Whisper to me

Whisper is a new social media web application that allows you to write out your secrets anonymously. 

 

I have visited the website and Android application a few hundred times since Christmas. You might better categorize my obsession with the app by understanding that I have spent a few hundred hours on it.  I have developed numerous friendships. Most of the friendships do not last more than a few moments.  But those experiences have taught me something that I never learned in my Social Psychology classes.  Nor in all my time of reading Philosophy, Ethics or Morality.

I have learned about connection.  I have learned of my need for connectivity.  I have discovered that I can connect with any human at anytime even when that connection lasts only for seconds or moments and I have discovered that the connection can have consequence.  It can have lasting impact on me and my faith and my humanity and it can teach me that I no longer need to worry about run on sentences or my use of commas because the common man and the common women does not need commas and the common folk have theyre own way of talking and WH0 ARE WE TO JUDGE>???

 

 and in your case it's not even what's on the outside

I feel like because I am good 

looking people stop caring 

who I am on the inside.

 they just want the 

  outside.

(reply:)

You're cute.  Not the kinda hot that I'd skip wanting you to have a personality.

I don't know those folk, nor do you.  These are not the folk that sit around posting cat pictures and debating the merits of TOS and Deep SPace 9 ( a terrible series that never included cats to my knowledge.)

I learned other things these past days.

I learned my roommate doesn't feel the need to discuss his failure to make rent.  But he can smoke pot, and have sex with a woman and all I will do is post 7 second snap-chats to anonymous strangers I find on Whisper jerking off to frothy vaginas that synchronously show up in my Inbox.

There.  I said it.  A woman's vagina is a box.

Trapping me here in this space and time.  Squeezing the lumps in my nuts, like the growing tumor pressed against my thigh, or gushing over me like the squishy knee that props me up limp like, my exposed gut creeping forward and hanging on the conveyor belt of grocery store life that I call exisitence.

What I learned from Whispers you cannot unlearn There is a new level of social organization.

Do not visit the Whispers if you cannot handle this new level of intimacy/privacy/anonymity/fame

There is nothing to see there.

Move along.

The good, bad, and the ugly

Like most people I have my good and bad days. More often bad than good, but that's probably because of my temperament, or my disposition,  depression, bi-polarism, the fluctuating mania, anddrug use along with the general wear and tear that 50 years of life can put on a man. After a while it adds up on you, and sometimes I let it get me down. Not that my life is truly all that "bad." It's not like I'm a refuge in Ukraine.

So you see things really aren't that bad. I guess they are just bad in the 'modern sense'.   

But I can't help what year I was born in.  I can't help the fact that I ain't got to invade Normandy and face real Nazis shooting at me with guns who need a real ass-kicking.  Instead I get khaki clad and Tiki torch carrying mother fuckers who just shopped at Target©, or a step- dad being a jerk to me on Thanksgiving about Obama's birth certificate and the Republican party slowly destroying our democracy. 

I can't help the fact that the science people already solved most of the problems that people have faced in the past, but the technocrats and capitalist elites won't let them do anything about it.

I can't help that the wealth this country produced is going to be left to a bunch entitled kids who think this world was created by magic. They like to complain about the drudgery of work and low pay, but you'd never see them organize a Union. 

So like you I focus on myself.  Maybe to the detriment of our species, or maybe just to the detriment of the rest of the pre-homeless population.  But it is what it is.  And their ain't no sense in complaining to me about what I really should be doing with my life. 

Frankly, I ain't gonna listen to you.  If I was, I surely would have listened by now. Instead I am just spend my time thinking a lot about Bath Salts.  About how maybe they ain't as bad for ya as people tell you they are.

Also, I Got an app on my phone where I listen to all these podcasts and news reports.  They go on for hours and keep me informed about stuff I really need to know about.  Like the virus, reports on Feminism, red pill conspiracies and such.

But I'm always doing a lot of stuff like that. Drinking, gambling.  Anything to keep my mind occupied and growing.  I'm learning new stuff constantly.  I am on the Internet and YouTube everyday.   I check out sites that inform me about all kinds of things.  Though I won't bother believing anything that I can't find on Reddit.com or in some antiquated secondary literature on social theory. 

That's because I'm done reading. Maybe if I could get my leg to stop shaking, I'd sit down and read the old fashioned way.  One book, one idea at a time.  No hyper threads linking me to conspiracy theories.  No engaging in the frenetic masturbation of the schizoid. 

But like I said, that shit's old fashioned. Kindle, internet, twitter, TikTok, I get my information the way the new generation does.  My WHOLE brain is connected via the Internet! Faster.  I see connections everywhere.

Connections are not like Karma though. Karma's a bunch of horse shit.  I see real solid connections based on informed guestimations. Old people don't get it.  But I'm not like most old people.  Shit, put a hat on me and I could pass for 27.  Give me some E.  My face goes all soft.  I look early teens.  My facial transformations scare the Bejesus out of the teenagers I rave with.

They started calling me RAVE. Like in all capital letters.  Pretty cool nickname if I say so myself.  And you can't give yourself nicknames, otherwise we'd all call ourselves Max.

Sobriquet.  That's a fancy name for nickname.  Bet you didn't think I new that.  Well, I watch TV shows like NEWSROOM so you know that I am practically a pseudo-intellectual.  I watched it on the YOUTUBE.  Sometimes HBO airs previews of their TV shows on YOUTUBE for free.  Bet you didn't know that!  But I did. That's because I am two steps ahead of you! You old fucking dinosaur!!!  Hahaha rarrr

But I love that about you. How you're always behind. I love that I get to teach you stuff.  In fact I love you and part of me is secretly thinking about fucking you right now,,,ya...RIGHT NOW.

Don't get soft or wet just yet.  I'm probably not going to make my move anytime soon.  But it could happen.  If you get lucky.  Just think about it.  Think about me having my way with you.

WAIT A MINUTE

I think we got off track.  I am trying to explain today's universe to you.  Then we got all crazy.  HAHAH  Sorry, man.  But don't fret.  We got plenty of time.  So long as the circulation goes back to my feet. So long as the hair grows back on my legs.  So long as I stop drinking soda. Then we could have a few good years.  I think I got ten maybe 12 years left in me before I kick the bucket.  Before my kidneys shut down.  Before my job gets canned.  Before the robots take over. Before the Amazon has everybody doing slave labor.

I'm glad I'll be dead before all that. When America is no longer #1.  When all we can do is get out kicks from watching hand ball or water polo tournaments.

"OH YEAH!!! WELL OUR WATER POLO TEAM FINISHED IN 17TH PLACE IN THE WORLD CUP FINAL, SO TAKE THAT URGUAY!"

Naah.  That shit is for you younger generations, instead me an your Mom is just gonna play finger-pony in my ass while this fucking bath salt mania keeps me unnaturally high.

You Gen Z's can handle sucking.  You can handle coming in second.  My generation, well...we didn't handle that shit too well.  That's why we slack. I mean sure we wrote Heather's and Clerk's. Two damn good movies.  But after that, it was like eating PEZ candy, after the nostalgia runs out you realize you've just been eating shit candy and go hunting for something like a Magnum Caramel Ice Cream Bar.  Wayyyyy too fucking extravagant, but fuck it as the food stamps are paying for that shit.   And fuck the looks the guy driving the Mercedes gives you when you go to pay and have to count out your rolled coins, the three gift cards with the store credit you got for returning that spoiled meat you forgot you left on the counter to pay for your shit.

Fuck that dude.  Find his car later, and let the air out of it.  You'd have stabbed that tire a few years ago, but have you seen the mountains of tires located on urban centers that get set on fire each summer? Sending mad caps of black smoke into the air.  That shits for real, y'all.

Sorry for making this so long, I was going to keep this shit tight.

You know real short and all, but then I had today's poop watch and it was clay colored, which is a heck of a lot better than yesterday's green poop, you know what I am saying?  So things were on a spiral up.  My digestive track was getting better, so I thought I'd bring the energy. That is until about two minutes ago when I let loose with some juicy, green, almost chunky diarrhea.  Shit burned my ass chaps.  

So now I am thinking... that shit mostly don't change, if you know what I mean.

Back in the land of the living

I think I finally learned my lesson about getting sick and doing nothing about it.  Like a commenter who said he was "glad I finally started fighting the entropy" I am glad I am finally taking action.

I scheduled a couple of new appointments with my doctor.  I have a physical with my primary coming in June.  (It takes that long to see my primary.)  I was a little disappointed in that. I'm not sure what the point of having a great doctor (so I have been told) if I never get to see him.

I put in another appointment to talk to the PA about my anxiety and panic attacks.  I wanted to talk to the doctor before my next therapy session.  That session is on the 9th.

I still have recurring diarrhea.  I am still taking the Flagly for that.  I am sure I am getting an increase in panic attacks from it.  However I stopped taking the percocets.  I was worried that they could increase the likelihood of seizures.  The antibiotics I am on can do that as well.

The auras around my panic/seizure/anxiety has changed again.  I am still coughing and that starts them, but sometimes I get white floating dots in my vision and then I get even stronger waves of stereotypic reactions, etc.

I should mention that I went back to the ER again on Sunday night.  YeS, AGAIN.

And the ER lady PA was not happy with me.  She was quite dismissive of my concerns.  I was still having the recurring diarrhea and I thought I saw red streak.  The red streak turned out to be nothing but a skin irritation which (she did not say) may have been caused by some mild dehydration.  I am trying to drink more Gatorade, but I am finally getting sick of it.  I think I have Gatorade fatigue.

It was pretty humiliating to sit there and be scorned by a health care professional  for wasting her time.  It was one of the most embarrassing moments of my life.  My panic attacks have taken me to the place where I have become a nuisance to people.

Of course I think the doctor was pretty insensitive.  Instead of taking 5 minutes to discuss with me her concerns over my wasting her time she just rebuffed my questions.

How about tell me why I was wrong, show some clinical concern about why I am doing this...

Either that or hide your contempt a little better, because you chose not to address the fact that you think I am malingering, or an idiot.  Man up and tell me to go to my primary for most of my concerns and stop using ER services.

Not that she should care.  She still got paid.  My insurance company should be the pissed off people in this scenario, not the person benefiting from easy diagnoses and fat paychecks.  And secondly, it was a slow night. I got in to the doctor in under 2 minutes.  There was no one in line.  And the ER was basically dead. So fuck I probably gave you something to do for the first time in an hour.

I could tell she felt a little bad about her behavior because after she left to go through my chart again she explained that none of the tests she could run would alter the course of treatment I was on and she did so with a softer voice and more professional demeanor.

Now that that's over I am still taking the Flagly.  I am getting sharp nerve damage pains every once in a while.  Mostly I am not bothered by it.  The weakness in my lower extremities is better than when I was on cipro, but is still there in my right arm.  I am having a  difficulty in sleeping and I am sluggish and tired.

I went back to work yesterday.

I was hurting in the belly area from all the stretching and standing  think.  I was also really tired around the time to go home.  I am still not eating solid food.  I did have crackers and spaggettios when I got home.   I am drinking Gatorade and meal replacements.  My weight is down to 203 from 220 over the course of the last 15 days.  I guess that part is good.  People have noticed the new slimmer me, it's encouraging me to start a healthy diet when I recover from all this shit.

After I recover from all this I will be close enough to my weight goal that I will be getting bitches left and right.  I can stop blogging about anxiety and doctor visits and start blogging about all the tits that I am sucking on.