ThisImmortalCoil

FinalStuff

03/09

Being at my parents' house always creates a real emotaion jambalaya. And like most jambalaya, it makes me all sorts of sick.

I have so many thoughts on my mind right now, I'm not sure where to begin...

Let's start with dreaming. I do not dream. (Yes, yes... I know "But TGeek, you do dream, you just don't remember them!" Yeah, I know that. You know damn well what I mean.) I think my inability to remember my dreams stems from the same place my discomfort with my parents comes from. When I was a child, I had a severe case of Tourette's Syndrome. Currently I only show mild symptoms, a fact that I attribute to living a relatively low-stress life and remaining generally well. (I'll talk more about wellness later.) In addition to Tourette's, I suffered from a severe behavioral disorder known as "childhood." My parents, not knowing how to react to the symptoms of childhood, decided to sedate me. I was on more drugs that I can remember. And high doses of each. Many of which didn't react well together. The answer? Simple: more drugs.

I went off all of my medications on what very well could have been the worst night of my life, and never went back on. I became a real live person for the first time in over thirteen years. Since then I've matured and developed on my own, although I still suffer from many symptoms of "childhood."

Why do I bring this up? I believe that my inability to remember my dreams may be a result of my prolonged drug-induced state. Why do I feel this way? Just a hunch. I have no physical evidence, but I can't imagine any other reason why I haven't been able to dream for the past several years.

But a strange thing has happened to me recently. In the past two weeks, I've remembered several dreams. I've been trying to think of why I've been experiencing this phenomenon recently, and I've thought of four possible factors which could have had an impact on my ability to dream:

1) Personal experiments in alterd states of consciousness

2) The REST Tank

3) Different nutritional plan

4) Sheer exhaustion

Firstly, I've been seriously experimenting with voluntary consciousness alteration for the first time. I'm not really comfortable talking about it here because it's an intensely personal experience, and also for other reason that should be obvious.

Secondly, I've been spending time in the REST tank. This has had an interesting impact on me. Lately when I've been meditating it's been a more intense experience. I've also been filling my own bathtub with warm water and have been using it to meditate.

Thirdly, my eating habbits have changed. I've been a vegetarian for years, sadly for most of that time I've been ather irresponsible about it. I haven't had a well balanced diet. This is something I've been actively changing about myself, and I've also been taking vitamins and suppliments.

Lastly, I've been severely overworked lately, and rather than having a set sleep pattern, I end up falling asleep out of exhaustion once every few days. I wonder whether this whole sleeping out of desperation could have possibly had an effect on my dreaming.

Well, I'm going to go back upstairs and try to get some sleep. I just hope they don't wake me up tomorrow by screaming at each other like they normally do.

One thing I'm thankful for, when I'm a parent, I'll definitely know how not to raise my kids.

03/01

Last weekend I was in New York, and I stopped in a little Korean restaurant to have some desert. Apparently, they don't have desert in Korea. That's right. Desert isn't a part of their tradition. So instead I had a beer. I read the back label, which described the beer as being "drinkable."

Yesterday, a book I ordered from Amazon came in the mail. I was spellchecking the introduction, when I came across something rather peculiar. The individual writing the intro described the book as being "readable."

I thought to myself, I wish I was drinking a drinkable drink while reading this readable reading.

02/21

This is a Complete Work of Fiction

My grandfather died thirty-nine years ago this month. Being twenty-two, I never met the man in person, but I have some idea of what he must have been like as a man through various pictures and stories of my relatives. He was a very strict man, as any man with eight children would have to be, but not in an oppressive way. He was full of life and had a sharp wit. He received several medals for serving in World War II, and was the New Jersey Handball state champion.

One morning in 1967 around 8:15 am, my Uncle David (who was seven at the time) was watching Looney Toons and eating a bowl of Smacks. My grandfather, who was on his way to work, said goodbye to David, told him to take his feet off of the coffee table, reached for his jacket, and died.

The autopsy revealed that an aneurysm popped somewhere at the base of his brain. It snowed during his wake.

My grandmother became increasingly isolated and lonely during the years following my grandfather's death. That's when she met Danny. Danny provided her with the emotional support she needed. With time, Danny grew to be part of the family. He's the closest thing I have to a grandfather on my father's side of the family.

I remember on Christmas Eve, I was probably seven or eight at the time, when we were all gathered at Grandma and Danny's house to celebrate the holiday. The shiny blue wrapping paper on the presents reflected the lights on the trees like a pond reflecting the stars. All the children were in the room watching The California Raisins' Christmas Special and eating stale pretzels. I left during Oh Christmas Tree to get another can of RC Cola. (I never really liked that song.) I went in the kitchen where Danny was telling a story about how he killed a nigger.

Danny used to be a miner. One day a nigger from their mine went into the Job Johnny. Danny and his friends decided to lock the door and throw a sick of dynamite down the vent to the toilet. Apparently this was especially funny because the nigger not only died, but died covered in shit.

I didn't know what a nigger was, but I knew that they were bad and that I was supposed to hate them. I assumed they were something like porcupines or raccoons. No one in my family was very put off by this story. They all hated niggers too. I guessed they must have been the critters responsible for digging up my aunt's rose garden.

But despite all the murder and hatred and ignorance, Danny seemed like and alright guy.

Danny and my grandmother have been together for three and a half decades. He does a little off-the-books home repair work, and she works at the cafeteria in a local hospital. Like most human beings, their lives operate according to routines. They wake up and go downstairs to have breakfast. Danny sits and does the crosswords while Grandma cooks up some scrapple and eggs, a true North East Pennsylvanian breakfast treat. Then, Danny does the dishes while grandma watches her soaps. She is especially fond of All My Children and is very curious as to what will happen between Erica and Dr. Madden once Erica finds out that Dr. Madden terminated her pregnancy, and that his son, Josh, is sabotaging her career. After One Life To Live, they turn on either AMC or TCM or Bravo (preferably whichever station is airing a western), and Grandma knits while Danny reads the paper. Eventually Grandma will take her afternoon nap, and Danny will go online and play poker with several anonymous strangers, winning most of the time. Normally, after two hours or so, Grandma will wake up and start to get ready for work while Danny works on some home repair related work in the basement.

Today, Grandma awoke to find Danny sitting by the computer, crying, holding a gun.

He wiped the tears away, slowly stood up, and pointed the gun at my grandmother. He explained to her that Jesus Christ spoke to him through the computer. He said that Jesus Christ told him that he had to atone for his sins, and the only way to do that was to kill Grandma, Oscar, and then himself. Oscar was Grandma and Danny's poodle who had an affinity for humping anyone who entered the house and for pissing on the bathroom carpet. Danny pulled the trigger.

The gun wasn't loaded. Danny dropped it on the floor. He said he was sorry, and that he didn't want to do it, but Jesus said that it was the only way. He then went outside to have a smoke.

Grandma called 911. It took six officers to restrain this seventy-some year-old man. Danny shattered the jaw of one of the officers. Two of the woman's teeth flew out of her mouth. After nearly a half-hour of struggling they had the colossus restrained. Danny was taken to the hospital, to the psychiatric ward. Several of the officers were taken to the hospital, to the ER. Grandma got a ride to the hospital, to the cafeteria. She punched in and started dishing out food to several anonymous strangers. Monday was green bean casserole day.

02/11

Did the Early Middle Ages Really Exist?

My humble opinion: Yes, yes they did.