chapter of her story. It made me grieve for what she endured. (That’s the only part that didn’t surprise me. 😂) Do as I learned, not as I did before learning. That’s fucking powerful. I’m amazed by this turn of events, but not upset.
I’m pretty confident I was born high enough. I don’t need mood altering substances to tease reality. I can just read a Stephen King novel. Or Clive Barker, who is rapidly gaining my loyalty as a reader. I abandoned Tess of d’Ubervilles by Thomas Hardy quickly, and read Duma Key by Stephen King, instead. If you’re an artist, read Duma Key. You’re welcome. (It’s an excellent story, regardless.) I’m done reading fiction that centers on women as victims. I’m basically abstaining from the Lifetime Channel variety of novels forever. ‘Cuz holy shit. It’s like forced empathy training for sociopaths, (as if that would work.)
What? Your novel is about a woman who got raped? (Visualize me running away, screaming “Fuck!”) I don’t even watch TV anymore. I have four TV’s, two of which are newer 4k LG’s with HDR. I’m going to give away the other two. The new ones are still useful for movies and video games. And to watch Will and Grace when it starts, of course. My other show, Better Things, I buy to stream via Amazon. I’m going to give away my Fire TV, too, since I just realized I haven’t used it since I set it up a year ago. Oops. Roku made it redundant. I haven’t even looked at the Apple 4k whatever. I’m good.
I need to give away my excess computers, too. My house AI can stay once I adjust her, but all the single card computers can go. I don’t need to know the humidity level of my bedroom while I’m sleeping, for starters. I regret I’ve crossed the line between smart home and smart ass home. Sigh. I thought I would love it, but it turns out I find it incredibly annoying between the hours of 2 and 4 AM. Even Wanda Sykes couldn’t make me laugh during that time… On second thought, she probably could. 😂 But until she shows up to try, I’ll be sleeping during those hours. I’m off to