dystopian serenity

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As most of you so well know, I am a circus of sleep disorders. It's mostly that my body wants to be asleep during regular business hours, but not even THAT is dependable. No. It shuffles around a LOT or splits itself up or does not happen period and I fall immediately to sleep and wake immediately back up again or fall eventually asleep to wake up too soon again. Once in a blue moon I just go to bed, sleep and wake up at a respectable hour.

NOTHING fixes this. ONE thing manages it, somewhat. Dope. Clonazepam, to be specific. Really just a minor bump and only taking it each night for really long stretches builds up any tolerance in me, but my long catastrophe had mandated I go there, even though the sleep quality is even less optimal than without it. I had to be able to function during regular business hours and it was a very bad drain on my vitality. All of it. The cataclysm and the nightly chill pill and the fucking Nazi impostor doctors in charge of facilitating the unhappy but utterly necessary.

There is going to be quite a lengthy break in proceedings while I wait on the higher court. So I almost immediately set myself to backing off the chill pill regimen. Easy. Didn't do it immediately because I was too fucking fried and the bodily electricity was still zapping for no reason, as tends to occur in a bottomless free fall. Eventually, when one finally figures out that if there really were any option or mandate you had missed, it sure wasn't for lack of trying, and your wiring slowly stops torturing your organs because the bottom might not even be hit when/if you actually die.

I mean, you're still unconvinced, but your body has pretty much given up its adrenal carnival, and something like composure is back in play. That took some weeks. Then I just halved all the pills in my second to last prescription and I'm clean again, with a stash for the next time my life is at stake.

Last night I was drowsy and fell asleep sometime after one in the morning, and wide awake again before tooth hurtie. I didn't whine. I got up, and decided to go to the grocery store with my wide awaketude, soon'ez the drunks could be relied upon to be out of it and I'd be properly armed with a comprehensive list of rock bottom necessities. That's when the scary asshole began yelling vile epithets out in the street and scared me off my errand.

So I reckon the sun had been up for about an hour when I fell asleep listening to old Jim Marrs interviews on YouBube. I woke up sometime before tooth hurtie today, after having battled the forces of head cult leader henchwoman for a protracted amount of time. It had been weird because I'd been drawn to the repulsive man almost like one is when deciding to accept a date.

David Wilcock was holding an acolyte gathering rally in Brookings, at the fancy hotel with which I'd replaced three fast food outlets and a tire store. It made me forget about groceries and the world. They were setting up for the event and I flitted in to tell of a fantastical encounter with the police, involving a cartwheel, and David was riveted. But his mousy blonde bitch henchwoman sprang immediately to a loud repudiation of me, threatening security guards to oust me and it drew his attention off my tale for a few moments.

I felt all the feelings one would in such a case, but they did not move me. I let them flow and then resumed and his attention resumed and so her tune immediately changed. The roof and walls of my fancy hotel were coming and going and the sentient beings I was there to save were filing in and out while David was asking cult leaderly questions and I was regaling him with my astounding escape from the clutches of befuddled cop androids who'd been left agog by my geriatric physics-defying gymnastics out on the main boulevard, aka 101, in bright red pants.

He was fully under my spell when I woke up to this twaddle having come up on autoplay while I'd slept. My immediate thought was it was a cosmic insult to Jim Marrs that David Wilcock would autoplay in ANY connection with him even on YouBube. Then it came to mind that this had been a pretty nice blend of absolute in the relative and relative in the absolute, of bodhisattva energy pulling charlatan vampire fangs away from their moorings: tortured souls.

pipe up any time....