Michael Kindt's Blog, page 70
February 17, 2016
This is who I would nominate for the Supreme Court.
This is who I would nominate for the Supreme Court.
Since there is no such thing as "mental health"--that can be defined by anyone anywhere in even remotely the same way, there is no such thing as mental illness. There is only a spectrum of behaviors that are judged by society.
Once, society judged that marriage between different races was wrong. It then evolved and realized IT was wrong, rather than the marriages. The same process is underway for homosexual marriages.
There are people who are obviously mentally ill, but no one, anywhere, who is obviously mentally healthy.
It’s a social construct. Both are.
It’s also a personal construct: “I have determined that I am mentally ill. Please alleviate me of much of my accountability and give me drugs.”
Psychology, as a business, says “OK!”
ka-CHING!
No one knows. It’s like the argument between atheists and theists: absolutely fucking pointless.
Don't tell anyone, but I'm kind of drunk.
Steve’s sister came tthrough. I now have a can of chaw and a 350 of vodka under my pillow. Only, I don’t like drinking vodka by itself. Good thing we have a snack fridge with delightful little cartons of OJ in them. There is a sign on its door that says BE REASONABLE.
Haha. I’ll give it a shot.
Have been palming or tongue-ing my meds to ditch them. I’d rather be mentally ill than drugged.
My dogs came and visted me. It was nice. We went out into the woods and over by the stream. Warm today, almost 60.
I’m going to leave, I decided. Soon.
I miss my dogs too much and I can’t fucking take it anymore.
I get to see them every Wednesday. Visitation happens on Wednesday, 3 to 5 (or 6, kinda, it ain't set in stone).
My dogs, I mean. I have: a geriatric minpin and a young (3-4 years), disturbingly intelligent Pomeranian/Jack Russell terrier mix.
We go for a walk in the woods. Duke, the geriatric minpin on a leash, but not Daisy. She runs around like only a small dog can: like a fucking meth addict. She listens, tho. She might dart away to the U.P. of Michigan, but if you call her, she’ll dart right back.
Duke is old. He’s clumsy. He gets lost, even 5 feet from my yard. Thus the leash. Duke is a special needs dog. For one thing, he can’t hold it for much more than a few minutes. If he gets antsy, he has to go. Take him outside. He has cataracts, and also, just like me, a heart murmur. This past year I got all his teeth fixed so he wouldn’t be in pain anymore (they were rotten as shit). Cost me $1,300. Well worth it.
I am doing, essentially, end of life care for Duke, a job I feel I am bailing on, doing this stupid mental hospital crap.
I miss sleeping with him. He always puts his butt in my face.
February 13, 2016
So Steve said he could get a bottle of vodka in here, and my dick immediately got hard.
Security ain’t jack here, but it never occurred to me to smuggle. I am, after all, a naive small town mountain boy.
Our walletsand purses and cash and cards are kept behind a desk, but upon insistence, they will give them to you. I had $80 in cash when I came in here.
Steve is all, “How much do you want?”
“80 bucks worth.”
He laughs. “Be serious.”
“I am. Dead.”
He laughs again. “Look, the most she can get has to fit in her purse. She has a reasonable sized purse. A 350?”
“Oh, my god. Yes.”
I’m going to suck it down like a baby sucking on a tit. Finally, a REAL drug that will ACTUALLY solve a problem…..
Can’t wait. Talk to me Wednesday.
Venezuela Declares New Emergency: It Has Run Out of Food
Something happened on the way to Socialist Utopia….A lesson in having a diversified economy. Nowadays, all oil-only economies are hurting, even Saudi Arabia. If you’re gonna be Socialist, do so in a diversified economy. That way when you steal from the rich to give to the poor, you will not only discourage both from trying too hard, you will have variety. In a one note economy, when you steal from the rich to give to the poor, you better hope to heaven the rich stay rich. If they don’t, who you gonna steal from? Thus, Venezuela.
“20 years of schoolin’ and they put you on the day shift.”Bob...
“20 years of schoolin’ and they put you on the day shift.”
Bob Dylan -
Subterranean Homesick Blues
Girl by the whirlpool is looking for a new fool
Steve, I think, is Native. Or Hispanic. He’s dark like me. My skin ain’t dark, but my hair, my eyes, my attitude, writing, humor, etc., all is.
Steve has a full mustache, tho, which doesn’t say Native. He’s the only one around here which does chaw. Everybody and their dog smokes, but Steve has chaw. We go out and stand under the dead tree and chaw and spit like cowboys or baseball players.
He is a baker by trade, and I can chaw and spit and listen to him forever as he goes on and on about yeast and leavening and how baking in a moist environment is a good thing, as far as chewy and/or crunchy crust goes. I, myself, am a home baker.
He hasn’t offered his particular brand of crazy and I haven’t offered mine and neither of us ask. That would be rude.
But he has chaw and a sense of humor and a brain. His sister, in fact, hooks him up with Copenhagen, and when she comes next week he’s gonna tell her to bring an extra can for me.
What a guy.
Today, as we were standing under the dead tree spitting and cursing, he asked me who my favorite poet was. I told him Dylan Thomas or Bob Dylan, and he said “Girl by the whirlpool is looking for a new fool.”
I grinned at him, my teeth brown and slimy from the chaw. He grinned back, equally as ugly.
