Author: admin

If an Asian man doesn’t act submissively, I get dominating. I’m used to them sunitting to me. If a black man jingles his keys, I get dominating. If a white many does, I think he’s friendly. It’s hard. If I don’t act dominant, a white man may try to intimidate me which does this weird mind controlling effect on me. I’m trying to just be a mature, refined adult.

This poor world. There could be so much more peace!

What if all fire was the same? Like, all a part of one fire. All across the globe. It was all one big fire, burning in little bits on everyone’s candles, fireplaces, lamps. It’s a bizarre matter. Most other matter makes much more sense. Water. Rock. Air. They all are definite and also indefinite. They don’t go away. But fire, starts and stops. Is there ever a point when there is no fire anywhere?

Not in her world.

Well, I couldn’t say it until I could fully define it maturely. I’ve been trying to figure out how I could explain this to Stacey. The problem between me and here, is that I experience a very intense primal sexual desire around her, that supersedes any feeling of relationship, friendship, or kinship. So my task, is to find the balance.

She can sense it, and it overwhelms her and she feels objectified. And that goes against her heart. So she rejects me.

Humans fight. It’s historical. But the world, is generally at peace right now. But the urge to fight remains. It’s me. Definitely. It’s everyone. How do I soothe the primal instincts?

I had just dropped a letter into the mail to my old neighbor. We hated each other. I don’t know why. I felt that he started it. Maybe he was responding to something I wasn’t aware of about myself. The letter included four tickets to the charter boat Chardonnay II.

I was at mass tonight. Everything was a lot more real. The scripture was about John the Baptist. He was a real person. Just like me. In my own grandiosity it’s easy to see others in the same way. But both me and him, both just two men. Like everyone else in the chapel. Same feelings. Same problems.

I hope this Christmas fit is a time of forgiveness. Seeing that no matter what happened, love is still important. We are all broken.

I crashed my bike because coming round the corner, a black man was standing, leaning out into the cars, angrily staring at a cat with their window up. I profiled him because he was black. I thought, see, this is why people are racist. Look at you. And I thought the same thing about my old neighbor who has dark skin. But it’s not right. I was being racist. If it was a white man doing the same thing, I would have chosen to understand.

A quarter mile later, I through up a huge wheelie, presumably in pride. White pride. But in my pride, I forgot that my brakes were drenched in oil.

I think this is what is going on. And I use pain to get my fix. My mom was born addicted to amphetamines. Her mom had been prescribed to take them. Perhaps I had a similar fate. Last night I was giggling. I thought it was because I was in so much pain. No. It’s the endorphin rush. It’s the same as opioids. Halfway between sleep, my musical brain lineage kicked in. I heard an entire country band playing unique songs. I heard an entire orchestra playing symphonies. I used to have this when I felt safe and secure. I gave up all my security. I needed a drug to bring me back. I think that is what happened. That’s kind of scary.

Is this why I liked to hang around the homeless? Get a contact high? Inside, I am addicted to pain. Maybe it’s the rush. The endorphins. The adrenaline. I keep hurting myself. And it’s almost as if, something inside of me did it on purpose.

It’s me as a kid. Wandering around. Barely able to walk. Happy. Curious. Bright eyed. Slam. Unconscious. Why happened? No one really knows. We don’t talk about it. Talk about it? That’s crazy! Death looks. Freeze. Numb.

Baby, I’m sorry for the flowers
All the times you wrote my name
It’s just a battle all the same

Baby, I’m sorry for the showers
That I never could let go
I know you saw me at the show

It’s just a battle all the same
It started when I read your name
But my bets that you love me, anyway

Baby, I’m sorry for the shadows
The never ending song of sadness
It’s just a crows call full of madness

But my bets that you love me, anyway

It’s been a life long misery
I should have hung on to the story
But I know that you love me, anyway

I don’t get it!!! I am just incapable. That’s right! What is the deal?!

Its 12 steps after 12 steps, amends after amends, therapy, accountability, and on and on.

I camped last night. Today fixed my bike at the bike church. I was really angry about my wheel because I had asked a bike shop to fix it, and they acted like I didn’t know what I was talking about. The bike church was great. Before I left, I helped a younger woman align her shifter. Most people don’t understand shifters. But they’re really quite simple. Everyone gets stuck on the limits. The limits have nothing to do with it. All that matters is the indexer is centered over the gear. That’s lit. The limits help, but nothing will work until the indexer is centered over the gear, and no amount of limit setting will fix that.

So I rode off, in a rush to meet a person from my real estate area, to give her family a gift that was donated by other people in the area. I forgot to clean my brakes that were covered in oil. I don’t really want to talk about what happened. I threw in an epic wheelie over a bridge, and slowly went all the way back because I had no brakes. My foot went down, and got caught on something, and twisted my knee to stop me at 15 mph.

This is my life. Why can’t I center? What doesn’t my indexer work? Can someone please tell me the solution?!

It’s like I’m constantly being sucked into everyone else’s little moment. While I’m trying to float through this massive plan. Gift exchange. Christmas. Riding. Racing. Camping. Everyone stops me everywhere I go, they need something. I can’t figure this out.

How do I surrender? And how have I not surrendered? Is it Stacey? It just won’t work? I have to let go? What is it?!

I wish I could write you a letter.

I picked up my downhill backpack, hung a bunch of shit off the back of it, and went camping. Strolling by the promenade on my last leg was beautiful. Like you.

I made macaroni and cheese, cooked to perfection. You know it’s oregection when the sauce summers down right to the perfect consistency as you slowly turn the flame down, minute by minute, to nothing.

I really do love you and I am sorry I couldn’t love you before.

Sincerely,

Kyle

I need help. I don’t get it. Why has all of this happened, and why can’t I change. I am addicted to being crazy and excitement.

I drove out to a listing. It was supposed to be normal and fun. It’s down a dirt road. So of course I turned it into an off road race.

At open houses, I have started singing loudly to myself.

I feel this was unprofessional and I am ashamed.

I am generally desperate. De-sparate. Not romantically, but in a general sense. Constantly feeling diminished.

I got a cavity four years ago. I finally had it filled after it finally dig into my enamel. Or whatever part of the tooth that isn’t good. At the dentist, he was looking at my teeth reminding me that I grind my teeth at night. And two have small cracks. It was absolute defeat.

The cavity and cracks may be from years ago. I can’t remember. That’s whats frustrating as well. I used to keep track of all of this. But I’m so afraid after selling my wonderful abode, giving up sailing, being in a new career, and having been fired so many times. It is my fault and I am afraid I can’t change.

I’m drinking too much coffee. I don’t want to write in my blog anymore. I hate Stacey for assuming I am stalking her. I am not stalking Stacey.

I wanted to die at the dentist. I brush twice a day, floss daily, and at night I do a double brush sandwich with floss.

And I have no peace. I might fake it. But cracks in my teeth from grinding at night don’t lie.

I don’t want to take medication. I want someone to support me. Why is this? I feel I need a woman to help me. Stacey won’t do it. But I would feel horrible finding someone else. A friend? I can’t admit that I am defeated. Utterly. How was I so deceived? How do I get out of this, desperation, self righteousness, self deception, craze?

My entire program hinges on convincing myself that I am better or have something better than others. It’s onviosuly unsustainable.

I don’t love others. I hate people. This is why my teeth are cracked. It leaves me weak, and the spiritually or emotionally defeat me, and I gnash my teeth.

Does your bags zipper have a habit of hanging out at the wrong time?

It wasn’t easy, but I did it. I asked an astronomer physicist, is the reason we think the universe is expanding because of a red shift from the outer quasars? I mean if you say it correctly, it sounds like a ton of garbage to me. Not that the universe isn’t huge or not expanding, it’s just I don’t trust our understanding of it. We assume our understanding of physical nature is correct, and that it applies to things billions of times larger than us. That’s a little naive. But typical.

But the proof was in his responses. Yes, it is based on the red shirt. And it all makes sense. Because if you look at enough stars, you can see, that due to the red shift and the speed of light, it looks like we are in the center of the universe, which correlates with our understanding of the red shift.

Ok. So, all your telling me, is what I already know. I’m the center of the universe, and every theory I come up with will prove the same, becasue that’s my frame of reference. Everything will be relative to that.

Einstein was right. Again.

It’s all circular logic based on your frame of reference. Einstein couldn’t put right say it, because they would kill him. So he put it in their language.

If your frame of reference is that you are the center of the universe, then that’s what you will find, and everything will prove it to you. It also works in a social sense. If you think Kyle is stalking you, then everything will prove it, and even he will start fulfilling your dream. Or if you think Stacey loves you and adores you, maybe someday she will.

I can honestly say I’ve never felt so fond of a warehouse.

Quarantine your cleats?!