I don’t know the fuck.

I am trying to “be myself” and not doing a good job. I am being a BAD PERSON instead.

How qually.

Or qualifactor.

What else would you say, though?

I don’t really know the vice of merit.

What is it?

What is any of this.

I hate Jewish people.

Ugh.

…

So many Americans have such bad taste.

…

Writers write good things, but they themselves are unpleasant to interact with.

I know this from previously running a literary magazine.

…

I don’t know hoe heit je.

Or whatever.

…

hi, lo, down, south.

What else could it be?

I’m so tired. No satisfaction on these fucking pills.

Pharma in america is fucked.

I don’t know what else to say.

My parents are problematic. I don’t know what I’m doing wrong that they turn into such monsters all the time.

And they’re always injured, or in pain, or yelling.

What fucks.

Hey there slimy neighbor in the area, have you considered committing suicide yet?

Now the cops will arrest me for violating freedom of speech restrictions.

I don’t need a lawyer though.

I just need a good prison sentence.

For the neighbor in the neighborhood yelling at the top of their lungs like a psycho.

Well.

If politics, !politics.

That means no more yelling.

Oops.

…

That wasn’t enough, as well.

Fuckers want to fuck me.

Hallucinations, noisy neighborhood, and shitty everything seem to play well together. They are a competitive trio, and fuck me over very effectively.

Werry gut.

…

Or whatever.

I don’t know.

What the fuck.

Shitty memories of people I used to know.

I’ve never really liked anyone.

Ever.

…

School separated my brothers and I, and now it’s work.

And we’re all poor.

We’re all poor.

Oops.

…

What fuck. Shit fuck ass nigger thizz bitch.

Fuck you.

What else would you like? Some rum-cake?

…

I do’t know the apocalypse, but it would divide.

So in sum.

Well, the neighbors somewhere nearby are gaslighting me. I don’t know who talks that much, but apparently it can be done. In theory it is possible, as well. Audiobooks exist, for example. And twitch streamers (who are the scum of the Earth).

I’m diagnosed w/schizoaffective disorder, though, so I have no legal recourse against noise pollution or violations of privacy. Particularly when there’s a Christian church in the area.

I donate monthly to the American Atheists Association.

Now it smells like pot.

I can’t wait for the eviction pandemic in Cali. It’s going to be so good.

I’m not sure. It’s strange. You do things… some of it’s waste.

Why is anything we do waste? Why isn’t everything 100% efficient?

I don’t get it.

I’m tired and I woke up early today.

Like, 8:30 AM on a weekday is “early” for me.

I’m sorry for everything.

Anyway.

What do you think? I wouldn’t know.

I don’t really have anything in my brain anymore. This risperidone is good, the olanzapine is what it is (hopefully we can reduce it), && the fluoxetine seems unnecessary. So.

My brain is kind of boggling over the concept of wasted effort right now.

Is it bad? To have experiences that lead nowhere? I’m sure many people do.

Maybe it’s bad to BE efficient. Like the Nazis in WWII. I dunno.

Then of course there’s the warstuffs–Los Angeles/Mexico and deportations; Ukraine/Russsia; all the usual geopolitics that I only have a clue about, and that mostly never really seem to affect me in any way.

California is a pretty mellow place. It’s funny how there can be war somewhere on Earth, and here, it’s just… do your own whatever. Live with your parents, write web apps, post something on yr blog. I dunno.

This febreeze plugin thing I got for $20 is vile. The modern product market is abhorrent. Online shopping is going to make me a homeless man.

Well anyway. Hope it’s good on your side.

I guess on red-blue-black alarmas, the things do not get done enough.

California’s healthcare system is not that good.

I don’t see what the problem w/greed is.

I wish I could be reminded that I have a mental illness more often. That seems to be my #1 issue.

So I’ll work on it.

Thanks for reading.

I’m not sure what to say. It’s strange. Sort of… hello-jelly-octopus but, in an animalistic way?

I’m not sure what that means, though.

I’m sorry to all the people I’ve hurt.

And to myself, for wasting so much of my time.

Psychiatry is a shit-show. The incentives to get you on more pills than you need ARE there, and it HAS fuck’d me ova.

Ova.

As in, one ovum.

Or more than one ovum?

…

I don’t know.

Sorry.

I’m tired of this trash.

The internet is garbage.

Oh also fuck you.

What else is new.

I wouldn’t know.

So where do I begin?

Well yeah the wars, those are always-on features.

And they’re not features, they’re liabilities.

So that’s nice and profitable.

…

I like when the legal system threatens me instead of google for freedom of speech restriction violations.

But they’re allowed to threaten me.

And I’m not allowed to leave a bad review.

For a lazy lawyer.

…

Fuck shit ass nigger thizz bitch.

Fuck you die.

Fuck shit ass nigger thizz bitch.

…

I don’t know what else to say. Sorry.

I guess that’s the end of the blog post for tonight.

It was sort of a HORRIFYING DAY as usual.

Good luck!

~