Brain Asylum

With age the stakes can become higher or at least feel that way. There’s often higher sums of money involved, time becomes more valuable and the potential of tremendous regret is one epiphany away. In desperate situations the mind often seeks comfort in any crazy way it can attain it.

Tell yourself that it will be blue skies ahead and those high hopes can leave you hanging from the neck. Was the blue sky you envisioned the one above you that everyone else could see or just a piece you painted that no one else was buying?  It’s easier to just continue to sail in the direction of the momentum even if the forecast calls for a 20 year storm.

When one cannot handle reality they often turn to religion, substances or insanity. The very latter is often the weapon of choice — it’s free and runs autonomously. Refusal of truth feeds the insanity. The mental madhouse of cards uses a weak mind to remain strong.

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71 Year Olds

At the nearby park I saw an old guy walking around with his metal detector. He said he finds a few hundred dollars a year and his best year was about $1000. I forget how he segued into talking about his lady friend who is a pyschic and can read minds. Apparently she can also call on the spirits. My question to him was if he believed in her powers.

“Well, some of it seems far-fetched but I know she can read minds because she’s read mine before.”

I wouldn’t have discounted the possibility of her mind reading powers as much if he didn’t tell me the story of how she’s been divorced 3 times. Maybe those men had magnetic shields that blocked her powers.

At the supermarket I was eating my chicken pot pie when an old Asian guy sat by me. He said, “hi” and I asked him if he was on lunch. He wasn’t and said he works graveyards as a janitor. It’s very uncommon to be a 71-year-old Asian born in Canada and even more uncommon to have your even older Asian dad to also be born in Canada. “Your dad must have some stories,” I said. “Yep.”

He basically gave me his life story in the hour that we spoke. He said he’s still working because he’s a typical Western baby boomer who likes to live beyond his means. He also said working is one of his “interests.” I wanted to tell him to f-off. What 71-year-old likes working as a janitor on a graveyard shift? Who knows, maybe he does prefer it. Maybe it’s his way of getting away from his wife — work when she’s sleeping and sleep when she’s awake. He told me I should get a job. I wanted to tell him to f-off again.

“Don’t your folks and friends give you a hard time for not having a job?” he asked.

I don’t even remember what I replied. Surely, it was something cheeky.

He followed with, “yep, when your friends are married they all want you to get married. When they’re having kids they want you to have kids. And down the road if they regret it, it’s too late. They think about divorcing but then they’re reminded of having to divide assets.”

When I was in high school everyone wanted you to wear baggy jeans. After high school there was peer pressure to go to night clubs. When some were spending too much money modifying their cars it influenced everyone else to do the same. This list is endless. It was clearly a total waste of money, time and energy. There are no positive residuals from the foolishness of the past. People laugh and agree but don’t realize that nothing has changed. It just seems real when you’re under the influence. Many lives are a continuous series of acts to merely conform.

I indirectly told him that I thought Canadian baby boomers are assholes because they had it so easy in comparison. He didn’t disagree. They were born right after World War II, lived comfortably working menial jobs and now collect their undeserved pensions which are partly funded by the younger generation. They should be volunteering to help my generation do housework and babysit.

It was an enjoyable conversation. We shared some laughs and agreed on quite a bit. I hope to run in to him in the future.

Employment Opportunities

A person I know sent me a message today with a job offer.

“Do you want to pack weed for $18 an hour?”

I’m not sure what packing weed entails but I think it’s packaging consumer amounts for illegal online sales. Some people have been making a ton of money blatantly selling marijuana online and in storefronts. It’s 100% illegal but the story is the city does not have enough resources to deal with it. Although marijuana is legal now the black market is still a large supplier for consumers.

Packing weed is probably an easy job but for $18 an hour there’s no risk premium and I’m doubtful a dental plan is included. I can get paid that much moving boxes at some warehouse without having to worry about the law or getting robbed. If it was $50 an hour I’d have to consider it. Everyone has a price.

There’s a labour shortage of skilled workers as well as low wage positions that are located in areas not easily accessible by public transit. Being a plumber pays well and is important but you have to be a plumber 5 days of the week. Easy jobs are plentiful but pay you dog shit in an expensive city. No one wants a tough commute to a low paying job. Many restaurants have had to shorten their opening hours or even close altogether because of lack of workers.

Even the 8-year-old kid in my neighbourhood quit his paper route because they cut his pay by half. Most of this city haven’t been getting their shopping flyers for the last 12 months.

If you don’t want depressing pay then you have to be somewhat valuable to society. Scarcity equals value.

 

Life Lessons From the Internet

A 77-year-old man on Quora wrote that he is very wealthy, married 2 beautiful women, has 2 great sons, retired at 49, lived a full life but none of it mattered. Us common folk will come across such wisdom and rejoice at the idea that winners are still losers. He goes on to say that he wished he spent his life learning piano, painting, sculpting, reading, owning more dogs instead of, “chasing someone else’s dream.”

A common theme in many of his other answers is that “you’re going to die.” He disparages what many wrestle with in life such as passions, purpose, money and our feelings. Often, the ego owns your life until there’s not much life left. It kicks you to the curb and spits on you while you come to realize the universe was just using you.

Something else he mentions on a few occasions is that he wished he realized that, “you have to want what you have before you get what you want.” It’s like a life hack because if you let the mind run its natural course it will always want more which will always leave you dissatisfied. I’m not sure if I know how to do it though. I’d imagine I’d have to block out or deflect many of my thoughts. Shut up brain or I’ll stab you with a Q-tip.

It’s true though, winner or loser, you’re going to die and quickly be forgotten. Your perceived accomplishments were probably no more impressive than that of any 4 legged mammal or 6 legged insect. Some ants can carry 1000 times its own weight. I believe the lesson isn’t to do nothing but maybe not pick such a painful route that is going to get you to the same destination anyway.

Not the Dog

Aside from the few off-leash dog spots around the city, the law is that your dog must be leashed at all times. At the school by my home I often let my dog run around off-leash because dogs like to run and I figure most people won’t have an issue with my 7 pound dog. It was an issue earlier today.

A woman freaked out when my dog ran towards her. When my dog came closer she started jumping like someone threw firecrackers at her feet which got my dog barking and excited. While I was running in circles, apologizing and trying to catch my dog she kept repeating, “you must leash your dog, you must leash your dog.” Then her husband started yelling at me from 20 feet away so my dog ran towards him and started barking.

“Leash your fucking dog now!” he yells and keeps repeating while I’m trying to catch my dog who is bouncing around barking at this guy. I’m not liking this guy yelling at me as if I’m his slave but I’m feeling bad about this incident so I accept it. My dog might be 7 pounds and harmless but it’s supposed to be leashed.

Maybe fuckface was trying to be a man in front of his wife but it was excessive. And then, he said, “I’m going to kick your dog.” Switch turns on. As I’m trying to catch my dog I tell him that there will be no kicking of dog. He’s still in his fit of rage. At that moment I’m bracing myself for my dog to be kicked and have decided that if that happens I’m going after this guy on the playground with all the kids watching.

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All of this is happening in a shorter amount of time then it sounds. It was like 5 to 10 seconds with each of them. I leash my dog and just walk away. I’m on the other side of the grass field from them now but I see them walking around the track. I could have left but I wanted to see how this would play out. As they came closer he said that he was “sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” I questioned. “Sorry for shouting at you,” he says.

“You threatened to kick my dog.”

He says, “no I didn’t.”

Typical human behaviour. Sometimes you just don’t know if people are lying or compartmentalizing. By the looks of it he feels that his apology for “shouting” should be sufficient. I apologize again and acknowledge that the dog was supposed to be on the leash but I’m being confrontational at this point and I don’t care what the outcome is. He admits to threatening to kick my dog. It’s possible that he was denying that he did because his 2 young kids showed up and didn’t want them to think that daddy’s a piece of shit. “My daddy kicks small dogs.”

He goes on to say that, “we are good people” and that his “daughter loves dogs.” The latter statement sounded like the equivalent of a white person telling people they have a black friend. I halfheartedly accepted his shitty apology and went home. Not long after I started thinking how it may have been because of religious beliefs that had them frantic about the dog.

My plan was to eat a salad for dinner and practice piano. The salad was not enjoyable and piano didn’t happen. Maybe I need to get her a muzzle.

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What happened?

 

 

 

 

 

Don’t Try This At Home

I just watched a YouTube video of Stevie Nicks talking about all the cocaine she used to snort. It triggered me to go into my drawer of drugs and crush some MDMA. I hate snorting it but if I take it orally I have to wait to get high and the effects are longer. Plus the next day is a drag.

Once I snorted it I remembered why I hardly ever do it. IT HURTS. Also, I have this worry in the back of my head that one day I’ll have a hole up in my nose. The other option is to call someone to deliver some cocaine to me which I’ve never done because I believe once I pay for it I’m crossing a line.

The other day I sat with my friend in his automobile who delivers party drugs to people. Man, you would have no idea who is snorting cocaine and who is not just by looking at them.

“That guy has a wife and kids?”

To give you an idea what kind of drug user I am, the MDMA I just took was from a small batch my friend gave me in 2013. So ya, I’m quite controlled.

Blogging has taken a backseat to, ummm, nothing really. It’s not that I’m too busy. I haven’t figured out why I haven’t been writing. I want to I just don’t feel the strong desire to pound out my thoughts. I think money has made me soft.

All I think about is the stock market which might be a good thing. Finally, there’s something I’m deeply interested in that can generate lots of money. More than a few years ago I unknowingly started on a path that was training me to be proficient in investing in stocks. I became obsessed with the truth, critical thinking and being rational My emotions are no longer in the driver’s seat of my actions. Making money in the stock market is simple but not easy. I have a fitting temperament for it.

Tomorrow is a holiday. In my past life as a miserable working stiff I used to worship these days. Vacations were God and statutory holidays were the son of God. Now I hate holidays and weekends because it means the markets are closed — a complete 180.

When you’re a kid you would never think you could grow up to be someone who fears having a hole up their nose.

 

Hooky Friend

The other day I was walking by the lottery ticket booth at the supermarket when someone caught my eye. I did a double take at who I thought to be an old high school friend. I’m mostly certain it was him. We locked eyes at one point and as he looked away I got the sense that he felt ashamed.

To keep some degree of confidentiality we’ll call this old friend, Fuckface, or maybe we’ll just call him Dave. We met when we were 13 years old the same way many losers meet. Our commonality was skipping school. Sooner or later you’re going to end up meeting other hooky players.

Dave was kind of messed in the head. One day he would be more than glad to buy you a free meal and the next day he would try to start a fight with you. After high school which I doubt he completed, the rumour was that he was on heroin. It may have just been a rumour. People like to propagate a fake interesting story than a boring one.

If I had to guess he’s not presently on heroin. If I had to guess he still has at least a slight gambling problem. If I had to guess he recognized me but may have been too ashamed to talk about his life with me. Why didn’t I try to talk to him? I don’t know. It was one of those split second decisions. I was walking so I just kept walking.