Hate

These are my musings (aphorisms, if you will), listed in reverse order (newest first), so they get rawer towards the bottom. Thus, if things get boring, one might wish to skip down further... or if the entries get too repetitive (and they are highly repetitive), one may wish to drop down all the way to the Analysis at the bottom. But then, this page isn't so much about the Analysis, as it is an emotional outpouring of hate.

Honour is doing when you're mad what you do when you're glad.

This can be interpreted either in terms of the light or the dark; and as such, is a very helpful idea. I own my anger. It doesn't own me.

Robot Army: Last Man Standing. The evolution of mass destruction.

Hate is contagious. It spreads to everyone and everything.

If <My Enemy> were drowning, rather than withholding a glass of water, I'd consider using it for Water Boarding.

I hope that is clear.

Also, as I go through these items (and as part of the editing process), I am removing all specifics, all pronouns, and all personality. I have succeeded when all that is left is The Hate... of which I have long since ceased to need a justification.

As to the recent ballistic missile scare, tell me what I am carrying forth into the next generation. And then, I'll tell how little I care about any of it.

When one hates the living, it is easy to welcome Death's open embrace. Or if that's not clear, I have (at times) done the calculus, and would have traded my life for that of another... maybe. I mean, I didn't, so it is obviously a lie. But a lie I have told myself (repeatedly over the course of years), nonetheless.

More importantly, once one has devalued the one, it is very easy to devalue the many

As a <Turd> I may step on during a leisurely stroll, I just want to scrape it off and be done with it.

Yep. I think I nailed that one.

To have supreme power... I wonder, would I have mercy? Or not?

Yes, I wonder. Of course, today I am happy enough. Eh, I mean, these words bring me down. But a walk in the sun awaits. And I have every anticipation it will clear the spirit and cleanse the soul.

<Bad Stuff Happened> and I am inclined to return the favor. Perhaps one day, I'll find out what I am willing to do...

Perhaps...

Actually, in the abstract, it's far worse than the original words may have implied.

I trusted... once. I can't imagine making that mistake again.

And that, in the end, is the purpose of the hate. Never forgive! Never forget! If one does, perhaps they are a fool.

Also, please note, as originally written, these little ditties focused on the object of my hate. But I have learned that is a mistake. Instead, I am better served by focusing on the hate.

The way has been easy, because I haven't wanted to take the trouble to actively fight. Someday, that may change.

But most likely, it will not. After all, do they not say 'Living well is the best revenge'? Something I feel, I can do best without -----. However sad such a thought may make me.

And yes, love and hate are intertwined. I am not as injured by the snake that bites, as I am by the dog whom I once trusted and loved who bites me.

The cur!

<Bad Stuff Happened> and something as simple as --- seems impossibly out of reach. So, I really have no idea what benefit <Seemingly Good Stuff> would bring. Thus, I consider it all at an end.

Responses never sent to letters never received... edited beyond belief, so they conform to the final voice with which I wish these musings to ring.

The thought of tears brings a tear of joy to my eye.

Which part is unclear?

Tears... of joy.

But now, I am repeating myself.

'How much... if only asked?' has somewhere along the lines turned into 'How much pain and suffering would appease my desire?'

Ah, yes. These are the questions for which straight answers are hard to find.

How much would I have willingly given? I have no idea. But I like to think it would have been more... My, how times have changed. Now I want <So Much More> prior to exchanging civilities. And until that time, F-Off and Die... slowly.

So, I have put a dollar amount on my anger and pain. This is how little it costs to become my mortal enemy. In the end, it is a surprisingly small sum of money. I hear tell folks get killed in jail over cigarettes... or for cigarettes. Besides the obvious imperfections in the legal system such a notion implies, I now understand why. How many packs would I give for the honour. I ask myself this question surprisingly often.

At this juncture, I have no notion of the advantage in -----. I do not trust <My Anger> nor do I believe it has my best interests at heart. Thus, if I have not made my feelings in this regard clear in the past, please let me do so now.

It is these imaginary conversations (verbal exchanges that are almost certain to never occur), to which so many of these notes relate. What would I say? What would I do? At first blush, it reads very much like a desire to hurt. But rather (as is my strongly held opinion), it is very much a desire to protect my Self from any further pain.

Also, I am at my third read through (as I write this) and it is here that I decided to replace specifics (any items that I felt needed further redaction) with ----- rather than the previous <Abstractions>

Ah, I don't know if I say this anywhere else (this project having being in the works for years), but the process was as follows: write the raw notes, make the counterpoint note (such as this) below it, edit the lot with <Abstractions>; and now, I'm doing the final refinement by replacing certain ideas, words, and phrases with -----.

My emotions have waned. And the words fall fairly far from the reality of the moment, the <Abstractions> having succeeded per my intent, which (if I recall correctly) are discussed again, further below.

Tripping off into longer more explanatory letters begs the question: Why would I wish <Anything>? And failing any <Positive Answer>, of what value are social niceties?

See, it is always with the fictional conversations. Anyway, as one goes down the page, one goes backwards in time.

And also, if I have not said, <This Sort of Syntax> denotes a heavier edit and restructure of meaning in an effort to remove <Specifics of a Reality>... that no longer matter.

The anger has won. There is little <Heart & Soul> remaining. But then, there is no reason to destroy. For there is precious little I care to preserve.

Do you see that?

One has to fight for something.

I am missing that something.

Thus, there is no reason to fight.

And what I spend my time wondering now is if that situation should change, am I capable of showing restraint.

----- Voids All Markers!

All opinions expressed are just that, opinions. There is another side. I do not respect it... nor much care what it is. But I am sure it is there. For me, it is enough that I felt ----- had occurred.

Yep. The ----- syntax works like a charm.

I shall not honour a debt of honour from <Anything or Anyone> who has none.

Word!

The Title says it all, black abstract with a few other primary colors mixed in

I'm sick of barking, howling at the moon.

Ah, now this is a valuable insight. I believe that all anger should properly be self-directed. I was angry, yes. Maybe, I still am. And much of what I have written (and thought) has been so much complaining about my poor handling of events, as anything else.

Pain is there for a reason. It teaches. And so, I ask myself: Have I learned my lesson? Well?

I am at war. In my youth, I never expected to survive a war. My only option would be to die with honour. Is it odd to find solace in these thoughts.

Many have died for less.

It's time to leave the herd, behind.

To whatever extent I was a Lone Wolf before, it is even more true today.

I no longer expect <Amends>.

It is true, the anger is tied to -----. But if not -----, it would be tied to some other loss. I should count my blessings, the price I paid was so cheap. After all, it is almost a certainty -----. And thus, the loss isn't even real. It is... like the crumbs leftover after a sumptuous meal.

Also, it bears mentioning that this lack of expectation of debts being honoured is systemic. I have little need to extend Debts of Honour to any person, place, or thing. Of course, debt and honour do not go together. So perhaps, more than anything else, I have been operating under the delusion of debt, when all honour can bestow is a gift... from the self to the other.

See, the light at the end of the tunnel. I told you I was getting better.

When the zombies attack, zombie or not, here I come.

One of my first books was called Zombie Nation. And then, I found out that's the name for a big time Zombie website and the wind went out of the project. Anyhow, in Zombie Nation, our lead does not much differentiate between the living and the dead. Besides, there are those of us who are fairly free wheeling about the term Zombie, using it more as a metaphor than anything else.

I would have been happy to live my life vicariously (at least partially, anyhow), but that is no longer an option.

No, it is not!

It is impossible for a person without honour to pay a debt of honour.

I think, maybe, I repeat myself. But then, all of this resolves into creative (and/or philosophical) ways of saying, 'F-You!'

In my erroneous way of thinking, if nothing else.

A study in black, the face is denoted by scraped paint, the movement of fingers, the eyes are blotches of blue

All anger is self directed. I should have been more. So, I strive to be more.

When I get really worked up, the only thing that comes close to helping is lifting weights. I am an animal of a man (in many-many ways) compared to who I used to be.

I was ----- at the beginning. And I was ----- at the end. Thus, I was ----- from the beginning to the end.

Opinions will vary. But I can assure you, such thoughts allowed me play with ever increasing weights for ever increasing lengths of time... until such a time as the body is so tired, it will finally accept defeat... and death.

I am quite at peace with Death, these days. I do not care for what it takes to survive in this world.

Or in other words, Life is its own form of Death.

It's hard-work finding one's tribe.

Shall I bother to try?

My response to ----- is ostracism.

And if this is true, to whom do I write these words?

Also, the words above no longer reflect what I originally said, as I have cut out the other completely. After all, that is the intent of this final edit.

Now, I know how I react when -----. And if it were <Elsewise>, it would not be any different.

I am like Rainman in these things.

To get back in the game, the ante is -----.

I imagine I would forgive and forget quite quickly... with the proper inducement. But I do not believe such inducement will ever be forthcoming. Sometimes, I wonder if all of this (every drop of anger, every drop of everything) from beginning to end, was all about -----. But whenever I do, I, also, realize that such a notion would be incorrect. It is my ability to -----, which causes my mind to believe I am right. After all, in our culture (and by our legal system), if I could not -----, how exactly was I wronged? Well, I know. I was wronged... or at least, that is what my heart tells me.

And then, I will simple note, so often, Where there is smoke, there is fire.

When I think about <Such Crap>, I wonder what I have done to cause <Such Crap>; and I say to myself, 'Let <Such Crap> even the score. And then, I realize nothing will ever even the score.

I have these thoughts and I write them as notes into my iPhone. I think we are halfway through the page, going backwards in time. But we are still a long way from when I knew I would make these musings into a project. And beyond that (being this project), that anger has given me the energy to write two novels... not to mention the depth of emotion I have experienced. Let me assure you, I have never known anger such as this before... unending for weeks on end.

So much so, I count it as a success to be able to edit these words without spinning off into a frothing rage.

Another edit later and there is hardly an emotional reaction at all.

Until one has dealt with hate, real hate, one has no idea what is possible, what they are capable of.

So, let's go back to the first quote (which I will repeat for you here), Honour is doing when you're mad what you do when you're glad. Thus, dear reader, if you will allow me to give you only one bit of advice, it shall be Do not live your life by accident... or under the emotional control of another.

Eh, I stop here for the day. As in, in writing this page, I stop here.

It's only important to make note of such a fact, as it has been three months since I last worked on this project. And before that, the collection of notes spanned a good two years. So, it is a very long running project. And after all that time, I can say without a doubt I have been angrier for longer and at a deeper level about <This Crap> than anything else in my entire life.

But I wonder, was I was ready for a focus... something to hate.

Besides, it is worth mentioning that <There Occurred> an error on my part.

Such an embarrassing thing. And for a day or two, my error could have been used as a face-saving excuse for a reconciliation. But it was not. And the time has passed.

Blue Ball with Yellow Lightning Bolts, the description is much more concrete than the imagery

How could my life possibly be improved by such an association?

Answer: It could not! And as much as my heart wants this to be untrue, after years of thought, I am convinced it is an undeniable truth.

I would suffer not just the loss of honour... but also, by the association, itself.

I find myself angry, as I walk the streets: an anger that is compounded by the power mismatch of being a pedestrian (life safety) and a random fear of being apprehended by the police (also a power mismatch and a concern for my future freedom).

Note: there is no reason to fear the police; in as much, as there is no Probably Cause. But my Faith in... well, everything has been shaken to the core.

Also, after years of studying economics, I have come to the conclusion that wealth is built upon fear and violence.

Why else would one man toil for the glory of another?

The adoration is a lie.

Such unfairness hurt my feelings... some might even say, injured my pride.

After all, any relationship is a two-way street. And this street is closed for repairs.

Abstract, purple, blue, pink, green, mixed, lightly, a fair bit of paper shows, an abstract, if there is representation, one if finding it for themselves

The stress hits when I think about the <Injury>. I don't want to have to deal with <Defending My Interests>. So much has already been lost. What's a little more?

In the end, there is the real possibility of a never ending spiral. After all, at this remove, I doubt I would be the one to put on the breaks... unless, of course, I was the one in the weaker position.

Or in other words, an eye for an eye is a limiting factor that almost no one believes in... certainly, not I.

Life or Death?

Breathe in the Dark Side, My Son.

After all, the choice has become rather generalized.

There is no even.

Ah, yes. Can you see the endless spiral of Death & Destruction inherent in such a statement?

An eye for an eye?

Please.

If one loses an eye, one must take an eye to be even. But then, what was taken was an eye, when no eye was owed. So to be truly even, one must take an extra eye, one that was never owed.

Thus, in all honesty, I cannot fathom the possibility of peace. There can be no even.

But I can leave a debt unpaid.

You know you're a <Turd Ball>. I know you're a <Turd Ball>. And you know that I know you're a <Turd Ball>.

You <Turd Ball>, you.

One cannot owe a debt of honour to a person {place, or thing} without honour.

In scrutinizing the concept of honour (ever more intently), I have become (ever more) aware of the difficulties inherent in the concept. Like, I know I did wrong. I, also, know others did (or do, I'll let you work out the tense). But in the end, two wrongs do not make a right.

Meaning, in all of this (that, or the other thing), I am finding it ever harder to find honour in any thing... any time... any where.

We will not be growing old together.

No, we will not.

I was expecting other than I received. And in the difference, lies a great deal of pain.

See, now and again, I can be (most) reasonable. I mean, when I am not angry (like now), I think I am reasonable. But whenever I get too reasonable (as in, too complacent) the anger comes back to remind me that my best interests are not served by reason... or reason alone.

As in, <This> is dangerous and always will be... no matter the evidence to the contrary.

There is a lot of goodwill which will not disappear. But there is also a lot of bad will, which will never disappear.

I think that says it all. There was a lot of love. There is a lot of love. But now that love is covered by hate. And whenever the one (or the other) emotion gains the upper hand, it is not long before the contrary emotion weighs in on the matter.

In other words, I am cursed by both Love & Hate.

Eh, it reminds me of the first time I fed my stray cat. She both purred and growled at the same time. So, it's the same sort of feeling.

Minimum social decency has not been achieved.

Yeah, I am a lot (like, a lot) more polite (or at least, aspire to be) than I was before. I, also, think I would go further out of my way to honour (interesting word choice, that) a bad deal than I would before... you know, just to prove that I could... or that I would. But then, who knows what I really would do?

After all, in a World Without Honour almost anything is possible... and that is the world in which I now exist.

At this point, the cost of forgiveness is designed to price all <Turd Balls> out of the market.

It really is. There is no forgiveness. For to forgive, I would have to forget... and that would only open up my heart to pain, anew.

Interaction with <Dishonourable Fools> (by definition) comes at the price of Honour.

I am better than <Turd Balls> are.

Nah! Nah! Na-nah! Nah!

I did not get what I wanted out of <It>; and as such, I do not wish to invest in <It> any further.

See, the intent is to be emotionally neutral.

Bury yourself first.

If I have not stated this before (even though I am sure that I have), I started writing these sayings... probably going on two years ago... at least. Well, I just got done taking another six month break off the project. So, the going is hard.

Anyhow, I see this as relating to honour... being ready for death.

But I am, also, burying <Something Else>, here.

And the first step in that is burying myself, first.

In short, I do not hate life, but I cannot say that I love it anymore. I find myself more and more indifferent, as if being an unemotional observer is the best place to be, the highest ideal.

Today is a good day to die.

But bury yourself first.

Who knows what I meant at the time (as the previous interpretations comes years after the fact)?

Today (so, at least six months ago), I interpret it as a desire to have my bags packed, to have posted what I want to the Internet, and having completed my bucket list... a thing which is amazingly short, as I don't have one. Maybe I should compile one.

F-Me?

No.

F-You!

Basically, it's a justification, which I no longer believe I need. I'm OK with hate for hate's sake. See, I'm all better.

My anger is likely tied to my own weakness. I don't want to work hard.

But then (as they say), the best revenge is living well.

This rings amazingly true to me. I believe ALL anger should be self-directed. The tiger picked you out of the herd, because you acted like prey. Don't act like prey. Kill or Be Killed!

<It> is a stand-in for hate, sorrow, and pain. But <It> is no longer the cause.

Anger can be justified for an hour, a day, a week, a month, maybe even a year, but at this point, it is on me. I am angry at myself... and looking for a way out, a way not to be.

There is no way my life would be better with <The Putative Cause> sitting next to me and I know it.

<The Putative Cause> as a stand-in for <The Putative Cause> first appears here.

I knew I needed to scrub this page of any identifying information. And it seemed like <Abstract Wording> of <This Nature> might do the trick. Thus, it would be at this point in the editing (even though this page will have been edited and expanded upon countless times; and as such, this interior note, the one right here, nestled snugly between two parenthesis comes well after the surrounding text, when) the decision to replace particulars with generalities had been made: Facts (and/or Opinions) being replaced by italicized asides, such as <The Putative Cause>, <That Crap>, <The Reason>, <The Excuse>, and <The Mind Trap>.

Let's see if it sticks.

P.S. It did.

<The Mind Trap> has made clear its intent and willingness to steal from me. What else is there?

Yeah, I've held a grudge for worse. So, why not hold a grudge against my anger. Going back and removing any facts (or evidence) will diminish the record (this is true). But it's likely the only way I will get through the editing process and be able to publish this. Besides, I sort of like the watering down effect it has. After all, <The Putative Cause> is hardly a thing worthy of anger (or any other emotion), now is it?

Today is a good day to die. And if not, make it so.

This project has occupied my mind for a tiresomely long time (at this point, three years and counting... fast expanding to four). And since it has been so long since I last edited this page, you (my dear reader) will have to forgive me for revisiting the same ideas over and over again.

Besides, almost all of the posts are the same: each of them revolving around Hate, Loss, Anger, Despair, and in the end, Moving On... and Living Without.

Still, at the time (of its writing) this entry meant something to me. And I believe that something was If one removes X and one removes Y and one removes Z (as I have done), there is not much left..

And as such, I stand empty and alone.

It's very kind of <The Cause> to think of me.

Just one question, though, why is <The Cause> seeking my attention, now?

Come on! When a bridge is burnt, one has a certain expectation that the bridge stay burnt.

Also, the multiple edits (with years between) do nothing for clarity (emotional or otherwise).

I am angry. <The Mind Trap> is my target of choice. There need no more reason than this. It is a thing that simply is.

Note how I chose to refer to it all as <The Mind Trap>, as this really does push <The Problem> back onto me.

Furthermore, I have become quite the connoisseur of anger and pain. It's not something to brag about, however, as I have looked long and hard at my emotions and I can say with some degree of embarrassment that my negative emotional affect is tied directly to being hungry, sleepy, or tired... and to a lesser extent, the future threat thereof. For me (and I'll believe for you, as well), Physical Adversity leads to Emotional Negativity, almost without exception. I can harden myself (by exercise and the like). But thirst is thirst... and the animal within is more than happy to let its needs be known.

What is <The Mind Trap's> point?

This is very interesting. Rather than addressing the noun that was, I am addressing the noun that is. And replacing the one with the other is a major reason for this exercise.

And since that is (likely) not clear, let me clarify by saying there are countless associations in my mind in regards to <The Problem>. After years of review, I have revisited and reinterpreted most of them, if not all... even if the anger does seem to be renewed when it alights on a <New Angle of Attack>. But thankfully (and after all this time), those moments seem to be fewer and farther between.

Apologize and make amends or F-Off and die... or maybe just F-Off and die.

Is there a noun to replace in this sentence? How do I feel about the swearing. There is a lot of content here (entries, don't you know) and growing all the time... thankfully (in that last), I, mostly, mean these comments (and not the raw underlying anger). But then, I have another running list to copy/paste to the end of this document. So, who knows how much longer the anger will last... and the final baseline emotion that will remain after all is done?

<My Problem and I> should do lunch.

This is a joke. In truth, the anger does not hit so much when I'm eating. The rage hits between projects, on long walks, and when I used to daydream. My daydreams have been taken over by thoughts of revenge. So, it is a problem, since I have been put face to face with the realization that I don't want revenge nearly as much as I wish to move on.

A <Thing> without honour can have no effect on my honour.

It is a simple reduction of the enemy to an animal or a thing. They do it in propaganda all the time.

Seemed more friendly than 'F-Off & Die!'

'All Of You!' But quite happily, there is no rage (and very little feeling) as I write these words. The negative emotions will never fall off completely. I still remember getting into a fight in Sixth Grade. And time has done little to ease the pain in regards to that episode. But then, the pain is there to remind me. It serves a purpose. I just don't think I need reminding (about anything, but most especially <This Problem>) on a daily basis. On the other hand, maybe I do. If not for the remembrance of pain, I'm sure I would put my hand in the fire, once more.

I feel <Wronged>. And I cannot imagine a desire to <Continue On Continuing On> until such a time, as I no longer feel that way.

It's a shame. I was sort of fond of the turn of phrase I just cut out. It had a sort of formalized indifference about it. Unfortunately, it did not hit the right level of abstraction.

<Mind Stealer>! I feel that you are a lying, cheating, backstabbing, thief.

Own the emotion!

<Mind Stealer>, I have no interest in <Normalized Relations> until accounts have been settled...

And <This> becomes useful to me, once again.

This well has gone dry.

Maybe it has. I hope that it has.

I'm sick of getting burned at every exchange.

Take that <Mind Stealer>!

I believe that I have been <Wronged>. And until <My Problem> makes amends, <My Problem> can F-Off and die. In the meantime, sunshine and cheery-o.

There's a lot of clarity, there. <My Problem> (or should we get all formal and call Him and/or Her <Mr and/or Mrs Problem>) is never going to make amends, <Problems> never do. So, can you (meaning, I) see how pointless searching in that direction is? And yes, anger is one giant search for a solution to <A Problem> (whatever <That Problem> is). But then, as I have said many times before, at this point, <My Anger> is <The Problem>.

Also, some of the original entries are quite long. One of the chief ways in which my edits have made these entries clearer is by making them shorter. And it is only coincidental that as the entries shrink in size, these explanations grow ever longer.

It's beyond my belief that <My Problem> desires a <A Solution> or that I will accept one on the terms <My Problem> is likely to offer.

Yeah, this works pretty good.

And yeah, I think that's pretty accurate.

I'm glad <My Anger> is still with me. It gives me something to look forward to.

Yep. Edited beyond all recognition. But we have a project, once again.

On a nice colorful background the words Your Face have been drawn in, or scratched, the paint finger painted away, drawn with the finger

<The Mind Stealer> has stolen from me, lied to me, and cheated me. <The Mind Stealer> is not of my clan {not of my mind}, not of my family. On the field of battle. <The Mind Stealer> is fair game. And I will delight in the destruction of <It and Its Sub-Thoughts>. As such, I have no idea why <The Mind Stealer> would desire to remind me of its existence.

A listing of wrongs forms part of the 'trace' through my mind. I go over the wrongs, nurse the wrongs, list the wrongs, and make sure they are still there. I guess, that's the forgiveness part. If the wrong is forgiven, the rest need not follow. But I shall neither forgive nor forget. Mistakes are there to teach us. Here's to hoping the lesson is learned. Here's to hoping <The Mind Stealer> will agree to this compromise... or at least, end the punishment and let me out of detention.

And here the meaning does change completely, changing the focus... inward. For in truth, I no longer care about <The Problem>. Self-Preservation is my only goal. I wish to salvage the best of what I was before... that which I can, in light of what I have been through, what I have seen, what I have learned... about myself... about others... about <The Problem>... and the nature of a <Mind Stealer>.

I think 'F-Off' covers my side of the conversation.

'Now, Go Away!'

Forgive me, I must now listen to the song Whatever by God Smack (even if lots of folks know the song as Go Away!, courtesy of the emotion filled chorus). Music, reading, and writing help. Meaning, I have found that all forms of Substitute Social Interaction are emotionally beneficial, while outright Social Contact blows <My Anger> right out of the water.

As a side note, I would be a total drunk by now if alcohol helped in the least.

Very kind of <My Problem> to lie like that.

Very kind, indeed.

I fail to see the advantage of having <Such a Problem> in my life.

Seems reasonable.

Why is <My Problem> doing <This or That>?

Much of my anger is in response to imaginary conversations in search of a resolution. But seriously, by now, I should realize that the solution is to no longer search for one.

Any true <Communication> from me would consist almost entirely of obscenities. Thus (and assuming) <The Mind Stealer> feels the same way, why does it continue to behave like a complete <Turd Ball>? In fact, why is it living in my mind, at all. F- you to hell!

Now, I understand why some folks loath <This Thing>. It's not so much <This Thing>, as it is <The Problems> that tag along and come with it.

The lyrics from The Zombies' She's Not There.

'It's just The Mind Stealer trying to F-You. Too bad I no longer care...'

Whoever would do that which ought not to be done to even <An Animal> has themselves become <An Animal>.

Hey! Do you work for the Propaganda Machine (any Propaganda Machine, really)? Because, I think I might be good at that sort of <De-Humanizing> thing.

There are (7 days * 24 hours/day =) 168 hours in a week.

There are 128oz in a gallon.

Alcohol is processed by the liver (in a typical male adult) at the rate of 1.5 oz of 80 proof per hour... or one shot of rot gut per hour.

168 hours per week 1.5 oz (or one shot) per hour 128 oz in a gallon 168 * 1.5 / 128 = 2 gallons/week

The supply was replaced by (at least) a gallon a week. And there is reason to believe dosing occurred 24/7 (easily done by a 'potty break' in the middle of the night). So, it's reasonable to infer we are talking about a permanent state of intoxication.

These are tangential facts, which have almost (almost) nothing to do with my anger. In the end, it's really just a mathematical problem, which elicits (absolutely) no emotional reaction from me. Except for, maybe, I should have known, should have done the math sooner. And just in case the above is not clear, we are talking about the mathematics of a terminal alcoholic. Two gallons of 80 proof a week is about as much as the liver can filter out. It's the stasis point. After getting drunk that first time, it's how much a person needs to consume to stay drunk indefinitely. And like I said, at the time, I never came close to doing the math. I never thought about or had a reason for doing the math.

But are <My Problems> friend or foe? Either way, how would I know?

Because, like I have been saying, anger serves a purpose... until it does not. I'm sure a similar analogy could be made for drinking alcohol. But then, that is not <My Problem>.

Sometimes, I wish that it were.

The emotion (I feel) is rooted (however erroneously) in self preservation. Do not trust <The Mind Trap> ever again! Couple this with a desire for revenge and it is clear, I will never be free from my past.

There is <The Problem>. And there is <The Solution>. Both are intertwined, united. There can never be one without the other. It is what makes me strong.

To be better than my enemies and assist my friends.

This is, probably, about as close to a definition of honour, as I am ever likely to get.

The mantra that has been working for a while now is the desire to be better. The best revenge being living well.

Yep. F! all of you.

<The Problem> managed to be <A Problem>, because I did not consider it <A Problem>. My mistake. It' won't happen again.

Or will it? After all, that is part of the concern. Let us never forget... any part of <The Exchange>.

F- off!

Go the F- away!

Seriously!

F!

Off!

Never Forgive! Never Forget! Never!

In the end, I don't really believe in peace... nor much do I subscribe to the notion of innocents.

Do I want to share this thing, this moment with <The Mind Trap>? No. The answer for a long time has been no.

And I would thank you kindly, <Mr Mind Trap> to stop asking the question.

A time of loss and mourning is a good time to be rid of other things which no longer have any meaning.

Good Riddance!

If not directly related to <The Solution>, I no longer wish to be bothered by <The Problem>.

In the abstract, it is so much cleaner. I mean, so much of this is personal bitching and moaning. But I hope, at least, that a fervent desire to just be done with it shines through. At this point, I really do simply wish to be done with it... all of it... every last little bit.

Impotent Rage! It's probably the only kind.

After all, if I could enact <A Solution>, I would have... a long time ago.

I do not trust <The Mind Trap>. Nor do I trust myself not to trust <The Mind Trap> ever again.

I will be lured in. It is inevitable. It is like staring at a spider web, tracing the patterns. But I must remember, the spider is never far away.

I have imagined many things. Never, this.

Actually, this entry had far more to do with the nature of Imaginary Friends. And what I have chosen to imagine over the years... or take comfort in, like Stuffed Animals, Lucky Tokens, and the like. So, one could interpret it as me never having thought to make a ward against <The Problem>. But really, it was just an awareness of how little thought I had given to <The Problem> until now. Thus, making is less of a mystery why <The Problem> became a problem.

Money means cheeseburgers. Money means survival.

I have a Morgan Silver Dollar to remind me of this: 1887, New Orleans Mint.

Choosing one's own death (I mean fate, here) is both a difficult and important thing.

And likely, the only thing that matters.

My current philosophy (the current thought that gives me peace and wards off stress of almost any denomination) is that nothing matters. Life is but a game of Monopoly. It doesn't matter who wins, who looses, or how many houses or hotels are built along the way. I cannot remember much of anything about any particular game of Monopoly from my youth. It's simply unimportant... as are all facets of this life.

Perhaps directly coupled with this is a growing desire to experiment with marijuana. I wonder what the current state of the law is.

A nice multi colored wild haired happy face, there is little attempt to be representational, but there is enough, so careless drawing, in wild primary colors of a face, it gives no clue, but how could one without going into the long thick hair strokes, dots of yellow for eyes, in purple sockets, with pursed lips, and who knows what that oversized chin beard thing is doing

I don't think I would be as angry if I had wanted to fight. Part of the anger stems from my belief that aggressive action is the most appropriate action. But then, I don't want to take any action: mostly, because I want to preserve (my happiness) and monetary assets.

So, sometimes if a person is backed into a corner, they turn into a snarling beast. And sometimes, they open the door behind themselves and simply walk away. I like to believe I walked away. Others may believe I snarled. Either way, I want to believe (and want others to believe, always a source of frustration) that if pursued, my actions will be decisive. And they might be, because frightened animals are highly unpredictable.

I don't want it back. <Any Form Of Restitution> is just a distant goalpost. But I don't want it to be reached. And as time goes by, I will push the posts further and further back, so that they remain, forever, out of reach.

There will be no end to this. Not ever.

I need to find a purpose: something (or someones) worthy of love. And do it right this time. Learn from my past mistakes.

More!

Those whom I currently love will (no doubt) read this and read too much into it. That's not what I mean. Beyond that which I love (my writing) and those who I love (I hope you know who you are), there needs to be more (or at least, a falling into deeper, something I aspire to do ever more everyday). Some folks adopt all of humanity, but I don't think my heart is that generous. Still, I need a few more... some-things, some-ones, or some-mores... better, faster, deeper.

Deep Seated Anger has taught me that I have a callous disregard for both myself and others. So, there is a counter-punch to this sentiment, as well. <The Darkness> does not scare me, not anymore. There are so many things that are so much worse than <Mere Darkness>... being <The Darkness> to name but one.

STOP!

UNSUBSCRIBE!

Please remove my name and contact information from your database.

All correspondence will be treated as spam, as if it came from a <Ne'er-Do-Well>.

I believe there was a <Problem>. And since life is too short for <Problems>, I will attempt to excise any <Problem> from my life.

There was more to this entry... so much more. But it included particulars and sought a <Resolution>. But I no longer believe it is possible for any <Resolution> that includes <The Problem>.

Also, it's quite freeing to excise the particulars from this Anger Debriefing. It is mine. Let me own it. And then, let me say something witty about kicking any <Scapegoat> to the curb... right after kicking it in the teeth.

How would I know?
Why should I care?

Lyrics, again. Courtesy of She's Not There by The Zombies: a reference, of course, which means I must now pause to listen to the song... again.

Please don't try to find me.
I'm not there.

And here (in the endless edits), I do pause to listen to the song and lift weights. I wonder how much muscle development is driven by anger. Thankfully, I feel as though my activities this morning are driven by a love (sheer enjoyment) of my body. After all, in time, this too (this life) shall pass. Let's enjoy it while it lasts, shall we?

At first, I thought maybe there was <A Problem>. Now, I have no doubt.

Time cures all things... especially, uncertainty.

'<Something. Anything.>'

'I do not believe you.'

See, certainty.

By my accounting, there is <A Problem>. I would be a lot happier if there were not.

Facts be Facts.

As time goes by, more and more things push me away from the past.

It's actually quite meditative. I mean, not that I am any good at meditation. But <The Now> is all we have. I say, embrace it. Certainly (yes, I am quite certain of this), it is better than falling into the past.

It's like being owed a debt of honour. Thus, should <The Problem> and I ever meet in the Halls of Valhalla, I know I will be held in higher regard. I think in the end, this be payment enough.

There was a snide comment at the end about extracting additional payment. But I deleted it.

As to honour, one cannot have more honour than one to which they owe a debt of honour. So, it's an ordering function of sorts. I get to cut in line... and others still (perhaps many others still, perhaps the very same others still) may slip in front of me.

Thanks for <Something> <Mind Trap>, but I would be a lot more merry if you simply went away.

It's so much practice of what to say at a meeting I do not wish to attend.

The outline for a Tale of Woe:

Cold Hungry Holes in Socks Implicit Fault So, Do That Thing

Many of my thoughts, I do believe, are dangerously close to some sort of Martyr Syndrome. It's a dangerous desire.

All I wanted was an equal seat at the table. But I if I have to fight this hard, it isn't worth it.

So, like, I did not find myself sitting at any version of The Round Table. Eh, it's just as well. It's not like I am some sort of Questing Knight... as much as I'd like to be. So, if nothing else, not for this King, not for this Kingdom. It's time to move on.

I think <The Problem> has valued ----- over <My Well Being> for long time now. I think I have felt the same way, as well.

It is true. There is a reason I got myself a silver coin as a token memorial. ----- talks. So does everything else, of course, but what it has to say isn't as important.

I figure if <The Problem> wanted me in <The Solution>, I would have been dealt a full hand.

Of course, even that needs a bit of tweaking, as I should be the one dealing the cards... or The Universe... call it God... which I will be egotistical enough to say means me... or at least, all of us, once again.

I feel more at liberty to look at email.

I dreaded correspondence. Even now, the learned habits of aversion remain. I go weeks (if not months) between scans of certain communication channels. And I doubt the ringer on my phone is ever going on, again.

I consider <The Mind Trap> to be a liar, cheat, and thief.

So, stop it.

The truth is, there wasn't much in the way of goodwill before <The Problem>. So, heal to a general feeling of dissatisfaction? Why bother?

I find it soothing to deny the complaint... to delete the vast bulk of this entry (consisting of what are now meaningless details) and replace it all with <The Problem>.

I like to think I would have given if asked. I might not have. But I like to think that I would have.

At one time, I do believe that was the intent.

The anger is passing... and I find myself a little bored.

Yeah, a year later, and it's not gone... simmering, waiting, biding its time.

The edges are jagged, of course. But I would say the anger lasted three years from beginning to end. Day after day, week after week, month after month, the lows aren't nearly so low and the highs are becoming more consistent. I may return to the business of living, which to me has always meant (in some sense) the business of dying.

The last word has been spoken.

...

<I Have Many Complaints>

Don't we all.

It's a mystery.

Here's the thing. After giving it all as much thought as I have (and I hope you will grant me that I have given it all much thought), the why's and wherefore's still remain unknown.

I am.
<The Problem> is not.

Enough said.

This is a problem.

I am getting to the beginning of the list (as these entries are all posted in reverse order; as such, I am returning) to the point where I was not dealing with <The Problem>, but listing <The Problem>. So like, in the above entries I may (or may not, interpret it how you like) be to coming to terms with <The Problem>. Here, I am ascertaining that there is a <Problem>... by collecting facts and listing it out. Another way of looking at it would be that I was collecting insults, which did not prove to be an effective strategy.

I, also, used this space as a drafting space for letters, which need not be included. Details, they matter not.

There are lots of questions. After all, sneak attacks and ambushes are tactically sound. And it can take a person (meaning me) a long time to realize they are at war. Correspondingly, it can take a long time to make The Peace. But of course, a major purpose of my anger is to insure that I never drop my guard and make A Peace. After all, I thought there was A Peace and I got A War, so how could I ever trust a Peace, ever again?

Document Everything!

And here we have the start of the project. Soon enough, everything came to mean my thoughts and reactions.

And then, of course, during the edits, all facts were retracted... as the facts of the matter do not matter... only my reaction to them matter.

Just Another Business Deal!

I found that certain mental states would buy me peace for a while, some sort of mental stability. So, <The Problem> is just <A Business Deal>. Simple, easy to understand. And for the next night or two, I could sleep like a normal person. Only, you know, it wasn't just <A Business Deal> it was <A Problem>.

It can be fun to count <Wrongs>. I made a sort of game of it, collecting evidence... and turning the facts around. Some of it was quite weak. But my mind was not using it to determine Guilt; but rather, Damages.

I probably should track The Damages for my own use. I collected The Injuries. Let us tally them. That will be a difficult project... and perhaps, not worth the bother. But I am not willing to delete the arguments in the case, not quite yet.

Never Forgive!
Never Forget!

Never!

Everything is a mystery!
Everything!

It can be best not to leave any tracks, any evidence; and as such, much of what happened remains a mystery.

Both the How's and the Why's.

I should have played hard-ball sooner.

Or walked away completely.

There may be a cognitive shift here. And then again, there may not. This separating comment represents a new file of memories and aphorism. And though there was one more file after this, it was the last in line temporally and added little, so was not included in this project.}

Let us draw a house, that is what this picture is about, a house at center, and in the four corners, the sun, blue cloud, and two shrubberies

Give in Life.
Take in Death.

Do as you will.

Friend of the Devil by the Grateful Dead

I started collecting songs, songs that had a hidden meaning, could be tweaked to my use, or simply said what they meant: 'F- off! And die!'

An Enemy of My Enemy being a Friend being the central takeaway.

<Mind Trap>, my friend, I gave you many long chances. But now, you are simply a danger to my soul.

Save yourself.

I am going to concentrate on saving me. And if I find the rescue boats, I'm not planning on coming back. There are six billion other people I'd rather save, first.

No more. No more.

No more.

Out with the old, in with the new.

Seriously, time to cleanse my mind.

Leave it be.

But it's, really, hard to stop thinking about.

<Appropriate Recompense> goes a long way... or would have.

I think I used the word Apology: as in, an admission of guilt, a statement of regret, and a heartfelt desire that things had worked out differently. Of course, I could not come up with those emotions, not anymore, not on my side. That bridge has been burned. And even if I wanted to alter course, <The Mind Trap> (my <Mind Trap>) lays down suppressing fire on an almost daily basis.

Exterminate all the brutes.

Kurtz knew what he was about. It's odd. I mean, money was important to me before. But I have now raised it up to the level of a fetish. Gold being what this world is about.

<Mind F!>, I believe you owe me a debt of honour. And until that debt is paid, I owe you nothing. Or to put that another way, <My Dear Brain>: At one time, I assumed we would help each other in time of need; and now, I no longer do. And without such a belief to grease the wheels of sociability, I cannot see the point in any further <Thought About This Problem> until such a time as all accounts are settled.

The progression is clear: Human to Animal to Abstract Conception.

A stylized pictures of trees and shrubberies, I like this one, it looks technically good, showing the work surface and paint bottles

And that's that!

So, there is progress. The need to write down negative (call them hateful) epitaphs has decreased to almost nothing. And here I am, working on this project without getting annoyed.

Now, if you'll excuse me. I'm going to do a bit of exercise (the most basic therapy I know of) and listen to Friend of the Devil.

I should, probably, work some leg exercises into my routine. I've got the arms to where I could throw a hundred punches, but the legs don't have a hundred kicks in them. And, well, if I ever have the opportunity (or need) to kick someone in the head a few hundred times or sit on their chest and punch them in the face a thousand times (give or take), I want to be prepared.

Honour: the willingness and ability to exact revenge.

I don't know if I am.

And I've had a hunch (for a long time) that one little defect of character lies at the bottom of my anger: doubt about my ability, doubt about my will... doubt about...

Still, that song awaits.

It is time to move on.

There are a lot of good songs by the Dead, out there. Let me just say, I am Grateful that I am Dead to <The Problem>. And Gratefully Dedicated to <The Solution>.

Time for more music.

Brett Rants

Hate

A Bit of History

The Specifics of the Case

The Brain Dump

Analysis